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bellaireland1981 · 15 days

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Babymoon

Summary: You and your husband take a quick beach vacation before becoming a family of three.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female! Reader

Warnings: Illusions to smut, heavy making out, pregnancy, fluff, Jake being adorable. UNDER 18 DNI

Word Count: 2231 (look at me keeping it quick!)

A/N: Written for @thedroneranger 's Pick Your Poison writing challenge. Inspiration for the fic was Sex on the Beach As always, I do not own the Top Gun Maverick characters but all OCs and Reader insert concepts are my own and storylines are mine. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, copied, reposted to other sites, used in AI generators and sold on any platforms.

Masterlist

“Angel, are you sure you’re not overdoing it?” Jake asked as the two of you made your way down to the beach from your hotel room. “We can relax in the room for a bit or sit by the pool if that’s better…”

At 7 months pregnant, you were getting close to the point of no travel and Jake had surprised you with a last minute “babymoon” down to Mexico. He wanted the two of you to have one last opportunity to be spontaneous and fly off for a romantic getaway before you become parents.

“Jake, I love you, Stud…” You said, looking up at your husband, a coy smile on your face, “I promise I’m not overdoing it. I just really want some time on the beach with my sexy husband and baby daddy…maybe some sexy time on the beach with my husband.”

“You’re a menace, Angel.” He chuckled, pausing your walk to the beach to steal a quick kiss. “But anything for my sexy pregnant wife” kissing you again, “Beautiful mother of our daughter.”

“Our daughter is going to have her daddy wrapped around her tiny little finger.” You smirked, as you continued toward the beach.

“Just like her Momma.” He replied, chuckling. “Wouldn’t want it any other way, Angel.”

He led you to a cabana area he’d rented for you for the day. There were beach loungers set up in front, where you could lay in the sun and soak up the warm rays, but there were also loungers in the cabana to allow you to lay down out of the sun and rest without having to leave the beach. It came complete with full food and drink service from the resort. Your amazing and perfect husband had thought of everything.

“Before you get all comfortable out there, darlin’ you need sunscreen.” Jake reminded you.

“Are you worried about me burning…or do you just want a reason to rub your hands all over me in public without the threat of getting arrested?” You teased him.

“A little of both.” He admitted with a smirk, “I’ll always take any excuse to get my hands on my wife, Angel, you know that… it’s why you’re currently pregnant.”

“Does this mean I’ll be spending a lot of time pregnant over the next five to ten years of our marriage?” You laughed.

“I will happily give you as many babies as you want Angel.” He said, pulling you close, one hand naturally finding its home on your swollen belly, the other behind your head, tilting your head back before capturing your lips in a tender kiss.

“Let’s see how things go with our daughter first.” You suggested, “So far, she’s a handful just like her daddy.”

“The morning sickness finally eased up.” He reasoned, “And after several talks recently, she’s no longer using your bladder as a punching bag.”

“True.” You acknowledged, “Now she’s using my kidneys and rib cage for soccer practice and I swear she takes joy in giving me major heartburn.”

“I’ll have another talk with her.” He smiled, “But you’re not fooling me. I see you when you don’t think anyone is watching… or listening. You’re loving every moment, kidney shots and all.”

“I really am.” You sighed happily, rubbing your hand over your belly where your daughter was safely growing and developing. “I can’t even describe the feeling… knowing a part of you and a part of me…growing inside me. Getting to feel her move and being this close to her… knowing that once she’s born, I’ll never be this close to her again… I’ll have to share her, I’ll no longer be able to protect her from the world… It’s an incredible thing.”

“It’s pretty damn amazing from this side of things too, Angel.” He said gently, his hand joining yours on top of your belly, “Watching our little girl grow inside of you, knowing I helped put her there… seeing you literally grow a human, OUR human… protecting her, nourishing her, loving her… it about brings me to my knees. You’re already the most amazing momma in the world, Angel. Our little princess is so lucky she gets to have you as her momma. As for protecting her once she’s on the outside… I have zero doubts you’ll be fierce and badass at that. I’ve seen you in action protecting those you love. She’ll have us, and a squad full of uncles and aunts to keep her safe. Our little girl will be just fine.”

“You’re gonna make me cry.” You sniffled, tears threatening to spill over. “Not like it’s hard to do… it’s kinda low hanging fruit.”

“You said it, Angel.” He laughed, “But you’re adorable when you’re all emotional.”

“I love you, Stud.” You said, snuggling into your husband.

“I love you too, Angel.” He replied, holding you close.

After a moment, once the emotions had calmed down you pulled back a bit, “Can you put sunscreen on me now?”

“Absolutely,” He agreed, grinning, “Let me grab the bottle. Sit down on the lounger and I’ll get you all sorted.”

The two of you spent time laying in the sun, you reading a steamy romance novel, Jake reading an updated manual for new equipment to his jet.

“You know, My Love,” You teased him, “We’re on vacation, you shouldn’t be working.”

“I enjoy learning about my jet, Angel.” He defended himself, “Besides, wouldn’t you rather I know everything there is to know about it so I can be extra safe?”

“You already know that jet down to the last screw.” You laughed, “And I love that you’re thorough, Babe… it makes it a little easier to send you off on missions and deployments because you tackle those the same as your jet and you learn every detail given to you. I love that about you.”

“I will always do everything in my power and control to come home to you and our little girl.” He promised.

“I know.” You smiled, “And I know that you have amazing squadmates who have your back.”

“They’re alright.” He laughed playfully. Truth was, you knew he loved all of the Daggers and would do anything for them. He’d already been best friends with Javy coming into the Uranium mission that had formed the Daggers, but afterwards he and Bradley had formed an unbreakable bond and a strong friendship. Bradley had even asked Jake to be his best man in his wedding the month before. “Feel like getting in the water?”

“I could cool off.” You replied, “Going to need help getting up though.”

He set his manual down under his towel so it wouldn’t blow away and reached for your book so he could set it next to his before reaching out to lift you up. You swayed slightly into him, the change in position causing you to feel slightly lightheaded.

“Easy does it, Angel.” He said, “Are you ok? Do you need to go inside to rest for a bit?”

“No, I’m ok.” You replied, “I just stood too fast. Let’s go into the water, then we can cuddle in the cabana for a bit.”

“Cuddle?” You asked, smirking.

“Behave.” He chuckled, playfully swatting your butt.

You laughed, taking his hand and the two of you walked to the water. There were some waves but the surf wasn’t overly active. Jake still made sure to keep you close and his hands on you at all times while you were both in the water. You waded out until you were mostly past the break, the water to your chest, but barely above Jake’s belly. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in as close as possible with your very pregnant belly between you.

You leaned up on your tiptoes, your arms around his neck, pulling him down so you could kiss him. You didn’t hesitate to swipe your tongue over the seam of his lips, seeking entrance into his mouth. His own tongue came out to meet yours, the kiss deepening. He let his hands wander down to your butt, rubbing over your bikini clad cheeks.

“What are your thoughts on sex on the beach, Angel?” Jake asked, his head dipping down to kiss over your neck and shoulder.

“Oh my God.. I MISS those amazing little cocktails.” You sighed, “Penny makes the BEST Sex on the Beaches.”

“Angel, I was talking about literal sex on the beach.” He groaned, still trailing kisses over your collarbone, tasting the salt from the ocean water.

“Pretty sure THAT is how I ended up pregnant, Stud.” You teased him.

“The night after the bonfire?” He asked, lifting his head to look at you, a smirk playing on his lips, “Seriously?”

“The timing is perfect.” You shrugged, “Lord knows I DRANK enough of those sneaky little cocktails that night…”

“I remember.” He said, his voice going husky, dropping deeper, “You suggested we do an experiment to see if actual sex on the beach was as good as the drink.”

“Well, it looks like it exceeded expectations.” You giggled, pulling his head down to kiss him.

“So, how about round two?” He asked, his hands wandering back down to your butt.

“I’m way too pregnant to end up with sand in unfortunate places, so how about sex in a cabana?” You compromised, smirking.

“I think it’s time to head back to shore, Angel.” He replied, scooping you up bridal style and carrying you in towards the shore.

“Jake!” You squealed, “Put me down! I am way too heavy!”

“Angel, I can handle carrying my girls just fine.” He promised, “I would never let anything happen to either of you.”

“Such a softy.” You said, letting your fingers run over the wet hair at the nape of his neck.

“Don’t let that get out.” He teased, “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“The gig is up, Babe.” You laughed, “Everyone knows you’re not really an asshole. As soon as they saw you with Ruben’s kids it was all over.”

He carried you out of the water and over the sand back to the cabana before setting you back on your feet. It had shades that could be pulled down for privacy and to block out more sun, which Jake took advantage of as soon as you got inside the cabana. There was a large sun lounger that looked more like a bed, in the middle of the cabana with small tables set up on each side. With the shades pulled on the sides and the light weight material used as a curtain in the front of the cabana let down, it gave you a little privacy from prying eyes of other resort guests. It was at least a private beach, only open to those staying at the resort.

“This might have been easier before we were all wet.” You said, winding your arms around his neck as he came back to stand in front of you. “Now our suits are all clingy”

“Hmmm,” He hummed, leaning down to nibble at your jawline before working back towards your ear, whispering “I prefer my wife to be wet and clingy.”

A shiver ran through your whole body, arousal flooding your system, soaking your already wet bikini bottoms.

“Jake” You moaned, trying to push up against him, as much as your very pregnant belly would allow, “I need you to fuck me.”

“Your wish is my command, Angel.” He replied, guiding you back towards the lounger. He untied your bikini top, letting it fall to the floor of the cabana, making sure to block you from view of the outside world. “Fuck, I love your boobs.”

“Thought you were an ass man, Stud.” You smirked, knowing that your husband had been infatuated with your boobs since you’d become pregnant. They had increased two cup sizes by this point in your pregnancy, and you were told they’d get even bigger once you were breastfeeding your daughter. Jake was intrigued by it.

“When it comes to you, Angel there’s not a part of your body that doesn’t get me going.” He admitted, flashing his dimpled smile. He helped you to lay down on the lounger. He made sure you were propped up on the many decorative pillows and comfortable, leaning in for a quick kiss, before running his hands down over you, pausing to rest his hands on and gently kiss your bump, before continuing down, pulling your bikini bottoms off on his way.

The look of pure lust and adoration on your husband’s face was enough to give you confidence in your own body and not give in to the negative thoughts that tried to permeate your brain when you looked in the mirror. Your OB said it was normal as your body was rapidly changing, to have the negative feelings or insecurities but reminded you to be kind to yourself and if the thoughts became too intrusive to let her know so she could set you up with someone to talk to. Jake had been at that appointment and had made it his mission afterwards to make sure he knew how absolutely beautiful he found you and how incredible it was that you were growing an entire human.

“I think you’re overdressed.” You smiled, allowing your eyes to hungrily track over his sun kissed body. “And I believe I was promised Sex on the Beach.”

A/N: There it is! My second ever Jake fic! What do you think??

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#top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #pick your poison #glen powell #bellaireland writes #top gun fan fiction

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savannahsdeath · 8 months

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Hey girl I'm obsessed with your writing!! I have a lil request. Could you do reader x dom abby. Abby is the readers brothers best friend you can do whatever you like with the story just make sure there's lots of smut 😻

BBF!ABBY ANDERSON X READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! dom!abby, sub!reader, smut, abby is taunting reader and sliiiightly being mean

writers note: first abby fic on my blog guysss !! also i love the 'just make sure theres lots of smut' like yall are sooo desperate but SO AM I🗣️🗣️

abby, as your brother's best friend, acted a lot like him. and we all know how brothers act - they tease, taunt, mock and laugh at their little sisters. she wasn't so cruel with it, more playful, but it still annoyed you. maybe, in person, she wasn't that bad? you never had a chance to talk to her privately, until that one night.

you were getting ready for a small house party your classmate invited you for. you dressed in the shortest skirt and the tightest top you found. you planned to go there late, when everyone's already drunk out of their minds - it's funny to see them like that. maybe something like midnight, or even later.

when everyone already fell asleep you sat at the kitchen table, having a typical night's snack. you were eating slowly and peacefully until abby came in, taking a glass of water and slowly sipping from it while leaning against the counter. she studied your little outfit and smirked.

"well, well, well..." abby spoke to you, still inspecting your attire." someone's all dressed up."

you sat in silence, feeling yourself heat up under her gaze.

"what's the occasion?" she continued to maintain her wry grin. "some special man got you all dressed up?"

"well... i did have... something planned tonight." you spoke, your voice trembled a little as you tried to remain confident. "i was headed to a gathering of friends."

abby raised a single eyebrow, her smile grew wider as she let out a little chuckle. "you sure are heading out a little late, aren't you?"

"i don't see what business it is of yours anyway." you answered with some hesitation, not sure what other reason you could give her.

abby chuckled. "someone's a little defensive." she took one finger and lightly tapped your chin, making you look straight in her eyes. "i bet you're planning to meet some special boy."

you could feel your face flare up from the heat, and you decided against agreeing to everything. "maybe, and so what?"

the truth is, you didn't even think about... ugh, boys. you just thought she'll leave you alone once you satisfy her with your reply.

"no, you're not." she laughed. "i mean, maybe you planned to, but you're not going anywhere."

you scoffed. "it's not your house, you're just my brother's guest. you won't lock me up or anything."

"that's right, i won't." she said with mock-concern. "but you won't go there, unless you want your family to know..."

your heart dropped but you let out a nervous chuckle, hoping it'll cover you.

"you wouldn't. don't lie, i know you wouldn't." you shook your head, the fear unluckily evident in your voice.

abby's smirk faded to a more serious expression, her voice becoming colder as she leaned in closer.

"i'm sure they'd want to know what their precious little daughter is up to." she spoke to you, her tone dripping with menace and a promise of a punishment. "but if you're smart, you'll just stay right here. won't you?"

you couldn't bear the thought of your parents knowing, there was no way you would tell them what you were planning.

"fine, i'll stay. happy?" you tried to sound tough, but the hint of a whisper in your voice showed you were not so confident about agreeing to abby's terms.

she smiled once more as finished her drink and turned around to set the empty glass down. "good girl."

you sat there, in the kitchen, letting out a long breath that you didn't even know you had been holding.

then, abby turned back to you with her trademark teasing grin.

"now, what are we going to do at this wee hours? it would be a shame to waste your lovely outfit..." abby admitted with a smirk and a light shrug.

she then began to walk towards you, her face filled with playful mischief as she reached out and cupped your cheek. she raised your face up, a little closer to hers, as her thumb stroked your bottom lip. without standing up, you leaned in, your lips barely brushing against abby's as you tried to resist the urge to do more. she took the initiative, leaning down to press her lips against yours in the most passionate and firm way possible.

you ended up with your legs spread wide open, sitting on the edge of the chair. if anyone woke up now, they'd see abby kneeling in front of you with her head buried deep into your core.

"you gotta stay quiet, m'kay?" she murmured, hearing your breath beginning to get more and more shaky by every second.

she was right. no one came to check on you before, when you were just talking - it wasn't suspicious. however, the case would be different if it wasn't words escaping your mouth. you didn't miss the party so your parents don't find out about you sneaking around, just for them to see what you're doing now. in fact, they'd probably prefer you to just drink with your friends, than let your brother's friend's big hands hold your legs while she leaves dark marks on your inner thighs.

your breath became short, and the shaking had only gotten worse as you tried your best to hold back your louder, more audible reactions from the pleasure. your legs started to feel numb from both her grip and being forced to not move. as abby injected two of her fingers knuckles-deep into you, they uncontrollably closed.

"ohh, no, no." she laughed. "open up for me."

with her help, you managed to part your thighs to their previous position.

your walls clenched, adjusting to her length. you tugged on her braid, your nails digging into the gaps between each binding, ruining her hairstyle and making it messy.

"c'mon..." she twisted her fingers and started to work her magic. "it's bearable. you're kinda... overdramatic." she raised her eyebrow and chuckled.

you started thinking about some witty comeback, but you couldn't risk opening your mouth. not when you knew how many stashed moans hide in the back of your throat.

her thumb circled your clit, adding to the sensations. it wasn't necessary and you swore she just makes things harder for you purposely.

you shook your head, silently communicating to the voices inside your head you won't give in. but you did, moaning out a little 'abby...'

"sh, sh, shhh." she clicked her tongue in a mockingly disappointed gesture. "i don't know about your parents, but if i heard something like that in the middle of the night, i'd know what's happening right away. we don't want that, do we?"

the bratty side of you scoffed before you could think about obeying her. that made her laugh even more. you felt a pang of jealousy at the fact she doesn't have to purse her lips, knowing only not-suspicious sounds leave her mouth. unfair.

"i'm sorry, what was that?" she smirked, her moves painfully slowing down. "i'm just trying to help you here. you either behave or..."

you cut her off, not wanting to hear any of her threats and taunting again. "sorry, m'sorry."

she nodded, going back to her task.

you struggled, really struggled, to stay quiet. at first it wasn't even that hard, but who would last with abby for longer than fifteen minutes? let's just say... not you.

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby x you #abby x reader #abby x y/n #abby x fem!reader #reqs open #wlw smut #abby the last of us #bbf!abby #bbf!abby anderson #bbf!abby anderson x reader #bbf!abby x reader

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cowgurrrl · 6 months

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Angel of Small Death

Pairing: Matt Murdock x lawyer!reader

Author’s note: this may or may not turn into a series plan accordingly

Summary: Nothing seems to go your way around your college rival, Matt Murdock [3.8k]

Warnings: June didn't go to law school so take all legal talk with a grain of salt, discussions of custody cases/child abuse charges, A shitty father, mentions of the Red Room/Widows, canonical type violence, Matt Murdock being a menace to society, set in season one of Daredevil (~2014)

You're fuming when you walk into court. The familiar smug smile at the opposing table doesn't do anything to deter your anger. You slam your briefcase down on the table and stand before Judge Harlow.

"Good morning, Miss-"

"Your Honor, I find it highly inappropriate I was not informed of Mr. Parsons hiring new counsel. Not only that, but he hired new counsel three hours before our hearing today. There is no possible way for this proceeding to be fair without his counsel being adequately brought up to speed. For this reason, I am petitioning for another court date to be held so Mr. Murdock can be properly briefed about the case." Your words are cutting and exact, as you were trained to make them. In law school, your classmates rarely wanted to go against you in mock trial. Moments like this, when your frustration rises to the surface, make you realize why. The dark-haired man with red glasses clears his throat from the opposite table as he stands. It takes everything in you to remain professional.

"With all due respect, your Honor, I believe opposing counsel is just stalling. I have reviewed all the necessary documentation, and it is my fault that Mr. Parsons was pressed for time in finding new representation," Matt says. "Mr. Parsons just wants to resolve this issue as soon as possible so his daughter can be brought home safely after such a… harrowing experience with her sister."

"Ms. Parsons is currently being held without bond at Riker's on an unsubstantiated charge that has no bearing on her ability to raise Bea. This judicial hurdle is a hardship I would think Mr. Murdock would be sensitive to considering his status as a defense attorney and not a family lawyer." You retort, and Matt scoffs. You whip around to face him and find him shaking his head as his fingers flex around his cane.

"Do you consider robbery an unsubstantiated charge when it's caught on video and has multiple witnesses willing to testify to what they saw?"

"Mr. Murdock, if your father kicked you and your thirteen-year-old sister out of the house in the middle of a New York winter, how would you, at eighteen years old, handle it?"

"Order!" Judge Harlow bangs her gavel several times to get everyone's attention, and you take a deep breath. "All of your concerns have been made abundantly clear, counselors, but if Mr. Murdock says he feels prepared, I will have to believe him. However, I do apologize on behalf of Mr. Murdock's office for not properly warning you of this matter, and I trust that he and his office will not make the same mistake again. Now, can we please get on with today's matter without another outburst?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Matt says, that stupid charm dripping from his voice. You bite the inside of your cheek and summon whatever willpower you have left.

"Yes, Your Honor." You say before returning to your table and gathering the relevant documents for the day's hearing.

Robert Parsons is not the first shitty father you've had to deal with in all your years of family law. However, he might be one of the worst. Bea and Morgan's mother, Diana, died in the 2012 attack on New York. Since then, Robert, an NYPD officer, has been able to keep his emotional and physical abuse of his daughters under the radar until this winter when he kicked the girls out after he found out Bea snuck out of the house. He said he was "teaching them a lesson about discipline." Morgan, a kid herself, panicked when Bea spiked a fever and tried to steal Tylenol and some food from a local bodega. A fight broke out between Morgan and the cashier, and the police (her dad) were called. You've been trying to help them since Megan came to you at sixteen, but the system has been working against you at every turn. It doesn't help that the NYPD doesn't protect anyone as well as they protect their own.

So, the fact that the asshole changed counsel three hours before one of the most important custody hearings of your entire year was enough to make your blood boil. The fact that the person representing him is none other than your law school rival, Matt Murdock, made you want to scream. Matt Murdock: Columbia's golden boy, a childhood hero who sacrificed his vision to save an old man's life, Battlin' Jack's son (RE: orphan), the guy who made all the girls in your classes swoon, the guy who told you that family law was a waste of your time. "You just wanna deal with whiny kids all day?" He asked you when you got your internship at one of the top family law firms in the city. For a kid who grew up in an orphanage, you would think he'd have a little more compassion for people who deal with "whiny kids."

It doesn't matter because that was years ago, and you've since worked your way up the ladder to become one of the state's best, most aggressive family lawyers. People come from all over just to get you to represent them against abusive ex-husbands or piss-poor foster parents. You do good work. You know you do. You also know that Matt does, too. You've kept up with him since he graduated, mainly to compare career tracks and see if the days of winning smiles and perfect dark hair would ever end, but of course, it hasn't. Being on his own time in his own law firm suits him, and you hate that it does.

Maybe that's why you show him absolutely no mercy in the court proceedings. You pull every piece of evidence you have that shows neglect, abuse, or even just a smidgen of the mental anguish he's put those girls through. Matt quickly and impressively pivots and challenges that this is not a criminal court and you're going above and beyond what's necessary. You argue about where Bea should go for about fifteen minutes while the custody arrangement is still in the air. You contest that Bea should go upstate with her maternal grandmother, Susan, while Matt says she should go back with her father after the emotional distress of Morgan's arrest.

"Do you honestly believe the best thing for a child undergoing such stress is to move her miles away from the only home she's ever known?" Matt asks incredulously, cocking his head in your direction. You narrow your eyes at him even though you know he can't see you and square your shoulders.

"No, but being away from the man with child abuse charges pending might."

"Mr. Parsons is ready and willing to testify in a court of law that Morgan ran off with her sister in the middle of the night, and he was deploying his squadron to help locate the missing children. However, we aren't here to talk about that. We're here to talk about the safest place for Bea, which could later unfold into where she lives permanently until she becomes a legal adult. Do you really feel comfortable enlisting an elderly woman in the care of a rowdy teenager?"

"Thank you, Mr. Murdock, for the reminder of what today's hearing is actually about. I would've worried you were too ready to treat Mr. Parsons as a defendant." You snap, and Judge Harlow calls to order again. You exhale long through your nose and turn to face her.

"While I appreciate your passion for this case, I encourage you two to find it within yourselves to keep these proceedings as professional as possible," she says. You recognize the tone. It's legalese for "shut the fuck up before you give me a reason to kick you out of my courtroom." "Beatrice Parsons will stay in her current foster home with supervised visits from her grandmother, Susan Kelsey. Given the emotional state of the child, I will not be releasing visitation time to the father until we see an improvement."

"And Ms. Parsons, Your Honor? Will she be allowed to visit Bea upon her release?" You ask.

"That is a matter we can revisit upon Ms. Parsons' release from Riker's. Until then, the only allowed contact with the child is her grandmother and the legal teams. We'll reconvene next Monday morning. Court is adjourned." With that, she bangs her gavel, and you're left reeling. Matt and Robert whisper to each other as you gather your paperwork and pack it away again. Your phone buzzes in your jacket, reminding you that you have to meet with another family regarding another custody agreement in two hours. You sigh and quickly make for the door when Matt and Robert start standing from their table.

You're halfway to the elevator when you hear your name and reluctantly turn around. "Shit," you mumble as Matt taps his cane down the hallway. Thank God Robert is nowhere in sight, and you plaster on a fake smile for potential onlookers. "Mr. Murdock, how can I help you?"

"Well, I was hoping you could hold the elevator for me," he says. "And maybe we could strike a deal on our way down." You chuckle at his confidence and white knuckle the handles of your briefcase.

"I don't think we could agree on anything within a thirty-second elevator ride, but I appreciate your enthusiasm."

"Really? Not even where I can buy you a coffee?" He asks as the elevator dings down the hallway.

"Unfortunately not. I have another client meeting soon. I would've expected a man with his own practice to have similar meetings today, but I guess I was mistaken?" You say as you walk to the elevator. Matt follows suit, laughing at the dig. You press the button for the lobby, and the doors shut, and for a second, it's silent in the elevator. Years of competition and hate linger in the air.

"I've gotta say, I'm impressed with you." He says in a low voice like it's a secret, and you turn to look at him. "Yeah. It's really hard in this line of work to make quite as many enemies as you have."

"It's not that hard to piss people off when you say they shouldn't have custody of their kids. Just like I'm sure people get pissed at you when you defend murderers."

"I don't defend murderers."

"Oh, Karen Page wasn't a murderer?" The name makes him still next to you as the doors finally open. "See you next Monday, Murdock." You say as you step out of the elevator, leaving Matt in the dust.

For the next week, you bounce between client meetings, hearings, mediations, visits to Morgan in Riker's, and late nights in the office, trying to find a way to take down Parsons and get Morgan out of jail. You would think being the daughter of a cop would be better in this kind of situation. You try to pull every string you can find, milk every connection, and almost beg any defense attorney you can corner for long enough. Still, Morgan remains in Riker's the night before the next hearing, and you're exhausted.

Your phone rings that night, and you try not to make a habit of answering work calls outside of your normal hours, but the unrecognized number is too tempting to not pick up. "Let's make a deal," Matt says before you can even get out a proper greeting. You scoff and tuck your phone between your ear and shoulder as you close your curtains.

"Make it worth my time, Murdock. I answered your call on a Sunday night before court."

"I'm willing to defend Morgan in court and get her out of Riker's by the end of the week," he says. You're about to argue that it's a conflict of interest, that if he'd paid attention in the first semester classes of law school, he would've known that, but he beats you to it. "If you agree to drop this case and get Bea home."

"You're asking me to drop charges of child abuse and reckless endangerment of a minor."

"No, I'm asking you to drop the custody portion for now. The child abuse and endangerment charges will move onto criminal court, but that trial will be a waste of time if you don't have a witness like Morgan." He says. It's true. Even though Morgan is beyond the statute of limitations, Bea isn't. Jurors will be sympathetic to a victim but not a criminal. "No one else is gonna help her, and I'd much rather defend her than her father."

"So, what happens if Bea goes back and he beats the shit out of her?" You ask as your phone beeps with another notification. Matt starts a long ramble, but you're not fully listening. "Matt, I have another call coming in. Can we talk about this later?" You don't wait for a response. You just end the call and quickly press the red notification, a crackly voice coming in on the other end.

"And you're sure that's the right amount?" Parsons asks, oblivious to your listening, and someone chuckles in response.

"That is typically the starting payment," you recognize the accent and glance around your apartment, trying to come up with a plan. "Now, if you keep up the flow, we can discuss upping the payment."

"That shouldn't be a problem. It'll be smooth sailing once I get my kids out of the way. You can tell Mr. Dreykov that."

It's cold. Even under all your layers and your gear, it's cold. The city moves like a living beast all around you, its inhabitants oblivious to you hiding on a rooftop with a gun. It's been two hours since that phone call, and Parsons still isn't home. The call ended within a minute of the notification buzzing on your phone, but they didn't make any plans to meet up anywhere. And why would they if their business together is riding on the results of this custody case? You sigh, your mask pushing the air right back at you, as you sit back on your heels and glance at the night sky.

It's rare that you can ever see stars in New York, but sometimes, if you squint, you can catch little glimpses. You struggle to focus on constellations with the screeching of subway brakes and loud horns penetrating the otherwise peaceful night. You've been doing this for a long enough time that you no longer stress yourself out about things like this. It's work. It's what you're supposed to do, and you get away with it. With all the other masked idiots running around the city— not limited to The Masked Idiots that moved upstate after Stark Tower was destroyed— and the gangs, police are never able to track where bullets are coming from. If they happen to, it's just another job to finish. Not a big deal.

You look to Parson's apartment again and find it still dark and empty. It isn't until you go to adjust the scope that something shuffles behind you, and by that point, it's too late to stop the arms from wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you backward. You throw your head back until you hit something hard, and the grip on you falters enough for you to slip out. There's a mess of punches, kicks, and elbows thrown as you try to get away from your attacker, but with every movement, they seem to anticipate it before you do. It isn't long before you're pinned to a brick wall, too far from your gun, with a gloved hand wrapped around your throat.

"Why are you targeting him?" A deep voice asks above you, and you kick your feet under you, trying to get the upper hand, but he's too strong. His grip on your throat tightens, and you gasp for air. "Last chance." He threatens, and your head swims with no oxygen.

"The recording," you croak. His hand loosens around your windpipe just enough for you to get more information out. "Listen to the recording. On the phone." He drops you as fast as he grabbed you, and you collapse to the ground in a heap of heavy breaths and gasps. You can hear an old, familiar voice in your head calling you pathetic and weak, but you ignore it to focus on getting breath in your lungs.

"This is your phone?" The voice asks as he holds up your burner flip phone from 2007, and you scoff.

"Didn't realize I'd be interrogated for my choices in cellphones," you manage, and you imagine the eye roll rather than see it through the red of his mask. You've seen pictures of him before. You've read the articles calling him a vigilante, a wanna-be Avenger, a menace to society. You know him. He stares at you (through you?) carefully as he puts the phone to his ear and listens to the most recent recording from Parson's phone call. You wait for the muscle in his jaw to clench and unclench before pulling yourself to your feet and walking over to him. You take it as a good sign that he doesn't try to throw you off the building for moving and get close enough to him to make out the faint stubble on his square jaw.

"Parson's trafficking girls?" He asks, more to himself than anything, and you nod. "How'd you know about this?"

"Parson's been receiving huge payouts from off-shore accounts for a few years. All it took was tapping the big mouth's phone to figure out who he was talking to and about what," you explain as you open your hand to ask for your phone back. He obliges, but not without a dramatic sigh. "Y'know, I thought you would've had a better idea of what goes on in the city, Devil Boy."

"How has this not been flagged by anyone else?" He ignores your jab, much to your dismay.

"The Red Room has informants and Widows in almost every functional part of society. If they want something to stay quiet, they'll find a way."

"I thought Romanoff exposed them."

"Deykov made it impossible to cut ties with the Red Room and other Widows for years. Somehow, Romanoff got out. Barely, but she made it out. There's no way she'd do anything to piss them off now. Not when she's gotten this far," you say. "As far as the public knows, Black Widow is an Avenger and nothing more."

"You got out."

"I'm not a Widow."

"No?" He asks, and you shake your head. "So, you just had a military-grade weapon and tactical gear lying around?"

"Can't a girl take herself on a shopping spree?" You ask, not willing to justify him with a real answer. The rooftop goes quiet as you think about what the next step is.

"You don't have to kill him." He says softly, like he's anticipating your reaction. You bite the inside of your cheek and turn to him, annoyance building in your stomach.

"What did you just say to me?"

"I know you want him to suffer, and trust me, he will, but if you want things to change, you need to get information from him. To get information from him, he needs to stay alive."

"What are you? A fucking altar boy?"

"Those girls don't get justice if you kill him."

"Justice," you laugh. "He gets to kidnap, torture, and brainwash little girls, and I'm supposed to just let him rot in prison? Is that justice to you, Red?" He's silent, and you shake your head. "Yeah, I didn't think so." You're about to turn back to your gun and find a way to make him leave you alone when three police cars go speeding down the street behind an FDNY truck. They're speeding and more urgent in their driving than you've seen in a long time. A rogue thought pricks at the corner of your brain, and you mumble a curse.

Quickly, you open your phone and jam a few buttons until the sound of a police scanner comes through the shitty speakers. "Explosion reported at the corner of Ninth Ave and West 42nd. Multiple casualties have already been reported by people at the scene," a voice reports on the other line, and you hold your breath. "Officer Robert Parsons was reportedly inside the bar when the gas line blew, and he is assumed dead."

The first thing you do when you get to the office in the morning is file an emergency petition to assign temporary custody of Bea to her grandmother. You're almost positive it'll get approved, considering how there's no one else involved in this custody case. Now free from his obligation to Robert, Matt sent you an email early this morning saying he would defend Morgan in court. You didn't respond. There are too many moving parts to focus on to care about responding to a pity representation in court.

Robert was talking to somebody from the Red Room not even four hours before he died in a fiery explosion. FDNY ruled it as an accident, but you know better. Did he blabber to someone on the force about the off-shore accounts? Did Dreykov's men just finally decide he wasn't worth all the trouble anymore? Did they find out you tapped his phone? If they did, it's only a matter of time before someone finds you. All the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you stare at the blinking cursor on your computer screen. Your secretary, Margaret, saying your name makes you jump harder than it should've.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." She says in all her midwestern politeness, and you shake your head.

"I'm just a little jumpy this morning. Didn't get a lot of sleep last night." You wave her off, and she raises her eyebrows at you sympathetically.

"D'you want me to go get you a coffee?"

"No, thank you. I probably need to lay off coffee for a few hours," you sigh. "Did you need something from me?"

"Oh, yes. Someone called and left you a message... A Matt Murdock?" She says like she's hoping you'll recognize the name, and you nod.

"What'd he say?"

"He wanted to meet with you for lunch to discuss something. He didn't say what." Fucking Matt Murdock, you think. Finding a way to wiggle back into your life just because of one stupid case. "I can tell him no if you want me to."

"No, it's okay. I'll meet with him. We have some unfinished business together." You say, and she leaves to confirm lunch plans with Matt's office. You take a sip of your water, and your throat screams in pain from Devil Boy nearly choking you to death. The reminder that he knew about Parson's involvement with the Red Room before disappearing into the night makes your skin crawl. Another loose end to tie up at another time. Still, your head pounds with all the swirling information and the knowledge that there's no way you'll be getting rid of Matt Murdock anytime soon. "Shit."

#matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil fic #matt murdock fic #matt murdock #mcu fic #i wrote this for me but you can read it too i guess

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gaysindistress · 4 months

Text

Связи (n.) connections - two

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

pairings: mob!bucky x reader

Summary: “Did you think you could hide from us? That’s adorable, little one. There’s no where on this planet where you could hide from the Shostakov Bratva and even if you did manage to evade us, the Barnes Bratva would find you. Your связи, your connections, will always come back to haunt you, Y/N.”

Warnings: Cursing, guns

Word count: 2.6k

part one | series masterlist

taglist: @unaxv @identity2212

“Don’t even think about it,” the hand squeezes my arm as I try to look up to confirm what I know to be true. “Walk.”

“Let go of me,” I mumble and try to pull my arm away but it’s useless. He has an iron grip and I know there will be bruises by the morning from how hard he is grabbing me.

Good. it’ll give me a reason to slit his throat. I find myself thinking and a horror fills me at my own thoughts. Not even five minutes in my father’s presence and I’m already slipping back into that way of thinking.

“You think you’ll survive if I did that?” my captor grumbles, jerking me along towards the edge of the room. “Look around, Oksana. How many of your father’s men do you see? Hm? How about my men?”

On cue, the crowd erupts in a frenzy of cheers and chants when we reach the edge of the room and he pulls me fully into the shadows. I let out a groan of pain as my back hits a wall and the heavy sound of hands slamming next to my head catches me off guard. A looming figure cages me against the cold stone and blocks my view from the party…the fucking party that’s started in honor of my sister’s death.

“Tell me what you see,” the figure demands and my eyes are straining to make out any features.

“All I see is a fucking dick head who grabbed me and threw me against a wall.”

A chuckle.

A familiar chuckle.

James Barnes is the figure that all but dragged me to this hallway and slammed me against the wall. The Pakhan of the Barnes Bratva is the one who’s leaning over me and demanding things from me like I’m one of his side pieces. Bucky, the man my sister loved more than her own family and probably died protecting, found me in a matter of minutes and fear floods my veins as the realization hits me.

He takes notice of my sudden silence and smirks, “What do you see now?”

“A. Dick. Head.”

His smirk never fades but grows and he yanks me away and down the hall with both of my hands in one of his massive ones. During our little “detour” the party has turned into something from the movies and my father’s men have come to line the hallway walls instead of the main room. Protecting their sweet Pakhan as if he isn’t a Soviet breed killing machine.

They bow their heads and avert their eyes when we walk past and I wish just one of them would look at me instead of acting like a coward. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that they know who I am from the way they do everything to avoid making eye contact. They most certainly know who Bucky is and it ignites my infernal hatred for him and my father again.

At the end of the hall is a set of black metal doors; a contrast against the red decor and white marble of the house but a menacing sight no less. An older man I don’t recognize nods to Bucky before he opens the doors and steps aside to let us in. I throw a pitiful look in his direction but he’s closing the doors and disappearing into the hall. Another set of doors halts us but this time it’s opened when Bucky types in a code into a small keypad off to the side.

And what awaits us is my worst nightmare.

My father is sitting in a disgustingly large and overwhelming red chair at the back of the room with my mother and remaining sister sitting on the matching couch. Yelena is staring up at the ceiling with her arms crossed while Melina is reading a book as if this isn’t the world's worst family reunion.

“Ах, моя милая Оксана! Я так рада, что ты смогла приехать. Мы скучали по тебе,” Alexei says with his fake smile that never reaches his eyes.

Ah my sweet Oksana! I’m so glad you could make it. We’ve missed you.

I say nothing. I can’t. It’s sludge in my stomach and molten lava in my tongue.

“Приходите. Садись. Давай догоним.”

Come. Sit. Let us catch up.

Bucky hauls me towards them when I don’t move on my own and I stumble, falling into him. He catches me with a grunt and stumbles backwards himself before shoving me to the couch. Yelena makes no attempt to acknowledge me and Melina raises an eyebrow at the bounce of the couch but nothing else.

Typical.

“My darling Oksana,” Alexei starts and my voice finds itself again.

“That’s not my name,” I blurt out and now all eyes are on me. “Not anymore. I go by Y/N now.”

“Y/N,” he says as he draws out the letters. “The name your mother called you. I remember how you got it, don’t you, Melina?”

She sighs and nods.

“Alexei,” Bucky says harshly from where he’s been leaning against the wall, arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“I know, I know,” my father grumbles and pins me with a sudden serious stare. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“I imagine it’s because Nat…” I stop. I can’t say it.

“Yes, sweet Natasha is dead but not to worry, Y/N. Your life isn’t in danger or at least it won’t be soon.”

I narrow my eyes at him, confused and his next words so nothing to clear it up.

“Antonia has decided that she needs to enact revenge and has been making our lives difficult as of late. She’s already made an attempt on Yelena and well as you can probably guess, made a successful one on Natasha’s. I fear that the unseen protection I once offered you isn’t enough anymore and we both know that your agent Danvers will do nothing if it means she can get close to Antonia or me for that matter.”

“Antonia as in Dreykov’s daughter?”

“Who the fuck else would it be?” Bucky snaps and we exchange a nasty glare.

Alexei huffs but continues, “But being the amazing father and businessman that I am, I was able to broker a peace treaty so to speak.”

Bucky shifts uncomfortably and I study the way he’s drumming his fingers on his arm although he’s trying to hide it.

“What kind of treaty?” I ask while still watching Bucky.

“A beneficial one.”

I roll my eyes and give my father a blank stare, “for you. It’s always only beneficial for you.”

“Would you rather me let you die?”

“You haven’t had an issue doing just that for the last ten years.”

His eyes harden and he leans forward as he speaks to me, “I didn’t know where you went. I only found you three years ago.”

I lean forward too, “I wish you hadn’t.”

Melina finally speaks up and says my name in a way only a mother could.

We both return to semi comfortable positions and stare at each other.

“You’re marrying Bucky,” Yelena casually states. Her eyes have closed but she’s still leaning her back back against the couch with her blonde waves hanging over the back.

“What?” Is all I can think to say. I look to my father and then to Bucky for anything. Denial, confirmation, laughter, fucking anything at all but I’m met with blank stares and the severe anxiety building in my stomach.

“We need the numbers and resources. Antonia isn’t…”

The words sound fuzzy and I know I’m missing important information.

“…Natasha was the first choice and I think we all can agree that Yelena is not an option so that leaves you, my youngest daughter and out last hope.”

“No.”

The word slipped so easily from my lips I didn’t even realize it was me who said it.

Bucky makes a noise that I assume is meant to be a chuckle but being the devil reincarnated means he never does such a thing and it’s a strangled sound instead.

“Y/N,” Alexei warns, “Antonia has made threats against our lives already. I’ve done what I can to protect you and let you live your life. I cannot do that anymore so i have no other choice but to do this. You have no other choice but to do this and if you can’t find it in your heart to do it for us then think of Natasha. Her death will not be in vain.”

“I think you missed explaining the part where a marriage will keep me any safer than leaving me the fuck alone.”

“He can offer you more protection than I can.”

“Stop this,” I tell Bucky and he only glares at me. “Stop this. We can find another way.”

“Уже сделано.”

It’s already done.

“Так ты говоришь, что ты бессилен,” I sneer back and smile when Bucky flinches ever so slightly.

So you're saying that you're powerless.

The older man who had opened the door for us comes in with a large white envelope and hands it to Bucky. The Barnes Pakhan takes it with a roll of his eyes and takes out a packet of papers. Melina has finally stopped reading and Yelena is still pretending to sleep as my fate is being sealed. A pen scratches on paper and then the packet is dangling in front of my face with Bucky’s name messily scrolled next to a blank spot where I can only assume mine is meant to go.

“I’m not signing that,” I tell Bucky and he only stares blankly at me.

“Y/N,” Melina tries but I cut her off with a triate about how this is illegal and stupid and seflish and no one can make me do this. During my efforts to get someone to change their mind and call this all off, Bucky signs my name for me before tossing the packet to Alexei.

“Did you just forge my signature?”

“No,” he deadpans and watches my parents sign the witness section of the marriage license.

“Yes you did! I saw you!”

“But did you?”

“What the fuck kind of question is that? I literally just watched you sign my name on a legal document. That makes it void,” I snap at him and I swear I see the anger start to roll in.

Bucky takes a deep breath, “And who here is going to back you up? Alexei? Melina? Yelena?”

When I don’t answer, he mutters something in Russian under his breath and tells my father that we will be leaving immediately. A man I hadn’t seen before comes up behind me and pulls me off of the couch by my arm causing me to swing at him. My fist lands with a satisfying crack on his cheek and he tumbles backwards, cradling his face as blood leaks from between his fingers. He curses under his breath and I spin around at the familiar voice.

It was the voice of one of the man who kidnapped me that night.

That’s when it hits me; Bucky and this man had been the ones to kidnap Yelena and me.

“YOU,” I hiss and grab him by the face with one hand while the other pulls the small gun tucked into his waist. Pressing it against his temple, we stare at each other and after a few agonizing moments pass, the man looks down with defeat.

“You were there,” I whisper to him, “Why?”

He looks over my shoulder at Bucky and that’s when I remember Bucky was there too. Still gripping the first man, I turn the gun to his boss and the entire room takes in a sharp breath.

“Why?” I ask him knowing that’ll I never get an answer. His expression is a frozen image of boredom and based on what little information I have gotten in the last few minutes, it’s not likely that he’ll decide that this question deserves a response.

“Let him go and give him his gun back,” is all Bucky says before snatching up the packet and stalking towards the door. My hand slips and the man quickly grabs his gun before dragging me along with him.

Alexei moves to stand and Melina stops him by holding out her hand. She mutters something to him in Russian and he rolls his shoulders in response, no doubt having been told to act like a Pakhan and not a loving father. Yelena has lifted her head and is staring daggers at me but she still doesn’t say anything to me. The little girl in me begs to call out for my older sister and craves the comfort that her hug once brought me but all hope of that relationship is dashed with the murderous look she’s giving me.

Once again my family has left me for dead without a good reason.

Sam, as I heard Bucky call him, dabs a black handkerchief on his cheek as he inspects the small cut in the car’s tiny visor mirror. He keeps muttering under his breath and occasionally Bucky throws in a sarcastic comment to which Sam threatens to hurt in him some way.

“Please tell me why you couldn’t have just walked up to her and played nice,” Sam says after he’s finished fussing over the truly minimal cut on his cheekbone.

Bucky looks at me in the rearview mirror, “Does she look like someone who plays nice?”

“I’m literally right here.”

Sam glances over his shoulder, “Oh I’m well aware that you’re right there. I can feel you plotting my demise.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be thinking of the most creative way to kill you if you didn’t kidnap.”

“I didn’t kidnap you. That was Bucky.”

The man in question gives his partner the most offended look possible, “Wow. Remind me to never trust you with anything ever again.”

“Don’t act you wouldn’t give me up just as quickly,” Sam mumbles as he settles into his seat.

“I wouldn’t and that’s why I’m Pakhan.”

“Oh you want to play that way? Okay, okay,” he perks up and leans over towards Bucky. “We had a plan walking into that fake ass funeral and it didn’t involve either of us getting punched or you getting married. Want to explain how your plan to get in and get out epically failed, Pakhan?”

Bucky’s jaw clentches and his hands grip the steering wheel tighter, “Look, let me walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

“If it involves telling me how you managed to royally fuck this entire thing then yes but otherwise, no.”

“I didn't...do anything. That’s on Alexei. I almost had him…”

Sam lets out a loud and dramatic sigh, “You did not almost have him. He was never going to agree to your terms and you know it.”

“Someone want to fill me in?” I pipe up and both men say no loudly at the same time. I raise my eyebrows in surprise and again they both sigh before Bucky starts talking.

“Alexei is an idiot.”

“You’re not wrong,” I mumble and I swear I see him smirk.

“He got lazy with cleaning up the mess Dreykov made and now he’s too weak and stupid to handle the consequences. He’s more concerned about his reputation than he is actually running his bratva and he somehow managed to rope me into his bullshit.”

“What does that say about you?”

“You’re the daughter who escaped, how do you think it looks that you’re also part of this?”

I don’t answer. I’m well aware of how stupid and naive this whole situation makes me look. I did escape whether or not thanks to Bucky kidnapping me all of those years ago, but I escaped and yet I still wound up being entangled in my father’s mess. I was free but now I’m both legally and morally bound to Bucky.

The rest of the car ride is silent. Only when we pull up in front of Carol’s apartment building do I say something.

“What the fuck is going on?”

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spinningwebsandtales · 7 months

Text

Imagine Catching Gojo Sneaking In Your Kids' Candy From Trick-or-Treating

Satoru Gojo X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Suggestive themes, Gojo sneaks candy from his kids (don't deny it he would totally do it)

Word Count: 722

(A/N:) Yes I know what happened on Halloween in JJK in Shibuya but I am doing this as a coping mechanism okay! JJK is pain and I will make happy imagines thank you! So enjoy this goodness as it made me squeal as I wrote it! ~Countess

Halloween finally came and you could honestly say it was Satoru's favorite holiday, for one reason and one reason only. Free candy. While he couldn't go trick-or-treating himself, he so happened to have two little white haired blue eyed brats to take. Like their sugar goblin of a father both your older son and younger daughter adored anything sweet. It was honestly a nightmare when going to the supermarket with three Gojos in tow. So Halloween was nice with the free snacks that would last maybe a week. So you had taken to hiding the kids pumpkin buckets where they couldn't find them, though that didn't mean your loveable menace of a husband couldn't.

You had finally gotten the children to sleep, which was a miracle how hyped on sugar they were, and it didn't take long for you and Satoru to turn in for the night. You slept peacefully in your husbands arms until about thirty minutes to midnight you woke to his side of the bed empty and his residual body heat cooling in the frigid October night. There was only one thing he could be doing and you knew exactly where to look. Tugging on your robe and slipping your feet into your favorite pair of slippers, you started your search. You guessed right on the first try as you walked into your kitchen and the pantry door was closed but the light was on.

Opening the door quickly, there you caught your husband red handed. Shirtless with one hand stuck in a pink pumpkin and the other hand full of candy. He had a chocolate smudge beside his soft lips.

"Busted," you cooed shutting the pantry door behind you.

"Um...trick-or-treat," Satoru grinned.

"Yeah no," you replied before licking your thumb and swiping it across the chocolate stain. Bringing your thumb to your lips, you licked the little bit of chocolate making your husband swallow loudly.

"Mind telling me why my husband isn't in bed beside me but sneaking his childrens' candy like a sugar burglar?"

"Dad tax," Satoru grinned not at all ashamed that he was taking some of the best pieces for himself.

His go to excuse for everything dessert that he pawned off his kids. It would be annoying if it didn't make you laugh every time. As the world's strongest sorcerer Satoru had had a hard time wanting to marry and start a family. It wasn't that he wouldn't make a good husband or father, it was the society of sorcerers he worried about. The pressure the elders would put on you and any of his offspring was what made him balk at any relationships. Once you had settled his fears everything fell into place and now he was enjoying the last few minutes of Halloween by performing one more trick in making a few pieces of Halloween candy disappear.

You hummed thoughtfully cupping his cheek while stroking his bare chest with your other hand. "You gonna share your dad tax then?"

"With my partner in crime? Always," he grinned mischievously placing a mini candy bar between his lips as an offering. "As long as you don't snitch."

"Never," you purred taking the other half of the candy bar in your teeth. Breaking it in half Gojo pulled you into his body, pressing his mouth against yours as you savored the treat he shared. The sugar he had consumed only made his open mouth kisses sweeter as he pressed you against the pantry door. You threaded your fingers through his soft silver strands holding him as close as possible. When you parted ways his blue eyes were alight with a want candy couldn't satisfy. Grabbing a few more pieces before shoving the buckets back in your hiding spot, Satoru swiftly swept you off your feet and rushed you both back to the bedroom. The taste of chocolate still tingled on your tongue along with the unique flavor of Gojo while you held onto him tightly.

"Happy Halloween," you mumbled against the warmth of his skin.

He kissed the top of your head, squeezing you a little tighter, "Happy Halloween my queen."

You laughed kissing his cheek while Satoru kept up the quick pace, leaving the candy behind for a different kind of treat. Maybe Halloween should be more than one day a year you thought.

#Gojo Satoru X Reader #Gojo Satoru / Reader #Satoru Gojo #Jujutsu Kaisen #Satoru Gojo Imagine #Jujutsu Kaisen Imagine #Imagine #JJK #Not My Gif #My Writing

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excalibur-gone-missing · 6 days

Text

Paring: seungcheol x you

Requested: no

Release date: 24-04-24

Genre: mafia au, reverse of getting kidnaped by the mafia boss, fluff, e2l, crack, assistant au

Warning(s): mention of abduction, guns?, cheol is a menace, brief mentions of drugs (do tell me if i missed anything)

summary: It was not supposed to be like this, it was a meticulous plan perfectly curated by you, Jun and Seokmin. You were supposed to go get the man who was the future heir of the Kim Corps named Mingyu, you ever had a pic of his. Most importantly it was definitely not supposed to be the man who now sits in your basement claiming that he is the leader of the mafia organisation you three work for.

Word count: 5.8k

Other works

Beta reader(s): @wonuwrites-main and @anonmonty (sweet sweet angles helped me with proof reading, or else im fucking incompetent)

disclaimer: this is not the exact representation of the subjects in real life. I just use them for my inspiration.

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It is a beautiful day, and like they always say: beautiful things happen on beautiful days, and you were damn ready for the said beautiful thing to happen!

The plan is simple—you and Jun have gone over it at least fifty times, and Seokmin has been standing there listening to you both intently throughout the whole ordeal.

“So, let’s go over it once again,” you say, pointing at the white board with the picture of a man, Mingyu to be exact, the heir to the Kim Corp. and your target.

“He leaves his office to have coffee every afternoon exactly at 3pm at the nearest café named ‘Carvery’, am I right?” Jun and Seokmin nod with a concentrated look on their faces.

“Next he goes to the park, sits there for fifteen minutes, on most days, and then takes the path that leads them straight back to the building, correct?” The two men again nod, and then Jun takes over the talking.

“More often than not, he hates company during his afternoon runs, so the best chance we have of abducting the man is when he is between the café and the park. This will give us at least a twenty-minute head start before the police and his family start looking for him.”

Now you and Seokmin nod at the man, and Seokmin takes the podium to present the next part.

“Jun and I will be on the streets while y/n waits in the car, and from the background check we ran last month, we know the man is well trained in martial arts, so we will try and attack him with the anesthetic as soon as possible.”

“And after the guy is unconscious, we will flee with his ass~,” adds Jun.

“Sounds like a solid plan,” you laugh as you high five the two men.

Indeed, it was a solid plan. You three had considered every possibility and chosen this day to execute your plan. It’s perfect and thorough, so what can go wrong?

A lot apparently.

You reached the destination ten minutes early to give Seokmin and Jun ample amount of time to prepare for the attack.

As you parked your car near the pavement where the abduction would take place, you see a man walk past the car wearing a beige trench coat with some sort of concoction from the coffee shop.

Now if you were a seasoned abductor, you would have known not to mess with the person as the timing was not right. But that was not the case, and seeing a person who vaguely matched the physical descriptions of the man you were actually supposed to abduct gave you enough reason to jump the gun and take this man hostage.

Before you could process anything, Seokmin jumped on the guy, trying to tackle him while Jun tried to find a way to inject the drug into his system. After another minute of struggle, taking at least five punches in their abdomen and faces, both the men were successful in sedating the man.

They hurriedly carried him to the car and you three sped off to the base to ask his family for ransom.

You have been back at the base for three hours now. As you look at the unconscious man tied to the chair in front, you realize the grave mistake you made by not seeing his face the minute you were actually kidnapping him.

“I mean if you look at his eyes, they look very similar to the real target, you know. Maybe he ate too much last night and is a bit swollen now,” Jun says in a wise tone. Now if you were stupid like Seokmin, you would have accepted this analogy of his just like the hundred others he had spewed in the past two hours, but you are not. So, you hit the guy’s head while calmly saying.

“Will you keep quiet for a minute? You know as well as I that this is the wrong man. We don’t even know who he actually is. So, we wait for him to gain consciousness and then interrogate him.”

You have figured that screaming and crying will get you nowhere. All it will do is trigger Seokmin’s panic attack, and you do not think he can manage another one after the one hour long one he just resurfaced from.

“Our best bet is that we abducted a pretty important dude, or else we know the boss will have our meat served to his dogs for their nightly feasts,” you continued.

“I can see he is wearing pretty costly brands all over. My guts say he is rich,” Seokmin pipes up.

“Seok, your gut told you to scream for the past hour. I don’t trust it a lot now,” you complain.

“I think it’s your fault, too. You should have stopped us from abducting the guy instead of just staring from the car, you know,” Jun says.

Now, you will consider yourself to be a level-headed person, but one thing that gets to you more than anything else is a false accusation. On top of that, the bitch has the gal to accuse you of being careless when they were the ones showing literally no care about their work, owing to the fact you were not even supposed to abduct the untouchable Kim Mingyu in the first place. The leader of your clan, although you three had never seen him, mostly operated through Jeonghan, his right-hand man. The guy you agreed to kidnap was apparently remarkably close to your boss. But when faced with the tough choice of loyalty towards one gang and the lump sum of three million, you three had to face the situation and betray your gang. You know you should not, but the small jobs with the gang were not enough to even pay your rent!

So, who does Jun think he is to shift the blame towards you when you have done nothing but try to make a secure living for all three of you. Therefore, you do the thing that your sane brain advises you to.

Go off at Jun.

“So, if I fail to babysit two grown men while on an extremely important mission that included them, the blame is shifted towards me?!”

“You were both supposed to wait for my instructions before confronting the poor bloke. Now, if things go wrong, it will be your faults, and I will be dragged into it because I was the main brain behind the planning.”

“Guys, I think we should focus on the guy more; I think he is stirring.”

This statement from Seokmin caught both of your attention, causing you to cease the argument immediately to take a look at the man in front of you.

Without hesitation, you put your gun on his head and ask, “who are you, tell us about yourself.”

The man albeit good looking with his doe eyes and plump lips, gave you three a mean stare before speaking sassily.

“Shouldn’t you know the identity of the person you kidnap?”

“If we knew, I don’t think I would have asked about you,” you reply.

The man scoffs before informing you the most gut-wrenching piece of information you have ever heard.

“I’m Choi Seungcheol leader of Choi Clan.”

When Seungcheol met Mingyu today, he was feeling particularly drained and sought the comfort of a familiar face, longing for a brief respite from the relentless demands of his job. Mingyu, sensing his friend's exhaustion, proposed they take a detour to unwind, considering Seungcheol's grueling schedule. Gratefully accepting the suggestion, Seungcheol had embarked on what he thought would be a much-needed moment of relaxation.

Oh, how wrong he was.

As he leisurely sipped his coffee, enjoying a fleeting moment of calm, the tranquility was shattered by the sudden onslaught of a group of thugs. Seungcheol had braced himself for a possible mugging, but the idea of being abducted never crossed his mind. He curses himself for sending Soonyoung away earlier, now regretting not having company in this unforeseen predicament.

To make matters worse, Seungcheol felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. A mafia boss getting abducted!

How humiliating.

Now, do not get him wrong, he was, in reality, as far from incompetent as the Sahara was from water, as Seungkwan was from being calm, as Jihoon was from showing affection—you get the point.

In fact, he had been the first in three generations to successfully reclaim the southeastern part of the city for his clan from the Yoon family, a testament to his capabilities.

Now bound and surrounded by three hapless captors whose incompetence was glaringly evident, judging by the one who he suspects was crying prior to their conversation with him. He suspected they had targeted Mingyu, but mistakenly seized him instead. Seungcheol could not help but shake his head at their sheer incompetence.

Now, again, he is not that scared. He knows he has a trusted pack of workers who would join heaven and earth in search of him. No, he is least bothered about himself.

What he is actually bothered about is who planned to abduct Mingyu, because he is strictly off limits for his clan members. He knows this as much as anyone that they respect the young heir a lot, not only due to his kind nature, but also because of the relationship he has with their leader.

So, when he informs his three kidnappers his name, he gets the weirdest of responses ever—a chorus of ‘shits’ and ‘fucks.’ Moreover, he sees all three of his kidnappers suddenly fall down at his feet and grumbling out the most nonsensical bullshit ever. The only words he vaguely captures are ‘it was supposed to be someone else’ and ‘sirs’.

This confuses the man even more. But then he suddenly sees all three of them take their masks off, revealing two men and, dare he say, a very gorgeous woman. Now in any other situation,

Seungcheol would have laughed, but now that he is in it himself, the only reaction he can provide is a confused head nod as the woman immediately goes to untie his hands.

“So, you are telling me that you were paid to abduct my friend who you know is off limits, but still went ahead with the idea, even though you are the members of my gang?!”

He says as he looks at your group standing in front of him with their heads bowed down looking like kids getting scolded.

“But sir, we barely make any money from doing the jobs assigned to us. The only way for us to pay our rent was for taking up jobs from outside, and this one paid us a huge sum. We never wanted you to be the one getting abducted instead, we swear!” you suddenly exclaim with the extreme need to explain yourself.

Your two partners beside you do their dutiful job by nodding their heads with your rant.

“You three fucked up really bad, didn’t you?” He says, looking a tad bit amused.

“We are really sorry!” Seokmin chokes out, visibly scared by the whole ordeal.

“Well, it’s time I go back, so take me back to the office.”

Right after that statement comes out of his mouth, you three are escorting him out of the door to the car parked outside to take him back.

“So, you are telling me these three, these newbies who literally didn’t have any good job for them to gain experience, drugged your ass and took you to god knows where, and you couldn’t even put up a good fight?!”

Jeonghan exclaims, looking at the seated, nervous, and scared faces of the three of you from Seungcheol’s office’s glass.

“Apparently not,” the older man sighs.

“My friend, are you sure you are a real mafia? Because in light of the current happenings, I am starting to question your integrity a lot.” Jeonghan says as he barks out a laugh, taking immense pleasure at his friend’s humiliation.

“Or maybe you were too caught up staring at the pretty lady to notice that you were getting kidnapped.”

The bitch continues to make fun of the older man.

“I just thought I was getting mugged, so I didn’t fight hard enough. Who knew I would be kidnapped instead.” Seungcheol grumbles, pouting a bit.

“Which is even worse, because you are telling me you would have let people just mug you for no reason when you are one of the most influential people underground!” Jeonghan said while looking pretty concerned about the statement his superior just spewed, and he does indeed have a hard time accepting it.

“Ahh! Just get over with it and let me go. Plus make sure the three of them face the appropriate consequences for not only abducting me, but also trying to abduct my friend,” Seungcheol barks out while walking out, thoroughly humiliated, and annoyed that his junior was having fun at his expense.

So Jeonghan does the very thing at which he is extremely good.

Create chaos.

Right after his superior leaves, he strides towards the group and says, “so because the boss has instructed me to do something with you three which will stop you guys from going off the hook, I’m going to assign you some jobs in the organization because I can.”

Now, anyone even vaguely familiar with Jeonghan would recognize the expression he wore just before chaos ensued, but contrary to popular belief, Jeonghan is actually quite amiable—at least, that is what he believes, and that is what matters, right?

He continues, “Junhui, you will be overseeing the artillery division. Our deputy head Chan will ensure you are well informed about your job. You will meet him tomorrow. As for Seokmin,” he paused, a sly smile crossing his face, which made Seokmin visibly nervous, “You, my friend, will be our esteemed boss's driver. Lastly, y/n, you will be his assistant. You shall be meeting Chan tomorrow, too; he will explain the workings of your new role.”

Normally, in any ordinary conversation, you would not dare ask inappropriate questions, but the circumstances were far from normal, so you proceeded with the most audacious question you could muster: “Why did Chan leave his previous post?”

Jeonghan politely responded, “He left because the job didn’t suit him, so we shifted him to the artillery department as a deputy head.”

Unspoken was the fact that Chan had been worn down by the boss's relentless bullying, quietly requesting a transfer for at least three years before Jeonghan finally relented. Since then, the turnover of assistants had been alarmingly high. Jeonghan desperately hoped you would stick around. Moreover, if either you or Seungcheol objected to this arrangement, he had enough leverage to ensure you both comply. Enough dirt to keep both of you in line.

Your meeting with Chan the next day went well. He explained to you the workings, gave you tips and tricks on how to make sure all the work gets done. Overall, a 10/10 experience, except the small hiccup at the end where he cryptically said something along the lines of “Best of all fucking luck with this job because you will need it.”

Now a small best of luck is never a bad gesture, but that statement!

That shit was a bit too hostile, even for you. But you are fine, happy even. Anything that saves you from getting your life cut short by a mafia leader is always welcomed.

“What are you doing here?”

“Where is Jeonghan?”

The first two sentences to ever leave The Choi Seungcheol’s mouth the minute he sees your face when he comes into his office that afternoon. Indeed, so delightful!

"Sir, I've been assigned as your work assistant for the time being," you reply, your eyes downcast. It is a surreal turn of events considering just yesterday this man was tied up in your basement. After that ordeal, everything seemed to take on a different hue, almost as if you were hearing the bells of heaven. So, that reaction seems pretty appropriate to you given the circumstances.

Now you see our oh so beloved Mr. Choi was not just an underground mob because what is the fun in that, right! He mostly did international business under the guise of his company named The ChoiTech, solely based on providing technological change using sustainable means. Pretty cleaver tactic, although overused, but still gets the job done, so who are you to judge.

The man looking extremely shocked at your statement immediately rushed inside his office, you presume, to call Jeonghan. And sure enough, within five minutes of him disappearing from your sight, you could hear him loudly complaining to his secretary on the phone. “But Jeonghan I can’t be collaborating with her, after what she did to me yesterday!”

The man whined and then suddenly you could hear hushed whispers, so being the curious cat you were, slowly crept near the door to hear the conversation better.

“But man, it’s humiliating. She kidnapped me for fucks sake”, the oh so powerful man, who people assumed will one day rule the underworld, whined like a kid who has been denied to go on a playdate with their best friend.

By this time, you were almost pressed onto the door when suddenly the sound of someone clearing their throat made you jump away from it and look about for the person who stopped you from consuming you daily dose of gossip.

The culprit, Joshua, stood right in front of your desk with an amused look on his face.

Now Joshua is someone you were extremely familiar with, being the man who took care of assigning roles to the lower members of the group, you have had a lot of angry conversations with him.

“I would ask you if Seungcheol is busy, but the way you were trying so hard to eavesdrop, makes me think otherwise,” he says, making you roll your eyes.

“Just give me a minute to tell him you are here, then you can go in.”

The man nodded still looking thoroughly amused at how sad you looked due to missing out on whatever conversation you were listening to.

After a minute, the man was inside, now looking even happier that he has seen his next victim to torment.

“So Jeonghan was indeed right,” he said, looking like he was having a tough time controlling his laugh.

“Not you, too,” the pouty man whined from behind the desk. “But really, can you tell him to not put that woman as my assistant? I get war flashbacks every time I see her face,” he continued whining.

“I mean, I could do that, but where is the fun there, right!” Joshua, thoroughly enjoying his boss’s misery, replied. “But in all seriousness, you could just treat her like Chan. The boy is still traumatized by the amount of work you made him do,” he thoughtfully added.

The older replies, “I liked Chan, he was nice, would do anything you ask him to!”

“And so will she. Her life is at stake here, give her some benefit of the doubt.”

This statement made the older think like never before. Plans of tormenting you to quit your job rushing past his brain at high speed. Suddenly everything made sense.

“I can take my revenge! That is exactly why Jeonghan made her my assistant. Oh, my friend is such a genius!” Seungcheol said, looking a bit too enthusiastic.

“Ok, I am sure it was done to decrease his workload, but whatever you say, man,” the younger said skeptically after seeing the diabolical look on the elder’s face.

It has already been three weeks and suddenly you understand what Chan meant all those days back when he wished you good luck. To put it quite plainly, your boss is crazy.

The man was a combination of workaholic and perfectionist, which resulted in him getting swamped by work and by default the same fate befalls you every day, too. For the past three weeks, you have had a challenging time at the office to even take a break to eat food.

The men you called your enemies once, aka Jeonghan and Joshua, are the ones now saving you from dying out of malnutrition. You are eternally thankful to them. But more than anything now, you regret trying to kidnap Kim Mingyu—the name makes you want to cry in a corner and throw rocks at people, if you had any time to do so.

“Sir, you scheduled two appointments at the same time: the new project for the Orin Community Park and another one with Mr. Xu for the narcotic deal.”

You informed the man who had his face shoved in some papers, reading something diligently.

“Why did you not stop me from doing so then, you were right beside me when I was going through the plan.”

Now, it is your job to curate the perfect schedule for the man to follow, but Seungcheol being the guy born only to cause you inconvenience made his schedule for the week himself this time.

Why you might ask?

Purely because the man is a chronic insomniac and whenever he has trouble sleeping, instead of taking measures to have a peaceful sleep, he tries his hands in different works because he can, and this time his victim was the poor, poor schedule of his.

“Because you had already sent them both emails, sir,” you say, thoroughly exasperated.

“Ok maybe I did, so now I obviously can’t cancel on both so you figure out something so that I can attend both the meetings, because I ain’t missing any.”

The man just turns his chair around and keeps reading whatever he was reading in the first place.

With an extremely calm voice, you say, “sir I need you to stop trying to do something to pass time when you can’t sleep. I need you to actually go to a doctor.” “Can’t,” comes his response, making you sigh more.

Sometimes it feels like you are working as a babysitter to a grown man instead of an assistant to a CEO.

Seeing the conversation would be going nowhere if you keep talking to him, you go out and do the second-best thing in your books.

Call Chan.

“Lemme guess, the boss is giving you a hard time!” The first sentence he says right after picking up the phone.

Sighing, you tell him all of Seungcheol’s various administrative behaviors throughout this week. When you got to the part where he had so bravely and meticulously made the perfect schedule, Chan started laughing. The gall of that boy!

“Wait, he still does that!” He exclaimed between his laughs, making you feel even more annoyed.

After calming down he says, “just make Jeonghan or Jihoon go for the community meeting and let him manage the narc. I know you are thankful, so do not mention it, but maybe buy me a meal when you are free, as a repayment.”

Chuckling at the younger boy, you agreed to get him whatever he asks for purely because he is a literal angel, and he deserves the world. Ok, maybe it is a bit too dramatic, but the boy was indeed your angel in disguise.

Planning on following through with the advice Chan gave you, you called both Jeonghan and Jihoon simultaneously. As Jeonghan was busy, Jihoon accepted the work of going to the community welfare meeting instead of Seungcheol.

After that, the whole day was smooth sailing. But the main root of all your problems was happy, maybe not healthy, but the look of pure happiness and the twinkling eyes when he passed by your desk was hard to miss.

This man was slowly but surely making sure to strip you of your patience bit by bit.

The last straw to eradicating your already depleting patience came when Seungcheol in all his glory, during one of his nightly ‘Imma take away other’s jobs because sleep refuses to befriend me’ escapades, deleted all your assistant notes for the server by mistake.

You still are baffled as to how he did that. Truth be told so is he. He was scrolling away on his phone when he saw this reel about ‘how to increase your Wi-Fi speed.’ Extremely intrigued by it, he had actually tried to increase the internet speed in his house, and he swears on every god on planet earth it worked. So, he tried doing so with the one in his office, which weirdly enough resulted in removal of all the information that you had stored in your laptop.

Now if this would have happened to his computer, too, you would not have gotten as angry as you were, but the motherfucker’s computer was all well and good and if you actually pay attention, it seems that his internet speed has increased, too!

How this man become a CEO is beyond you. What is not so beyond is your pure hatred for him and his technologically challenged ass.

So that night when Seungcheol, stayed back as usual to do work, you took your chances, entered his office, and slammed a ball of yarn and two knitting needles on his table while scaring the life out of the, not so, poor man.

“Start knitting!” you calmly said.

“But I don’t know how to though!” he replies, thoroughly confused.

“Then learn, Seungcheol! I don’t care what you want to do, I need you to learn and pick up a hobby, start gaming, try knitting anything! Just make sure you are not trying to turn the office upside down.”

Anyone who knows Seungcheol also knows never to question his nightly routines, but more than that, they also know the pride of the man is too high to ever accept his mistake. So, when you commit the grave crime of pointing out his mishap with the Wi-Fi router that morning, you hit the nail on the head and pissed him to the fucking moon.

“So, you think I’m bad at what I do?!”

“No, I think you are technically inept. And you should leave it to people who are good at it.”

This pisses off Seungcheol more than anything, but you don’t let him intervene as you keep speaking.

“On top of that you are constantly making changes in your schedule without informing me. You’re your assistant. Maybe have you ever considered the fact that your schedule was made so that your day is smooth sailing, and no two activities overlap!”

“Just because you refuse to go to a doctor and try and find a way to manage your stress does not mean you make the workplace hell for us.”

By the end of your rant, you were fuming and Seungcheol was stunned.

Clearing his throat, he says awkwardly, “I’m sorry you feel so, I will try and fix my schedule.”

Now, although this statement made you feel better, it also confused you, as you were fully prepared to have a full-blown fight with the man. Him backing down was never an option. But now that it has happened, you muttered a small, “I shall be going then”, to which your boss meekly nodded.

After you were outside, you ended up feeling better due to unloading all your anger on the man. It was refreshing. Now you just needed to see what changes tomorrow will bring for Seungcheol.

It had been two months since you had the argument with Seungcheol, more like your single woman shouting spree. But things have been better. He has tried to keep his need for new experiences down and this has made your life exponentially easier.

Did you now have time to eat. Absolutely not!

But the office was not a nightmare anymore.

If someone would have told you five months ago that this is what your future held for you, you would have straight up laughed at their face and told them to get themselves checked. But life has weird ways of throwing you in situations you don’t expect yourself to be in, and you have no other ways of getting out but learn to go with the flow.

You sometimes talk to Jun and Seokmin, and you have realized you got the hardest of all the jobs.

You asked Jeonghan about it once and his answer was, “because I can and its fun!”

So here you are sitting on the couch with Seokmin while enjoying your sandwich when you see Seungcheol come outside carrying a bag, Jeonghan trailing behind him sporting this devilish look on his face.

The big man walks towards you and hands you the bag. Opening it you notice a green scarf sitting at the bottom.

“Seungcheol’s first knitting creation, and he says thank you for forcing him to learn knitting. It helps him sleep now.” Jeonghan says while pointing at the bag even before the older man could open his mouth.

Seokmin tries to make himself as invisible as possible while looking extremely interested in the whole situation unfolding in front of him.

Seungcheol waves his hands at Jeonghan trying to hush him down and whines, “let me speak!”

“I made this cause you told me it would help me sleep! I didn’t think it could actually help me, but it looks like it did, so I’m extremely thankful for your suggestion.”

“Good job!” Jeonghan says, patting Seungcheol’s head like he was a child, making you laugh a bit.

“Thank you for listening to me, sir!”

“Oh, no, call him by his name, or else he will become weird with you again!” Jeonghan says, making you laugh again. Seungcheol pouts at both of you and storms back to his office, with Jeonghan at his tail making fun of him yet again.

After that, you kept the bag in your desk and went to bid your friend goodbye.

“He looked like he was confessing to his crush, you know”, Seokmin muses.

“Maybe he has a crush on you!” He exclaimed after pausing for a moment.

“I don’t, he is a weird person,” you had replied thoughtfully.

Realizing he has been chatting with you for a long time, Seokmin quickly rushes outside while loudly screaming a ‘goodbye’ for the whole building to hear.

When you came back to your desk, Jeonghan was waiting for you there. The man just looked at you with a smirk and said, “see you later y/n, and make sure to wear the scarf!”

Jeonghan is a weird person. You more often than not don’t listen to what he tells you to do. He forces you to do them anyways.

“Seriously, lady, do wear the scarf. Plus, it’s cold outside—you won’t get a heatstroke if you do so.”

With that he was outside of the office, too. Slowly work caught up with you and you forgot about the scarf altogether.

That evening, as you were finishing up at work and preparing to leave, you grabbed the scarf that had been gifted to you and wrapped it around your neck before stepping out of the office.

Unbeknownst to you, the man who had given you the scarf felt a rush of joy upon seeing you wear it. Concealing his flushed cheeks, he quietly followed you out and spontaneously invited you to join him for dinner, explaining that he had given Seokmin the night off and now was in extreme need of a dinner companion, as Seokmin would fill in that position on most nights. It was unusual for him to make such a request, but you were both hungry and couldn't resist the offer of a free meal, even if it was from someone as harmless as him.

"So, what do you think?" Seungcheol asked as the two of you sat at the ramen shop waiting for your orders.

"About what?" You replied, genuinely puzzled by his question.

"Didn't you read the letter?" He asked, his face turning even redder as he mentioned it.

"What letter?" You responded, glancing around until Seungcheol nodded towards the bag in which he gave you the scarf, looking inside you noticed an envelope that matched the interior perfectly sitting at the bottom.

"Oh! I can read it now," you exclaimed.

"Don't worry about it right now," he interjected as the waiter arrived with your bowls of ramen.

Despite his reluctance to discuss the letter further, your curiosity only grew stronger after he dropped you off at your doorstep. Once inside your home, you wasted no time in retrieving the letter from your bag. Its contents filled you with excitement like never before.

The following day at the office, you placed another letter on Seungcheol's desk before getting on with your usual tasks, eager to see his reaction.

"So, let me get this straight—you've been dating our boss for the past month?" Exclaimed Jun, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner? How did this even happen?!" Chimed in Seokmin, equally stunned by the news.

As soon as you revealed your relationship with Seungcheol, you found yourself bombarded with a flurry of questions from your friends. It was amusing to witness their sheer astonishment, and yet, deep down, it felt incredibly rewarding to share this surprising news with them.

What started as a casual hangout quickly transformed into a lively interrogation session, with your friends firing off all sorts of curious inquiries. Most pressing among them was the question:

“How and when did all of this happen?!”

You couldn't blame them for their curiosity. It seemed like just yesterday that you had kidnapped Seungcheol off the street instead of his friend Mingyu, which resulted in Jeonghan gaining the perfect opportunity to bully you both half to death. And let's not forget the hell and back experience you were subjected to from Seungcheol himself, the man who had once resorted to extreme tactics to get you to quit as he was reminded of the oh so humiliating experience he went through every time he saw your face. But somehow, it all worked out in the end, and you couldn't be happier about how it turned out.

Near the end of your gathering, you couldn't resist the urge to pull out your phone and reveal the most treasured image in your gallery: a photograph capturing two pieces of paper resting on a desk. One paper bore a lengthy paragraph, while the other simply displayed a single, bold sentence:

"Take me out on a proper date first!"

The photo encapsulated perfectly how you both worked so well with each other. It was a sweet reminder of how unexpectedly love can bloom in the most unconventional of circumstances.

As your friends marveled at the photo, you couldn't help but reflect on how far you and Seungcheol had come in such a short time. Despite the initial hurdles and challenges you faced with the man, you were grateful for the bond you now shared—a relationship built on laughter, friendship, and, of course, a bit of unexpected romance.

The end hope you like it !!

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devilfic · 4 months

Text

❝small favor❞

V. the christmas special.

parts: previously / next plot: it's the most beautiful time of the year. pairing: mcu!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: christmas shenanigans, alcohol mentions, harry gets drunk for norman osborn related reasons, peter is a little ball of anxiety because he likes you, can I share with you what jobs I think ned and mj got after graduation. words: 8.4k.

a/n: this was gonna be a two-parter but I thought. no. so instead it's just super long :D

Peter has started visiting more.

There were the surprise visits on weekends. Something was just too important to wait a week, and too important to give you a call, and you liked that he made a note of bringing you food for the trouble. Then he was popping in on Wednesday nights—sometimes Friday mornings—because he'd forgotten to tell you this or he just couldn't wait to tell you that.

And he has texting you more, too. Not super serious things either, and after a few days of it, you had worked the fight or flight reaction to his ringtone out of your system. At some point, you had started feeling like this was becoming... a genuine friendship.

"I mean... I... yeah. We talked about it, didn't we?" Peter stops pouring, brownie batter dribbling off the lip of the bowl, "Friends. I- I think of you as a friend. If you think of me... as a friend."

You gnaw on your pen as you study him. It's another weekend surprise visit, and this time he's brought you boxed brookie batter as an olive branch. You'd actually been busy this time, and so you'd put him to work baking it while you made your vacation list, "It's just... crazy. I mean, we went from being strangers to only seeing each other once a week—purely professionally—and now you bake me things. And we hang out."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing! It's just weird," he continues to pour as you talk, "I used to see you as this unattainable hero. I couldn't believe you trusted me, felt comfortable enough to tell me your name, to care enough that even EDITH knows who I am. And now we're friends."

Peter's nose scrunches at that, and you've never wished more than now that you could see the rest of his face. He starts placing balls of cookie dough in the batter, "You talk about me like I'm Beyoncé or something."

"You're the Beyoncé of superheroes."

"Hey, that is not true. That title goes to Captain Marvel."

"Not to me."

"Well, of course not to you. You're my biggest fan."

"Wow, demoted to a fan already."

Peter slides the pan into the oven, "You know what I mean. You're biased."

"You're starting to sound like Jameson now."

He kicks the oven door closed and hops up onto the kitchen counter next to you, nudging your knee with his knee, "Oh, you haven't heard my Jameson impression. Watch this." Peter clears his throat, clenches his fist, and shakes it in the air, "Spider-Man is a menace and should be charged with domestic terrorism!"

You giggle, "Do more."

"5G isn't giving your kids cancer, it's Spider-Man leaving his webs all over the city!"

"More!"

"Spider-Man is laying eggs in our city's sewers so that one day, all his freaky spider children will rise up and take over New York!"

"Please, keep going."

Peter groans. You see his head tilt toward the notepad in your lap, "How's the vacation going? Or vacation planning, I guess."

You sigh. Your list to pack kept getting longer, and yet, anytime you tried to focus on what to bring, you would just remember something else you needed to do before leaving New York. "How do you think, based on my utter lack of excitement?"

Peter raises a brow, "Whaaat? You're not excited for Miami?"

"I was, but... everything in the world is happening at the same time. Jameson wants me to get two more articles out before I leave and my family wanted me in Florida three days ago. At this rate, I'm just barely going to make it there before Christmas. Not to mention..." You trail off as you look to Peter, whose mask eyes have gone comically wide in interest, "I don't want to leave you all alone."

"You know I've been Spider-Manning since I was like, 14, right?"

"Well, yeah, but- wait, 14?" Peter grimaces. You gloss over it before he can worry himself about it, "Anyway, I just worry. I mean, with Fisk turning the PR tide and God knows what he's planning, I don't wanna just fly to the other side of the country. It feels wrong."

Peter smirks, "Nah, nah. It's fine. I can take care of myself."

"Don't make me remind you about how all of this," you gesture between Peter and the oven, "started." He looks away from you, sheepish. "You know what I mean, right? Maybe I'm overestimating my worth to you, but-"

"You're definitely not. You have no idea how much you mean to me." That stuns you. It stuns both of you, clearly, if Peter's frantic peek at your face was anything to go by. His mouth gapes like a fish out of water for a moment, "I just mean that... you've made being Spidey... easier on me. It's nice knowing someone's actually on my side in this city. So yeah, it will feel really weird without you being just a swing away."

"You can still call, Peter. I won't mind."

"And when your family asks who's bothering you while you're sunbathing on the beach?"

"I mean, my little cousins will be impressed if I name drop Spider-Man."

He smiles. He kicks his feet out, heels bumping the cabinet doors beneath you while silence settles. You take this chance to examine a slight fraying on the fabric of his suit, a hole beginning to form on his upper thigh that you could just fit your pinky through. You remembered a time when his suit was made out of sweatpants and a dream.

He was 14 when he first started all of this. When you were 14, you were stressing over high school essays and alien invasions. You couldn't help but think that maybe he'd lost his youth to this thing. This thing that brought you together.

Spider-Man who, back then, was really a kid. He'd had to grow into it. You couldn't imagine having to grow into that. "Well, that's enough about my holiday plans. What about you?" Peter prepares to answer, then deflates. "What's up?"

He bites his bottom lip, "I don't... have any."

Your heart sinks, "What? Why not?"

"No, no, it's fine. I'll probably be out on patrol making sure everybody else is having a safe, criminal-free winter break."

Sliding off the counter, you come to stand in front of Peter with your arms folded, "Absolutely not."

"Okay, before you say anything-"

"It's Christmas, Peter! You're supposed to take time off! Be with friends and family. If you never take a break, you'll wear yourself out."

"Just hear me out-"

"No! I won't have it. You're not the only hero in New York. You're taking Christmas off. I don't care if I have to stuff you in a carry-on and take you with me but you will not be working-"

One hand clamps around the back of your head and the other silences you, turning your complaints into mush, "If you would let me finish..." you huff indignantly against his hand, "you'd know that a friend of mine is throwing a Christmas party and I was invited. There. I have plans."

Your face softens. "Really?" You ask, but the sound is muffled and it comes out more like, "Will-ee?"

Peter laughs, hand slipping from your mouth, "Really. I'll at least take a few hours off. Maybe more if I fall into a food coma."

Peter's other hand is still cradling your head, but you don't bring it to his attention. "You promise? I won't have to fly back early and check up on you, will I? 'Cause I'll do it."

"I wouldn't stop you." You glower, making Peter's mask eyes squint with amusement, "I promise."

"Sometimes I think you like making me worry over you."

"Would you believe me if I said that I'm just this awful all the time?"

"Yes, but that would make me worry even more."

The hand at your neck gently curls around the side of your throat, Peter's thumb angling your chin up to his own. The brush of it makes you tremble just slightly.

Was he trying to make you dissolve into a puddle?

"I'll be okay. Just... come back to the city, will ya? Don't fall in love with Miami."

You place one of your hands over the hand on your throat. The other hovers somewhere near his knee on the countertop, unsure of yourself. When you admire his exposed mouth, you think of Peter. Parker.

You remember you hadn't actually talked about that since it happened. It was Peter's intention to skirt around Parker, regardless of how certain you were that they were the same person. It was all in jest, sure, but some small part of you (some incredibly small, minuscule, microscopic part of you) wondered if your reporter brain just fit the two pieces together because it wanted them to fit.

Perhaps he wasn't Peter Parker. Perhaps this really was all a coincidence, and perhaps aliens didn't fall from the sky and gods didn't save the world.

You wouldn't push him on it. You wouldn't look into it either, because reporter brain be damned. You cared more about the Peter you knew than the Peter you didn't.

You smile up at him, "How could I? Miami doesn't have you."

"Nice to see you could finally make it, kiddo." Jillian is grinning at you when you arrive, her baby tucked at her hip and her wife entertaining the little monster over her shoulder. She sees the winded look on your face and immediately motions you over, pressing a hand to your cheek, "Did you crawl out of a snowdrift? You're freezing!"

You lean into it, chasing the warmth in hopes that it would restore some feeling to your skin, "The storm's getting awful out there."

"Came outta nowhere, didn't it?" Jillian's wife snorts, booping the baby's nose. "We almost didn't risk coming with the little one, it was so bad."

Said little one looks perfectly warm wrapped up in her blanket, an envious sight as you shiver and shuck off your coat to hang. You would offer the kid a boop on the nose yourself, but with your fingers frozen solid around your offering—a plate of sugar cookies—you don't want to make her cry. You give her a smile instead.

"Oh, and would you believe it?" Jillian whispers, sidling up to you, primed for gossip, "We've got a real treat here tonight. Take a wild guess who decided to show up."

"Jonah's wife?"

Jillian cackles, "God no. The stalker."

As soon as she says the name, your eyes zero in on him.

He's wearing that plaid shirt again, but the collar and cuffs are all that peek out from underneath a wrinkly blue sweater. His hair is free and gelled back, revealing his nervous expression more clearly. Nursing a cup of apple cider, he just barely looks like he wants to be here. But then he catches your eye across the room.

And he waves.

"Oh my," Jillian teases, "you must've left quite the impression if he came all this way just to see you."

"He did not come just to see me." You reply in a hushed tone, but she laughs at you all the same.

"Sure. And that's not him heading over right now, even though he's been hugging the wall all night."

You jerk your head to where Parker was standing, and, sure enough, he's pursuing you.

You part from Jillian before she can get the chance to embarrass you (she accepts your cookies as payment), and so you all but jog to meet him halfway.

He doesn't get the chance to be polite before you're interrogating him, "Where did you go?"

"Uh... What?"

"At the gala. When I ran back inside the ballroom, I couldn't find you anywhere."

Peter's eyes slowly widen, "You went back inside?"

"Answer the question, please."

"Wh- I... I was there. You didn't see me?"

"No, I didn't."

"It got crazy after Fisk rushed the stage. I got swept up in the crowd. You must've missed me."

"Really? 'Cause I was with the crowd, you know. In front of the building? Where Fisk was giving his big speech about how he saved the day? I didn't see you anywhere."

Peter blinks, then gasps as if he'd just remembered something important, "You know what? That's right. I went to go find Harry. I wanted to make sure he was alright, and then I couldn't find you in the crowd so I just assumed... I'm sorry for leaving you back there all alone." You watch as he fumbles for something convincing, "I texted Spider-Man about it, though. He said you were safe."

You fold your arms, "...Is that all he said about me?"

"Well, that. And something about your conspiracy theory?"

"Conspiracy theory."

The topic change gets some of the tension in Peter's shoulders melting away, replaced with a smile faint enough to not pass as overtly smug. He waits for one of your co-workers to move out of earshot before continuing, "You think... I'm Spider-Man."

Your jaw tightens. You know that anyone would draw the same conclusions you did after that night. You also know that no matter how logical your reasoning is, you sound highly illogical when you admit to it out loud. If you brought up the same accusation to Jillian or Jameson, they'd both laugh you out of the office.

You have to stand your ground, though. If there was one thing you were learning about Peter, it was that he was easy to fluster, "And if I do?"

"I'm flattered, really, but I don't really have the hand-eye coordination."

You know it's bullshit. He should know you know it's bullshit. If it hadn't been for his quick thinking, you and Harry would've been trampled under the masses at the gala. It's bullshit and he's waiting for his checkmate that will never come.

You do not give it a second thought. You toss your phone at Peter's head.

And he catches it. Of course he does. He stops it mere inches from his face.

If anyone saw you try to give him a concussion, they don't come over to question you on it. "Can you..." Peter starts after a breath, a bit dazed, "...can you stop trying to hit me?"

You go to defend yourself because, at the very least, you hadn't meant to try to punch Peter—which meant it didn't count—when someone barrels right into you.

And, to prove you right twice in a row, Peter is quick to catch you. He scoops you up into his arms before you end up a reporter pancake on the floor. One of your co-workers, already blitzed off spiked eggnog, had bumped you on their way to the drinks table for what looked like the umpteenth time tonight, and didn't have enough marbles to apologize before bumping someone else.

Peter is careful in how he holds you. There's that unmistakable strength behind his grip, but also... he was gentle. He felt safe.

You don't make to escape just yet, all your bravado knocked right out of you. "Jesus, you okay?" His eyes dart over to your co-worker and a scowl turns his expression sour, "Jonah should put a cap on the drinks."

You feel more than embarrassed stumbling to your feet, even more so when Peter still coddles you after you're standing upright. "I'm fine. Thanks." Peter's looking at you, brows drawn together, with so much concern it makes that second thought from earlier come in hot with a sizable topping of shame, "Talk about instant karma."

Then it's gone. Peter laughs and... it sounds just like your Peter. Undeniably. You can't help but give in. For a fleeting moment, the question of secret identities has melted away and it's just the two of you, giggling about something silly.

You're ashamed enough to apologize for throwing your phone at his head when the laughter dies down. You succeed in stealing it back and lead him over to the windows, far away from any more drunken disasters, "It's alright. I've had worse thrown at me before."

You raise an eyebrow, "Oh? Like what?"

His voice catches in his throat at first, "A... carton of expired milk. High school bully, Flash Thompson. We were both on the same academic decathlon team but he never gave up on his dream of professional baseball."

"Flash Thompson? You mean, Silicon Valley, MIT grad, tech startup millionaire Flash Thompson?"

Peter winces, "The one and only."

You frown at the distant look on Peter's face, aware of some regret there at the mention of Flash. "You and Harry went to ESU together, right? Is that where you always wanted to go?"

Peter shakes his head, but a smile comes to his face regardless, "MIT was my first choice, actually. But... even with a scholarship, I just couldn't imagine leaving New York behind. So I stayed. Went to ESU. Helped my Aunt May with the mortgage on her first house since my... my uncle passed. And now I'm selling pictures of Spider-Man to pay my rent."

You can't help the way you soften. "I'm so sorry about your uncle, Peter. Your Aunt May is lucky to have you around."

His eyelids flutter closed for a breath, and his smile grows wider. If it were even possible. "I'm lucky to have her."

You stand there together in silence after that, but it feels more comfortable than before. All the scrutiny and speculation you'd come in with had faded away, and now you were left wondering more about Peter. His hopes, his dreams, his life before all of this. What would it have been like if he'd gone to MIT? Where would you be? Or Spider-Man?

Peter's eyes peel open, "So, what about you?"

"Oh. Well, I took a shine to my school newspaper. After... everything in 2012, I knew the world would never be the same. So I had dreams of becoming a journalist, covering the street, being the first on the scene. Took my ass to college on part-time jobs and a dream, and interned at nearly every newspaper in the city before Jameson gave me a shot here. As much as I can't stand the way he talks about Spidey... he's not that bad of a guy. All things considered."

Peter agrees, "He did hire you, so..."

"Yeah, well," you lean your cheek against the window, glass cooling your blush, "At least Spidey doesn't hold it against me... but, I have to ask: why the Bugle? I mean, with photos like yours, you should be fighting off every publication in the city. Instead you turn in these... absolute masterpieces, freelancing, for a guy who can't even give you due credit, and you only stop by for a paycheck."

Peter looks to the window, the wind howling over a crooner's cover of Santa Baby. The storm was still raging on outside, and you dreaded the thought of having to walk through it to get back home. The taxis wouldn't have much luck either from the looks of it. "I... like my job, but it's not what I wanna do forever. I don't care about fame or Pulitzer prizes. It's always been about taking care of me and my Aunt May, and Jameson is a lot of things but he's always understood that. He pays me enough that I can have a place of my own and a little leftover for my aunt, and he doesn't ask questions.

"I don't need to be seen. And that's the whole point, isn't it?" His expression gradually warms as he recalls something, "It's not who's behind the lens that matters, but who's in front of it."

Your expression warms too, "I can see why Spidey likes you."

A notification disturbs the moment. Raising a finger at Peter, you check the latest notification... and your stomach drops.

Peter takes a step forward, sensing the change in atmosphere, "What? What is it?"

"My flight's been cancelled. I was leaving tomorrow for Miami but the storm..."

"Oh. Man, I'm sorry."

"I should've left sooner, I should've left when my family..." You lose the motivation to even finish your sentence, feeling exhausted all at once, "It doesn't matter anymore. I'm stuck here for Christmas."

Peter stuffs his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet as he searches for something to say. You're about to tell him not to worry about it when he speaks up, "You know," he starts, the uncertainty in his voice giving you pause, "it's no... Miami, but my aunt throws this Christmas party every year? For Christmas Eve. We invite a few friends over for dinner. She'd love it if you came."

"Oh, Peter, that's sweet but... I don't really want to intrude on a friend thing-"

"No, no, it's okay! Anyone can come. It'll just be my aunt, some of her co-workers from F.E.A.S.T., a few of my friends, my ex-girlfriend-"

"Your- what?"

"Oh. Well, I mean, we were friends before we dated. Well... technically? She sort of just... hung around me and Ned in high school and then we started dating for a while but then we broke up in university. But we stayed friends. Became better friends, actually. So, she's my ex but also a really good friend. I promise it's not weird or anything. She's super cool about it. And I am too! Her name's MJ. I think you'll like her."

You stare at Peter. You think you see a bead of sweat twinkle on his forehead underneath the Christmas lights above.

He insists that you're welcome to come, and staying home alone for Christmas would be pretty hypocritical after your argument with Spider-Man.

Spider-Man.

"...and Spider-Man will be there."

Spider-Man?

You abruptly lock eyes with Peter. "Spider-Man?"

Peter's smile is tight-lipped, "Yeah." His voice cracks. "I mean, he's just stopping by real quick, but I invited him. He might not come. But... he also might."

Was this the friend of his throwing a Christmas party? Why in the world would Peter (Parker) invite you to the same party Spider-Man would be at, unless he could stand in the same room as him at the exact same time? There'd be no other way to convince you otherwise, and you'd be forced to accept that they really were two completely different people.

Yeah, right.

You'd go to this party and suss it out for yourself.

And it wouldn't hurt, would it? Peter was nice, if not the most awkward person you've ever met. To offer you a place at his aunt's Christmas dinner not long after hurling an object at his head was a sign of true Christmas spirit. You could learn a thing or two from him, "Okay. You've convinced me. What's your number? You can text me the address."

Peter blanks for a moment, "Um... yeah, um..." You watch him flounder, growing increasingly suspicious, "Can I see your phone?"

You drop your phone in his hand. His fingers move quickly across the keyboard before returning it to you. Peter Parker is now in your contacts. You check the number against Spidey's but there isn't a match. "Thanks," you glance at his wobbly smile, "I sent you a text."

Peter gestures behind him, "Oh, cool, awesome. Will you excuse me for a sec? I gotta use the restroom." And he doesn't wait for you to affirm before he's rushing down the hall and out of sight.

A full minute passes before you receive a text back from Peter.

15 Amfan Ave Forest Hills, NY 11375 7pm :) Hope you can make it! He never shuts up about you *I *shut

Hm.

So... I hear you're throwing things at people now Who told you that? You lose one phone, then you try to bludgeon an innocent man with another. I should lock you up and throw away the key I wasn't trying to bludgeon him, because I knew he'd be perfectly *fine*. And he helped me prove a point Which was... That the chances of him being you are more likely than either of you would have me to believe Could it be that you just have a thing for attractive, masked men? That is That is irrelevant to the conversation HA you so do Literally nothing to do with anything I just said It's okay. The mask makes it really easy to project one's ideal man onto me. Or so I've learned through Twitter I'm not projecting *anything* onto you Do you picture Ryan Reynolds when you talk to me? It's okay if you do Peter, shut up Maybe someone more boyish like Timothy chalet Timothee Chalet Timothee Chalamett I'd say you just like hearing yourself talk but this is a textual conversation I like that we can talk like this :) I like it too :) What about Tom Holland? We've got the same jaw If you think me accusing you of being Parker is me projecting a handsome man onto you, I can only assume you think he's hot. Which means I can assume you have a thing for him. Because I can also make things up Like Batman and Clark Kent? Are you saying Parker is the Clark Kent in our fictional relationship? More like Superman and Jimmy Olsen And you're my Lois Lane? ... Goodnight, Peter

Aunt May's home is beautiful. There's a lovingly sculpted garden out front that has since given into the snow, but you can tell it's a sight in the spring. For now, the Christmas garland lining the doorframe—wrapped in a rope of rainbow lights—brightens up the porch. As does the collection of little striped sweater-wearing gnomes gathered around the front door.

There's a commotion of voices behind it as you approach. You shift your plate into one hand, pressing the doorbell with the other, and the voices get louder. You swallow down your nerves when the door is ripped open by a stranger.

The stranger in question is staring out into the dark at you like they weren't expecting you. Your eyes quickly dart to the plaque beside the door and see a bold "15" emblazoned there. Nope. This is the house.

Their eyes zero in on the plate in your hand. Smiling, they open the door wide and step back, "Sweet! Peter said you'd bring dessert."

You kick the snow off your boots before stepping inside. The stranger shuts the door behind you before any more of the cold could get in. "It's peppermint bark," you explain, returning a smile of your own, "but I hear May's making a cake."

"May and Peter. May's great with everything but the oven- don't tell her I said that. I'm Ned, by the way." Ned holds his hand out for a shake.

Ned is really talkative, you find out. He holds your peppermint bark as you undo your boots and coat at the door, rattling off about how Peter and he had been friends at Midtown. He tells you about his job as a cybersecurity specialist, a job he'd naturally floated toward after graduating from MIT, and how he'd stayed with the Parkers for a few months after moving back to New York. It's how he knows that the downstairs bathroom door won't close unless you lift up when you shut it. You only remember about half of what he says by the time you get to the living room.

There are considerably fewer people than you expected, one of which makes his way over the minute you catch his eye.

"Hey," Harry grins. Unlike the nice suit he'd worn to the gala, he's dressed down in jeans and an ugly sweater with "I've been naughty" printed in big letters across the front, looking a lot less tense than when you'd first seen him, "Fancy seeing you here."

"I could say the same." You can't help but ask, "Don't the Osborns host Christmas Eve at Oscorp tower every year?"

Harry's good mood fizzles out right before your eyes. You feel pretty awful about it. "Uh, yeah. Norman does. But it's more business than anything, so I dipped. I'd rather be here watching Pete fuck up a perfectly good cake."

"I heard that!" Peter's voice calls from a room away.

Harry's good mood returns, "Well, it's good to see you at the annual Parker holiday celebration. And I'll forgive you for poking into my family business if you hand over those treats."

Bashful, you let Ned pass the plate into your hands before passing it to Harry, "Sorry. Reporter brain."

Harry's nose scrunches up, "Don't apologize. Unless these taste like ass."

"I promise they taste better than ass."

"Good enough," he backs away, turning his head to shout down the hall, "Peter! Get in here already!"

When the redhead is immersed in a game of UNO, you turn to Ned, "And that doesn't... feel weird? Having Harry Osborn at family dinner?"

"There are weirder things about Peter. Speak of the devil."

The ugly sweater is the first thing you notice. A companion to Harry's, it is nearly the exact same design, except for the "I've been nice" where the "I've been naughty" had been. He's dusting his hands of something when he comes around the corner. His eyes soften when he sees you with Ned, "Hey, you came." He says in a much too gentle voice. Harry and his opponents nearly drown him out with their cheers and boos.

Unlike at the office party, you notice, Peter's hair isn't tamed by hat nor hair gel. Instead, it curls incessantly around his flushed cheeks. He looked like a damn Keebler elf. It was frustratingly adorable. "Of course. I heard there'd be cake."

"How is that cake, Peter?" Ned pulls on a piece of the ugly sweater as he walks by, and you realize that some of the red had been singed. You follow Peter's frantic gaze from the hole to you.

"This was unrelated to the cake."

"You burned something else?"

"No! One of the stockings fell into the fireplace and I-" Peter trails off as you begin to smile, "you don't get to laugh at me if you didn't bring sweets."

"I did! Harry stole them." You nod over to the coffee table where the group is devouring your peppermint bark with reckless abandon. At least you knew they didn't taste like ass. Peter rushes over to steal the plate before they could polish off the last handful, much to their protest.

"Dinner's almost ready, I swear. You've met Ned, uh, Harry..." Peter scans the group, using his free hand to point out people, "...that's Yolanda, Katie, Lexie, Eduardo: all May's friends. May's in the kitchen but I'd stay out of her way until the ham comes out unharmed."

You notice that out of everyone gathered in the house, he does not mention his ex-girlfriend. "And MJ?"

You wait for an answer. Instead, something heavy shakes the house from above. It doesn't sound like it came from outside, but rather somewhere in the house. Not quite above your head. Weirdly enough, only you seem to be concerned about it.

Peter just glances at the ceiling, "And MJ."

MJ is tossing an empty storage bin to the side when you crawl up through the floor behind Peter. She's crouched on the balls of her feet, shoulders slouched, the sharp bones of her back poking through her tight graphic tee. Her head snaps toward you both when she hears you grunt up the last rung of the ladder. Her eyes narrow on you, then Peter, "I can't find it."

Peter offers you a hand to hoist you further into the attic, "Did you check the-"

"Yes. And I checked the one next to it. And the one next to that."

You look at Peter for an explanation, but he doesn't provide you with one. He walks over to where MJ has now fallen back on her ass, rifling through one of the bins. His mouth twists to the side. "Maybe she meant the box next to her old CDs?"

"There's like 15 boxes in here, Peter."

Off to the side of the room, where MJ was currently facing the mysterious dilemma, were about nine—not 15—storage bins in disarray. Two were off to the side, emptied of their contents: there were piles of men's clothes, women's clothes, baby blankets, and more. The third box that MJ was poring over had Halloween decorations in it.

"Well, you're getting close." Peter encourages.

The way MJ grumbles resentfully has you squirming. As time ticked on, your presence unannounced, you were starting to feel like an intruder. You clear your throat and MJ looks over at you for the second time, "Maybe I could help?" You offer.

At this, MJ brightens. "Finally! Someone cares about my plight. I don't know you, do I?"

You crawl over to where MJ is sitting and Peter gestures to you, "MJ, I told you about the reporter from the Bugle, right?" You give your name for good measure, and MJ's eyebrows raise. She gives a quick, indecipherable look to Peter. He returns it. Then she examines you.

After a moment, she dusts her hand off on her khakis and holds it out for you to shake, "Michelle Jones. Call me MJ." You repeat her nickname warmly. "Peter never shuts up about you."

Peter chokes on his spit.

"He... he does?"

MJ continues shaking your hand for longer than necessary, smiling secretively now, "Oh, yeah. He's got your blog bookmarked too. Post notifs for your Twitter, the works." You cut your eyes to Peter, appalled that he'd ratted you out to someone else, but MJ is quick, "I figured it out on my own ages ago."

"Is it really that obvious it's me?"

"No." And she smiles wider.

Peter is about to cut in with something when a woman's voice rings out, shrill and clear despite two layers of flooring in between you. He's needed with the ham. He looks between you and MJ, reluctant, "Look, if you can't find it-"

"We will." MJ's reply is confident, leaving no room for failure. You feel a little pressure applied to "we".

Peter nods. He mouths an apology at you and skitters out of the attic.

Left alone with MJ, you notice that she is staring at you now. You feel like you've been left alone with an oracle, prepared for your innermost being to be laid bare before you: past, present, and future. She looks like the type to know what makes people tick.

"What are you looking for?" You try to break the silence, though your voice comes out meeker than you'd have liked.

She doesn't look away from you as her fingers grip the container in between her legs, "Uncle Ben's favorite Christmas sweater. All I know is it has a reindeer holding a beer on the front."

Reinbeer. You almost laugh at it. You imagine it would tickle an uncle pink too. "Then I'll get to looking."

You've only just crawled over to a bin of your own when MJ asks you outright, "You like Peter, right?"

Your hand stills as it pries the top off. You feel her eyes burning into your back. "He's... nice, yeah."

You can hear how unimpressed she is with that, "I don't know if it's obvious, but Peter isn't exactly popular." You think that's kind of a cruel thing to say about someone you consider a friend, but MJ keeps going, "All he had was Ned back at Midtown. And me, eventually. I've known him since high school and he's made maybe a handful of friends, maybe less. The last time he invited someone new to Christmas dinner was Harry."

And that had been at least a few years, judging by how long Harry had been away at Oxford.

But why was she telling you this?

"He likes you." You yelp when you realize MJ's voice has gotten close. You turn, and she's kneeling behind you with no interest in your fear. "But do you like him?"

In her hands is a faded, toy Iron Man mask. "I... I think he's nice. I mean kind," you correct yourself when MJ frowns, "but I... I don't really know him. I mean, I don't think I do. I've only actually spoken to him twice and one of those times, there was a gun involved. Everything I know about him is through his pictures and Spidey, and I trust Spidey. So, I trust Peter."

"And Spider-Man?"

"What?"

"Do you like Spider-Man?"

You swallow. Like didn't really sum up how you felt about him. He was a hero, an inspiration, a friend, and also... yeah, you felt something more there too.

You think about why she would ask. Why it would have anything to do with you liking Peter or not. You look at her and it feels like she hasn't really asked you that different of a question at all. Your answer is much more definitive this time, "I do. I like him more than I know what to do with."

MJ leans back on her haunches. She appraises you, "He's pretty great, isn't he?" Her tone is considerably softer.

"Yeah. He really is." You smile.

MJ hands the mask to you and you take it, admiring the chips in its paint and the lovingly worn edges. She scoots between you and the bin you'd been looking into and pops the lid off. Almost immediately, she swears in relief. Sitting folded on top is the most gaudy sweater you've ever seen. A deformed reindeer is embroidered on the front, and sure enough, holds a can of beer in its hoof. When MJ shakes it out, little specks of dust fly everywhere.

This, too, she hands to you. You look at her in bewilderment. "You'll wanna make a good first impression with May," she advises, "just be prepared for the water works."

And there are water works.

May throws her arms around your neck and just about sobs her thanks to you, squishing the sweater between your chests. You note that she smells like candy canes. When she draws back, her glasses are all askew, "And I'm so glad you could make it! Peter wouldn't shut up about you. Isn't that right, Petey?"

Peter's eye twitches. "I'm gonna set the table. Ned, you wanna set the table?" And he scoots past you and May without waiting for a response.

"Don't mind him, he gets testy when he's cooking. Did Petey give you the tour?" You shake your head and May kisses her teeth in Peter's direction, "Okay, this is the kitchen, around the corner here is the dining room. You've seen the living room and the attic. The bathroom is by the front door, and the bedrooms are upstairs. If someone's in the bathroom down here, do not use the bathroom by the stairs. That's Ned's favorite when he gets bubbly guts, and he will get bubbly guts."

Ned complains under his breath as he walks by.

"If you need somewhere to get away from the festivities for a bit, backyard's that way and my room's upstairs, first door to the left. All good?" She pets your shoulder. Then, she looks down at the sweater still in your hands and takes it from you, tenderly. "I'm gonna go change into this and then dinner is served. Help yourself to anything, okay?"

May leaves you in the kitchen with that. Around the corner, Peter and Ned are fussing over where to put the ham and sides. Around the other corner, Harry is drunkenly singing Christmas carols with Yolanda. MJ watches on from the corner of the room, recording on her phone. She catches your eye and mouths, "For blackmail."

You peek into the dining room and Peter is worrying over one of the chairs. You can hear Ned scold him, "Sit next to them. You don't wanna talk over the ham. It'll kill the mood."

"But how do I... subtly get them to sit in this chair and not next to MJ or something?"

"Tell MJ not to sit next to them."

"But what if-" You jolt a little when Peter suddenly spots you eavesdropping. He straightens up with a death grip on the chair he'd been messing with, "Hey! Hi. This is your chair by the way." And he tops it all off with a smile.

It's warm in May's home.

You don't even register the cold at first. You do register Harry's frenzy, the way he grabs far more napkins than he needs to, pressing them to your stomach where the majority of his spilled drink had gone. When you finally do comprehend what just happened, you place your hands over his, "How long have you been plotting your revenge?"

Harry is red-faced. He lets you hold the napkins there while May rushes to find a towel, "Sorry. I wasn't looking where I was- sorry."

You don't get to dwell on the déjà vu of it all. May is ushering you up the stairs with a beach towel pressed to your front, muttering about how she'll have to put Harry on ginger ale for the rest of the night. She guides you into what you're certain is Peter's old bedroom.

It's been cleaned out, and most of his personal belongings must be at his own place, but there are still old posters on the wall, and a calendar dated in April, two years ago. His bed is ruffled like he'd slept overnight. It's neat, and looks like it usually is neat, but there are traces of him everywhere, like picture frames with Peter and May and a man you don't recognize.

"Peter probably has something here you can wear. It's all stuff from college." She digs through the top drawer of his dresser, finally stopping on a sweatshirt with Empire State University in college block across the chest. "Here! You think this'll fit?"

She stretches it out and you nod, thankful, "Yeah, thank you so much, May."

She smiles, "Okay. Bathroom's across the hall if you need to wash off. I can run your shirt through a wash while you're here if you'd like. Just let me know, okay?"

May is, perhaps, the sweetest woman on earth. She leaves you with a thumbs up and shuts the door behind you, reminding you to lock it after she leaves.

Your shirt had absorbed most of the drink, and you're relatively unscathed besides some sticky residue. You wipe at your stomach with the towel she'd given you and slip Peter's sweater on. It feels... odd, wearing it. It smells like May's house with little traces of Peter.

Your eyes drift back to the picture frames.

One such frame sits on top of the dresser, a photo of Peter and the man who you assume is Uncle Ben. He holds Peter in a headlock but they're both smiling at the camera. You smile too, tracing a finger around the wooden edges.

Another picture is of Peter and MJ and Ned, standing outside of MIT with their fingers pointing at the school. Another is of Peter and MJ sharing cotton candy at Coney. Another is of Peter as a little boy, with two people flanking his side that you do not know. You realize you'd never asked about Peter's parents.

There are other photos of him around that age with May and Ben, and as you piece together what feels like an undoubtedly tragic story, you catch something outside the window.

A person. Hanging onto the side of the house.

Your heart hammers in your chest as a hand pushes the window up, and then, "Did I scare you?" Spider-Man perches on the sill with what you can imagine is a shit-eating grin.

You stomp over to the window and shove at his shoulder, but he doesn't budge in the slightest, "You almost gave me a heart attack! Were you watching me get dressed?"

The mask's eyes blow open, "What? No! I swear I just got here."

"Do you ever use the front door?"

"Not if I can help it," he crawls in, staying planted by the window, "don't tell me you're snooping through Parker's things."

"I was just... looking. At the pictures. And Harry Osborn spilled his drink all over me so I had to borrow Parker's shirt."

"Hm. ESU looks good on you."

You look up at Peter, who keeps his hands tucked behind his back, leaning against the wall by the window. "Aren't you gonna say hi to the party? Make Parker look cool?"

"Eventually. Maybe. Might just watch from afar."

"No, nuh-uh. You said you had holiday plans and that you were going to a party. That doesn't count if you're watching from afar."

Peter's head sways to the side, "I never said this was the party I was going to."

"Is there another?"

"Well... maybe. Maybe not."

"Peter-" You whine, but he cuts you off.

"I'm not a party guy! Sue me."

"Well, then Parker's got you beat two for two. Unless you're lying, since I haven't given up on my conspiracy theory."

Peter presses himself off the wall, sauntering toward you in a zig-zag. Your eyes follow him, back and forth, back and forth, until he's a step or two away. His hand reaches out to play with one of your sleeves, its seams resewn with mismatched thread, "Leaving a party as Peter Parker to come back as Spider-Man. Give Parker some credit. That's the kind of plan you come up with in high school."

You shrug, trying not to act like Peter playing with your sleeve wasn't giving you goosebumps. "You never know."

Peter nods, "Yeah, you're right. I mean, he was really excited to see you."

"Oh yeah?" You swallow.

"Yeah. Was kind of pathetic, actually."

Peter shoots a web at the ceiling and twists, catching the web between his feet so he could hang upside down. The suddenness makes you stumble back with a breathless laugh, "That's not a very nice thing to say about a friend."

"Weren't you the one who said he'd be shaking and crying if you yelled at him?"

You sigh, "I was... I was teasing you."

"Because I'm Peter Parker."

He says it matter of fact. You stare at him, "Yeah," you whisper, "that's right."

He pulls himself up the web until he's face to face with you, "Then that wouldn't be very nice to say to a friend, would it?"

"No, it wouldn't. If you were Peter Parker, I guess I'd have to apologize to you."

"Yeah? How?"

You breathe deep. Everyone is still laughing downstairs. You become hyper-aware of the fact that you hadn't locked the door. At any moment, someone could walk in and...

Peter waits, curious.

Your fingers trace the lines of his jaw, pressing into the fabric of his mask, feeling over the ridges where black lines broke red. You know what you want to do. And you also know that there is no going back if you do it.

Your fingers reach the place where the mask meets the rest of his suit. Hooking two fingers under the fabric, you pull.

Your fingernails trace over the curve of his Adam's apple as it bobs, over the jut of his chin. Peter's breath is heaving. One of his hands releases its grip on the web and you see it glide toward yours out of the corner of your eye. You just feel the skin of his bottom lip under your finger when you realize how this might look. What he might think you're trying to do.

Mask in hand, questions of his identity hanging in the air, your curiosity and his vulnerability. You release the mask, awash with worry. You want to get it out before there's any misunderstanding, but as your hand drifts back to yourself, his catches it. You would give anything to know what he's thinking right now.

Peter lets your fingers fall. Silently, he drags the mask over the tip of his nose and leaves it resting there. An invitation. "I trust you." He promises. And kisses you.

He has to stretch a little to reach you. You understand this and press closer, taking the back of his head in your hands and holding it steady for you, but you know you're trembling. You curse yourself for how much your body reacts to this, how uncool you must look, how you shake with all the excitement and terror of this. You kiss him and feel silly about how you claimed to know his lips so well before now. That was nothing.

This is everything. So many things. Each time you go back in for more, you lock away some new little detail about him.

Peter places a hand against your neck and tugs you even closer, but the momentum makes him swing a little bit so his nose bumps your chin. You're too stiff to laugh, but he does, "Sorry," his voice is raspy, "this looked cooler in my head."

You lean into him, dizzied, "Was this... did you plan for me to kiss you? When you got up there?"

"I've wanted to kiss you plenty of ways." Peter's admission is followed by a sigh. He presses a hand to your chest and nudges you back a step before he's dropping to his feet and advancing upon you once more, bumping you against the dresser as the picture frames rattle. Your fingers sneak under his mask at the back of his head so they can sink into his silky hair.

He probably kisses you a hundred more times after that. Every kiss you think might be the last, but then you feel a tug in your chest and go in for one more. An itch that no scratch can soothe.

Peter's mask starts to slip and you feel one of his hands leave your waist to fix it, but the warmth your fingers had snuggled into disappears and-

You keep your eyes screwed shut, "Peter." You gasp against his mouth. Your fingers twitch in his hair, finding no resistance.

"It's okay," he nudges your nose with his, still pressing kisses to the corner of your mouth, "it's okay."

"But-"

"Don't you wanna know if you were right?"

You squeak when his lips find the underside of your jaw, "I don't need- you don't need to-"

"You're always right," Peter interrupts you, kissing down your neck, "I was never fooling you. You're so smart, you know that?"

"Peter." You say his name with no real plans for it to do anything, letting your head fall back.

"Please." He says back. Urging.

You lift your head, heart hammering away, and meet the eyes of Peter Parker.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @bi-andready-tocry @thescarletfang @spider-biter @hufflepuff-n-fluff @daydreamdrive05 @mentalidrainedfangirl @gwennesy

#peter parker x reader #peter parker scenarios #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman scenarios #spiderman fic #spiderman fluff #tom holland peter parker #marvel #mjwrites #if you see any mistakes in this no u didn't #this has gone through a few revisions and uh. i'm sleeby

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gmalaart · 2 months

Text

The Spectacled Beholder

Name: Doctor Emon Cavendish

Gender: Left it on the surface (he/they))

Height: 6'4" (197cm)

Occupation: Enquirer, working under the Honey-Addled Detective’s wing.

Prominent skills: Watchful, Shadowy, Persuasive

Prominent quirks: Subtle, Heartless, Hedonist, Steadfast

Reputation:

Dr. Cavendish hasn’t been in London long but they’ve surely been busy. It isn’t uncommon to see them skittering through alleyways and avenues alike, keen eyes flitting this and that way in search of opportunity. Not much is known for sure about them, just that he came from the surface and took to the city like it was his to begin with. However, there are rumours about a brother they apparently have on the surface, about their previous life being an overly sheltered one, or even about their academic pursuits being a front for activities tied to The Great Game. For now, the doctor hasn’t sworn allegiance to any faction yet, and their intentions remain a bit of a mystery to any prying eyes.

Personality:

SUBTLE; despite their eccentric appearance, Cavendish is nothing if not discreet. They’ve apparently spent a lot of their life avoiding people’s scrutiny and they prefer to be a fly on the wall rather than the centre of attention.

HEARTLESS; simply put, Cavendish doesn’t much care for the wellbeing of others. They’ve seen what it does to people, caring too much, and they’d rather avoid the hassle. Close relationships are quite alien to them due to this fact, but he’s amused when people try to form one (and someday, someone might sneak through one of his cracks)

HEDONIST; on the surface, the good doctor was said to be a bit of a shut-in, rarely leaving his family’s abode unless strictly necessary. Those restrictions are far behind them now, as they set out to sample all that London has to offer (especially the honey that their Detective friend is so fond of).

STEADFAST; despite their many faults, Cavendish is known to be a person of their word. That word may be bought with coin, secrets or favours, but outside of exceptional circumstances it is a matter of first come, first served.

+bonus: ALLERGIC TO BOREDOM; Cavendish has curiosity in spades as well as an overactive mind that can’t go very long without entertainment. A discerning mind will realise that this is the prime reason why they struggled in high society and why they decided to delve into Fallen London instead. Their smile is brightest when discovering something new and slightly scandalous (perhaps a bit too bright). Due to this they are also quite attracted to all manner of non-human beings found in the Neath.

Example Dialogue:

"Miss Bean,

If we are to cooperate in our investigation I must INSIST on getting rid of those wounds all over your person. I am acquainted with matters of the flesh and its rending (as I am sure you garnered from the scar across my own face, hah!) and I know that leaving a wound untreated is sure to cause unnecessary bleeding at the most inopportune time. If you were to leave a dripping trail of blood behind us right as our investigation is coming to its climax, why I fear I would have to abandon you there and then! And I would so miss your charm. Meet me in my lodgings within the next three days, I have some medical supplies left over from my latest errand for the Department of Menace Eradication.

Ever your servant,

Dr. E. Cavendish”

#fallen london oc #fallen london #art #original character #digital art #my art #the spectacled beholder #here they are!! finally!!#I spent a bunch of time just rendering this but I’m quite happy with the result #just in time to start the heart’s desire ambition and definitely not lose their soul

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autisticlancemcclain · 9 months

Text

“You want us to what.”

Lance doesn’t give a flying fuck how angry he sounds. Potential diplomatic crises be damned. Hell, he wants to cause a crisis. Wants to raise some hell.

The dignitary sniffs derisively. “The beast is a dangerous pest, Blue Paladin.”

“Not the blue paladin,” Lance growls, because he isn’t, “and I am not murdering an animal in cold blood just because you can’t deal with it properly.”

“Lance,” Allura hisses, but he has no problem ignoring her.

“Can’t deal with it properly — do you hear your paladin!” the dignitary sputters, waving an angry hand in Lance’s direction.

Shiro closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, before plastering on a tight smile and visibly trying to salvage the situation. Now, usually, Lance would hate to cause Shiro any stress at all, and would do whatever he could to reduce that stress.

This time, Lance is going to dig his heels in. He is not going to let a living being be needlessly exterminated. Lance isn’t anti-animal death, or anything — he has no problem with others eating meat, or using animal products. He thinks using animals as gifts and not letting any part of them go to waste is very wise, and he has a lot of respect for people who manage to do so successfully. Sport hunters, on the other hand, or people who kill without good reason? Therein lies his problem, and he’s beyond happy to make a big stink of it.

“Could you describe the beast?” Shiro asks.

“Happily,” the dignitary grumps. “I’m eager to describe its horror to you, Oh Great Leader of Voltron.”

Shiro visibly tries very hard not to roll his eyes. Lance refuses to take any joy in the reaction, even though he would usually laugh.

“The beast is as large as half our royal castle. Its teeth are larger than our tallest soldier, and sharper than a luxite blade. Its fur is rough and coarse, enough to sand the paint clean off the walls it brushes by. Its roar shakes the very foundations of our city. It walks on four legs but stands on two, right before it rears up to smash our buildings to dust. It is a menace, a pest, and a danger besides!”

“So you have a grizzly bear problem,” Lance snaps. “Close your garbage cans at night and quit complaining.”

“Lance, please,” Hunk mutters, but Lance will not back down. Not when a life is at stake.

“Has it actually…hurt anyone?” Keith asks.

Lance shoots a grateful look at Keith.

At least someone is on his side.

“Yes!” the dignitary cries.

Keith shoots a look back at Lance — a well, I tried if Lance has ever seen one — but that is not good enough. Lance glares at him.

Traitor.

“Explain,” Lance demands.

The dignitary frowns, looking down his nose at Lance and shaking their head. “I’m not talking to you.”

“Would you mind explaining,” Pidge deadpans, barely refraining from rolling her eyes.

Lance knows Pidge well enough to know that she’s not on his side, exactly — she threw a bolt at him when he started insulting the dignitary initially — but there’s nothing that pisses her off more than someone talking down to her family. Even if she doesn’t agree with said family. She’s loyal, like that.

“Fine, since you asked so nicely,” the dignitary says, cutting a look to Lance, who makes a very crude gesture with his hands in response and ignores the four (4) tired sighs from assorted teammates and co around him.

“The beast easily and ruthlessly took down several of our soldiers as soon as they opened fire on it. And it further still injured many of our knights when we sent them to its cave! It is a mindless, killing machine, and must be exterminated immediately.”

Lance throws his hands up in exasperation. “No shit it’s defending itself! What do you expect it to do, stand there while you shoot at it?”

“If it didn’t want to be shot it shouldn’t have ventured into the city in the first place!”

“It’s an animal! How the hell is it supposed to understand city limits and boundaries?”

“That’s not my problem,” the dignitary says coldly. “It has posed a threat to our people, and so it must die. And if Voltron wishes for our signature in the Coalition, you will come to our aid, or else you can count yourself down one planet’s alliance.”

Allura stiffens. “You would really risk your people’s protection over a difference in opinion?”

“Your blue paladin —”

“I am not the blue paladin, you brainless amoeba —”

“Your blue paladin,” the dignitary repeats, pointedly and icily, “has insulted us greatly. The situation is no longer up for debate. If you wish to sign an alliance, the paladin must handle the problem himself. That is our final stipulation.”

With that, the dignitary ends the call, cutting off Shiro’s pleas for him to wait.

All eyes turn to Lance.

“I am not killing an innocent animal,” Lance snaps. “Forget it.”

Keith sighs. “Lance —”

“No.” Lance clenches his fists, glaring at his team, chin raised and shoulders set. Beside him, Mr. Snuggles spreads his fangs and hisses. The mice — currently resting on his head — scramble to their feet, presumably also tensing up. Ivy — a venomous vine he picked up on a planet a few missions back — winds up his arms. “I am not just being ridiculous. You heard that idiot. They’re provoking it. It’s not doing anything wrong.”

“Lance —” Keith tries again, but Lance is not willing to hear it.

“I will not take an innocent life to buy an alliance. And if you do, I swear to God, I will never forgive you.”

With that he stomps out of the bridge, ignoring the dozens of calls of his name and pleas to “wait a goddamn second, Lance, c’mon.”

Lance stomps all the way to his room, muttering about stupid careless dignitaries and team members who won’t listen to him and how everyone is going to make him grey early and he is not Shiro, lord above, so he can’t pull that garbage off. Ugh.

He slams his door behind him and flops on the bed, and is marginally surprised to find his tears stinging his eyes.

“This is a stupid reason to cry,” he announces to no one, voice muffled in his pillow. “Why must I cry about stupid things. Why can’t I cry about regular things. This is dumb.”

There’s a clicking sound accompanying a gentle bump to the leg hanging off his bed. He drags his head off the pillow, sniffling, to see Mr. Snuggles sitting to the side of his bed, fangs clicking. The mice sit on his head, as they are wont to do (which, understandably considering the natural predator of mice, used to scare the shit out of Allura. But Mr. Snuggles has never been anything but gentle with them, even when they roughhouse on his back or play tag under his leg and accidentally trip him. He seems to be quite protective of them, actually. It’s very sweet. Lance thinks it might be a microhylid frog-giant tarantula situation, even though Mr. Snuggles can’t lay eggs, and it amuses him greatly). Ivy uncoils from his bed frame, wrapping a vine around his ankle and tugging carefully. Blue and Red both loudly mother him in the back of his mind.

It’s nice.

Lance sighs, wiping his tears and sitting up against his headboard.

“This sucks,” he says to his assortment of companions, all who seem to agree with him. Mr. Snuggles and the mice crawl up the leg of the bed to sit in front of him, and Ivy makes her way around his shoulders.

None of them can talk to him, obviously — how fucking cool would that be, though — but each one of them is an excellent listener (even the mice, who like to gossip, but Lance preemptively forgives them).

“It’s just —” Lance huffs, frustrated. “I get that the planet is probably tired of being lightly terrorized by a giant beast, sure, but is murder really the answer? Plus, have they even tried talking to it? Maybe it’s very reasonable! I’m sure I —”

Lance shoots up, startling poor Ivy, but holy shit.

Holy shit!

“That’s it!” he shouts, grin nearly splitting his face in two. He leans over, just barely managing to grab his holopad, and starts sketching out the plans.

“Now if I just — and it shouldn’t be too hard — I’ve done more in less time — hell yeah!”

He’s startled out of his fervour by urgent squeaks, and when he looks up, he sees the mice waving to get his attention.

“Yes?”

At his acknowledgement, they scurry into formation, laying together to make a question mark with their little bodies.

Lance snorts. He may not be able to speak their language, but they have no problems making themselves clear.

“I can’t tell you,” he scolds, “you’re going to snitch to Allura.”

They mice squeak sadly, but Lance knows better. Last time he gave in to them, Allura knew within the minute.

“I’ll be back soon, okay? Don’t wait up for me. Platt, Chulatt, Plachu, Chuchule — there’s some of that fancy grain you like in the cupboard. Mr. Snuggles — here.” He opens up space youtube, quickly opening up a horror movie reaction compilation for the fear demon. “That’ll keep you fed for a bit.” He props the holopad up on his pillow, scrambling to his feet and heading to the door. On the way out, he pulls the string on his special blue sun lamp — “That’s for you, Ivy!” — and then he’s out the door, plans in hand, to find Coran.

Luckily for Lance, he runs straight into him.

“Lance, dear, I was just coming to look for you,” Coran says, right outside his door.

Lance grins. “I can see that.”

Coran narrows his eyes. “You’re… remarkably chipper, Number Four.”

“Mhm.”

He holds up a hand for Coran to pause. He strains his ears, and smirks as he just barely picks up on the sound of near-silent footsteps behind a closed door. He makes pointed eye contact with the advisor, then inclines his head at Keith’s door.

Coran gets the point.

“Well, if you’re really feeling so much better,” Coran says loudly — too loudly, but Lance doesn’t have much in the subtlety department either, so he can’t complain — “would you mind helping me recalibrate the fabricator?”

“Absolutely,” Lance says, dragging the advisor by the hand in the opposite direction of the fabricator.

“Will you speak plainly, now?” Coran asks, once they’ve put some distance between them and Keith’s eavesdropping ass. (That is, however, probably an unfair reaction. Keith was likely listening in to try and find a way to help, in his own awkward way. If Lance wasn’t currently feeling just a smidge betrayed, he would feel touched.)

“Okay, so. I have a Plan.” Lance puts emphasis on the word so Coran knows it’s Capitalized, because this isn’t just a regular plan. This is a rescue mission. It’s espionage. A heist, even.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes!”

Coran sighs, dragging a hand down his face.

“Lance,” he says warningly, but Lance won’t hear it.

“C’mon, Coran! You trust me, right?”

“That is a manipulative question —”

“You trust me! You said so yourself!”

“Fine, child. Yes, I trust you.”

Lance claps his hands together. “Excellent! So. I refuse to be a murderer, as you may have heard.”

“That would have been very hard for me to miss,” Coran says drily.

Lance gracefully ignores the comment. “And since I will also go apeshit if anyone else becomes a murderer, I have come up with a plan!”

“Lance. Number Four. My dear. Time is not our current luxury. Please share your plan.”

“Right. Okay.” Lance rocks back on his heels, shooting Coran a guileless smile. “How well do you think you can imitate my mannerisms?”

———

part two

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sanjisluvbot · 1 year

Text

Spending time with Yandere Strawhats x Black Fem reader

AN: Hello and welcome new readers, this is slightly a part three to my Isekai series and as I publish this I am thinking about creating separate fics for each of the characters below. If you want to be on a tag list I’ll add you 🫶🏽🫵🏽

MINI SPOILERS BTW

Luffy was the main source of light for your adventure. You hung out with him mostly in the middle of the day when the sun was at its peak. Other times it’s at the end of the day just before Sanji calls you in for the last meal. Those are your favorites, words don’t need to be spoken when you and Luffy are sitting on the head of the Sunny. At least not the words either of you want to hear at the moment. So you both sit in silence enjoying the false sense of bliss.

Luffy sits next to you in all meals, since you’re the favorite, he wouldn’t dare steal food from you.. most of the time of course. The first mate will always be to the other side of you as well neither taking their gaze off of you as if you were nothing but prey.

When you’re all on islands only few are assigned to take care of you and watch you. Nami, Robin, Zoro, Sanji and Jimbei, the rest couldn’t be trusted to not fall for you in their naivety.

When you were able to go adventure with Luffy you had more of a chance to escape when he was distracted by surroundings. However that didn’t last long, it was as if he had eyes on the back of his head. He would know exactly where you were hiding no matter what.

You got better at hiding behind a fake smile the more you hung out with Luffy. It was never a pretty sight with any of the crew when you angered them by mentioning your “ home”

Luffy would usually ignore you when you’d talk about home, he didn’t care about the past he just wanted to enjoy the present with all his friends. But those times you got under his skin he made your life a living hell.

Zoro wasn’t one to really welcome most with open arms especially with the way you ended up with the crew.

Zoro was one who put you in edge the most because even having one eye shut the man’s gaze makes one fully understand that if he wanted to he would end your life.

However that barley lasted a full week, after he found out you both had a love for drinking he made it a mission to get under your skin in the best ways he could. Always checking up on you, rescuing you when you’re in danger, wanting to play drinking games after dinner, and napping on the deck with him on warm days.

On new islands you would go pair off with Zoro, in order to fall into the shadows and disappear from the strawhat crew forever. However, Zoro was resilient, he always held your hand and never took that menacing eye away for more than a second.

You’ve tried to reason with him once when you both were drunk off your asses in the aquarium. “ I want to ask you something.. Zoro” with a heavy sigh he turned to face you from his spot on the floor. “ Why do you like to bother me when we are like this? You’re gonna ruin a good time”

His gaze was so intense making you gulp and turn away while his eye burned into your skull. It’s very unfortunate that this man is so attractive. “ I know it’s a lot to ask but-” “ Then don’t ask me I don’t have an answer to satisfy you y/n” you could tell when he was really inebriated, his hard exterior was down and he spoke to you with such a soft voice.

You and Nami spent most of your time together in her office. You liked to write and paint and she had tons of paper and ink.

Tanning on the Sunny was an essential it felt like you had a real girlfriend, you did your spa days together and talked about anything to come to mind. Sharing baths always made you blush since she would take the time to pamper you and scrub your scalp when it was wash day.

Nami had always been a great actor, that’s how she was able to survive those many years alone and ostracized from her family and friends. Bringing up home around her means waterworks.

It also means being punished by the whole crew because she told everyone you were thinking of an escape.

She loved taking you shopping, you were her little doll she wanted to dress up and take care of. She didn’t want to loose anyone else close to her which is exactly why she would go as far as getting you punished for a few days in order to make sure you can stay with her forever.

Ussop was the one you could relate to the most. You both were very similar in terms of being considered the weakest onboard and among other things.

Spending time with Ussop meant sometimes spending time with Chopper and Luffy playing games and pranks on crew members.

You learned about his garden and eventually started helping him take care of that. He spoke in depth about what he learned over the last two years and how his new seeds worked.

He turned you into a little inventor, bringing you under his wing and you were willing to learn anything and everything. You almost felt bad knowing the real reason you wanted to learn from him.

Sanji was enamored with you to the fullest extent. He is usually head over heels for anything that walks his way with boobs but you, you sparked something in him.

Spending time with Sanji meant you didn’t have to lift a finger because he waited on you hand and foot.

Sanji loved to have you perched on his side when he was cooking so you can taste everything and stroke his ego. He was such a charmer and you both got along so well since it was obvious you both had a soft spot for one another.

One islands like water seven you would pair off with him and go and explore the city and help him buy groceries. This is one of the main reasons out of all the Yandere Strawhats Sanji is the most obsessed. To him, those times were dates and godforbid something happened to you or you decided to leave him he would spiral.

When you used to talk about going home or one of the other crew members would tell him about things you been doing ( escape attempts ) he would get so angry his eyebrow going from left to right. This would cause Zoro and him to fight more often due to him wanting to take his anger out on anything.

Robin was the main one to keep you on your toes. Her eyes always let you know when to stop talking.

Spending time with Robin meant you were able to read a variety of books and inhaling knowledge just as she does. When you looked at books that resembles your situation she was always over your shoulder or had an eye pop up somewhere on your body.

“ Interesting book there y/n would you let me read it when your done?” Her smile never fully reached her eyes on most occasions which always left you drenched in a cold sweat because you knew.

You knew that escaping with someone like Robin on the crew was more than difficult, but you pushed that past you when you hung out. Sanji would bring tea and treats to the library and there would be soft music playing in the background.

Robin was serenity when you ignored the silent threats.

Spending time with the whole crew was usually meal times or when you had important business on an island.

Everyone bounced off each others conversations they truly stuck together like glue which is the main reason you’ve been with them so long.

No matter what the conversations always gravitated towards you. Each sharing their stories of time you spent together or future plans they had with you. Some of which you hadn’t even agreed to ( yet ).

It is hard to escape from a crew that you already ran away from once, they’d be damned if they let it happen twice.

#zoro x black reader #x black fem reader #platonic yandere #yandere strawhats #mugiwara crew #luffy x black reader #ussop x reader #one piece x reader #Nami x black fem reader #nico robin #Nico Robin x black fem reader #sanji x black reader #one piece headcanons #straw hat pirates

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intermundia · 23 days

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idk how many of you guys are watching the bad batch, but i just wanted to write an open letter of recommendation begging people to give it a try. i admit the first time i tried to watch it, i quit after a few episodes as uninterested. i'm not a big found family adventure kid show person, i had trouble getting into the first season of rebels as well for similar reasons. however, i tried again and fuck am i glad that i did. you have to have the first season to fall in love with the characters and build the depth of the relationships, so when the breaks bad later, it really fucking matters and hurts. the scope of the show unfolds like a flower into the whole of the empire. it has just transcended itself and built up to a third season that actually rivals andor in richness and commentary to me except it's children in prison and hunted down. the animation is sublime, the huge environments and the light and smoke and grit of everything, the aliens and cities and planets, to me it is a strong argument in favor of animation being the ideal storytelling medium for star wars. the action grabs you and holds you, the combat is captivating and tense. the plot delves into the empire and the force in such a fascinating way, like we are actually getting the linking material between phantom menace's mention of midichlorians and the survival of the emperor into the future of the sequels. there are cameos from old beloved characters, but they do not distract and do not feel gratuitous, just richly embedded in the tapestry of the galaxy. the bonds of love and betrayal between the clones, brothers fighting brothers, the fate of the clones after the end of the clone wars, it's fascinating and heartbreaking. idk it's just so heartening to me as a fan to know that there is still good star wars being made, like it's everything i wanted it to be and more, and it's not done, so i'm just at the edge of my seat honestly to find out how it will end and i want everyone to know that it's good, so fucking good, im dying, come join me in hell pls

#im losing my mind about it tbh #please i hope everyone else is watching it #tbb #sw

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 8 months

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Could you do—Garten of Banban Characters reacting to WereGator!Reader going through the games events to find their nieces? (Same principle as a Werewolf, just with them being able to turn into an alligator. They can semi-shift sharper claws or more menacing eyes.)

Monsters are secretly intermingled with normal society. They just tend to stay out of sight or hide their otherness to blend in. Cause humans are crazy population wise to them, seriously eight billion?! No lone species wants to get that many humans ticked off/scared of them. Reader was really wary of letting their sister-in-law leave her daughters at the daycare. Sure, it catered to monster kids but something was always a bit off… Weregators have strong nurturing instincts when it comes to their or any family member’s kids. The worry was just brushed away as that being in overdrive…

Reader goes through the various puzzles a bit aggressively (never destroying anything outright but Banban can see them barely controlling their strength/shifts).

Oh I love this!! I'll just be doing 4 characters

.......

Banban

You had your suspicions about letting your nieces get dropped off at the kindergarten during "Bring-A-Friend Day".

Your sister-in-law didn't see the problem. Sure, the place was apparently creating living, breathing mascots and likely violating all moral/ethical codes in doing so...but she thought it was fine.

Lab-bred monsters interacting with the natural monsterkind living quietly in the outside world? Surely nothing could go wrong...

Until it did and you found yourself going to this place to find your two nieces.

They weren't even your own children, though as a weregator your nurturing instincts went into overdrive the moment you heard of their disappearance.

And it's for that reason you'd be....quite aggressive and direct in how you solved the strange puzzles throughout the facility.

Nothing pissed you off more than the drone--as sometimes it refused to cooperate.

You came close to smashing the controller numerous times.

You meet Banban after he tries knocking you out, but he's stunned when you barely flinch and tackle him, eyes turning reptilian, alligator claws growing on your hands, and patches of your skin turning to scales.

And you growl angrily, threatening his very existence.

But since he shares Untham's fascination with monsterkind, he just stares at you like you're some spectacle, totally fearless.

"My, what big claws you have....sorry, bad joke-"

"Shut it, "Banban"." You snarl. "Where are my nieces?! I swear if you did anything to them-"

"I've done nothing to them. In fact, I feel terrible about what's been going on here. And that's why I want to help you find them."

"You do..?" You blink. "Then why did you attack me?"

"It's hard to explain. Sometimes I lose control over myself...I truly am sorry about that. Now could you let me go? I think doing that will benefit both of us."

"...how?"

"I promise I'll help you the whole way. Believe me, I've tried helping others before you, but...they were humans. Held back by fear and lack of physical endurance. You, however, stand a chance. But you'll need some guidance. This place is huge, after all."

You were surprised by his offer, albeit cautious of his intentions.

In the end, you let him go as killing him wasn't gonna bring you anywhere closer to your nieces.

He oversees your journey and helps where he can, although he cringes when you damn near shatter the glass panels when solving certain puzzles or fully shift into your gator form when you're trying to fight of Nabnab....

Or when Banban turns into his "hellish" form and tries attacking you, with you leaving some pretty deep scratches on his skin.

Once he snaps out of it, he's like "omg you're just like me fr, we both have trouble taming the beasts within ourselves-"

You take full offense to that and remind him that you're both nothing alike.

Opila Bird Up

She basically fucked around and found out when she first confronted you.

Her screeches of intimidation turned to shrieks of fear the second you shifted into your gator form, causing her to stumble and fall into the abyss where the ball pit once was.

So for the most part..she left you alone after that.

Even Banban was impressed.

When you put her babies back into their nest, she's at first terrified that you were going to eat them....yet you had no intentions of doing so as you calmly greet her before leaving.

Even though she's been aggressive and instigated your transformation in the first place, you saw her younglings as you would your own.

You'd never think to harm them even though everything here so far has tried to harm you.

And soon a shaky alliance was formed, but only because you two shared the common instinct to protect your kin.

The turning point was when you saved Tarta and Opila from being crushed by Jumbo Josh--you literally held up his fist in your gator form so the couple could flee the fight.

Even he was shocked

That's when Opila knew you were someone who could be trusted to the fullest.

Ya'll know how some species of wading birds have gators as their "bodyguards"?

This is where you and her family are at right now. You'll fight tooth and nail to defend them.

She trusts you with her chicks and knows they're in good hands (or claws, rather).

Your end goal was still finding your nieces, but you'll save whatever children you could along the way. Human or monster or both.

Banbaleena

You weren't inclined to sit in some uncomfortable plastic chair and get schooled by this "teacher".

First she saved you from Opila Bird and now she's basically holding you hostage, confiscating your drone.

At this point you're over it. You're wasting precious time here when your nieces could be in serious trouble.

When Banbaleena threatened to tear you into pieces the next time you're "late", you snap right back at her with "how about I tear you into pieces instead?"

As you say this, you show your claws, scales, and reptilian eyes so she knew exactly what she was dealing with.

Suddenly her strict demeanor goes away and she puts you at the "mean kids" table right away.

You suspected her donor feared monsterkind, a trait that was transferred directly to her, as she keeps stuttering when giving the next lesson and deciding you're correct even if you pressed the "wrong" answer.

She can't even look you in the eye and shakily asks you to be gentle with the tape recorders.

Yet she still calls you a "bad student" for leaving and attempts to give chase, but it doesn't last long and she gives up rather quickly.

She hasn't dealt with anyone who stood up to her and lived to tell the tale.

Especially a weregator.

Bittergiggle

He's not intimidated by you in the slightest.

You could partially-shift or even fully shift into your weregator form and this jester will find ways to make jokes out of it.

Besides stopping you from interfering with his plans to make the queen laugh, his goal is to make you laugh, too.

He knows killing you by himself is no longer feasible so he's gonna be an annoying mf who stalls you with bad jokes.

"What do you call an alligator examining a crime scene? An investi-gator!!"

"What's the difference between a crocodile and an alligator? You'll see one in a while, and you'll see the other later!"

When you don't laugh, it just irritates him a lot and he storms away.

He sets Kittysaurus upon you and is shocked when you manage to subdue her with ease.

Not by letting her ram into the walls over and over, but by throwing her into those walls/buttons yourself.

Never did you think you'd wind up in this situation when all you wanted was answers as to where your nieces went....

But you'll be damned if you let some clown and dino-cat hybrid stop you from finding them.

It's actually quite funny when you come back to the kingdom's throne room and see Bittergiggle throwing an absolute FIT because you once again stopped him from telling his joke to the queen.

And I mean stomping, waving his arms, hitting the floor, etc. Just a full-blown tantrum.

"Wow, even my nieces are more mature than you smh"

#clanask #anonymous #garten of banban x reader #gobb x reader #banban #banbaleena #opila bird #bittergiggle #weregator #lycan reader #monster reader #female reader #headcanons

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iambicpentameterhamster · 1 month

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Every umbrella academy character ranked

Prior to Season 4 coming this year, thought I'd share my character rank with you for the first 3 seasons all together. (Spoilers ahead)

#33- Marcus, Jayme, Alphonso and Fei

Painfully insignificant and underdeveloped. Their only character traits being "spoiled and a bit evil" made them EXTREMELY captivating villians...

#32- Christopher

Only higher because I find the idea of someone carrying around a cube on a stick onset really funny.

#31- Sparrow Ben

Hard to watch honestly, especially in comparison to his lovely counterpart Umbrella Ben.

In general, the Sparrows were terrible and pointless characters, and clearly the writers knew this because most were killed off pretty quickly. All except for Sparrow Ben, which just meant we had to suffer watching him for even longer.

#30- Viktor

This is a controversial choice. He is tolerable in season 1, but then just becomes a moochy emo sod who is boring to watch. I don't know if it's the acting, script or both, but he’s just such a meek and flavourless character who is PARTICULARLY bad in season 3 when he jeopardises his whole family and is repeatedly selfish and has a victim complex.

#29- Luther

He caused the apocalypse in season one and you can't convince me otherwise. Got some alamaba shit going on with Allison...

There are so many reasons I hate Luther. He's a self-centred man child who couldn't care less about his siblings and their feelings, showing zero empathy to Klaus or Vanya, for example. He only shows respect and kindness when he is attracted to the person (As shown when seasons 1 and 2 he is only nice to Allison, then completely ignores her when he moves on to Sloane) or when they pose as an authority figure to him. All he does is whine and feel sorry for himself.

What's that? You lived in the apocalypse all alone for 40 years? You are addicted to drugs and lost the love of your life in a war? You have a power you can't control and a lifetime of rejection? WELL LUTHER WENT TO THE MOON

#28- Carl Cooper

Hated him as a character but he was a menacing villian which I can respect

#27- Harlan

Couldn't care less about him, only there for plot convenience and Victor's arc pretty much

#26- Sloane

An improvement from Luther's literal sibling. Further evidence that Luther will simply fall for any woman who gives a flying fuck about the moon.

Personality: attracted to Luther

#25- Pogo

Basil exposition of the first series

#24- Detective Patch

Barely remember her

#23- The Swedes

They were kind of goofy as villians but there was some good acting and they posed a real threat. Cute moments with the cats. In general, alright, but they could have easily been replaced plot wise with something more interesting.

#22- Cha Cha

Lack of character development for me. I think she deserved to be fleshed out more, I don't think it's fair that only her partner got to be a three-dimensional being. What are her motivations? Who is she underneath it all?

But overall i liked the acting and she was a good villian.

#21- That hotel worker from season 3

He's barely a character but I liked his sass so he's on the list.

#20- Reggie (Reginald Hargreeves)

He is supposed to be the main antagonist/villian of the show, yet The Handler stole his spotlight. He's a bit too stereotypically evil and asshole-ish for me, basically twiddling his moustache and stroking a cat in a dark corner the entire show. The delivery is too blunt and that doesn't help to build the tension and mystery surrounding him as much, but if he were more complicated and cryptic in his personality it would be more effective.

This is very nit picky and overall Reggie is fine. He has some hilarious moments with Klaus in season 3 and I am genuinely intrigued about the unanswered questions surrounding him.

#19- Elliott

He wasn't a particularly important or central character but I enjoyed it when he was on screen and he played his role convincingly. He was a good comic relief in some scenes, and when he died (spoiler alert) the reactions from other characters were realistic and quite impactful. I felt for him throughout, which is impressive for less significant characters and he had a lot of depth relative to the size of his role.

#18- Destiny's children

Not a singular character, but I LOVED Destiny's children. It fit Klaus's character perfectly to have a cult and led to some of the funnies moments in the series.

#17- Dave

From the very limited moments we see with this character, a lot of personality and emotion was communicated, and I feel like we got a big sense of the character. That is down to the brilliant acting from both of Dave's actors and from Robert Sheehan that really sold this character with so little screen time.

Anyway please come back to life Dave! Death doesn't look good on you!

#16- Agnes (Donut woman)

Very sweet and I wish her all the best in life.

#15- Sissy

BRILLIANTLY acted and impactful. Stole every scene between her and Vanya.

Also, she looks EXACTLY like Sheldon's mum in young sheldon...

#14- Herb and Dot

I want to put them both in my pocket and protect them from harm.

#13- Kenny's mum

Again, barely present but I love her. She's a queen. I would go to a rave with Kenny's Mum.

#12- Stan

I love Stan, and he's a big part of Diego and Lila's character development and motivations. I hope they adopt Stan and live happily ever after.

But yeah, great one-liners from Stan.

#11- Grace

Very well acted and haunting.

Top 10 *drumroll please*

#10- Harold Jenkins (Lenoard Peabody)

Again, quite a controversial placement, but I stand by my decision. The acting and delivery of Harold Jenkins as a villain is possibly the best in the whole show. I was totally convinced Lenoard was a nice guy and I was rooting for him and Vanya, until he started dropping hints and slowly revealing his true self and losing the facade and its... it's chefs kiss. So realistic. The actor deserves an award and a standing ovation.

The writers also deserve a pat on the back for this one because he has a convincing motivation and backstory, and the dialogue is DELICIOUS when it comes to Lenoard. He is a truly menacing villain without being overtly scary and powerful and dangerous.

#9- Ray

Charismatic, gentlemanly, empathetic, loving, trusting, supportive... Ray is THE IDEAL MAN. I'm a little bit in love with Ray so I don't blame Allison.

HUGE step up from Luther, for sure.

#8- Umbrella Ben

I would have liked to see more of his character, but I liked what I did see. He loves his siblings and shows it. He is selfless and sacrifices his own existence for Vanya, he is blunt with Klaus because he cares and wants him to improve. Of course, he and Klaus are also a hilarious duo.

#7- Hazel

One of the most touching arcs that offers an insightful message about what life is for, and about Love. Beautifully acted, a very real and lovable character who probably resonates with many in some ways. Hazel is adorable and i miss him in later seasons.

#6- The Handler

I LOVE THE HANDLER MORE THAN WORDS CAN EXPLAIN!!! Funny, playful, entertaining, uexpected and whimsical and yet simultaneously dark and menacing, AMAZING villian that stole EVERY SINGLE SCENE she was in. Kate Walsh was the perfect choice for the role and she played it to perfection.

A bit of trivia about the role, The Handler was originally written for a man, and when Kate Walsh got the role she insisted they didn't change the script (which, let's be honest, they would have.) She put a wonderful spin on it and it's just perfect, I wouldn't change a thing. I would 100% watch a spinoff all about the handler. Season 3 was worse than the previous two thanks to them killing her off (amongst other questionable plot choices)

#5- Allison

Allison was the only character who knew what they were doing, and honestly, if everyone just listened to Allison, there would be no apocalypse. Her storyline losing both Claire and Ray and her powers driving her crazy with power breaks my heart but is well portrayed and impactful.

She's charismatic, clever, strong, and kind. I love Allison and I think most of us do.

#4- Diego

He's stupid but in an endearing way, I find him to be so entertaining and funny, and the actor's face is like an open book. He's not show-stopping but his consistent presence just sets the mood and allows others to act off of him, while he really sells it with his expressions. He's like the rock of the show.

#3- Lila

Lila. Mi amor. Mon amour. Amore mio. Meine Leibe.

#2- Five

For several reasons:

A) He is the daddy here, Luther!!

B) That should be the only reason you need

Seriously, though, I was SUPER impressed with Aidan Gallagher and his incredible screen presence, especially at such a young age. He really embodies the character. Five is the face of the Umbrella Acadamy, and is undoubtedly the most iconic character. 10/10, two thumbs up, absolutely BRILLIANT.

#1- Klaus

No justification necessary.

#the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #five hargreeves #reginald hargreeves #allison hargreeves #lila pitts #ben hargreeves #luther hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #raymond chestnut #the handler #the sparrow academy

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portaltothevoid · 5 months

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God Called In Sick Today — Chapters 1 & 2

Summary: It’s the ghafia fic you didn’t know you needed… When a mission goes south, Copia is left scrambling to figure out a plan to get the mayor-to-be in favor of the Emeritus family. That’s where Arianna Diodati, the Mafia Princess of his (very Catholic) rival, comes in. He plans to use her as a bargaining chip to get what he wants. Did he place the right bet or did he take more than he bargained for?

Word count: 5.8k ~//~ Warnings: mafia au, copia x oc, death/murder, gun usage, angst, physically and verbally abusive relationship, domestic violence (between oc x oc), (brief, almost subtle) dacryphilia, kidnapping, dark copia, cliffhanger, enemies to lovers, slow burn

A/N: Surprise! It's a double feature! Fair warning, the next chapters won’t be up til I have a few under my belt so that they can be posted regularly and since I’m still working on You’re Losing Me as well… it might be a while. But I am so so excited for this, that I had to give you all a taste! Massive, massive thank you to @fishwithtitz @da-rulah and @copias-juicebox for beta reading and listening to me talk about this non-stop as I worked out the plot 🖤(photos in mood board all found on pintrest and dividers by @gothdaddyissues!)

Chapter One -- The Sermon and The Plan

It was never a good sign when Papa Emeritus IV demanded a mandatory mass that wasn’t on Sunday. Usually, meetings such as this would be for the upper echelon of the clergy and the Ghouls, but this time around, every single member of the Satan’s Ministry was in attendance. No one dared speak or even look away from their Papa as he stood, eyeing everyone in the room like the disappointed father he was.

Those in the front row could hear his leather gloves squeak against the oak of the pulpit as he gripped it like a stress ball. His unique set of eyes, one green and one white, focused on one specific Ghoul. His expression darkened like an approaching storm, which made for his already intimidating skull-painted face to become menacing. As for the Ghoul, if it weren’t for the silver-horned mask covering his face, even Papa would have seen the beads of sweat dripping down the sides of it. He knew he was the reason everyone was here and why Papa looked beyond furious. He knew it the moment he saw the blue and red flashing lights at the docks.

“As most of you know,” the Satanic pope began, “our latest operation was thwarted by carelessness. All of you deserve to know why, but first, it isn’t a true Mass without a sermon, hm?”

He clasped his hands behind his back as he turned to walk to his right, addressing those in the pews in front of him. “Pride and greed. Two sins that often go hand in hand. Sins which we celebrate here. It seems I need to remind you all that the celebration of sin, any sin, does not give one a free pass to do whatever the fuck they want, eh?”

He turned again, to walk to the other side of the sanctuary. “Every coin has two sides. At what point does living in sin, celebrating sins, become a hindrance?

“Pride. An excessive belief in one’s abilities. Pride can make one think they are untouchable. Pride is the sin that pushes us to achieve greatness not just in the name of Satan, but for ourselves. And there, we find greed. A desire for wealth, for gain. But, again I ask you all, when does celebrating these glorious sins become a hindrance?”

Now, he was in front of the pulpit. Leaning against it was a cane, something he only brought out for show or to inflict pain. While he was addressing everyone, his dichromatic eyes landed on the trembling Ghoul in the center. “Excessive or grandiose sinning becomes a deterrent when it puts the lives of others at risk, when it puts an institution, a family, that you’ve devoted your life to at risk.” Grabbing the cobra head handle, Papa gracefully jumped down to walk in front of the first row. “Many of you are aware of a mission we set out on recently. A mission to save helpless women and children from a sex-trafficking ring. There also was to be an exchange of money. These degenerates were exchanging quite a large sum of money for this transaction. Those prisoners were denied the choice of freedom we offer here. We were denied what was to be used as payment to put the malleable Gregory Osorio in our corner. We have very little time to come up with this sum to get a powerful, up and coming politician in our corner. One who could turn votes in our favor. One who would look out for us. One who would defiantly oppose the Diodati dickheads.

“This mission was not successful. By the time our Ghouls arrived, the prisoners were ‘rescued’ by the police. The money – that should have been ours – confiscated. I know many have wondered how this could have happened. Well, children, the answer is simple.

“Pride… and greed…” he spoke slowly, as he walked down the center aisle, dragging his cane along the ends of the pews. “Someone felt too secure in themselves… Felt they could just… open their fucking mouth to anyone who would fucking listen… while not realizing… They were fraternizing with an informant for the enemy.” He paused his promenade. “This was not a simple mistake. This was blatant negligence from someone who I know, for a fact, knew better. This Ghoul broke our Sacramentum Secreti (Oath of Secrecy).” He began walking again. His cane hit a pew with every word. “Internal problems will be dealt with.”

He stopped. Everyone turned to look at Papa, except for one Ghoul. Papa reached over, using the tip of his cane to force him to look at his figurehead, his boss. With a look that could kill and a wave of his hand, he indicated the Ghoul to walk in front of him back up to the sanctuary.

After twenty paces, “Ghoul, you seem to be limping. I wonder why that is… Is it because your pain and suffering is a message from La Famiglia Diodati?” he remarked snidely.

When Papa planted himself behind the pulpit, he pointed the cane to indicate a spot on the ground. “Kneel,” he commanded. On shaky legs, the Ghoul did as he was told.

Papa dragged his gaze up to the choir loft before him, where one of his best Ghouls was waiting for the signal. Painstakingly slow, he looked back at the insurrectionist. “Per aspera, ad inferi,” he prayed. Again, he made eye contact with the one in the choir loft, giving a solitary nod.

In the blink of an eye, the Ghoul to Papa’s right jolted back slightly, a red dot forming in the center of his forehead. As deep burgundy liquid dripped from it, the congregation gasped, and the Ghoul toppled forward onto his masked face with a deafening thud.

Papa bowed his head, but his eyes passed over everyone clutching their rosary beads in front of him. Somehow, this look was more sinister than it was at the start. “Let it be known that internal problems will be dealt with,” he paused dramatically, “by whatever means necessary.”

And with that, he turned heel and left through the back door, concluding mass.

“Do we really need Osorio this time around? Putting our efforts into driving back the Diodatis would be more beneficial,” Secondo, the second oldest Emeritus, argued. The highest members of the clergy and of the Emeritus family were gathered in their meeting room reserved for familial “business” matters.

A leather clad fist slammed on the dark cherry wood table. “And what the fuck do you think getting Osorio on our payroll would do?” Papa snapped. Secondo just rolled his eyes in response. “We’re running out of fucking time.”

“There’s that charity gala, or whatever the fuck, tomorrow. I could just use my lascivious charm to reel in Osorio,” Papa’s predecessor and brother, Terzo, waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Papa pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning back in his luxurious leather office chair.

“Copia, he actually–and it pains me to admit this–might be onto something. That gala could be a way in,” the eldest Emeritus agreed as he pressed his elbows into the table, his fingers interlacing in front of him, as he stared down his youngest brother and the church’s current Papa.

Terzo waved his hand and his smirk deepened with Primo proving his idea had some merit.

“We have nothing to give Osorio! The whole point of that mission was to dangle that money in his face,” Copia countered.

“So instead we ask him his price,” Terzo shrugged nonchalantly.

“How many of Sal’s men will be there?”

“I believe just his right-hand, Alessio Fidanza and his fiancée and probably only a handful of his associates,” Primo relayed.

Copia’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of the fiancée. “Isn’t that Sal’s daughter? The prim and proper Mafia princess?”

“Sì.”

“For what it’s worth, my advice as your consigliere would be to attend this gala for recon purposes only. Yes, our time is running out, but we still have time to sway Osorio.” For the first time an older woman, who everyone called Sister Imperator, spoke up. She had been keenly observing Copia’s every move, just as any mother would her son, carefully watching knowing he was especially volatile right now.

“And Sal, what about him? He’ll be there too?” Copia asked, ignoring the woman beside him.

“As far as we know, yes.”

A wicked, devilish smile spread across Copia’s face, exaggerating the black paint reminiscent of a rat’s skull around his mouth.

“No… Copia, what are you thinking?” Sister Imperator asked hesitantly. She knew that look. They all did.

“Oh we’ll get some information. We will find out Osorio’s price and we will get Diodati’s attention.”

“Elaborate, brother,” Secondo said wearily. They knew Copia had just hatched a plan and from the look on his face, it was going to be far from easy.

“Diodati thinks he has the upper hand, sì? We can kill two birds with one stone. Show him who has the power here and get the money from him to pay off Osorio so those Catholic fucks can’t use God as a basis for politics.”

“And how exactly… would we do that? Are we intercepting one of their shipments or–” Sister Imperator began to ask hesitantly until she was cut off.

“It’s simple,” Copia stated. He leaned back in his chair casually this time, his elbows perched on the chair’s arm rests. He waved his hands in front him as if he was presenting a physical idea. “We kidnap la Principessa di Dio.”

Chapter Two -- You Should Be Scared

The last thing Arianna Diodati wanted to do was attend some pompous charity event chained to her fiancé wearing a designer dress she hated and a fake smile. She thanked God that she didn’t have to endure the after parties; she could retreat to solitude and her husband-to-be could do whatever (and most likely whomever) he wanted there. Not knowing what happened at those parties used to ruminate in her mind like a catchy pop song… until she actually found out.

The infidelity bothered her at first, caused her to lose sleep at night, and question her worth. She used to be confrontational. She used to stick up for herself. She used to care. Arianna learned the hard way that Alessio Fidanza never actually wanted her or truly loved her. Maybe at first he did, but as time marched on, she came to realize the only thing he cared about was having an in with the most illustrious mafia family in New York City. The closer he got to her, the closer he got to Arianna’s father aka the boss of the Diodati family, and the higher up in the ranks he rose, the less he paid her any attention – or respect. In less than a handful of years Alessio was promoted as Salvatore Diodati’s right hand man. He learned the ropes, got enough blood on his hands, and eventually helped call the shots. She was used to her father dictating her life, but now, finding herself under the thumb of another man? There were only two things she could do: watch her life pass her by from behind barred windows and pray to God someone would eventually notice (and care enough about) her imprisonment to save her.

Nevertheless, she admired herself in the mirror; for once, she wore a dress that made her feel confident. Her black cherry red curls cascaded around her face. For a moment, she could see a sparkle, or a glimmer of hope, returning in her hazel eyes as she noted how the asymmetrical dress framed her body perfectly. Satin jersey panels on the two thirds of the dress accentuated her curves as it snaked down the length of it. It draped up, slightly off one shoulder while the other was a simple strap clad with the subtle (yet signature) Versace Medusa emblem. That side of the dress was a simple satin. A slit allowed one of her toned legs to peek through adding an air of sexy sophistication to the look. She was almost smiling until she heard her fiancé behind her.

“You’re wearing that tonight?” And with that snide question, the sparkle in her eye dimmed once more, returning to their usual lackluster shine.

“Um, yes? I showed it to you, remember? You said it would be fine…” she said hesitantly, her voice dancing on eggshells, and her small smile fading.

Alessio scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Do you think I pay attention to half the stuff you show me? If I saw something like that, I would have remembered. Wear the other Versace dress. The one I had Roberta pick up for you.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Specifically for tonight,” he added, his tone proving he had little patience for her tonight.

“But what’s wrong with this one? It’s not like it’s–”

He sprung at her, his nostrils flaring as he gripped her arms tighter than a blood pressure cuff. She fought back the tears that pricked in her eyes. “You look like one of Satan’s whores. Now,” he spoke through gritted teeth, “put on the other dress.” He shoved her back, her arms flew out to find purchase on the dresser beside her so she wouldn’t fall. The few perfume bottles that toppled over made an almost deafening sound amongst the tension. Her breathing was ragged as she glared at him. His look back at her served as a warning.

She never understood how someone who claimed to be so devoted to God could be so evil, but she had to trust God’s plan for her. This all had to serve a purpose, didn’t it?

Her eyes closed as she composed herself, doing her best to stuff down the ever-raging storm of anger that lately seemed to be constantly brewing inside her. “Yes, Alessio. It’s the one still in the garment bag?”

Slowly he rolled his head up to look at the ceiling, before bringing it back to glare at her. “Obviously, you dumb bitch. Hurry up and get fucking changed. I can’t afford to be late tonight because of you,” he spat as he walked out of their room.

Once more, she took a deep shuddering breath, her whole body trembling on the exhale. Stepping out of her preferred dress, she left the almost four thousand dollar garment lying crumpled on the floor.

Now as she looked at herself in the mirror again, she saw a stranger she didn’t even recognize despite the only thing that physically had changed was her dress. She noted how her eyes seemed more hollow. The color in her face had paled. There was nothing but a stranger who once had dreams and ambition staring back at her. None of this felt real.

The worst part of it all was that under any other circumstances, she would have loved wearing this. It was a black viscose material. A slim-fitting, hooded crêpe dress with a plunging V-neckline that was much more revealing than her own choice, but this one had long sleeves and went down to her mid-calf. There was a criss-cross belt also adorned with Versace’s Medusa logo, only this one was more prominent than the one on her choice of dress.

She let out a humorless laugh as she adjusted the long sleeves. All she wanted tonight was to feel confident, to show off some skin, because things had been relatively quiet as of late. Alessio was kept busy, his attention divided elsewhere. For the first time in a while, her arms didn’t look like an abstract painting.

If she had been the one to pick out this dress, her sentiments towards it would have been different. She didn’t want to hide, but this was what Alessio wanted her to wear. There was no way around that unless she wanted to pay the price. Letting out a heavy sigh, she put the hood up. This dress felt like the most high end and lavish prison jumpsuit. No one would know how much it felt like she was wearing shackles, a stark reminder that her choices were never own. But at least tonight she wouldn’t have to come up with a lie to explain the fresh bruises on her arms.

A single tear slid down her face, which she quickly wiped away. With a shake of her head, she put her emotions under lock and key, tucking it away into a dark corner of her mind. She practiced her million dollar smile and nodded to herself, putting her shoulders back and her chest out –a mirage of confidence and happiness– and made her way to the Bentley that was waiting for her.

No matter the formal event, the routine was almost always the same. Arianna would find her father, talk to and dance with who he (or Alessio) told her to, have two strong drinks (but no more than that or else she’d have to deal with a very irate Alessio), fake pleasantries with the other ladies who were just as much a prisoner to this life as she was, then once the crowd began thin, could she retreat. Tonight would be no different. At least, that's what she had assumed.

She greeted her father with a kiss on the cheek. “Arianna, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he father said, ushering over to a man that was just about six or seven years older than her. He looked just like everyone else here like he came from money and would stop at nothing to get more. “Greg, this is my daughter, Arianna. Arianna, this is Gregory Osorio, our soon to be Mayor.”

This Greg guy let out a low whistle as he looked Arianna up and down. “Sal, you weren’t kidding. She is absolutely stunning. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so many things about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” she said with a smile that would never quite reach her eyes.

“Oh, absolutely! Your dress looks like it was made for you. Ah, how do you say it… You look… bellissima!”

“You’re too kind. Alessio convinced me to wear this tonight. I have to give all the credit to him,” she laughed, keeping up the ruse of niceties as Alessio dug his fingers into her side. It was his retaliation for the subtle jab she just made at him, even though these people would never ever know that it was.

“Fidanza, you are a lucky man!”

“I thank God everyday for her,” Alessio said, giving one more bruise-worthy squeeze on Arianna’s waist. He dropped his hand when everyone’s attention snapped towards the door. The group that had just arrived turned heads as they sauntered in.

“Who invited those Emeritus fucks?” Sal snapped.

“Copia put a call in himself to my office about a sizable donation for tonight. I figured if he's willing to be a top donor–perhaps even the top donor tonight–they might as well enjoy some of the festivities, no?” Osorio responded cautiously. “If you’ll excuse me, Sal…”

They exchanged nods as Gregory meandered through the crowd. Sal snapped his fingers. “I want eyes on them. They’re fucking up to something. Never once have they given a shit about things like this.”

“On it, boss,” one of his men said before he disappeared amongst the throng of people.

Arianna never liked the Emeritus family. In fact, she borderline hated them with their menacingly painted faces and blasphemous way of life. She never quite understood how they rose to rival that of her family. Perhaps they really did make a deal with the devil.

“I’m going to grab a drink,” she said quietly. Alessio just waved her off, her father already in a passionate discussion regarding something she couldn’t care less about.

She made her way to the bar, getting the attention of one of the bartenders. “Your usual, Ms. Diodati?”

“Yes, please,” she smiled.

It wasn’t long until she felt a pair of eyes on her from the other end of the bar. She looked up to see Copia, the ringleader of the Satanic circus, staring her down like a hunter watching its prey. It sent a shiver down her spine, but all he saw was the scowl that encapsulated her face. That only made him smirk at her.

She rolled her eyes in disgust, looking away from him. Out of the corner of her eye, though, when she knew his attention was back on someone that wasn’t her, she couldn’t help herself from taking in his appearance. She hated to admit, he looked… elegant. His burgundy pants were impossibly tight in all the right ways. It pained her to acknowledge the way they perfectly hugged his thighs. He had foregone his suit jacket, leaving just his matching burgundy vest and black dress shirt and tie. His sleeves were rolled up and she could see his muscles flex as he grabbed his drink.

Her eyes lingered for a few seconds too long. This time, he caught her watching him. His mouth curled up again into a sly half-smile as he took a drink. His dichromatic eyes never left her. The instant her drink hit the counter, she brought it to her lips and weaved her way through everyone back to Alessio in hopes of putting distance between her and whatever exchange had just taken place.

Shortly after she resumed her role as the token arm candy she was, did her father tense up when a leather clad hand slapped his shoulder. “Salvatore! Come stai (how are you)?”

“Copia,” he greeted stiffly. “To what do we owe this… surprise?” The words rolled off his tongue as if they made his skin crawl.

“Can’t a man just be willing to support a good cause such as this?”

Sal’s only response was to purse his lips. Copia was reveling in the fact that just his presence alone was getting under his enemy’s skin. “Say, Copia, did you hear about the girls that were rescued from trafficking by the docks the other day?” A condescending smirk now replaced the sour look on his face.

Copia’s eyes darkening was the only acknowledgement of Sal’s jab he let slip. “Ah, yes, thank the Gods below they’ve been transferred from one prison to another, being treated as criminals instead of victims.”

“Well, a whore contained is better than a whore on the street.”

Copia laughed sneeringly. “Ah, and I’m sure by whore, you mean a two-bit one. Tell me, though, what are the plans after this? Anyone escorting you to the after party?” he smirked as it was Sal’s turn for his expression to darken.

Arianna didn’t realize she was watching this with bated breath, or that she was clinging to Alessio until he shook her off him. Copia's eyes immediately darted to Arianna’s fiancé breaking free of her almost death grip to take a step towards him. “You know, since you’re here, a thanks is in order,” Alessio said cunningly. “Those girls couldn’t have been saved without the helpful information one of your soldiers let slide right off his tongue. I’ve gotta say, that was a lucky group of girls.”

“Life’s just a game of luck, isn’t it?” Sal chimed in with a shrewd smile directed at Copia.

“And I thank you as well, gentlemen, for helping me shed some dead weight.” The tenison grew thick as the flames of their rivalry were fanned with each remark. “But, a real man makes his own luck.” He casted a quick astute glance with an accompanying nod to Sal before he turned to directly face Arianna. “Perdonami,” he murmured gently, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “Arianna, e come stai stasera, principessa (and how are you tonight, princess)?”

Her heart thumped wildly against her sternum and her eyes flashed nervously over to Alessio. She knew somehow this man’s unprompted actions would be her fault. Both men noted immediately how her body stiffened. One was amused by her fear while the other felt a pang of pity. “Bene, grazie (good, thank you),” she piped up meekly.

“Would it be alright if I stole la bella donna (the beautiful woman) for just one dance?” he asked the two men beside him, only taking his eyes off Arianna for a mere second.

Giving Alessio a slap on the back, “She’s practically yours now, son. That’s your call to make,” her father laughed as he walked off towards the bar.

Arianna widened her eyes, begging Alessio to say no. Rolling his lips between his teeth as he pondered his decision quickly. He nodded, another sly smile curling the edges of his mouth. “One song wouldn’t hurt, eh? Careful though, she’s a pistol. Hope you can handle her. Lord knows some days I barely can.”

Copia laughed dryly. “I think someone of my stature knows how to handle one of those quite well,” he challenged, ushering Arianna away quickly.

Alessio reached out and grabbed her by the arm, just like he had earlier, turning her towards him. She inhaled sharply through gritted teeth at the pain as he had constricted her already tender bruises. “I’ll be waiting by the bar for you,” he hummed as his eyes flicked back and forth between Arianna and her new dance partner, before they lingered on her. She knew that look on his face. It was another warning. Without a sound, he let go of her, and followed the path of her father.

Copia’s arm snaked around her waist. He made it a point to do it gingerly, but that did nothing to calm her rattling nerves. “You’re trembling, cara,” he noted quietly, turning to face her, placing a hand on her hip on the same spot Alessio’s fingers left painful imprints. Her eyes fluttered shut when she involuntarily shied away from him. He eyed her curiously as he switched hands, placing one on her opposite hip and taking her hand in his other. She never quite understood the random ballroom dancing that happened at some of these parties.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

A sinister laugh quietly bubbled from him as he leaned to whisper in her ear, “You really should be.”

“And why’s that?” she challenged as they stepped in time together. Unsure of how, or why, but she could feel some of her old fire ignite inside her.

“Now, now, if I answered that it would ruin the surprise.”

She spoke in a way so her lips didn’t move, but Copia could understand her muffled words perfectly: “My father has eyes on you, you know.” This came off as more of a warning of caution than a threat.

“I’d expect nothing less from him. The real question is, does he have eyes on you?”

“I highly doubt it. I’ve proven to him I’ve learned from my rebellious ways,” she scoffed.

“Oh?”

“The consequences aren’t worth the… It serves no purpose anymore.”

After a few beats of silence, Copia asked, “Why do you let them treat you like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like they own you.”

For the first time since their dance began, she looked directly into his two-toned irises. Her breath hitched. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone, never mind a practical stranger, had even acknowledged her feelings or that she might have any at all. Her life wasn’t her own; it was already planned out. She could picture her life with Alessio as if she already lived. It’s mostly the reason she had become a shell, a carbon copy of herself. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a tall cliffside with no one to pull her back and no one who noticed, or even cared… So why was her father’s sworn enemy acting as if he did? And why in God’s name did it make her stomach flip and her heart flutter? “Because they do,” she finally managed to say through barely parted lips.

As the song ended, Copia regarded her with a smug, yet sympathetic look. He stepped towards her, pressing his body against hers, bringing his forehead down to hers. Standing there frozen, there was nothing she was able to do except stare into the most intriguing pair of eyes she’d ever seen. “Il mio agnellino (my little lamb)…” he purred. A devilish smile creeped onto his face. “I’ll see you soon.”

He abruptly left her standing there like a deer in headlights with her heart hammering in chest, and disappeared into the crowd. She sucked in a deep, ragged breath as she looked around checking to see if there were any witnesses to what just happened.

That man was evil. She knew this. He was ruthless. He worshiped the devil. He was the enemy.

And yet, what terrified her the most wasn’t his veiled threats, but her reaction to them. There was an allure to him, an air of mystique. Someone heard her faint cries for freedom… She shook it off and went to find Alessio, fearing what he would do if she waited any longer.

Arianna caught his eye as she walked up to him leaning against the bar, alone. He knocked back the remainder of his drink and forcefully grabbed her wrist, dragging her out to a deserted hallway. Not a single person batted an eyelash as they rushed past.

Once he assumed they were completely by themselves, he forced her up against the wall. Her back stinging in protest as the coolness of the concrete seeped into her skin. Unbeknownst to the nowhere-near-happy couple, Copia and his ghouls were waiting in a nearby room. Every part of his plan was falling in place like dominos.

“Alessio wh–” Arianna started to question, but was cut off by Alessio slamming his fist on the wall right next to her head.

While he now had her caged in, he pointed a finger in her face. “What the fuck was that about? You fucking wanted to dance with that vermin?”

She stared at him in horror. Even though she knew he would pull this card, it never made it easier any time it happened. “What are you talking about?! Did you miss the look I gave you? I wanted nothing to do with him! I wanted you to say the ‘no’ that I couldn’t!”

“You wanted–” he scoffed. “You wanted me to say no? Since when do I make your decisions for you?”

“Only every fucking day of my life!” she spat back at him, seething. Though he embodies sin and everything unholy, when Copia switched the hands on her hips, when he noted her fear… Those actions, so subtle, spoke volumes. She was reminded of what it means when a person has compassion, empathy, and even a trace of humanity inside them. If she ever experienced that with Alessio it had long be wiped from her memory, overridden by every terrible thing he had done to her and put her through.

The rage that erupted from him, the hatred that bled from his eyes, haunted her nightmares. Instantly after the words left her mouth, her whole body tensed. When the blow from his hand landed across her face, she didn’t even have time to react before he gripped her arms again, somehow even harder than the two previous times.

“You think you can just go dance with another man without looking like one of the devil’s whores? Maybe I should have let you wear that dress, since here you are, being one instead of just looking like one.” He shook her as he berated her.

“Alessio, please, you’re hurting me,” she whimpered, tears streaming down her face as her fiancé screamed at her. His voice drowned out from the thumping music and the raucous party-goers in the other room.

“You little fucking cunt, if it wasn’t for your father I would have left your pathetic ass years ago,” he snarled through his teeth just before he tossed her to the ground like a rag doll. “Get the fuck home. I don’t want to deal with this right now. And you better think of a good way to make this up to me…” he warned before he cracked his neck, fixed his shirt cuffs, and sauntered back into the party.

Quietly, she sobbed into the tile floor. Her body was alight in a flame of pain. “Please, God. Please help me. I can’t… I just can’t…”

A hand gently touched her shoulder. She recoiled, flinching, and pressed herself into the wall behind her.

“Oh, Principessa,” Copia tutted. He crouched down in front of her and used his thumb to wipe away her tears. She watched as he brought his hand closer to inspect how they glistened on his leather glove. His eyes bored into hers as he brought his thumb to his mouth, nearly sensually cleaning off her agonized tears with his tongue. Fear coursed through her harder than the adrenaline did when she spoke back to Alessio. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it seems that God called in sick today,” he leaned in closer, hovering over her forebodingly, “and he sent me to handle your prayers,” he cooed disparagingly.

He stepped back from her, offering to help her up. She stared at his hand, her eyes wide with panic. When he waved it to snap her out of her trance, she scrambled to her feet. Automatically fearing supposed repercussions.

“How much… how much of that did you hear?” she whispered.

“All of it.” With a snap of his fingers two ghouls appeared, seemingly out of nowhere from Arianna’s perspective, and grabbed her arms. Their grip firm, but it wasn’t lost on her how they somehow managed to avoid touching where Alessio had hurt her.

“Wh-what are you doing? Let me go. Let go of me!” she cried out, feebly attempting to wriggle from the ghouls’ grasps.

Copia stepped forward, taking her face in his hands. His thumbs stroked her cheeks. With his face inches from hers, that diabolical smile reappeared. “I’m sorry about that too, but I can’t allow that. You see, il mio agnellino, you won’t be going home tonight.” He snaked his hands down from her face and along her neck before he leaned in so close to her, his breath tickled her ear. The way his lips moved against her skin sent shivers down her spine. “I told you. You should be scared of me.”

As he backed away from her, a third ghoul put a cloth over her mouth. Her screams were muffled as she tried to thrash and escape from her captors. Soon, her movements slowed and her vision blurred. The last thing she remembered seeing was that haunting pair of eyes, one green and one white, watching her with a smirk that rivaled that of the devil’s, before something covered her head and plunged her into darkness as her body went limp.

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