#when pen told me his idea for this comic I was like GOD yes please draw it!!!! it's beautiful

[hollymacycomic]

Today's guest comic is drawn by Pen (@ epipencils)!

This is the last comic for guest comic week! Holly & Macy Chapter 4 begins on March 8th. See you next week. <3

#guest comic #webcomic #is that your fursona meme #comic artist #drawing comics #webcomic artwork #when pen told me his idea for this comic I was like GOD yes please draw it!!!! it's beautiful #I also looove how the characters look in his style on the second illustration. they have a quality about them that rlly makes them look #like a couple of scruffy teenagers who run around in the woods

[polnareffenjoyer]

Uh unsure how many characters you’re willing to write for but can I have the SDC crew reacting to seeing their crush’s sketchbook filled with drawings and silly comics of them? On the case you do have a limit on how many, then I’m fine with either Polnareff, Kakoyin, Jotaro or Avdol (who can pick whoever if you want to!) Hope you’re having a lovely day!💕💕

This is such a cute idea anon, hope you like it. Also I don't really have a character limit, I wanted to do all of the crusaders but then I got tired and it already took me such a long time to finish it and ahhh. Sorry for all the grammatical errors, English is not my first language and it's already so late when I'm finishing it and it's just bleh. I hope you like it anyways, sending much love to you anon! ♥️

Stardust Crusaders finding their crushes' sketchbook

Jotaro Kujo

He notices that you've been spending most of your free time drawing in that sketchbook of yours. Truth be told, it bothers him a lot. Jotaro has had a big fat crush on you for a while now, and he secretly longs for your company. He can't admit that tho, he has a hard ass bad boy reputation to maintain after all. What would people say if the saw him all flustered for a girl? The fact that you would rather sit by yourself and draw than be around him and the others bugs him. So one day, when you're busy with something else, he takes your beloved sketchbook and decides to see what's in there. He knows he's being creepy, but he couldn't care less. Just trying to get to know you better, without actually talking to you. Exactly.

He's very flustered but would rather die than admit it. Has read through all of it, admiring every single little drawing. After he's done, he'll just put it back where he found it, it the exact same place just so you don't notice someone has been messing with it. You probably have no idea he had seen your sketchbook at first, but you surely notice the blush dusting his cheeks whenever he speaks to you from that day on. Probably avoids you for a little while because he's so flustered.

The rest of the crew also notices something is off, Jotaro is always lost in thoughts and smokes more frequently. He can't keep himself from thinking about those cute drawings of yours, reading through your comics was a true delight. It fills him with glee to know that HE, among all of the crusaders, is the one who's the main character in your stories. It makes him giddy on the inside.

His secret eventually comes to light one night, he accidentally admits to having read through your comics while a late night talk between the whole group. While you were talking, Kakyoin had brought up the topic of your sketchbook. Now it's your turn to be embarassed, blushing crimson while trying to get as much information out of him as possible. How much did he see? Did he read through ALL OF THEM?

The rest of the crusaders are shocked at first, but quickly they start to laugh at the scene. Jotaro is reluctant to give any information, but he eventually tells you that yes, indeed, he's seen EVERYTHING. However, doesn't admit what the content of the sketchbook really is. Despite everything, he would never embarass you like that.

After everyone goes to sleep, you catch Jotaro before he has a chance to fall asleep, lying on his sleeping bag while looking at the night sky. You want to apologize, say anything, just to talk to him, but you're unable to find right words. He just sighs.

"Yare yare daze, there's no need to be embarassed [Y/N], I'm not mad"

Your eyes light up at his words. You want to say something, anything, thank him, but before you get a chance to do so, Jotaro's deep voice cuts you off.

"To be honest, I think your drawings are amazing. I really liked them" you notice his face is slightly tinted red from underneath his cap "But if you wanted me to model for you, you could've just said so"

With that, he rolls over and away from you. Completely baboozled, you roll over as well and try to sleep, or at least pretend to be asleep. Honestly, neither of you had slept much that night.

Kakyoin Noriaki

Kakyoin had a thing for you since you joined the crusaders, and your sketchbook is probably the very first thing he had noticed about you. He's always been interested in art, his parents had signed him up to numerous art courses and whatnot through his life. He's always loved drawing and painting, using it as an escape from his daily problems, and seeing that you two might have something in common makes him incredibly happy, especially since he has feelings for you.

He'll try to approach you about your sketchbook very subtely, afraid that he might scare you away by being too pushy. Of course you get extremely flustered everytime he brings it up, but it doesn't discourage him. Kakyoin respects your boundaries and understands that you might not be ready to show him your drawings yet. Despite that, he's always willing to share his knowledge with you. He'll give you advices about proper shading while you two are waiting in the hotel lobby for the rest of the group to finish up picking rooms. During a long car ride, he'll talk to you about his favourite artists. If you want him to show you how to put certain shading techniques into practice, he'll be more than happy to do so. He'll just pick a random piece of paper and start drawing on it, you might want to lean in closer and maybe put your head on his shoulder to get a better look? He has no objections! Just sayin.

When he eventually gets to see your sketchbook, this man is so honored! He didn't mean to look, at first he though it was just some book lying around and wanted to take a look inside, out off boredom. Once he realizes what he's reading at, his face flushes with crimson. Your sketchbook is filled with sketches of him? This whole time you were actually drawing him, out of all people? He couldn't be more grateful that no one else was around, if someone saw him reading through your comics with this stupid smile on his face and red cheeks, they would've though he went mad.

Kakyoin wastes no time trying to find you. For a moment, he thinks that perhaps he should've waited a bit, just to get you alone and not embarass you infront of the whole crew. He can't think straight though, his mind filled with your cute little drawings, with his face drawn with black pen over and over again. With glee, he notes that you had used the very techniques he had told you about earlier. If you had drawn him so many times, does it mean that you have a crush on him too? It's too good to be true.

"[Y/N]! Can I talk with you for a minute?"

He goes to confront you immediately. Others give him a puzzled look, but he couldn't care less. He grabs your arms and leads you away.

"Don't be mad [Y/N], but I've seen your sketchbook and I have to say, I think your art is beyond amazing!"

You're at loss of words, your face red and you could swear that you've never felt so embarassed in your whole entire life. However, his reaction is making you feel a bit better. He's not mad, nor is he making fun of you. If anything, he seems enamoured.

"Please, [Y/N], we should draw together! Maybe next time we have a chance, I should paint your portrait?"

Despite the awkwardness, the whole situation turns out amazing in the end. How he's sure you must have feelings for him, and it makes him incredibly happy, hoping that one day, after your crusade is done, he'll get a chance to repay you and make that promised portrait.

Muhammad Avdol

With everything that's been happening lately, Avdol gets a little bit distracted from you. Before he would steal glances your way all the time, watching with curiosity as you would draw something in your sketchbook. Recently, he's been too busy fighting enemy stand users and... well, trying not to die. He still cares about you a lot and watches over you during fights, ready to shield you from danger with his own body, if it's what it takes to keep you safe.

It probably happens because of a mishap. While you are deciding on your rooming, you leave your sketchbook lying next to Avdol's things and go to the bathroom. After he's done helping Joseph with translating and getting everything done, he goes back and assumes that it's just one of his books that has fallen out of the bag. Not thinking much of it, he picks it up and leaves with Mrs Joestar to settle in their shared room.

You can imagine the panic and shock that nearly paralyzes you once you notice that your beloved sketchbook is gone, nowhere to be seen, reduced to atoms! You begin to look around frantically, looking under the furniture while sweating profusely. Other quests give you weird looks, but you don't even notice them staring. Polnareff is one of them, he asks if you're okay and tries to calm you down, but to no avail. After he leaves, you try to focus really hard and try to remember - when did you see it last time? It was on that chair for sure when you left. God, you can only pray that it doesn't end up in Avdol's hands somehow...

Meanwhile, Avdol is getting ready for shower and goes through his bag. He notices the book he picked up from the lobby isn't even a book, but a sketchbook! Now he's sure he must've picked it up by mistake, he decides it would be best to put it down and not look through it. It's someone's very personal art after all, it would be very disrespectful to - wait a damn minute, is that HIM?

Long story short, he goes through a good portion of your drawings before Joseph comes out of the shower and gives him a puzzled look, seeing how his eyes are literally shinning with adoration. He puts your sketchbook back into his bag, acting as if nothing happened and continues on with his nightly routine. Later on, when Joseph is already fast asleep, he contemplates about whether or not he should go to your room right now and ask about the sketchbook he had found. He's already suspecting it's yours, whose else would it be? He has seen you drawing often, could it be that you returned his feelings and had spent your time sketching him? Ultimately, he decides to wait until tomorrow to find out.

The very next day, he knocks on your door early in the morning. It startles you awake, running up to your door to look through a peephole, seeing a muscular man on the other side. Sighing heavily, you unlock the door and open it just a little bit.

"Excuse my intrusion, [Y/N], but I have found something that I think belongs to you."

Now that's embarassing. You see your sketchbook in his hand, a wide, knowing smile on his face. He knows it's yours. All it took is one look at your stupid red face to figure it out. God, he can read you like an open book, can't he? While you reach out to take it from him, your fingers touch just slightly.

"Don't worry, I swear I won't tell anyone about this" she winked at you, which almost made you gasp "If anything, I think I should maybe pose for you in private? So you can get a better look? You should think about it..."

Who would've thought this man could be such a flirt sometimes...

Jean Pierre Polnareff

You better watch out, because if this man has a crush on you, you bet he would go above and beyond to find out what's inside that sketchbook. I'm not joking. He forgets what personal space is, he's even worse that Jotaro, because while JoJo would make sure to be sneaky, Polnareff wouldn't even bother. He'll try to catch a sneak peak by looking over your shoulder while you're drawing, constantly asking you questions about art related things, everything always leading to your sketchbook.

He wants to know what's inside. Simple as that. You're like an enigma to him, I feel like all women are mysteries to him and he always works towards finding out what their secrets are. You are especially interesting to him, because of how secretive you are with your art. He's captivated, and while he never had any interest in arts himself, he had always fancied himself as a man with a great sense of beauty. That being said, he's always trying to get your attention while talking about how "France is a wonderful country for artists! You should come and visit after our crusade is over, [Y/N]! I'll show you all the greatest museums and art galleries!"

He's like a puppy, following you around and being just a bit too pushy. If you tell him you feel uncomfortable, he'll back off of course. He's not just some juvenile pervert after all! He's a honourable man who would never touch or bother a woman without her permission, no matter how desperate he seems sometimes.

When he finally sees your sketchbook, it's probably because he did it on purpose and not because of an accident. He wanted to make sure that it was him your were capturing in your drawing, and boy was he happy when he saw what's inside! It's all him, cute little sketches, little comics, it's better that he could've ever imagined! He's literally crying the tears of joy while reading them. Before it was all just wishful thinking, but now it turns out to be true! He's honoured, admiring every single little drawing with hit tears streaming down his face. He must look pathetic right now, if anyone was around they would think the was a mad man. He gets up and runs away with your sketchbook in his hand, trying to find you.

"[Y/N]! Ma cherie! Mon coeur! My love, my life! We need to talk!"

Did i mention that he doesn't shy away from nicknames? Yeah.

It's probably the worst confrontation compared to the rest of them, he's not subtle like Kakyoin and decides to talk with you about your drawings right then and there, in front of everyone. At first they're surprised, looking at Polnareff as is he was crazy, but slowly their shock is replaced with amusement. Joseph doesn't even try to hold back his laughter, while the rest of the crew is trying to keep it cool as not to embarass you any further while the Frenchman is just going on and on with his declarations of undying love. It's a bit dramatic, one of these moments that you will probably laugh about in the future, but you felt like disappearing right then and there.

"Your drawing are magnifique! [Y/N], my love, if you wanted to draw me, you could've just said so! Although I don't think I deserve to be potrayed by you, to be drawn by your skilled hands, ma cherie!"

You snatch the sketchbook from him. After that incident you probably try to avoid him, but he won't give up! He's more determined than ever, knowing that you feel the same way as he does fills him with hope, hope for a future life with you that is! He won't give up until he makes you the happiest woman on earth.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba x reader #jjba x you #stardust crusaders #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #muhammad avdol #jean pierre polnareff #jotaro x reader #jjba imagines #stardust crusaders imagines #kakyoin imagine #polnareff x reader #avdol x reader #jjba headcanons #first request done!

[winterscaptain]

in the dark.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

request from anon: I dont know if you've already done something like this 😅 But can you do a hotch x new bau member? Like her and hotch are already a thing and they try to keep it hidden (and they do for a like a month) before someone makes the connection. Just a big secret fluff fest?

a/n: ask and you shall receive anon! secret fluff fests happen to be my specialty, and you’ll need hella mouthwash and floss for this one to avoid cavities. i had SO much fun writing this one and couldn’t wait until the morning to post it.  words: 4,791 (whoops) warnings: some swearing, nothing too wild. 

part two!

AO3 | Masterlist | Requests Closed for Now!

+++

You stepped into the elevator and took it to the sixth floor, where you knew the exact route you needed to take to avoid the BAU bullpen. You’d been called to Erin Strauss’s office, pulled from the heavy caseload at CARD for some kind of mystery meeting with the adjacent section chief.

Checking your watch, you figured that there would be enough time to for a visit before returning to the eighth floor if this meeting didn’t run too long.

“Good morning, Agent. Thank you for coming in.”

You were halfway impressed – you’d barely made it through the door when she started talking. “Good morning, ma’am.”

She stood, handing you a folder. “This shouldn’t take too long, but you’re welcome to sit.”

You flipped through the folder, taking a seat in one of the chairs across from her desk. “A transfer from CARD, ma’am?”

Erin nodded. “I’d like you to try a stint in the BAU. We are working to fill a few roles as the unit’s caseload increases, and when asked, your unit chief did not hesitate to recommend you.”

Oh god.

Your thought died on your tongue before it could leave your mouth.

That was a problem for another time.

You cleared your throat to cover the rising heat in your cheeks. “Yes, ma’am. Of course.”

“You should have no issues settling into the team. Your new unit chief, Aaron Hotchner, is a strong personality, and I am the first person to tell you he’s not always easy to get along with –“

You stifled a laugh, covering it with a light cough into your elbow.

“- but his team is very capable. If you have any issues at all, feel free to bring them to me.” She placed her reading glasses back on her nose and signed something in front of her.

“Shall I report to Agent Hotchner today?”

Agent Hotchner. That’s a goddamn crackup.

“No, not today. I’ll get everything in order for your arrival tomorrow. Report at 9am tomorrow. Agent Hotchner will be ready for you.”

You’re damn right he will.

+++

You rolled over in bed and burrowed into the warm body beside you. To get any closer, you’d have to be under his skin.

Aaron grumbled and managed to pull you even closer, one arm spanning the length of your spine and the other resting across your thigh where it was slung over his hip.

You were somewhere between sleeping and waking for the next hour or so. The slow rise and fall of Aaron’s chest under your cheek brought you a bone-deep calm, letting you rest comfortably in that liminal space.

You were prepared when Aaron’s alarm went off, a full half-hour before it normally did.

“Early meeting?” you asked, as if you didn’t already know.

He hummed an affirmative and tipped your chin up with one finger. “No earlier than usual, but I want to get settled in before the day starts.”

My favorite Type-A Unit Chief.

You smiled against his mouth, stretching up into his kiss. It quickly turned less-than chaste, your tongues sliding together and your hands wandering across his chest and back. The raised ridges of his scars marked your path as you traced invisible patterns on his skin. You knew his body as well as he did, maybe better, and he yours.

After a few minutes, you came to your senses and pulled back. He looked dazed, his lips swollen and plush, his hair soft and tousled on top of his head.

“You have no business looking that good when you have to leave early,” you said with a light laugh. You carded your fingers through the hair at his temples, taking the opportunity to sweep your thumb across his cheekbone.  

He gave you a crooked grin and reached for you again. You rolled away from him, pressing your palms to his chest and locking your elbows.

“If you keep this up, you’re gonna be late.”

Aaron rolled his eyes and threw the covers back, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You launched yourself across the bed and wrapped your arms around him, tracing the lines of his chest and abdomen with light and playful fingers.

“As you so astutely pointed out, I will be late if you keep this up.” His chastisement was weak, at best.

You pressed kisses to the space between his shoulder blades and pushed him out of bed. He turned around and brought your face between his hands, pressing a series of kisses against your lips.

How he ever makes it to work on time, I have no idea.

+++

At about 8:50 that morning, Strauss knocked twice on Aaron’s open office door before letting herself in.

Aaron looked up. After processing who it was, he set his pen down and laced his fingers.

Why is she always ten minutes early?

“Good morning, ma’am.”

“Good morning, Agent Hotchner.” She looked a little antsy, but he wasn’t sure if that was just her general affect, or something more specific.

“What can I do for you this morning?”

“You have a new agent reporting to your unit this morning. Highly recommended. An asset. Please be welcoming.” She was short and to the point, but it made Aaron’s head hurt.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “All due respect, ma’am, it has been very difficult for me to manage these new agents with such little notice.”

“I understand, but that is my call and not yours.” Aaron suppressed a sigh as she continued. “You’re perfectly capable of managing a larger team, especially one with such capable agents.” She placed the personnel file on his desk and walked out, leaving the door open behind her.

“Damn it,” he said to himself. There was no point in reviewing the file – it was entirely possible Strauss told the agent to report at nine, which means they would probably arrive early, which means –

“Aaron?”

He looked up at the door and his face broke out into a smile in spite of his sour mood. After a quick moment, he sobered and picked up the file on his desk. “I can’t chat long, sweetheart – I have a new agent reporting this morning.”

You did your best to look both politely interested and appropriately surprised.

“Oh, of course, love. I’ll leave you to it.” You were still smiling at him, waiting for it all to click into place.

“Thank you. It shouldn’t be long. We haven’t been called on a case yet this week, and the new agent will have to sit with Dave to work through a couple of consults so I can get a better read on capabilities...” He trailed off, distracted. He opened the file but didn’t look down, his gaze still stuck on you.

You sauntered back toward him. Your palms met the cool wood of the desk as you leaned over it and kissed him lightly. His shaky exhale fanned across your face – restraint evident in his posture. You were taunting him, and he knew it.

But the door was closed....damn it.

He still hadn’t looked down at the file, but a small smile dancing around his mouth. “You can’t be here. My new agent will be here in a few minutes, at the very most.”

“Who’s the agent?”

He shook his head and glanced down at the file. He did a double-take, and the only thing more comical than his head flying back up was the pink flush that rushed to his cheeks.

There was silence for a moment as you watched him process the information before him. 

“You’re my new agent,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

You winked at him.

“Did you ask?”

You shook your head and sat, leaning back in the chair and getting comfortable.

“When did you find out?”

“Yesterday.”

He closed the file and set it back on his desk. His arms crossed as he reclined in his chair, an eyebrow raised at you.

You finally gave in, resting your elbows on his desk and your chin in your hands. “Are you upset?”

He laughed, and you were happy the door was closed. There was no way you could keep anything from the team if they’d heard that. “No, I’m not upset. We’ll just have to compartmentalize a little bit. It won’t be easy, and we’ll have to tell Strauss eventually.”

“Let’s just see how long it takes for the team to pick up on it, and we’ll go from there. What do you think?” Keeping a team of profilers in the dark was no easy task, but you were up to the challenge.

Aaron’s face drops into his normal operating expression – stoic and a little skeptical. You’d seen it before, and you supposed you’d grow even more accustomed to it soon enough. “That sounds perfectly reasonable, Agent. You can speak to facilities about getting a desk downstairs. Report to Agent Rossi next door – he will walk you through all of our procedures.”

You suppressed a smile and stood. “Thank you, sir. Will that be all?”

He returned to his report, but there was a smile threatening at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, Agent. That will be all. Thank you.”

This was going to be fun.

+++

Your first three cases went smoothly. You quickly endeared yourself to the team and had a natural knack for building geographical profiles with Reid. Hotch did his best to pay you very little mind in the field, only to knock on your hotel room door in the very small hours of the morning.

The humor in referring to him as “Hotch” and “Agent Hotchner” and “Sir” hadn’t worn off yet. You had to suppress a smile every single time. It was easier for him, as he was so accustomed to working with his natural stoicism. The hardest part for the both of you was avoiding anything that looked like familiarity. Casual brushes of his arm, catching his sleeve, his hand on your lower back as you got into the car – it all had to go.

You’re new. You’re new. You don’t know anyone. Keep it together.

It was a game, in some ways, and one you both enjoyed playing for different reasons.

“How are you liking it so far?” Emily asked, dropping down next to you on the jet.

Aaron was across from you at the table, and you’d been playing a quiet game of footsie for the better part of fifteen minutes. You pulled away first, tucking one foot under you as you turned to face Emily.

“So far so good,” you replied. “It’s a little bloodier than CARD, but dealing with adults is always easier than dealing with parents.”

She laughed lightly and clicked her tongue. “Well, once you get your first case with kids, we’ll revisit that one.” She lowered her voice, not that Hotch wouldn’t be able to hear her. “They’re always particularly hard on JJ and Hotch, you know.”

You nodded sagely. “I can imagine.”

Hotch raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

She bumped your shoulder with hers and invited you to drinks with Derek and Penelope when all the paperwork was finished.

“Sure,” you said, beaming. “I’d love to.”

You looked back down at your tablet as she rose to find a better place to nap. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a minuscule grin on Aaron’s face and returned it with one of your own.

+++

“Oh c’mon everyone has a crush on someone in their section,” JJ exclaimed, looking to Penelope for confirmation. All of you, save for Aaron and Dave, piled into the car and went to the bar when you finished your case reports.

Garcia nodded. “Oh absolutely. Have you seen those TASK guys?”

“Hey, I’m right here.” Morgan pulled on one of her pigtails. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“No but seriously,” Emily said. “Anyone catching your eye?”

You shrugged noncommittally, sipping your drink. “Not really.”

JJ squinted at you. “You might want to rethink lying to a bunch of profilers.”

“I thought profiling each other was against the rules!”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Well yeah, but that’s mostly for the big stuff, and it’s more a suggestion than a rule.”

“I thought I saw you eyein’ our fearless leader last week,” Penelope said with a sly grin.

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your drink, buying yourself some time. You knew exactly what she was talking about – a press conference, in which Hotch shut down a particularly combative reporter with a practiced finesse. You’d failed to hide your smile before Penelope caught you, on one of her rare outings on a case.

“Yeah! I watched you guys on that last case. He’s way nicer to you than he was to me when I first got here.” Emily sounded a little hurt and a lot indignant.

Derek bumped your shoulder with his and gestured to Emily. “That’s because she was insufferable when she first got here,” he stage-whispered.

Emily looked damn near close to throwing her drink at him when you finally relented.

“Okay, fine. I may or may not have noticed that Hotch is...attractive.” You tried your best to sound more evasive and far less sure than you were. You were certain Aaron was one of the finer men you’d ever laid your eyes on, but they didn’t need to know that.

“Aha!” JJ said with a laugh. “I knew it!”

“What?” You asked

“You’ve got a crush on Ho-“ She shut her mouth abruptly as her gaze shifted over your shoulder. Emily swiftly took a massive sip of her drink and set it down a little too roughly.

You all turned around, only to find Hotch standing behind you at the bar.

“Am I too late?”

“No!” Penelope said, a little too quickly. “Not at all. Here, take my seat.”

She vacated the seat beside you, and you shot her a look.

You were playing your part well, and so was Aaron. With a small smile, he sat beside you.

“Settling in okay?” He asked. The bartender placed a beer in front of him, and he winked at you when he took a drink.

“Ah,” you said. “Emily beat you to that question,” you checked your watch, “about an hour ago. I think I said something about it being a little bloodier than I imagined, and that my new boss is a real hardass.”

+++

When you stumbled through the door of his apartment, a bit flushed and a little tipsy, you couldn’t stop laughing. You toed off your shoes and collapsed into his chest, looping your arms around his neck.

“Emily was trying so hard to weasel something out of me! You should have seen her, Aaron it was hilarious.”

He pulled you close and pressed his cold nose into your neck. You jumped and gave his hair a swift tug.

He looked up and his eyes darkened. You knew that look.

My God, he’s handsome.

“What do you say we string them along a little longer?” He asked, his voice low and rough.

You gulped. “I think that’s a great idea.” It came out a little higher and a little breathier than you intended, but he tended to have that effect on you.

+++

You had just turned off the light when there was a knock on your hotel room door. With a sigh, you hauled yourself back out of bed and opened the door.

Aaron was on the other side, in his flannel pajama pants and one of his many black crew-neck t-shirts. He looked exhausted, but that was normal when you were on the road. 

“Want any company?”

As if he had to ask.

You stepped back, letting him in and locking the door behind him. He had a hand on you almost the entire time, fingers glancing across your skin as you felt your way across the room in the dark.

When you both settled under the covers, he wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him with your back to his chest. Within minutes, you were already dozing, safe and warm in his embrace.

“Hey, Y/N?” It was almost a whisper.

You matched his volume, as to not break the sanctity of the darkness. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d told you, not by a long shot. Nevertheless, it never lost its novelty. Maybe he said it a little differently or maybe you heard it a little differently each time he said it, but it always managed to set off a wave of affection that originated somewhere near your sternum.

You took his hand from where it rested against your abdomen and pressed a kiss to his palm. “I love you too.”

When your alarm woke you in the morning, he was gone. A note covered your phone where it rested on the nightstand. His blocky, even script danced in even lines across the paper.

Sweetheart,

I had to get back to my room before the others got up, but I didn’t want to wake you. I’ll see you at the precinct in a couple of hours.

I love you (even when you snore).

- AH

You scoffed. You’d get him back for that later.

I don’t snore, Aaron Hotchner.

+++

The laughter carried out of Aaron’s office and down the hall, where Dave was reading at his desk. He set his book down – the latest advance copy of a friend’s draft he’d offered to go over as a favor – and listened.

He thought he was mistaken, but he could swear he heard Aaron laughing, too.

And laughing he was. You were reaching forward with great ambition. Your one knee giving you leverage on the desk, one foot keeping your balance on one of the chairs, trying in vain to snatch the pen from his hand.

“Give it to me! You’ve been here for hours!”

Aaron’s left arm stretched high into the air as he reclined in his seat, the pen in question entirely out of your reach.

You changed tactics, bracing yourself against the desk as you leaned forward and snatched his tie. You pulled it, tugging him toward you. Your lips crashed together, and you wound the tie around your fingers to keep him close to you.

Kissing Aaron never got old. He relaxed into you, leaning forward. His hands were warm on your face, his thumbs sweeping across your cheekbones. You could feel the pen resting against your skin between his index and middle fingers.

You brought your hand to his wrist, your thumb at his pulse point. It was always reassuring to know he was here and alive. But there was, of course, an ulterior motive.

When you slid your fingers up the side of his hand, you took the pen from between his fingers. You threw it over your shoulder and he laughed into your mouth. You pulled back and kissed his nose. He looked at you, and you looked back for a moment, the outside world forgotten.

Meanwhile, Dave had left his office, peering through the not-so-closed blinds and listening through the open door.

“How long were you planning to keep us in the dark, kids?”

You jumped apart, skittering to your feet and turning around. At attention, you heard Aaron sigh and slowly rise to his feet.

“Dave, I –“

Rossi waved him off with a wide smile. “No need. As long as I get to be in on it, I’ll drag the rest along as long as you’d like.”

He crossed the office and took your face in his hands, kissing you on both cheeks. At your left, he whispered in your ear. “Thank you for taking care of his heart.”

+++

“Oh, you are so busted.”

Aaron froze where he stood, closing the door to your hotel room. He grit his teeth and took a breath. “JJ –“

She sauntered up to him with a smug smile. When she reached his shoulder, she shoved him playfully, her façade breaking immediately. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m so happy for you.”

The corner of his mouth lifted in an almost-smile. “Thanks.”

Just then, you opened your door, holding his FBI windbreaker and fully expecting to sneak down the hall to his room. “Aaron, love, you forgot – fuck.”

JJ laughed. “For a pair of profilers, you two really suck at sneaking around.”

Your stomach dropped. “Do the others know?”

“I think Dave has picked up on a few things –“

Aaron shot you a look, but JJ was still looking at you.

“- and I think the rest of them are just hoping you’ll get your shit together.” She shrugged. “I’ll keep it under wraps – I’ve got money on another four months and I intend to rob Emily blind.”

You snorted, but Aaron grabbed your wrist – a warning.

Don’t tell her Dave knows, that touch said.

Just as Aaron predicted, she kept talking. “If you hold out for me, I’ll give you a third.” She raised her eyebrows and extended her hand to you.

“Deal,” you said.

She sighed, chuffed, and almost danced down the hallway. “See you later!”

+++

The ride home was quiet, with almost everyone asleep. Hotch was kicked back in one of the seats, his eyes closed, brow drawn, and arms crossed. You always tried to put yourself where you could see him, without getting too close.

Derek sat beside you, and you thought he was asleep, when –

“Are you gonna tell me what’s goin’ on between you and Hotch?”

You looked at him over your nose. “I don’t know what you’re referring to. You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

He removed his headphones entirely, keeping them around his neck. “Oh come on. You might be able to trick the rest of them, but not me.”

It was true. Derek was the one you had your eye on from the beginning, and Hotch had told you to remain especially vigilant around him.

When you didn’t say anything, Derek continued.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. You’re better at hiding it than he is.”

Your cheeks warmed, and a smile pulled at your lips. “Really?”

He nodded. “Hotch is a sucker when he’s in love. I saw it when I first met Haley, and I see it with you.

“I’ve got money on catching you guys next week, so let’s keep this on the low for now. I will, however, be very impressed if you manage to keep this under wraps much longer than that.” He shrugged. “If JJ wins, I’ll babysit Jack for a night so you guys can go out on a real date.”

You offered your hand, and he shook it once. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Morgan.”

He put his headphones back on, tipped his head back, and closed his eyes.

When you glanced up, Hotch’s eyes were watching, half-lidded. You knew he heard the whole thing. He gave you one of his smiles that wasn’t quite a smile and closed his eyes again.

+++

A few nights later, you all had plans to meet up at Dave’s for dinner. You and Aaron were there a little early and could take a few minutes to relax. You were curled up on the couch at Hotch’s side, his arms wrapped around you to pull you snug to his chest. Dave had a movie on – one of those loud action movies starring some famous bald guy with an iconic one-liner and a bad attitude.

You got so caught up in the movie you didn’t hear Spencer and Penelope arrive. By this point, you were halfway into Aaron’s lap, his cheek against your temple, and your fingers tracing patterns on the hand that rested on your hip.

“Oh. My. God.” Penelope stopped dead in her tracks, snatching Spencer’s sleeve.

At this point, it was just funny. You looked up at Aaron and laughed, tucking further into him. He kissed your forehead and looked up at them over your head.

“Where’d you have your money, Garcia?” He asked.

Penelope shrugged. “I’m out, I had three weeks ago, on the Nevada case.”

“I had a maximum of seven months, based on our last bought of big secret-keeping,” said Spencer. “So I’m out too. We’re going on eight months and five days, now. Emily’s up next, at the nine-to-nine-and-a-half month mark.”

They plopped down on the couch beside you, and you disentangled yourself from Aaron. Penelope glommed on to your arm. “What are we watching?”

+++

The end of the night found Dave, JJ, Derek, You, Aaron, and Penelope outlasting Emily, who graciously offered to drive Spencer home. You and Aaron were cleaning up in the kitchen, visible through the big window, while the rest of the team lounged by the firepit.  You sprayed Aaron with water from the sink, and he swatted you with a towel. Very few dishes were actually washed.

They couldn’t hear your laughter, but they saw it written all over your faces.

“So,” Derek started. “Who knew?”

They all shared a look for a moment before bursting into laughter. They realized the game you played was better than the one they thought.

“Who’s the only one who doesn’t?”

JJ smirked into her wine glass. “Oh, that would be Emily.”

Derek offered the neck of his beer bottle, and JJ clinked her glass against it. “How’d you manage that?”

“Nuh-uh. Not a chance. I don’t kiss and tell.” She winked at him.

+++

“Oh, goddamn it, you guys! You couldn’t have done this last month?” Emily threw her hands in the air.

She’d just pulled the kitchen divider curtain on the jet home from an exceedingly long case. When you last checked, everyone was fast asleep. Even then, though, you’d grown more lax in the off-hours – Emily’s bet had long since lapsed, and everyone else (who mattered) knew.

You sat on the counter, with Hotch leaning between your legs. He was making a cup of coffee, seemingly uninhibited by the obstacle of your body. Your phone was in one hand, and the other was resting casually on Aaron’s shoulder, playing with the hair behind his ear.

Aaron stood up straight, his coffee in his hand. With his usual deadpan, he took a sip and said, “Sin to win weekend is coming up, if you’re worried about your account balance.”

There was a snort from behind her, and you belatedly realized her exclamation had woken the rest of the team. JJ was already collecting cash from Dave and Derek. She ruffled Spencer’s hair on her way past him. Derek dialed Penelope, and almost immediately had to take the phone away from his ear to avoid premature deafness.

JJ stood before Emily with one hand on her cocked hip and the other extended palm up, right under Emily’s nose.

Emily scoffed and pulled out her wallet. “You suck.”

+++

Three Months Later

There was a knock on your door, and you smiled to yourself as you signed another document. “Come in.”

The familiar figure sat at the chair across from you, kicking up his feet like he owned the place. You didn’t look up from your work.

“Get your feet off my desk, Hotchner.”

He huffed, but the dress shoes disappeared from the polished surface. They were soon replaced by a pair of elbows and a set of ten laced fingers. 

It was nice to be back in CARD. A couple of people from the Critical Response Team had transferred out of the unit, leaving significant gaps in leadership. You were now the Special Agent In Charge for Northeast CARD operations and Deputy Unit Chief – duel positions that kept you mostly chained to your desk unless something went horribly awry.

There was no need for Aaron and you to sneak around anymore, but you missed it a little. A secret was a little exciting – something that was just yours.

But then again, that was the thing about love. It didn’t have to be exciting to make your chest feel too small for all the things you kept inside of it.

You finally looked up from your file, closing it and pushing it off to the side. Warm eyes met you across the desk.

“What can I help you with, Agent Hotchner?” Your tone was crisp and professional, but you reached for his hand, and he took it.

He rolled his eyes. “The team is going out tonight.”

“And?” You raised an eyebrow.

He stood without releasing your hand and rounded your desk, pulling you to your feet. “You’re coming with us.”

“I am?”

A tug and you were pulled flush against him. “Of course.”

“And after?”

“Jack’s with his grandparents for the weekend,” he said.

When you kissed him, you could feel his smile against your lips.

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @octothorpetopus @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls 

@vintagecaptainspidey @venusbarnesmb @writefasttalkevenfaster (thought this might be up your alley, but let me know i’ve im overstepping at all xo)

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #hotch #tali writes fanfiction

[rohondra]

Firsts || Izuku Midoriya

a/n: this is for another bnharem discord collab!! the prompt was “Pen Pals”. I’m pretty content with how this came out and I’m super excited to write a bit more considering I got a computer!! I’m hoping to do a pt2 hehe. god bless the people in my haikyuu server who swooped in and saved the day every time I had a brain far. 

rating: n*fw 18+

word count: just over 2k

warnings: virgin!Reader, daddy kink yes again ok I have a problem, FaceTime sex, mutual masturbation, big buff Izuku

all characters are aged up when I write and I take no credit for the images I post w said writings unless stated otherwise.

PLEASE CHECK OUT EVERYONES AMAZING FICS FOR THIS COLLAB!!!

A notification from the S.H.I.E.L.D. Field Office Discord server you were a part of popped up on your phone. It was an announcement that they would be randomly selecting pen pals as an event to get people more connected during this pandemic, of course you had the option to opt out, but the idea of doing something so “risky” excited you. You held your breath and reacted with a thumbs up, butterflies instantly flooding your stomach.

Just under an hour later one of the admins sent you a pm;

-Hey! Thanks so much for joining our penpals event. Social distancing is a pain in the ass, but hopefully this will lighten your spirits! We paired you with @/izuku#2485. Xx

Being the nosy son of a bitch you were, you immediately typed his user into the server and checked his activity within it- specifically the “#pictures” channel, but found nothing. Just as you were about to send him a friend request, you got a notification of another pm.. Oddly enough from him;

-Hi, we got paired for the penpal event! It’s okay if you don’t want to send your address to a complete stranger, I get it haha.

The butterflies returned as you pressed the request button, and immediately saw it change from “pending” to “send message”.

~Hi! If I’m honest it’s just my college address lol, nothing too risky.

-College huh? Me too. I was afraid you were going to end up being a minor and then I’d feel kind of weird ha. What school?

~Do not fear, I am in fact legal. Even if it is by 8 months lol. ASU! Yourself?

-Arizona huh? Interesting, I’m actually finishing my senior year at Iowa State.

Your stomach flipped, anxiety coursing through your veins at the last message. Senior?! What if this guy was like, 40?? No, it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t be living on campus at that age.. But he never specified he was living in a dorm. You closed Discord and moved onto what seemed to be the never ending flood of assignments, two of which were due that night.

A notification popped up on your computer mid essay;

-Don’t wanna be pushy. Here’s my address if you decide to write me.(:

You chewed at your bottom lip, weighing the consequences. It couldn’t be that bad of an idea right? He seemed nice, not pervy at all.. Fuck it.

“Hello! It’s your good old pal from the Marvel server. If I'm honest I'm not that good at these things, haha. This letter will be pretty short, but tell me- who’s your favorite Marvel character? Feel free to gush! I’m looking forward to hearing back from you.

From,

Y/N”

-

Two weeks later your RA slipped the envelope under your door, “MAIL!!!” she yelled before hurrying to the next room to deliver. Your heart fluttered as you opened it, admiring his clean handwriting;

“Hi. Alls good, I’m pretty awkward myself ha. My name is Izuku Midoriya! My friends call me Deku. Y/N is a nice name.

Honestly, it’s kind of cliche but Captain America has to be my favorite. I’m a bit of a Marvel junkie. I’ve seen every movie, have the entire Captain America comic series, own a Marvel Encyclopedia, plus almost every Marvel funko pop they’ve released.. Now that I think of it I’m definitely more than “a bit” obsessed ha. How about you? If it’s easier for you, you could just message me on discord.

-Izuku”

You giggled as you opened the app on your phone.

~Hi! I just got your letter. Seems to me you’re DEFINITELY obsessed lol but that’s okay, me too. I’m obsessed with Captain America. Chris Evans? *cheff kiss*”

-Hey. That’s so funny! I aspire to look like him one day haha. Taking it one day at a time, but this pandemic is making it difficult rip. You wanna add me on snapchat? I probably came off as some creepy perv ha. @/deku_zuku.”

From that point on, you two became OBSESSED with each other. Deku was an extremely gorgeous, freckled man with colored, fluffy green hair. You thought your sleep schedule was already fucked because of the pandemic? Sike, now it really was. You were staying up until 5am snapchatting him, interacting with him on discord, texting him, etc. You just couldn’t get enough of each other.

Your favorite snapchats from him were his post workout selfies. You loved the way his skin glistened, his muscular body littered in scars and freckles. More often than not you screenshot them and definitely got off to them, but you could never tell him that. It was embarassing to think about how most nights you laid in bed pumping a dildo inside of yourself desperately calling his name, imagining it was him fucking your tight virgin pussy.

As you were getting lost in imagining scenarios your phone began ringing, oh fuck he was FaceTimeing you.

You quickly sat up, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and setting your phone against a book for support before answering.

“H-hi! Sorry I wasn’t expecting you to FaceTime me ha.”

Izuku grinned ear to ear, “No I’m sorry! I should’ve asked first, but you look great so I mean.. No complaints from me with how you look.”

Red tinted your cheeks, “A-ah thank you. You’re pretty good looking yourself.”

Izuku’s eyes narrowed, “Did I catch you at uh- a bad time?”

You tilted your head in confusion, “No? I mean I was trying to catch up on some stuff but other than I wasn’t doing anything important.”

“Ha, that looks pretty important. You also look a little flushed.”

When your eyes followed his on your screen your cheeks immediately lit on fire and you shifted to cover the dildo you carelessly left on the parallel night stand.

“So that’s why you’ve been screenshotting my pictures huh? I never would’ve taken Y/n to be such a slut.” he smirked.

He could feel his cock begin weep at the sight, he couldn’t help but palm himself. What if you got off to him? Thinking about how your little moans might sound when they slip out of your mouth made his cock pulse, he wanted to make you moan. He wanted to be the reason you came undone.

You tried to defend yourself, slightly annoyed by the derogatory term he referred to you as, “I- no. It isn’t like th-”

He cut you off, his voice having dropped an octave, “It’s okay baby, tell me what you think about.. I wanna hear what gets you off with those pictures.”

Hands came up to cover your face, you felt like you were going to puke- this was too embarrassing. His screen went to “paused” and you heard shuffling from his end. Within seconds you received a picture of Izuku in the mirror, his large hand barely covering his erect penis and his shirt between his teeth. He chuckled, “How about now princess? What makes that pretty pussy tighten around your toy?”

Slick slipped from your previously abused cunt, he sounded so delicious and looked even more delicious. When you spoke, your voice came out as a squeak, “I-I uh, I can’t tell you! It’s embarrassing.” If you could light on fire, it would’ve already happened. In fact, you wish you could. If you’re lucky the entire dorm might catch ablaze as well so all evidence is ruined.

A deep chuckle echoed from your phone speaker, “Embarrassed? It’s not like you’re a blushing virgin baby.”

There was a pause as you lowered your hands, your nose scrunched from the humility and one eye shut, “.. And if I told you I was?”

Izuku felt his member pulse yet again, precum gliding from his slit. That almost sent him over the edge, there was no way someone as breathtaking as you hadn’t been with anyone. Fuck, he could take your innocence and ruin you for any other man. He could make you his own and have you milking his thick cock every night, screaming his name and begging for more.

A meak sigh pulled him from his fantasies as you spoke up, “Sorry if that makes me less appealing.” He was quick to follow up, “N-no. God no. That,” he sighed,” fuck that’s honestly hot.”

Boldness coursed through him as his hand lazily pumped his shaft, “That just means I can be all your firsts.. Here, give me a minute.”

Your heart sank for a minute when the FaceTime ended, but fluttered once again when another call from him came through. This time though, it was from his laptop. He smirked before rolling back in his computer chair, his cock twitching against his stomach anxious for attention.

Desire burnt within him at the sight of you, eyebrows raised and eyes enlarged with pupils blown while you licked your lips. Izuku couldn’t help as his hand encircled his shaft once again, “What is it you think about baby? Me kissing and licking all over your body? My fingers pumping in and out of you while my tongue plays with your nipple?” He began a generous pace of pumping himself before his next taunt, “Maybe my tongue playing with your clit?”

A soft moan fell from your lips as you nodded, “A-all of that. ‘Zuku c-can I please touch myself?” You gasped as you watched precum flow from his tip at your words. He nodded, “Please do.”

You sat back, lifting your hips just enough to slip your panties off, nervously looking at him. All caution was thrown to the wind when Izuku groaned, “Ah, be a good girl for me baby.”

You made sure your full body was in view before grabbing the toy and lowering it between your thighs, which were now covered in a thin layer of your arousal. Squeezing your eyes shut you opened your legs and gently pushed until the dildo was fully sheathed inside of you.

Opening your eyes you were greeted with the most sinful sight, Izuku Midoriya quickly gliding his hand up and down his cock with his chest heaving, his body sheen with sweat.  You let a high pitched moan, your name resonating slowly from his chest. With every thrust your wrist made, a coil began to form inside your belly, it all seemed so familiar but was far more exhilarating knowing that someone else was watching.

“Just think about when that’ll be my cock splitting you in half. Shit- close your eyes for me, start playing with your clit and imagine it's me.” You nodded in response, unable to form words.

Obeying his command, it felt like electricity struck you when your finger made contact. The coil was now fully formed and threatened to burst with every movement.

“I need to cum, p-please.”

“Yeah? Only if you beg for daddy to let you.” He smirked as he watched your thighs tense for a moment.

“A-ah.. please! Please let me finish. Please d-daddy, need to so bad.”

Izuku felt his orgasm quickly approaching with each shaky word spilling from your beautiful lips, “Yeah baby, you can cum now. Let me see the pretty faces you make.”

SNAP

You were gone, your body lost to the ocean of ecstacy ripping through you as you rode the waves of your release.

He sat forward, studying the way your face contorted and how your cunt sucked the toy in as far as possible. The thought of you milking the absolute hell out of his cock sent him over the edge, head thrown back with spurts of cum covering his beautifully toned chest and stomach.

Eyes twitched trying to focus from the intensity of your orgasm as you came down from euphoria.

As Izuku  began cleaning himself off he spoke up, “So you’ve genuinely never done that kind of stuff before?” You shook your head before sitting up to sling a large t-shirt over your body, “Nope, when I said I was a virgin I mean like V I R G I N.”

He shook his head and chuckled, “Crazy. I have some assignments I need to do, if you want you could keep me company?”

You pulled a pillow under your chin and hugged it.  “I have some work to do too, so I guess that’ll work.” You giggled. He twirled a pen between his fingers before bringing it up to chew on, “And once we call it quits for the evening, how about we check off some more ‘firsts’ for you?”

#bnha smut #bnharem collab #midoriya izuku #reader x izuku #reader x midoriya #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #ro writes

[bethanysnow]

Red Empress.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4nKqslNcYAE&t=1762s

(Inspired by above playlist)

“-And who are you?” 

    “OH HI YOU ARE REAL!?” The ‘hero’ yelled in shock. 

“Yes, I’m real. And what do you want? You interrupted me watching British Bake off…” 

    “..wait, you’re not gonna...shoot me? With like, a freeze ray, or cut my head off. Send dogs after me, none of that?” 

“...Do you want me to hero?” 

    “NO! I uh I mean no. Ma’am-” 

“Then what the fuck do you want…I am busy.” 

The hero looked up to a woman similar to what he had expected. She had black hair, wore gold jewelry, and glasses sat on her nose. But the person in front of him? The Terror of the 9 Hells, Dante’s Apprentice, The Red Empress? Wasn’t there. She had a grey cardigan on, yoga pants. She looked down at the little hero with disdain and an air of condescension. Like he was trying to sell her girl scout cookies and doing a bad job at it. The hero looked at his research. Scribbled into a composition notebook was the address of what he thought was the evil lair to the greatest supervillain of their era.

    “I am a future hero, or I want to be-” She raised a hand, cutting him off. 

“-So you came down to my apartment, which by the way is super creepy. How you got my address I do not know. Then decide to knock on my door. Knowing who I am, you still did so. Did you think this was a good idea?” Slightly amused look fixed onto her face. 

    “No, I don’t think it was a good idea. But I need to know.” He said with all the sincerity in his heart. “My grandma, she loves you. Has some of your newspaper clippings on her wall. She won’t shut up about you. Saying ‘there weren’t any more good heroes today’. Google just showed me all your recent stuff about how bad you are. You disappeared for like...10 years. Then came back a villain.”   

She looked him over. Grabbed his notes out of his hand despite his protests. Flipping through pages she takes a red pen from behind her ear and starts writing in his book. Once she hands it back, it's annotated. Edited. Like how a teacher reviews a paper from a student. Leaning on the doorway she looks into the hall. 

“Kay-” Standing back up on her feet she opens the door all the way pushing him in. “-You get until my episode of Bake off is done. C’mon kid.” Grabbing a fistful of his hoodie she leads him to her living room. 

The apartment looked over all of Manhattan. Marble floors, red plush furniture. Bookshelves dotted with ‘souvenirs’. Some he recognized as heroes' weapons and memorabilia. A stone head looked in fear out into the room. The head was of the previous ‘supervillain’ from the 50s. A silver glove with runes carved into the surface glowed as the hero passed. A gun from the ‘Manhattan Mad Hatter’. A drugged out ultra-rich chemist who made it his mission to destroy and flatten everything from here to Tokyo in the 00’s. 

“You want to talk, kid, or do you wanna look at the knick knacks?” 

    “Right!” He blurted, going to the couch next to her. A small brown dachshund curled into a ball on her lap. “Where did you go for ten years?” 

“Rehab, Therapy for a bit. Um, Austria. Russia for a while. Went to Tasmania. Seattle. Mainly Rehab though-” 

    “-For ten years?” 

She smirked. “You try being a hero for 30 some odd years and not have a drug problem. The 60s and 70s everyone was...disposed. In something. Or someone. There was always a cult to join, doctrine to follow, party to go to. Lots of those Heroes from the glory days died from cocaine, or other drugs. The cops shot the bodies so they could report that they died in the line of fire.” A dark and far away quality clouded her eyes. “-10 years for rehab after seeing your friends, coworkers, freaks of nature you got to call family die? Sounds reasonable to me. I spent the 80s in a fog. God knows what I really did.” 

    “Oh....” 

She scoffed. “Yea- oh! They don’t tell ya that in history class do they?” 

    “No, Ma’am…” 

“Thought as much.” 

    “You were a hero though! Post WWII there were comics, radio stations, songs, all praising you. Some I saw where you punched a Nazi and went for ice cream after. Don’t take this the wrong way please. I would like to get home today, but you look like you’re in your 30s. You should be 90 somethin” 

“That I did do- but ya. And who said I wasn’t 90 somethin? You ever hear that fuckin super solider bullshit? They made Rogers and Bucky do? Where did you think the research was tested? They had to go from somewhere and I dunno...I had the day off.” She shrugged. Her face flickered with rage when mentioning the previous heroes. “And look where it got them, Steve is dead, and Bucky is off with some fuckin retirement bullshit. At least I didn’t retire! I got a job to do, I got taxes to pay.” 

    “...you pay taxes????” The boy looked at her very confused. 

“I am a villain, not an asshole.” 

She started to pet her dog, them nuzzling into her hand. 

    “So you became a villain- came back in 2000. Crashed the Met Gala. Stole the artifacts on display. Crashed a car. Set fire to buildings- why?” 

“Ah- the age old question.-” She looked at him. Took a minute of silence with her. The air slowly left the room he felt. Under the steely gaze of the most deadly woman in the world. 

“I got tired. Of being owned, propped up, posed, told what to say. The Hero's Union, a committee of people ‘sworn to protect the sanctity of Heroes’ and what they represent and fight for’ never was actually there for us. Type casted us into America's sweetheart, Funny side character. Big strong hero to save the day. Every interview I ever did as a ‘hero’ was never my actual words. I would have been a fuckin amazing actress I’ll give ya that. Smile and tell the people watching not to panic. Not to worry. Us ‘Hero’s got it handled. We were let to suffer unbeknownst to the general public. ‘Lady Justice’? She was 5 months pregnant and the Union wouldn’t let her stop the missions. She ended up having a miscarriage due to stress and what they were putting her body through. It's not just her, it's everyone.” 

    “So why not just quit? If it was that bad, go on strike or something.” 

“That's easy for you civilians to say. You can strike when you work a normal 9 to 5. You can quit your job. You can move on. But as I said, little hero. I was out there for 30 somethin years. Punching Nazis, saving people. Being a Hero. When you are made basically immortal and are a freak of nature- there are things you learn you cannot do anymore. I can’t drive a car. I can’t work out without all the machines sparking out on me and breaking. No one wants to hire a freak now do they? There is no ‘pensioners plan’ for elderly heroes.” 

    “I guess not…You don’t seem all that Villainous to me though.” He says with a giant smile on his face. Ever the optimist. 

She rolled her eyes, focusing on her show. 

He looked closer at her face. Grey eyes with blue flecks. Slightly salt and peppering at the sides. She looked strong, obvious defined biceps and calves. Her neck and arms were covered in scars. A long scar ran from her forehead down her face leading in a curve to her jaw on one side. The red pen stuck behind her ear. Big 70s aviator glasses. Before he knew what was happening his hands were bound behind his back and his face was being pressed into the cold floor. She had not changed her position. 

“You keep staring at me kid things will go badly for you.” She spoke not looking away from the TV in front of her. “-I don’t look evil, sure. But I will ask you.” 

“What does ‘Evil’ look like? I was once a hero too.”

#Original work #story #creative writing #marveloc #Superhero #Superheros #Marvel #DC #OC #Red Empress

[annaofthenorthernlights]

Driving licence

Kristanna Modern AU fanfiction

Spontaneous idea popping up in my brain´s headcanon department when spotting a driving school car a few days ago... Enjoy! 😉

Rating: G

Word counting: 2064

Note: I refer to the driving examinations as they are practiced in Germany, Europe – so this might happen somewhere in Mid Germany…

Anna Arendelle was nervous. She must pass this test. Her family would decapitate her if she failed. It was embarrassing enough, that as a daughter of the well-respected car industrial family, she had not yet made it to the driving licence. Anna had recently celebrated her 21st birthday and her father had stated that it was about time for her to line up in family business. He compared it like her being a butcher´s daughter, but living vegetarian…

So, here she was now, waiting in front of the state vehicle inspection center in Wernigerode, for the examiner to join them. Matthias, her driving instructor, reminded her sincerely of driving slowly and watching the road signs. Then, she would be fine. Yes, she would, she was determined. After all, she had been brilliant at the theory test. She would handle this with graciousness and gallant routine. Oh dear, she needed to seek the toilet a last time. But there was not time. Hold it!

There was not time to muse any longer, when a tall blond man emerged from the building, stepping up to them. Anna could hear Matthias letting out a deep breath and quickly he whispered one more time to her ear, “slowly Anna, I beg you, drive slowly!”

“Anna Arendelle?”

“Yes.”

“Hi. Kristoff Bjorgman. I´m your examiner. Hi Matthias, how are you doing?”

“Good day, Kristoff. Thank you, alright. It´s a lovely day for a nice drive, isn´t it?”

So, Matthias seemed to know the big guy with the most wonderful brown eyes Anna had seen before in her life. She forced herself not to stare at him. Gosh, what Greek god was working here at this boring and torturing place?

The Greek god was not the pleasure type. He simply replied dryly, “shall we?”

When they had all taken their seats in the driving school car and had fastened their seatbelts (Matthias behind her), Mr. Bjorgman explained to Anna the procedure of the next 45 minutes. He would announce in time if she had to change directions. The manoeuvres would be asked in a safe place and if she had a question, she should ask. There was no reason to worry. All she had to do was to show her capability of handling the road and surrounding traffic.

Okay, he seemed kind and patient. She could do this! Stop staring at the man….

She had checked the mirrors and was ready to set off.

“Alright Miss Arendelle, please make your way out of the parking lot and at the main road you turn in direction of Elbingerode.” Should she secretly call him Eros? Concentrate!...

Anna started the engine and drove VERY slowly through the parking area. At the main road, she halted the car and elaborately checked the road, the mirrors, the road, the road sign, the road, the mirrors... A quiet clearing of throat came to her ears from the right, and the man clicked his pen and put down some note. Oh dear, he was displeased already…

Anna had made her way onto the main road and was now driving into the direction of Elbingerode. So far, so good. She prayed that the traffic today would have mercy on her and there were no great troubles at left turns at any crossing.

So, they would drive for a while like this. Some red lights. Some turns. Nothing severe. After another while, Anna started to feel more at ease and Matthias behind her seemed relaxed. It gave her a good feeling and for some reason, though she would not realise it, she started to increase her speed.

“Miss Arendelle, what road are we on?”

Why would he ask? He had told her to drive that way…

“Ehm… On the main road in direction to Helmstedt.”

“Yes, and what speed limit would be required in town?”

“50 km/h…. Oh dear, I´m sorry. “…. The speedometer showed 60 km/h… Not good, not good… Concentrate!

At some point, they left the town centre and came into a living area. She had to slalom the road-calming structures and watch the entering streets. All was calm and Anna felt safe, just driving on. She had not realised having missed d a “no right of way” sign and happily drove on.

“Excuse me, Miss. Have you not seen the sign?”

“What sign?” Anna was confused, what was it now?

“The ´no right of way´ sign? You just crossed the road without even checking, nor slowing down!” Mr. Bjorgman seemed bewildered. Upsie….

“Ehm, no… Sorry… But luckily there was nothing coming, was there?” She chuckled nervously and tried to look very concentrated and serious about her mission, when she noticed the clicking sound of the pen scrabbling on the protocol board…

When they finally left town, the traffic lessened, and the road lay open before them. Anna enjoyed the free feeling without trucks and other cars in front or pushing from behind her. And now she was allowed to speed up (to 100 km/h).

“Please take the autoroute in direction of Blankenburg. So, she did and increasing the speed up to 120 km/h was even better. Anna started to hum a tune and relax in her seat just a bit more. After a few minutes, she got asked to leave the autoroute again and head back towards Wernigerode on the state road.

Outside town there was a lovely Drive-in that signed “Luigi´s Pizzeria – rasten und feiern” (rest and feast). There Anna was meant to park the car, frontways, sideways, and backways. She had to adjust the wheels once or twice (which was basically allowed).

Another quest was the full stop performance and the start at the hillside.

Back at the parking lot of the vehicle inspection center, Anna turned off the engine and pulled the hand break. They all emerged from the car and Matthias slightly shook his head when Anna quickly exchanged a look. Her hopes sank below zero…

“Well, Miss Arendelle,” Mr. Bjorgman started, “what do you think how you´ve done?”

“Ehm… I don´t know. I guess I did great with the manoeuvres. Otherwise, I felt pretty safe at handling the tasks that got asked of me.”

Kristoff Bjorgman seemed to consider his words, but then he stated the things the way they were.

“You´re right. Your manoeuvring was good, and I mark those as passed and sufficiently performed. But about your driving manner… I´m sorry but I cannot confirm your passing the test today. You were too fast at most of the time. You crossed a junction without checking nor slowing down. You passed a bus line, that was not allowed. You head towards the traffic lights too fast. You need to control your speed. I´m sorry. So, next time, all you´ll have to do is prove your controlled driving. You won´t need to repeat the manoeuvres. Alright?”

No, she was not alright. Tears mingled behind her eyes, but she would blink them away with force. After all, he had not screamed at her any words of stupidity. That, she would hear later, she was aware of that… No. Kristoff Bjorgman did not even know her. He had done his job. And it wasn´t his fault that she had been driving like a moron today.

“Thank you, Mr. Bjorgman. I will do that.”

*****

2 weeks later…

Anna and Matthias waited again in front of the inspection center. Some other young man was waiting a bit further down the parking lot and Anna felt sorry for him, just as she did for herself. Maybe she got lucky, and Kristoff Bjorgman would be her examiner again. She would prove to him that she had learned and was a fully capable and respectable traffic member.

The examiner was someone different. Mr. Oaken looked like he had just dropped out of a comic movie or something alike. He seemed a funny chap. But still, Anna was determined to prove her seriousness today.

Again, they had all taken their seats and ready to start. Mr. Oaken had asked her to start the same way as she had last time. All she would have to do today, was to drive nicely and show her control of speed management throughout the drive.

Anna had just started the engine, checked the mirrors one last time, had pulled out of her parking lot, and was about to drive slowly towards the exit. It had been a mere instant, but in the corner of her eye she had spotted a blond head. And when she dared a quick glance, she noticed the young examiner standing on the pavement, looking at her while lifting his hand and smiling briefly. He has seen you and wishes you good luck!!!...

Anna´s foot slipped, and she strangled the engine.

It was so embarrassing. She had whispered a short “sorry”, and hurried to get the way out of there… But slowly, all slowly of course!

After another 45 minutes, the nightmare was over and Mr. Oaken seemed pleased with what he had witnessed. That was it. Anna had passed and got to hold her driving licence.

But Eros was not there to congratulate her…

*****

Kristoff had checked the list of driving students in the morning and had spotted her name at once. It was a good thing, that Olaf Oaken was going to be her examiner. He would do her good. Better than he had done. Kristoff had learned in all this time of his job, not to connect to much with the driving students. It was his job to check out their capability to handle the car, the traffic and if possible both at the same time.

But it had been different with Anna Arendelle. He had no idea why that was so. It was not her name, he was sure. Kristoff did not pay much attention to famous names. A driving student was a driving student at test, no matter where they came from. It was Kristoff´s opinion that nobody should feel in a position to actually “buy” his driving licence. And apparently, Anna had been upset about herself, not about him. She had not misused her family name to force him of giving his consent. She had taken his remarks and now she was here again to have another try. For some reason, he really hoped she would make it.

Now, he sat in the car with this other young man, and he could not help but think of her. He had felt so bad when she had strangled off the engine before. Apparently, she had been distracted. His fault. Olaf had just grinned. He was a witty guy, that one. Surely, he would not scold her for this little failure.

When he returned, Anna and Matthias had left already. He felt somewhat disappointed...

*****

A few days later, Kristoff waited at the bus stop, while his car was at the repair shop.

Suddenly a nice green VW Golf slowed down and pulled right into the bus stop lot. A broad grinning red head leaned over and let down the passenger´s window. Kristoff could not help but grin back at the familiar face.

“I know, I know,” Anna exclaimed, “it´s not allowed to park on the bus stop lot. But I´d say this is not parking, while I have still the engine running. I just spotted you standing there and thought… well… Can I give you a lift?”

Kristoff laughed and accepted the invitation. And even before he had fastened his seat belt, the little Golf drove off with a swift flow, needling back into the flowing traffic.

“So, congratulations to your passed examination. I have seen Olaf Oaken´s remarks. Not bad, I must say.”

“Thank you,” Anna stated, while checking the mirrors and concentrating on the road.

They drove for a while and then Anna asked, shrugging her shoulders. “So, where are we going?”

Kristoff felt a light flash in his chest. Why would that be so? Alright, he was no examiner at that moment. Or was he? Was he may be interested in connecting with this young lady for another reason? So, for a moment and for a change, he felt like being at her mercy now… But he would risk it!

“What about the Drive-in, outside town. You remember “Luigi's Pizzeria”? We could have a drink, or dinner if you like and if you have time in the first place?”

“Sounds lovely!”

#fanfiction #my fanfic #Kristanna #Modern AU #Germany #Driving examination #Anna #Kristoff

[linkispink1995]

Better as friends (16) A date?

Previously

Series Masterlist

Chapter warnings :language , fluff with a bit of angst and Steve losing his mind , minor mentions of smut

~~~~~~

It was early Saturday morning when I was getting Jackson ready as well as myself since after dropping Jackson off I would be headed towards the wedding of my two dear friends Alex and Paige. The wedding was supposed to be set last fall but Paiges mother fell I'll which was absolutely devastating to Paige and everyone since Ms. Bryant raised paige alone. After looking at the clock I knew that I would have to drop him off in the dress I would be wearing since I was running a but late (as always) and I knew that what I was wearing would spark conversation and the dress was anything but casual and hells and makeup weren't serving a 'this is a casual outfit'. The most awkward part was I knew Steve wasn't invited and I knew that because of Steve practically torchering Paige , Alex and my other best friend Stewart. Who's was going to be my to my date for the wedding , that was the other thing chewing at me having to look at Steve and not tell him about the wedding. My thoughts were interrupted by my five year old who was sitting on my bed saying "are you ready yet" I shook my head saying "give me two minutes I just got to find this other earring amd your still in your pajamas so go get dressed please". He sighed before leaving his room to enter mine , when he came back dressed he spoke again saying "hey momma" I nodded while continuing to search my jewelry box before he added "I like the picture on the fridge" I turned to him saying. "What picture sweet pea" had rolled his eyes , my five year old son just rolled his eyes at my oh my god was he already turning into his father. Jackson then grabbed my hand before guiding us to the kitchen and there on refrigerator was the picture if him and Steve crammed in that little tub. I sighed saying "damnit Robin" I then looked at the clock realizing we were no longer a little late we were really late.

I knocked on the door of his apartment still trying to think of how to explain why I looked like this and not sound like a complete idiot and hoping , more like praying that Steve opened the door and not Alison. Luck must've been on my side since Steve opened the door with a shock face before saying "hi" I responded saying "hi". I then pecked Jackson cheek before having to lick my thumb to wipe the smudge off pink lipstick. Steve spoke again saying "you look nice" I nodded saying "thanks" before I could say my goodbyes and leave Steve added. "Where are you off too" crap what was I going to say but I didn't have to say anything because Jackson did "Aunt Paige and Uncle Alex are getting married". I sighed before seeing Steve's face turn from shock to sadness from not being invited "oh" he said "where's that at" I responded saying "at Alex's grandmother's house , it's outside so-" he cut me off saying. "Do you have a sweater or something cause it'll get cold at night" I shook my head saying "no I'm fine I-" Steve again cut me off saying "well do you at least know where your going" I nodded as he added "and you have gas in your car" I again nodded before he asked "so are you going to be okay going alone" before I could respond Jackson again took the liberty of doing so saying "mommy's going with Uncle Stewart , didn't you know that". Steve's face turned into a mixture of red and pink before saying "no , no son I didn't he then squealed "Stewart wow that's wow , good that , that is good wow" I nodded as he added "what's he been up to". I answered his question this time saying "he writes the comics for the newspaper" Steve again nodded before nervously chuckling saying "wow yeah" I then noticed that he had the look of someone was going to be sick. I then looked at Jackson before saying "okay I'm gonna go you be good he nodded before I could walkd down to my car Steve spoke saying "Y/n" I nodded as he added "your only wearing one earring" I huffed before walking back down to my car.

I arrived to the house with minutes to spare before taking a seat next to Robin before she said "hey where have you been" I responded saying "I got busy talking to Steve and lost track of time". She nodded saying "well your boyfriends in the bathroom" I scoffed saying "Stewart isn't my boyfriend" Robin shook her head saying "sure but isn't this like date number five" I rolled my eyes before saying "you look nice". Robin sighed saying "thanks I couldn't talk Paige into letting me wear Jean's though and this was a nice pair Y/n I mean there were less rips in these". I shook my head before feeling a kiss on my cheek , I then turned to see Stewart whom I returned the gesture to by kissing his cheek saying hi" he responded saying "hi" he then kissed my exposed shoulder before saying "you look beautiful" I nodded as the music started up and we were all to stand before I looked to see Robin making these awful vomiting facial expressions. Causing me to elbow her , as we returned to sitting down Stewart spoke again saying "are you okay" I nodded as he added "you sure" I nodded again before leaning my head on his shoulder. When Pauge and Alex were announced husband and wife we entered the house for the reception. Before we entered Robin ditched Stewart and I to look for Helen who was practically her girlfriend but Robin liked to say that she was better than labels. As Stewart and I began talking about various things like work and Jackson (mostly Jackson) I felt my feet leave the ground before turning to see it was Alex. I sighed before giving him a hug and congratulating him before Paige walked over as well I again congratulated her before she spoke saying "where's Jackson" I sighed saying "he's with Steve" she then added "oh and hows everything with him is he still with Dracula" I responded saying "yes Paige he is still with Alison" she sighed before saying "hey you guys made it". I turned to see Matt and Coleen who was now five months pregnant and starting to show and recently announced that they would be having a girl. After greeting Matt and Coleen I felt Stewart's arm tug onto mine before leading me on the dance floor. As we started to sway I couldn't help but think about what a perfect day this had been and how I felt more hopeful and more joy than I usually did and I knew why that was it was Stewart.

Steve's P.o.v

It was hours after Y/n left and I couldn't help but pace around the dinning room table thinking about how the hell Y/n and Stewart made sense. The little asshat who used to be my best friend until I got on the basketball team and became popular. Stewart Graham I couldn't belive that Stewart Graham does that , she's the love of my oh my god what am I saying. So I have Alison and Y/n has you know I can't even finish that sentence and I can't even think about Alex and Paige not invited me to there wedding I mean sure I was kind of awful to them but will still used to be friends and I introduced them to each other well I mean it was Y/n's idea but- my thoughts were disturbed by Alison clapping her hands at me saying "Steven" I looked up saying "what" she responded saying "are you okay" I nodded saying "fine yeah but , nevermind". Alison huffed saying "what have I told you about saying that" I nodded saying "fine okay I just can't believe she's going out with Stewart on a date I mean" Alkson sighed saying "okay I'm lost who are you talking about" I responded saying "I had these friends Alex and Paige and uh they hot married today-" I was then interrupted by Alison saying "why didn't we go" I sighed saying. "I'm not really friends with them anymore anyways I had this other friend Stewart and now Y/n went to the wedding as his date which doesn't make since cause we've known each other since we were in kindergarten and he's never once show interest in her". Alison rolled her eyes saying "who cares and besides he probably did and you were in the way" I sighed before she added "and besides how come you never take me out" I responded saying "I do I-" Alison cut me of saying "no you used to and maybe Y/n's better off with someone like him instead of a never mind".

I was lying in bed that night while Alison who was besides me was sitting up and reading ome of her books for school when I spoke saying. "Do you think she got home safe" Alison shrugged saying "who" I responded saying "Y/n" she then slammed her book before saying "yes Steve she's probably fine". I then added "but do you think I should call her and make sure" Alison rolled her eyes before saying "I doubt she's home" I shrugged saying "what do you mean" she sighed saying. "Oh Steve your not that dumb she's probably saying with Stewart tonight" she then started laughing to herself before I spo,e saying "that's not funny Alison" she continued saying "they way you described her talking about him sounds like she was drooling plus he sounds pretty cute". I rolled my eyes before she leaned over to her nightstand saying "or I could just see for my self" my jaw fell when I saw her holding one of my highschool yearbooks. I shook my head saying "where did you find that" she responded saying "underneath your bed with a stack dirty magazines which will talk about later and some rusty old baseball bat covered in nails" I shook my head again saying "and what were you even looking for". She responded saying "a red pen you are a grown man who dosen't own a red pen" I rolled my eyes as she added "I bet Y/n dosen't run into these kinda problems with Stewart" I could feel my blood boil at those words but I shrugged it aside knowing it was one date and then I'd never have to hear the name Stewart again , right...

Feedback is appreciated , stay safe and let me know what your thoughts were and please don't plagiarize my work.

Taglist @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @queenofthehairharrington @charmed-asylum

#steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #dad steve harrington #dad! steve x reader #steve harrington au #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x fem!reader

[imagines-dreams]

First Meeting(s) - Tom Holland Imagine

Rating: G

Warnings: meet-cute, budding feelings

Summary: Stacy, an intern at Stark Industries, is told to give Peter Parker some pictures from his Germany “trip.” / You are auditioning for the role of Stacy in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. During your last callback, you have to do a chemistry read with Tom Holland.

Word Count: 1774

Notes: So this might be a series??? Idk, I had an idea, I ran with it. Sorry if it’s a mess, also I wrote this for a poc!reader, but I’m not sure if I mentioned anything specific

~ - ~

You smiled. “Hi, I’m looking for Peter Parker. I was told he’d be here for Academic Decathlon practice.”

The young man nodded. “Yes, he’s right over there.”

“He might quit though!” One of the girls shouted. “You never know.”

“He did quit band,” another one added. When everyone looked at her with knowing eyes, she only raised an eyebrow. “I’m observant.”

You tilted your head. “What can you observe about me then?”

She tilted her head and looked you up and down. “Type A, private school, intern.”

“You can call me Stacy.”

“Michelle.”

“Anyway, Peter?”

“That’s, uh, me. I’m Peter.” He looked shorter in pictures. His layers of clothing hid the superhero muscle you knew was underneath. His backpack was on the floor, and if anyone stared closely enough, it wasn’t a standard backpack. It wasn’t the patches or the pins that made it special. No, it was the plastered web fluid on the corner, perhaps from a misfire or leftover from when he webs it to walls. 

You cleared your throat and as you walked to Peter you purposely brushed your foot against the misplaced webs to smear it, turning it effectively into a smudge or stain. 

You handed Peter the folder. “Ms. Potts told me to give this to you.”

“Ms. Potts?” Peter took the folder and smiled at it. “What is it? Why-”

“Pictures,” you said. “From the last intern conference.”

He blinked a few times, and for a split second, you could see Peter’s face contort in confusion. There was no such thing as a Stark intern conference. With one look at you and your tale-telling expression, he nodded. “Yeah, yeah the, uh, conference, that I was at. With you, of course. Cause you’re also an intern.”

“Yes, in the research department,” you helped.

“Yeah!” He laughed. “And I met you at the conference...”

You laughed. “Stacy.”

“Right, Stacy. I remember that.”

You laughed. “You know, for a Stark mentee, you have pretty bad memory.”

“I’m just trying my best.” Peter shrugged.

“Hey, it’s all good. We all are.” You leaned in close to whisper. “You might wanna not leave webs on your backpack, though.”

Peter’s eyes widened. He leaned down and whispered back, “You, uh, saw webs on my backpack? That’s, I mean, that’s insane.”

“Mhm.” You tilted your head. “Mr. Stark told me about what you do for your internship.” Peter Parker held his breath, but you just smiled. “Helping out at the Avengers Compound must be exciting.”

“You know, you don’t have to help Parker,” another boy said, a smug smirk on his face. “We know his Stark internship is boring as hell. Not to mention, he’d probably never meet any of the Avengers.”

“Hm.” You hummed and held out your hand. Peter put the envelope in your hands. “Do you mind, Peter?”

“Not really. What are you-”

You opened the envelope and grabbed the first picture. A printed picture of Peter with Black Widow. She was staring at the camera, clearly amused by Peter’s attempt to get a selfie with her. As you suspected, Peter wasn’t in the suit. It was after whatever happened in Berlin. So, his eye was forming a bruise, if you looked very closely, but he had this infectious smile, so it was easy to overlook. 

Almost. You couldn’t believe that the kid you just met, that stuttering, clumsy kid, was Spider-Man. How could a fifteen-year-old do all this? Sure, you had a similar-ish schedule. But your internship was in the research department. You reviewed simple calculations and offered an idea or two. Sometimes, you got to see Ms. Potts walk through the hallways. She said hi to you once.

You squealed when she left.

Those were your exciting moments. 

Peter’s exciting moments was fighting other superheroes and chasing bad guys and swinging through New York.

You glanced at Peter. That kid with a nervous smile was really something.

“Black Widow?!” screeched the kid with that smug look on his face. Well, he had a smug look on his face. It dropped when he saw that Peter really had met the Avengers. He reached out for the envelope, but you pulled them away and handed them back to Peter. “Sorry, here you go.”

He laughed. “That was amazing.”

“It was nothing.” You glanced at that annoying kid, and you couldn’t help but giggle that escaped your lips. “Plus, that was really satisfying, not gonna lie.”

“Still,” Peter insisted, “I could never do that.”

You scoffed. “Please! I know you do braver things.” 

He laughed and looked around, as if trying to hide the fact that his cheeks were turning a slight pink. “I, uh, I mean… not with that.” He shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

You nudged him. “Hey, don’t worry about it. But, if you ever wanna talk, they call me Stacy. And I intern in the labs at Stark Tower. My boss is really nice and lets me take breaks when I need it, or if a friend visits.”

Peter nodded. “I might swing by.”

Your jaw dropped. “Did you just-” You hit him again. “I hate you. I rescind my offer.” You picked up your things. 

Peter laughed. “Hey, what? That was uncalled for! Stace!”

You laughed. “See ya, Peter.” You saluted him with two fingers and left for your internship. Couldn’t leave precious biotech sims and cell cultures by themselves after all.

~ - ~

Tom was stunned for a moment. You were good. You held this confident air around you when you played Gwen. Sure, other girls have too, but you did it with such grace. At that moment, he could see the entire franchise’s span with him and you on the posters. Sure, you didn’t look like the Gwen Stacy from the comics, but you were her in every sense. Sharp, clever, graceful, kind. 

Your eyes met his. When Tom didn’t say anything, you looked through the script. “Sorry, is it my line?”

“No!” He cleared his throat. “Uh, you did a great job.”

You sighed. “Oh, good.” You laughed. “Thank you. You did a great job, too.”

“Alright, thank you, (Y/n). If you got the part, you should get a call from us within the next two weeks.”

You nodded. “Thank you so much for the opportunity.” You shook hands with Sarah Finn and Jon Watts. Then, you smiled at Tom and held out you hand. “And it was nice meeting you, Tom.”

“Yeah, yeah, you too.” He shook your hand. “Hopefully, we can see each other soon.”

“Definitely.”

Just as you approached your car, the man you played opposite of ran outside of the building and called your name. 

You rubbed your tired eyes and smiled. “Yes?”

“Sorry, uh,” Tom stuttered as he tried to catch his breath. You assumed it was from running, but in truth, the actor was just trying to compose himself long enough to talk to you without sounding like an incoherent mess. So, Tom shook his head and stood up straight. “Sorry, I just forgot to ask for your number.”

You blinked a few times. “Right. Of course, you need my number.” He did not need your number, but you were too tired, and perhaps you were supposed to swap numbers. It must’ve slipped your mind. He handed his phone to you, and you typed in your number. 

“Uh, thanks. So sorry about that,” Tom apologized again.

You shrugged. “No problem. It’s nice meeting you.” You laughed. “Again.”

“Yes. Lovely meeting you.” He smiled. “Well, I can’t keep you. Have a nice day.”

“You, too.”

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, much after the two-week deadline, did you realize that Tom was too fit to be out of breath from a very short run. So, that meant there was another reason why the actor wasn’t his calm self. He did gaze at you after the scene had finished. Was it possible…

No. It wasn’t. And even if it was, it didn’t matter. You weren’t going to see him again.

And even if you and he crossed paths again for another project or for an awards show, you were both actors. Cameras and gossip magazines took your privacy away. It’d be too complicated. So, no use in thinking about it.

Your phone rang. The area code was familiar. Maybe it was another open audition. You answered, “Hello, (Y/n) (Y/l/n) speaking,” and grabbed your planner just in case.

“Hi, it’s Tom.”

“Oh, hi!” You smiled widely at the sound of his voice. When you realized it, you pursed your lips. “Uh, what is it?”

“I just wanted to congratulate you!”

Congratulate you? On what? 

The pen fell from your hands. He couldn’t mean. You hadn’t received a call from the casting director. Or your agent yet. “Congratulate me?” you gasped.

“Oh, uh, check your messages.”

“My what?”

“Check your texts. I sent you something.”

You opened his text to find a link. You clicked on it. It read, “The New Cast of Spider-Man: Homecoming - What We Know”. First, a paragraph on Tom Holland and his reprise of his role as Spider-Man. Then, Zendaya who was casted but no details on the person she plays. Jacob Batalon playing Ned, RDJ playing Tony Stark, Marisa Toomes as Aunt May, Jon Favreau as Happy Hogan, and then your name. 

“New and upcoming actress, (Y/n) (Y/l/n) has been cast, but little is known about the character she will play. While Laura Harrier has been confirmed to be Liz Allen, the popular teenager Peter can’t stop thinking about, there is no indication of whether or not (Y/l/n) will be a major character in the film.”

“I got the part,” you whispered. You were cast. That meant that you were given the role you auditioned for. Oh god, you were going to be Stacy!

“I got the part!” you screamed.

“Yeah, you did!” Tom shouted. “Congratulations! You deserve it!”

“Oh my god!” You laughed and shouted, “I’m Gwen Stacy!”

Tom laughed. “Sh!” he teased. “Spoilers!”

You pressed your hand against your chest as if that could calm your racing heart. “Oh, god, I can’t believe this.”

“Really? Your audition was perfect.” He sighed. “I can’t wait to start working with you.”

Working with Tom Holland, the new Spider-Man. It was a dream come true. It didn’t matter how he looked at you when your scene was done or how handsome he was, you were going to part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, with an amazing leading man and cast. No matter what happened, this was going to change your life. 

With a dreamy smile, you admitted, “I can’t wait either.”

~ - ~

Am I posting this super late? Yes. Do I have any idea what to do from here? Kinda??? I mean, I don’t even know if this is a good idea, or something from my tea-infused, late-night brain, so very sorry if this sucks. I may or may not continue it. If you want me to write more (I have no clue why you would), please give me ideas??? maybe???

Anyway, thanks for reader, and have a wonderful day, readers!

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland oneshot #mcu #mcu fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker oneshot #marvel #marvel fanfiction

[prettyboy-parker]

good boys, bad boys

chapter 1: roller baby

words: 1.5k

warnings: homophobic language

read on AO3 here 

masterlist

***

Peter’s exhausted.

Usually, he loves trying on clothes and doing his own makeshift fashion show, but it’s already been an hour and he hasn’t been making any progress.

“No. I don’t like it. Too...” MJ taps her pen on her chin, “Basic.”

Peter lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Come on MJ, I’m losing my patience. These are Guess jeans, they’re practically the nicest thing I own!” He huffs, turning to step over piles of clothes to head back to his closet.

Okay Peter, think.

He turns to sift through a pile of graphic tees, pulling out a pink MTV shirt. With some newfound inspiration, he grabs black running shorts from the other pile. He quickly shucks off his current outfit, hiding from MJ’s view behind his door.

“Okay, this is the last outfit.” He shouts, emerging from the cramped closet into his messy room.

“Yes! That’s the one!” MJ exclaims, tossing her comic off of her lap and bouncing over to Peter.

“Casual but cute.” She quips, straightening his shirt and then taking his hands in hers.

“You’ve got this.”

“I’ve got this.”

MJ grins.

“That’s the spirit. Now go get ‘em, Tiger.”

Peter drops her hands, turning to pick up his socks by his dresser.

“Besides, it’s not even a date.” He says solemnly, sitting on the ground to slide on his Chucks.

MJ lets out a scoff.

“Sure. And if you take any longer I’m biking home alone.”

The ride to Skateland Roller Rink is peaceful, MJ bidding her goodbyes as they neared her house. He knows the route to the rink like the back of his hand, and soon he’s nearing the ugly neon sign claiming “Free Skate on Tuesdays!”

He parks his bike on the bike rack, when a voice calls out:

“Peter!”

Peter turns to see the shining face of Steve Rogers.

Steven Rogers is a junior like Peter, a leading quarterback on the football team and an all-American boy. With light blonde hair and striking blue eyes, the entire female student body fawns over him. His baby blue polo is paired with khaki shorts and Converse matching Peter’s own.

He smiles and waves back, jogging over to where Steve is standing next to the front entrance.

“Hey, Steve!” He chirps, taking the 5 dollar bill out of the waistband of his shorts.

“Glad you showed up.” Steve says with a smile.

God, his teeth are bright.

“You know I’d never leave you hanging.” Peter responds, nudging him with his shoulder lightly, before wrapping his dainty arms around Steve’s large figure, pulling him into a hug.

“No need to worry, I’m here!”

Stephen Strange emerges from the parking lot, waving his wallet in the air.

Stephen is also a junior, one of the brightest in the grade but also one of the richest. With sharp facial features, light blue-green eyes, dark brown hair, and a tall lanky figure, he’s one of the top romantic interests in the school. Being a part of Steve’s entourage helps him up the social hierarchy, though. Not to mention that both his parents are some form of doctors, and they live in the nicest neighborhood in town.

“Stephen!” Peter squeals, the other’s arms already outstretched in anticipation of a hug.

Stephen has told him many times before that he’s not a hug person, but most people can’t resist a hug from Peter Parker.

“Hey Pete. Had to run to get my wallet.”

“No biggie.” Peter tells him, pulling away to survey his outfit.

He’s dressed more casually than usual, a plain navy t-shirt with jeans.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Peter spots the semi-familiar face of Pietro, making it clear that Stark and his guys are here tonight. Peter doesn’t know his last name, but he’s seen him around enough to get a first name and an idea of what he looks like.

“Steven Squared! My favorite Stevens in the school.” Pietro shouts with a bit of bite to his words.

Steve visibly tenses, eyes becoming dark.

“Actually, we wouldn’t be squared, because our names are spelled differently.” Stephen mutters, earning a soft giggle from Peter.

“Shut up, Pietro. What are you doing here?” Steve snaps, moving closer to Peter.

Pietro smirks, left hand resting in the pocket of his leather jacket, while the right raises his cigarette to his mouth. He takes a long drag of it, blowing smoke into their faces.

“Can ask you the same thing. What’s with the hostility? Thought you were the peace love and happiness kid.”

“Maximoff, if you don’t shut the fuck up-“

“You’ll what? Beat me up? I’ll just sit here and take it then, putting all the blame on you.” Pietro sneers, tossing his cigarette on the ground and crushing it under the heel of his Doc Martens.

Peter prays that they don’t get into a fight.

“I’ve got places to be, Rogers.” Pietro huffs, pushing past Steve and stomping up the steps to the skate ring.

“What’s his problem?” Stephen asks, staring at where Pietro went off to.

“Don’t know. He’s just a dick.” Steve grunts.

Peter doesn’t understand, because Pietro wasn’t really provoking them.

If anything, Steve is the one who started the hostility in the first place.

“Come on, Pete. Let’s go skate.” Steve says softly, placing a light touch on his wrist. Peter smiles and follows him inside.

To much protest, Steve pays for all their entrance fees, letting them get their skates and excitedly pulling Peter and Stephen to the rink. They sing along to the music, trying to dance while skating. It’s loud and bright but they all love it, that’s why it’s so crowded. Soon Peter tells the boys that he has to use the bathroom, and they tell him they’re going to get food. He skates off to the carpeted hallway with the bathrooms, blood turning cold as he sees who’s hanging out at the end of the hall.

The skates aren’t quiet, so the boys in leather turn to see the unwelcome visitor.

“Ah. It’s Peter, right?” Asks none other than Tony Stark, taking a quick puff of his cigarette.

Tony is a bit of a legend among the school community. Being the son of Maria and Howard Stark, previous owners of Stark Industries, most people around the world know of him. He’s a senior, so they’ve only talked once or twice. Peter is unlucky enough to have Business 101 with the guy. He can’t stand him, mostly because Steve has some unspoken grudge with Tony. He sits in the back of the class all day with a stupid smirk on his stupid face.

“Yeah.” Peter tries to reply confidently, but it comes out wavering.

None of Tony’s crew look sympathetic. His fear seems to amuse them.

“You wanna come get milkshakes with us, doll?” The boy behind Tony asks, speaking up.

Bucky Barnes. Peter doesn’t know much about him, except that he should really cut his hair and that he probably listens to metal. He vaguely remembers Steve mentioning he moved here from Russia when he was little. (Or was it Romania?)

“No. Absolutely not.” Peter says a little firmer this time, crossing his arms and shifting his stance in the skates.

Tony’s mischievous grin only widens.

“What? You scared? Did your mommy tell you to stay away from those bad boys, like me and Barnes? Or was it Maximoff and Barton?” He taunts, stalking closer to Peter.

Without missing a beat, Peter replies,

“My mom is dead.”

Right then and there, Peter witnesses Tony Stark’s entire facade crack. His face pales, grin wiped off his sneering face.

Peter smirks in triumph.

Much to his disappointment, Tony’s sneering grin returns.

“My mom’s dead, too. Glad to know we have something in common.”

Bucky looks at Tony like he has 3 heads. With some thought, Peter assumes that Tony doesn’t talk about his mom all that much. From hearing gossip, he’s gathered that Tony really did love his mom.

More than his father, anyways.

“Stop harassing him, Stark.”

Peter jumps out of his skin at Steve’s voice, his large hand pressed against Peter’s small shoulder. He looks up at Steve, and will admit that he was trembling slightly.

“Rogers! Always happy to see you. Is Peter your boy? Didn’t know you were a fucking fag.” Tony taunts, demeanor changing from relaxed to defensive.

“You’re in no place to call me a fag when-“

“When what, Rogers?” Tony hisses, stepping closer to both Peter and Steve, “Why don’t you tell us. Sure Coach would love to hear what you have to say.”

“Shut the fuck up Stark, you swore-“

“Please!” Peter cries out, hand on Steve’s chest and the other held out to stop Tony.

All the boys turn to look at him now.

“Cut it out. Please don’t fight.” Peter pleads.

Tony backs away, slipping his cigarette back into his mouth.

“Fine. We’re leaving.”

Tony barges past the both of them, Bucky, Pietro, and who he can assume is Barton following.

As Bucky passes by, he mutters in Peter’s ear:

“Remember darlin’, that milkshake offer is always on the table.”

tag list: @starker-flame @lurafita @sam-christo @337-years-old

#starker #starker fanfic #winterspider #ironspider #spidershield #spiderstrange

[impracticaldemon]

Do As I Say

by impracticaldemon for @nollatooru in appreciation for her kindness, wonderful art, fine sense of humour - and for letting me use the chibis from her “Hajime!” comic as the perfect icon for the SaiChi blog.

~ 1600 words

Also written as a belated contribution for HijiChi Week. Sumimasen deshita! @hijichiweek @sabinasanfanfic @hidetheremote @shell-senji @eliz1369 @nalufever @hakuyamazakisensei @teapotart @shibuemiyuu

Do As I Say

There was a murmured “excuse me,” and Hijikata looked up in surprise.

“Kondou?  What are you doing up so late?”

The Shinsengumi’s Chief smiled cheerfully, and set down a tray with tea and small snacks.

“Late, Toshi?  I’d heard that you often have tea at this time.  Before going - or rather, not going - to bed.”

“...I can’t stop her from bringing the tea.  I’ve tried.”

“Mmhmm.”

Kondou sat down near Hijikata’s desk, completely unabashed. He poured the fragrant, pale green tea into two cups, and handed one to his truculent second-in-command.  Hijikata eyed him warily.  As much as he appreciated Yukimura’s devotion to - well, call it duty, since it was better not to dwell on other possibilities - he could wish that fewer people knew about her routine.

“All that aside,” Hijikata said lightly, ignoring his friend’s slight smile as he tried to turn the subject, “why are you still up?  I know there are meetings tomorrow morning for you, and then-”

“This is good tea,” Kondou murmured, just loudly enough to interrupt.  “She told me that she tried giving you a more soothing blend, designed to promote restful sleep, but you refused to give it a chance. ...Did you really tell her to dose Souji and Heisuke with it instead?”

Hijikata found himself hastily clearing his throat as the image of Chizuru’s startled face appeared vividly before him.  What he’d actually said was that she could keep the damn stuff to herself, since he needed to finish up a letter that couldn’t wait since their food depended on it.  He might have also mentioned that if he got too drowsy, he worried that his pen might slip and he’d accidentally tell the asshole in charge of supplying their rice that he was a two-faced, thieving whore-son who deserved a punch right in his delicately powdered nose for trying to starve the men who protected him.

He hadn’t suggested giving the tea to Souji and Heisuke until later, in response to Chizuru’s manifest disappointment that he wouldn’t touch it himself.  He probably shouldn’t have added that they deserved whatever was coming to them, and that if her odd brew put them to sleep then that was all to the good.

“...Toshi?”

“Ah, yes, sorry.  I was working on the letter to the delegate of the Imperial Comptroller, you see, so it was urgent.”

“And the bit about Souji and Heisuke?”

Hijikata rubbed at the bridge of his nose.  “Souji thought that it would be entertaining to get Heisuke drunk and then bring him by to sing nonsense words through my window.”

“Nonsense words?” Kondou watched Hijikata drain his cup of tea and absently hold it out for a refill.  He obliged, carefully hiding a smile, sure that this ritual had played out numerous times over the past months, with Chizuru calmly pouring, waiting, and insisting that she wasn’t tired.

“...It was nothing, Kondou-san.  Nothing of importance.”  Hijikata tried not to wince, as he recalled the childish doggerel set - more or less - to the chorus of a traditional drinking song.

Give me your hand, and I’ll bring you tea Give me your lap, I’ll rest on your knee Give me your heart, and faithful I’ll be Give me your sword -

He hadn’t heard the rest, and didn’t want to.  Souji had been laughing too hard to run, and Heisuke too drunk.  He’d smacked them both upside the head - Heisuke had looked bewildered - and told Souji that he was confined to quarters until further notice except for scheduled patrols.  The First Division Captain had been entirely unrepentant.

“I was just thinking,” said Kondou, “that maybe you need to get more rest.”

“I will - I have just a bit more to go now and -”

“If it’s so close to being finished, then I expect I’ll cope. ...You just drank two and a half cups of tea without noticing that it’s Yukimura-kun’s special blend.  She rarely puts herself forward, you know, but she requested a few minutes with me earlier today.”

“Kondou - what?”  He stared into his cup, detecting only subtle differences in scent and colour from regular tea; it was nothing like what Yukimura had brought him the other day.  Irritation rose to the fore.  “You didn’t need to do this.  I resolved the rice issue -”

“Yukimura-kun said that you were clearly disappointed in the Senior Vice-Comptroller and didn’t stop ‘thinking out loud’ until you suddenly invoked the gods and, er, Sannan-kun.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Argh.  He could just tell that he was losing this battle.

“Sannan-kun confirmed that you’d asked him to have a word with the Comptroller’s Office.  He seemed quite pleased by your suggested course of action, but murmured that you didn’t usually condone such forceful measures.”

“I asked him to speak with the Vice-Comptroller and remind the bastard that it isn’t wise to stint a loyal and well-trained group of armed men.”

“You keep telling me to get enough rest, Toshi.”

“Yes, but -”

“And you say the same to Souji, Saitou-kun, Heisuke-kun... even Harada-kun and Nagakura-kun.”

Hijikata glowered.  He knew he was glowering.  “That’s because they behave like children, with the exception of Saitou.”

“I’ve given permission to Yukimura-kun to come get me if you refuse to put away your work by midnight each night this week.”  Kondou got quietly to his feet, his expression serious.  “I trust her judgment.  She has a good heart and cares about you.  I wish we could do more for her, but...”  He sighed, clearly still troubled by the girl’s situation.  Then he shook his head and focused back on Hijikata.  His mild brown eyes held a trace of warning.  

“Toshi, you have never been one to live by the motto ‘do as I say, not as I do.’ We know all too many who do.”  Hijikata nodded.  Kondou smiled faintly at him.  “That said, please consider that if you push yourself too hard, there are others here who will follow your lead.  Yukimura-kun is just one of them.  If you tell others to rest, but you do not, you create uncertainty as to your true wishes.”

“I understand your point, Kondou.  But...”

“I know, Toshi.  But it’s only for a week.  Oyasumi - and try not to blame the girl too much.”  

Hijikata wasn’t surprised when Kondou’s departure heralded the entrance of his wayward - and apparently over-protective - page.  She looked apprehensive, but determined.  He had the sudden thought that Edo women were known to be stubborn to a fault, and meekness could be deceiving.

“Yes, Yukimura?”  He didn’t look at her, busying himself instead with tidying away his brushes and ink.

“Kondou-san said you were going to bed shortly.  Is there anything I can do - or fetch - for you now?”

A dozen retorts sprang to mind, but to his dismay, Hijikata found the idea of kissing those soft lips more distracting than any scolding he might give.  He pushed himself to his feet.

“No, nothing.”  He tried to turn away indifferently, but a wave of fatigue reminded him of a question that he did want answered.  “Wait.”  The sudden hope on Chizuru’s face was both endearing and an invitation to disaster.  He folded his arms inside his sleeves to keep from reaching out.  “The tea this evening.  Kondou-san said it was your blend, but it wasn’t the same.  So what was it?  You did make it, I gather?”

“Well, yes, Hijikata-san, I did make it.  But Sannan-san provided me with a superior method for blending the components.”

“Oh?”

Chizuru - Yukimura - met his stern gaze without flinching.  Much.

“Y-yes. And he said to add his own variety of mint, which would be more agreeable than mine with the underlying flavour.”

They gazed at each other for a long moment, and Hijikata concluded that while Yukimura might not have known of Sannan’s deception - a soporific had been added, he was sure of it - she had her suspicions.  He sighed internally and bowed to the inevitable:  with Yukimura, Kondou, and Sannan in collusion, he wasn’t going to get his way.  Moreover, Sannan might - might - be the least troublesome of the three.

“I suppose that answers that, then.  Rest assured, I will change for bed the moment you leave.  Unless you plan to stay and watch?”

Yukimura immediately flushed.  “N-no, Hijikata-san.  I’ll be going... Oyasumimasen.”

“Good night.”

It was a sad state of affairs when he had to resort to such petty tactics just to deal with an innocent like Chizuru.  He changed quickly, feeling more tired by the second.  The moment he extinguished the lantern, a quiet voice called from outside the door:

“Excuse me, Vice Commander.”  Of course.  Saitou.  He should have guessed when Chizuru left with so little difficulty.

“What is it?”  

“...I was asked to remain for a short time.”

“By all the tits on all the goats in all the hells, I do not need a fucking watchdog!  Go away, Saitou!”

“Yes sir.  As soon as your light has been extinguished for a certain length of time, I will depart as ordered.”

Hijikata closed his eyes.  They were going to drive him crazy.  Still... there were worse things.  Probably.

“Oyasumi, Saitou.”

“Oyasumi, Fukuchou.”

As sleep claimed him - and it did not take long - Hijikata found himself smiling.  She was exasperating... and unintentionally troublesome... but she cared.  He wished - briefly! - that his life, his choices, would allow him to care for her in the same way.

[END]

A/Note:  Thank you for reading! I will post this to FFN and AO3 when I have a bit more time & energy.  All likes, reblogs, and especially comments are appreciated.

#hakuouki #hakuoki #hijikata toshizo #kondo isami #yukimura chizuru #hijichi #although just about everybody managed to be involved somehow #friends of hijikata #impracticaldemon #imp writes #hijichi week #hijichi 2018

[whirlybirbs]

studying.

pairing: college!peter x reader rating: all audiences welcome to this fluff what to listen to: roll up by fitz & the tantrums a/n: for the anons who gave me some ideas, here is the start of a potential series? or, as i would say, peter crushes on his TA.

After months of applications and tours and accepted student days, Peter had finally settled on MIT.

(It had helped that Tony had written his recommendation letter. A lot.)

September brings a new leaf.

Peter trades in the hustle and bustle for NYC for that of Boston. It is less shiny, less new. He likes it though; likes the cobblestone, the spirit, the history and the rhythmic rattle of the T under the Kendell stop. The late summer breeze is crisp as Peter shrugs his hoodie on, bagel dangling from his mouth as he chews and launches himself up the steps towards the quad.

His sense are in a haywire; it is the new environment. His sunglasses are maybe a little darker than they should be.

A week ago, his phone had been buzzing with kissy emoji from Aunt May, a good luck text from Tony and of course Ned -- his friend had settled in only a few T stops away at Harvard. The first day of classes had come and gone, bringing it with it an overwhelming sense of belonging. For once, Peter didn’t feel like an outlier.

The only text Peter is paying attention to this morning is yours, though.

pls help me study for my bio quiz later, peter, i am begging u

It makes him laugh. Peter grins, dimples digging in a little bit as he settles into a quick pace. Strawberry converse beat against the jagged cobblestone.

I mean, he wasn’t going to lie to himself -- you were, like, gorgeous. And funny. And you thought it was cool that he’d binged the entirety of Jason Todd and the Outlaws in one night. The fact that you’d excitedly added him on Facebook last Friday after class was enough; he’d messaged you, asking if avoiding the chicken at McCormick was a smart move.

You were a sophomore. You knew the ropes. Peter is totally using it as an excuse.

it’s literally the second week??? who is giving quizzes already??? who’s THAT evil???

You’re laughing, crossing the quad on the opposite side of campus when you get his texts.

It was only happenstance you two started to become friends. His first class, an 8:30am entry-level history course run by Professor Frankfurt (which was really just one big Captain America fanboy session) happened to be the class you’d decided to TA for -- and in turn, the class you’d first met Peter in. Forced to sit front row after arriving late -- he’d had trouble finding the Tang Auditorium -- he ended up being the one to sit next to you.

He was wearing a Saint Motel t-shirt. You’d stopped him after class, nervously chirping your admiration of that particular album. He’d stuttered in surprise. You were a little mortified, mostly since you had realize how pretty he was. He had big brown eyes and dimples. Dimples.

From that point forward, it was like you couldn’t escape him. He joined the Broadcasting club -- and you’d laughed out loud when he walked through the door wearing a different Saint Motel t-shirt. Comic Roundtable wasn’t safe either, as Peter Parker had suddenly become the fresh face among the small club of eight. It truly culminated when you realized Peter had taken up residency on Danny’s floor -- the R.A. was a fellow Anthropology major, and one of your closest friends.

So, yeah, texting him and asking for help on a Gen Ed Bio course quiz was kind of pushing it. You wanted to hate Peter, honestly -- as a freshman he’d already met a handful of prerequisites through his famed Stark Internship, working his way through a good half of the first year Computer Science and Molecular Biology course load. The air at MIT was competitive, but for some reason Peter didn’t feed into it. You felt okay admitting a fault.

It wasn’t like you were going to go to Academic Computing. They’d definitely roast you for not understanding cell structure and osmosis and all that other shit. You were an Anthropology and American History double major for god’s sake. You didn’t need that stuff in your brain. You needed room for other things.

So, you text Peter back.

it’s prof steck. don’t play urself. stay away from her. but is that a yes??? bc if it is i’ll swipe for u at baker!!!

Peter’s slipping through the auditorium doors when he texts you back.

Your phone buzzes on your desk, and you laugh a little when you read the message.

only if u buy me mozzerella stix!!!!

He shoulders you as he sits down. The touch is enough to light up Peter’s nervous system; he ignores the happy tingle that creeps up his back.

The stack of graded papers is jostled a bit by the movement -- Frankfurt had done an assessment on Wednesday, intending to get a gage for what he was working with in the class. So much for syllabus week. You, of course, had been tasked with grading. Not that you minded, though, it had distracted you from asking Peter to come out with you on Saturday night.

“You know,” you chirp, “Baker has make your own stir fry tonight...”

“No way!” Peter’s voice clips a bit, high and excited, “Then forget the fried cheese sticks, buy me stir fry.”

“Only if you don’t make fun of me,” you hum, rolling your eyes a little, “This quiz on is the simple stuff and I don’t know why, I just don’t get it.”

“Well,” Peter chides, settling back in his seat. His fingers dance across the trackpad of his laptop, waking it up, “Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

You deadpan.

Peter grins. It’s toothy.

“Is that what the Stark Internship taught you?”

His laugh is boyish. Those dimples are back. Your chest caves a bit, face hot with a gooey expression. What the hell is wrong with you? Going gaga over a freshman?

“Naw, memes taught me that one.”

“Oh,” you wave your hands as Professor Frankfurt throws himself into the auditorium in a huff, “Even better.”

You’re both silenced into a hush as the rest of the first year class follows suit. Professor Frankfurt calls roll. Your name is called after Peter’s. You hand out the exams, and then sit beside Peter for the rest of the class, basking in the warm glow of his semi-permanent smile.

“You know it’s not a date, right?”

Your roommate has her fists halfway into a family sized bag of doritos. Netflix glows from the top bunk. You’re fixing your hair in the mirror hanging on the door.

“I know, but,” you sigh, “He’s cute.”

“He’s a freshman,” she waves as The Office drones on, “He’s fresh meat -- dead in the water. That’s social suicide, you know. At least wait until after Rush Week.”

“Peter doesn’t seem like the fraternity type.”

“Yikes.”

“That’s not a bad thing!” you huff, tugging your hair up and away, “Seriously, there’s a reason why you keep getting your heart broken by dumb boys.”

“Is it because I have an affinity for beefy rich assholes named Brad?”

“That’ll do it, honestly.”

“Fair enough,” she tosses a grin your way, “Good luck on your dinner date with Peter.”

“It’s not a date!”

--

It’s not a date.

Totally not?

Why is he so nervous?

Oh god, his hands are sweating.

“I’ll have the sweet and tangy sauce, please.”

The box of stir fry is handed to him -- you’re already digging in with a goofy grin on your face. You much on the lo mein noodles happily. You’re covering your own nervousness well. Thank god for deodorant because Peter has you sweating -- literally. It had climbed into the high 70s by late afternoon, leaving Parker in a t-shirt that seemed too tight to be legal and a pair of shorts. He was tan. And he had freckles. Everywhere.

Your hair is swept into hazy curls by the late summer heat. Peter watches the curls along the back of your neck as you both work your way through the check out in the dining hall.

You both make your way to the Hayden Library, strides slow. The sky looks gold, and the clouds glow in the deep blue of the September evening. Traffic drums on, but you both are locked into conversation. Nothing is breaking it -- not even the wave of friends across the street.

“So, New York, huh?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, taking a bite from his takeout container, “My Aunt told me that if I ever went to a Red Sox game, she’d murder me in cold blood.”

“Yikes,” you chatter, “You’re missing out -- I mean, no Big Papi anymore, but Hanley Ramirez is a big deal. Be a shame if you never saw him play in Boston.”

“Are you trying to convince me to go to a Red Sox game?” Peter’s voice hitches, “Because that’s not happening.”

“C’mon, the Yankees suck,” your smile is challenging and Peter laugh as you take a few steps ahead, turning around to watch him as you skip backwards, “Turn to the dark side, Peter! It’s more fun! We have a green monster.”

“I think I’d rather take the Hulk, honestly.”

“Me too,” you wink, “Bruce Banner is an absolute babe.”

Peter laughs at that -- loud and rowdy in the late summer heat. It’s intoxicating.

Your takeaway boxes have been abandoned, licked clean, in favor of a biology textbook and notepads. Though, it wasn’t a welcome abandonment. You wanted to pull your hair out. It showed.

Your lips are pulled into a pout. Peter watches your brows screw together. The study room is filled with the chatter of a Bio101 Youtube video he’d pulled up, hoping to explain osmosis and semipermeable membranes and the importance of saline.

“See?” Peter’s pen taps the screen, “From high to low!”

“Always?”

“Always.”

“Sounds fake,” you hum, mushing your cheeks together as you lean on the wooden table, “But okay.”

“It’s not fake! It’s science.”

“So,” you lean back, waving your fingers, “... magic?”

“Basically,” Peter shrugs, “My formal title after grad school will be Wizard.”

“I want to be a wizard.”

“Then --”

“And make this whole quiz disappear.”

Peter drops his head into his hands, laughing softly as he rubs his brows together. You were getting it, albeit slowly. He couldn’t say he really minded losing his Monday night to you -- in fact, he found himself enjoying this a little bit too much. Your knee brushes his under the table as you shift, eyes drawn back to the video.

His skin tingles. Hot and prickly.

“How about one more hour of studying?”

“Thank god,” you whisper, “I can do that.”

“Power hour?”

“Power hour.”

He walks you back to your dorm.

Even though it’s in the opposite direction of his.

“I hope I helped,” he sighs, “Even if it’s a little bit?”

“You helped a lot -- seriously, I think I’m a wizard now.”

You blossom with pride as he giggles, eyes screwing shut as his head falls backwards. His converse scuff against the pavement as he shoves his fingers into his pockets. Peter glows under pinks and yellows of the streetlights. It’s cute. You wind your own fingers together, toeing the ground.

There’s a weighted pause between you both. Brown eyes burrow into your own.

It’s broken by the door to your dorm swinging open and a group of guys bustling by. It prompts you both to laugh again.

“I’ll see you on Wednesday, then?”

“Yeah! And, uh, I’ll let you know how I do on my quiz!”

“Make me proud!”

He waves, you wave, and you swear it’s the warmest you’ve ever felt.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #spiderman imagine

[humanityinahandbag]

Five More Minutes: DWD Drabble

A Darkwing Duck fanfiction for squidsfeather and (sort of) for sonichearts  (you requested a self doubt fic, and I realized while writing this that there was some of that here, but honestly I’ve already got another one going that’s just all self doubt so you’re getting two… Fun times!)

Anywho…

Let’s get into this!

Five More Minutes: In which Darkwing Duck hates clocks, time, and the general boredom and insufferable anxiety that they provide. 

Drake Mallard was not a duck known for his patience. Nor was he known for his exceeding talent at waiting while the clock ticked on without him. His years alone, living in a spacious and barren room on the very top of a hollowed out bridge, had allowed him to use the available space to scream at any pitch he’d wanted whenever frustrations ran high. And he’d done that. 

Quite a lot. 

It was so much easier than venting to a too expensive shrink about his inability to handle boredom. Or anxiety. Or frustration. Or much anything at all that impeded his ability to run smoothly and rapidly and on his own singular schedule. 

If anyone asked what Darkwing Duck’s weakness was, he’d say it was the passing of time. For the boredom it brought, and the chances it took away. He was rarely standing still, rarely giving himself a moment to breathe.

He preferred it that way..

(All the time)

(Most of the time)

(Some of the time)

Stillness was for suckers and losers and people who wandered aimlessly through their mundane and meaningless lives. Not for superheroes. And certainly not for terrors who flapped in the night. 

So when he’d thought about making a change in his life-

“You’re kidding.” He had few friends outside of work -actually, scratch that, he had no friends outside of work- and so it wasn’t the best day when the only one he considered something of an acquaintance had decided to test those very thin bonds by snorting at him. “You’re doing what?”

Eddie Egbberta wasn’t even really an acquaintance. He was the man who handed Drake Mallard his coffee three times a week over the counter of the local cafe. They exchanged occasional conversation and kept personal information to a minimum. Which was fine with Drake. 

He knew exactly three things about Eddie; he enjoyed coffee, he was constantly pondering upon the state of his gayness, and his least favorite color was magenta because, as he’d put it, the word was created by the very rich to paint their own walls and tie up our tongues. 

Eddie, in return, knew three things about Drake; he was irritable, he took his coffee black, and he had the patience for exactly nothing. 

It was the latter that had Eddie clutching to the counter for support. 

Drake sniffed, pushing down the already secured coffee lid. “I told you-”

“You’re adopting!” Eddie drew back, grabbing another cup and filling it halfway with skim. The cashier shouted back something about a pumkin spiced something and Eddie nodded their way before setting to work. “I just…” he jammed the cup under the foamer and switched on the nozzle. The air was clogged with the whrrrr. “You do know that kids take like… time, right?”

“I sort of guessed.”

“And you have to like… stand still for two fucking seconds-”

“Uh huh-”

“And you need patience-”

“Is there something you’d like to say?” the sweater vested duck shot back, his tone gone sour. “Please do.” 

“It’s just…” Eddie drew the cup away and poured decaf into the cup before sprinkling it with something that smelled like a candle. “You don’t seem like the type. You know?” 

For a moment, it isn’t Drake Mallard standing there. It’s Darkwing Duck. And he’s holding his coffee cup tight enough to burst. “What’s the type.” 

“You know…” Eddie doesn’t notice the tension between writing a name on the newest coffee. “Someone who has an actual house. And who isn’t a total hot head who brings back his coffee if his goddamn name is spelled wrong.” Apparently he hadn’t forgotten the incident from a month ago, for which he’d been totally justified. Names were important things and his wasn’t Blake. Eddie finished scribbling and capped his pen. He called out “CHARLOTTE” before picking up a new cup. “You’d also have to be someone who buys juice boxes,”

“I hate juice boxes. They’re just sugar in a container.”

“You hate everything.” He poured in whole milk and started up the steamer. “How’s that gonna work for a kid.” 

Drake Mallard looked down at his cup again. There was no sleeve, and it was beginning to sting his hand. Darkwing Duck recedes. “Yeah,” said Drake, who was in almost no mood to fight. Maybe because yelling at a barista in the middle of a crowded coffee shop sounded like his own personal nightmare. 

Maybe because, in a way, the barista was kind of, sort of, definitely right. 

“Hey man,” Eddie handed the candle coffee off to another customer, who looked between them curiously before dragging themselves slowly away, an ear still half glued to their conversation, “let me know what you do. But like… my sister just had a kid, dude, and you gotta be ready to just sort of… sit there. You know? Just sort of listen to the clock and let things happen.” 

“Right…” said Drake. And then; “Uh… see you next week.”

Eddie waved him away. 

Drake would not be returning the next week. Instead, he’d use it to wallow in his own self deprecation while the clocks around him tortured the silence with their awful tick tick tick and Drake followed along with them, knowing full well that if this was to be his life, then maybe he’d end up just scarring some poor child and being the worst father to ever grace the earth. He was becoming everything he ever hated. Everything that frightened him. Everything that he’d always promised himself he’d never become. He was too good for the mundane, for the adequate, for the dreadful normalcy that some people settled with. 

This was settling. 

Yet, somehow, the paperwork managed to be filed and the interviews managed to get done, and he stood in front of the orphanage doors, feeling his wrist watch ticking away, and wishing he had just five more minutes-

(just)

(just five more)

-to make this decision before he dove into what might have been the worst choice he’d ever made. But he was notoriously bad at waiting for things. And so it may have been merely his fear of boredom and time that drove him to cross the threshold and stand in the office and catch a little girl who ran towards him. 

(I’ve gotta take care of myself)

(now that I’m going to have a new adopted daughter to worry about)

She calls him Mr. Mallard for a month. And he hates it, but he says little towards it. Whatever makes her happy. She’s been in and out of homes, lost a grandfather, and god knows who her parents were. The last thing she needs is to look at him as a replacement father. If she wants to call him Mr. Mallard for the rest of her life-

“Dad…” she says one night, so shyly it might have just broken his heart and made a home in the cracks, “can we repaint my room… I hate pink…” He’d gotten the room ready for a little girl and might have gone overboard and he’s so deep in the middle of regretting it that he barely notices what she’s called him until he’s catching on and remembering just how breathing worked.

Drake Mallard finds it odd that he suddenly wishes the clocks would stop. That they’d tick on, but time wouldn’t, and that he could have five more minutes with his new title burrowing its way down and infecting every exploding cell in his chest.

He corals her to the car and they buy green paint that day. Soon there are baseball posters and a blue duvet and stacks of comic books, and she’s clinging to his waist looking around her new little hovel and squealing thanks dad into his shirt and he’s looking around with her and deciding that, yes, this was much more suitable. 

This was all more suitable. 

“No problem, honey,” he says. 

He tries those names on his tongue a few more times. 

His parents never called him that. Sweetheart, sweetie, honey, dearest. He hadn’t cared then. There was barely any love lost, and he hadn’t thought it was important when he’d lived under their roof. The history has them feeling a little clunky coming out of his mouth, so he practices them often. Like it would erase the lack of them from his own pithy youth. 

He matches them against the ticking of the clocks on the stove, and he uses them as often as he can, revealing in the little ways it makes her face light up just so until she looks less like a duckling in a new and scary environment and more like someone he’d lived there long enough to acclimate into the idea of nicknames and bedtime stories and juice boxes in the cupboard. 

Drake Mallard sort of loves that he can call someone sweetheart. 

And he sort of also loves the grape juice boxes, too. 

She tells him that she loves him first. Mostly because he forgot to say it. Or rather, thought that he had. He had sort of assumed that his fast paced caregiving was the same as love. That his never-ending movement (cook, clean, dress, bathe, repeat) would be sufficient. 

He was a man of action, after all. And movement to him meant everything. Meant that not a moment was wasted. Wasn’t that just enough? To know that not a second was wasted on you? To know that-

“Night, dad,” she says, tugging at the hem of her pajamas. There’s a spot of toothpaste on the edge of her bill and her soft feathers are still a little wet and warm from the bath. He’s on the couch, and she’s supposed to already be asleep, but she had gotten up and snuck down the stairs and flopped down to reach her arms as far around his waist as they could go. In the background, the newscaster talked about Darkwing Duck before switching to a story on a car wash shutting down after its money laundering was caught by a pizza boy on an afternoon run.

He almost doesn’t hear her over the interview of Pizza Boy who’s name was Todd and who’s appearance was just as Todd-ish as you’d expect, from the swept bangs to the smacking of his stale gum. 

Still, somehow, he catches it. 

“I love you.”

He doesn’t know what to say. 

Except he does. 

“Love you too, Gos.” And then: “aren’t you supposed to already be in bed, Little Miss!” because the first rule about being a superhero is not letting them know when you’ve been broken. Or stunned. Or when you’re so positively drowning in love and you can’t seem to speak. 

He watches her scamper back up the stairs and hears her shuffle around before all is quiet and he can mute the television and just sort of listen to the clocks turn around him. 

He could have had five more minutes of that. Just to hear her voice say it again. 

It hits him sometime after midnight while he stares at the ceiling. 

He’s a father. 

He’s a father. 

The mundane becomes the one thing that sets his heart hammering. 

He tells her good morning over breakfast and tells her he loves her just after he finishes buttering the toast, just so he can hear her say it back and know that it wasn’t just a dream. 

“Love you too, dad,” she calls back, mouth full of jam and toast, feet already out the door. Honker was no doubt waiting for her, ready to watch her crash and burn from a distance, and equally as prepared to console her once the punishment of a long, worthy grounding was provided. 

He had someone to ground. Which he shouldn’t love as much as he did. But… 

She sounds like she’s practically done with him. Like she’s already exasperated with her father over something he’d said or done. 

He loves that, too. 

He adds a few more clocks to his house. And one to his lair. 

He’s not as afraid of them anymore. 

He brings her to the coffee shop. Sort of to show off, and sort of because she had been nagging him for hot chocolate and they had the most mediocre cup around. Which just meant one less thing he had to make when he was feeling particularly lazy. 

Eddie is still there. And he’s still making coffee. And when he looks over at the counter, shouting out the name on the cup -GOSALYN MALLARD- he catches Drakes eye and nearly drops the cup. “Oh my god!” he smiles. “He returns!”

“He returns,” Drake agrees. “So… can I take-” he motioned to the cup. 

Eddie squinted at him. “This is yours…?” He checked the name again. 

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Wow, they got your name really wrong.”

“No, it’s not-”

“It’s mine! Mine! Right here!” The girl had gone off to harass someone while she scoured for napkins, and is back in full force, clinging to his vest and popping up over the counter to grab at the treat. 

“Gosalyn, what do we say?”

She has the good sense to look mildly shame faced before muttering “please” and Eddie hands it over and down to her, eyes looking more and more like those knots you found on trees. 

“Oh…” said Eddie. “Oh-”

“This is Gosalyn.” Her scarf was slipping and Drake leaned down to fix it. “Gosalyn. This is Eddie. He makes coffee.”

“Hi Eddie who makes Coffee,” said Gosalyn, who was about as interested in all of this as she could bear to manage. “I’m going to find cinnamon.”

“Just stay close!” She scampered away and Drake sighed. “If she breaks anything, I’m not paying for it.” It didn’t sound like a joke. 

Still, there were more important things than the implication of a ruined store. Eddie looked at the red headed girl, and back to the duck in front of him. “So that’s your-”

“Uh huh.”

“You actually-”

“I did.” 

“You did.” Eddie looked over at the girl again, who had gotten a good deal of cinnamon into her cup, and an even greater deal onto the floor and into the purse of some lady who’d been foolish enough to look away. “Oh holy shit. You did. You actually-” Eddie smiled, huge. “You’re a dad!” He blinked. “Oh man. You’re a dad.” 

Drake tries to keep the sourness at bay, but he’s almost too giddy with the declaration and whatever bitterness sat there got up and left. “I’m a dad.” 

“Hows it feel.”

“Weird.” Drake said. “Different. Terrifying.”

“I mean… I didn’t think you’d actually…” he shook his head. “Hows the old Drake Mallard patience keeping up.”

Drake snorted into his coffee, dragging back a long gulp. “You’d be surprised.” He saluted the barista before whipping his head around and barking “Gosalyn, what have we talked about” and the old Drake Mallard patience roared into view again. 

Some things never changed. 

But, as Eddie recalled, the single bachelor hadn’t been able to stay in the coffee shop for long. The tables by the windows and the few chairs by the promotional coffee stands were never things he used, and he’d rushed out right after his hand had touched the cup- out to do god knows what. 

Now he sits at the table and jokes with the little girl and lights up when he’s able to make her laugh. She makes faces and every so often there’s a mention of a zombie or alien or something that he rolls his eyes at but plays along with enough that she keeps going, unswayed and encouraged. 

The clocks tick on around them, and the old stereos blast some awful acoustic songs, and the smell of artificial pumpkin is thick in the air, and the daughter and father sit by the window an hour after they’ve finished their coffee, and time just keeps ticking on. 

There are new socks in the laundry and shoes by the door, and as the months pass his orderly life is disrupted in every which way. He has calendars now, hanging in the kitchen, and marked with school functions and baseball games.

His time in the cape has to be given certain hours, and he has to learn how to back away and let the police actually do something because yes, he’d love to help out, but his Gosalyn (his Gosalyn) had made the semi finals and was basically carrying her entire soccer team on her back, and he needed to be in those stands to watch. 

So he was. 

She scored three goals and only got into two fights, which made up for a success. 

He remembers once that he’d promised himself that his life would be anything but mundane. 

While he’s busy picking up shoes and vacuuming the rug, and packing apple slices in little baggies for the morning, he wonders how he let himself think something so ridiculously stupid. 

Launchpad thinks it all fate. “I’m telling you, DW,” he says, drying dishes and putting them on the rack by the sink, “you were meant to be a father!”

“Eh,” says Drake. 

“No! Really! My nan used to say that, you know. That we’re all just sort of meant to be things.”

Drake seals another baggie of apples. “Eh,” he says again. 

He doesn’t think anyones meant to be anything. He was meant to be a father as much as he was meant to be a hero. He fought for the latter until he’d made his mark. 

As he climbs the stairs and pokes his head into her room, he sort of realizes that he might have fought for this, too. 

Drake sees that there’s nothing settling about coming home to a noisy house. And that there’s nothing dreadful about using this newly formed dad voice that he saves for commands about room cleaning and vegetable consuming. And that there’s nothing awful about stacking folded clothes on a bed only to have them be unfolded and scattered everywhere. 

Or being caught up in a hug. 

There are mornings -rare mornings- where nothing happens. Where it’s maybe just too rainy outside, or there’s no soccer games on television, or Darkwing Duck hasn’t been needed in a week or two, so the news is glossing over the usual soft stories, and their house finds itself quiet. 

An odd occurrence. But not an unwelcome one. 

He’s gotten very good at spotting them. 

Opening his eyes, Drake Mallard looks up at his ceiling, hears the pit-pit-pit on the window, and sinks further back into the pillow. 

The doorknob is jiggled softly, ticking as its turned, and the red pigtails appear first, before the rest of the face finds itself peering round the corner. She doesn’t say anything, but she’s dragging her blanket behind her and slides carefully into the rain darkened room. They both know he’s not asleep. Or, at least, he assumes she knows by the way she jostles his mattress climbing up it. 

He doesn’t mind. Every once in a while, he doesn’t mind. 

She (quietly, carefully) tries to wrestle with her own blanket and is (mostly) successful until there’s a foot in his side and a hand sort of pinching his arm, and she gives up completely and lets the blanket flump to the floor before delicately (or as delicate as a thirty pound gosling with a clumsy streak could manage) lifted up his blankets and burrowed beneath with him. There wasn’t much room. He had a King bed coming along, but had never had much need for it since before he’d had a child and had spent most his time outside.

And yes, an entire year in might have been a little long to wait but sue him, old habits died hard. 

She pushed herself all the way under the covers until only the top of her head poked out. Her feet -which were freezing and he’d have to enforce some fascistic mandatory sockwear after this- stuck against his knees before she settled back. It didn’t escape him that she left a great deal of room between them. 

Or as much as she could leave without her feet shoved against his knees. 

He should have kicked her out. There wasn’t much room. And old him, the I’m-Not-a-Father-I’m-an-Eternal-Bachelor him, the one-year-prior him who still sort of lived in his brain and occasionally came out on especially foul days, might have found any reason to. And the exasperated father who’d bloomed overtime was just as absolutely peeved by the loss of his stretching space. 

This was a rainy morning though. A tired, slow morning. And the tiny thing in front of him, so absolutely small compared to the hugeness of her importance which never ceased to amaze him-

he had a child

he, Drake Mallard, had a child

a living, breathing, dependent child

a real life, absolutely adoring, loved him to pieces child

-had crawled out of her bed on a Saturday, ignoring every comic most likely stacked in a messy pile on her nightstand, just to be with him. There was something so effortlessly wonderful about that.

A year. A whole year. And he still marveled. 

He moved. She stiffened, thinking she’d woken him. As if that mattered. His arms, thick with sleep, wound around her and pulled her farther under the covers with him, clutching her to his chest. The bottom of his bill rested on the top of her head. “Hey, Slugger,” 

She wiggled, bumping into him, leaving what might have been a nice bruise for later, before twisting around and pushing her face into his chest. He felt her yawn before snuggling more securely against him. “It’s raining.” 

“It is.” She smelled like coconut shampoo from the bath he’d practically thrown her into the night before. Her downy feathers, still so soft at her age, were fluffed, and he dragged his fingers through the ones at her neck. He remembered when he’d lost his downy finally at the age of eight. The pediatricians he’d taken Gosalyn to for her annual boosters all said that hers would fall out eventually, and it wasn’t unusual for some children to hold onto theirs longer than others, and he didn’t let them know that he secretly wished she never would, because oh god, he’d only had her for a year and she was already going on ten, and there was so much he’d missed at the hands of those who’d raised her before he had-

“Can we have pancakes?”

His mind paused. “What?”

“Can we have rainy day pancakes?” her mouth sounds like its full of sleep. She pushed her face against his pajama shirt. “You smell like smoke.” 

“Fire last night.” 

She regarded it with a casual nod. And then: “So can we have pancakes?”

He thought for a moment. Thought a moment more. And then he grabbed her up quickly and blew a raspberry in the fold of her neck. Gosalyn shrieked, laughed, and batted at his face between her cackles of uncle uncle! “Yes, we can make pancakes,” he pulled her close again, feeling her tiny body vibrate with little continuing giggles. “Just… five more minutes.”

“Daaaad.”

“Five more minutes, Gos.”  

He wanted to tell that to time. Look it in the face and hold onto his little downy child and say five more minutes over and over again until this moment stuck a permanent tac in itself and let them be. 

There’s a defeated sadness in the reality that it can’t be. 

By some miracle, though, she at least settles. Groaning and complaining, but wiggling closer and sighing deep. Her ear is over his chest. He wonders what his heart must sound like to her. Wonders if she used to do this with her grandfather- sitting on the couch with her ear just over his heart. Wonders if its a kid thing. Or just a her thing. 

Old Drake Mallard wags a finger at him from somewhere far, far back in his mind, motioning to the smallness of the twin bed and the ticking away of the time. Not acceptable! Spoling her! Martial rule! You’re Darkwing Duck, not a mundane suburban parent! There are things to do! People to save! Time is wasting! Time! Time is wasting!

Oh hush, says the new part of his brain. Father Drake, which evolves a little more each day, and who has started sprouting a pink apron over his daily ensemble, leans on an imaginary wall and crosses his arms, and ignores the clock. What’s five more minutes. Right?

Which was true enough.

Gosalyn wasn’t off trying to destroy something. There was no sound of breaking china or the screams of furious neighbors. No teacher calls about baseball in the hallways. No screaming matches between the two of them about the absolute parental rule he had over their home.

She’s falling back asleep, pancakes temporarily forgotten. Her breathing was soft, staggered with little snores. Her chest rising and falling between beats, and her legs twitching out every so often. He didn’t want to call it peaceful. God knows he hated the word.

It was… still.

That was the word he’d use.

Everything was just… still.

The flicker of the clock ticking, the careful and steady rain and the smothered sunlight through he shutters, the yowling of a siren farther off, and the soft, soft, soft breathing of the little girl.

He pulled her close and drew her in and matched his breathing to hers.

Five more minutes. 

What was five more minutes.

#darkwing duck #darkwing dad #TAKE THIS #two down #sort of??? #Darkwing Duck fic #it's sort of... all over the place #but you can have it #:)

[harley-quinnn]

Mister Leto

Jared Leto x Reader

Masterlist | Requests

Prompt: Hi, I was wondering if you could write me a more hardcore daddy kink Jared one-shot? I would love that so much

{A/N} This was fun. That is all. Also, I know Jared was always, always in character for this film in particular, but it’s a Jared one shot, not a Joker one shot, so please bear with me! xo 

Warnings: Hardcore daddy kink smut. More of a dream than a warning. Some cursing. “Remember, three mocha macchiatos, one with soy, one with extra mocha, and one with an affogato shot; One mocha frap.. and a pink drink for Margot.”

It’s your first day at Warner Brothers Studios for the new film Suicide Squad, and you’ve been lucky enough to be chosen to intern as an assistant/runner on-site. You knew this job would entail frivolous requests and long hours, for no pay, but it looked good on a resume and that’s all you needed. 

“Yes, sir,” you tell the head of studio, also known as “the boss,” who’s been gracious enough to help you take everyone’s Starbucks orders.

“Hurry up!” he pushes as you turn to leave.

You head off to the Starbucks on the lot for tourists in a cafe area. You watch as people snap pictures of everything from the cafe itself to the large buildings that surround it, shaking your head at the starstruck people who clamored in front of an iPhone. After a slight wait, you grab the drink trays and hightail it back to Studio B, almost tripping on yourself as you see the boss speaking with Jared Leto himself. 

You had heard rumors that he didn’t speak to anyone and that he stayed in character one-hundred percent of the time when he did. He wasn’t completely in character yet. His hair was still brown, his brows were existent, and he looked absolutely gorgeous. The nerves in your body send signals to your stomach, and you inwardly grow anxious. You have to go up to them, you have to interrupt their conversation with a measly drink; he has to notice you, at least a little. Sucking up the nerves, you pretend to be as confident as possible. “He isn’t even here... He isn’t even here,” you tell yourself.

“Here’s your extra mocha macchiato, sir,” you finally interrupt, not caring what they were talking about as you continued on with your drink rounds without so much as a glance in their direction. You hand a perspiring cup off to Will, Margot and the rest of the cast and crew who requested beverages before realizing there were none left. A quick peek over your shoulder tells you Jared and the boss are still speaking. You immediately exhale through loose lips. “Okay. I got this.”

The clacking of your heels accompanies your smile as you stand next to them, keeping a courteous distance while you await the direction of your next task. 

“Ah, there you are,” he says, “Jared, this is {Y/N}, the new runner I told you about.” 

His eyes meet yours and it’s like fire. Your entire body begins to beg for your permission to go limp. Quietly, you tell it to get a grip. His vascular arm extends towards you, holding his hand out to shake yours.

“I’m Jared, nice to meet you. It’s your first day and I’m already hearing some pretty great things about you. Great things. You internally scream with joy.

His smile could kill you if you let it, but you still had work to do. Pulling yourself together, a smile graces your {F/C} lips. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Leto. I look forward to taking orders from you,” you say, not catching the innuendo you’d just let slip.

“Oh yeah?” He smirks, eyes still on you.

A soft blush graces your {S/C} cheeks. Did he really just say that? Trying to stay professional, - and not lose your mind - you keep your composure the best you can. 

“Of course, Mr. Leto. It’s my job.”

His smirk turns into a smile now, and he nods his head with an impressed expression on his countenance. It’s like you’ve either passed a test, or failed it, and you’re unsure of which he preferred. They continued their conversation for just a few moments longer before Jared paused. You swallow hard, unsure of what’s going to happen.

“Can I have her as my personal?” he says, catching you and the studio head off gaurd.

Your eyelids flutter in shock at his strange request, the confusion written all over your features gives you away immediately.

“Sorry, let me explain,” he starts. “You’re the only one who’s done this job so far who’s gotten any praises from this guy,” he finished, patting him on the back as if that’s supposed to let you know that that was a good enough explanation.

The boss, on the other hand, looked troubled, which concerned you all on its own. You stay quiet as you await his response. Your insides were burning with a desire for him to let you do this. “Please, please, please,” you begged in silence.

“Jared, are you sure you want to do that, she’s so... So new. I can’t-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll teach her a few things.”

His tone is ice cool and yet lava hot. “Is this some kind of game?” He sighs before giving in, something you guessed anyone would do for Jared, and shrugs. 

“She’s all yours, Leto. Try to go easy on her, at least. And {Y/N}, consider yourself lucky. Jared never takes to the new runners like this.” And with that, he trotted off to throw more comic books at Margot.

The silence that followed was deadly. It was all too awkward for you as you kept your eyes on the studio head as long as humanly possible before he disappeared. “What now? I’m his personal runner. And I should be lucky.”

“So,” he broke the silence first. “I know you have to be confused as hell right now.” 

You nod, suddenly finding ground to stand on when you realize he understands.

“Yes, Mr. Leto. I have no idea what I did, but I guess it was the right thing,” you say, offering a small grin. “Please, call me Jared,” he smirks, gesturing for you to follow him.

You follow beside him back to his dressing room. The walk is quiet though you hoped he’d explain a little more as to what you did to deserve such an honor. He opens the door for you and leaves it cracked once he follows, sitting down in the chair across from the mirror and picking up the script.

“Make yourself comfortable, it’s gonna be a little while,” he breathes a short laugh and you relax, moving swiftly to the couch and sitting down. 

You smooth out your skirt on the couch and politely look around, waiting, you guess, for the next task he’ll give you. He leans into the mirror, grabbing an eyeliner pencil and examining his face.

“What made you take this internship?” he asked.

“Oh, um...” You have to think, completely caught off guard by his small talk. Most jobs like this lent no room for questions, or really noticing the intern at all. “I’d love to work in the entertainment industry. Warner Brothers is my favorite, and I took the opportunity the moment I heard about it.”

He glides the pen under his eye, forming a small J.

“Do you like to act?” he asks, concentrating on his face. Though he sounds distracted, he also sounds as though he’s only focused on you.

“I love acting.”

“Beautiful,” he says in a new tone. A Jokery, tone.

“I’m not very good at it, but-”

“No, you,” he says next.

“Oh... Thank you, Mr. Leto.” You say softly, your {S/C} cheeks blushing as his eyes meet yours in the mirror. His stare is like paradise, and you could get lost in it forever. The small smirk that graces his lips as he applies another ‘tester’ face tattoo for the role is electrifying. Like a dose of heroin that any desperate junkie would find satiating. You feel the flower between your thighs dampening and look away, shifting in your seat on the couch.

“Be professional, {Y/N},” you think. “God, this is so unprofessional. At least he isn't like this with the other interns... No. He’s just preparing for the role... Relax-”

In two seconds, you’re pressed against the backrest of the couch and he’s leaning over top of you before you even realize what’s happened.

“Say it again,” he breathes, his expression a hard, desperate gaze as his mouth is slightly agape. You suddenly feel like his next meal rather than a new assistant. But the way his chest is silently heaving and his fingers are gripping the back of the couch on either side of your head, you don’t care.

“Mister Leto..” You draw out, your voice just octaves away from a signature baby-voice, “Sir..”

“Oh... Yeah..” he says, rolling his neck back. “I have to admit, the moment I saw you, and how well you take orders... I had to have you all to myself.”

Something about that entire sentence was so satisfying to you. The mere thought of being at Jared’s beck and call was more arousing than anything you’d experienced before. Your chest rises and falls, the tops of your breasts tightening against the {F/C} strapless top you wore under a blazer. Reluctantly, you reach a hand up to touch his chest over the tank top he had on. A hand grips around your wrist and it’s almost as if you expected it, a smirk subconsciously playing across your lips. He leans in closer, his lips hovering over yours before moving slowly to your cheek, then your jaw, and settling just over your ear.

“First,” he rasps, “I want you to take that jacket off for daddy... Can you do that for me, princess?”

You nod quickly. 

“Holy shit, is this happening?” 

Your hands work at the buttons on your blazer with haste, not wanting him to come to his senses and change his mind. Sliding out of the jacket now, his eyes are on your every delicate movement you make. He can’t wait to change that; to twist your delicacy into rough submissiveness. 

“Good girl...” He says, bringing his hand to your waist and sliding it down to your hip. His touch is possessive, almost as though he’s hoping you won’t change your mind either. Your {E/C} eyes are fixated on his face, a jawline that could cut ice, lips perfectly shaped... His hand glides further down, igniting an anxious feeling now as a small laugh escapes him. He can tell you’re waiting for him to ‘scratch your itch,’ and he’s enjoying every moment of your new found desperation for him, and only him. Very softly, you feel his fingertips on the hem of your skirt, inching it up slowly as he presses his lips against your ear. 

“Do you want me, kitten?” he asks, his voice smooth as velvet.

“Yes..” your voice trails, leaving you breathless.

“Yes what, baby girl?” “Yes, daddy...”

“If you don’t address me the way you’re supposed to, I’ll have to punish you,” he says, quickly standing back up in front of you.

In a whirl your world shattered, thinking you’ve made a huge mistake and now you’re left with nothing but the ache in your center. On the other hand, you notice the hard-on in his jeans, and the dampness of his skin. He was holding himself back more than you thought. 

“This could be fun...” you think.

“And just how do you expect to do that?” you ask, trailing your fingers now to the pushed up hem of your skirt, holding his stare.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns, his tone harsh. The sound of it floors you in all the best ways possible, and you slide your fingers further up, spreading your legs and revealing your {F/C} thong to him.

“If your fingers even get close,” he says, reaching for his belt, “I’ll have no choice.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to have a choice,” you say, your brows lifting with a slight mocking tone as you let your fingers touch the damp, lacy fabric that barely covered your folds. You have no idea how far into this he could be, but you wanted him to push you to the ends of the earth if he could. Before you know it, you’re being pulled onto your knees with a belt looped around your neck. The faux leather is warm from his own body heat, and a smirk plays across your lips as you realize you’re eye level with his crotch. Reaching out to undo his pants, he stops you with a yank of the belt.

“I told you I’d have to punish you, princess,” he says, staring down at you, “I meant it.”

His free hand reaches down to undo his own pants, pushing them down with his boxers, swiftly revealing his hard cock to you. Your breath hitches at the sight. “Fuck.. It’s so big..” Suddenly, you’re intimidated and excited all at once. You can feel your own sweet spot throbbing as your brain disconnects from all reason, wanting nothing more than wrap your {F/C} lips around him. You lean forward, and pulls you back with the belt slowly.

“Nah-ah, kitten. You take daddy’s cock as he gives it to you, got it?” He says, moving just a little closer to you. You can’t handle the teasing. It was bad enough you wanted him inside of you, but now waiting just to get your mouth -and even hands- on it? He’s insane. But you hopelessly love it.

“Yes, daddy..” You say, submitting just to get a little taste.

“That’s my girl,” he says, giving in to his own desire as he allows you to take his member into your mouth.

Your eyes close just for a moment, in savory of his most private and sensitive part completely in your care. Running your tongue over it, sliding it into your mouth further and sucking on it, taking it all like a champ. He quickly became your own personal piece of candy. He groans, causing your eyes to open again, trailing back up to him. His head is bent back and you take pleasure in knowing it’s all because of you. 

“Fuck,” he grumbles under his breath before you feel his hands roughly gripping into your hair, holding your head still as he begins to thrust into your mouth, watching you take his cock like the good girl he expected you to be. A wicked smirk lightly dances on his features as he watches you choke and moan, your throat opening and closing around him as your eyes grow wet. His groaning and thrusting is cut short when he notices your hand reaching for your own sex.

Immediately, he pulls you back by the belt, causing you to fall back against the seat of the couch.

“What daddy..?” You say, wiping some of the saliva from your lips with the back of your hand, turning your pout into a lipstick-smeared mess. “I can’t help it, I...” Your voice is tiny and pleading while you trail off, and your messy pout unhinges him more than even he’d like to admit.

“That’s my job, darlin’,” he says sternly, lifting his brows. His eyes land on your hand as he un-loops the belt from your neck, clearly out of breath.

“Bend over,” he commands, and you know it’s time you face your punishment.

You do as he says, the belt’s buckle shining from his hand exciting you. Slowly, you open your legs ever so slightly as you bend over the couch. There’s a glint in his eye as he walks towards you, pulling off his tank and tossing it to the floor. You bite your lip at the sight of his muscular build, he’s amazing, built like a God. You can’t wait to feel every inch of him that you can pounding into your now soaked core.

When he sits down, you whimper. It’s as though your entire body is tingling with arousal. His hand makes contact with the back of your thigh and it sends a chill down your spine. A smirk is evident as he notices the goosebumps forming on your soft {S/C} skin. He slides the fabric of your skirt over your ass with ease, letting his hand linger on it before pulling it away. He admires you like a kid who just wants to play with a new toy while its still in the box. Snapping the belt between his hands, he gives you no time to prepare before you feel an extreme stinging sensation on your backside.

“Oh, yeah..!” You blurt out, the stinging continuing five more times before he decides he can’t take your moaning anymore.

“You like it when daddy punishes you, sweetheart?” he coos mockingly, grabbing your shoulder and pushing your face against the back of the couch.

“Yes... God, yes,” you breathe as he unzips the back of your top. You shift to allow it to fall underneath you before resuming your position, and he reaches to grope one of your breasts as his lips meet the nape of your neck.

“Tell me how bad you want me,” he says, trailing rough bites from your shoulder and down your back slowly.

“I want you to fuck me as hard as you can,” you breathe. “Like the bad girl I am...”

“Mmm,” he groans, groping your ass now as he positions himself behind you, pulling your thong down to your knees and letting it fall around your heels.

“You are a beautiful sight..”

He slaps your ass, gripping onto it with fervor. Your back arches under his hand as he slides it up your back now.

“Don’t you wanna fuck me, Jared..?” you ask, a sultry tone lacing your words.

His hand comes down on your ass again, and he steps closer to you, allowing you to feel his warm cock against your slick entrance. Your body shudders as you try to push your sex back against him; trying anything to feel him slide into your velvety walls. Absolute desperation overwhelms your mind and body. He pulls back just the amount that you try move, and slaps your ass again.

“Do I?” he asks as he does so, more rhetorical than anything.

“Fuck..” You groan as you feel his fingers sliding over your wetness now. He runs them back and forth carefully, teasing you in the worst way. Your swollen clit can hardly handle the faintest touch as he rubs it in small circles. He slides his slender finger back over you and drags it down your thigh. 

“Look at that.. So fucking wet.. What do we say...?” His tone is a breathy growl while he digs his fingers into either side of your hips now, dying to hear you beg. He can feel his own member throbbing as the head presses against your entrance, teasing not only you, but himself. 

It’s painful almost, the way he touches you now. Your nerves are all shot, sensitively receptive to pleasure in everything he does to you. You need the ecstasy, and he needs to give it to you. 

“Please, daddy.. Please, give me that cock, I want you to make me cum..”

“Oh princess,” he starts, grabbing your hands and holding them behind your back. He works at the belt, bounding your wrists together. “You don’t get to cum until I tell you to.”

With that, you feel his entire shaft pump into your dripping folds, kicking your leg open further with his foot. You can’t help but yell out in pleasure against the material of the couch at the sudden rush of satisfaction. His thrusting is slow and deep, letting you feel everything you've been craving since the moment he had you pinned to the couch. 

Unable to move your hands, you bite into the material before you, continuing to moan into it as your breathing grows heavier. You rock your hips to meet his as much as you can, the sound of flesh clapping together and filling the spaces in between each and every groan. Jared snakes a hand over your shoulder, tangling his fingers in your {H/C} locks. He yanks your head back as his rhythm speeds up. 

“You're such a good little girl for daddy, aren’t you? Taking this cock with no problem,” he groans.

You nod to the best of your ability and he breaks skin on your back with his nails now, dragging them back along your spine and ending it with a swift slap on the ass.

“Mm, yes, Sir..” You moan, “You fuck so good, daddy- harder...”

You didn’t need to tell him twice as his hand grabs your wrists, pulling you up closer to him. His toned chest is damp with the sweat he’d broken from teasing himself with you. He thrusts into you harder, hitting your g-spot with ease and bringing you close to tears at the pleasure he’s inflicting on you. His hand reaches around to grope your breasts, rolling your nipple between his fingers as the other remains tightly over your bound hands.

Your legs grow weak under the rest of your bod. His hard cock filling you is more than you can handle you while he holds you in place. In the sultriest of manners, he brings his hand from your breasts to your neck, squeezing it as he nibbles on your earlobe.

“Don’t you fucking cum without my permission, princess. You stay nice and fucking hot for daddy,” he growls into your ear, sending a sizzling heat through your center.

“Ooh, I... I don’t know how much longer I can hold out for you..” You say, your voice shaky as he continues thrusting, going even deeper than he had been before. The pressure on your sweet spot is indescribable, and the feeling welling up in you is dying to be released. Unable to keep quiet, your moans turn to small yells as you gasp for air.

He thoroughly enjoys the power trip, keeping you from doing the one thing you wanted in this situation- but he wants nothing more than for you to break the rules. Seeing you such a mess at the concept of himself inside of you is something he doesn’t want to end. His fingertips meet your pulsing clit now, every circular caress eliciting waves of pleasure through your groin. It isn’t until he presses down hard and lets himself go that you catch the brink of your own orgasm.

“Oh, fuck.. Faster!” You yelp, knowing you can’t keep your release away any longer as you feel your walls start pulsating fervently around his thick shaft in a sweet lustful euphoria. You lower yourself onto him as much as you can, carnal instinct taking over. This made taking his cock as deep and as hard as you could the only thing that mattered in your world. Going weak at the knees, Jared is the only thing keeping you upright as you ride out your orgasm. 

He groans into your ear, his hand gripping onto your neck even tighter as he thrusts faster, losing himself in you as he spills into your entrance, the warm feeling you recognized spiking your fever once more.

“You’re daddy’s little slut, huh? Making me cum like this..” His breathing is as wild as the pumping he’s doing. His eyes roll back, and though you can’t see it, you know he’s wrapped up in the same bliss you are as he rasps your name like it’s the only thing he knows. 

“Oh, Jared..” You groan as a few hard, deep movements follow, allowing you to once again savor every inch of him just as you wanted. Your mouth is slightly agape, and your hair is unruly over your face as you take pleasure in knowing you’ve satisfied him entirely.

A small gasp is all you can manage once he slows down and pulls out. Not wanting to look as spent as you feel, you take hold of the couch again, trying to gather yourself before sliding your skirt back over your thighs.

“I didn’t say I was done with you, baby girl,” you hear him say, your only reaction being to turn around with a blank expression as you zip your shirt back on. 

“You came before I told you to,” a smirk plays on his lips now as he zips and buttons his pants back up. “You broke a very important rule. And if I didn’t have to get on set for a read through, I’d punish you all over again right now.”

He’s a sight to see as you let yourself truly look at him. The post-coital glow he’s got makes him look even more like a God, and seeing him so disheveled only makes you want him all over again as your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“I couldn’t help it, Mr. Leto,” you say again, poking fun at your prior professionalism. “You didn’t bother making it very easy for me.”

He steps in front of you, his closeness providing you with a sense of safety now while his own eyes behold you in all your beauty; how perfect you still look though he’s happily ruined your makeup and wrinkled your clothes. You give an innocent smirk, handing over your still damp thong at the end of your fingertip to him. He takes your panties and smirks quickly before you’re met with another harsh touch- his fingers on either side of your jaw. It’s not nearly as rough as he’d just handled you, but just as full of desire. His lips meet yours with the same urgency, kissing you so completely and relentlessly that it takes your breath away.

Your eyes flutter open slowly after he breaks the kiss. A smile graces your features while the tips of your {F/C} nails brush against your own lips. He replaces them with his own thumb, dragging it down your lower lip almost carefully now, shoving your underwear into his pocket.

“Just wait till I get my hands on you again, {Y/N}.”

#Jared Leto #Jared Leto Fandom #jared leto fanfiction #jared leto smut #jared leto x reader #Suicide Squad #suicide squad fanfiction #jared leto joker #oneshot #one shot #OneShots #one shots #the joker one shot #imagine #imagines #joker imagine #joker imagines #the joker imagine #jared leto one shot #jared leto imagine #the joker #30 Seconds To Mars #thirty seconds to mars #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #harley quinn #joker x reader #masterlist

[mintyoongiskookie]

Just Work Stuff

Member: Jeon Jungkook

Genre: Fluff (OMG NOT ANGST FOR ONCE), humor, Fashion Worker!Jungkook

AU: “You’re older than me and a lot more professional and mature but you can’t help but laugh at my terribly childish jokes.”

Word Count: 2,529 sorry for any mistakes this is unedited 

A/N: BRUHHHH NO ANGST IT’S A MIRACLE!!! I was gonna do a secretary/business man one, but nope, I did this instead. Hope y’all like it!

      Another day, another five coffees, another smug co-worker, and more stupid immature jokes. Besides the fact that someday you’ll probably die from too much caffeine intake, you kinda looked forward to work. Well... More of a certain someone at the office.

      Your shoulders were hunched as you walked into the enormous building, clutching onto your black coffee for warmth. Your heeled boots clicked on the marble as you made your way to the gates, swiping your company card to get through. With your face buried in your knit scarf, you entered the elevator and pressed your floor. You cherished these quiet rides, having to  do nothing for a single minute. The rest of the day you were rushing around, fishing out outfits for the models, going to bougie shops to pick up orders, reading and re-reading and re-re-reading through important emails for the boss. But the second those double doors dinged and opened, you were met with pure chaos. There was an important fashion show happening at the end of the week, which meant everything had to be absolutely perfect or else quite a few people would be getting fired. People were already scurrying in front of you, trying desperately to hold onto the mounds of files, dressed, shoes, and coffee cups in their hands without dropping anything. Walking to your desk, you were accompanied by one of your best friends in the office - Jung Hoseok. He was probably the heartthrob of the company, and everyone loved him. To be honest, what wasn’t to like about him? He was perfect. He even substituted for models more times tan you could count, but he insisted to stay cooped up in his desk so he wouldn’t have to miss the office rush.

      “How many do you think will be gone this week? Five? Ten?” He took a sip of his coffee and ran a hand through his perfectly styled messy hair, his usual smile on his face.

      “Hopefully, none. We’ll be okay if we do everything right.” Hoseok was much older than you, him being in his late twenties while you were only twenty-three. You were an intelligent intellectual, getting into prestigious colleges early on, and graduating as the youngest in the class. people were shocked when you walked in one day, seeing your age on your resume, and your name being the topic in any whispers. The boss loved you, hired you, and had you working the next day. It was strange at first, having to get used to the age gap. But you were considered a comedian, your college humor cracking everyone up.

      He chuckled, helping you out of your long black coat. “If. That’s the catch.” He hung it up on the coat rack next to your desk, sitting himself on the top. “So what’s today’s plans?” Hoseok was your equal, both of you being the dynamic duo of the office. You two would work on everything together, from helping the models at shows to just getting paperwork done. Both of your desks were sat on either side of the entrance to the boss’s office, so you two were - thankfully - together for the whole day.

      Wrapping your yellow scarf around your chair, you checked your notepad. “Outfit help now, confirmation with the boss after, getting a new shipment from Versace, Gucci and Yves Saint Laurent at the meeting place. After that we have a giant dinner meeting with some other companies. Can you go to that, though? I thought you said something about going out with your family?” Hoseok had two kids and a beautiful wife, and they were quite possibly the most adorable family you had ever seen.

      His eyes widened. “Holy fuck, I do. God, shit, ugh, do I have to cancel on them?” You knew how much he loved his family, and the thought of having to cancel on them hurt both of your hearts.

      You smiled and laughed, hitting his shoulder. “I’ll take notes, go be a dad. Now c’mon, we all know how sad Tae gets if we aren’t there to help him pick out his Gucci.” We both laughed as we sped through the building, making our was to the exquisite storage room paced with the newest lines.

      “(Y/N)!!!!!! HOBI!!!” The deep baritone voice of Kim Taehyung caught your attention, his tall figure slithering his way over to you. “I thought you two were gonna leave me.” He playfully pouted as he crushed both of you into a hug. Taehyung was a world renown model, envied by all. You knew how privileged you were to even be in his presence at this moment, but to you, he was just another close friend. “Now, hurry hurry hurry I need your opinions!” He grabbed both of your hands and pulled you over to his... Expansive... Collection of clothing. You noticed some of the representatives from other companies here with their respective models, but you couldn’t help but stare at one in particular. He should’ve been a model too. But before you could get too deeply into fantasizing about him, Taehyung pulled you from your thoughts. “(Y/N)’s got a crushhhhh~”

      You learned a lot in college, and one thing was being able to hide your emotions. “I have a crush on a painting? I thought that was you, Mr. ‘I’m going to drag (Y/N) to a museum just to look at Van Gogh’s paintings’. Because I’m staring at that.” You jabbed your thumb in the direction of the painting next to the man you were staring at.

      He chuckled and turned back to Hobi, teasing you in a sing song voice. “Say what you want, but I saw you were staring at him~. His name is Jungkook. You’ll be seeing him at your meeting tonight.” How does he know all this? I never told him anything? You rolled your eyes, scanning over the huge rack of clothes to take the man off your mind, uttering a quiet ‘whatever’. You could feel eyes on you. You could just sense it. And your whole being was just praying that Jungkook didn’t catch you. You sat down on a chair, dragging it over to your two friends. Your coffee was finished, and Taehyung had left to change into his rehearsal outfit. 

      By the time  the run through was over, you could still feel someone’s eyes on you. Your boss, Mr. Kim Seokjin had sat with you during the pre show, so you and Hobi now had time to talk with the other models and reps. As if on cue, Taehyung came over with Jungkook and his model. You acted as if you didn’t notice, continuing to read through the notes Mr. Kim had you write down. At the sound of Taehyung’s forced cough, your eyes shot up, forcing a smile onto your lips.

      “(Y/N), This is Jeon Jungkook, and his model Park Jimin.” Both of the men were insanely handsome, and you graciously accepted their hands.

      “(Y/N) (L/N).” You shook their hands, noticing how long Jungkook’s dark eyes lingered on you.

      Tae must’ve noticed as well, so he cut through the silence and took matters into his own hands. “Jungkook here is the heir to his family’s throne. He’s known Jimin his whole life, and their company is very successful.” A buzzer rang over the speakers ahead, indicating that it was time to pack up everyone’s shit as fast as possible so they could continue preparing. Tae was called over somewhere else, as well as Jimin.

      In all of the rushing bodies, Jungkook’s gaze was still locked on yours. “I’ll be seeing you tonight at the dinner then?”

      Your words faltered the slightest, but you quickly regained yourself. “U-um, yes sir.”

      He chuckled, sliding a card into your palm as you both shook hands again. “You make me sound old, please, just call me Jungkook.”

      You smiled, knowing he was still much older than you, but you complied nonetheless. “Of course, Jungkook. I’ll see you tonight.” 

      You parted ways, trying to ignore how your pulse was throbbing in your ears.

      You and Hobi had returned from picking up the shipment, and the boss had let you both off early. He bid you farewell with a wave of his hand as he stepped into a taxi. “Have fun with your family!” You could hear his laugh from inside the taxi as he waved again. You made your way down the streets smiling, walking to your apartment. Your mind was drifting back to the Jungkook guy, your thoughts tangling with the state of reality. You could see him on everyone’s faces, reflecting in every shop window, and you couldn’t seem to understand why. Sure, he was attractive, almost everyone in your industry is. But there was something about him that caught your attention, and you had no idea why it was him in particular. You shook the feelings off, unlocking your front door. You smiled and greeted your dogs, pouring them some food, and heading straight to your bedroom to get dressed.

      After quiet some time, you were ready, and you made your way back down to the streets. You were cursing your lack of decision making skills for making you late, as you skipped on the whole taxi option. You composed yourself as you walked through the restaurant doors, nodding to the waitress at the front. You found the designated table at the large table near the westward window, finding only a few people gathered. Huh. So I’m not late. You were waved over by Seokjin, sitting next to him with your notebook in your lap. You greeted the others at the table, shaking hands with everyone. You felt those same eyes stabbing needles into you, the buzzing voices from all around you seemingly louder all of a sudden. Your eyes locked, his pupils blowing wider, a glint of mischief swimming around in them, a smirk growing over his lips. He was sitting next to you, feeling like you were enclosed in his grasp. And he was only shaking your hand. CALM. DOWN. YOU SOMEHOW GOT YOUR LIFE TOGETHER, DON’T LET SOMEONE WALK IN AND DESTROY IT BY SHAKING HANDS WITH YOU. 

      You retracted your hand hand away, sliding it down to pick up your pen. The point moved freely over the back page of your notebook, drawing comics of how you presumed the meeting would go. Little did you know, the man next to you was biting his cheek to keep from laughing. Guess he wasn’t just a flirt after all.

      By the time the other reps had arrived, you and Jungkook were having a full blown comic conversation. You had personalized your characters, doodling the company food fight, pulling down screens and pointing at graphs with a breadstick. You had both been unnoticed throughout the entire thing, everyone else’s eyes and ears being trained on their food and paperwork being moved around. You had no idea why you wee here, Jin was fully capable of doing this himself - and he was doing just that. Maybe he brought you for fun? Or food? Or accompaniment?

      Jungkook had been grinning ear to ear, trying to keep himself from bursting out laughing at your doodle of the fat man across the table eating your breadstick pointing stick. He was so much older; so much more mature, so professional, and he was laughing at your college humor doodles. It made you feel tremendously better.

      You two were invisible to the rest of the table, but at the thought of someone looking at you two, your heads shot up and toyed with your plate of food. By the time the “meeting” was over, you both had eight pages full of doodles and notes of the runways show in the margins. Hopefully neither of you would get fired.

      Hopefully.

      You shot up from your seats and walked out with each other, stopping at the door once you saw the pouring rain.

      “Shit.” Your voices rang in unison, laughs bubbling from your throats. You sighed and turned on your heel, walking out into the rain.

      “(Y/N)! Where are you going?”

      “Where do you think? My house.” You laughed and walked further out into the rain, stopping when his hand gripped your shoulder.

      “Bullshit. Not without me you aren’t.” He slips off his suit jacket - his crazy expensive suit jacket - and hands it to you as a replacement for an umbrella for the meantime. He was quickly getting soaked as he slung an arm around your shoulder and dragged you to the nearest Seven Eleven for an umbrella. You both stumbled into the small convenience store, leaning against the wall as you tried to catch your breaths from the sprints you did. You both looked at each other and laughed, your eyes trying not to wander down to the white dress shirt that was now almost transparent, showing his insanely toned torso. He pushed himself off the wall and grabbed two umbrellas and some packs of hot cocoa. He came back to you and handed an umbrella to you as he grabbed your hand in preparation for running back through the streets.

      You felt the tingles running up your arm, throughout your body - the sight of him dripping wet in a see through shirt not helping any. You stopped for a bit, looking up at him. “Why are you doing all of this? You could make it to your fancy penthouse with the snap of your fingers, but you’re walking me back to my apartment in a downpour?” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand that wasn’t encasing yours.

      “You’re different from everyone I’ve met. You’re funny. I mean, hell, you’re younger than everyone, but it’s nice to see a change. And I don’t want to fuck up our doodling bond.” You laughed, ignoring the flutter of your heart as he spoke. No, stop. You two just met today, there’s nothing going on between you two. Just comics during boring meetings. That’s. All. He’s too rational to be with someone like me, he’s older and smarter and so... Fucking... Hot... NO STOP (Y/N) JUST FOCUS-

      “Good enough for me. Now let’s go!”

      He laughed, and oh, what a beautiful sound. He tugged you out the doors and ran down the streets with you, following your directions that were interrupted with both of your laughs.

      You made it to your apartment, inviting him inside. You both drew out dozens of comics with each other over hot cocoa and soup. It happened more and more often, both of you staying over at the others’ house multiple times a week, whether for drawings, or dinner, or... Getting tangled in each others’ sheets, the rooms being lit by the moon, your names rolling off of tongues, cries of pleasure bounding off the walls. He made everything better, and neither of you cared about anything other than each other. But, as time passed, you both cared about two other things - your two children.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook au #jungkook scenarios #bts jungkook #bts jungkook au #bts jungkook scenarios #bangtan #bangtan boys #jungkook bts #bts jungkook smut #bts jungkook fluff #bts jungkook angst

[shippings-galore]

CEO of His Dreams (Sterek CEO AU) ((will be posted on AO3 later today or tomorrow)

 Hale Industry was one of the biggest architectural company in the world. They have built impressive skyscrapers in different countries, and have many headquarters in different US embassies, but the main headquarter was located in the center of Beacon Hills.They have donated millions of dollars to many charities and have helped promote the idea of environmentally friendly materials and power.

 Hale Industries was owned by one of the most attractive men in the entire world, Derek Hale. And yeah maybe Stiles was exaggerating it a little bit, but Derek was the most attractive man he had seen so far. Derek had already won the Sexiest Man Alive in People’s magazine four times in. A. Row.

 Dark hair, breathtaking kaleidoscope eyes, perfect stubble, nice smile, sweet and caring personality, a giant fluffy puppy, heart of gold, dimples, bunny teeth, and way out of Stiles’s league. There was no way in all the world that Derek would be in to a geeky lanky man that was 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bone. And before you ask, no Stiles was not a gold digger. Never ever would he take advantage. He was raised by the greatest parents ever. Derek could have 2 cents to his name, and Stiles would still fall madly in love with him.

 Stiles sighed and drummed his pen on his desk with one hand and pushed up his glasses with the other. He stared at his computer screen with tired eyes before taking a long drink from his huge steaming cup of coffee.

 “What’s that? Your seventh cup of coffee?” Scott asked from his desk beside Stiles.

 “Yes. I stayed up all night typing up this report.” Stiles pointed to the screen.

 “Stiles… You need to rest. With work here, the job at Deaton’s, and helping your dad at the station, you barely get enough sleep.” Scott shook his head.

 “Well someone has to keep the bills paid.” Stiles snapped.

 “You’re dad told you it was better if you lived with him so that you wouldn’t worry about bills when you lived by yourself.” Scott reminded him.

 “Yeah well I’m 25. I’m not going to keep living with my dad.” Stiles rolled his eyes.

 “Alright. Whatever you say Sti-ohmygod.” Scott hissed and spun back around to face his computer.

 “Aw thanks Scotty. I do think I am a god. Scott. You can’t ignore me. I will throw a pencil at your head.” Stiles threatened.

 “Stiles. Look who’s coming.” Scott whispered.

 Stiles rolled his eyes and sighed before turning around. His breath caught in his throat, and his heart began to beat a thousand miles per hour. Derek fucking Hale. The CEO of Hale Industries. The Sexiest Man Alive. The man of Stiles’s dreams. Was walking right towards him.

 WAIT.

 Derek was walking straight towards him.

 Oh my god.

 Stiles let out a quiet squeak and turned to his computer as subtly as he could. From in front of his desk, Lydia Martin snorted at the failed attempt. Stiles gulped and quickly hit print on the computer and grabbed his coffee and took a long drink, completely draining it.

 “Mr. Stilinski.” Derek said.

 “It wasn’t me! Scott did it!” Stiles yelped and pointed to his best friend, who cried out and spun around.

 “Excuse me?” Scott glared.

 Stiles laughed nervously and threw an apologetic glance at his friend.

 “I’m sorry I just did that. Force of habit. What can I do for you, Mr. Hale?” Stiles asked surprisingly calm.

 “It’s fine. I came here to tell you that I’d like for you to be my personal assistant.” Derek smiled softly.

 Stiles gaped for a good five seconds before Lydia cleared her throat, snapping him out of his shocked stage.

 “Yes of course. When do I start?” Stiles asked.

 “Is tomorrow good for you? You can start moving your stuff to my office today?” Derek suggested.

 “Tomorrow is perfect. I’ll just turn this report in and get right to packing up my stuff.” Stiles smiled brightly.

 “Let me.” Derek said and took the report from Stiles’s copy machine and stapled it, “Mr. McCall could help you move your stuff?”

 “Oh he was going to anyway.” Stiles smirked and looked over at Scott.

 “Good to know you have friends you can count on.” Derek smiled, “I’ll see you later. Do you want anything for lunch? I’m heading to the sandwich shop around the corner.”

 “Oh no, Mr. Hale, I-”

 “Derek. Call me Derek, unless we are somewhere where we have to be professional. And don’t worry about it. I want to get you some lunch.” Derek reassured.

 “Oh… Okay… I’ll have a BLT if that’s okay. And you can call me Stiles.” Stiles responded with a sheepish smile.

 “Alright, Stiles, I’ll get you a coke too. Unless you hate that soda.” Derek arched a brow.

 “Coke is fine.” Stiles said.

 “Okay. I’ll drop this off and get lunch. See you later.” Derek waved as he walked back to the elevators.

 Scott whistled and patted Stiles on the shoulder, “Stiles, you just got promoted.”

 Stiles let out a noise and hugged his best friend.

 “Stiles. Don’t cry.” Scott sighed.

 “I can’t help it. Scott, I’m Derek Hale’s personal assistant. I quit Deaton’s. And I think my dad said something about a new couple recruits so I don’t have to work there either. I get to spend time with Derek, Scotty. The man of my dreams.” Stiles whispered.

 “Let’s get stuff packed up. I’m pretty sure half of Beacon Hills already knows since Lydia is smirking at her phone.” Scott sighed and went to get a box.

   ~~~~~~~

 “Derek, really I don’t need this place.” Stiles said for the tenth time in the span of 15 minutes, “I’m fine where I live.”  

 Stiles had spent a week as Derek’s personal assistant, and it had been the best of Stiles’s life. Between planning meetings, answering calls, making sure they were on budget, and reviewing presentations with Derek, they had actually become fairly close. They would go out for lunch a few times a week, and would even go out for dinner when they were stuck in the office late.

 Spending time with Derek was the best that Stiles could ever ask for. One thing he learned about his boss was that he was extremely giving and provided anything for his friends. Like currently, Derek was showing him around an apartment that he wanted to buy for Stiles.

 “Stiles, your apartment complex is unacceptable. The landlord doesn’t care about the problems in the building but charges too high for an apartment so… disgusting. I’m thinking about filing a lawsuit and buying that place because the people in there don’t deserve to live in a place like that.” Derek growled and glared at the floor.

 “Okay. Wow. I appreciate the fact that you care about the people who live there, but I don’t need an apartment like this. It’s just too much. And it makes me feel bad because you’re paying for it.” Stiles confessed as he scratched the back of his head.

 “Stiles, I want to pay for this. Let me do this for you. Please?” Derek said as he looked in to Stiles’s eyes.

 “Derek…” Stiles whined.

 “Come on, let me do this, Stiles.” Derek begged.

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed before nodding.

 “Good. Now come on, let me show you your bedroom. I’ll help you move in tomorrow, and even make a small party. Invite who you want.” Derek grinned and pulled Stiles to the bedroom.

 Stiles felt his skin tingle where Derek was holding his wrist, and took in a deep breath to calm his nerves.

   ~~~~~~~

 “Derek.” Stiles sighed.

 “Stiles.” Derek arched a brow.

 “I’ll be fine with the suits off the rack.” Stiles pointed to the suits in the store.

 “I’d prefer that you accept what I’m giving you.” Derek said.

 “This is just too much, Derek. You already bought me a new apartment and now you want to pay for custom suits that cost hundreds of dollars?” Stiles pointed out.

 “I want you well taken care of. Plus this is the best way to get suits. Come on, James is waiting to get your measurements.” Derek smiled and waved to a small old man.

   ~~~~~~~

“I never knew this was how it felt to fly in a private jet.” Stiles sighed as he ate some warm nuts and delicious cheeses from the plate in front of him.

Stiles has been working as Derek’s PA for a month now. They’ve been to New York, Seattle, and Nashville, all on commercial flights. Hale Industries only used the private jet for international travel.

 “Do you want a coffee? We have different types of coffee drinks both warm and hot.” Derek offered.

 “Coffee?” Stiles perked up and turned to look at Derek with wide eyes.

 “Yep.” Derek stood up and stood up from his seat, “We have regular coffee too. Want a cup?”

 “Duh, of course I want a cup!” Stiles exclaimed and popped a piece of dill cheese in his mouth.

 “Thought so, I don’t even know why I asked.” Derek rolled his eyes fondly.

 And hour later, they landed at the airport and were on their way to the apartment suite they would spend in their five day business trip in Tokyo. Stiles’s eyes were comically wide and his mouth was agape as they rode the streets of the bright city.

 He couldn’t believe how amazing the city was, and he half expected for Godzilla to appear and destroy it. He chuckled to himself and pressed his face closer to the window as they passed a beautiful antique building. Tokyo was beautiful, and it reminded Stiles of the business trip to New York.

 They made it to their building and carried their things inside. A beautiful asian woman stood there with a card to their suite, a map of Tokyo, and a list of high end restaurants in the city. Derek thanked her and took the things before leading them to the elevators, Stiles a little behind as he gaped at the interior of the lobby.

 “This place is so pretty. And this building is so high end. I feel so out of place.” Stiles said sheepishly and glanced down at his jeans and t-shirt.

 “You look fine.” Derek reassured the younger man, though Stiles eyed his black button down shirt and dark jeans, “I think I’m going to take you to my favorite restaurant for dinner tomorrow. Best ramen I’ve had here.”

 “Oh okay.” Stiles nodded and calmed the butterflies in his stomach.

 They got to their suite, and Derek let Stiles in first.

 “Such a gentleman.” Stiles teased as he walked in, “Woah. Oh my. You can see everything.” He whispered.

 “Like it?” Derek asked, his voice surprisingly seemed to sound nervous.

 “This is amazing. Oh my god… Der, how much did you pay for this room?” Stiles turned to look at Derek with pursed lips.

 “Not too much.” Derek flushed.

 “How much?” Stiles continued and crossed his arms on top of his chest, his eyebrow arched.

 “Heh. We got a discount so we only paid, in total, $75,000 US dollars.” Derek replied and stared at the ground sheepishly.

 “What?” Stiles gasped and took a step back.

 “I wanted you to have a great experience in Tokyo since it’s your first time here.” Derek shrugged.

 “Derek, sit down.” Stiles ordered and pointed to the soft looking couch.

 The CEO did as he was told and sat down, just as Stiles sat beside him.

 “Why do you do this?” Stiles whispered.

 “Do what?” Derek asked.

“Why do you go out of your way to get me, me, the nicest and expensive things? I don’t understand. I know I’m your PA and friend, but I didn’t know being your PA will be like this…” Stiles furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the ground as he got lost in thought.

 “Stiles…” Derek sighed and placed his hand on his PA’s shoulder, “I just want you to have nice things. I want you to be happy.”

 Stiles looked up and locked eyes with Derek’s and tried not to get lost in to the man’s eyes as they seemed to change between green and grey. He licked his lips and swallowed as he caught Derek watching him. He squeezed his hands in to fists and tried to calm his beating heart, when Derek lifted his hand and gently touched his jaw.

 Just as he opened his mouth to say something probably stupid, his phone rang. He shook his head and pulled it out of his pocket.

 “This is Stiles Stilinski, Mr. Hale’s personal assistant. How may I help you?” Stiles answered, and it took a lot of self preservation to not sound as annoyed as he felt.

 Derek sighed and ran a hand through his hair before standing up.

 “We are not done here, young man.” Stiles whispered at his boss, and waved a finger at him.

Derek chuckled and left to shower. As soon as Derek was out of sight, Stiles mentally groaned and pulled at his hair in frustration. What was he thinking? What had just happened? Stiles seriously was not about to kiss his boss. He couldn’t. Wasn’t it illegal or something? Well whatever, Stiles could not kiss his boss.

Plus why the hell would his boss love him? Why would Derek fucking Hale want to kiss Stiles Stilinski? Derek I-get-whoever-I-want Hale. Derek I-am-too-sexy-for-anyones-eyes-to-handle Hale. Mr. Bunny Teeth with Very Expressive Eyebrows.

“Yes of course. Tomorrow 8:30 sharp? Let me check our schedule, if you could please give me a moment.” Stiles said professionally.

~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure you want me to go? I mean you could have another person go with you? I mean, not that I wouldn’t turn you down and I’d love to go, but I’m also perfectly happy with staying here. I just don’t want to start a new scandal. Plus I’m your PA.” Stiles chuckled nervously as he fixed his red tie.

It was the last night of their Tokyo trip. The next morning, they needed to get aboard a plane at 9 am. Tonight, they had to attend a business ball/party. Whatever it was, it was certainly fancy. And Derek invited Stiles to come with him as a date. Well not really a date date. They never really talked about it being a date.

“I want you to come Stiles. I really like you. There is no one I’d rather have come with me, except you. PA or not.” Derek smiled, his cheeks turning a light pink.

Stiles gulped and looked down at his feet, “I would love to go with you.”

Derek grinned and took Stiles’s hand before kissing his knuckles softly. Would you even call that a kiss? It was just a soft touch of lips on his knuckles. Even so, it caused Stiles to gasp in surprise and make his heart flutter. Derek opened his eyes and looked up at Stiles as he pressed his lips against his last knuckle before pulling away.

“Mr. Hale and Mr. Stilinski. You’re limo is here.” A voice said from the outside of the hall.

“Yes of course.” Derek called out before smiling shyly at Stiles, “you ready?”

“Y-yeah.” Stiles nodded rapidly and let himself be led out of the room and to the limo.

Just like Stiles feared, it was a publicized party. There was hundreds of paparazzi and important people, they even had a red carpet. A red carpet. This shit was serious. Derek got out of the car first, and then, like the gentleman he was, helped Stiles out. But once the door to the limo closed behind Stiles, never once did Derek let go his hand. They walked hand in hand through the crowd of paparazzi, smiling almost as bright as the camera. Sometimes Derek even wrapped his arm around Stiles’s waist and pulled him in close to his side.

“I didn’t know the party was going to be publicized. Okay I lie, I knew it was going to be publicized but I didn’t know there was going to be that many people here.” Stiles admitted as they walked in through the doors of the building.

Derek huffed out a small laugh before turning to greet the first important person of the night. What was his name again? Stiles forgot. But who cared right? He was just here because Derek was being nice, just like he usually is. So yeah maybe he could be a big jerk and broody asshole but it was just to scare people in the office. Stiles knew that Derek was a giant fluffy in the inside.

Stiles smiled and greeted the people along side of Derek, but after the 15th person, he got tired of it. How did Derek do this? Maybe a drink would help Stiles clear his head.Yeah that sounded great.

“I’m getting a drink, want something?” Stiles whispered in Derek’s ear before another person came to greet them.

“Just a dry martini. I’ll go join you in a little bit, ‘kay?” Derek promised.

“Sir yes sir.” Stiles teased and walked to the beautiful open bar.

“Can I get a dry martini and a daiquiri?” Stiles asked politely.

“Coming right up, sir.” The bartender nodded and began to work on the drinks.

Stiles turned to look at the crowd forming in the huge ballroom, and bit his lip. There was a lot of important people here. There was a lot of people, period. He scanned the room and searched for Derek, but there was too many people with dark hair and suits to be able to point out who was who. He stomped down the feeling of pure panic, and twiddled his thumbs for a little bit.

“Aren’t you a little bit young to be hanging out with the big guys?” A voice said beside him.

Stiles turned around and arched a brow at a man with sunglasses and a cane. He had a British sort of air around him.

“Yeah probably. I’m just a PA.” Stiles shrugged.

“I’m Deucalion. And you are?” The man, Deucalion, asked.

“Stiles Stilinski. I’m Derek Hale’s PA. Nice to meet you, Mr. Deucalion.

“Nice. Derek Hale? Why you must be the man everyone has been talking about. I now see why. You are a beautiful man.” Deucalion smiled.

“Thanks. I didn’t know people were talking about me. Way to boost my self-esteem. Whoopy!” Stiles joked and took hold of his two drinks as the bartender placed them on the bar top.

“Deucalion.” Derek’s surprisingly cold voice cut through the air.

“Ah, Derek Hale. Lovely to see you again.” Deucalion smiled, making a shiver go down Stiles’s back.

“Can’t say the same about you.” Derek responded, his arms crossed on top of his chest and eyebrows expressing their own wrath.

“Beautiful PA. I’m jealous. I’d love to have a man like him around me all the time.” Deucalion winked at Stiles.

Derek’s jaw clenched and his eyes filled with disgust, “Shut up.”

“Derek.” Stiles hissed, “manners.”

“Listen to your PA. Don’t want to embarrass yourself do you?” Deucalion snickered.

Stiles felt his stomach clench as Deucalion reached over and ran his hand down his arm. Derek moved quick, thrusting his arm out and gripping Deucalion’s wrist. Deucalion grinned and Derek pushed his hand away.

“This is shit. You’re a shit.” Stiles snapped at Deucalion.

“Not a way to speak to the CEO of one of the biggest weapon companies.” Deucalion said.

“Weapons? No sir thank you sir. Now I remember you! You are CEO of Alpha Weapons! The one company I hate more than Kate Argent. That’s pretty high. Tell me, why the hell did you sell weapons to the bad guys? Going against your country. Shame. Sorry, Deucalion, I don’t think raging traitor is my type. I prefer dark haired grumpy men who are actually the sweetest things on the planet. Bye!” Stiles wiggled his fingers in a mocking wave, a proud grin splitting his face.

“Get the hell away.” Derek growled, “And don’t ever go anywhere near Stiles again.”

Deucalion flushed in anger before stomping away. Stiles let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and handed Derek his alcohol. Then he quite literally drank almost half of daiquiri.

“Did he do anything to you?” Derek asked, his eyes furrowed and his eyes filled with worry.

“Nah. He was just being creepy.” Stiles smiled.

“Sounds like him… I’m not leaving your side again.” Derek whispered.

“You’re the sweetest guy I’ve ever met.” Stiles admitted.

“... Hey… I prefer men with moles and honey brown eyes that are sarcastic little assholes 78 percent of the time.” Derek smiled shyly.

Stiles almost did a spit take. Almost. He calmly swallowed what was in his mouth and locked eyes with Derek.

“What?” Stiles croaked.

“I like you Stiles. I really really like you. I liked you since you first came in to my office for the interview and said that stupidly funny joke about the monkey.” Derek confessed.

“Oh my god… Derek…” Stiles whispered.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I mean just look at you. You are so breathtaking and so amazing. And I’m your boss and you’re my PA, but I don’t care. That’s why I bought you all those things because I was trying to make you fall in love with me. And like I said before. You don’t have to feel the same way. We can just ignore this confession never happened and-”

“Derek, you big idiot, I like you too! I’ve been wanting to go out with you since even before the interview. And then you became a millionaire and I thought you would think I was gold digger, but no. I could care less about money. You could be getting 2 cents per hour and I’d still be madly in love with you.” Stiles blurted out.

Derek grinned and set his drink down on the bar counter.

“Can I kiss you?” Derek asked.

Stiles set his drink down and smiled before wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck.

“Hell yeah.”

#sterek fics #my sterek fics #ceo sterek au

[lpdwillwrite4coffee]

CHILDREN OF LILITH CHAPTER TWENTY

“Excuse me, sorry, comin’ through, whoa sorry!” Boz weaved between slower going pedestrians and bolted up the stairs from the subway platform.

Making a wide turn, his boots scraped on the concrete as he immediately pulled up short, blocked by two moms with double strollers. Seriously? Hadn’t they heard of population control?

Boz ducked right, only to be cut off, so he moved left. Nope, not that way either.

“Okay really?” He blurted, waving his arms out. “We get it, your kids have that cute Double Mint Twin thing going for them. Now please get out of the way.”

Ignoring the vulgar shouting from the two women- who by the way shouldn’t be using those words around children old enough to repeat them- he jogged past them and took off at a dead run.

Regret twisted his stomach into a double Windsor. He should have never gone to the Bronx or to Queens. He should have stayed with Griffin and Nikki. And he definitely shouldn’t have eaten a Ruben with extra sauerkraut right before sprinting.

Slamming into the front door, he palmed the knob and skidded into the main room.

“I’m here, I’m here,” he gasped. “How are they? What happened? Is everyone okay?” He groaned and leaned over, supporting himself on his thighs. “Oh God… running… full stomach… I think I’m gonna hurl.”

“Chill, Boz,” Lisa commanded. “Everyone’s alive.”

She was standing behind Griffin, who was hunched over with his right forearm pressed onto the edge of the kitchen table. He looked like hell.

Forcing air down his throat, he stared at Griffin. “What happened?”

“Dislocated shoulder,” Griffin answered, voice turned to gravel.

“Another one? At this rate buddy, you’re gonna need orthopedic surgery before you’re thirty.”

The smirk Griffin flashed was inked in bitterness. “Looking forward to it.”

Lisa steadied herself behind Griffin and only offered Nikki a cautionary glance before she said, “Okay Griff, on three…” She placed her hands on him. “One-”

The loud crunchy pop of Griffin’s shoulder when she manipulated it back into the socket made Boz’s nausea multiply. “Oh, shit, that’s gross,” he mumbled against his fist.

Griffin cursed and slumped against the table. Tucking his chin, he squeezed his eyes closed and inhaled ragged breaths.

“Forget how to count?” he finally said through gritted teeth.

“It would have been much worse if you’d tensed up when I did that.” Lisa gave him a gentle pat on the bicep before going to the counter and grabbing a pack of gauze and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “Hey Boz, you mind giving me a hand?”

Boz blinked owlishly. “Ah… What else, exactly, needs to be done?”

“Help Nikki while I finish up here,” Lisa said, gesturing to the first aid kit on the table.

Relieved there weren’t any more joints needing to be returned to their natural positions, Boz nodded and strode over to the seat next to Nikki. Blood, guts, and nasty smells he could handle. It was the sounds that made him sick.

“What happened?” He asked, unraveling the cloth from her palm.

“I cut myself,” Nikki responded, expression as flat as her voice.

Removing the taped gauze from her palm, he whispered, “Yikes. That’s a deep one.”

“A box cutter will do that to you,” Griffin muttered sharply.

Boz glanced at his friend. He’s seen that look, heard that tone, too many times to count, but even this time felt different. The ice in his glare permeated.

Turning to Nikki, Boz asked, “Someone came at you with a box cutter?”

“I did.”

He frowned. “What?”

She lifted her gaze, gold staining the natural sapphire in the shape of a starburst, and Boz’s mouth went slack.

“I did it to myself,” Nikki explained.

He was about to ask why, when Griffin shot to his feet, waving Lisa off of him as she tried to clean a gash near his hairline.

Keeping his stare on the ground, he grunted, “I need a shower,” and strode past them.

“Be careful with your shoulder,” Lisa told him, tossing gauze onto the table.

The silence left in his wake was less than comforting. Boz couldn’t handle it.

“So… didn’t anyone tell you to be careful with sharp objects?”

Not even a smile.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Right. I’ll just…” and nodded at Nikki’s hand.

A hand that was scarily cold and trembling. Making sure each touch was as gentle as possible, Boz redressed Nikki’s wound and didn’t say another word.

* * *

There were two things Griffin had thought about himself for so long he learned to accept them as fact: That the sum of his broken parts still didn’t add up to much, and that whether or not he was capable of it, he wasn’t in a position to love.

He was fine with the first statement, but the second… The second was causing him a lot of trouble.

Griffin had heard what Doctor Oliver said, heard what he called Nikki. She wasn’t just a civilian, she was important to the Hunter race as a whole. So important, in fact, that Vampire Alphas were trying to make a public spectacle out of her death. She needed to be guarded, kept out of harm’s way, at all costs. And Griffin had been all too willing to fall in the line of fire if it meant keeping Nikki safe.

But seeing blood drip from her nose, feeling the energy drain from her as they ran; it wasn’t a sense of duty that had him forcing his keys into her palm and shoving her away, ordering her to run.

He had done it… to save the woman he loved.

It was selfish, really. He’d needed to keep her alive because he loved her.

His own fate be damned, as long as she was still breathing, then whatever happened to him didn’t matter.

And then Nikki came back.

She’d sliced her hand open and bled for him. The fierce determination in her eyes as she’d stared down four Newborns haunted him.

She had been ready to sacrifice herself for him… Just as he had been ready to do the same for her.

The implications of that were too much for him to handle.

Flattening his right hand on the tiled wall, he supported himself as he hung his head beneath the shower head and let the water run over him. Heat and steady rhythm eased the soreness in his muscles, but it did nothing to comfort the ache in the center of his chest.

Nikki had completely disregarded her own well-being, had risked her life… for him.

Griffin growled, baring his teeth to the wall in front of him. He shut his eyes as a new ache ripped through him. Nikki’s screams still pierced his eardrums, clawing their way through his skull. The color of her blood painted the inside of his eyelids.

Didn’t she know how stupid it was to come storming back into a fight with only a box cutter and a horrible sense of self-preservation?

What if she had died? Didn’t she realize how important she was? How could she be so careless with her own life when…

When I love her so much.

The idea of her willingly doing it again made him queasy.

My broken parts aren’t worth that cost, he thought, watching rust stained water circle the drain. I love her, and I don’t deserve her.

* * *

Nicholas drummed the tip of his pen on his legal pad and hummed a noise of acknowledgment. “Yes, I’m already aware of her Henson,” he said, adding another line to his doodle. He wasn’t much for note taking, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t look like he cared.

“Oh,” Henson mumbled, papers shaking in his hand. “Ah, well, Caroline was spotted in the building-”

“Yes, by me,” Nicholas intoned. “I’ve already spoken with her.” Sighing, he dropped his pen. “Is this really all you have? A couple Familiar sightings and news of Doctor Oliver’s suicide?”

“I… I’m sorry sir.” Henson began folding his notes. “Not much else has happened this morning.”

Nicholas curved his eyebrow at the man. “Oh really? Nothing else has happened? Nothing else has become evident in the last few hours? Nothing?”

Henson shook his head and Nicholas could hear his stomach churning. Jesus, if he threw up again…

“Perhaps I haven’t given you enough time to acclimate yourself to your new widower status,” Nicholas said, lacing his fingers together over his belly and leaning back in his chair. “Why don’t you take a couple hours? Go for a walk, have some lunch, hire a prostitute, and allow yourself to grieve.”

Henson’s eyes went comically wide and he paled. “Um…” He swallowed thickly. “I… Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Of course.” Nicholas beamed. “Enjoy your afternoon. Come back when you’re finished.”

“Finished,” Henson repeated, his tone flat. “Yes… Finished.”

Nicholas watched as the man got up from his seat and shuffled to the door. Maybe he’d broken him in too hard…

“And drink some tea,” he added. “Nothing that can’t be cured with a good cup of tea.”

Henson stared, unblinking, at him for a long moment before he nodded again. “Yes, sir.”

When Henson was down the hall, Nicholas pulled a travel sized squirt bottle of mild air freshener from his drawer and spritzed it around his desk and the opposite chair. Distraught humans always smelled a bit like a port-a-potty.

He’d only been reading the revised contracts from Tokyo for ten minutes when he heard the cadence of footfalls in the hallway.

“Come in, Alexander,” he called without looking up. “Please, make yourself at-”

His words were cut off by a vice-like grip around his throat, hoisting him out of his chair and leaving his feet to dangle several inches above the floor.

“How dare you?” Alexander shouted, fangs bared.

“’Sgood to see you too,” Nicholas wheezed.

“You have the audacity to interrogate my Caroline, alone, behind my back?” Alexander shook him. “Do you have a death wish? Because I’d certainly be willing to help you make it a reality.”

Grappling with his Sire’s hold on him, Nicholas inhaled raggedly. “In retrospect, my family did seem to have a history of depression and coinciding farming accidents but I don’t think that’s what you mean.”

Alexander’s fingernails dug into Nicholas’ flesh, drawing blood. “You arrogant piece of shit,” he hissed.

“To clarify, are you upset that I talked with Caroline, or that you didn’t know about it?”

“You don’t know your boundaries,” Alexander said with a growl. “Obviously I should have instructed you better when you were a Newborn.”

Fighting the hand clamped around his neck, Nicholas said, “Consider me the practice progeny. I’m sure you’ll get it right with Caroline.”

Alexander stilled. “What are you talking about?”

“Now, now Alexander,” Nicholas tsked. “Don’t try to play that game with me. You’ve never been very good at feigning ignorance.” He narrowed his cunning gaze, despite the growing discomfort of being held up by his throat, and noted the flash of anxiety in the other man’s eyes.

Releasing his hold, Alexander dropped him and Nicholas stumbled back into his chair. He coughed and rubbed the healing marks on his skin.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out about her?” Nicholas asked.

“There’s nothing to ‘find out’,” Alexander countered.

“If that’s the case, then why haven’t you mentioned her before? If she’s to be our new pack mate-”

“She hasn’t made the decision yet,” Alexander cut him off. “And until she does, you will stay away from her.”

“You’re giving me orders now?” Nicholas shot back angrily. “And here I thought we were a team. A joint force to reign over this ‘New Empire’.” He stood up, locking eyes with his Sire. “That was the arrangement, wasn’t it? Duel leadership with equal power and quadruple the profits?”

Alexander’s features hardened, schooled into an expression of mild irritation. “Of course.”

Smiling with too much teeth, Nicholas said, “Good. Because I’d hate to think you’ve changed your mind.” He stepped around him, heading for his drink cart.

“It’s a little late for that now,” Alexander muttered.

Nicholas hummed in ascent. “I’d say. Killing the other four Alphas in the city, taking over their aligned, drafting a new codex… Those are all very big steps into the land of no return.”

“You aren’t having second thoughts, are you?”

Nicholas scoffed over the rim of his glass. “And give all this up?” He waved his hand out at the surrounding office. “I’ve grown too attached to the view.”

Alexander nodded firmly. “Then we’re in agreement,” he said, turning towards the door.

“But Alexander,” Nicholas called, stopping him just before he made it into the corridor. “Next time I find out you’ve been keeping something from me, I won’t be so kind as to invite it to tea. So choose your secrets wisely.” His lips twisted into an acrid grin.

Eyes darkening, Alexander stared at him, searching his face. “And I would offer the same advice to you,” he said. Just before he crossed the threshold glanced over his shoulder and added, “By the way, you might want to invest in different air freshener. The one you use isn’t very strong.”

Nicholas waited until his Sire was out of range before crushing the glass tumbler in his hand and chucking the shards across the room.

* * *

Kaelin would know what to do.

That was the only thought Nikki had as she finished washing her face. Kaelin would know exactly how to handle the situation, know the perfect sentence that would sting but not wreck, and she’d do it with flare.

If she was there, she’d tell Nikki to get right in Hunter boy’s face and say what gives? Who do you think you are, ignoring me after everything that just happened? You think you’re big and bad, well honey have I got news for you. You’re not even close to being half as scary as me when I’m pissed, so if you wanna save what little bit of your manhood you have, you’d better spill right now. And make it speedy ‘cause neither one of us is getting any younger.

Nikki chuckled into the hand towel she was using to dry her face. Kaelin would have Griffin on his knees begging in two minutes flat.

If she was there…

I miss her, Nikki thought, staring at her blurry reflection. I want my friend.

Clearing her throat, she folded the towel, placed it on the counter and went to shut off the bathroom light. She could hear bits of the conversation downstairs, mostly between Boz and Lisa, but she decidedly didn’t care. She would care in a few minutes. But right then her only concern was changing clothes and keeping the tears at bay.

Closing her door, she headed for her duffle bag and began riffling through it.

His door. It was his door, to his room. And it was filled with his things.

Suddenly she was furious, standing in the middle of Griffin’s room, surrounded by everything… him. She didn’t want to be anywhere near it- near him. Not after he’d shut her out, leaving her dazed and cold. She hated the thought of going back to the kitchen, sitting there with everyone and having to pretend she didn’t want to throttle Griffin until he went blue.

She had gone back for him.

She’d watched a man shoot himself in the face- the horror of it still twisting behind her eyelids.

She had gone back to help, to give Griffin a chance, and after all of that- after everything she’d been through- he couldn’t even look her in the eye.

Maybe she was wrong. Kaelin wouldn’t have Griffin begging in two minutes, she would have skinned him in thirty seconds.

Yanking on a fresh pair of jeans and a clean tee shirt, Nikki kicked her bag back into the corner it had been in and stomped her feet back into her sneakers. Griffin was going to explain himself. Now.

She jogged down the stairs and rounded the banister, catching the tail end of Boz’s statement.

“… I guess I can try remote access but that’ll take longer.”

“Boz, you’ve cracked bigger systems in your sleep,” Lisa commented over the lip of her mug.

“Yeah, but with everything going on-”

“Just try it,” she said. She acknowledged Nikki with a nod. “Hey.”

“Where’s Griffin?” Nikki asked, knowing she sounded angry.

Lisa glanced over to the adjacent hallway. “He’s-”

“Thanks,” she said, moving into the dimly lit corridor just as Griffin stepped out of Boz’s office, staring down at his phone. When he saw her he slowed his gait but he didn’t say anything.

She steeled herself, blocking his path. “We need to talk.”

His expression was hard but his stare wavered momentarily. Good, he was worried.

Griffin hesitated before asking, “Can it wait?” Slipping his phone back into his pocket.

Nikki wanted to scream, No, this can’t wait, you asshole.

She started to do exactly that when Griffin cut her off.

“Amsterdam just called. He wants us over there in fifteen minutes.”

Oh for God’s sake… Folding her arms, Nikki bit out the word, “Fine.”

“Okay.” Griffin dropped the word like a stone in a bucket. He waited several beats before lifting his eyebrows in question. “So, if we’re leaving, then we should…” He trailed off, jerking his chin towards the main room.

Nikki spoke through clenched teeth. “Yeah. Sure.”

Griffin brushed passed, refusing to look at her. It stung worse than any insult.

Eventually trailing behind him, Nikki found herself in the kitchen, ignoring Lisa and Boz’s probing stares.

Lisa lowered her coffee mug, eyeing the two as they hovered awkwardly near the table. “Is everything-?”

Griffin wouldn’t let her finished the question. “John wants us at his place ASAP.”

“Cool,” Boz said, hopping up. “I’ll bring my laptop and work from there.”

“Boz-”

“No. Nope. We’re not doing this again,” he said, holding up his hand. “Lisa, me, Beulah-” he gave the laptop a gentle pat “-We’re all coming.”

Pulling his coat and holster off the back of his chair, Griffin started towards the door. “Fine. You’re driving.”

#Children of Lilith #free fiction #free novels for pandemic times #my writing #my work