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thegurlwhoisntthere · 4 months

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Okay, so I can’t believe I’m writing this, the Maribat/Daminette fandom has me by the throat so, here we are

There are a lot of fics where Damian comes to Paris and they click and he gets the Black cat miraculous for various reasons, and also a lot where Marinette goes to Gotham with generally the same outcomes, but what about a fic where Damian and his class go on a trip to Paris before Hawkmoth first attacks.

Like, he’s 13 and forced into this trip because the fam wants him to experience more than just being a vigilante and he hates it. His school has a program with Marinette’s, so at the beginning of the year they pack up and plan to spend two weeks in Paris.

This trip just so happens to coincide with when Master Fu is looking for his new Ladybug and Black Cat (y’all see where I’m going with this?)

In this Au, Adrien makes it to the school sooner and misses Master Fu because he’s testing Marinette. Adrien still gets to go to school, because he deserves happiness, but he’s able to get there the first day, and so avoids the whole gum thing that make Marinette hate him, but also sees what Chloe does to Marinette which really changes his initial perspective of school. He would definitely be a temp hero later, but he gets to enjoy being a normal rebellious teen.

Anyway, so Adrien Misses Fu, so who’s going to be the Cat? Well, Damian’s school pulls up at the same time Adrien would have.

The class stops to do a head count and give the general speech of why they’re there in front of the school and Damian’s planning on slipping away because he’s 13 and thinks this is all a waste of his time. He thinks that if he can make it back to the hotel without anyone noticing he’ll be able to make an argument that they forgot him and that he should be allowed to go home (can you see where I’m taking my inspiration from?). Unfortunately for him, Fu sees this and does his test (the fall). All his classmates don’t do anything because they’re from Gotham and are suspicious of everything (and also it’s Paris and they don’t want to be scammed) and the teachers don’t notice. Damian, however, does notice. He considers leaving anyway because it’s not his problem, but he’s been Robin for almost 3 or 4 years at this point and, contrary to what some people might say, has grown a lot. He would feel guilty and maybe even a little unworthy of Robin if he didn’t stop for 2 seconds to help this old man up.

It goes quite similarly to how it did with Adrien, he helps Fu up, but gets caught and can no longer run away from the class.

Basically, this au is a “what if Damian was The Black Cat from the start?”

I have a lot more ideas, but here’s just a few:

Damian isn’t Chat Noir, but I haven’t looked up any cat related names that he could be yet.

As the cat, Damian acts a lot more fun than he normally would allow himself. He’s not Chat Noir level, but this is the first time in his life where literally no one knows who he is and is monitoring his behavior, nor does he have anyone’s expectations on him for who he should be.

He’s initially annoyed with Ladybug, because she’s so clearly untrained, unconfident, and unprepared, but then she comes up with the plan that shows what she could be capable of, and the speech and he might have a crush, but brushes it off as grudgingly respecting her

He 100% plans on training her and their partnership is more equal than what the show portrays it as, because one of my main problems with the actual show is that chat noir, despite being her partner is often shoved aside and given the sidekick role

Damian doesn’t tell his family what’s happening. As far as they’re aware, Paris is fine. Normally he would have, but he had no time until after the fight and he really enjoyed being the cat that he’s like “I’ll tell them later” which keeps being pushed back.

At the end of the trip he somehow talks his family into letting him actually transfer to Paris so he can stay as the cat

He is baffled that this works, but they are all so happy that he’s taking an interest in something other than Robin and Superheroing that they jump on letting him before realizing that it means he’s gonna be in Paris for months.

Dick is sad about this later, so is Bruce and Alfred and the others, but he’s the most vocal about it.

Damian is also baffled that they haven’t figured out what’s going on by now and as everyday passes he gets more and more annoyed by the fact that his so called family of detectives have realized that he’s decided if they can’t figure it out, he’s not telling them.

He has not figured out that magic is preventing knowledge of this from leaving Paris and even if it didn’t, Magic is protecting his identity.

He acts annoyed by Plagg, but he actually loves him so much

His cat outfit is still fun with the ears and tail, but it’s a lot more elaborate and has a utility belt and a lot of hidden things

In fact, because it’s so elaborate, Marinette’s boring suit only stays for the first time she transforms. Once the fight finishes her little fashion designer brain can’t stop thinking about it and comes up with a new design after consulting Tikki.

Of course, she only has the idea of the costume down, because by the time they finalize it, she sees the news and has her depression moment, so the first time she wears it is when she saves Alya.

Due to this first change, her outfit would constantly be changing throughout her time as Ladybug, as she learns more about fighting and what she’s comfortable with, as well as what’s actually possible with magic and the miraculous.

By the end of the year her firs are going to be crazy (wait till she finds out she can change her actual eyes (both color and the pupils and-) hair colors and length)

She will eventually bully Damian into making some changes but he’s generally happy with the first design.

They also know each others identities a lot sooner because Damian actually knows the benefits and his cold logic is able to cut through a lot of her anxiety.

It still doesn’t happen until at least the second season tho.

Y’all I have so much more, but this is getting long and I’ve got things to do so tell me if u want more or feel free to add your own ideas!!!

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wtfkdramaislife · 1 year

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Twenty Five Twenty One

— 2022

Cast:

Kim Tae-ri as Na Hee-do

Nam Joo-hyuk as Baek Yi-jin

Bona as Ko Yu-rim

Choi Hyun-wook as Moon Ji-woong

Lee Joo-myung as Ji Seung-hwan

—

⚠️WARNING:

This is gonna be a very looooooong post. ✌️🏼

First all, I’m torn between 2 show posters, one with Hee-do and Yi-Jin and this but I chose the one with the whole squad on it because I FREAKN LOVE THEM!!! 😭💖

Let me just start by saying.. this is one of my top K-drama favorites! No doubt! 😭🤩💖 Like, when I’m watching it, there’s no dull moment. I also had flashbacks of what I felt when I watched Weightlifting Fairy and Hometown Chachacha that’s why for me, this K-drama is a mix of the 2. I just had fun watching it. Of course, I cried in some parts, especially the last episode but I still love the show. 1000000x/10! It's something that I needed. A comfort show. I felt healed from the inside. 🫶🏼

So here are some of the things that I love about this K-drama:

1. The technique and storyline:

I’m not a scriptwriter or film creator to talk about techniques and stuff, I just love K-dramas and this is my way of letting out all my thoughts. About the show, I just like how the story started in the year of Covid, which feels like a decade now, because it mirrors what is currently happening. We can all relate to wearing face masks outside our homes, the Covid protocols, 6ft apart, hand sanitizers, and all that stuff that became part of our everyday lives. Due to the pandemic, we were all forced to stay at home, keep our distance from our friends and loved ones, or just stop our daily lives in general. And because of that, we tend to look back on our past and daydream about it, of how life was during the earlier years, our friends back then, our first loves. EVERYTHING. That’s what I love about this K-drama. It brought me back to my high school and college years when all I do is have fun with my friends, experience love and heartbreak for the first time, find out who I really am and what my dreams are. It’s so relatable because let’s be honest, sometimes we still think of the “what could’ve beens” and the “what ifs” in our lives.

For the storyline, I’m not gonna go in depth because I want you to watch it if you haven’t already!! 🤩

So it’s about fencing which honestly, is something that I know nothing about. I watch the show since it’s Nam Joo-hyuk’s y’all! 🤭 And I got instantly hooked just from the first episode. The story revolves around these 5 people with different stories but still connected. It tackles a lot of issues that all of us can relate to, especially in our early years when we’re still trying to figure out what it is that we want in life.

Another main point in this show is broadcasting. The process of getting a news report and the effects of it on the reporter’s personal life. In times like that, it’s safest to keep a distance.

2. The characters:

I love the whole cast, seriously!!! From the squad to coach Chan-mi 🥹😭 and also I love that the characters were not just tied to their partners. There are also other friendships that I really adore.

• Hee-do and Yu-rim

Okay, so this is actually where it all started. Hee-do admires Yu-rim so much that it’s her dream to be her rival. She transferred to her school when a crisis came and joined the fencing team with her. At first, Yu-rim hated her and everything she does even just her existence until that moment with a yellow flower. You guys know what I mean!! 🤭 Since then, they became really good friends and I love their friendship. They’re so supportive of each other and the game in Madrid is my favorite! I was a little confused at the beginning when Hee-do avoided Yu-rim but her reason is understandable. And also that part when Hee-do announced her retirement and Yu-rim came to support her. It’s so heartwarming. ‪🥹

• Seung-hwan and Ji-woong

I also love these 2 so much!! I’ve always wanted to have a guy best friend, as in pure friendship with a guy but I can’t coz I always fall in love with them HAHAHA but yeah, I don’t have one and I envy this friendship so much. They’ve been childhood friends and their closeness was misunderstood at first but it didn't change anything even when Ji-woong started expressing his feelings towards Yu-rim and eventually asked her to go out with him, their friendship stayed the same and Seung-hwan and Yu-rim became friends, too. I also admire Seung-hwan when she spoke up for Ji-woong during that incident with their teacher. She stood up for what she believed in even if it costs her dreams. She remained a true friend and it’s something that we all need.

• Ji-woong and Yu-rim

Ahhhh these 2!! 🥹 l didn’t expect to love this couple. It’s that relationship we all want. The one that never gives up even when it’s hard and complicated and Ji-woong really showed maturity and just how much she loves Yu-rim. That scene in the airport? It’s my favorite. Long-distance relationships aren’t easy but anything is possible as long as you both love each other and want to make it wor. Plus that proposal! Ji-woong is the dream. So cute 💓

• Jae-kyung and Coach Chan-mi

This is another friendship that we saw in the show. Something that we can all experience and has experienced especially when we get older and life just hits us. Their storyline is also an important part of the show. They started as really good friends when Jae-kyung is just starting in broadcasting and Chan-mi’s already well-known in the fencing world. Then an issue came out about Chan-mi accepting bribes from parents and Jae-kyung reported it on national tv. Then their friendship started to fall apart until it can’t be saved anymore. It was about pursuing your dreams or keeping your relationships. That’s why one rule in the broadcasting world is to keep Your distance. Something that Jae-kyung’s been telling Hee-do and Yi-jin.

• Yi-jin and Hee-do

I have to save these 2 for last 🥹 Let me start with Nam Joo-hyuk. Well, I watched this show because of him. For me, it’s another Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok-joo which is another favorite of mine! 💓😭 And it’s my first time watching Kim Tae-ri and first episode in, I fell in love with her character!! Na Hee-do is just so fun to watch. The way she talks and her obsession with Yu-rim and Full House are just so funny and adorable! Not only her fun and lively character that I love about her but also her drive and determination to pursue fencing even if others including her own mom don’t believe in her potential. She worked so hard to be one of the best fencers and she succeeded despite all the challenges she faced. Just like Hee-do, Baek Yi-jin also faced a lot of hardships and criticisms due to his family’s bankruptcy. They needed to go separate ways and live on their own that’s why he ended up staying in Seung-hwan’s spare room and working in that bookstore where Hee-do is a regular customer. He works so hard, goes to job interviews just to fail, but it didn’t stop him to try his best. Then he met Hee-do and her resiliency and determination became his inspiration to go on. I remember when he told her, “You have a knack for leading me to a good place.” since then, he slowly worked his way up until he got a job at the broadcasting company. But we all know that it’s not always rainbows and butterflies (cue She Will Be Loved🎶), along the way their relationship faced a lot of challenges, starting with the controversy of Hee-do’s first gold medal and when Yi-jin flew to New York to cover a huge news report. They tried but it didn’t work and just ended it.

• The squad

Their friendship is just something we all want to have. They complement each other. Yi-jin’s maturiy fits perfectly to the fun, happy-the go-lucky personality of the 4. That summer is just so memorable. It’s their summer that’s why I can’t help but cry when adult Hee-do looked back and said, “Nothing lasts forever. Everything is momentary. They all flow away. And that’s not always a bad thing.”. This is true so we should cherish every single moment with our loved ones because we don’t know where life takes us.

3. The ending:

I actually would love it if they ended up together but some stories won't reach that. Sometimes, we just meet people to teach us a lesson and I think they met because they need each other to grow and figure out what they want in life. I love that they had closure, tho it happened for Hee-do after 13 years when the bookstore owner gave the diary to Min-Chae, but at least they knew what was in each other’s hearts. Sometimes, that’s all we need. A period. A “The End” in every story or chapter in our lives so we could move on and start anew.

I think I’ve said a lot but it’s not enough. I just love this K-drama so much that I can’t help but feel sad that it’s over. Yes, I know I can still rewatch it but it’s not the same and I can’t do it now since I have a long list of K-dramas to watch. I need to keep up!! 😅

That’s all! Happy watching for those who haven’t yet and sorry I spoiled a lot of important parts HAHAHAHA I need to rant here, I don’t have friends 😂

—

Story: 🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

Enjoyment: 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩 x1000000000000000

Will watch it again? YAAAAAAAAAS!!!

(all photos from Pinterest)

#twenty five twenty one #nam joo hyuk #baek yi jin #kim taeri #na hee do #bona wjsn #ko yu rim #choi hyun wook #leejoomyung #kdramaislife #kdramaaddict #kdrama #korean drama

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sturchling · 3 years

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Listen Instead of Lie

This is based off a prompt by @miraculousfanworks that I was tagged in by @vixen-uchiha a while back. Sorry it took so long for me to get to it! Hope this was worth the wait!

What happens if Lila tries to lie about MDC, when the class already knows who MDC is? The end of the liar's reign happens.

Marinette had been making quite the name for herself in the fashion world. Ever since she made the sunglasses for Jagged, he kept asking her for more pieces every few months. He also made sure to brag on Marinette every chance he got, using her pseudonym, MDC. Soon other major celebrities had commissioned her work and were also raving about the talented young designer. She was quickly becoming a household name, or at least her pseudonym was. Marinette wanted to stay relatively anonymous for now, for a few reasons, Lila being chief among them. She worried that if the liar knew about her success, she would try to destroy it. She also didn't want to be hounded for her work for now. So she resolved to use the name MDC until she graduated at least.

As the whole world was talking about her designs, no one knew who MDC actually was. That is, except for her class. Marinette had been using MDC for all of her designs for years, ever since they had known her. So naturally, they all knew who this 'mysterious new designer' was. They were very happy for their friend and her success. While they didn't get why Marinette didn't tell the world who she was (after all, who wouldn't want to have this kind of spotlight), they did respect her wishes, and made sure not to slip up and mention her actual name in public. However, when it was just the class, they would gush about Marinette and her latest designs, always impressed with their friend's work. Maybe if Lila had listened to her friends talk, instead of always make the conversation about her lies, then maybe she wouldn't have made such a stupid mistake.

MDC was now a major player in the fashion industry and was even going to be featured at the next Paris Fashion Week and the class couldn't be happier for their friend. The class decided that they wanted to throw Marinette a small party, nothing too crazy, but they wanted to congratulate her. The next morning, they arrived at school and when they went in the classroom, they saw Lila walking from the back of the classroom where Marinette was sitting towards the front to her desk. Lila went to greet the class with a sweet smile plastered on her face, but the class just continued towards Marinette. Lila hated the class even looking at Marinette. And she would put a stop to it. As Lila approached the group, she heard Alya say, "Marinette! We saw the latest news about MDC and we wanted to tell you-" But before Alya could finish her thought, Lila jumped in. If she had listened to what Alya was saying, she may have thought again about what she was going to say. But she was so focused on getting the attention off Marinette and back on to her, that she went to her usual plan. Lie. But this time that was the worst thing she could have done.

"Oh Alya! You all are talking about MDC?" Alya turned back to Lila with a smile, slightly irritated though that she had been interrupted. "Oh yeah, we were just going to tell Marinette-" Lila cut her off again. "Oh MDC is such a sweetheart. We actually met at the Milan Fashion Week, before she used MDC as her name. MDC are the initials of her mother who got her into fashion. Its her way of honoring her mother. I was so happy to hear she will be at the Paris Fashion Week, maybe I could introduce you all and get us tickets to her show? And Marinette, maybe she could give you some pointers on how to break into the fashion world?" Lila put on her best shy smile and waited for the class to gush about how awesome that would be, and how sweet Lila is. But that never came. Instead the class was staring at her in shock and anger.

"Lila? What are you talking about? Why are you lying?" Alya asked, hoping maybe she had misunderstood Lila, though she didn't see how she could have. "What are you talking about? I'm not lying! I've known MDC for years, we are very good friends." Lila immediately got defensive. Nino spoke up, saying "That isn't possible." Lila, forgetting to appear sweet and nice, snapped at Nino. "And why is that Nino?" Marinette stood up from her desk. "Because I am MDC." Lila scoffed. "Do you guys actually believe her? She is obviously lying for attention since her fashion business isn't doing as well. You should be ashamed Marinette, taking credit from a hard working designer! I thought you were better than that!" Lila expected the class to drop the conversation. They always did when this happened, if only to keep the peace. But they just doubled down. Alya walked towards Lila, furious that this girl had been lying to them, likely since she joined the class. "Marinette isn't lying. She is MDC. And if you hadn't interrupted me earlier, and listened, you would have heard us congratulate her for her success. She has used those initials for years for her fashion. MDC stands for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You haven't been friends with her for years, and you certainly haven't been friends since you got here!" Lila was backed into a corner. She had no way out of this.

The class started yelling as they realized that not only did Lila try to lie about Marinette as MDC, but had likely been lying to them the whole time. Lila couldn't lie her way out of this one. So she ran. She ran out of the school and all the way home. The class continued with the celebration, congratulating Marinette and then treating her to a picnic in the park after school to celebrate. They had a great time, and went their separate ways that night, glad to not only have congratulated their friend, but defended her from a liar.

Later that night, Lila would convince her mother to send her back to Italy, saying that she was scared of the akumas and didn't want to stay in Paris. Lila wished she didn't have to leave Paris, but her mother wouldn't just let her transfer to another school in Paris. And she couldn't risk transferring to a new school in the city and then Mrs. Bustier's class spreading the word that she is a liar. Lila knew that if she just asked her mom to transfer because she didn't like her school, her mom would say to tough it out and not let her transfer. But if she was too scared to stay in Paris entirely? Her mother would listen. So, Lila reluctantly left Paris behind and returned to Italy. She would be living with her grandparents until a new school, likely a boarding school since her grandparents couldn't care for her long term, could be found. Lila sat on the plane to Italy, lamenting her mistakes in Mrs. Bustier's class. If only she had listened more than she lied.

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laketaj24 · 3 years

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Single in Staten Island: Tattoos & Kisses

Author’s Note: This is a three-part series I am going to do on Pete!! I am going to use the prompts I got in the second part! I talked with a friend about him—he does truly deserve a good girl or someone who won’t fuck him over. Taglist is here! Reqs are open, but I’m slow, no lie.

Warnings: None, just language.- Smut in the following parts.

Pairings:Pete Davidson x Reader

Masterlist

“What’s your order?” The chipper attitude they were supposed to have had left the day you turned in your two-week notice. This coffee shop had been the bain of your assistance. Fuck this place. Fuck these people and fuck their fancy, overdone ass orders. You leaned on the counter, giving the man in front of you a stern look.

He looked around. Clearly, you didn’t have an attitude with him. He’d just walked in the fucking place. “Uhm—,” his eyes found the menu, but there was an aloofness in him that triggered you.

“You’ve been in line ten minutes, and you don’t know what you want?”

“Yep.” He nodded and shot a smile. “Ten whole minutes. Still a fuck up.” His finger tapped on the counter, and he looked up at the menu. Nothing here looked worth seven dollars, especially not a coffee. “What’s good here?”

“Look, I don’t know. ”You sighed. “I’m about to go lunch, and you’re the last order.” You flourished the lack of customers behind him.

“You from around here?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Your attitude is pretty fucked up; I figured you lived up the block.” He took a pregnant pause and chuckled. “An Everything Bagel, jalapeño cream cheese, and a grande black coffee.”

“What’s the name?”

“Pete.”

“Spell that.”

“You can’t spell Pete?”

“You from around here?” You quipped.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I figured your name is probably spelled all fucked up and shit.”

He laughed, which was not what you expected; you just knew this was the gasoline added to a shitty fire. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Kinda weird.” He shrugged. “You wanna go somewhere better than this on your lunch break?”

“Unless you have a gram and a beer, no.”

“I have a gram and some black coffee if the barista doesnt quit before she puts my order in.”

You snickered. “That’ll do. Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but fucking Staten Island.”

The ferry. It hadn’t been in the plans, but you were happy you said yes to the lean stranger. He leaned against the railing, a cigarette in one hand a flask in the other. It wasn’t precisely beer, but you had no complaints. “You want a sip?”

“Sure,” You took the flask without hesitation and chugged down three gulps before passing it back to him. It was gin, dry grade A gin. “That’s the kind of shit you bring on a ferry?”

“I thought I grabbed my tequila, but I must’ve drunk it all.”

“Drunk at 2pm on a Tuesday?”

“I’m not drunk; I’m enjoying a drink. Judge much?”

You shrugged and turned, resting your back on the railing beside him, feeling the cool breeze run through your hair. “So why did you invite me out here?’

“You looked like you needed saving, and I’ve been there. Shitty job with shitty people.” He flicked his cigarette ashes into the water below him. “Plus, you cussed me out on the job, which means your kinda badass.”

“I like to think I am.” You admit and nod your head. “You ever get tired of doing the same old shit?”

“yep, that’s why I get tatted.”

Then you noticed the tattoos spackled across his body in random places, and they were once more in a random fashion. Yet, you liked them; they matched him, odd and somehow insanely attractive. “Pete, I want a tattoo. Take me to your guy.”

“What do you mean to take me to my guy? Does it look like I have a guy?” Pete laughs. “I’m like a god damn coloring book; let’s find the first shop and just do it. I pick yours… you pick mine. Stranger tats.”

“Why not?”

“Your boyfriend won’t appear and try to beat my ass?”

“Unless you’re imaginary, too, I think you’re good.”

‘Fucking Brickhouse like you, single in Staten Island?”

“Single in Staten island is not a rarity.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. It’s the only way to be.” He said with a bit of sarcasm.

The conversation was random the entire ferry trip; you made wisecracks and rebutted, flirting with you but keeping his distance. “Tell me three weird facts about yourself.” You twiddled with your fingers and looked up to meet his brown eyes. “I’m sure you have more than three, but spare me the rest.”

“I like to be alone.” Pete looked back. “But I love a good party, but when I go, I hang out alone and watch people. People are interesting as fuck.”

“I find them to be boring.”

“That’s because you’re not looking for the right things.” He pointed to the woman about fifty feet away from the two of you. The older lady sat tired, sunglasses covered her face while the gray hair blew wild in the wind. “See Gladys there; she’s about to go home to a man she’s been with for thirty-five years. The best dick she ever had.”

Your face radiated with heat as you suppressed a chuckle. “Has to be to stay with it thirty-five years.”

“You haven’t had someone dick you down that makes you want to stay thirty-five years?”

“Not even make me want to stay a week,” You answered.

“That’s fucked up.” Pete smiled.

“That’s life, Pete. Unfortunately, people don’t always get good dick like Gladys.”

“Yeah, lucky bitch.” His phone rang, and he shifted, digging in his light denim jeans to retrieve his iPhone and answer the call. “It’s Pete.”

You turned, giving him some privacy and taking it all in. You didn’t plan to return to work, fuck that place and everything it entailed. You started a new job in three days; you’d take these three days to not give a fuck. That feeling started today; it started with your new friend Pete and this tattoo. The call ended after a few minutes; he didn’t talk about much, just a conversation with a friend and plans he had for a party later tonight.

“The shop is about five blocks from where we get off. Have you decided what I’m getting?”

“I want to see the designs first; I want it to be memorable.”

“Make it your number.”

“Is that your coded way in asking for it?”

“Not coded, I swear.” Pete leaned closer to you. “I kinda think if we are gonna get stranger tattoos, we should have each other’s number.’

“We won’t be strangers then.”

“Call them something else then.”

“I’ll let you know if you can have this number later… I haven't got an invite to this party yet.”

“You're totally invited.” Pete tossed his hands up. “Give me three digits.”

“847.” You snickered.

“Good, I guess I can work for the next seven.”

The shop was grimy, with dark walls and low lights. The smell of weed and liquor hit your nose, and you felt at home for some reason. Your legs ached; the walking didn’t bother you usually but pairing it with walking didn’t do much good for you. You sat in the chair across from Pete. “Don’t make this a dumb tattoo.”

“You’re talking to the king of dumb shit.” He pointed to the small elephant; it wasn’t dumb, though. It had a feminine line design, and it was petite, adorable even. “I’m sparing you today. You’re getting this,” He smiled. “An elephant, not dumbo but a distant hot cousin.”

“I like it.”

“Good.” His smile was sincere. “I hoped you would. When is she up?” He asked the artist.

“I can get her now.” He answered as he started to sketch the elephant onto the transfer paper. “Hop up, sweet cheeks, and it’ll be about ten minutes.”

Pete extended his hand like a gentleman and led you to the red leather chair. ‘Ever had one before?”

“I have three.” You admitted.

“I see none.” He looked you over quizzically. “Not a one.”

“They are hidden….” You answered, choosing not to tell him they were down your chest and down your thigh.

“Secret tattoos. I like it. I can dig it.”

“Sure. Where is this party tonight?” You asked.

“Back in Staten Island.”

‘Can I trust you, Pete?”

“I hope so; I feel trustworthy?”

“You answered that like you didn't know the answer.” You shifted in the seat and pulled your shirt over your head. You revealed the tattoo of the moon phases going down your chest. “Just because you can't see something does not mean it isn’t there.”

“They're fucking awesome, like the person they are on.”

“You only think I’m awesome because you don’t know me.”

“I know enough.”

It was not like you to kiss a stranger because instead, you wanted to admit it or not, Pete was a stranger to you; you didn’t care. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, and he responded immediately, kissing you back eagerly. His lips were soft, full, and applying just the perfect amount of pressure to yours.

“You two want to fuck or get this tattoo.”

You exhaled, pulling away from him. “Can we do both?”

To be Continued.

@honestsycrets @pyschiccreationtaco @opalsandlacemain @battbeans @placeoffreedom @daddyavesxx @niamandthings @honeyel @locht3ssmonster @itslovengie

#pete davidson #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson x you #pete davidson x black!reader #laketa j writes

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ekaterinatepes · 3 years

Text

Nothing but the Best

Author Notes: hello again my loves! Thank you for all your likes, reviews and specially your comments! I love it when you make questions and in general let me know what you think about the chapter. Thank you once more for all your support!

XII.

They say time heals all wounds, but there are some wounds that run so deep they refuse to stop bleeding.

https://youtu.be/s1tAYmMjLdY

youtube

A cold September afternoon welcomed the dying rays of the sun, the incandescent amber tones of the twilight illuminated the streets of Tokyo, ever so vibrant; full of life, people, delicious food, kaleidoscopic colors, laughter, children running…. Couples holding hands.

A tall man with a blindfold walked down a heavily transited sidewalk with his hands in his pockets and a small bag of pastries hanging off the side. Slowly, he made his way further away from the more concentric streets towards a park, he found a bench near a fountain and took a seat placing his bag right next to him.

The world remained the same and yet everything seemed to have changed, the days were now long and boring, conversations with people didn’t manage to hold his attention for long; missions were repetitive. Everything seemed… dull, opaque, flavorless, empty…

Everything, except perhaps his students who were the only sliver of hope he had left. Those kids would make it far in life, they were going to change the world and he was going to be there to help them along the way. A sad smile pulls at his peachy lips. You would have liked that. After all, the kids also enjoyed your company back in the day when you were still his. It was as if you had become their adoptive mother of sorts at some point. Your nurturing nature guided you to care for others.

A year ago when Yuuji was placed under his care and tutelage at Jujutsu High it had been hard for the boy. At the time the kid had just lost his only living relative and to top it off he also consumed the most powerful curse ever known to man kind.

He had so much responsibility on his shoulders Satoru couldn’t help but make the connection with himself when he was a kid his age. That’s how Satoru decided to take him home for dinner one night; he couldn’t have been more pleased with his decision. Of course, you adored Yuuji. His sweet snd enthusiastic personality, his polite manners and naiveté made him just endearing in your eyes.

Even Megumi, who barely spoke with his more taciturn approach asked about you. Satoru didn’t know how to answer. The dark haired boy would also come and visit your home to help you prepare some foreign delicacies you loved to cook. Sighing once more he ran his hands through his white hair.

***-Flashback-***

“So where’s Y/N-san? I haven’t seen her in a long time?” Asked Megumi right after Satoru returned from New York. It caught him by surprise

“She… she doesn’t live in Japan anymore” was all he said before changing the subject. Megumi looked at him with eyes wide open but decided not to pry.

Yeah… that probably was weird. Someone asks you about your spouse and you say they moved out of the country. It was pretty obvious what that meant.

***~End Flash Back~***

Sighing he opened the small paper bag containing his mochi, he loved his desert but lately he didn’t even have the will to indulge in sweets anymore. Satoru consumed insane amounts of sugar to stimulate his brain. The problem was that during the past year all that stimulation manifested in the form of vivid memories of you. Your voice, your smell, your presence. It was as if his brain chose to take him down the path to misery, as if to rub on his face what he could never have.

As of last week you were officially not Y/N Gojo anymore. He finally signed those blasted papers giving you your freedom and his capitulation.

It had been one of the worst days of his life.

After signing the divorce Satoru went straight to the liquor store where he found that exotic apricot liquor he liked in New York and bought a bottle. Once he made it back home he proceeded to get drunk out of his mind. The next morning he woke up by the pool, laying down on a tanning chair, wearing only a pair of boxers and hugging your wedding picture.

His head was killing him, at some point he had emptied his insides in the pool. A disgusted grimace reminded him he had to hire some help to take care of the house that was an absolute disaster, faithfully reflecting the state of its owner.

That morning, nursing a hangover he swore off alcohol for the rest of his life.

But hey! On the positive side he didn’t remember at all that night! Which means he ‘probably’ didn’t think about you (yeah right! As if he was ever not thinking about you) and how much he hated the fact you were not his Y/N Gojo anymore. You were not his wife anymore…

The memory made him want to cry like a baby. He lost the person he loved the most in his life because he had been one flaming idiot.

Despite all his efforts he could not forget you. Wherever he went, whatever he did… there you were, tormenting his waking and sleeping hours like his own personal curse.

He tried to get over you. He tried to be the asshole you knew him to be. He slept with so many women he couldn’t even count. But at the end of the night, in the throes of passion it was your face that he saw, your body that he craved, your flavor that he yearned and your name the one he called out when he climaxed.

He was absolutely fucked.

Revisiting memories of the last night he saw you he couldn’t believe how stupid he had been at the time. It took him so long to realize he had always been in love with you but Satoru, being well… himself, he didn’t want to see or admit that he had been head over heels, madly in love with you. He was a cynical bastard and that had cost him dearly. He chose to lie to himself thinking that THE Gojo Satoru was above all human weaknesses… including love. What an ignorant fucker he had been.

He wondered how you were doing and if you ever thought about him.

A frown made his handsome face look stern. Well… you were not alone anymore. Suguru also had stayed back in New York with you. After Satoru returned to Japan, Ijichi told him Geto Suguru wouldn’t be working out of Japan anymore. He had requested a transfer to the Americas.

Of course he did…

It had been one of the reasons Satoru fucked so many women. In his delusional mind he was ‘getting even’ with you for sleeping with Suguru. Not that he knew for a fact you were sleeping with him or not but… I mean….

Come on! It’s mother fucking Geto Suguru we are talking about here! 6’2 of pure sculpted muscles, tattoos and bad boy looks but with a Prince Charming complex. Yeah… Satoru was green with jealousy because he knew his former best friend was a better man for you than he ever was.

Looking down at his mochi bag he realized the small item had paid the price of his anger as he uncurled his death grip from the bag. Sighing he tossed the ruined pastry in the trash can to his left.

“Miss you….” He whispered to the wind.

———–

“I’m home!” You announced walking into your apartment. Setting you bag down as well as a couple of grocery bags “did you start dinner already?” You ask pleasantly surprised although you already knew the answer to that question since all the apartment smelled fantastic. Suguru walked out of the kitchen with a big smile wearing an apron that read ‘Kiss the Cheff’ nods “yes! I figured I would give you a hand tonight!” He answered as you walked to him to wrap your arms around his waist and give him a chaste kiss on his cheek “thank you Sugu. How was your mission?” You asked deciding to set up the table while Suguru finished dinner. “Not too bad actually, it was a special grade but nothing I couldn’t deal with” you returned a bright smile “I’m glad”

Your friendship with Suguru had slowly evolved into something else. You both spent all of your free time together. Your connection was deeper than mere sexual attraction. Suguru truly understood you, cared for you, shared your dreams and hopes. He was the type of poetic soul who would stay awake with you well into the night just to talk about the stars, the book you read that week that you loved, the new music you liked. It was wholesome.

On the more carnal side you desired Suguru and he desired you but you hadn’t taken what was going on between you two further than a few passionate make-out sessions and some cuddling.

After you last saw Satoru everything became worse before it got better. Suguru had been your rock, he had been there for the sleepless nights you spent crying. Without a word he held you in his strong arms and allowed you to let go. He knew you were deeply wounded, your emotions in disarray and your mental stability in peril. But Suguru never asked anything from you, he gave you the strength to go on. To take care of yourself, to keep going with your career. To have… hope.

It seemed like a dream to think that your life had changed so much in the span of a year. You weren’t able to recognise yourself anymore. Pain and duress molded you into someone new, better, more resilient, harder to hurt.

At this point, the only person you fully trusted was Suguru, he was always honest with you, no matter what happened or how much something hurt, he always remained true to himself and to you.

It was impossible not to love someone like him. He was the whole package.

Suguru was handsome, that was indisputable. But Geto was more than a pretty face. He was kind, truly kind! He did things out of the goodness of his heart, not because he expected anything in return. He was honest, Suguru Geto would never lie to you and THAT is what you loved the most about him.

He was patient.

He wanted you to be his but at the same time Suguru wanted you to heal, to have the chance to trust and love again, not as a means to forget about Satoru but because you wanted to choose a new path for yourself.

After diner you helped with the dishes and then settled on the couch. Suguru joined with a smile and two glasses of wine. He handed you one and sipped on the other one “what would you like to watch tonight Kitten?” He asked sitting next to you while picking a movie from the titles available on the screen of the tv.

“Anything you like! It’s your turn to pick” you said with a smile, leaning your head on his shoulder making Suguru smile. These tender displays of affection always made him feel so warm. Passing an arm around your shoulders he kissed your forehead.

You look up into his hazel eyes you blush. Suguru didn’t lose a second before he closed the space between your lips. The kiss was soft but meaningful, you didn’t hesitate to return it; wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to then climb on his lap straddling his hips.

The handsome sorcerer leans back, relaxing and running his hands slowly up and down your naked thighs covered only by the small fabric of your shorts, he strokes them softly leaving a path of warmth in the wake of his touch. Suguru deepened the kiss. His tongue delved in your mouth, slowly inviting yours to join the delicious dance. After a few minutes you pulled back, you are breathless. Your heart beats fast and the adrenaline was making you dizzy in anticipation.

Suguru looks at you, leaning his forehead against yours “I missed you” he ads before engulfing you in another passionate kiss, not even giving you the chance to reply. This time his lips are more demanding, his teeth nibbling your lower lip, requesting entrance. His tongue still tastes like the wine and you recognize his addictive flavor. Suddenly you find yourself laying on your back on the white couch, Suguru is on top of you and your legs are wrapped around his waist. Things are getting much more heated than you anticipated. Your hands roam the expanse of his back over hard muscles and warm skin covered only by the thin layer of his t-shirt. You know if you keep going this way you won’t be able to stop.

https://youtu.be/yBatuRGZAmA

youtube

A part of you doesn’t want this to end, you want to go all the way with Suguru. But… as much as you hate it, there is a tiny part of you that feels ambivalent about it. You wonder why is that you can’t just… do it!? You want Suguru! God! You desire him more than you can express with words, the growing wetness between your legs is evidence that you indeed were very much sexually attracted to him and yet your mind kept torturing you.

It was… complicated.

Your marriage with Satoru have been over longer than that piece of paper you got last week said. But erasing your feelings wasn’t something you could ever hope to do.

As much as you wanted to give yourself to Suguru it felt wrong that you were holding a part of yourself back. You wanted to give him everything, he deserved EVERYTHING of you. It wouldn’t be fair to just have sex with him when he deserved to be made love to.

You love Suguru, everyday that goes by your feelings for him grow and intensify, it was hard to even understand why would you hesitate and yet you did.

Your passionate kiss slowly becomes more tender until you are just sharing small pecks. Suguru pulls back with a little comforting smile; he felt the change in your body language, he knew what was going through your mind. You explained it to him before and he didn’t want to push you. He knew you needed to go at your own pace and he respected that.

“I’m… so-“ you starts apologetically but Suguru stops you with a little kiss “don’t… don’t apologize, I know baby…” he said reassuringly. Sealing his tender words with a kiss. When you separate again he asks “Alright little kitten, tell me… what’s it gonna be? ‘Dorian Grey’ or ‘Only Lovers Left Alive’?” Pulling you in his strong arms he cuddled with you on the couch, returning to the choices for movie you had.

You were so thankful for this man in your life “let’s go with ‘Only Lovers left Alive’”

With a last kiss he started the movie and pulled a blanket over you both.

He could wait, he would wait till the end of time. For you.

———-> Chapter 13/Part 1

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#gojo angst #gojo x you #jjk #geto x y/n #gojo saturo x reader #jjk suguru #jjkgojo #Youtube

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simonsrosebud · 3 years

Text

the one where someone doesn’t know who kevin day is, pt. 3

part one two four five

kevin has a talk with them the next morning before practice. or more of just him storming into the lounge and going off. the four freshman are there, too, but he doesn’t quite care.

“dalton isn’t fucked up like the rest of us! there’s a reason i didn’t want any of you meeting or even knowing about him and it’s not because i hadn’t fucking come out yet. he’s not a fox, and he’s not even thea. he’s not involved with exy, he doesn’t know about riko and me and the moriyama’s and the rest! there’s a lot of shit he doesn’t know about yet and none of you had the right throwing it all out in the air last night just to have a fucking laugh. tell me, was it funny? was it fucking funny getting him shitfaced just to get some answers and take the piss?!”

dan stands, and kevin holds a hand out. she looks to andrew, but his silence sides him with kevin. “kevin, we were just trying to-“

“you have no excuses, dan. none of you do. you were trying to make a fool of me and my boyfriend for nothing. and now, i have to go cure his curiosity of the things you all said.” and he storms out.

wymack doesn’t stop him. if anything, he looks mad at those left. “the fuck did you do to him to make him skip practice?! you realize that’s never happened so long as he’s lived, right?! we don’t have protocol for the day kevin skips exy.”

meanwhile, dalton doesn’t actually have that many questions. the numbing of alcohol for a face tattoo is understandable, especially knowing that kevin’s sober and therefore must have had a problem. the cracker dust he asks about just because he doesn’t know what it is- he doesn’t like it, but trusts kevin that he’s done with it. he’s seen the scar along kevin’s hand, he already assumed it was from a surgery. the edgar allen thing was too vague for him to be curious about, but he does ask- not about, the father comment, but if he’s okay about it. kevin tells him this much; that he transferred from edgar allen to palmetto because he’d known for a few years that wymack was his father, and that he didn’t have the courage to tell him until last year.

kevin thanks the gods that dalton doesn’t ask about or seem to remember any mention of the yakuza.

they’re at kevin’s suite because he knows they’ll have a few hours by themselves with everyone at the stadium, but only an hour in there’s knocking on the door. dalton has his lips on kevin’s- he’d just said how he likes having access to his “real smile”. “gonna get it?” kevin shakes his head. the knocking starts again.

“come on, kevin! we’re sorry! just open up for a second!”

kevin knows dalton likes when he speaks french, so he sighs and kisses him before whispering, “i hate them all.”

dan is at his door with matt and allison in tow. “what do you want?”

“to apologize.” kevin raises his eyebrows. “look, we take the piss a lot and you never seemed to be visibly affected by it, so we didn’t realize that last night was upsetting you until you left.”

“you said never have i ever seen kevin have a meltdown. why do you think you’ve seen that? because i’m a toddler? you know what i’ve had my reasons.” riko. the moriyamas.

“i know. look, we don’t want to give you excuses. i-i don’t have an explanation. you’ve always kind of let us take the piss without saying anything, and we took it too far, especially last night. andrew looked like he wanted to kill nicky for the yakuza comment, but neil talked to him about it before we went to the stadium this morning,” she whispers the last part because she’s not stupid, and kevin huffs.

matt jumps in. “we wanna make it up to you, man. you’ve obviously hid him from us for a reason and we proved you right.” kevin honestly wants to get back to dalton and he wants it to just be over with. “bring him to the winter banquet, we’ll be nice. if anyone says anything i’ll punch em. neil will chew em out.”

kevin grimaces. the ravens will be at the banquet. it’s in just over a month, the second week of december. he’ll have to tell dalton some things by then. and he might have to say something to the public.

he doesn’t tell him anything. not yet, at least. he still has three weeks until the banquet- he hasn’t even asked dalton yet. he starts to like away games a little more than before, though. he gets dalton a little postcard from every new state they go to. he tapes them all to one of the walls of his room.

he’s on the phone with dalton at an airport general store, even, when he gets interrupted by two girls. he puts on his press smile before he even notices. “hold on, d.”

he doesn’t love fan interactions.

when they leave, dalton asks him with amusement if he’s got fans now, and kevin kind of decides he should probably tell him some more about his life because jesus, does he have fans. he needs to tell him about he and riko. what they were, what they were to fans of exy, what kevin was to fans of exy. what kevin was to riko- without involving the yakuza.

but he doesn’t, because dalton never brings up the topic of “fans” again.

he doesn’t tell him until a week later, when he wakes up from a nightmare.

dalton’s leaning over him, speaking, but all kevin sees is riko riko riko. it takes all of two seconds for dalton to back off.

“hey, hey, it’s me, it’s dalton. you’re safe, you’re in my apartment. no one else is here, i promise.”

kevin’s breathing so hard, dalton flicks the lamp on and he just crumbles. he sits up and presses his hands over his eyes, “i’m sorry.”

“can i touch you?” he nods. dalton’s sitting at his side, cross legged, and gently pulls kevin’s hands off his eyes. “you don’t have to be sorry. i know there’s shit in here,” he lightly lifts his hands to hold kevin’s face and taps his temple with a finger, “i don’t need to know what it is, just know you don’t have to apologize for it, and know you’re safe.”

kevin nods and twists to hug him. and dalton wraps his arms securely around kevin’s back. he presses a kiss to the top of his head and mumbles “c’mere” to prompt kevin into climbing into his lap.

dalton slides his fingers through kevin’s hair and it’s just so soothing, it nearly puts him to sleep. and when dalton lays back down kevin stays wrapped around him with his cheek pressed to his chest.

when kevin wakes up it’s to find they’ve switched positions overnight. dalton’s got his arm lazily draped over kevin’s waist, almost holding him close like a pillow. his ankle is thrown over kevin’s, and his head is pressed into the back of kevin’s neck.

kevin doesn’t want to move. in fact, he stays so still so as to not wake dalton, that when he stirs kevin just shushes him and pulls dalton’s arm back around him. he holds his hand close to his chest.

dalton’s not stupid. he knows kevin’s awake and nuzzles himself closer. “you like being cuddled.”

“you’re the one doing it, not me.” but he definitely tilts further into the pillow to expose his neck when dalton starts kissing up the side.

“you like being the little spoon.” and pushes himself up over kevin. “you like when you’re on the bottom, kev.” he kisses him deep into the mattress despite morning breath, and noses down his neck. “i like it.”

kevin tugs at dalton’s hair. “and what… what about it?”

ahaha. aha. sex.

anyway.

he tells dalton everything afterwards. he leaves out the yakuza part, and the fact of neil’s past, because that’s another monster. but he tells him the rest. who his mother is and why he’s such a big deal in the exy world; why he really left edgar allen and came to the foxes; the tattoo that’s buried under his chess piece and what it meant. what his relationship with riko was really like, and everything about their past and the abuse he endured.

and he fills him in on what triggers him because of that: small pitch black rooms, confined spaces without an easy way out, holding his hand too tight, the mention of riko moriyama, a lot of other things.

and dalton stays.

so kevin asks him to the banquet. when he says yes, he asks wymack for help arranging an interview. there are enough people and press lingering outside the exy banquets, and he’d like to hold his boyfriend’s hand on the way in this year.

it’s scheduled to be live the morning before the banquet. it’s with sophie silletti for espn college exy, and she posts about it as soon as it’s booked.

kevin sits with her. it’s nothing like kathy ferdinand. they talk strictly about exy and eventually, with his pre-approved questions, she brings up thea’s team’s most recent game. “and forgive me if i’m wrong, but you and thea muldani split recently, yes?”

kevin nods. “back in may, i’d say. we’re still friendly, i have the utmost respect towards her. in the end it just didn’t work out.” i haven’t talked to her in months.

sophie nods. “everything happens for a reason, i’d like to think.”

“of course. it wouldn’t have led me elsewhere.”

“is that hinting at something? i feel we don’t normally talk about this, but does kevin day have someone new in his love life?”

kevin palms are sweating. he hopes his face isn’t red with nerves. “i do, actually. i won’t say anything about him for his own privacy” i don’t want the public’s prying eyes “but we’ve been together for a bit, now.”

sophie is grinning, she feigns surprise. “i heard you say him, did i not? anything else to tell us?”

he keeps his smile easy, but he can feel the worry in the back of his head telling himself they can see right through it. “if you’re asking, then sure. i’m a bisexual man, so yes, my partner is also a man. this is the first time i’ve ever announced it to the public, actually.” as if that wasn’t the whole point of today.

“at least your fangirls can keep their hopes up, then, yeah? still got a 50/50 shot! and i’ve got to say, i feel honored you trusted me and my show with a milestone like this. coming out certainly is a big deal, or at least nerve wracking! how do you feel?” she laughs. “is it like a weight lifted from your shoulders?”

“i was never too stressed about it.” lies. “some will hate, sure, but my job is the game. if my fans are true then this won’t change that. speaking of,” and then it’s back to exy.

wymack drives them back to palmetto, and when they’re close enough he says, “i’m proud of you for doing that.”

“thanks.”

“where am i dropping you off?”

kevin knows andrew and neil probably watched the interview, and he doesn’t feel like dealing with whatever they’ve got to say about it. so wymack drops him at dalton’s who hugs him as soon as he opens the door.

“you watched?”

“of course.” he kisses his cheek.

all posts/updates relating to this au can be found in the “OC: dalton miller” tag!

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mianavs · 3 years

Text

Elementary

falling for Ushijima was straightforward and uncomplicated—despite the complicated circumstances in which it occurred

Ushijima x f!reader

a/n: my first hq piece and it’s centered around mr. perfect himself. fluff and light angst

wc: 4k

It wasn’t until you saw Miyagi prefecture’s top ace, Ushijima Wakatoshi, walk behind your mother’s old friend that the real reason behind this meeting smacked you like a volleyball to the face. You were transferring to Shiratorizawa for your third year of high school after attending Aoba Josai for only a year because—well, because your mom decided and that was that. Like everything else in your life since your father left, your mom controlled every aspect of your life from the clothes you wore, the food you ate, the length of your hair, even the way you smelled—or so she thought.

Transferring to another prefecture in your second year of high school had been the icing on the cake when it came to your mother’s obsession with molding you into her ideal of a teenage girl. After the honeymoon stage of her remarriage was over, she decided that Tokyo was too hectic and the three of you would move back to her childhood home of rural Miyagi. Aoba Josai hadn’t been her first choice but Shiratorizawa wouldn’t accept you a month into the school year. There you met your friend, Hanamaki Takahiro, and got talked into managing the boys’ volleyball team for the simple reason that you were new and didn’t fawn over their setter, Oikawa Toru.

At first, your decision had everything to do with rebelling against your mother and joining a club she wouldn’t approve of; however, you soon found yourself enjoying the sport and befriending the team. Managing Seijoh meant you’d crossed paths with Ushijima prior to the awkward lunch you were currently having but you doubted he ever noticed you. Then again, you doubted a ‘volleyball monster’ like him noticed anything that wasn’t a volleyball or the net.

You were perfectly content with eating good sushi and drowning out the chatty women while ignoring your old rival now soon-to-be classmate but Ushijima-san turned her attention to you.

“Y/N, your mother told me you managed the boys’ volleyball team back at Aoba Josai.”

“Yes, I did.” You replied with a polite smile while remembering your mother’s outrage when she’d caught you after a game. Leave it to your mother to turn your rebellious stunt into a wonderful coincidence between you and your soon-to-be suitor, Ushijima.

“Wakatoshi, you’ve played Aoba Josai before. Do you recognize, Y/N?”

Ushijima took his eyes off his food and regarded you. The longer his olive eyes examined your face, the deeper he furrowed his brow—a clear indication he was trying hard to remember your face to no avail. You found yourself pitying him, a fact you would never admit to Oikawa, and spoke up before Ushijima could open his mouth.

“I wasn’t on the court much during the matches so Ushijima probably doesn’t remember me.”

“Oh, I see.” She then turned to her son. “Since Y/N will be attending Shiratorizawa and she has experience managing, why don’t you recommend her for a manager position with your team, Wakatoshi?”

“What?!”

Three sets of eyes were immediately on you while the pair next to you reached under the table and pinched your thigh in silent warning. You immediately lowered your eyes demurely and corrected your outburst.

“It’s just that I don’t have much experience and Shiratorizawa probably already has managers that are more than capable. I wouldn’t want to be a burden.”

“It’s no burden,” Ushijima deadpanned. “We need a new manager this year and since you have experience, I’ll recommend you to the coach.”

“Ah, you really don’t have to go out of your way for me by asking your coach. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with him!” You gave him an obvious forced smile and ignored the kick from your mother who read you like a book. The last thing you wanted was to manage a team that wasn’t Seijoh, especially if that team was Shiratorizawa.

“I see the coach everyday during practice so I won’t be going out of my way. He also trusts my judgement so I’m sure he’ll approve of you.”

You were sure any other girl would have jumped at the opportunity to manage a team like them but you weren’t just any girl. You were Seijoh’s ex-manager and couldn’t just switch teams like nothing. The looks of betrayal on the team’s face when they’d see you clad in the white and violet track jacket would be too much to take. Your mother, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about the Seijoh boys and dug her heel into your foot to the point that you had no choice but to thank Ushijima for his thoughtfulness.

“…Thank you, Ushijima.”

Shiratorizawa was a pleasant surprise for you. The academics were challenging but the support from your teachers and classmates made up for it. The fact that you stayed in dorms also helped ease the tension between you and your mom’s relationship. You argued less when you visited home on the weekends and even found yourself stalling your return on Sunday evenings. Your move to Shiratorizawa was almost perfect except for the whole volleyball manager situation. In the end, Coach Washijo and Ushijima approached you on the first day of school and you cowered under their intimidating gaze to accept the position.

The differences between Seijoh and Shiratorizawa were big and despite your experience, it was a struggle adapting to your new team. The team was very different from their style of play to the way they interacted with each other. You hated to admit it but they practiced long hours and it definitely showed during their matches. Shiratorizawa truly was a team that belonged in Nationals but whether you belonged there alongside them was still to be determined. Three months in and you were still struggling with the paperwork Coach Saito would demand from you after every practice.

“I need the documentation on their serves not their receives, L/N,” Saito stated shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry, Coach. I’ll bring it to your office first thing tomorrow!” You bowed in apology only straightening when he walked away. Biting your lip, you noticed Tendou and Ushijima’s eyes on you and walked away mortified that they witnessed you getting chewed out once again. You ignored the whispers from the other boys as you helped put away the equipment wanting nothing more than to return to your dorm and collapse on your bed. That was only wishful thinking, however, because the paperwork on the teams’ serves needed to be done, so you scribbled away on your notebook while the boys exited the gym.

“Do you need help?”

Ushijima stood in front of you with his signature blank face as his eyes trailed down to the figures on your notebook. You looked around expecting to see Tendou only to realize the two of you were alone.

“Uh, not really. I just have to get the numbers together but thank you, Ushijima.” You went back to flipping through your notebook hoping he’d get the message but instead he sat down next to you on the bleachers and watched you work. Over the past few months, you’d realized that Ushijima wasn’t good with non-verbals. After a while he cleared his throat and you looked up knowing he was about to speak.

“I wanted to thank you for accepting the position. I know it hasn’t been easy for you but we all appreciate your efforts.” His olive orbs were earnest despite the seriousness of his voice. Praise was rare for the team members and even rarer for you. So far, Reon was the only one who expressed his appreciation of you with quick thanks, high fives, or encouraging smiles. You chuckled to Ushijima’s confusion.

“Sorry, I’m just not used to being praised by you guys—well, except for Reon. Thank you, though, for checking up on me.” Your smile was genuine and his brow relaxed. You looked at the clock and realized the lights would go off soon so you packed your things and decided to head to the library to finish your work and start your homework.

“I’m gonna head to the library to finish this. Will you be going back to the dorms?”

“Yes, to shower and study for the history exam.”

You groaned at the reminder of your exam tomorrow which you meant to study for tonight. “I completely forgot about the exam tomorrow. I should really get going so I’ll see you later!” You bounded for the door but stopped when Ushijima called after you and met you by the door.

“We can study together. I am meeting with the other third years. We can help you finish the paperwork and then study for the exam.”

Being around the other third years, Tendou in particular, made you uncomfortable but you really needed to do well on the exam so you accepted and the two of you walked towards the dorms together. That night you learned more about the boys than you had over the past three months in practice. Semi and you bonded over music and sushi, Tendou cracked jokes about Ushijima that made you burst out laughing, and Reon answered all of the questions you had about the first and second years. You were so absorbed in your conversation with Tendou that you didn’t notice the small smile on Ushijiima’s face with his gaze solely fixed on you.

It was almost curfew when Ushijima and you walked towards your dorm after he insisted on escorting you. After spending time with him and the others, you felt more relaxed by his side and the urge to learn more about him ate away at you. You asked him about volleyball and that got him talking about his dad and his parents—a topic you could easily relate to.

“My dad isn’t around either,” You admitted. “He left when I was ten. I haven’t seen him since but he was never around much before anyway.”

“You seemed close with your mother,” He observed and you chortled in return.

“She’s my only parent so I don’t have much of a choice. That and she takes pleasure in controlling every aspect of my life to mold me into the perfect daughter.”

“My mother is also life that. She was very strict about my upbringing.”

“That’s probably why they’re such good friends,” you muttered and Ushijima did something you’d never seen him do—he chuckled. It was a low rumble in his chest that shouldn’t have sounded that pleasant but it did and you grinned satisfied that you got THE Ushijima to chuckle.

“How did your mom react to you playing volleyball?” You asked sitting on the bench near your dorm while Ushijima sat next to you.

“She was against it at first and only accepted it when I showed promise in it.” While Ushijima’s voice didn’t show much emotion, you found his eyes to be more expressive and fixed your attention on them as he stared ahead lost in thought.

“My mother freaked out when she found out I was managing Seijoh. It was the one thing I fought her tooth and nail on and actually won.”

“Really? She seemed pleased when I suggested you manage our team.” You giggled at his obliviousness to the plan your mothers had hatched since that fateful sushi lunch.

“I’m sure she found some merit in me managing the volleyball team.” With that you stood up and Ushijima mimicked you once again. “Anyway, thanks for tonight.”

The corners of Ushijima’s mouth twitched into an approximation of a smile that you found amusing. “You’re welcome. Have a good night, L/N.”

After getting to know Ushijima, you found yourself relying on him more and more during practice and games. It was only natural, of course, that you would interact with the captain the most and found your closeness to him reasonable. Just as you had grown closer to him, you had also gotten comfortable with the rest of the team and vice versa. Tendou, in particular, noticed you were clinging more to Ushijima than normal during the team’s first away game of the season. He made quips about you throughout the various sets the team played.

“Wakatoshi is over there, Y/N.”

“Do you want me to get Wakatoshi?”

“Need Wakatoshi again, Y/N?”

As the evening went on, you went from ignoring him to chucking a water bottle at him. It seemed that the more you reacted to his comments the more he wanted to tease you. Tendou found the perfect opportunity after the last set when you were reviewing your observations with Ushijima on his spikes and serves. While you found the proximity of your bodies perfectly reasonable, Tendou thought otherwise and voiced his opinion to the rest of the team.

“Wow, you guys look real good together. Like a couple!” The team mostly ignored him, used to Tendou’s outbursts, but the smug look on his face riled you up and you gripped your notebook ready to launch it at his face.

“L/N always looks good. She doesn’t need me for that.”

You could have heard a pin drop from how silent the gym had gone. Everyone’s attention was on the three of you—even the coach’s, to your mortification. You avoided looking at the person who’d caused the commotion and instead glared at Tendou until you saw the rare shock on his face that quickly melted into one of his genuine grin’s.

“Haaa...if you say so, Wakatoshi-kun.” He stalked passed your side but not before addressing you. “You heard him, Y/N.”

With burning cheeks, you turned to face Ushijima, who scanned your face in confusion. The longer he stared the redder your face got until he voiced the concern eating at him.

“Do you have a fever? Your face is flushed.”

You backed away and made up an excuse about the heat in the gym before putting away your notebook. Needing space to clear your head, you told Ushijima you would send him his data from the match later before you grabbed the water bottle bag and scrambled out of the gym to the bus. You tried blaming your scarlet face on the scene Tendou had caused but your traitorous heart raced as Ushijima’s words rang in your head like a mantra.

“L/N always looks good”

“L/N. always. looks. good”

While you knew that it would be inevitable, the match between Seijoh had you more nervous than usual. The boys knew you were Shiratorizawa’s manager and most of them had taken it pretty well. Hanamaki and Matsukawa still went to the movies with you and Iwaizumi occasionally texted you about volleyball but the one who it the hardest was, of course, Oikawa. He blocked your number when you tried reaching out and Hanamaki told you to give him time so you stopped trying. Seeing him again ate at you during the bus ride to your old school and judging from the worried looks the team sent you, they were well aware of your inner turmoil.

It began with Goshiki, your favorite underclassman, reassuring you everything would be okay and walking next to you when Reon and Semi joined him until the entire team surrounded you. Ushijima walked behind you and his confident aura comforted you as you stepped into the gym and your old team regarded you with guarded expressions.

The match ended after three sets but Shiratorizawa won yet again despite Aoba Josai playing better than you’d ever seen them play. Knowing better than to avoid the team, you went to refill your team’s bottles near where Seijoh would exit hoping you would get a chance to greet them. Sure enough, they filed out the double doors and greeted you with waves and nods before Hanamaki, Matsukawa, and Iwaizumi walked out and approached you. They smiled and joked with you despite losing and your heart felt lighter knowing you could still joke around with the boys like this. They left to find the coach for the post-match meeting and you were about to look for your boys when Oikawa rushed out of the gym before stopping in his tracks when he saw you. His usual cocky smile was nowhere to be found and instead he wore a scowl on his face which you knew meant he was upset.

“Well look who we have here. If it isn’t our traitor ex-manager.” You weren’t used to him addressing you coldly and your throat closed.

“O-Oikawa, I kno—”

“Having fun running around with that bastard Ushiwaka?” He stalked towards you and backed you up into the wall.

“I didn’t have a choice, Oikawa. I swear I wasn’t going to do it but things got complicated.”

“I don’t wanna hear your excuses, Y/N. Was this your plan all along? Manage us for a year until Shiratorizawa let you in and then run to them and disclose all our plays, strengths, and weaknesses?” Oikawa closed in on you, his ugly smirk contrasting with his pretty features. “You’re pathetic—”

“Oikawa, don’t take out your anger on our manager. It’s not her fault you lost.”

There was an edge to Ushijima’s normal emotionless tone as he stood next to you. Seeing his strong confident body made you realize you were trembling like a leaf. Oikawa ignored you and placed his full attention on his greatest enemy.

“We’ll beat you next time. Even with a traitor like her by your side we’ll win!” With that, Oikawa threw one last sneer in your direction before stalking away. With all of the fight sucked out of you by Oikawa, you kept your face lowered as you reached for the heavy bag but Ushijima beat you to it and slung the bag over his shoulder.

“Let’s go, Y/N.”

You didn’t know if it was the confrontation with Oikawa or the fact that Ushijima stood by your side but hearing him call you by your first name triggered an emotional switch within you and sobs escaped the confines of your mouth. Before Ushijima could turn around, you gripped his jacket and buried your face in it to muffle your cries; the last thing you wanted was to cause another scene. Ushijima stayed still until your cries ceased and that was when you discovered that he also radiated comforting warmth. You stuck by his side the rest of the day ignoring the surprised looks from the team.

On the rare weekends that you didn’t have volleyball or schoolwork to do, you still spent them with Ushijima—and your respective families. Your mothers had stopped being discrete about their intentions regarding the two of you but Ushijima seemed blissfully unaware. You had already accepted your feelings for Ushijima but the smug look on your mother’s face every time Ushijima would pull your chair during dinner or would wait for you to walk together fueled your determination not to show them, at least not in her presence. Years of quietly rebelling against your mother’s control made it hard to accept the fact that she was right about Ushijima.

When you weren’t with your families, you clung to Ushijima more. He was your pillar not only on the team but in school as well. You sought him out regularly until the two of you did everything together, occasionally joined by Tendou, Semi, or Reon. Having a crush on Ushijima was easy for you because no matter how much you clung to him or showed your affection with cold water, soft towels, and snacks; he would never think too much of it. He was completely devoted to volleyball and had no mind to ponder over your tentative glances, tinted cheeks, and lingering touches—or so you thought.

It was the end of the year and volleyball season had ended on a bittersweet note for the third years. While everyone else, including you, scrambled to figure out what to do after graduation, Ushijima knew his place was on the volleyball court and was deciding on what professional team’s offer to accept.

The two of you were sitting on his bed with applications and paperwork spread around the two of you. While Ushijima flipped over contracts from various teams, you looked over the acceptance letters and scholarship offers from universities. You had been on the fence between two schools—one in Tokyo and the other in Osaka—but after reviewing the scholarship money and the program, you decided on Tokyo.

“I’m going with Tokyo,” you declared picking up that school’s acceptance letter. Ushijima glanced at the letter and leaned in to read it. “It’s a good school. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

“What about you? Have you decided on a team?” He turned his attention back to the various papers before fishing out a particular contract. “I just did.”

He showed you the contract for the Schweiden Adlers, a Tokyo based team, and your heart stopped. You searched his face for a hint of hesitation but, true to his character, Ushijima’s face betrayed nothing.

“What do you mean you just did?” You needed to know what he meant because your heart wouldn’t stop racing unless he disproved what you were hoping.

“Since you chose a school in Tokyo, I’d have to choose a team in Tokyo to stay by your side.” He was as earnest as ever but you needed more.

“That’s not a valid reason, Wakatoshi. You need to prioritize your future and pick a team that will let you accomplish your goals.” You choked on your words knowing that his response would most likely break your heart.

“I am thinking about my future,” he replied and your eyes were met by a burning expression you’d only seen during volleyball matches. “My goals are to play professional volleyball and marry you in the future.”

You didn’t breathe, didn’t move a muscle. Your body was frozen on the spot but your heart thumped erratically in your chest. After his words registered, your nose began to sting and tears of joy streamed down your face. A panicked look flashed on Ushijima’s face and you punched his arm.

“How can you say that when we aren’t even dating officially?!”

“I thought we were. We’ve gone on multiple dates, Y/N.” He seemed genuinely surprised by your question and it only riled you up even more.

“You. Never. Confessed! How am I supposed to know?!” You hit him again and again letting out your pent-up frustration. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear your confession or rejection?! I’ve liked you for a while, you know!”

With a gentleness he only showed around you, Ushijima reached over and wiped the tears from your cheeks. “I like you too, Y/N. I’ve felt this way for quite some time but I figured you knew.”

You clasped his hands and brought them down to your lap. His confession warmed your heart in the way that only he could and you calmed down.

“Since when? How long have you felt this way?” Giving his hands a gentle squeeze, you asked the question you needed to know.

“The first lunch we had with our mothers. I wanted to get to know you better but didn’t know how. When my mother mentioned you managing Aoba Josai, I knew it was my chance. That was why I insisted on you managing the team. It was the only way I could get to know you better.”

You chuckled realizing that he had been uncommonly insistent that day in regard to you managing. Ushijima gave you one of his rare smiles and you acted on your impulses by leaning forward and pressing your lips on his, in a gentle caressing kiss.

Your mother had controlled everything in your life. You would fight her on certain things but, most of the time, she won. You became so accustomed to opposing her decisions that you immediately rejected Ushijima without giving him a proper chance. It wasn’t until you got to know the ‘Super Volleyball Idiot’ that you concluded your mother had been right about one thing—Ushijima Wakatoshi was the only man for you.

#hq #hq fanfic #ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima fanfic #ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #ushijima x y/n #ushijima fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #navs.hq

294 notes · View notes

myelocin · 3 years

Text

maybe we could have been it | akaashi keiji

synopsis: akaashi thinks of you, the faded photograph next to the ring with the bigger stone he didn’t need to spend a couple paychecks on, and the chocolate cake that reminded him of home. of you. (sidepiece to on the faded side of the photograph)

characters: akaashi keiji, you, mentions of miya osamu

genre: hurt/comfort, slice of life, post breakup

wc: 1500+

a/n: fam why did i write this i am in pain ;;;;;; all the same (plz i beg listen to it it’s the whole soundtrack to this whole story KJSDFSK)

sometimes, akaashi thinks, he kind of wants to do something stupid.

he knows that if he really looks at things, it’s only just a matter of closing a notebook, ripping off a few pages, booking a ticket, and betting on adrenaline to give him the five second boost he needs to call up bokuto and ask for your address to fix things.

but that isn’t the case, and the adrenaline is only waist level at best. akaashi knows he isn’t overwhelmed enough to pick up the phone and dial a familiar set of numbers. even when he does get to that point, adrenaline rises only towards chest level. he can still breathe, and with that breath akaashi knows his actions at this point will still be guided by reason.

so even if bokuto’s asking him if he’s heard from you lately, and the question of “how is she?” is at the tip of his tongue, when akaashi shifts he feels the water sway around his chest while the horizon before him is as clear as day.

in the moment, he’s aware that if he stays and lets the waves rise, he’ll drown if he goes under. neither the rush nor adrenaline holds him under, and akaashi, in a way both dreads and praises the fact that his head is still above the water.

his fingers pause in place, and he thinks of the polaroid of you, the ring, and nara in his wallet.

then he breathes, and it kind of aches, but he can still breathe.

he can still reason.

his heart clenches and he tries to tell himself it’s because of the nerves and the almost slip up of his crafted composure, and not because his heart is screaming for you.

bokuto stays silent on the line, so akaashi knows his clock is ticking.

so “no,” akaashi would be the words he always hears himself reply, and he’d swallow the question he’s tried asking time and time again for months now back down just like that. “i haven’t heard from her.”

“that’s okay,” is the reply he gets, and from the tone of bokuto’s voice, akaashi knows there wouldn’t be an extension offered for the conversation. sometimes he thinks that if the world were to throw a lifeline at him, he would ignore rationality and ask for you.

because for a while, he looked and listened for one. he looked at your profile, and counted the days where you were last active. listened for bokuto’s voice just with a bit more attention whenever he’d mention your name, and what you’ve been doing.

just that lifeline, akaashi thinks to himself every time. if the world, or in this case, you, were to give him just that, he’d be on the next flight back to tokyo.

then the world gave you happiness, he realizes.

happiness that was manifested in the form of miya osamu, a few kind words that sent a tidal wave of everything good your way, and a bakery with your recipes right across the onigiri shop you found home in.

the silence that follows, akaashi notes, is the kind that stretches like from the night that started your end.

because perhaps it was just borrowed time.

the love between the both of you was as real as life, but a forever wasn’t guaranteed with just love and hope as armor. the reality of the fall out, had been there all along, akaashi realizes. initially it was a little hard to face, but he supposes that it’s difficult because it truly was love at its purest form.

love, in accordance to your story, had always been just an emotion that’s raw and so, so unapologetically beautiful to the point that it tore you open when reality came and announced how love alone wasn’t enough to satiate the way of the world.

so akaashi cries that night he finds miya osamu’s name, because like the heartbreak he felt when he parted with you, the emotion that announced its arrival in the moment, he realizes, is killing him all the same.

his finger hovers over the send button on the right side of his phone screen, right next to the congratulations that took a couple shots of the strong kind of liquor to type out. the faded photograph with the two people smiling in nara sits on the table next to the ring he finally bought without having to blow a couple of paychecks.

he knows that there’s no one to blame, so he downs another shot—squeezing his eyes at the burn that he tells himself he welcomes on the back of his throat.

the chocolate cake in spain doesn’t taste anything like yours, he smiles to himself. when akaashi closes his eyes, more tears prick at his eyes when he hears your voice muffled by the walls that separated the kitchen in the apartment from his office.

and perhaps that was already a way the universe foreshadowed the inevitable end of love, for the both of you. another shot downed, but despite the burn still present in his throat, he grabs the bottle and pours himself another. a couple smiles still stare at him, faded, from the photograph akaashi keeps his eyes trained at.

you probably smiled in the kitchen that day, akaashi thinks to himself. eyes sparkling, tongue poking out in concentration, and a radiance that hung around you because he knows that during the last few months of the relationship, that was really the only time he saw you blooming.

he hears your voice again, but he doesn’t make out what you say; he finds himself wincing at the realization that recalls the words written in his contract vividly instead.

that night akaashi keiji downs almost seven shots because it finally dawns on him that all this time he’s only been hearing you, and never took the time to listen.

so, congratulations, the screen on his phone reads, but even with the liquid confidence setting fire to his veins in the moment, he takes his phone in his hands and deletes the message instead. smiling at the chocolate cake in front of him, he foregoes the eighth shot in his glass, and takes a bite from the slice instead.

if he were a little more sober, akaashi knows he’d have wiped his face from the tears by now, but all he registers is the thought that he thinks he’s crying, because somewhere between the second and the third bite, he suddenly sees you; apron around your waist, oven mitts that looked a little too silly on your hands, and a bit of frosting that he remembers always found its way on your cheek no matter how careful you were in the process.

it doesn’t taste the same, he cries, but then cries harder because he doesn’t remember how your recipe even tasted in the first place.

but the smell of chocolate lingers in the fucking air, and if he closes his eyes he knows he’s going to think of home, and of you.

you, an apartment that was home for so many years, and a love that was kept alive because of borrowed time.

this it it, akaashi thinks, the smell of chocolate right under his nose.

this was home, he heaves, dropping the fork and hiding his face in his hands when the weight of the ending finally settles on his shoulders.

you were home, and you were love.

he cries harder, sounding a little more broken. the photograph remains still in its time; the people with the smiles changed, and the memory of nara remembered with a different kind of sentiment now.

so that night, akaashi turns off his phone, caps the bottle, pockets the photo and the ring, and gives the rest of the cake to his neighbor’s son who he remembered has a bit of a sweet tooth. he lays in bed with the image of you, a ring that didn’t look like the one hidden in his drawer, and the radiance he feels is now connected to the name miya osamu.

then he books a ticket.

a one way ticket headed to tokyo, because akaashi keiji supposes he doesn’t regret the time he spent with you.

so, when he finally settles on asking you how you’re doing—he smiles because you reply that you’re doing just fine. and the ring on your finger doesn’t fly past his line of vision, because he suddenly feels the lump in his throat again.

“four years in spain, huh?” you ask, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“yeah. extended a year, i might be permanently transferring there in the future,” he replies, a statement he knows is only a lie, and this time he looks straight towards you and not at the wall behind you.

you smile.

and you look happy, akaashi thinks.

“you went out of schedule,” he hears you laugh softly.

“i guess i did,” akaashi replies, laughing along to the irony of your words, before he finally says, “i’m sorry.”

299 notes · View notes

shih-coulda-had-it · 3 years

Note

Headcanon gran was mute in his younger days like the only people who hear him talk was people close to him nana etc. But still a man of few words like hearing him talk was if hell froze over (after nana died he had to start teaching so communication was a must) defiantly know sign language.

I like this headcanon! It fits well with what's been given to us, which is Sorahiko being relatively silent until Nana's dead. Extra notes: From multiple Google searches, JSL is mainly taught to the deaf, and even in the community, there are divisions amongst vocabulary. Japanese Sign Language (JSL) has three forms, and uses fingerspelling and mouthing as supplemental context tools.

This ficlet is in Toshinori's POV because I couldn't quite lock down on when I wanted this version of Nana and Sorahiko to have met.

It’s Toshinori’s first time meeting Shimura’s partner, and he is not ready.

He had thought he’d been ready for anything, that first afternoon he chased Seventh Wonder down the path along the canal: a gentle pat on the shoulder before discouragement, derisive laughter, or worse. But against all the odds, Toshinori’s earnest (and frantic) pitch found a willing listener.

Seventh Wonder introduced herself as Shimura Nana three months ago. She advised him on workout routines, and on weekends, she went through grappling maneuvers and recounted stories about life as a pro-hero.

Toshinori hadn’t dared to let himself think Shimura was treating him as anything but a charity case. But last month, Shimura’s stories had acquired a different, almost conspiratorial tone. She also began instilling in Toshinori a rudimentary knowledge of Japanese Sign Language.

(This latter development is blithely reasoned away as dexterity training. As for the former...)

Last Sunday, Shimura revealed herself to be in possession of a transferable stockpile Quirk.

It remains a miracle to Toshinori that Shimura trusts him not only with the knowledge, but also the actual future of holding One for All. Of potentially fulfilling his dreams to lift Japan out of its paranoid, panic-ridden state. Sure, the drawbacks are scary (All for One? Blowing off his limbs?) but Shimura assures him that she has plans.

One of these plans is her partner, Gran Torino.

Toshinori knows practically nothing about the man. Shimura doesn’t gossip, and no matter how Toshinori scoured the Internet, he couldn’t even find a picture. The most he has is what’s on the Nippon Hero Association’s online registry.

Gran Torino. Quirk: Jet. Active for three years as opposed to Seventh Wonder’s nine.

He reflexively slows his pace to the meadow where Shimura trains him, eyes widening at the stranger standing beside Shimura. Tall, imposing, clad in a brown leather jacket and denim jeans and Western cowboy boots. His hair is silver. He is gesturing at Shimura and mouthing in time with his decisive hand movements, but try as Toshinori might, he cannot hear a sound.

Shimura signs back, smoother, until Torino (it’s got to be Gran Torino) disgruntledly brushes his sternum and sets his fists waist-high for a second. A concession. For what problem?

She glances around Torino and spies Toshinori, who is stock-still because he might have been the cause of an argument between Shimura and her partner. She smiles; Torino grimaces with a tight-lipped frown. “Yagi-shonen! Come over here, don’t be shy!”

“Shimura-san,” Toshinori greets, rushing to close the distance. “Sorry if I’m late!”

“Ah, no,” says Shimura. “It’s more like we’re early.”

To Gran Torino, Toshinori executes a quick bow and comes up with his hands fumbling through an introduction. “Good morning,” he says, clumsily spinning and crooking his fingers. He’s learned this. He’s learned this. “My name is Yagi Toshinori. It’s nice to meet you.”

Torino blinks down at him. His expression is unreadable.

Toshinori gulps. “Did I do it wrong…?”

As Shimura hums a noncommittal sound (which is universal for, ‘Well, it could’ve been better,’ which Toshinori is certainly not about to disagree with), Torino critiques Toshinori’s attempt in a single soul-evaporating word.

“Hasty.”

“Sorahiko,” Shimura chides in a fond tone, and she knocks her shoulder into his, friendly and affectionate. Torino exhales through his nose; he shoves back before straightening his spine. The difference between Torino and Toshinori’s height extends.

“Gran Torino,” the man introduces himself in a low, clipped voice. He fingerspells this, and his actual name, until Toshinori crabs onto the impromptu lesson and commits the signs to memory. Once he’s met Torino’s standards, Torino says, “Hn,” before falling silent.

Shimura seamlessly picks up the thread of conversation. “Have you had breakfast yet, Yagi-shonen?”

“Ahahaha,” says Toshinori. “I had a slice of toast?”

“Hm. Well, it’s your lucky day. We haven’t had breakfast yet either! Here, here, take this,” and Shimura hoists a picnic basket into Toshinori’s arms, “and Sorahiko, you’ve got the duffel.”

Unimpressed, Torino signs, “And you?”

“I,” says Shimura, offloading a meter-long duffel bag into his arms and unzipping it briefly, just to pull out a rolled-up blanket, “am picking out a breakfast spot.”

Torino snorts.

The breakfast spot ends up being under a tree; the blanket absorbs the dew leftover on the grass immediately, but Toshinori would be willing to suffer the dampness every day if it meant being gifted a bento for breakfast. The ovular box is filled to the brim. Rice, egg, pickled vegetables, grilled salmon…!

“Shimura-san,” says Toshinori, awed, “did you make all this?”

“Nope! I wasn’t even allowed to touch the pan.” Shimura passes over an additional thermos. Uncapping it allows miso-scented steam to waft away.

“Torino-san, thank you for the meal!”

“Hn,” Torino grunts.

The first few bites are pure, uninterrupted bliss. A good breakfast, however, comes at a price. Toshinori is only halfway through the pickled vegetables when Shimura announces, “Sorahiko is here to help you prep for the entrance exam into U.A., Yagi-shonen.”

“What?”

“They’re increasing the difficulty of the exams,” she informs him. “The physical component in particular.”

“I thought it was just an obstacle course,” says Toshinori, a tad bewildered.

“Ha! That information is outdated by, uh, Sorahiko, when did Recovery Girl complain…”

Torino flashes three fingers, and doesn’t seem to need to add any other signifier, because Shimura gets the answer right on the first try.

“Right, right, three days. So three days ago, Recovery Girl called us up to complain about how her colleagues are reacting to the escalating pro-hero turnover rate. Lots of, ‘we need to demonstrate the reality early if we’re going to winnow out the spineless applicants,’ y’know?”

“Oh,” says Toshinori faintly.

“So,” Shimura continues,”you should expect to walk away from the entrance exam with some bruises. Lots of bandages too. Unless!”

“Unless?”

“I’m right, and having the Gran Torino here providing, ah, supplementary combat training will put you ahead of the legacy students!”

“That’s not… illegal?” It’s one thing to mask grappling maneuvers as play-wrestling in an abandoned meadow, and even then, Shimura was quick to tug them both back onto their feet. It’s a whole other thing to train Toshinori, whose records will show him distinctly unconnected, to beat out his peers.

“It’s a little bit illegal,” she confesses. “But so is giving you One for All, and we can’t exactly do anything about that.”

“I don’t have to go through the heroics program,” Toshinori says, even though he really, really wants to. “You could save One for All until I graduate high school, and then I won’t be a minor.”

Shimura smiles at him like a promise. “If I say you’re getting One for All before U.A., then you’re getting this Quirk and getting into your dream school, Yagi-shonen. You will, of course, be earning it. And then everything is unquestionable!”

Gran Torino clears his throat. Shimura looks over, and her brow furrows in concentration. Toshinori catches a few words by lipreading.

“Questionable relationship,” he signs.

“Ah. Yeah, that’s still true. Can I get away with ‘Shimura-sensei’ without a credential?”

“Flimsy.”

Toshinori has a sudden idea. “Ah, Shimura-san… what if I called you Shimura-shishou?” Hm. That sounds wrong. This is the pro-hero who’s practically giving Toshinori a second chance at life; she is deliberately fixing fate, intending to give a Quirkless kid a Quirk of unimaginable potential. Seventh Wonder, Shimura Nana - she deserves the greatest respect. “Oshishou?”

Her eyes widen. So do Gran Torino’s.

“Ah,” says Shimura, stunned.

“The Nippon Hero Association was talking about apprenticeships,” he reminds her.

Torino signs to Shimura, “How old is he?”

“Fourteen.”

“Less than a year to fifteen,” Toshinori adds. He may or may not have looked up apprenticeship laws. So long as the administration doesn’t pry, then he could just be a scrappy student with civilian origins. And then once U.A. would get into the swing of things, Toshinori would be old enough to potentially be apprenticed.

Not that they would ever sign paperwork. Shimura has been adamant about keeping Toshinori safe, and being safe means his civilian life needs to be squeaky-clean.

“I’m definitely not certified to be a master of this profession,” says Shimura. “Are you comfortable with this, Yagi-shonen?”

“Yes,” says Toshinori. He says it firmly, implacably, trying to invoke the same tone that once persuaded Seventh Wonder to stay on the ground and hear out a Quirkless kid’s dream. “Without a doubt, oshishou.”

She huffs and looks down at her half-eaten breakfast; her ears are turning pink. Silently, Torino reaches over and touches her wrist. Toshinori hurriedly returns to his own meal, feeling like he’s intruding on some moment.

And softly:

“Alright, Yagi-shonen. Alright.”

#bnha #yagi toshinori #all might #torino sorahiko #gran torino #shimura nana #nanahiko but like pre slowburn #shih.txt #asks #thealphabearart #toshinori is too polite to ask why and when jsl became a thing for them #therefore it's up to the reader :)

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barzzal · 3 years

Note

hi! would you be willing to do a part 3 to the angsty dad! mat fic? i need a happy ending 🥺

read part one and part two here. also, i listened to gone gone gone by honne while writing 💞

theo’s laughter was all that you can hear as soon as you got out of your mom’s guest room.

it was over a week since you left mat. pretty much the same amount of time you have been dodging his calls. he tried coming over your workplace a couple of times but you managed to make your assistant turn him away. you were quite amazed that he’d even put an effort but you still needed time to think things through and so, you were thankful that your mom was kind enough to tell him you and theo weren’t in her house the first time he came over.

“good morning, mommy!” theo greets you enthusiastically with his mouth still full from taking a bite off his waffles. he effortlessly earns a smile from you as you bent down to kiss the top of his head.

“no talking while you’re chewing your food, young man.” you tell him, your little boy willingly submits to what was asked of him. you kiss your mom on the cheeks who was already sipping her morning coffee across from your son on the breakfast table.

“good morning, sweetheart.” she says, greeting you with a smile.

“guess who has called me thrice so early in the morning?” your mother suggestively looks at you whilst she reads her morning paper.

you didn’t want to assume that it was who you were thinking of so you just shortly give her a shrug before grabbing the pot to transfer coffee into your work tumbler.

“if running away worked with your dad, i wouldn’t have ended up marrying him, y/n.” your mom subtly reminds you, carefully choosing the right words so the little one wouldn’t pick up on what the two of you were talking about.

theo has been asking a lot about mat since the first morning you’ve spent at your mom’s. he wasn’t really used to not seeing his dad everytime he wakes up or goes to sleep. and you know, that as a child yearning for his father, theo’s bound to realize what happened between the two of you any time soon.

“ma, dad’s different. he’s a good father.” you remind her. knowing your mom, however, you should have known that she’ll just be throwing the same rock at you.

“and so is yours. that man just needs a little nudge.” she says, giving theo a glass of water when he was done savoring his first meal for the day.

“theo, baby, could you get your school bag now? we’ll be going in a bit.” you politely ask him. your son eagerly nods as he zooms off towards the guest room where the two of you have been staying for the time being.

when theo was far enough from hearing the two most important women in his life (exactly how your son worded it last night), you sit across from your mom and took the shot of listening on what she has to say.

“you’re supposed to be partners, darling. i really don’t get why you choose to team up against each other when everyone knows you’re far better off together.”

“mom, it doesn’t work like that.” you tell her.

your mother was quick to raise a brow at what you’d just said, “tell me how it works then.”

you scratch your temple at the growing uneasiness beginning to creep up your spine under your mom’s heavy gaze.

“he’s... he’s no longer the man i married. he wasn’t like this. and i–” your mom immediately cuts you off with a scoff, “and you think you’re still the woman he married? sweetie, the reason why there’s an awful lot of failed marriages out there is because they fail to remember one salient thing about keeping one.��

you were quiet for a while. admittedly wanting to hear the rest of what your mom was going to say.

“and what is it?”

“it’s not gonna be easy.” she says, eyes darting on yours.

“it’s gonna be a mess. but you and mat? i know you’ll be able to make it work. anyway, if you really think you’re gonna end up on that road, then by all means, do it. if you can picture yourself raising theo without him, i’ll be with you every step of the way.” she stands when the doorbell rings, starting to make her way towards where your son was currently at.

“could you get that for me, sweetheart?” she says motioning towards the front door, already receding into the hallway.

you stand and head towards the door. you didn’t bother to look through the peep hole for you thought your mom was just getting her parcel.

but as soon as you opened the door, what you saw was an anxious mat, running his hands through his hair, the other fidgeting on his waist, and his back turned against you, desperately wishing to see his wife and his son.

you were stunned to see him. even though he was wearing decent clothes, you could already tell just by how deranged he looked, with heavy circles present underneath his eyes, and the fact that he looks tired, you realize that this whole thing might be taking a toll on him worse than you could even imagine.

“y/n.” a quiet whisper escapes his lips. obviously surprised you were the one to greet him by the door when he was actually hoping to talk to your mom.

“what are you doing here?” you ask him, voice dead and cold.

“y/n, please.” he pleads, contesting with himself because he didn’t want to push you further over the edge. he knew that you didn’t want to see him, and even if it kills him, knowing that his son was inside that house kills him a million times more.

“please talk to me.” you avert his gaze and shake your head no but just as you were about to close the door, your son walks out the room and sees mat at the end of the hallway.

as he meets his father’s eyes, a gleeful look was all that’s painted on his little face, “daddy!!!” he squeals, running past you and straight into mathew’s arms.

mat was already over the moon at the sight of his young man. your grip on the knob tightens as you try to keep yourself together upon the sight unravelling before you.

“daddy, where were you?” theo begins to cry, his arms almost choking mat for clinging onto him a little too tight.

mat looks at you for a moment, silently asking for your approval. when you only break off from his gaze, he takes it as a yes.

“i... i’m sorry but daddy had to sort out some things, buddy.” he says once theo’s small and tiny arms lets go of his hold.

“hey, don’t cry.” mathew hushes, wiping theo’s cheeks with the back of his hand. evidently shattered for having to see his son this way.

“are you going to leave again?” theo sniffs and innocently asks, unconciously hitting a sensitive nerve between you and mat.

mat looks at you for a moment for he didn’t know if he still has to leave nor was he still welcome to come back. he didn’t want to step in so abruptly because he knows it’ll just be all too overwhelming for you. and he couldn’t let himself cause you much pain than he already has. but he also couldn’t let theo hang by a thread just because the two of you couldn’t work things out together.

“no.” he finally says. “not anymore.”

he wishes that you caught on what he really meant. he was going to make up for all the shit you had to put up with him. you have given him a glimpse of what his life would be like without you in it. he just couldn’t stand a day without you and theo, and he knew that if he’d continue being short of the man you married, it wouldn’t take long before you finally realize that you and theo are better off without him in the picture.

you take your son’s hands away from him, reminding him that he still had a lot to go through.

“sweetie, come on, we’ll be late for school.” you say in a tone that even sounded differently in theo’s ears.

“can daddy come with us?” he asks you, shyly tugging onto your skirt.

you only give him a forced smile, ruffling his hair as you hold his hand firmly, “no, baby, he still has some things to work out.”

theo’s face drops at what you said, but even then he was quick to plaster a smile and look back at his father. “daddy, will you come to my play on saturday?” he asks, arms already clinging onto mat’s neck as fast as he broke off from your hold.

“you’re in a play?” mat’s eyes widen at the thought of seeing theo on a stage, making you roll your eyes, something that’s definitely reminded you of why you were in this situation in the first place.

theo wildly nods, making mat smile from one ear to the other. “i’ll be there.”

once theo lets go of mat’s arms, you take him by the hand and begin treading your way towards your car, leaving mat alone as he watch his life walk away from him for the second time.

𖥸

you were already running late for theo’s play and you still haven’t got a hold of mathew. it was bad enough that you actually hoped he’d try to at least make an effort but now you’ll have to put up with another disappointment when you tell your son his own father couldn’t be bothered to come for his play.

did you honestly think he’d give a damn?

you have never walked this fast all your life. the only thing that was going on in your mind was the image of your son, alone and scared as he peek through the curtains, only to find neither of his parents present for his event. you can’t possibly do that to a three-year-old.

but frankly, mathew can.

“mrs. barzal!” theo’s teacher came running towards you, wearing her warm smile as usual.

“hi. i’m sorry i’m a bit late, where is theo?” you ask her, still panting and catching for breath.

“oh, don’t worry! theo’s already at the backstage with your husband.” she says, motioning towards the wide doors.

you thought you just misheard her so you ask just to make sure, “excuse me? what do you mean—”

“theo came in with his dad an hour ago, ma’am.” she says, the two of you making your way towards the backstage.

once you’ve set foot in the dressing room, you see your boys too immersed as they go over theo’s lines. mat was practicing along, mouthing every line theo utters.

“show’s in about five minutes.” theo’s teacher excuses herself and goes on to do a final check on the kid’s routine.

as you take in the scene before you, you can’t help but stumble in your steps, overwhelmed that mat finally kept his word this time.

you clutched your purse close to your chest when theo caught a glimpse of you, enough to make mat turn his head towards where you were standing.

“mommy! you’re late!” theo reprimands, making you laugh a little.

you make your way towards them, crouching to meet your son at eye level, “i’m sorry.” you coo, admittedly in awe of your son’s attire and costume. you pepper theo’s cheeks with kisses as an attempt to make up for the time you’ve spent working away from him. mat quietly smiles as he watches you and theo so close, yet still so far before his eyes.

you watched mat go over theo’s lines for the last time before theo’s teacher called the kids to huddle them up to get the show started. soon, all the parents were ushered down the stage and into your respective seats.

“hey.” mat takes your hand for a moment before following the rest of the parents exiting the backstage.

he sighs, a little uncertain and afraid of what you might tell him afterwards but he just couldn’t take another day without you or theo in his life.

he wants you back.

he wants you home.

he wants you.

“i’ll be better.” he sincerely says, fighting the lump he’s beginning to feel in his throat upon remembering the nights he had to endure without you in his arms.

“i know.” you reply, smiling genuinely as you entwine your hand with his, this time, letting him know that you’ll never let go.

#in all seriousness 🥺🥺🥺 i’m okay now #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fanfiction #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #hockey fic #nhl fic #mat barzal fic #barzzal blurbs

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serenasoutherlyns · 3 years

Text

Not a Summer Crush Part Four

a/n: this is a long one! enjoy. this chapter features coffee, colds, cuteness, serena southerlyn, schemes, saturdays. all feedback makes me LOVE you, so please please reblog, reply, like, anything! you can always find this on ao3 as well. happy evening, and part five coming at you soon!

Part Four

"Haley," Anderson stopped you in the kitchen the next day. He was reaching into the fridge to get one of the terrible salads he always ate and you were rinsing out your French press (you figured, there were plenty of coffee shops nearby but a) you didn't need to be spending your money like that and b) the way the grounds fell as you pushed them slowly to the bottom had more than once brought you moments of enlightenment). You didn't stop to listen initially but he continued. "Haley," he said, "how do you do," he paused, gestured to your whole body, "that."

You looked at him, blinked, expecting him to clarify, but he did not. You laughed at him, gently, appropriately. "I don't know, Anderson, I was born 27 years ago," he winced, "I did some things, I'll do some more things, in fact, I spend most of my time doing," you gestured to yourself, "this."

He opened his mouth a few times, trying to think of what he meant, but said, "I mean, you work sex crimes, and you're so,"

"Exuberant?" You said.

"I was going to say bubbly."

"Hm."

"Forget I said anything."

"No," you said, taking pity on the guy. "It's ok," you patted his shoulder, "You learn to deal with it, right? I mean, I think I am."

“How do you keep it from getting to you?” His question made you laugh, then your face fell, something serious behind your eyes.

“It gets to me. I’m so sad all the time. But if I always acted how I felt, I don’t think I could do it.”

"Right," he said, not quite convinced. "Look I've been with homicide for five months and I still don't think I'm there yet."

"Give up or give it more time then," you said to him with a raise of your newly cleaned French press and a shrug. As you walked back to your office (you had banned him from having meals in there in your first week on the job) he watched the way you occasionally raised yourself up on your toes, in awe at your apparent ability to stay sunny.

Someone else noticed your little rise and lower. Alex Cabot had, today, decided to leave the blinds to her office door open. It was so she could catch moments just like this one, you bopping along in the hallway with your coffee maker, somewhere between walking and dancing.

Fuck, she thought, not even bothering to stop the grin, that's so cute.

Alex had talked to Casey. Well, Casey brought it up, actually, but Alex would have.

---

"So, I talked to Rita," Casey'd said almost before she shut the door behind her.

"Good evening to you, too, baby," Alex said, greeting her in the entranceway, kissing her sweetly. Casey smiled into it. Casey broke the kiss and walked towards their living room, her body aching for a comfortable seat. Alex walked behind her, pinching her (lovely perfect gorgeous) ass, causing her wife to yelp in the silly way she reserved for Alex alone. Casey always flopped onto the couch, which had originally annoyed Alex. She'd once insisted Alex try it, and while she did not move to change her habits, she admitted to seeing the appeal.

Alex, having followed Casey to the couch, bypassed the ample seating and chose the same side as her wife, who was sitting against the arm rather than the back, providing a perfect avenue for Alex to make her way up her body, continuing what she'd started. When Casey moaned, Alex got up and walked to the kitchen, ignoring Casey's whines. Alex picked up the plates where she'd put dinner (ok, it was carryout, but still, plates!) and joined Casey, another habit that was Casey's first, this one she was happy to go along with.

Casey and Alex sat on the floor, playing quiet music and making their usual conversation, routine and comforting.

"So, you talked to Rita?"

"Mm, mmhmm," Casey said, Alex having caught her mid-asparagus-bite. They laughed. "Yeah, I talked to Rita. She almost broke my door down to ask if I was sleeping with Caroline.”

Alex paled, “I was just talking to Serena about the same thing.”A panicked look flashed across Casey’s eyes. “Oh god, no, I don’t think you’re cheating on me. I mean, I went to Serena’s to be all emotional about Caroline.”

“I nearly cried.”

“In front of Rita Calhoun? And she didn’t melt?”

Casey scoffed, “She’s made me cry so many times.”

“I try to forget that fact,” Alex said.

“Fair enough. Anyway, apparently, her prowess in deductive reasoning led her to believe that I was having an affair.”

“A one-sided affair, that’s new.”

“Two-sided, unless both of us are only one side.”

“Two-sided implies there’s something there.”

“Isn’t there?”

“Isn’t that it.”

“Yeah.”

They both picked at their salads, wondering why Alex had bought salad. Casey looked up at the ceiling, Alex looked down, fiddled with the rug. Alex skipped a couple songs on her phone.

“Casey, what are we going to do about this. I don’t, I mean, I think, um.”

“I don’t know. I guess, our options are, pursue what we want or don’t and get over it.”

“If you put it that way,” Alex said, pausing, “I think we need to know what we want.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you. I want us both to be really happy, and I want her.”

Casey took a sip of her wine, agreeing with her fingertips, taking Alex’s hand. “You said what I was thinking.”

“What do you want, though? Serena said this thing about me being upset over a threesome we haven’t had and I kind of thought like, I don’t think I just want sex, um. I don’t know if that’s how you feel.”

“I do feel that way, actually, Lex.”

Casey held their hands up to her cheek, kissed Alex’s.

“So we’re pursuing that?”

“So we’re pursuing that.”

“What if,” Alex started. Casey responded with a shrug, and Alex thoughtfully nodded.

---

So, they were pursuing it. What that was going to mean was unclear as of the moment Alex saw you being very cute in the hallway, but they’d agreed that they wanted some kind of relationship, romantic, sexual. They wouldn’t want it if you only wanted one of them, they wouldn’t want just sex. It all would work out, Alex hoped. Casey was more confident than she was, but Alex had more of a cautious spirit when it came to relationships. They were well balanced. Alex hoped (and hoped and hoped) that you would want them. She gave herself a few more moments to smile, then turned back to her work.

Despite Anderson’s impressions and what Alex saw, you were not, in fact, feeling good. It was the middle of summer, but you couldn’t get warm. It’s just a cold, you thought, as you held your hands against the warmth of the coffee. Your cases were getting overwhelming, and you couldn’t afford to take any time off right now, not even to be sick in bed. Getting sick in the summer was exactly your luck.

A knock on your door startled you. You quickly collected your composure, turned on your peppy demeanor (you told the truth to Anderson: you learned how to seem OK a long time ago).

“Hey,” Casey said. “Are you in court at all today?”

You shook your head. “No, just paperwork, research. Why?”

Casey shrugged. “Thought you might want to have lunch or something.”

“I ate already,” you lied. You just didn’t want to request a place that served chicken soup. Your appetite had disappeared. “Sorry,” you said with an apologetic smile. “You want some coffee?” you asked, gesturing to the full pot.

“Sure, actually. The setup is a smart idea.”

“Isn’t it?” you said, getting up to pour two cups. “My apologies for the lack of sugar and cream.”

“Ah, it’s ok.” Casey said, accepting the cup and sitting down across from you in the extra chair. “No honey?”

“Alex told you,” You said, smiling, and Casey nodded. “It’s more of a special occasion thing.”

You watched her blow on the drink, her lips pursed over the top of it. They were a lovely shade of pink, you decided. She stuck her tongue out a bit when she took a sip, like a butterfly and its proboscis, you thought. You promptly scolded yourself for thinking that sort of thing at work. You had been considering Ramin’s advice, to “use your feminine wiles” on Casey and Alex, make them want you so bad that they believed it was their idea. It was sneaky and exciting. You’d resolved to start doing tiny, almost unnoticeable things around them (however convincing they could be when congested). Before you sat, you brushed your hand along your hip; as you held your mug, you ran your fingers along the handle.

“How’s your day going?” you asked her, knowing she’d had lots of tough cases recently. SVU had brought you on as a junior ADA because with the rising awareness of sexually-based crimes (a good inconvenience), the caseloads had risen to an all-time height, even after they brought Gillian back in to cover some cases. They were both very relieved that the gamble the office had taken in hiring a young person, whose experience had mostly been in property crimes, had worked out. It stood to reason, Casey had pushed for a younger lawyer, knowing first hand how much of a strength that could be; and when Alex had seen two Stanford degrees on your C.V., she felt sure too. You’d been a good choice. Still, you were all four overextended.

“Eh, it’s been fine, all things considered,” Casey replied. She watched as you fiddled with the tips of your hair. You’d begun wearing it curly more often, which had proven to be somewhat distracting for her. “How good can any day be in this line of work.”

You agreed with a nod. “I was just talking to Anderson about that.”

“What did he have to say?” Casey asked, knowing the attorney’s propensity for putting his foot in his mouth.

“I feel for the guy. I think he’s having trouble in homicide. He called me bubbly.”

“You are bubbly.”

“I’m energetic.”

“He should transfer to white collar. He’s got the attitude for it.”

You squinted your eyes scoldingly. “You would know.”

“I would.” The two of you broke into much-needed laughter. You were about halfway through your cup, but wished you were at the beginning again. “Was it hard?” you asked, “moving from white collar to sex crimes? I mean, just the level of emotional complication required, it must be so different from all that, detail.”

“It’s the hardest thing I think I’ll ever do in my professional life, yes.” Casey always looked you right in the eye, it was intense, the way she never averted her gaze. You tended to shift your gaze around rooms, taking in details, never resting on anything for too long. People sometimes wondered if you were paying attention, and explaining that looking them in the eye made it harder to listen didn’t work. Casey never cared, or at the very least never brought it up, just let you be the way you were. She set her coffee cup down. “I cried in my office my first day, in front of Olivia. I practically begged Arthur Branch to reassign me. I had wanted homicide, major cases. You know, all the glory less of the gore.”

“Have you ever regretted it since?”

“Never long enough to think about leaving. Voluntarily, that is,” she stated with a smile, referencing her suspension. You didn’t know all that much about what had happened, and you let her talk with a warm and open demeanor. “In all honesty, I needed that suspension to rewire my brain, I was drowning. And it didn’t last as long as I thought it would. That’s actually when I got together with Alex,” she said, smiling again, wider this time. “In a stupid hipster bar. She had brown hair at the time, I almost didn’t recognize her.”

“Please tell me you have pictures of brunette Alex Cabot.”

“Oh, I do, but they’re all buried deep in different camera rolls…” she trailed off in memories, “I’ll find them for you when I need to embarrass her. I, for one, liked the brown, but she can be very self-conscious.”

“You wouldn’t guess that when you meet her.”

“No, you really wouldn’t. But, Caroline,” Casey said, and hearing your name out of her mouth never failed to give you butterflies, “truly, I don’t think ‘like’ is an appropriate word for what I, what we do, but I feel called to it.”

“I think I do too.”

“Retention rates in this field are low. You’ve already outlasted them. I think that’s proof enough.”

You finished your coffee and brought your mug to the little table where you kept it. How you had such a messy desk but such a tidy coffee space evaded Casey, and probably told her more about you than you’d like. Alex walked by your office coming back from a meeting, pleased to see you and Casey conversing in the junior office. Casey finished her coffee shortly after you did. She met Alex in the hallway.

---

“Counselor, do you need a tissue?” Judge Catano said to you in an irritated tone in chambers the next day, apparently after one sniffle too many.

“Or a nap,” John Buchanan added under his breath as you pulled a nearly empty packet out of your suit pocket and wiped your nose.

“Thank you for your concern, I assure you both that I am quite alright.”

---

“Go home, get some sleep. Your cases will be there in the morning.” Alex said the evening after that, passing by the open door to your office on her way out.

“I won’t stay long,” you replied, knowing full-well that you would.

---

The day after that, Anderson got in your way at the wrong time and found himself unfortunately sneezed on.

---

You made it to Friday, and despite what you were telling yourself, you kept getting sicker. Every day was like time couldn’t decide between speeding and slowing down. Sometimes, you’d look up from what felt like ten minutes of work and an hour had passed, sometimes a meeting that felt like an hour was only ten minutes. And you still had work to do. Casey tapped on the door, unsurprised, again, to find you were the only one there. Anderson had left about a half hour ago, the other juniors often left right at 5:00.

“Hey,” she called from the doorway.

“Yeah?” You replied, looking at her over the top of your laptop.

“Come work in my office?” She asked. You’d taken to working with her or Alex or both of them in the evenings, with the general idea that many heads make light work. Or something. Really, for you, it was just a good excuse to spend time together.

“Sure,” you replied, “meet you there.” She walked off as you packed up your things. You were a bit woozy as you stood up from your desk. Oh well, that was how it went. You made yourself comfortable in Casey’s office (Alex, she explained, was off picking up some documents at the precinct).

You shivered in your seat on the couch, you blew your nose Casey eyed you, having noticed how you’d been sniffling all week. “Allergies? I have some Zyrtec somewhere in this desk,” she said, opening her drawer up to look.

“Oh, no, I’m not allergic to anything, I just didn’t,” sniff, “sleep well last night.”

This was an attitude Casey knew well.

---

Alex always liked summer evenings in the city. Yes, the smell required some getting used to, it could get noisy and crowded, but something about the way the orange light (that lasted longer than any other time of year) played off the tall buildings, the metal vendors on the sidewalk-- it just got to her, made her enjoy the walks she took from place to place. She checked her notifications on the way back from the precinct.

Casey: Caroline is sitting in my office sniffling and looking pale.

Alex: “Allergies?”

Casey: She denies them.

Alex: So the cold she’s had all week caught up to her?

Casey: Can you pick up some meds and we can make her go home?

Alex: I mean, good luck to us…

Casey: Alex.

Alex sighed and crossed the street, ducking into a Duane Reed for the requisite illness package. convincing you to take advantage of it was going to be a wholly different task.

When she arrived back at the office, she discovered a different scene than she expected. As she reached Casey’s office door with the supplies, her wife caught her eye through the window, motioning at her to be quiet when she came in. Alex was, and saw you, on Casey’s couch, deeply asleep with your fingers still on your laptop keyboard, typing endless spaces in a Word document.

“Well,” Alex whispered, coming to Casey’s side, leaning against her desk. “That’s certainly adorable.”

“I couldn’t bring myself to wake her up,” Casey said, “poor thing.” Alex looked at you, your curls flipped up over your forehead, your pink cheeks, your pile of work beside you. A warm sense of nostalgia lit up inside her.

“Remember, when we first came back to the DA’s office,” Alex said, seeing Casey smile playfully, the same feelings building in her chest.

“And there was a horrible bug going around the office,” Casey continued, telling the story for her wife.

“And I refused to admit I’d gotten it,”

“And I found you asleep, with your head on a legal pad,” Casey squeezed Alex’s hand.

“Because I was late to a meeting,” Alex tucked a strand of hair behind Casey’s ear.

“And when you lifted your head up, your forehead was covered in ink,” Casey finished the story with a grin, teasing her wife. “Yeah, I remember that. And I remember trying and failing to get you home, and I remember you getting me sick.”

“Only because you couldn’t keep yourself from kissing me,” Alex said. Casey just shrugged, acknowledging that her wife was correct. They had no need to say what they both were thinking, and, in fact, no time.

You stirred, stretching out, very sleepily. They snapped out of their reverie. “Hey, you two,” you said, your voice nasal. “You guys are so cute,” you continued, still not quite awake, you said what was on your mind. You felt a bit voyeuristic, but you didn’t mind. “Sorry for eavesdropping,” you said, waking up more fully, “sorry I fell asleep, Casey,” you said. You started to pull the notes you were looking at back up to your lap, but as you picked them up, you noticed someone else was holding the other end. Alex had a grip on them, and you were too weak to resist as she picked up all your papers and put them back in your bag.

“Laptop,” she said, holding out her hand. You gave it to her, looking to the side, embarrassed. She held out a packet containing two pills. “Take these,” she said, giving you a bottle of water as well. You wanted to protest, tell her that you were perfectly capable of getting what you had left done, but as you looked at her, then across the room to Casey, you realized that not only would any attempt be futile, you wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in your bed and stay there until you didn’t feel like this anymore. You nodded.

Casey’s voice came from behind Alex, gentle. Still raspy, but more than quiet, sympathetic, understanding-- gentle, a tone meant to be heard from close by and listened to in earnest. “Please take care of yourself.”

Who could refuse that?

---

Alex accompanied you on the cab ride home. Casey genuinely had work she had to finish, and neither of them was about to let you ride your bike or take the subway in your state. You lived in Brooklyn, but close enough to the courthouse that you didn’t feel too guilty about accepting her help when she offered. You tried to make conversation, but you were simply too tired to talk much, and as the sun finished setting, you arrived at the townhouse. Ashley and Ramin lived in the three bedroom unit on the first floor while you lived in the one bedroom unit on the second. It was really a glorified studio, the bedroom was just big enough for a queen-sized bed, the living room barely fit a couch, and the kitchen was mostly good for making tea; but that was why you had a key to your best friends’ apartment. You hesitated on the steps in the still warm air, considering if it would be a bad idea to ask Alex to come up the rest of the way with you, but she had clearly already made up her mind to do so (she had not bought all those supplies for nothing).

Your apartment was cozy, Alex thought as she placed the medicines and magazines and bottles of Gatorade in convenient spots in your tiny kitchen. You went straight for the bathroom, using what energy you had to change into pajamas, brush your teeth, and wash your face. Not much food in the fridge, lots of coffee and tea. A little table covered in papers and books; some law journals, some fantasy novels, some picture books. There were stuffed animals in a bin beside the couch, a couple clearly old enough to be yours. You had one of the fluffiest rugs she’d ever seen and enough throw pillows to drown in, and candles all over the place. Your walls were covered in art; some clearly original abstract pieces signed R.R, some prints from the MoMA, old post cards and family photos (only a couple of your siblings, but countless of Ashley and his family, dancers too), and kids’ drawings, all displayed together, given equal weight. It made no sense aesthetically, technically, but everything about the place screamed Caroline, so she found herself enamored with it.

You emerged from the bathroom with your hair tied on top of your head, wearing an oversized tee and fuzzy pants. It wasn’t your usual choice, but being sick had you feeling like everything around you needed to be soft and cuddly. Alex showed you where she placed everything she’d bought for you, but as she talked, your (maybe feverish) focus could only follow her beautiful blue eyes as they followed your own. You felt warmth, gratitude; you watched her seem concerned and adoring all at once. This whole scenario; Alex in your apartment while the stars were out, taking care of you, seeing you in your pajamas, sniffling and blushing, it made no sense when you thought about it. Yet, it seemed perfectly natural to you, having her in your place. Part of you wanted to kiss her then and there, pull her into your bed and try to get her to cuddle, but, of course, those were not thoughts you shared out loud. Instead, you expressed your gratitude as emphatically as your could manage.

“Get some sleep, Caroline.”

“I will. Alex, thank you.”

---

Alex made you take the following Monday and Tuesday off. Since she didn’t technically have that ability, you responded to her texts by telling her as much. Then, she got Jack McCoy to email you the same sentiments, and that, you couldn’t fight. You arrived at work on Wednesday refreshed, well-rested, and decidedly not sniffly, and she was only a little bit smug. She all but said “I told you so” when you said hello that morning-- but you very quickly shut her up by giving her a smile and an eye roll, taking pride and pleasure in the tiny bite of her lip you saw flash by as you returned to your desk.

That afternoon, you were happy to run into Serena Southerlyn on the courthouse steps, her leaving as you and Alex were returning (there was a case you were working together, you as second chair). She greeted Alex with a professional hug, you with a warm handshake. She had a glint in her eyes, something mischievous about her when she asked, after the usual workplace pleasantries, “you’ll both be there tomorrow, right? For drinks? Gillian said she had something to celebrate, I bet she got accepted to one of those PhD programs.”

“Casey and I will be,” Alex said, looking to you. You tucked a curl behind your ear, another habit of yours she’d noticed, when you were worried.

“I’ll certainly try,” you said, happy that you were now getting regular invitations to drinks, “I promised I’d help Ophélie’s mock trial team prepare for this weekend, she gets pretty nervous about them.”

“They have mock trial that young?” Serena asked.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cute too. A bunch of 12-year-olds in suits using legal language.” As you spoke, Alex understood a little better, Casey’s perspective on children. She chuckled lightly.

“Is she the prosecution or the defense?” asked Alex. You groaned in response.

“Don’t remind me. She chose defense specifically to spite me, and now I go to her school twice a month to teach her how to do it.”

“I think I like this kid,” Serena said. “But I really hope you can make it tomorrow.”

“I’ll do what I can,” you said, knowing you would likely be able to go, but not wanting to promise anything.

“Good,” Serena said as she started walking down the steps again. She turned around when she was struck with an idea. Alex had told her about her and Casey’s ideas, but, frankly, she felt like they were not moving fast enough, and having known them both for years, knew how they needed a push sometimes to go for what they wanted. You and Alex had only gone a few steps, so you didn’t miss the swoosh of blonde hair coming back towards you.

“I remembered,” Serena said, “ I was going to ask you, Caroline, are you going to any salsa nights again soon?” You looked taken aback as she clarified, “I’ve wanted to pick it back up for a little while. I was going to ask last time but the conversation moved too fast.”

“You dance salsa?” Alex asked, blindsided. Serena nodded, an implied obviously in her expression. “When did you learn?” She asked again, knowing that Serena’s upbringing had been astonishingly similar to hers as far as old money and conservative attitudes went.

“Study abroad.”

You let it be quiet for a short moment, seeing Alex and Serena communicate with looks, something panicked in Alex’s and something scheming in Serena’s. You filed the moment away to think about later.

“Yes, actually, I think I’m going to one on Saturday, in Brooklyn as usual,” you said, testing the waters of their reactions. “Ashley’s still on tour so I was going to see if one of my old teammates would want to go with me,” you said. Alex squinted her eyes slightly, Serena knit her fingers together as you spoke. “But if you would like to, Serena,” you decided to just go for the invite, “we should go together.”

You thought you saw a flicker of jealousy from Alex when Serena enthusiastically accepted your invitation. You couldn’t be quite sure, but it was enough hope to leave another little piece of you burning.

---

@addictedtodinosaurs @nocreditinthestraightworld @sweetprentiss

remindr to sign up for my tagłist if you vvant to be tagged in these! (some of my keys are broken)

#svu #svu fanfic #law and order svu fanfic #alex cabot #casey novak #serena southerlyn #rita calhoun #casey novak x reader #alex cabot x reader #alex cabot x casey novak x reader #ofc #schemes!!!!#matchmaking #calex #calex x reader #please rb and 1ike

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blissfulparker · 4 years

Text

Seasick pt.8→p.p

Parings: college!peter parker x reader

Summary: when you give one lie to your mom that you have a boyfriend, she ends up buying an extra ticket for a cruise you guys are going on. Now you’re stuck looking for a fake boyfriend and eventually drag peter in. Except you and peter both like each other and don’t know how long you can last pretending.

Warnings: fluff, small angst at the end

A/n: wow! Sorry this took so long for me to update! The last two weeks I really hadn’t had much time for anything except answering asks and a few blurbs but I finally found some time and energy to stay up and edit this next part for you guys. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

When you told him you wanted to go to the beach, he didn't think you meant to hike down to a beach. Away from tourism, away from the shops and restaurants. There were more local people and as Peter was scared of something happening, getting lost, you getting kidnapped, your parents looking for you. You, you were calm and content.

“Where even are we going?” he asked and you turned around.

“There's this beach I used to hike down to when I was fourteen. well, i started when i was fourteen. It's kinda my secret spot as a tourist you know? The locals know about it...you'll see.” you tell him with a smirk and he follows you down a steep hill. His face trying not to go red as he followed you down such a steep path.

“You've been doing this since you were fourteen?” he asks and you nod. It would make sense, make sense why you would just randomly disappear for two weeks of the summer and come back perfectly normal.

“Yup. all those weeks in summer where i was just gone. I was here.” you tell him. His eyes widen before you step down into a beach. It was beautiful, empty of tourists but plenty of locals and kids running around, families laying out and enjoying themselves. It was beyond beautiful.

“So your family goes on a cruise every year?” he asks in shock.

“Yeah, it's like their one excuse to get together and make everything look good. It's a façade peter. All a fake.” you roll out a towel as you slide your shorts off, you are just in a lavender purple bikini. He loved red on you because of him, it was his signature color. But lavender fit you, it was your color.

“Peter.” you snapped him out of his thoughts and he jumped a little as he came back into reality. “Can you get my back?” you ask, handing him the sun screen. He nods as he takes some into his hands and massages it into your back.

“Do you wanna talk about last night now?” he asks. He knows it is healthy for you to talk. how it's pent up and you'll just have to deal with it again and again each year. Maybe you told MJ and he didn’t know. But he truly believed you just needed someone to listen.

“No, now i wanna swim.” you shrug getting up and walking into the water, waves crashing against your body. He hates how difficult you're being but his only option is to chase after you. You’re making him chase after you.

“(y/n)!” he swims and you jump on his shoulders. It's almost quiet as the only thing he can hear is the waves crashing into the land and the wind brushing into the trees.

“This is really pretty.” his body floats as he looks around. Far out in the sea he can see that there is a boat, he sees trees from a clif and a group of people jumping into the water. It’s like a fantasy.

“Yeah i know.” you share the same smile as you hold onto his shoulders for balance. He allows it, he doesn’t even realize it. If anyone were to tell you guys you were a couple he would believe it.

“I don't want to push it, not more than I already have. but what is the whole point of me being here? After last night i just...you told me they want to be perfect. That you want to be perfect. So you need a boyfriend to be perfect?.” he says. You look down, the water is a little cloudy but you can see your feet just fine.

“I guess I just wanted to be like them, show them I too can be the cute new york girl that has her life together. I thought I never cared about their approval but sometimes I see happy families leave a movie theaters or a restaurant and think if I just try a little harder, if I just do something right I can be just as happy as them. So when my mom called and it just slipped I had a boyfriend she was so excited for me, i thought maybe that was the key.” you shrug, it stung at the bottom of your heart. It did. Though you didn’t show it, you didn’t know, peter could hear the sound of your heartbeat ache.

“I mean, I think you're perfect.” he starts and you laugh a little trying to swim away.

“Shut up, I thought I told you i don't need pity.” you truly didn’t want to hear it. Especially not from him.

“No, I do. I mean, you are incredibly smart, you get along with everyone no matter who they are you can get along with them, you can pull off just about any outfit and you always look so pretty even after studying for hours. you always put others before yourself and just the other day i found out you're incredibly talented with painting. You always get things done on time and make time for everything and you make it look effortless. In my book that's pretty much the definition of perfect.” he rambles a little bit to you.

You stop and face him. Eyes wide and breath in your throat. He payed this much attention to you, you never noticed.

“What?” you asked and he shrugs. Maybe this was the climax moment Ned bragged to him about. He'll get a lover's high and it will feel like a movie.

“I mean, sure sometimes you don't knock and i think you need to work on that but-” he starts to try and take back some of the things, he doesn’t want to sound like a creep or an over analyzer. Doesn’t want to accidentally make you insecure when the whole point of this was to—

“Peter?” he stops talking. Your chest touches his and he grows red a little but luckily it just looks like the sun just hit his face.

“Y-yeah?” he looks up and you touch a wet curl.

“Do you want to know the real reason I wanted to transfer?” oh no. he thinks.

“Why?” he swallows hard not knowing how much longer he can take having your chest pressed against his in the bathing suit he didn't realize till now was so thin.

“Because you were dating that one girl Gwen.” you tell him and he cocks his head.

“I was so excited to go to Columbia with everyone. I had the biggest crush on you all four years and I thought maybe, just maybe this could be my chance with you. Then first semester you started dating her and she was the polar opposite of me and I just felt so lost. I never felt anything like I did for you. I was so in love with you it hurt me so much. So i just wanted to go, i thought maybe i should start over.” you play with the strap of the suit before laughing a little. “I then realized it was a stupid idea to transfer for a boy so i changed my mind and stayed. No one knew about it except for my family.” you tell him. His arms go around your waist without even realizing.

“D-Did MJ even know?” He asks. You told that girl everything. He knew how close you two were after finding it strange you two were comfortable with showering with one another.

“No.” You feel the water and the waves slosh around you. “Not even MJ knew.”

Your next move felt like the lovers high ned was talking about. Your lips slowly come in and meet his. His lips carefully move against yours and his hands explore your back to bring you in closer.

It almost felt like you’ve done this before. That you two have kissed like this before but you haven’t. Lovers high. He thinks.

His curls tickle your forehead and his lips pull away from yours. You rest your forehead against his and he notices how beautiful you are after he kisses you. He thinks to himself how he wants to get use to this.

“Real or fake?” he says in a whisper barely audible enough for you to hear, covered by the sounds of the waves and birds. You laugh an airy laugh before saying,

“Real.” and like that his lips are back on yours, he lifts you up a little and allows your legs to wrap around his waist. Your hands rest on his cheeks as for the first time, he knew this trip was completely worth it.

“You sunburn really easily.” you rub aloe on his back as you two eat from the bag of pretzels you brought.

Now laying back on the beach the sun is at its peak. Children run past as you and peter catch a break for yourselves.

“It's not my fault I'm pale and from New York where it's always raining and dark.” he says back with pretzels in your mouth.

“You can at least wear sunscreen.” you tease kissing his shoulder softly before going into the bag to grab your sunglasses and book.

“I do,” he reminds you before looking over to see two girls around the age of seven and eight laughing and looking at the two of you. “Why are they laughing at us?” he asks slightly insecure. You're already comfortable on your back with your book.

“Because were American.” you tell him and he looks at you knowing you’re lying. “I'm kidding, they think you're cute.” the little girls that were once sitting and laughing, now walked over with something in their hands.

“They’re walking to us.” he panics a bit to you but you're too invested in your book to care.

Still giggling they hand him a beaded and braided bracelet and hand you one too. Both a mixture of colors. You smile at them with a thank you, handing them a five dollar bill as a thank you.

“I thought they just thought i was cute.” he has a cocky smile as he puts the bracelet on.

“Oh get over yourself. They thought we were both cute. I've seen them do it to couples for years. Not the same kids of course, its a mixture of kids. I guess it’s kinda their thing here.” you tell him laying back down as if what you said was nothing.

“Couples?” he asks and roll your eyes.

“Yes, peter, couples.” you chuckle to him and he lays down on the towel to feel the sun against his skin.

He didn't really like the word couple. It made him feel old. He did like the term ‘boyfriend and girlfriend’ that makes him think of walking hand in hand into study dates, bringing coffee to one another, rubbing each others backs when you are stressed. He loves the sound of that.

“Your sister came by this morning, Maya.” hes relaxed and maybe a little too relaxed. you now sit on your elbows.

“What did she say?” you ask him and his eyes open in a squint as he speaks.

“She said Arden said she's sorry and your mom wanted you for lunch but i said we were busy.” he tells you and you fall back on the towel thinking if you'll be in trouble for not ditching your mom. On a normal trip you would, but now you had Peter and were getting away with a lot. A little bit too much.

“Oh.” was all you said. You didn’t want to ruin what you just started. “I'm getting hungry? Want to go back?” you ask and he sees you're uncomfortable. Was it something he did? Was it something he said? Were you feeling like all this was a mistake?

“Oh, um, yeah,” he gets up and helps you put stuff back into your bag before taking your hand into his. His hand only there for seconds before you take it away. He can tell you're upset but this time he doesn’t know what. if it was him or your sister or your own thoughts that held you back. He thought he was having a good day, you guys were having the best day on this whole trip but it seems your mind changed.

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teamhappyme · 3 years

Text

to care for you

rafael barba x female!reader

referenced cases from S17E04 and S17E16

word count: 4k

a/n: this is my first fic that I’m letting the world see and I’m... terrified. i hope whoever reads this gets some joy out of it. shoutout to @qvid-pro-qvo and @hurricanejjareau , y’all got me roped into loving the SVU boys, and this would not have been created if I hadn’t found your blogs. big inspiration over here. alright, here we go friends.

****

“Well you’re going, right?”

“I haven’t decided.” “Haven’t decided? It’s Liv and Noah, Barba. A christening for the cutest little boy and the most deserving mother. They’ve been through hell this year, they deserve our support. Besides, you’re a devout Catholic, you should be all in for this.”

“First of all, he’s getting christened in a Unitarian church. Second, I wouldn’t exactly use the term devout. The last time I went to church was with you and Carisi after that trafficking case last year.” He said while grabbing another slice of pizza. In your three years since joining the SVU this was the first time you saw Rafael Barba eat a slice of pizza.

“Careful. You might get some grease on that thousand dollar suit, Counselor.” He glared at you before taking a bite. “If you’re worried about the priest smelling your absence out, Carisi and I have enough devotion to pass on to you.”

“I don’t want any of Carisi’s Catholic guilt.” “You need me to take your confession?” You asked with a smirk.

There weren’t many people that could get away with pushing Barba’s buttons without getting chewed out by the ADA in his next breath. And when you first started out with the squad, there were many occasions where you and Barba had some heated arguments.

Getting transferred to SVU was an overwhelming experience. You were thrown into the understaffed department right along with Carisi, so the two of you had to step up pretty quick for the unit. There was no adjustment period, trust wasn’t built, it was forced upon the squad. It took about two months for you to really trust the other detectives, but once you did, the unit got into a groove. Cases were being solved left and right and you started to understand the routine of the SVU.

Until you had to testify. It was six months in, and it was your first testimony with the unit. It was also the first rape case you worked with minor victims. There were four fifteen year old girls accusing their history teacher of rape, two of which disclosed to you.

You prepped with Barba for an hour the night before, making sure you knew the case inside and out. You felt confident in your answers, and were ready to take the stand. Until the following morning. On your walk down to the courtroom with him, you rushed into the ladies room to vomit up your coffee and your anxiety. Public speaking was never one of your strong suits, and Barba had cautioned you to be prepared for Buchanon’s toxic cross examination.

As you washed your hands and cleared your face, Rafael stayed outside the door, even deterring a woman from coming in. Once you exited, he was waiting at the side, pulling a granola bar and stick of gum out of his blazer pocket. You took the food, as he gave you a nod and waited for your okay to continue the walk down to the courtroom. A slight nod of your own and weak smile got his feet moving again.

That trial was the first olive branch extended between you and Rafael. He wasn’t one to offer warm greetings, and since you were often glued to Carisi’s hip, it was hard for him to separate you from the enthusiastic detective. There were passive aggressive comments relayed back and forth while trying to indict a perp, and long nights spent deliberating probable cause at the round table. But it wasn’t until you accompanied Liv to One Hogan Place, in a particularly bad mood when you sassed the ADA back after he made a comment about your witnesses being incredibly unreliable, not having time for the shenanigans.

After that moment, Rafael knew that he could trust you. The passive aggressive comments yielded, but the sass continued. The repertoire the two of you were slowly building drew quite the audience, Carisi and Rollins almost always feeding the fire with more topics to discuss.

About a year into your tenure here, you started to check in on Barba. The first time you stopped by was originally a business call. Liv needed a warrant asap, already staking out the apartment of a suspect. You rushed over to the courthouse, trying to find any ADA’s secretary when you saw Barba still in his office at midnight. According to Carmen, he rarely went home before 9:00. After that night, you made it a habit to check in on him at least once a week. The DA’s office was a cutthroat environment, and Barba’s office was an even lonelier place.

Thursday nights were penciled in for your unofficial drop ins, almost through the week but still burning the midnight oil. You would show up around 10:00 with pizza for you, and sushi for his expensive taste every time, knowing neither one of you had time to eat dinner yet. Most of the time, the two of you would work on your respective cases, sometimes sharing notes if the work overlapped. But if it was a slow week, sometimes the two of you would just, talk. It was nice to be able to talk to someone who understood the demanding nature of the job. Your family in particular couldn’t understand why you loved this career so much, but your squad could. It was reassuring to have their support.

“Alright, enough with the holier than thou attitude, Detective. I actually wanted to talk to you about the case.” Sitting up a little straighter in your chair, you wiped your hands on a napkin as he pulled out a manila folder. “I’ve been encouraged by the D.A. to drop the charges against Bobby D’Amico and Noel Panko.”

“What?” “And I have a motions hearing scheduled for Friday morning to dismiss the charges.”

After everything the squad had done for this case, what you saw Amanda put herself through. It was all for nothing.

“Barba, you can’t be serious. We have three victims, two willing to testify. We have footage of them attempting to rape Rollins for crying out loud.”

“Kristi Cryer has changed her story too many times. She was raped, then it was consensual, it was Panko, it was Panko and D’Amico. A jury will never believe her story.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “The jury won’t believe her or you won’t?”

“Hey, you know this isn’t about what I think. This isn’t a case we can win. We have to look at the optics.”

“The optics,” you muttered as you stood up from your seat. “Multiple women were raped by two well-known men in New York society, and the D.A. doesn’t want to make any enemies, right?”

“You’re taking this worse than Liv did.” You scoffed. “Am I? Good. Because for the rest of their lives, those girls will have to live with the fact that their rapists are still out there. Not to mention their reputations will be ruined. People are going to call them liars, and whores. Their lives are never going to be the same. All because you won’t stand up to the D.A. and do what’s right?”

Rafael stood up now, his loosened tie swinging from the sudden movement. “If this goes to trial, it will not go our way.”

“What about when you went after DCFS? You went after Musio, Grayson, Sheridan,”

“That was different,” “Why because it was Liv?”

“Because the department was a mess, and there were months worth of evidence of neglect and backdating reports. You were there, and if I remember correctly you were fighting alongside Liv to get me to prosecute.”

You ran your fingers through your hair, not willing to accept that this case was over. “These girls deserve justice, Barba. You were there when Panko went off at Dodds, he knows he’s done.”

“I want these guys just as bad as you do, Y/n. But we do not have the evidence. It’s a he said she said case, with one other accusation from a year ago without a rape kit. Not to mention Rollins went undercover without notifying a superior, tainting the whole investigation. We will make a fool out of ourselves and lose this case in court.”

“And it’s all about winning for the D.A.’s office, isn’t it. Can’t do anything out of the kindness of your hearts, can you?” You knew you crossed the line as you saw Rafael’s shoulder’s drop the slightest bit, his jaw clenched in place.

“Maybe if you passed the Bar instead of failing three times you could understand why we can’t pursue this. We can’t bring a case to trial based on our emotions. This isn’t your tissue loaded desks, this is a courthouse.”

You broke the tense eye contact you were holding after his statement. Insulting your academic failures and empathetic tendencies in one foul swoop. That was a low blow, even for the counselor.

Rafael knew his words pierced you. He pushed his chair back and let out a breath, getting ready to back track. But you beat him to the punch.

“You know, my capability of empathizing with victims is the reason why you’ve put so many rapists away. If they had to speak to you, there would be no cases for you to even prosecute.”

This wasn’t a normal spout between the two of you. Things rarely got personal, and if they did, they were never this spiteful.

“Then I guess there’s a reason I’m prosecuting in front of the judge and jury and you’re dealing with the victims.”

You scoffed at his final statement. You knew he was cocky, but you didn’t think he would use your insecurities or shortcomings against you. Especially not the fact that you failed the Bar Exam three times, which was only disclosed to him once Carisi opened his big mouth.

Covering your head with your beanie, you made your way to the door before either one of you could do more damage. You fought the urge to apologize, knowing you would need space before you could think of a response.

“Have a good night, Counselor.”

****

“Oh my goodness, Benjamin! Look at that tower you made with Maura! Did you show Luke?” “No. Mama saw it!” You smiled at the two year old through the phone, his own grin lighting up the room even over facetime. “Benjamin, is mama there? Y/n/n wants to talk to her for a minute.”

“I can bring you to her!” Maura took the phone out of the toddler’s hands, but you quickly protested so you could say goodbye to your godson. “Bye Benny, I love you buddy.” He blew you a kiss and you caught it as your little cousin brought you across the room.

“Auntie Leah! Y/n/n wants to talk to you.” She handed the phone over while settling in next to her aunt. You saw your older cousin’s calming face, and couldn’t help the tears in your eyes.

“I haven’t even said anything and you're already crying,” You let out a laugh and took a sip of water. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“Y/n, are you at the precinct? It’s 8:00 your time on thanksgiving, what are you doing there?”

“There was some work I needed to get done. If I can’t be with you guys, I can at least get a head start so I can come home for Christmas.” The squadroom was empty now, but it had only been filled by the desk sergeant and a couple uni’s until five. You’d been here since noon, not succeeding in spending the holiday alone in your apartment. “Besides, I’ve been able to ignore all of my mother’s phone calls with the ‘I’m working’ excuse. Has she called you guys yet?”

“Just mom once. You know she doesn’t mean it to hurt you, she just wishes you could spend time with family for the holidays.” “I know.”

Your family meant the world to you, and having missed the last two years of holidays was hard on you. Sure, you saw them eventually, but Christmas and Thanksgiving weren’t the same alone.

“Since I’ve already started Christmas shopping, is there anything Benjamin needs or wants from his godmother?” “He has requested, and I quote, ‘y/n/n’s nummy cookies’.” The smile that spread across your face was so big it almost hurt. That baby boy was probably your favorite person on the planet, besides your own nieces and nephews. “Alright well hopefully he can help Y/n/n make those nummy cookies in a few weeks. If not, I’ll send a box out, along with an amazing present.”

“What about me?” Maura asked, and you just shook your head. “Hey, I’m not made out of money here girlfriend.” She laughed at that.

“Have you at least eaten anything today?” Leah asked, trying to steer the conversation into a more meaningful direction. She could read you so easily. “Yes, I have. I’m not going to be here much longer, so I’ll grab something for dinner on my way home.”

“Y/n/n,” The eight year old interrupted again, and you couldn’t help the smile that etched across your face as you rolled your eyes at the silly nickname.

“Yes, Maura.”

“There’s a fancy man walking towards you.”

You turned your head and saw Barba walking through the squadroom. “I gotta go, Leah.”

“Is everything okay?”

He pulled over Carisi’s chair, raising a brow to make sure it was okay. You nodded.

“It’s okay. Just a colleague. I’ll talk to you later.” “Okay. We love you and miss you.” Tears pooled in your eyes again as Maura hopped on. “Love you Y/n/n!” A tear fell from your eye as you let out a laugh. “Love you too guys. Bye.”

You ended the call, quickly wiping your eyes now that you had an audience. It was only last night that you had your rather animated argument, and neither of you had reached out. Being stubborn was one of many traits the two of you shared.

“Can I help you, counselor?”

He held up a brown bag with a receipt stapled to the fold. “It’s thursday night. It’s usually you making trips to the office, but I figured I could take the field trip tonight.”

He opened up the bag, pulling out cartons of Chinese food. Your hand immediately reached for the fortune cookies, ripping the plastic wrapper off.

There was a lingering tension in the air, unresolved conflict, and hurt feelings, but it still felt okay. Mainly because the two of you knew you were both to blame.

“How did you know I was here?” You asked while grabbing the carton of lo mein. “I called Carisi. He said you were supposed to be in Minneapolis for the holiday, but got wrapped up in the case. Said he offered his family to you, but after hearing the commotion over the phone, I understand why you declined.”

“I didn’t decline because of their raucous personalities. I just wanted to get some work done.”

He digressed, retreating into his carton of fried rice. “What about you? Why aren’t you eating pie and decorating for Christmas with your lovely mother?”

“She volunteered this year. Since Abuelita died, she hasn’t been a big fan of holidays.” You nodded, knowing how hard it was for Rafael to grieve his abuelita last year.

“How has she been doing?”

He shrugged. “She has good days and bad days. She blames herself most of the time, but she has her school, and her kids to keep her upright.” “And you.” His eyes met yours for a brief second, the corners of his mouth turning up the slightest. He always wanted to do more for his family.

“Was that who you were on the phone with? Your family from Minneapolis?”

“Yeah. I was supposed to go out there for thanksgiving, but when we caught Kristi’s case, I cancelled. I thought,” You stopped, knowing any mention of the case would bring up last night’s conversation.

“We were going to trial.” He finished the sentence and you nodded.

If everything had gone according to plan, Panko and D’Amico would’ve been indicted this week and the trial would’ve begun the following week. You’d already started prepping Kristi with Rollins, making sure she knew her story backwards and forwards. But it was all for nothing it seems.

“Y/n, what I said last night,” You shook your head. “We both said things we didn’t mean. I started it, and was completely out of line.”

“You weren’t. You were fighting for Kristi, and your case. I just, I didn’t want to hear it.” He ran a hand through his hair, not perfectly quaffed like usual. “I shouldn’t have brought up the Bar. It was low, extremely low, and you didn’t deserve it. You and Carisi could take me out in court in a day. And if you ever tell him that, I’ll deny it until I die.” You laughed while taking an egg roll, crossing your finger over your heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

You let the apology sink in for a minute before starting your own. “I know you would’ve brought this to trial if we had enough evidence. I know that you care about the victims just as much as we do. I’m sorry that I said you didn’t.”

Poking around the container, he let out a scoff. “You weren’t that far off. I’m the D.A.’s puppet, letting him decide which cases I prosecute or not. We don’t have a lot of room for an emotional influence. I know how cold I can be with vics and witnesses.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t care.”

“Tell that to Kristi Cryer. She posted a vlog today, ripped me a new one for not believing her. Called the D.A.’s office, and I quote, ‘a bunch of spineless jellyfish.’ She’s not wrong. I mean,” He let out a humorless laugh. “I went to law school so I could help people. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself the last twenty years. But in reality, I’ve been climbing the bureaucratic totem pole, pushing myself further and further away from that kid in the Bronx.”

“You don’t seriously believe what Cryer said do you?” He shrugged, not meeting my eyes. You sighed, placing the carton on your desk, leaning over to rest your hand on his arm. “You are the Assistant District Attorney for the Sex Crimes division. People do not last here if they don’t care about the victims. I’ve seen you in court, in testimony prep, hell even in interrogation. You care about every single person that needs our help. Does it suck that the law is not the most accommodating to rapists and pedophiles? Yeah, it’s really shitty. But you didn’t write the law books, as much as you like to believe you did.” A smile crept onto his face. “You care about your mom, your abuelita, everyone that helped you in the Bronx. I know you care about us, even Carisi, although you’d never admit it. You are not a spineless jellyfish, no matter how fun it is to say.”

“You really believe that?” He still couldn’t meet your eyes. It always amazed you how easily the most put together people could fall victim to their insecurities.

“Rafael, I would not be spending every Thursday night for the past two years with you if I didn’t believe that you were one of the most kind-hearted people I’ve ever met. I care about you.”

His green eyes finally met yours as he moved to gently hold your hand that was previously resting on his forearm. He gave it a soft squeeze as you smiled, trying to ignore the butterflies that started blooming in your stomach. The same butterflies that rested there every time your hands brushed when you were walking down the hallway, or when his hand rested at the small of your back to escort you into the courtroom. And after tonight, and the way he was looking back at you, you knew he felt them too.

You spent the next ten minutes finishing off the takeout, sitting in a comfortable silence, not needing to fill the moment with anything else. The two of you kept sneaking glances at one another, breaking out into a sheepish grin if you were caught.

Once you were done eating, Rafael cleaned up the food as you got all your belongings together for the long weekend. It wasn’t until that moment you realized he wasn’t wearing an expensive suit; he had on a navy blue quarter zip, black jeans, and some loafers. A smile crept up on your face knowing that you got to see him in casual clothes.

“Ready?” He asked as you slipped on your gloves and pushed your chair in behind you. “Ready.”

You lived close enough to the precinct that it was only a ten minute walk. Rafael lived in the other direction, but still insisted on walking you back to your apartment. An Uber could pick him up from there, he said, because that man would not be caught dead walking across the city in his loafers.

He called for a ride as you approached your block, not wanting him to wait in the cold too long. As you approached the brick walk up, you started to fidget with the keys resting in your pocket.

“Thank you for dinner. And a double thank you for not making me eat your sushi.” He smiled. “You’re welcome. Thank you for being such good company.”

“Anytime.” A sharp gust of wind hit you, causing you to duck your head into your coat for a few seconds. When you looked back up, Rafael’s cheeks were rosy red and wind burnt, and absolutely adorable. “I’ll see you next week for a warrant, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure. Make sure to get me a coffee on the way, listening to you list the legal reasons why you need the warrant always makes me sleepy.”

You smiled.“Deal. Goodnight, Raf.”

“‘Night, Y/n.”

Despite the farewell statements, neither one of you moved. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from his warm eyes, and it wasn’t until you felt his fingers brush against yours that you moved closer.

His eyes flickered to your lips for a second, before looking back at you. You took another step towards him, waiting for him to close the gap between you. When he did, all you could feel was the warmth of his lips on yours, and the cold tip of his nose resting against your cheek.

It was short, the two of you pulling away after a few seconds. But one smile from you had him leaning back in, resting a hand on your cheek as he kissed you again. It was slow and careful, but full of adoration. You couldn’t help but smile into him, bringing your hand up to rest against his own. After a few more seconds, his own smile made it impossible to stay connected.

This time when you pulled away, you rubbed your thumb across his red, wind burnt cheek, not even trying to suppress the stupid smile on your face. And you were happy to see him grinning the same way.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” He said, shifting his head just enough to press a kiss to the palm of your hand. Neither one of you is willing to ruin this moment with any talks about what this means. “Okay. Get home safe.” “I will.”

One more look at his rosy red cheeks, and you let out a laugh before you let yourself pull away.

“What?” He asked, completely dumbfounded by his affect on you. You shook your head in response. “Nothing.”

He returned your laughter before lightly kissing your lips one last time. You could get used to this.

“Goodnight, counselor.” You said once you pulled away, lightly shoving him toward the ride that just pulled up.

“Goodnight, detective.”

****

#rafael barba x reader #rafael barba fic #rafael barba #law and order: svu #law and order svu #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x female! reader #rafael barba x female!reader #jules writes shit ??

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

Stolen reputation

Summary: Losing your job is more than you can bear…

Pairing: CEO!Dean x Accountant!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, Charlie Bradburry, Jo Harvelle, Lisa Braeden

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of cancer/cancer treatment, accusation, mentions of anxiety

Nervously chewing on your lower lip, you wait for Dean Winchester to finally say a word. Usually, you work with his brother Sam or on rare occasions with his father but Dean, well Dean Winchester is the man they send you to if you messed up.

You wreck your brain since Jo told you worriedly that Dean Winchester wants to see you at his office. The last time that man talked to you was when he asked if you could bring him a coffee too as his secretary quit yet again.

“Do you know why you are here?” Dean’s voice low and stern brings you out of your thoughts. “I asked you a question Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Jo told me you want to see me, Sir. I know I was late last week but it was the first time and I swear it will never happen again,” apologizing for the only mistake you made in the five years you work for Winchester Inc. you dare not to meet Dean’s gaze.

“You think I would waste my time for nonsense as coming too late to work? This is serious, Ms. Y/L/N. Stealing money from our clients’ accounts is a crime. You are lucky I did not call the cops,” Dean barks and your head snaps upward to meet his gaze.

“I would never steal, Sir. I swear I do not know what you are talking about. I work hard, never make mistakes, and came too late only this once in over five years. I’m loyal and reliable. I never stole anything,” close to tears, you feel your anxiety rise again. Your lips start to quiver, and you need all your strength to not start to hyperventilate.

“Do you think I am dumb, that Lisa is dumb?” You shake your head, wiping a few rogue tears away.

“Lisa? I don’t understand. She talked to me just yesterday, asked me questions about the accounts I had to close as the clients left us,” you want to open your laptop to show Dean the data but he grasps it, tossing it onto the couch.

“Stop lying, Y/N!” He slams the palm of his hands onto the leans of your chair, making you flinch.

“I do not lie, Sir. Cole signed the papers. He would’ve seen any mistake or if money would have disappeared. I swear, there is nothing wrong with my accounts.” Dean doesn’t believe you, rather gets papers out for you to sign.

“You’re lucky I got the money back from the account you transferred it to. This way, we can keep the cops out of this and not lose our reputation for being safer than any bank,” Dean hands you a pen, glaring at you. “You are fired. Sign this, pack your shit and leave.”

“Sir, please, I need this job. I didn’t do anything wrong. Let me check the accounts, or ask Charlie. I know she can find out if I manipulated any account, Sir. Give me the chance to prove I am innocent,” you try but Dean points toward the papers and you know – he will not give you a chance.

“To think I believed you are different, Y/N,” Dean huffs, grabbing your wrist harshly to lead you out of his office. “I’ll stay next to you and watch you pack your things. You are not allowed to enter this building or have contact with one of the employers ever again.

“Y/N,” Jo gasp watching tears run down your cheeks while you toss the few belongings you brought to your working place into your bag. “What happened?”

“Lisa said I stole money,” you sniffle. “Mr. Winchdester didn’t let me prove I am innocent so she won and will get my position.”

“That’s what she wanted after all,” Jo, grunts. “I can’t believe she lied to get your job,” Dean furrows his brows at Jo, searching her face. “Shame, Y/N. How will you pay for your dad’s…” You shake your head, pressing your index finger to your friend's lips.

“I’ll find a way, always did Jo. Losing a job is not the end of the world…”

Three months later…

“I am back bitches and…” Charlie looks at your working place, wondering why Lisa Braeden sits at your place. “What the fuck happened, Jo?”

“Lisa the bitch Braeden accused Y/N she stole money from two accounts. Dean didn’t give her a chance to prove she’s innocent. Cole tried to talk to Dean but he stayed adamant. I think she works three jobs now to pay for her dad’s treatment.”

“Holy fucking shit!” Charlie yells before she waltzes toward Dean’s office. “Why did no one call me or Sam? I bet we could’ve found the culprit in no time and I am sure, it’s not Y/N.”

“Charlie, what the…,” Dean gasps when Charlie shoves him aside to get access to his computer. “Charlie?”

“Show me the accounts, now. I don’t believe Y/N stole money. If you do not give her a chance, fine, but I will check her story before judging her.”

“Fine, check it. I bet you will not find anything proving she’s innocent…” Dean enters his password, opening the accounts. “There. Money got transferred to this bank account.”

“Did you look at the time stamp Dean?” Charlie looks up at Dean, pointing toward the time stamp. “I mean, Y/N was in Melbourne with Sam, Jo, and Cole at that time. I know as we had a great video chat sleepover that night.”

“What? No, this is impossible,” Dean swallows thickly, nervously rubbing his scruffy cheek. “She could’ve accessed…oh, no…we changed the system back then. You can only access the account from the main server at this building.”

“Exactly, Mr. Winchester. Not only did you accuse the poor girl, but you also fired her. Do you know what it means to get fired by a Winchester?” Nodding Dean looks at the next account and the time stamp. “Same date and time, Dean. If anyone stole the money, it was not Y/N, Jo, or Sam. I was at Paris and I don’t think you stole the money to fire Y/N…”

Whilst Dean tries to find out where you moved to or how to apologize for not giving you a chance to prove you are innocent you work three jobs. You even had to move out of her apartment to spare money as your father’s condition got worse.

“How is he today?” Rubbing your sore eyes you look up at Alex, giving the friendly nurse a sad smile. “You look tired, Y/N.”

“Just came home from my night job, had a shower to spend a few hours here before my day job starts,” you huff, hating you lied to your father. “Dad asked why I am always tired, you know, I didn’t have the heart to tell him I got fired.”

“Whatever that guy said is wrong. I know you for three years now. Never would you steal anything, Y/N,” Alex looks at your father, giving you a soft smile. “He’s doing better, the therapy seems to help.”

“It’s worth working three jobs, I know it,” grasping for your father’s hand you gently press it to your face. “One day he’ll get better.”

“Mom, I know that I shall not mess with a Winchester, but that douche fired Y/N. You know, the girl I told you about. Her father has lung cancer, and she spends all the money she earns with three jobs for an expensive experimental treatment. You know Dean Winchester, tell him he’s an asshole for ruining the girl,” Alex angrily hangs up the phone, shaking her head at Jody’s words.

“Was that your mom?” Claire sighs, watching you sleepily read your father his favorite book. “Does the girl ever sleep?”

“Not with three jobs and her dad’s condition,” Alex explains what happened to you, your job, and Dean Winchester, unbeknownst Claire’s father is a good friend of Dean. “Poor girl will break down sooner or later…”

Dean doesn’t know if he’s allowed to enter your father's hospital room. Only stealing glances he watches you talk to your father, telling him it’s an honor to work for John Winchester’s company.

“You know the company dad. Always work, but it’s worth it, just like you said. The Winchesters are fair men,” you almost choke on your lie but your father would worry about you, and that’s the last thing he needs.

“I’m so proud of you, sugarplum,” you nod, holding back the tears when your father drifts back into sleep.

“I wish you had a reason, daddy. I’m working three lousy jobs,” pressing a soft kiss to your father's cheek you forget about your sorrows for a moment. “Get better dad, that’s all I want.”

Dean hides behind a corner when you leave your father’s room. He can see the bags under your eyes, a sign that you haven’t slept for too long. You lost weight too, just like the smile you used to ‘wear’.

“What can I get you? Whiskey, vodka, or beer?”

Dean nervously looks at you, waiting for you to recognize him at the end of the bar. You are busy explaining a drink to a customer so he must wait before you turn your attention toward him.

“What can I…?” You clench your jaw when you meet familiar green eyes, “get you, Sir?”

“Hi, erm…uh, beer would be fine, Y/N,” he stammers pointing toward the other guest. “Some nuts too?”

“Sure,” turning around you take deep breaths. You hate Dean Winchester, but you can’t lose one of your jobs, so you place a beer and nuts in front of him. “Anything else, Sir?”

“Y/N, when do you get off? I’d like to talk to you,” you wipe your hands at your jeans, not meeting Dean’s gaze.

“Sir, I have to ask you to not use my forename. It’s Ms. Y/L/N or bartender to you. If you excuse me now, I can’t lose another job because of you,” you jerk your head toward two waiting customers. “Other people want to have a drink too. Goodnight, Sir.”

“Y/N, damnit,” grumbling Dean moves to the other end of the bar, looking at you, expectantly. “I want another drink, no, the whole bottle, and your company.” He places his wallet onto the counter, slamming two-hundred bucks onto the counter. “Stay.”

“I got no time, okay. If you want to sue me or call the cops for the lies Lisa told about me, do so,” with two fingers you shove the money toward Dean, glaring at your former boss. “I don’t need or want your dirty money. Go and spend it at someone else.”

“Sweetheart,” Dean tries, “Charlie proved it wasn’t you who manipulated the accounts of our customers. I’m sorry for not giving you a chance.”

“Not giving me a chance?” You toss the dishtowel you use to clean the counter into Dean’s face. “Are you fucking kidding me? I lost my reputation thanks to you. I work at night at a bar, clean toilets during the day, and in the morning, I work at a diner barely making any money. Sorry doesn’t fix shit, you son of a bitch!” Emptying the bottle of Whiskey over Dean’s face you nod at your boss who mouths ‘you are fired’. “Fuck you, Winchester…”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you a stalker? Do I need to call the cops to get you off my back? Is making my life even more miserable your new hobby?” Brushing past Dean who waited for you at your father’s house you ignore he tries to talk to you.

“Y/N, please wait. I made a dumb mistake. I never wanted you to lose your job or reputation. Lisa came to me, showing me, the accounts and I did not check the date, okay. I should’ve looked closer at the data, but I was so mad. I wanted you to be the new head of the financial department. I felt betrayed, sweetheart.” Dean grasps for your hand, not wanting you to believe he fired you on purpose.

“I’m not your sweetheart, Winchester. My name is Y/N, not sweetheart, baby girl, or the other shit you call your secretaries. I might not own money, a house, or fancy shit but I got dignity, which means I do not have to listen to your stupid pet names for me.”

“I apologize for the pet names, sw…Y/N. Please, let’s go inside and talk about the data, Lisa’s lies, and the stolen money. Dad, he told me to get you back.”

“Your father?” Not believing John Winchester even knows you exist you blink a few times. “Why should he want me to come back? I don’t think he remembers we ever talked.”

“You’re wrong. My father, he remembers your work, the data you handed him just in time for a big deal. John Winchester only remembers people impressing him. You are one of them.”

“John Winchester remembers me…” Mumbling the words you smile. “I’ll tell my dad John Winchester remembered me.”

“Can we talk now? I’d like to have my best worker back. I will do anything to make it up to you,” Dean offers, holding out his hand. “Let me prove I can be fair.”

“I need to sleep for my job in the morning. Maybe I find some spare time between my job at the diner and my cleaning job,” you turn on your heels, looking for your keys. “If you excuse me now, Mr. Winchester.”

“Jesus, sweetheart you are hard to crack. Shall I fall to my knees?” Angrily turning around, you glare at Dean.

“You don’t get it.” You slap his cheek harshly. “It’s not about losing about a job, it’s so much more. I invested five years into your fathers’ company. I spend more time at my desk than with friends or dating. My father was proud of me. I could pay his bills from the hospital.”

“We can find a way to help you, Y/N. Let me…”

“I am not done!” Your angry eyes meet Dean’s, and he gulps, not knowing if he shall be turned on by or scared of you. Suddenly my job was gone, my home too, just like the reputation I build for years. I lost everything as you used your downstairs brain.”

“What the…oh-I get it,” Dean huffs, hanging his head in shame. “You know about me and Lisa. It was after a Christmas party. I got drunk and you know the rest.”

“Only as you banged her doesn’t mean you had to believe her lies. You could’ve handled the situation like a Winchester. Sam or your father would’ve checked the data and not believe that woman.”

Dean nods, taking your hand to squeeze it tightly. “I’m honestly sorry, Y/N. I should’ve treated you with respect and checked the data. I promise to do better if you give me a chance and come back. Work for us again and you’ll get the respect and position you deserve,” you consider Dean’s proposal, glancing at your watch.

“No pet names,” Dean nods, laughing at your angry expression. “I mean it. Not all girls like to get called sweetheart at work.”

“Okay, noted, Y/N. No pet names at work,” he grins now, looking at your hand in his. “Maybe one day I can call you sweetheart outside of work…”

“You can dream, Winchester…you can dream…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog

#Stolen reputation #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester SPN #dean winchester x reader #angst #ceo!dean Winchester #ceo!dean #dean x reader #AU Fanfic #spn au fanfiction

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katherinemallory · 3 years

Text

#10 The roulette of feelings

Hell is empty and all the previous chapters are here: #1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #6 #7 #8 #9

After a few days in London we caught our flight to Monte Carlo. I’m not sure how long we stayed there. This mission felt like a long holiday since the very beginning.

Still on board we agreed that Bond would be the one to play poker and I would pose as his wife, or, as he has put it, “a crown jewel”. Usually I don't like being treated as such, since my experience in behaving like a damsel is close to a bare minimum, but this time I really enjoyed it. Bond was clearly pleased with his leading role in this show, and - while sitting at the poker table - he started to take chances more eagerly. He boasted about his poker skills all the time and I kept working from the shadows, observing him and our rivals, and making sure that we don’t expose ourselves too much. A win-win situation.

We were quite busy spending time at the casino, discussing the tactics, or using all the possible attractions offered by the city of Monte Carlo. The only contact I had with the outside world during the first week were my reports to MI6 which went directly to M, delivered to him by Eve Moneypenny.

One day, while Bond was on the meeting with our liaison (it's amazing the SIS has got its people... everywhere), my phone rang. I picked it up and sat on my bed, crossing my legs.

"Hi Eve. It’s nice to hear you. Did you... find out anything?"

"Not yet, Kath, but I'm working on it," she reassured me. "I just wanted to know how you're doing. You haven't been in touch for *days*. I’ve only noticed your daily reports."

"I'm more than fine, thank you. And I’m sorry for not being in touch... I have to admit I've been kinda busy, but... I won’t complain. Finally I do all those things I needed to recharge my batteries."

“I can’t believe what I hear! Does it mean I should become a double-0 if I want to feel more relaxed?” she teased me.

“You definitely should try it,” I replied, smiling. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s absolutely true. I enjoy the high-life more than I expected... All those fancy parties, drinks, wealthy men, late-night strolls around the streets of Monte Carlo... You get used to it pretty quickly," I replied in delight. "Sometimes I forget that I am here for the purpose of work.”

“It’s great to hear that, Kath. You deserve it, especially after what happened in Geneva,” said Eve and hesitated. “And... And w-w-what about Bond...? I guess it’s him who takes you on these late-night strolls?”

I laid on the bed, putting one pillow under my head. I looked straight at the white ceiling.

“Well... We spend each night at the casino, pretending to be a husband and a wife who just want to enjoy themselves... In the mornings Bond tries to teach me how to play poker. I fail miserably every time!” I chuckled. “We share a suite. I had some concerns before, but so far he behaves."

Eve's voice went up really high.

"You mean he did give up on you?”

I tilted my head to the right, placing my cheek on one of the pillows and pressing the phone to my ear.

"He didn’t. We flirt regularly," I replied, as I scratched my forehead with my left hand. “But he’s more patient now, I reckon. And more self-confident. He knows I can’t pay much attention to the other men at the casino, cause it would blow our cover immediately. He knows I wouldn’t do that... This is what makes him... erm... powerful. And he probably thinks I will fall for him eventually,” I added, rolling my eyes. “And I’m afraid he’s right.”

“Uh, you don’t really *mean* it, do you?” she asked, concerned. “There’s no pressure... This mission won’t last forever.”

“Honestly, Eve? Sometimes I feel like it will last forever... And Bond’s presence gets more addictive every day,” I said, lying on my back again. “I used to make fun of it, but I’m afraid I can’t resist Bond much longer. I mean... Not because he’s irresistible, but because... I really start to feel something for him.”

I took a deep breath and then continued:

“It all depends on what you find. If Mallo... erm, if the man I asked you to spy on... is married, then I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t have an affair with Bond...”

“Fair enough,” commented Eve. “At least you know what Bond wants from you. Suppose that’s something. But didn’t you admit the other day that you loved Ma...”

“It’s more complicated than you think," I interrupted. "When you spend all days in Bond’s company, it changes your perspective entirely... You’d better hurry then. I am so confused recently...” Damn, I thought. There is no need to burden Eve with all of this... I should probably change the subject. “... but you didn’t tell me anything about yourself, how was your day at the SIS? Any news?”

“Business as usual. I can’t share much detail, but it seems like Amanda’s got reassigned as she had requested.”

“Good for her. Send my love.”

“I will. And I promise to get in touch as soon as I find out anything about... *him*.”

...

The upcoming days passed so fast that I didn’t think about anything apart from what was going on in Monte Carlo. Intuitively both myself and Bond concentrated on the everyday tasks of the mission, but it turned out most of the time we just had fun, which meant our Walther and Beretta were absolutely useless.

Since the only moments I had only to myself were those just before going to bed in the evenings, I often spent them on analyzing my own feelings and, as a result, I developed a certain kind of insomnia. Or, I should rather call it “a difficulty with falling asleep”.

My thoughts were centred on Mallory. I miss him. I miss him dearly, but only when I have time to think about what he's doing in his old-fashioned office in London. When Bond is around, it’s only him who matters to me. Why is that? What the hell has happened to me? I don't know, but it's disturbing. And I get tired every time I try to sort things out in my mind... Can I really sleep with Bond if Mallory’s married? It’s not about giving up on a married man (which is an obvious decision from my point of view, as I would never break up *anyone’s* marriage), but about being honest to myself. Do I really love Mallory if I can fantasize about Bond? Or do I really feel something for Bond if my next move depends on Mallory’s marital status?

After a few evenings of such intense thinking I realized that no matter the arguments, such analysis is pointless. I could be thinking about this for a year and still didn’t come up with a right solution. I decided to wait and see how the case would resolve itself.

On the last day - it was one of those splendid days in June when you feel the most alive - we went to the casino for one more time, looking more dashing than ever. Little did we know, when we walked hand in hand into the casino - Bond wearing a black dinner jacket and me in an evening scarlet dress - that Bond would win the night’s poker game, gaining an enormous amount of money.

Late at night, around 3 A.M. I went straight to the poker table and brought Bond a dry martini (I've already had a few of them myself to relieve the boredom).

"Congratulations," I said, handing him a martini.

"Thank you," replied Bond and drank half of his glass.

I looked at him with aroused interest while he was drinking. I was never good at poker and, as much as I didn't want to, I had to admit the way he played that night impressed me.

"What do we do now?"

For a while, he observed the olives that seemed as if they were swimming inside the glass, and then gave me a quick glance.

"We pack and come back to London."

"Is that so? What about the winnings?" I asked in disbelief, expecting some kind of joke rather than a matter-of-fact response.

"I will have to transfer them to MI6. I have already contacted M, he should send me the instructions in the next few hours."

"You've already contacted M? Someone's in a hurry. Was your time here *that* bad?” I taunted him.

Bond smirked, but didn't say anything. I glanced around the room. The people started to leave the place.

"So, it means we came here broken and we leave broken, despite the win?" I asked, laughing.

"One could say that," Bond agreed. "But I can still afford a dinner and a drink. Would you join me tonight for a humble celebration?"

"With pleasure. Let's enjoy our last hours in this marvellous place,” I said, taking him by the arm.

After the dinner in one of the restaurants at the casino, we went for our last walk around the streets of Monte Carlo. Both me and Bond became unexpectedly talkative, probably because of too many drinks we had to celebrate the happy ending of the mission.

It could have been around 5 A.M when the walk started to feel too exhausting, and we went back to our shared suite.

"Would you like another?" asked Bond, pointing to the bottle of bourbon at the table, just after we locked the door to the suite.

"Yes," I replied. "The last one for tonight."

I have no idea why I agreed to this, cause I've never been drinking much or mixing alcohols in the past. After Bond handed me my glass, I let my hair down and rushed to the balcony. I need to see this amazing city just one more time before I go to sleep, I thought. I observed the skyline, waiting for Bond to join me.

"To the king and queen of Monaco," said Bond and we clinked glasses, standing next to each other.

I smiled at him and drank the whole glass with my eyes closed, but I still could tell he was staring at me.

"You know, Katherine, it's been one of my favourite missions so far."

"Really?”

"Yes... It’s the simplicity of it,” he took off his dinner jacket, thrown it on the nearest chair, and then continued. “The task I'm really good at... the fairy-tale location, no rush... and the right woman. You," he said in his deep, smooth voice and put his glass on the floor.

Then he put one of his hands on the railing and turned to me, but didn’t say a word, as if he intended to find out how close to me I would allow him to move.

“It’s an honour to hear something like that from such an experienced double-0,” I said timidly, still holding the empty glass in my hands.

Bond gazed at me for a few seconds.

"It's true, I've been a double-0 for quite a while," he said and turned his head to look at the skyline of Monte Carlo, "but rarely did I feel this close with another agent. It's strange. I’ve always tried to avoid being emotionally attached to anyone. Cause of the job's nature and all that stuff."

This time it was me who stayed quiet. I just kept listening to him, realizing how much I *love* his voice and how could I listen to him talking *forever*. It occurred to me how beautiful his magnetic blue eyes were, especially in the middle of the night. One could say the same about Bond's face which now seemed to me like the face of the most handsome man on the planet. It should be illegal to be *that* handsome, I thought.

Bond turned his head to me.

"Then I've met you... and it seems I forget about all of those rules in the blink of an eye... it seems I don't control myself anymore."

I don't know how it happened, but in the next moment I found myself in Bond's arms. I felt his embrace, so tight, as if he wanted to protect me from all of the threats of this world. The glass dropped out of my hands and probably broke up, but we didn’t hear anything apart from the sound of our pumping hearts. I placed my hands on Bond’s chest, and we began to kiss, not being able to control the lust that started to fulfil our bodies. I quickly moved my hands to his neck and then the back of his head. I caressed his hair, which felt like the most pleasant material I have ever touched.

"You're the woman of my dreams," whispered Bond, when he started to kiss my neck. In response, I tilted my head back, but continued to touch his hair.

Out of the blue Bond picked me up and headed towards the bedroom. He was in a hurry, wanting to put me on his bed as soon as possible. He took off his shirt and laid down on me, holding my waist and passionately kissing my neck.

"Oh, James," I moaned, as the touch of his lips and hands started to turn me on. “Keep going... umm... And use that nice, deep voice of yours.”

“Like this?” he asked, lowering his voice and biting my ear. “Do you like it?”

“Yes...”

Oh my, I am in heaven. If he doesn't stop, I'll melt, I thought. I let Bond kiss me a few more times, but then moved to the other side of the bed to undress. Bond watched me hungrily as I took off my dress and stockings. And there I was, lying on his bed and wearing only my sexy black lingerie. I thought that he would eat me if he could.

I encouraged Bond with a sensual gesture, touching myself where I wanted to be touched the most. He couldn’t stand watching me for long, and came closer to kiss me again. He slowly moved from my belly and breasts to my neck.

“I've been waiting for this moment since the day we've met," he murmured, while kissing my collarbone.

I closed my eyes to double the thrill and make the experience more intense. My hands moved to his back and held him tighter.

"You drive me crazy," Bond whispered into my ear.

A fast thought crossed my mind. It's true what they say in the Service... nobody does it better... he's definitely a great lay... to hell with “the revenge plot”, go for it, Kath. I was just about to take off my bra, when I heard something was vibrating. I got a text. Great timing. I opened my eyes and reluctantly sat on the bed, bending down to the bedside cabinet.

"Oh, Katherine, just ignore it," said Bond who still caressed my waist with his right hand.

"Look who’s talking," I replied. "The most professional man in the Service... There’s no need to describe this to you..."

I looked at the screen and in that exact moment my adventurous mood was gone. I felt as if my heart stopped for a short while.

Hi, just wanted to let you know that I have some evidence. He's not married anymore. Love, Eve

I quickly locked the screen to prevent Bond from seeing the message, as I felt his touch on my back. He hugged me from behind, kissing my left shoulder.

"Shall we continue?" he asked in his naughty manner.

I froze in my tracks. What about M? How can I fight for him if I sleep with another man right now? I promised myself to fight for Mallory and I have to be consistent. This was fun, but... I love Mallory, right? It's high time to stop playing games... and to finally forget about Bond. Perhaps it's a good sign I got this message before we did antyhing reckless.

I stood up with my back to Bond, still holding the phone in my hands.

"I'm sorry James... but I can't do this,” I declared as seriously as I could.

"But why?" he asked calmly, but his voice was full of disappointment and sadness. "Was it something I did?"

Oh, dear James, I thought. If you only knew how perfectly you did everything...

"No," I replied and turned to him. My voice was shaking a bit. "It was... it was a wonderful night, but I've never slept with a co-worker before... and... I've just realized it would be wrong. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for this," I blurted out and felt a tear doing down my cheek.

Bond seemed not to believe me.

"You've *just* realized it? *Just* after you've got that message," he said, pointing to my phone. "I don't know what this is about, but... we've had such a great time here, why not celebrate it tonight? It doesn’t matter at all that we work together."

I turned my head in embarrassment, trying not to look at him. He stood up and came closer to me.

"I know that you like me," Bond said and placed his hands on my arms. "You can't simply deny our chemistry. You've seen what kind of magic it can cause... you don't have to ruin it."

I took his hands off me and went to the other side of the bed to grab my clothes.

"I'm really sorry, James. It's over."

"It's over before it even started... Strange, isn’t it?"

I ignored him, as I headed toward to the door leading to my part of the suite. I must have looked miserable in my sexy black lingerie, holding my evening dress, and being on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"I don't want to hurt you *again*," I said quietly with my hand on the doorknob.

Bond shook his head.

"You will hurt me if you leave,” he said calmly, but I knew he was full of anger. His eyes told me he was suspicious of everything I’ve said.

As I knew he had the very right to be suspicious, I turned my back on him, trying to get inside my part of the suite. My hands started to shake, making it impossible to quickly open the door.

“You still think about *him*, don’t you Kath...?” Bond asked in a raised voice, with his hands on his hips. “Why do you keep deceiving yourself? He’s not cut out for it! He doesn’t see you this way... and even if something happened between us he wouldn’t care!”

But I would, James. I would, I thought, going inside my part of the suite through the door. I couldn’t bear to look at those cold blue eyes again.

I went up straight to the bathroom and locked the door. I could not think of anything else than just bursting into tears.

You're so stupid, Kath. Mallory thinks you're responsible, but you're just stupid, I thought, looking at myself in the mirror. What was that for? Bond might be a womanizer, but no one deserves to be treated like that. No one. Does he use other women? He does. But it’s none of your business, Kath. You don't offer someone the pleasure and then deny it. You just don’t...

I spend a few minutes sitting on a bathroom’s floor and crying.

But looking on the bright side... at least I got my backup story. Everyone will see something’s happened between us, but no one will ask questions. And if there is a slightest chance M cares about me, he’ll get the message.

I can’t wait for this mission to be really over. By this time tomorrow I shall be in my apartment in London. Alone.

***

To be continued.

#fanfiction #james bond fanfiction #002 #007 #james bond #bond james bond #m #gareth mallory #katherine mallory #eve moneypenny #casino royale quote #the spy who loved me song quote #nobody does it better

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