#and letting her go under the pretense of being distracted from his job by Other Pests UwU | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vennilavee · 4 years

Text

love lockdown (7)

pairing: levi x reader summary: an anniversary spent together, and an old memory. warnings: wine, cursing, suggestive content, feelings of insecurity, smut (levi gets pegged)- 18+!!! word count: 4.3k a/n: based off of several asks you guys sent me hehe (the ones about the sweater curse, and tbah couple being the winery couple) tbah masterlist

Levi has been knitting for a long time, for years now, since a little before his mother had gotten sick. His mother had been the one to teach him- she had tried to even as a young boy, but he hadn’t really paid attention to it until he was older. He remembers how happy she had been when he had woven his first wool scarf. It’s been several years since his mother passed away, but he still keeps his knack for knitting alive and well.

Besides, it’s a way for him to feel close to his mother.

Levi has his favorite techniques tucked away in his brain and his favorite types of fabrics tucked away in a royal blue box in the corner of his linen closet. His trusty knitting needles also sit in the same box. It’s been a while since he had taken them out.

But he has decided that he’s going to knit you a thick blanket. Who better than to knit a blanket for anyway?

Once you and Levi begin to rack up anniversaries, Levi feels the need to do something different. Neither of you had celebrated monthly anniversaries because you felt no reason to (other than a nice candlelit dinner for your six month anniversary), but this specific moment in time feels different. Mainly because he’s come to the calming realization that you are it for him. And really, it’s a realization that has been brewing warmly for the last few months.

He’ll make it out of sunflower yellow yarn. The color that reminds him of you.

The idea is planted in his head about two months before and he sleeps on it. Before deciding that he wants to do it. It’ll take some time to finish, and he thinks he can have it done in a month or so.

Levi’s favorite way to knit is with a glass of whiskey and with the television turned on for background noise. With every stitch, he finds himself thinking of you- will you like it? He hopes you will- it’s not much, but it’s him.

But he has nothing to worry about, because he knows you’ll appreciate it. It’s part of why he keeps you around, after all.

“Dude, you’re knitting her a blanket? Have you never heard of the sweater curse?” Mike asks incredulously, “I would think you, as a well seasoned member in the knitting community, would know what the sweater curse is…”

“The what,” Levi says flatly.

“The sweater curse,” Mike repeats with a raise of an eyebrow.

“You repeating it doesn’t tell me what it means. Spit it out.”

“It’s when someone who knits makes a sweater, or anything really, for their significant other. And then the couple inevitably breaks up, because one of them realizes that they put in way more effort than the other,” Mike says. He says it so knowingly, as if it’s fact.

Levi scoffs with a slow roll of his eyes. But still, something uneasy settles in his chest. He tries to quell it before it sprouts and blossoms, and he does a mostly good job of it.

But Mike’s words stay with him for the rest of the day. Even when you had called him to say goodnight from your apartment, it had lingered in the back of his mind.

You could tell something was off- after all, you like to think you could read him like a book. Despite him giving you his full attention, you could tell he was distracted-

“Levi? Is everything okay?” You ask softly, “You seem... preoccupied.”

“Yes,” He says instantly.

With that, you don’t push him. But still you frown a little at him, wondering what could be bothering him. You decide to change the subject. It’s taken a while, but these days, if something was bothering him then he would tell you.

After letting it fester for a bit and after he tried to work through his feelings on his own.

“Hey, can I come over this weekend? I have something for you… And also your bed is comfier than mine.”

“Just say you wanna sleep on my bed. No need for false pretenses.”

“Well, it is a well known fact that your bed is superior to mine…”

You don’t push him and Levi is grateful for that. Maybe he’ll voice his concerns when you come over.

The blanket that Levi is preparing for you still needs about a week of work, but they are coming along nicely if he says so himself. The material is soft- he’s particular about what he works with and for you, he’s even more picky.

With each weave and stitch, he grows a tiny bit unsure about the stupid sweater curse. He curses Mike for putting such a stupid idea in his head. But what if it holds some truth to it? After all, he can vividly remember the instances of breakdowns in communication in the beginning- how many times he was so quick to jump to conclusions rather than talk things out with you.

He’s come a long way since then, but what if the stupid curse holds some truth to it?

His slight spiral takes a backseat when his phone vibrates, a text from you letting him know that you’ve just parked your car and you’ll be inside in a few minutes.

Levi makes his way to the lobby to greet you. Almost every time he does this, you protest, telling him that you can just meet him in his apartment. But every time, he greets you in the lobby whenever you visit him.

It’s small, but it makes your heart sing happily for your chivalrous man.

Levi takes your bags and touches your elbow lightly as you both wait for the elevator to ding. In the privacy of the elevator, you kiss him hello quickly.

“How was the drive?” Levi asks, rubbing your wrist.

“Felt longer than usual,” You admit, stifling a yawn. Levi hums in acknowledgement and keeps a hovering touch over your elbow as you both walk side by side to his apartment. You allow yourself the luxury of resting your head against his shoulder as he unlocks the front door.

“I would’ve come to pick you up if you were tired,” Levi scolds gently.

You shrug, “I don’t mind the drive, baby.”

Pet names slip easily from your lips when you’re in each other’s privacy and comfort.

“Go change and wash up,” Levi murmurs, patting your ass fondly, “I have dinner ready. I’ll pour you a glass of wine, shiraz good?”

You hum wordlessly and squeeze his arm with a grin. As you fumble through your small duffel bag that you specifically use for whenever you stay over Levi’s place, nerves begin to fizz up in your veins.

You sincerely hope Levi enjoys the small gift you had for him. Pulling on one of Levi’s looser shirts, your favorite purple hoodie and cozy leggings, you pull the gift tucked away in the side of the duffle bag and hide it behind your back.

“Hi,” You mumble softly, molding yourself to his side in the kitchen where he is setting plates for you both, “I have something for you, baby.”

“And what’s that?” Levi asks, bringing you in front of him and pressing your back against the kitchen countertop.

“Sit with me on the couch,” You murmur, tugging his hand in yours gently. Levi sees a small package in your hands as you not discreetly try to hide it from him.

You seem a little nervous, picking at the hem of your hoodie before finally raising your eyes to meet his.

You hope he likes it.

“It’s not much,” You mumble, “But…”

Levi unwraps the blue wrapping paper dotted with little cartoon stars on it with a raised eyebrow. His lips are pursed together in a thin line, wondering what it could possibly be and how he didn’t know you were planning to gift him something.

He thinks about the nearly completed blanket hidden in his bottom dresser drawer.

“It’s getting cold, and I know you don’t like how cold your neck gets in the winter,” You say, watching with wide eyes as he pulls out a rich navy sweater from the wrapping paper. It’s warm to the touch, the material thick and of good quality.

It doesn’t feel store bought.

“Did you- did you make this?” Levi says, almost incredulously, “You made this for me? Since when do you knit?”

“I don’t,” You say sheepishly, “You like knitting and I wanted to make something that you like. Or try to make something at least. If it’s shorter on one arm than the other, mind your business.”

Levi rolls his eyes and pats your head fondly. It had taken you months and hours to figure out what you were doing, with the help of videos and the elderly lady that you bought your fruits from on Saturdays.

He can’t believe you had done this right under his nose. But should he be so surprised, considering he is doing the same?

He wants to tell you about the blanket sitting at the bottom of his drawer, but he refrains. The sweater is a rich, blue that brings out his eyes (at least, according to you).

Levi instantly takes his shirt off to pull the sweater over his torso as you watch with hearts in your eyes.

“I know it’s not much… Do you-mmph-”

Your sentence is cut off by the abrupt press of his lips on yours. Levi leans over, laying his weight on top of you and kisses you soundly- his tongue slipping in your mouth with the tilt of his head. The material of the sweater tickles your chin and your cheeks. You’re surrounded by him- his kiss, his touch, his distinct love.

Levi knew he was worrying for no reason. The sweater curse might exist for other couples, but not for you both.

“Thank you,” He mumbles into your neck, his cheeks heating up, “It’s really warm.”

You only beam at him, adoration clear in the edges of your smile. Levi looks handsome, infinitely more handsome than usual since he’s wearing something that you made for him.

Your love looks good on him.

The memory of the sweater curse is amusing now, when Levi looks back on it. Now, five years later, he’s with you at a winery in celebration of your anniversary. You’re spending the night at a nearby hotel- you had picked the winery and Levi had picked the hotel.

If Levi was a painter, he thinks this would be the perfect picture to paint. You, in a sea of green vines and a clear sky beaming down on you. You, with your glowing skin and mischievous eyes. You, with love sitting in every crevice of your smile that you give him.

Maybe someday he’ll paint it. You, his sunshine personified.

“Mmm, Levi darling. Don’t you think this red wine contains a note of blueberry? Perhaps some...how do you say...raspberry?” You giggle behind your wine glass, the liquid swirling around carelessly.

“It’s a pomegranate wine sweetheart,” Levi says in amusement. You always do this at wine tastings, pretend like you’re an actual sommelier when in reality you and Levi mostly believe that all wine tastes the same.

“Close enough. It’s in the same family,” You huff.

“Oh is it? Blueberries taste like pomegranates now? What kind of berries have you been eating?”

“It’s called wine. You should try it sometime.”

That earns you a subtle swat of your ass and you giggle happily.

“It’s gorgeous out,” You sigh.

“Yes, it’s almost as gorgeous as you,” Levi says flatly and you nearly throw a slab of cheese at his chest, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Tell me you think I’m pretty.”

“You already know I do.”

“Tell me anyway. It’s my birthday, remember?”

“Your birthday just passed.”

“Okay, and? It’s still my birthday season.”

“You know you’re gorgeous. You know I think you’re gorgeous,” Levi rolls his eyes and then smirks, “But you’re prettiest when your mouth is stuffed full of-“

“I’ll blow you right here in these vines, don’t test me.”

“Stop making empty promises that were both too classy for and finish your damn wine.”

You beam at him and clink your glass noisily. It nearly slips from your grip but you catch it in time.

“We have about an hour until the wine tour. Think we can finish this bottle by then?” Levi murmurs, tugging on your hand for you to settle in his lap.

The vines you’re seated in are far, far away from the main entrance of the winery. Away from prying eyes. Which is why you both allow for a little touching, a little kissing and a lot of flirting.

“Who do you take us for?” You mumble and turn your head to kiss him lightly, “We’re wine connoisseurs. Sommeliers, if you will-“

You laugh wildly when Levi playfully nips your neck and steals a sip of your fruity wine. He wraps an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. His long, lithe fingers brush against your bare thigh. It’s funny, even after all these years, he still manages to touch you in a way that feels like magic.

You both finish your glasses of wine and eagerly fill them both up to finish off the bottle.

Your lips are stained a pretty red, matching Levi’s own lips. You touch his lips with your fingers and he doesn’t even swat your grabby hands away.

“There’s some cheese at the corner of your mouth,” You say flatly, “I’ll just get it off-“

You kiss him and he expects it, already used to your antics. He doesn’t let you get very far, only allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth and only allowing himself a plentiful grab of your ass.

“Wow, Levi, keep your hands to yourself. We’re in public,” You laugh to yourself, shooting him a pretend glare.

Levi only sighs and pops a cracker and cheese into his mouth, his hands never leaving the curve of your ass. Your giggles are higher pitched than usual, your limbs and your lips a little looser.

Tipsiness colors your dark eyes when Levi pulls your sunglasses off. “You’re not fooling anybody, sweetheart,” Levi jeers, “You're drunk off your ass.”

“No! I’ve only had like… two glasses!” You protest, grabbing your sunglasses back from him.

Levi looks at you in disbelief but says nothing. He indulges you in taking selfies with him and deciding to change your lockscreen to a new photo of both of you.

He can’t resist kissing your cheek after another half a glass of wine. “Mmm, you’re pretty,” Levi murmurs into your neck, his face warm, “You wore this dress for me?”

It’s one of his favorite dresses and his favorite color on you, and yes, maybe you did wear it because you’re very well acquainted with this information.

“No,” You roll your eyes and ignore the pinch to your waist as he tightens his arm around you, “I wore it for the wine tour guide. She’s really pretty, I might ask for her number-”

You swat his shoulder when he has the audacity to bite your neck in response. “I’d call you a vampire but you’re looking more golden than usual, my love,” You poke him, “That’s what happens when you get more than two minutes of sun per day-”

“You’ve got a mouth on you today, huh?”

“Gonna fuck the attitude outta me or what?”

“Tempting, but I’ve got wines to taste.”

Once the wine tour starts and you both get progressively more and more tipsy, blaming it on both of your affinities for wine, you make grabby hands for Levi’s cheese and crackers. He glares at you, close to pushing your hand away, but you stick your tongue out at him and swipe them anyway.

“God, fuck, you know what would taste good with this wine,” You whisper (but really it’s more of a low groan).

“What?”

“Fuckin’ Thai food,” You moan, cracker crumbs sticking to the side of your mouth, “Fuck, babe, I could go for some pad see ew…”

You huff, a dreamy sort of look in your eyes at the thought of it.

“You’re interrupting the wine guide,” Levi scolds, swatting your thigh. Though his eyes are starting to unfocus as the heat of your thigh feels so nice in his palm. He thinks he’ll leave his hand there for a bit.

“This tastes like I just dunked my head into a crisp apple and sucked the juice out of it,” You murmur, giving him a mild cider.

“Like in a good way?” Levi whispers.

“Duh.”

The wine tour consists of a few other couples and groups, but you and Levi keep to yourselves at a corner table as you give each wine you taste a rating. They all begin to blend in with each other after each taste, and pretty soon, you’re heavily leaning against Levi. The scent of his warm, spicy cologne curls around you and envelopes you in a hazy daydream filled with shades of grey.

“What?” Levi whispers when he sees you staring (a little dopily, he might add).

“Nothin’,” You grin, “Wanna nap at the hotel after this?”

“Can’t believe we’re getting drunk just to nap together,” Levi scoffs but he squeezes your hand.

“We have reservations later,” You remind him, “We both need to rally before dinner, honey.”

“Are you ready, baby?” You purr, stroking Levi’s hair back and leaning over to kiss his forehead. A pretty peachy pink blush colors his cheeks and creeps down to his neck. You tug his bottom lip out from the grip of his teeth.

A thin sheen of sweat coats his skin. You grin salaciously with hungry eyes and lick a stripe up his neck. His breath hitches, tilting his neck to the side a bit and you kiss his neck even over his pretty necklace with a green pendant hanging on the gold chain.

It’s pretty because it’s your necklace.

The softness of your lips over his skin- his chiseled chest, his lower abs- is a nice compliment to your fingers gently skimming his sides. You sit back, looking down at him from above. You lick your lips to moisten your suddenly dry mouth.

You’ve seen Levi like this, pliant and glistening for you too many times to count. But still, the sight of him flusters you and sends an instant rush of wetness flooding your pussy.

You adjust the straps of the black harness around your hips, tugging at the pretty purple silicone cock that hangs heavy between your legs. Levi tracks your movement with blown out eyes and a hand wrapped around his own thick, dripping cock.

“Did you like my fingers, baby,” You murmur, letting your hands travel up the expanse of his chest. His muscles tense with your touch, goosebumps arising instantly.

Levi hums, reaching for your hands and rubbing your knuckles.

“Mmm, words, my love,” You mumble, pressing a thumb to his plump bottom lip. His hot breath warms your finger when he opens his mouth to reply with a soft ‘yes, sweetheart’, his voice heady and low. Broken and slow with desire for you.

You pull away from his lips, ignoring the way arousal swirls in your belly and your clit throbs with how needy he looks already. You reach forward and stroke his cock languidly and gather his wetness over your thumb and press your thumb to his bottom lip again.

“Open, baby,” You say, your own voice sounding a little raspy, “Open up.”

Levi parts his lips and allows your thumb into his mouth and he swirls his tongue over it, tasting himself on his lips. You groan at the sight with hooded eyes, wishing for some friction over your clit.

You look like a vision hovering over him- your legs tanned and glowing, eyes zeroed in on him, looking at him like you want to absolutely ruin him. You are a goddess, and he’ll follow you wherever you might take him.

Especially when you slide into him slowly, deliciously, as he savors the slight burn as it dissipates into pleasure. Your grip is tight over his hips, warmth and electricity spreading from your fingertips to his belly.

You’ll ruin him, ruin the silky navy sheets below him, steal his soul from his cock. All of the above. Anything you give him, he’ll take. He’ll take it with open lips and open legs.

It doesn’t take much for you to find a rhythm with your palms flat on the sheets on either side of Levi. Arousal licks your insides at every gaze of his heated cheeks and his murky, grey eyes. He’s openly vocal with you, panting and mewling into the sheets, alternating between fisting them and holding your hips with a searing grip.

“God, baby, look at you,” You whine, leaving open mouthed kisses to his chest while still rocking your hips into him, “Is this okay, baby? I love you-”

Levi groans and nods, wrapping his legs around your waist for a deeper grind of your cock. He palms your tits, squeezing in his large hands and moans into the space between you both.

“Are you wet,” Levi asks in a strangled voice.

“Fuck yeah,” You grin, thrusting your hips in a slow grind into him. His cock is throbbing, standing tall and pretty for you. You stroke him slowly, matching your thrusts with your strokes.

It takes coordination, but you’re used to it.

“Wanna sit on my face?” Levi murmurs, squeezing your thighs with his heavy hands. He’s close, so close, and you both know it- his thighs begin to quake slightly. And he has the familiar look in his face when he’s about to cum, his eyes go dark, lips parted and his eyebrows are furrowed into a tight line.

“Mmm, maybe later,” You reply instantly, wanting to see him come undone by your hands and by your cock. By you, by the steadfast beat of love that surrounds you both and envelopes you on this silky sweet cotton candy cloud.

Or maybe it’s just the sheets.

“Is my baby close?” You purr, dark eyes swirling, “My baby’s gonna cum?”

“Fuck,” Levi groans, throwing his head back onto the bed when you thrust into him particularly harshly. The column of his pretty throat is exposed to you and you lean forward, his cock still in one hand. Sucking a mark on his clavicle, you nip his earlobe and his breath hitches as you make your way down his chest.

“Your cock is so big in my hands,” You marvel softly, looking down, “You’re so big, baby…So good to me. My big, strong, sexy man.”

And apparently, that’s what he needs to finally cum, a long, drawn out groan of your name slipping out of his mouth as he shakes in your hold. Ribbons of cum paint your hand and his lower abs, some of it even spraying on your harness.

“You’re messy,” You tease and Levi only hums in acknowledgement, “Are you okay? I’ll go get you water and clean you up, sweetheart.”

Levi doesn’t move, only shifting on his side tiredly. You make your way to the fancy, marbled bathroom to unclasp the harness and clean yourself up. Your pussy still throbs, achingly so, but that’s the last thing on your mind.

He calls your name gruffly, voice a little hoarse. You return to him with a glass of water and wrap your arms around him from behind, kissing the back of his neck gently. Your fingers thread over his sore muscles, his abdomen and his thighs and you rub his scalp soothingly with a deft touch.

“Are you okay?” You murmur, hugging him close to your chest.

“Yes,” Levi says instantly, “More than okay.” He turns in your arms and pushes his head into your bare chest, inhaling deeply and innocently grabs your ass. Just to hold you close- his touch is mostly unassuming. He likes being close to you, touching you, just breathing with you after times like this when you steal his soul with your cock.

You glance down at him and smile, pushing his dark hair away from his forehead and press a kiss to his sweaty skin. Levi nuzzles his cheek further into your chest, a content hum rumbling in his chest. His thigh brushes against your aching core and you force yourself to stifle a groan. But he catches it, because he always does.

Your attentive man.

“You didn’t cum,” Levi states, letting his hand drift downwards to palm your sensitive pussy.

“We have later for that,” You mumble, swatting his hand away but he doesn’t listen. He presses himself closer to you, sinking his lips into your neck and rubbing your clit lazily.

His long, lithe fingers slide into your wetness easily and you huff into his ear. “We have now for that,” Levi murmurs, nipping your jaw as presses his finger into your dripping core, “Slow with me, baby.”

It doesn’t take much for you to cum, just a few strokes of his fingers in you and a few slow circles of his thumb on your clit. It hits you slowly, crawling up your toes before curling in your belly in a warm stroke of flames. It’s unhurried as it blooms in your belly, allowing you to savor every second of it.

“Sit on my face later,” Levi says, pulling you closer into his side. You throw a leg up around his hip and hum in agreement. You press a kiss to his clavicle, the slow of his heartbeat in tandem with the gentleness of your fingertips rolling through his hair.

“Happy anniversary, my love,” You mumble, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“Our anniversary was on Friday,” Levi says with a turn of his lips, earning himself a swat to his chest, “Happy anniversary, pretty girl.”

Levi kisses your forehead, his knuckles brushing your cheek before dipping down for another kiss.

“Cheers to many more,” You say, smiling into his kiss. He replies by deepening the kiss and pressing your back to the bed, allowing himself to drop on top of you.

Levi’s touch has always made you feel infinite, and this time is no different.

tags: @simpingmaize @captainchrisstan @kentobean @alrightberries @melancholicmonologue @regalillegal @castellandiangelo

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi x you #aot x reader #snk x reader

256 notes · View notes

hot-wiings · 4 years

Text

The One Where Despite The Sports Festival, Shouto Todoroki Hates Using His Quirk, But [Y/N] [L/N] Enjoys It.

Edited: 12-2-2020

"It's so fucking cold."

The words came out rushed and loud as you clattered your teeth together. Your arms rubbed up and down over your thin school jacket as you cursed at your teacher in your head. You were supposed to be indoors, doing this school activity inside of the warm enclosed walls of Gym Gamma, instead, Shouta had your class outside, working on the P.E grounds due to miscommunication and overlapping training schedules with class B.

"C'mere, you're warm, I'm cold, hug me."

You buried yourself into the warmer side of your boyfriend, Shouto Todoroki. He had his own personal built-in heating pad, it wasn't fair to let him keep it all to himself. After all, sharing is caring. A light blush spread across his face as he slung his left arm around your back and let his left hand rest on your arm. He pulled you against him, helping you create heat as he debated giving you his own jacket to put on.

"Mm. That's great."

Shouto let out a small smile and he moved his warm, left hand up and down your arm as you both watched Mina spar with Mineta. His hand came up and rolled over your shoulder and made soft contact with your ear and cheek.

"Talking about me or the fight?"

"Well I was talking about you, but I can't say I don't find pleasure in seeing Mineta get beat."

"I know he can be a jerk, but isn't she going a little extreme. I'm surprised he isn't unconscious."

You let out a small chuckle as Mina destroyed his balls with her acid and delivered yet another punch to his face. You had to admit, she was going a bit hardcore on him, and you were sure Mr. Aizawa could see that, but no one stopped her. You were sure she was going so extreme with him due to the stunt he tried pulling the week before, your blood boiled and you clenched your fists just thinking about it. You hadn't told Shouto about said stunt, choosing to keep it a secret between you and Mina.

"He deserves it! He's commenting on our bodies is one thing, but he crossed a line last week."

"What did he do now?"

Shouto knew the boy's schemes were horrendous, and he tried his best to put the pervert back in line when you asked him to or complained about it. It was his job as a boyfriend to make you feel secure, and he took pride in it. He wanted to be the opposite of his father, a significant other you could run to for help, and making you feel safe and protected from the antics of your lesser classmate was how he did that, but you and neglected to tell your boyfriend about how bad the boy was getting.

Shouto placed a chase kiss onto the top of your head as he ran his hand up and down, his fingers leaving warm soothing circles on your shoulder. You pulled your lip between your teeth, realizing you slipped up and mentioned it. You hadn't told your boyfriend about the stunt Mineta pulled because you were both embarrassed it even happened, and ashamed you couldn't defend yourself. Besides that fact, Shouto could get jealous and possessive. Whenever you mention Mineta was bothering you Shouto didn't give you a chance to ask for help, he just seemed to take care of it. Jealousy and possession was a natural human feeling, but you didn't want him trying to murder the boy for his severe actions.

"Uh, well, I mean it's not worth sharing that much. Just the usual nasty things he does."

"What did he do?"

Shouto ran his fingers over your rosy, cold cheeks. Trying to entice you to answer him by distracting you with warmth. It worked.

"He snuck into the girl's dorms to spy on us after hours! To make things worse, he tried watching me change. When I saw him, he used his damned balls to make me sticky. Stuck in my bra and panties, completely helpless and unable to move. You have no idea how humiliated and disgusting I felt!"

"I would've made him apologize. Why didn't you tell me?"

Shoutos grip on your arm loosened but you could still feel the heat just radiating off of his body. He was upset that you didn't tell him, you knew that, but for all the wrong reasons. What you assumed was jealousy, in reality, was fear. The thought that you didn't need or want him to defend you. He took joy in it, he took joy in protecting you. What he so proudly took pride in, was swept away by Mina.

Mina had finally knocked Mineta out and walked past you and Shouto with a shit-eating grin on her face. She shot a thumbs-up signal in your direction as she went to the infirmary to retrieve Recovery Girl for Mineta. Nonverbal communication that she had avenged your dignity, but to Shouto it was just a slap in his face. Why hadn't you immediately told him? He would've knocked Mineta down a peg or two. He would've humbled him down and made him apologize. He should have been the one to redeem your dignity and redeem your image. He should've been the one defending your honor, but you hadn't even told him about it.

Did you not trust him? Was he not good at making you feel secure?

"Todoroki vs. Bakugo."

The anger and frustration was already taking over Shouto as he broke away from you and walked toward the center of the training grounds to meet Katsuki. The feral boy wasted no time in blasting Shouto, trying to anger him resulting in him using his flames unlike he had in the sports festival.

"Die!"

Shouto rebutted Katsuki's blast by hitting him with ice. Aggravated and aggressive, Katsuki sent boom after boom, blast after blast while he growled out phrases to work Shouto up and bring out his flames.

"Won't use your flames? Pathetic. I honestly wonder why [Y/N] is with you, my explosions always got her going."

"Leave her name out of your mouth."

Emotions consumed him once your name left Katsuki lips. He was angry that you didn't trust him enough to tell him about how his classmate tried to defile your image. Sad that you hadn't gone to him for comfort and redemption but Mina instead. All his emotions were thrust into his quirk as he sent Katsuki one hard blast of his flames. Blow after blow, eventually, Katsuki went down. He gripped his arm which now held a severe burn from a Shouto as he screamed out fuck you's.

As he cooled down, ex or not, Shouto couldn't help but regret his actions towards Katsuki. He saw the burns he left Katsuki with. He saw Katsuki gripping his arm as Recover Girl made her way over to him. He could see Katsuki resist help, trying to say it wasn't as bad as it was. He looked over at you, as you stared at him while you bit your lip, guilt flooded his entire being.

What if that had been you? What if he had lost his temper with you? If he was capable of snapping at Katsuki so quickly, what was he capable of with you?

Shouto made his way over to you and with quick hands, you grabbed onto him. You inspected him for injuries, worried he had been hurt too. Shouto hadn't been the only one to get blows in, but his injuries weren't physical. As your worried eyes met his, he felt disgusted with himself. He didn't understand how you were able to cling to such a monster like him. Katsuki's burns flashed in his head as Shouto pulled away from your grasp and ripped his jacket from his back.

He could hurt you. He was capable of hurting you.

"I'm fine. Here, take my jacket so you can be warmer."

"Oh, won't you need it? Quirks are just physical extensions of your body, I don't want you overexerting yourself."

"Don't worry about me. I'm going back to the dorms since my fights over."

His voice came out rushed, his tone cold, harsh and you frowned. Before he even heard your reply, Shouto turned on his heel and walked off to class 1-A's dorm rooms. He hadn't meant to be so cold with you. He didn't want to be harsh with you. Anyone, but you. He didn't want to, but he couldn't stand to be there with you. He couldn't stand there and let you take advantage of his quirk. He couldn't stand there and heat you knowing how he could hurt you. After what he did to Katsuki, you should have been disgusted with him.

He was a monster, he wasn't worthy of you.

"Who's next on the list?"

The snow fell around you, wetting your hair and getting your clothes damp as you pulled your hands out of your pockets and opened your phone with stiff cold fingers to look at the Christmas list you both together made weeks prior. Shouto wanted to reach across the small gap between you. He wanted to reach over and push your hair behind your ear. He wanted to reach out and pull your frozen hand into his warm one, but he wouldn't. He couldn't, he was already pushing the limit by being here as it was.

He was distancing himself, pulling away, and hoping you would receive the subtle hints he was dropping your way. The hints that he wanted to break up, to no longer see you, to no longer be yours. It wasn't that this is what he wanted, it's what he felt needed to be done. Shouto didn't want to hurt you by breaking up. He didn't want to be away from you. To him, you were his whole world, one of his motivations to become a hero. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how much safer you'd be off without him. How much safer, how much better you'd be without a monster like him.

He hoped the list was almost over with, he wasn't sure he'd be able to handle another minute with you. He knew he couldn't handle breaking your heart himself, so ingeniously he found a solution: Be detached until you break up with him instead. He was supposed to distance himself, but all he wanted to do was pull you in his arms. He knew he should've stayed at the dorms, stayed in the confines of his dorm room, neglecting you under the pretense of studying. However, when you came to him asking if he still wanted to go Christmas shopping together like you both originally planned to, he couldn't say no. The way you looked at him, a broken hopeful expression that he would say yes. Hopeful that he'd want to spend time with you despite him pushing you away. It broke his stoic reserve.

"We still need a guitar for Kyouka, a bag for Ochako, and something for Momo, she's kinda hard to shop for because she already has everything, but I saw her eyeing a necklace last month. I bet we could even find Ochako a bag in the same store."

He was practically ecstatic to hear you only had three more people to shop for, two of which could be hit in the same store. The quicker this was over the better. You placed your phone back in your pocket and reached out for Shouto's hand. The gap was closed between you both as you tugged him along the sidewalk with you towards the store you needed. Shouto smiled. He briefly smiled and relished in the feeling of your hand in his, but it was short-lived as he pulled his hand out of yours and stuffed it in his pocket.

He knew there must have been a hurt expression on your face, but he had to take a moment to remind himself. He had to remind himself why he was distancing himself from you. It was for you. You didn't deserve to be with a monster like him. You didn't deserve it, all you needed was a push in the right direction.

As you walked beside Shouto into the Lois Vuitton outlet store your heart felt heavy but you tried your best to push through the pain. You couldn't pretend that there wasn't anything wrong with your relationship. You couldn't pretend that your boyfriend hadn't been distant, hadn't been cold and closed off. He used to be so sweet, sweet, and present. He would walk you to your dorm after class, take you for walks, hold your hand, and more often than not, take you out on impromptu dates. He didn't do that anymore. He was cold and absent. He rarely talked to you and he put little to no effort into being with you. Even when you tried putting all the effort, you could see him pulling away. As he pulled away more and more, you had to wonder if he even wanted to be around you.

You had a whirlwind of thoughts on why he was being so distant, why he no longer wanted you. You just wanted all the worries and thoughts to go away. You wanted the negative reasons you'd come up with every night as you laid in bed to be gone. You wanted things to go back to normal because, despite all of this, you were holding out hope that things would go back to normal. Hope that perhaps he would begin to come around again.

You walked through Louis Vuitton with Shouto hot on your trail as you went to the jewelry display. Shouto quickly grasped the right necklace in his hands, the expensive a thousand dollar golden lipstick holder necklace. He turned to you with a determined smile.

"This is the one right?"

Suddenly, that dark cloud of thoughts came out again. The one that rained on you when you were at your most hopeful. The one that said he didn't love you, but most likely fell for another. The one that gave you the most probable answer.

"How'd you know that was the one she wanted?"

"I was with you both when you saw it."

It was a logistic explanation, but the simple sentence placed the seed of doubt into your head. Doubt that slowly diminished your hope. Despite the awfully, distrustful feeling it left you with, you chose to give Shouto the benefit of the doubt as you made your way over the bag selection.

"So, everyone's making plans for Christmas, and I was wondering if we were going to spend it together."

"I haven't really thought about my Christmas plans yet."

"We don't have to if you don't want to, figured I'd ask."

You kept your face away from Shouto and buried in the bag rack. You didn't want him to see the expression on your face. You didn't want him to see the remnants of all the hope you had left in this relationship. There was a right answer, the right answer you hoped he'd say, but that seed of doubt knew he wasn't going to say it.

"I was gonna go home for Christmas. Figured we both could use time with our families."

A single stray tear made its way down your cheek as his sentences tumbled out. All the hope you had left in your body crumpled as his words resounded in your ears. You hadn't spent a Christmas apart since the start of your three-year relationship. He knew you didn't have the best family. He knew you hated your father just as much as he hated his father. You both made it your tradition to be together for the holidays. You asking about it wasn't supposed to be a question, but reassurance he wasn't going to leave you alone. It was reassuring you he still cared, but all it did was water the seed.

"You want to go home for Christmas? I thought you hated being home over the holidays."

"Some things change, [Y/N]. You don't have a problem with it, do you?"

Of course you did. He was abandoning you. He was leaving you over Christmas for his bastard father he hated. The seed of doubt was beginning to blossom and you were looking for ways to uproot it. You had one vice left to try. His jealousy. If he so much as still loved or even liked you as a girlfriend, then just bringing up you and another boy alone would bring out the beast. No matter how innocent it would be, whether it be walking in the halls, or studying, Shouto could get possessive of you, and while you hated the idea of playing into his emotions like this, it was necessary.

"Of course not! Denki invited me to go on a trip over holiday break anyway. The guy he interns for owns a mansion up north, perfect for skiing. You don't have a problem with that, do you?"

"No, I hope you have fun."

You scanned Shouto's face for any indication that you going up north with Denki alone bothered him, but stoic as ever he was unbothered. A last resort really, but you pulled out a card you never wanted to.

"You're sure? Katsuki is going to be there, and I don't want to make you uncomfortable by hanging out with my ex for a week and a half."

"[Y/N], I don't care. Go ahead, you know not to do something you'd regret."

If Shouto really cared for you he would have said yes. He would've said he had a problem with his girlfriend going on a trip with her ex-boyfriend. You thrust the bag into Shouto's arms and avoided his eyes, scared you would let the tears flow out in front of him.

"Um, can you go pay? I need to use the bathroom."

Shouto tried not to look over at you on the couch. He wanted to scoot closer to you, he wanted to pull your body against his. He wanted to see the little face you made when his warmth took over your freezing skin, he wanted you to fall asleep on him. He wanted to be close to you again, he wanted things to go back to how they used to be. They couldn't go back, it wasn't that simple. He could never revert back into your loving boyfriend, he couldn't allow himself to be yours.

As the weeks from that day in the outlet mall progressed, Shouto could feel his resolve diminish. Despite the distance you still tried to connect and be around him, he was still your boyfriend no matter how cold of a front he put up. It hurt to have you trying to cling to him but he kept pushing you away. It hurt to have you offer date opportunities only for him to turn them down. What hurt Shouto the most was letting you go on that trip with Katsuki. He wanted to tell you not to go on that trip, he wanted to tell you to stay at the dorms with him. With every passing day you talked with Katsuki more and more, it pained Shouto to act like he was fine and chill with it.

Shouto didn't know this was a ploy to make him jealous to try and incite any lingering feelings for you. He didn't know that you weren't even planning to go on the trip with Katsuki but actually planned to stay at the dorms once he left for his own family home for the holidays. You chatted up katsuki more often and even went as far as to ask Shouto for advice on a bathing suit to both bring forth feelings from him and make your lie more convincing. It wasn't as though Shouto wasn't jealous, it wasn't as though he stopped caring for you and who you hung out with. The idea of you in a bikini with Katsuki grated him. The two of you in a hot tub, escaping the dreaded cold rubbed him the wrong way, but he needed to let it happen, he needed to push you away into the arms of someone more worthy, into the arms of another.

"When are you leaving for your trip?"

Shouto hadn't even turned to look at you as he spoke out the question. He hadn't looked and maybe had he, he would've seen how broken you looked, he would've seen your disheveled appearance and his resolve would've broken for sure. With your legs pulled up on the couch and your head resting on your knees, a frown on your face as you stole sneaky little glances at your boyfriend when he wasn't looking. He never looked at you anymore, just another indication of where your relationship was headed.

"Katsuki and I are meeting at the airport in a couple of hours, he said the ticket was paid for by his internship boss, but I think he's really paying for it."

Shouto didn't look at you, and it hurt. What guy didn't get upset, or weird at the very least, at the idea of his girlfriend going on a trip with her ex-boyfriend? Beyond that, the proposed idea that his girlfriend is getting a plane ticket paid for by said ex-boyfriend should upset him. You snagged your lip between your teeth as your grip on your legs tightened.

"When are you going home?"

"Tonight."

You nodded your head and made a mental note to leave until he left to make it seem you went on the trip. You didn't want him knowing that you planned to stay in the dorms alone over Christmas, but those were his exact plans. He hadn't spent a Christmas apart from you since the beginning of this relationship, and he just wanted to wallow in self-pity over having pushed you away successfully.

"Do you want to exchange gifts before we leave?"

"I didn't think we were getting each other gifts since we're not seeing each other on Christmas."

You let out a sigh as you tried to keep the tears down. You were so hopeful, you were holding out for him but you couldn't anymore. You got him a gift, hoping that Christmas would bring out the best in him and make him open up. You thought that the day would roll around and everything would be fixed by the magic of Christmas. He hadn't even gotten you a gift, yet he knew what neckless Momo wanted. You couldn't do it anymore, you couldn't pretend things would get better. You couldn't pretend he still loved you.

"What did I do wrong? I'm sorry, I can fix it. I'm sorry, I'll fix it."

The tears began leaking out and running down your cheeks in warm streaks. You tried to keep your little sniffles quiet by pressing your hand over your mouth and nose. You didn't want him to see you cry, you didn't want him to hear your tears, but he did. Shouto looked over at you with knitted eyebrows before looking back at the fireplace. He wanted to comfort you, he wanted to hold you and reassure you that it was okay, but he needed to push you away.

"I'm drowning, I'm drowning Shouto. I don't understand what I did to make us like this. Am I too clingy, do I suffocate you? I'll give you space, I can give you more space!"

Shouto clenched his fists as your words tumbled out in frantic sentences but he stayed silent. He did so well, he's done so well at pushing you away. He had to keep his resolve up, he had to push away. You didn't deserve him, you didn't deserve to be with such a monster.

"When Katsuki broke up with me he said it was cause' I'm weak. Is that it, am I too weak for you? I'll train harder. I'll be a hero you can be proud of."

Shouto kept his face away from yours, silently and still staring at the fire. He knew if he looked at you then he would break. If he looked at you he would crawl into your arms and whisper reassuring words on how Katsuki is an ass, reassuring words on how strong you were. He wanted to tell you that you always made him proud, but he didn't let himself. The more he continued being silent, the more it hurt you. More tears flowed from your eyes as you spoke out the sentence you so solemnly tried to quell. The thought you so desperately had been trying to put out like a wild fire.

"Deep down I know the truth, you want her, don't you? Momo? God, how stupid I must look, my boyfriend and my best friend right under my nose."

You pressed your hand to your mouth to muffle a strangled sob as you wiped away your tears with the back of your hand, futile as more quickly replaced them. Shouto looked over at you, a few tears dripping down from his own eyes. That's what you thought? That he was cheating? Shouto wasn't sure if he should feel insulted for you thinking so low of him, but then again, had the roles been reversed with you pushing him away, he would think the same.

"I... I just want you to know I don't blame you Shouto. She can suit your needs so well. She's smarter, rich, and god, she's so much prettier. I- I'm sorry I wasn't enough for you, I'm sorry I couldn't satisfy you. I'm sorry I wasted your ti"-

"Don't say that, don't, just don't. Don't compare yourself to her. I don't want Momo, I haven't wanted anyone except for you."

"Then why don't you want me? You don't touch me anymore, you don't even look at me. I don't understand what I did."

"You didn't do anything! You did nothing, it's me! I'm the problem, I'm the issue."

Shouto stood up abruptly, pacing back and forth he ran his hand through his hair roughly. He should've kept his resolve, he should've stayed solid, but hearing the quiver in your voice, hearing your thoughts, your deeply negative thoughts broke him so.

"You are so perfect, [Y/N]. I love when you cling to me, you're so strong, you're beautiful and perfect, and fuck! The only reason I remembered Momo's necklace was because it was right next to the earrings I bought for you."

You stood up and wrapped your arms around Shouto. You buried your face in his chest as he let his tears fall. He should push you away, he should make distance from you, but he couldn't. He couldn't, instead, he wrapped his arms around you and let out his own sob into your hair as he held you close for the first time in days.

"I'm such a monster [Y/N]. I'm such a monster, I'm just like my dad. You saw how I burned Katsuki. You shouldn't be with me, I might hurt you."

You pulled out of Shouto's arms to cup his face. There was a frown on your face, leaving him with an unsettling feeling in his gut that you agreed. It was quite the opposite.

"Shouto, you would never hurt me. I don't know where you got that idea, but I know you would never. You are sweet, caring, and possibly the best boyfriend to ever exist. You are not your father, you are Shouto Todorki, my boyfriend."

"I've hurt you so much these past few weeks. I've ignored you, and I've been cold, why are you still here."

"You pushed me away because you thought it was good for me. Granted that wasn't your choice to make, I'm still here because I love you, and you love me, the rest is pudding."

You pressed your lips against Shoutos, they felt warm and rough, you hadn't felt them in so long, how you missed them so. You pressed into the kiss, with him pulling you closer, want and need dripping between you both as your wandering hands pulled and tugged each other.

"Tell me what's going on instead of pushing me away next time. I'm not letting you go, no matter how hard you push me away. I'm here to stay."

"I will, I promise. I love you, [Y/N], so much. I need you in my life. I've been an awful ass, and I know I'm in no place to make requests, but please don't go with Katsuki."

"I never planned to, I turned him down when he first asked. I wanted to spend Christmas with you, Sho. We're always together for the holidays, we have our own traditions, and spending it with anyone else isn't right."

"I wasn't gonna go home either, was gonna stay here. What a pair of liars we are, c'mon, I think we can still salvage this Christmas Eve."

Shouto kissed your hand and tugged you towards the kitchen. With your hands enveloped in each other, all was right. It was right, being with you was right. Maybe he was a monster, maybe he was temperamental, but that was something he was willing to work on to be with you.

201 notes · View notes

rjhpandapaws · 3 years

Text

Bad to Work With

Ch 1: Never the Same One Twice

Gavin liked to joke that he had bad luck, but this was something else entirely. He had done a very ill timed walk of shame this morning from one of his best hookups in recent history; and was running late. He had gone home, cleaned up quickly, and gotten changed. Running late was usually the worst of it, but apparently karma had it out for him, because on the elevator ride up to the business floor, his company from the night before stepped into the elevator. “Good morning Gavin.” Richard said with a coy smile, his steel blue eyes were alight with amusement, “If I had known we were both headed to the same place I would have given you a ride.” There were several reasons Gavin should have kept his mouth shut, not the least of which being that Richard was technically his boss. That being said, Gavin wasn’t particularly known for his sense of self preservation, “You were hardly inclines to let me out of bed when I told you I had work, so forgive me if I doubt that.” Richard rolled his eyes and leaned into Gavin’s personal space a little more and spoke in that same low purr that had gotten Gavin into this mess, “I certainly didn’t hear you complaining this morning.” “Well I’m complaining now.” Gavin huffed trying to step away and only serving to back himself into the corner of the elevator, “Because you couldn’t keep your fucking hands to yourself I have to suffer through breakroom coffee.”

“How tragic.” Richard said in a dry tone that made it clear he couldn’t possibly care less, “Give me another night and I’ll make coffee in the morning.” Gavin hesitated. It was only a few moments, but he was aware of it, and because of that he found it safe to assume Richard had been too. “No.” He said less firmly than he would have liked, “I don’t do that sort of thing.” He ducked under Richard’s arm when he heard the elevator chime. He felt the weight of those steel blue eyes on his back even after the elevator doors had closed. Sure, Richard had been one of his better nights, but he didn’t do repeats and he wasn’t going to start now. The flash of hurt in those usually composed blue eyes had been brief enough that he could pretend he hadn’t seen it. The regret of it still lingered though. This is why he didn’t do repeats, if you came back feelings got involved. Or in this case, if you saw each other in the elevator feelings got involved. Gavin swung by the breakroom for some coffee. He was in his own head as he made it. He’d just had a night with one of his bosses, there was bound to be consequences for that. Especially if he wasn’t careful. Richard didn’t seem the type for revenge, but Gavin didn’t want to take that chance. He was going to do his job and do it well; and more importantly he wasn’t going to fall back into bed with Richard no matter how tempting the thought was. Once good night was enough.

He got settled in at his desk drank from the poor excuse for coffee, and got to work. For now there was no reason to worry, it had only been one night and he wasn’t feeling anything. Nothing more than the ghost of a touch and the memory of how he had chased it. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, he didn’t do repeats and he wasn’t about to start now. He took another drink if his coffee, which didn’t help his mood, and typed on his keyboard with enough force that one might have believed it had personally wronged him. It took time, but eventually his work pulled him in. It was monotonous and easy, but there was enough of it to keep his mind from wandering too far. What ultimately pulled him away was his need for a cigarette. He hadn’t gotten a chance to smoke last night because he had been a little distracted; and he hadn’t had time this morning. It was getting distracting. In the back of his mind he could hear Tina nagging at him to quit. He saved what he had been working on and stood from his desk, he made sure his lighter and cigarettes were still in his jacket pocket and made his way toward the bank of elevators. He’d have a smoke or two, then come back inside and have some more coffee. Then maybe he would be able to concentrate. He hit the call button for the elevator and waited. He was giving Richard more thought than the night deserved. He would like to believe that he was hung up on the fact that they were coworkers, but it was more than that and he knew it. In the elevator he had almost said yes. He’d had to put thought into saying no and that had been a first.

He huffed out an annoyed sigh and stepped into the elevator that had opened, he was alone for now. The whole point of this break was to get Richard out of his head. He was tempted to light a cigarette in the elevator to chase these thoughts away with nicotine. He knew better though and didn’t, he could make it outside. He stepped into the lobby and waved to Stephanie as he passed the main desk to get to the side door. He leaned against the wall with a content sigh and pulled the box of cigarettes and his lighter from his pocket. He pressed the cigarette to his lips and lit it. He tipped his head back and let out the smoke watching it curl away into nothing. He had a moment to himself and planned to use it to try and sort out his thoughts. What was it about Richard that pulled him in? What was it that was keeping him so close? Why had he hesitated when Richard had brought up going home with him again? Gavin knew the answer to at least one of those, it was because Richard at least seemed to care. It had been a long while since any one had even pretended that much and it had been nice. It was the only thing he could think of that was worth being hung up on. At least it was the one he was willing to admit to, the rest was too close to digging up things he had reasons to keep buried. He had his reasons for not sticking around. He didn’t even normally stay the night, but he and Richard hadn’t been able to keep apart. There had to be a reason for that.

“It doesn’t fucking matter.” He snapped at the open air as he tapped the ash from his cigarette. He was thinking about him so much that he couldn’t even enjoy his fucking smoke break. He took another drag and did what he could to stop that particular train of thought. His mind had other plans. It played shadows of Richard’s touch over his body again. He had been firm with his intentions but not rough. He had known what Gavin had been chasing and gave it to him. It had been different. That was why he was stuck. It hadn’t been the quick, drunk, and desperate that he was used to. He groaned and snuffed out his cigarette, this clearly wasn’t going to help him. “Can’t even fucking smoke in peace because of that bastard.” He threw away the cigarette butt and made his way back inside. He was going to make the strongest coffee he could manage with what they had in the break room, finish his work, and then go get waisted. He was going to take someone home and he was not going to think about Richard. He was going to do what he did best; bury the problem and chase distractions until it went away. Cleo had taken over for Stephanie at the front desk and Gavin waved to him as he passed on his way to the bank of elevators. He hit the call button and pulled out his phone. He pulled up one of his hook up apps then closed it and put his phone away. He didn’t want a date, he wanted something without pretense. No familiarity and a small chance of ever crossing paths again.

The elevator at the far end of the bank opened up and a few people filed out of it. They were probably off to lunch. Gavin stepped into the elevator after they had left. He hit the button for the eleventh floor and leaned back against the wall. Ha had company for a couple of floors, but they seemed to notice that he wasn’t in the mood to make conversation and kept quiet. Once he was back on his floor he swung by the break room to make himself more coffee. With the strong coffee in hand he made his way back to his desk to find a cup from a cafe near the office that he definitely hadn’t stopped by. There was a sticky note on the lid. He sighed and sat down. He set the cup he had made by his monitor and took the sticky note off the other one and read it.

Sorry about your coffee Gavin. -Richard

Beneath that was Richard’s number. Gavin bit back a groan, apparently there was no escaping this man. He put the sticky note in his desk drawer with plans to throw it away later. Free coffee wasn’t something he was about to turn down. It was the overly flavored shit, but he would suffer through it. He finished both coffees before his work day ended. He made plans to meet Tina at their usual bar. He had blue eyes and sensual touches to drown with bad beer and cheap shots. If he thought about Richard he was going to make a mistake; assuming he hadn’t already.

“So you slept with your boss?” Tina asked once they were situated. “One of them, the CFO.” Gavin said, staring into his beer glass as though it held all the answers and to avoid the delight he knew was shining in her eyes. “And you didn’t notice this before?” She pressed, clearly hell bent on making him miserable. “I was drunk, and he’s very different outside of work Tina.” He said with a sigh that sounded a little to close to wistful for his liking, “I didn’t have to tell him anything, he seemed to just know.” “Okay so I have a couple more questions.” She continued, “You admit he’s one of the better ones and you still won’t stay?” She held up her hand to stop Gavin’s argument, “You plan to get over drunkenly sleeping with one of your bosses by getting drunk and sleeping with someone else?” “That’s the plan.” Gavin remarked, “I don’t want to take that risk. You know how last time went.” Tina didn’t respond, well not verbally at least, but her eyes said she didn’t believe him. She might have been right; but like with most other things, it would be Future Gavin’s problem. Tonight was about drinking to forget old mistakes, and to potentially make new ones. Worse ones. So long as he didn’t fall together with Richard again he would be fine. He split his time between drinking and dancing. Moving from stranger to stranger in search of someone that would help him forget. He knew he probably wouldn’t find what he was looking for, but he was determined to try. Even if it was just for show at this point. Gavin Reed didn’t fall in love and he wasn’t about to start now. He wasn’t ready.

#A Guide to Bad Business Practices #A Guide to Bad Business Practices AU #AGBBP #Bad to Work With #BWW #reed900 #gavin reed #dbh nines #dbh fic #dbh

42 notes · View notes

vickyvicarious · 3 years

Note

I love your Leverage meta posts about Eliot and Moreau's relationship so much and they're making me think if Moreau like, actually wanted to control Eliot he could just take Parker and/or Hardison hostage. Probably both, I'm also thinking of that episode where Nate and Sophie got taken hostage and Eliot says they have to be careful because if there's multiple hostages they can kill one to make a point. If I were any good at writing I'd write this maybe

Oh my god, the angst inherent in this concept.....

So if I'm thinking about where this could go in canon, Moreau never actually sees Parker the entire time. In the Big Bang Job he meets Eliot and Hardison first, then Nate shows up and pisses him off. In San Lorenzo, Eliot stays away from him the entire time, instead working with Parker behind the scenes. But he sees Nate and Hardison, and then he sees Sophie in the crowd/on TV so he knows about her as well. I don't think he ever actually knows about Parker at all? Unless he saw her in the videochat scene at the beginning of San Lorenzo, but he never saw her in person.

So, there's two ways I could see this happening without going full AU:

Moreau kidnaps Hardison in the pool scene.

Moreau lets Eliot go... but just Eliot. It's very apparent to him that Hardison is not just some business associate of Eliot's. He's jealous and angry and also, very happy to take advantage of a clear weakness. If he just killed Hardison right now Eliot would refuse to work for him, so instead he just keeps him as collateral. The downside of this for Moreau is that by doing so he gives away the game that he's not really working with Eliot, much sooner. He can't quite do the same killbox surprise. But he won't necessarily need to, if Eliot values Hardison's life enough to risk his own.

Moreau was testing this with the drowning in the pool thing. He was watching Eliot's reaction (which is why Eliot tried so hard not to act scared for Hardison at all). He surely noticed that Eliot started talking right after Hardison went in the water. In this AU, Moreau would let the conversation go just a little longer. Long enough that Hardison doesn't have enough air to save himself when the key is thrown in. And once that happens, Eliot was going to jump in and save him, he couldn't not. That's plenty revealing, and Moreau will let Eliot get Hardison out, give him CPR and get him breathing again, clutch his hands and mutter at him to breathe, dammit Hardison, breathe... He lets them have just one moment of relief... and then he speaks up.

"Time to finish your part of the bargain, Eliot. We'll be waiting."

The goons move in to grab Hardison. Moreau knows how Eliot operates, he wouldn't send everyone in close. He'd keep someone back, holding a shot at Hardison and ready to take it at the first sign of resistance. Eliot protests that this isn't part of the deal, but...

"Come on, you know I'm a good host. Besides, it'll be so much easier to take him to the auction if we're already in the same place."

Damien doesn't budge, Eliot is forced to leave, and then the rest of Big Bang is rewritten as the team trying to save Hardison by 'completing' Eliot's task and stopping the auction if they can, but the main priority is Hardison of course. And all the while, Hardison is trying to escape on his own while maintaining his cover and seeing what he can learn about Damien and Eliot's relationship. (And he's furious at Eliot as in canon.) There's some very tense and subtext-laden conversations between the two of them, since Moreau is likewise probing to learn what is going on with Eliot now. If you wanted to draw this out into a longer and really dark fic we could have the confrontation at the airport happen but Moreau shoots Hardison instead of the Italian, or takes him on the plane, or even forces Eliot to come with him. I'm having a hard time seeing how they would stop the bomb without Hardison as well, so it might actually get sold to someone and they would have to try and track it down later.

Moreau kidnaps Nate and Hardison in San Lorenzo.

In that first conversation where Nate bluffs about the security cameras being able to show them being kidnapped/harmed and that getting out to the rest of the world, Moreau either calls the bluff or makes his own thin pretense of just inviting them over for dinner or some 'friendly' interaction. He couches it as them being offered the greatest possible hospitality, etc.

(If that doesn't work for you, maybe at some point during the election he arranges a "car accident" and then makes sure to keep these injured Americans in the safest hospital getting excellent medical care. Maybe even makes sure it goes out on the news he controls that this one young American tourist needs a risky surgery...)

And then he holds them hostage. In this case he has two hostages, one who has been extremely irritating, and one who he knows Eliot cares about. In any dangerous situation I think he would be more likely to kill Nate first as the warning - and if you go full dark then that is what would happen.

I forsee Parker being a less visible member of the team coming heavily into play in a rescue attempt, probably while Eliot is working for Moreau and doing what he says/distracting him. If Nate gets killed it would happen when Parker is caught trying to help them escape, and then she and Hardison remain as the two hostages. If you don't go that dark then perhaps they fakeout killing Nate with Parker's help, or Moreau still doesn't want to risk his death with the election so he tries to hold them all.

Sophie tries to keep the election going, but without Hardison they aren't going to win. It's only a matter of time, rapidly running out, and the closer they get to that loss with no clear way to save them the more and more likely Eliot is to genuinely go turn himself in, legitimately work for Moreau again to try to save them.

In either scenario, I do not think Moreau would let it last terribly long before trying to kill them all. He knows that Eliot isn't going to forgive something like this and keeping a constant hostage is way too risky to be his M.O. But there's definitely a good chance that Eliot would kill people for him again if he had to, to keep them safe. The team found a way around it in the Big Bang Job, but without them able to help him, if genuinely doing the deed is the only way to keep them safe, then Eliot would do it I think.

I kind of love Parker saving the day and maybe even having a confrontational moment with Moreau. Or Hardison figuring out a way to get himself out/damage Moreau's plans while in captivity (he was canonically the reason they could beat the guy, because he underestimated Hardison). But going further AU and having Parker and Hardison being the captives is just horribly brutal and I do love it. You could play it as happening after they have him locked up, down the line when they all think he is completely taken care of. He somehow bribes his way out, gets his 'crimes' disproven or swept under the rug, whatever, and then comes after the team who took him down before. Once they are out of the way he can safely climb the ranks again. That could lead to him getting both Parker and Hardison, and sending Eliot (with other goons) to kill Nate and Sophie.

This kind of thing would be too long and painful for me to write, at least the way I wind up picturing it, but it's such a great painful premise! I would love to see you (or anyone who wants to honestly) take a stab at it!

#leverage #leverage fic #damien moreau #eliot spencer #fic prompts #anonymous #replies

27 notes · View notes

maraudersftw · 4 years

Note

“Why is arson always your first answer?”

This turned into more Evans/Lupin brotp than Jily. Oops?

Pranking Pranksters

“Think he suspects anything yet?”

“What do you take us for, Evans? Amateurs?” Sirius whispers in affront, rolling his eyes at her, “We’ve been doing this for years.”

“I’m very well aware. I’m just saying Remus is smarter than the rest of us put together.”

“That might’ve been true if you hadn’t counted yourself in with us,” James pokes her teasingly with the tip of his wand, and she lets out a surprised squeak.

Immediately, Remus’s curious blue eyes tear away from the book he’s reading to look around for the source of the noise.

Cursing softly under their breath, the four sixth-year Gryffindors flatten themselves against the stairwell leading to the boys’ dormitories, hiding from view.

“Did you have to poke her right now, Prongs?” Peter whispers accusingly.

“Sorry,” James runs a hand through his hair, wincing under the weight of the three glares directed at him.

Lily huffs a breath, trying to look exasperated, but unable to properly wipe the smile that tugs on the corner of her lips. She quickly turns away from them with the pretense of checking on Remus again lest they catch her amused expression. “He’s gone back to reading.”

“This is so boring!” Sirius whines, “my legs are falling asleep.”

“It was your idea to begin with.”

“Yes, but I didn’t expect him to be reading his book for a thousand bloody years!”

“That is literally what he does!” James scoffs, “how did you not expect it?”

“Maybe I should set the chair on fire. Incen—”

“No, stop! Put your fucking wand down!” Lily hisses, eyes wide with alarm as she slaps Sirius’s hand away. “Why is arson always your first answer?”

“Because it’s so effective!”

“I don’t think Remus will be well pleased if we endangered his life, Sirius,” says Peter.

“Collateral damage.”

“It isn’t collateral damage if you kill the person whom you’re trying to make happy, you prat,” James says, smacking him gently.

As Sirius goes on a tirade about how he isn’t trying to kill but only scare and that Remus is way too smart to be maimed by something as small as a burning chair and does James even know him at all?, Lily rolls her eyes, pushing off from the wall.

“I’ll go distract him, you get the job done.”

“What? Lily, wait—”

But she’s already descended the stairs, ignoring James’s panicked voice behind her, and makes her way to where her fellow prefect sits by the fireplace, nose still buried in his book.

“Hello, Remus.”

“Lily,” He looks up, smiling pleasantly, “I thought you’d be outside with the girls on this fine day.”

“I just had to finish the transfiguration assignment that’s due tomorrow.”

“In the boys’ dormitories?” A rare smirk flits across his lips; eyes sharp as they challenge her.

“Went to return the book on Advanced Transfiguration that I’d borrowed from James,” She counters, not missing a beat. “You know how rubbish I am at the subject.”

“Hardly,” Remus laughs, closing his book with a snap and giving her his undivided attention. “Maybe not as brilliant as you are in other classes, but not rubbish by any means.”

“You flatter me. We both know James is trouncing me in Transfiguration.”

“Only because McGonagall favors him.”

“Remus Lupin, you take that back! McGonagall loves me.”

“Oh, alright, I’ll accept that James is better,” He chuckles again, shaking his head, “didn’t think I’d ever see the day when you, of all people, would be trying to get me to admit it.”

“Weirder things have happened,” Lily shrugs, unable to keep the blush from stealing across her face at the knowledge that the subject of their conversation is very possibly—most definitely—listening in on every word being spoken. “Hey, would you be interested in taking a walk around the lake?”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” He says easily, getting up from the chair. “Maybe we could stop by the kitchens to see if the house-elves have any chocolate pudding left over from lunch.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The pair of them make their way away from the couches and towards the portrait hole, chatting amicably all the while. Just before Lily steps outside, she turns around to give a swift ‘all-clear’ gesture, knowing that the boys hidden in the stairwell have their eyes trained on them.

“Well, that was rather easy,” she says, turning back to Remus with a smirk once the portrait shuts behind her.

“Tell me about it,” He laughs, “you’d think they’d try to be at least slightly more subtle with their plan. James, Sirius, and Peter, all wanting to stay in and study on a free evening after I invite them to the kitchens? On my birthday? I’m almost ashamed.”

“Well, to be fair, it is you. Rather difficult to plan a surprise party when you know them so well.”

“Which is why they solicited your help, no doubt.”

“And yet, you got to me first,” Lily grumbles, looking almost put off, “I feel rather guilty about tricking them. They’re only trying to make your birthday more fun, you know.”

“Now, now, Lily, remember that you were my mate first,” Remus grins happily, draping an arm across her shoulder as they make their way down the third flight of stairs, “besides, I’m rather terrible at pretending I don’t know what they’re up to. Didn’t want to ruin their plan by being obnoxiously aware.”

“You’re not terrible at anything, and you know it,” She laughs, “In fact, I’m certain now more than ever that you’re the worst of the lot.”

“I’m hurt,” he says, but goes and ruins the sentiment by laughing along with her, “those are baseless assumptions meant to tarnish the name of a good man.”

“There you have it; you with your big words and innocent eyes. No one ever suspects you!”

“Says you! Remind me again who’s the double agent amongst the two of us?”

“Touché,” she sighs, “just remember to tell the boys that I was under your Imperius Curse if the truth ever comes out.”

“You have a Marauder’s word.”

#asks #claudia answers #prompts #claudia writes #claudiawrites #jily #jily fic #jily drabble #Lily/Remus brotp #Evans/Lupin brotp #theroomofreq #pranking pranksters #ao3

81 notes · View notes

pengychan · 3 years

Text

[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt 22

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[All chapters up are tagged as ‘fake priest au’ on my blog.]

A/N: Well, both the events in this chapter and the update were a long time coming. I promise you won't have to wait nearly as much for the next update. I am not sure that is a good thing.

Art is by @lunaescribe and @swanpit

***

Later on, if he’d been in a joking mood - and he most definitely wouldn’t be - Ernesto may have joked that while many were saved by the bell, he was quite literally saved by the bull. Namely, by an especially unimpressive bull who seemed to be unsure as to what to do around a cow, no matter how absolutely eager said cow was to answer nature’s call.

“González wants us to go all the way to his farm and bless a bull, am I understanding this correctly?”

Juan spoke with about as much contempt as he was able to fit into each word, which was a fair lot of contempt. As Ernesto coughed into his hand to hide a laugh, Sofía shrugged.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, Padre. I am simply relaying the message González sent.”

The gringo scoffed, reaching up to rub his forehead. “Does he believe the church to be a joke, that he can call upon us to give a blessing to a bull who believes itself an ox?”

Ernesto chuckled. “Well, to be fair - don’t look at me like that, hear me out! A bull that cannot mount cows is a problem to anyone who makes a living out of their cattle. And the poor hombre spent a lot of his savings on that bull, so if it cannot do its job, that’s a loss he may not recover from anytime soon.”

His words seemed to make Juan marginally less offended, but the frown on his face did not entirely fade. “It still seems rather brazen, asking the church to get involved in such-- matters, Ern-- Father Ernest.”

“Desperate men will ask for any help they can get. Things have not been going all that well for anyone lately. And he does provide milk for the children in our care on Sundays,” Ernesto added, and mentally patted himself on the back when Juan’s scowl softened another fraction.

“... Fair enough. He has shown charity, at least. I cannot entirely fault him for being ignorant of what is and is not beneath the notice of God,” he declared. Behind him, Sofía pointed at her mouth and pretended to gag. Ernesto bit the inside of his cheek to remain serious, but any inclination to smile faded when Juan spoke again. “Well then, I suppose you may go and give this bull your blessing.”

Wait, what?

“Wait, what? Me?” he protested. That was not a turn of events he had expected: the gringo knew any blessing he may give was entirely worthless, and-- ah, the pendejo. That was probably the point, giving González some peace of mind without anyone really giving God’s blessing to an impotent bull.

Juan met his gaze with a raised brow, and for a moment Ernesto could have sworn he’d seen the barest hint of an amused glint in his eye. It almost distracted him from the broad grin on Sofía’s face as she watched the scene. Some friend she was.

The gringo nodded, folding his hands. “You spoke of this man’s plight with such fervor, it seems fair I let you go help him - if anything for his peace of mind.”

Ernesto groaned. To say the González farm was out of the way was an understatement: it was quite a way beyond the first hill south of Santa Cecilia. Truth be told, they tended to consider it part of Santa Cecilia only because it was no closer to any other village, and the family attended Mass and the market each week without fail.

“But it’s almost an hour each way!”

“Two hours, most likely,” the gringo replied with a serene smile. Now the amused glint was… a lot more obvious. Oh, that bastard--! “Doctor Sanchéz borrowed the horse to send his assistant to buy some medical supplies in San Luz. You may have the donkey, though. Don’t push the poor beast, you know it’s elderly. If you get going now, you should make it back by sundown,” he added, making Ernesto rather wish he could grab the closest chair and slap him with it.

“But I-- I mean, surely it is not that urgent--” he tried to backpedal. He really was not looking forward to several hours riding a donkey under the merciless summer sun. Maybe on another day he could get a horse, or ride with the González family’s cart next time they--

“You should definitely be the one to go, Padre Ernesto. You have such a glowing track record with fertility blessings,” Sofía quipped, causing Ernesto to nearly choke on his spit and any words he’d been about to utter to die in his throat.

Entirely unaware of the meaning behind Sofía’s words - if rather taken aback to see one of the sisters taking his side over Ernesto’s in a discussion - Juan nodded. “See, Sister Sophie agrees,” he said, with a decisive nod that made it clear the matter was sealed.

Sofía grinned. Ernesto forced a smile. Oh, he thought, I am going to kill her.

“... Of course. I will be happy to,” he spoke through gritted teeth. Sofía took that as her cue to disappear out of the door with one last grin in his general direction. As the door closed, he allowed himself to groan, no longer having to keep up the pretense of keeping up the pretense in front of Sofía. “Bastardo,” he muttered.

Juan clicked his tongue, wagging a finger at him. “Language,” he chided. “If it is of any comfort, this also means you will be spared Latin for the day.”

“Does this mean you’ll make me study through the night once I’m back?” Ernesto grumbled, and the gringo gave a startlingly sincere laugh. Those had always been rare to come by, even more so after he learned the truth about him. Ernesto’s annoyance faded a little, and just a little.

“Hah! I thought about it, to be entirely sincere, but no.” He stood, giving his arm a light pat. “I will not put you through it tonight, either. We’ll both get to sleep.”

Somehow, he was both absolutely right and disastrously wrong at the same time.

***

Just as a very disgruntled Ernesto de la Cruz disappeared down the first hill south of the village on the back of an elderly donkey, Commander Santiago Hernández rode up the first hill north of the village at the head of a column of sweaty, angry men.

Fewer men than he’d have liked, truth be told. They had succeeded in pushing through the territories under the control of Zapatistas, but resistance had been fierce and their advance hadn’t been without sacrifices. The oppressive heat and the talk going around - they were losing the war, Huerta was going to fall any day now - did nothing to improve morale.

But they had made through the worst, the scum who’d planned to ambush them had been tricked into waiting for them somewhere else entirely, and they had almost reached Santa Cecilia - where they would take supplies and some fresh recruits to replace their fallen comrades. Those things were occasionally offered, far more likely taken, but it did not matter. The end result was the same, and he let his men deal with it.

What he usually kept himself occupied with was taking a very good look at every man he could find and asking everyone if a-- deserter traitor murderer -- man called Ernesto de la Cruz had sought refuge among them. He’d been lucky until then, evading detection, but his luck wouldn’t last forever, Santiago was certain of it. He didn’t allow himself to think he may be forever beyond his reach.

If only I had a photograph of that traitor, Santiago thought, not for the first time, but he chased away the thought. He did not have one; his name and a description was all that he had to work with, and it would have to do.

Santiago frowned, and spurred his horse the last few yards of the way to the top of the hill. He stopped his horse, allowing himself to breathe in the faint breeze caressing his face.

Below him, in the merciless heat of a summer afternoon, lay Santa Cecilia.

***

If only he hadn’t been asleep, Miguel would think later, they would have never caught him.

Granted, a tree branch is not a great place to take a nap. He wasn’t supposed to be asleep, they were playing hide and seek and he was really determined to win that round, so he’d climbed up a large tree at the base of a hill.

It was a really good hiding place, because the branches were wide enough for him to sit comfortably, back against the trunk, while the leaves beneath him hid him from sight. They hid him so well that he got bored of waiting to be found or for Felipe to give up, and he eventually dozed off.

At least until he was startled awake by shouts and rancorous laughter, and the steady clap of more horse hooves than he’d ever heard at once. Somehow, he had enough presence of mind to understand who it had to be - Federales! - but not nearly enough to remember he just so happened to be on top of a tree branch when he tried to stand up to run back and warn everyone.

“Aaaagh!” Miguel fell with a cry, hit a branch on his way down, and somehow managed to grab onto another before he had a very unpleasant meeting with the ground below. There were yells somewhere below him, and he knew he had been spotted.

“Oye!”

“What the-- what are you doing up there, muchacho?”

“Odd bird, that!”

“Oh, bet I can get him down with one shot…”

“What?”

“Hey now, it’s just a kid--”

“A lookout, more like, and there may be more.”

“Put that pistol down, Mendoza, or God be my witness you’ll hang from that branch!”

A voice rose over all the others, and the entire world seemed to go quiet. Miguel looked down, still reeling. A dozen men on horses were a short distance away from the tree, including a squat man quickly lowering a pistol, and more were coming down the hill. The men’s eyes were not on Miguel, however: they were looking at a tall, slender man with a closely trimmed mustache as he spurred his horse to walk beneath the branch Miguel was hanging from. Not a huge drop, but more than he’d like to risk.

“That doesn’t seem comfortable, niño,” he said, and it was only then that Miguel realized the thundering order not to shoot had come from him.

I was almost shot. They almost shot me, Miguel thought. His blood ran cold, and he suddenly understood why Ernesto had been so scared. He’d always known, of course, but seeing them up close - finding how quickly a soldier could joke about shooting a child off a branch like ripe fruit - suddenly made it so real.

It could get me killed, Miguel, Ernesto had said. You must never say it aloud again.

“I… I was…”

“Keeping an eye out for us to come, all the way out here?” the man, clearly someone in command, asked. His voice was cold and Miguel swallowed, still holding onto the branch for dear life. If he so much reached up from atop his horse, he could pull him down by the legs.

“N-no, señor,” he managed, his voice so small. “I... we were playing hide and seek. I hid.”

The man’s cold gaze remained fixed on him for a moment more, then it seemed to soften. “Well, if you hadn’t fallen, I wouldn’t have known you were even there,” he said, and smiled.

It was not an insincere smile, Miguel would think later, but there was something so fundamentally broken about it that he felt all the sweat on his skin had suddenly turned into frost. But at least, he thought, he’d stopped one of his men from shooting him dead. Was it because he balked at the idea of murdering a boy in cold blood? Was it because he thought there may be an ambush and a shot may alert anyone laying in wait of their presence? Miguel would never know, and at the moment he had no time to think about it. The man moved his horse closer, and held out his arm.

“Come then, your arms look ready to give out,” he said. “We’ll take you back to your village.”

No, no, no. Keep away from there. Keep away from Santa Cecilia.

Miguel swallowed again, his own heartbeat thudding in his ears. “I…” he began, but he could think of nothing to say, and his arms finally did give out. The man caught him, his grip surprisingly strong for someone so slender, and pulled him to sit astride his horse as well. Miguel held onto the mane with shaky hands, looking down. He found himself thinking of the day he and Ernesto had met, when he’d saved him from the stream and let him ride on his horse - except that then he’d been elated, and now he was just terrified.

Please God, make them go away. Make them go away without hurting anyone.

“... Gracias,” he murmured, mostly to try and not anger him, and the man let out a noise that seemed almost a chuckle as he spurred the horse into moving again. He shouted an order for his men to get moving again, entirely ignored Miguel’s wince, and spoke again.

“And what is your name, niño?”

“Miguel,” he mumbled. His throat felt like sandpaper, but the soldier kept talking like he hadn't noticed, or did not care, that the hands clenching the horse’s mane were shaking.

“Just Miguel?”

“Sí.”

“Very well, Just Miguel. I’m Commander Santiago Hernández.” His tone was light, but the grip on the reins was tight, the arms at either side of Miguel unyielding. “So, hide and seek? With friends?”

“S-Sí.”

“A good hiding place. I was never much good at hiding when I was your age. Alberto always found me. Now I am the one doing the searching for him.”

Miguel blinked, confusion overriding the fear for a moment. He craned his neck to look back. “Searching?” he repeated. The man’s gaze was like steel, but as he looked down it softened… only a moment. Then the coldness was back, and something in the pit of Miguel’s stomach twisted. He looked away again.

“For traitors. For one in particular, but any traitor will do.” A brief pause. “You seem like a smart boy,” he added, but Miguel didn’t feel smart at the moment. He only felt so stupid for just falling in the Federales’ hands as he had and so very, very scared.

“I-- try to be.”

“You know many people in the village?”

Nearly everyone, but he knew better than to say it. Maybe he had some smarts left, after all. “A few. Not all that many, the Sisters keep us in the church,” he added, hoping it would make a good excuse. To his relief, Commander Hernández hummed in understanding.

“Ah, nuns. I know what you mean. Does the name Ernesto de la Cruz ring any bells to you?”

Oh. Oh, no. Oh God, no.

It could get me killed, Miguel. You must never say it aloud again.

Miguel’s eyes stung with tears, but he was able to keep his voice from shaking too much as he spoke. “No, señor. I don’t think it does.”

“Are you certain? He is a deserter, and a dangerous man. A murderer. It is best for everyone that he is found and taken care of, don’t you agree? If he is here, your village is in danger.”

We are in danger now. If he finds him, he’ll kill him. If he knows we hid him, he’ll kill us all.

“Then I hope you find him,” Miguel managed, fighting back more tears while he watched the first houses of Santa Cecilia drawing closer as the column of men entered the main road in.

***

“... I still can’t believe we each thought the other was the one leaving behind the instructions.”

“Heh. And to think I knew your handwriting is better than… that.”

“Likewise. But I imagined you may have tried to disguise yours.” Imelda frowned a little, emptying the donation box into the basket - not a lot, few had much to give those days, but it would do and keep the poor fed - before returning it to its place. “It still irks me that we don’t know who it was.”

Héctor chuckled. “Maybe it was Cheech all along,” he said, knowing full well that despite being somehow able to read music sheets, the old gravedigger was damn near illiterate. Which was exactly the point Imelda made next.

“Chicharrón doesn’t know how to write anything but his name, Juanita’s, and a few choice words he had the bad taste of teaching my brothers,” she muttered, then she paused, and raised an eyebrow. “... What is it?”

“Uuuuh,” Héctor managed, mind entirely blank of anything he had been thinking. Their church was small and not much to write home about, but it did have one stained glass window thanks to a glassworker who had died almost twenty years prior and who had made it to thank God for saving the life of his son after a bad accident with an angry pig.

A claim doctor Sanchéz had hotly debated, that, considering that it had been him and not Jesus Christ to painstakingly sew torn flesh back together and throw iodine into any open wound, but his protests had been mostly ignored and their humble church now had a beautiful stained glass window, letting in soft light that made Imelda look like an angel straight out of-- well, no. Angels in the Bible were the things nightmares are made of, so not that.

But God, she really was the most lovely being in all creation.

A moment of silence, and then the most lovely being in all creation tilted her head on one side. “... Are you well? You look--”

“Beautiful,” Héctor blurted out, and Imelda let out a chuckle, a smile curling her lips.

“Well, I’ll admit you are a sight for sore eyes…”

Wait, what? Héctor shook his head, taken aback. “Wha-- no, not me. I mean, you. You-- beautiful,” he stammered.

The songwriter, señores y señoras.

As his face made a valiant attempt at reaching the same temperature as the sun, Imelda laughed. “I know what you meant,” she said, and the smile on her face widened just a little. She reached to take his hand, and Héctor let her pull him closer as though in a dream. “I think I can get used to hearing you say that. Once this is all over.”

Ah-- ah, of course. Yes. Once this was all over, and Hurta and his Federales were gone, he would ask her to marry him, and she would say yes, and they would leave the Church - only to return for their wedding to be officiated, and… and…

The thought of seeing Imelda in her best Sunday dress standing beneath that same window, as his bride, made Héctor’s heart skip a beat. Imelda let go of his hand, and he immediately reached to cup her face.

You may now kiss the bride.

“I’ll tell you every day,” he promised. Oh they were so close, and alone in the empty chapel. Or rather under the eyes of God, but Héctor felt no shame over it. God would understand, and if He didn’t-- well, it didn’t matter. “Starting now.”

The coy expression on Imelda’s face had faded a little, her lips parting. She placed her hand on his arm, but didn’t try to push him away. Héctor dared lean in, she tilted her face up, and her eyes fluttered close, and--

“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME!”

“Gah!”

Héctor and Imelda came apart with a yelp, and turned towards the source of the voice. Said source was marching up towards them as though filled with the wrath of God, face somehow even paler than usual and eyes ablaze. “Brother Héctor! What is the meaning of this?”

Oh God. Face quickly turning a deep shade of purple, Héctor cleared his throat. By his side Imelda looked down in a way that may have looked demure, if not for the way the corners of her mouth curled upwards despite everything. It made Héctor struggle to keep himself from laughing.

“Padre Ju-- I mean, Father John!” he exclaimed with a wide smile, hands clasped together. “I can explain.”

“Oh?” The gringo came to a stop in front of him with a huff, arms crossed full of judgment for someone who had been doing… the kind of thing Ernesto claimed they had been doing. “Then please, do explain yourselves!”

“Well…”

“Oh, I’m curious to hear this one,” another voice rang out, insufferably smug and awfully familiar. Héctor looked past the gringo to see Gustavo leaning on one of the front pews, a grin on his face. Had it been him to tell Padre Juan that he and Imelda were alone in the chapel? Of course it had been him, he only needed a look at his face to know it. That cabrón--!

Héctor opened his mouth to tell Gustavo exactly what he thought of him, but before he could spew out a series of expletives that would have probably resulted in his excommunication from the Roman Catholic Church, the chapel’s door was thrown open and someone ran in screaming. Felipe.

“Federales!” he cried out, skidding to a halt on the polished floor. He was panting, hair sticking out in all directions and glasses askew, the sling holding up his broken arm having left an angry red mark on the side of his neck. “The Federales are here!”

Héctor’s blood ran cold and, for a moment, no one moved or spoke. All four adults stared at the panting boy, stunned incredulity on each of their faces.

Just when it was beginning to look like Huerta is done for. Just when we thought we may have escaped them entirely.

“Impossible!” Gustavo almost cried out, reaching to grab the boy by the shoulder. “They can’t be here! They were going to go through San Luz!”

How would you know?, Héctor thought, but he didn’t get to voice the question. The next moment Imelda was no longer by his side: she pushed past a still silent Father John to tear her brother from Gustavo’s grasp, and look at him in the eye.

“Where is Óscar?” she asked, fear plain in her voice. Her horror seemed to grow when Felipe swallowed and shook his head.

“I-- I don’t know. They’re at the plaza, rounding up people--”

“What do you mean, you don’t know! You’re always together!” Imelda crouched before him, even though he was already taller than her. She looked like she was begging him for a different answer. “Do you know where he may be? He needs to go home. He needs to hide.”

“No, I-- we were playing hide and seek, and Miguel--” Felipe let out a shaky breath and looked over at Héctor, eyes huge behind his glasses. “Héctor, their leader has Miguel.”

No. No, no, no, no, no. Not Miguel. Please.

The world around Héctor seemed to fade for a moment, and he seriously thought he may be about to faint; his ears were buzzing and his tongue felt too large. Children were not spared in that war, the Federles would take anyone who could hold a gun and make them fight.

I’ll fight. I’ll go. Just please, not Miguel.

“Very well then.” Father John’s voice rang out, impossibly calm, the full weight of his authority behind it. They all turned to look back at him as though puppets pulled by the same string. His hands were clasped tightly together, his mouth pulled in a thin line; a grim resolve was etched on his every feature. “It seems I need to speak to their leader, then. Philip, you go home. I will handle this.”

Gustavo groaned, rubbing his face. “With all due respect, Padre,” he said, everything in his tone making it clear he didn’t think the respect he was due was all that much, “it may be best you don’t try to confront them.”

“How come?”

“They have a bone to pick with Americans after Veracruz. More than everyone else, I mean.”

The resolve on the gringo’s face did not waver. “Surely, the cloth I wear will mean something to them.”

“Well… I suppose, at least for some, but they don’t love the Church all that much…”

“Then it will have to do.” Father John turned to Héctor and Imelda, who was still kneeling before her brother. “... Do ensure the children here are safe. Your brother may already be safe, if he saw them coming. Philip, you go home. I will do all I can to… smooth things over.”

You were never able to smooth things over with any Mexican ever, Héctor thought, but didn’t get to say as much aloud. The gringo turned and marched out of the church, immediately followed by Gustavo, who was probably thinking someone should make sure he didn’t mess it up too badly. Too bad he was probably the second worst pick for the job. Or the third, if they counted in Cheech. As they walked off, Imelda looked back at her brother.

“... Keep to the back roads, and go straight home. Maybe Óscar is already there. Go out back, through the sacristy - quick!”

Felipe disappeared at the back, and Imelda turned to look at Héctor. She was pale as ash, but her jaw was set; all the terror that had filled her moments earlier had been pushed back. “... I’ll tell Sofía to try and hide the supplies in the basement as well as she can. I’ll go gather all the boys and bring them back to the orphanage. You… you get Miguel away from them.”

“I…” A shaky breath, and Héctor nodded. “Do you think… what if they’re looking for Ernesto?”

“Then thank God he’s all the way out there to bless a bull. We’ll all tell the truth - none of us knows anyone called Ernesto de la Cruz.”

“If someone mentions a Padre Ernesto…”

“It’s a common enough name, and no one would think a deserter and our parish priest are the same person. His plan may have really been stupid enough to work.” She squeezed his arm. “Now think of nothing but Miguel. I’ll see you both later.” A pause. “I love you.”

Héctor swallowed, and leaned for a quick brush of the lips before he tore himself away from her and ran down the church and outside, down the steps, heart hammering in his throat and only one thought in mind: find Miguel, and keep him safe.

Whatever it takes.

***

“No one move, and no one will be harmed.”

Santiago’s voice rose over the plaza, met with almost complete silence from the people of Santa Cecilia - or at least those among them they had caught outside, at what looked like their weekly market - and seemingly went unheard by his men, who were busy taking as much as they could from the stands full of food and produce. Santiago did not try to stop them; they were fighting for Mexico, after all, and taking supplies was well within their rights.

If anyone was unhappy with that, they were smart enough not to voice it.

“I am looking for a deserter,” Santiago spoke again, circling the small crowd, still atop his horse. The boy, Miguel, sat frozen before him. Part of him, the man he had been before the war, felt sorry for the situation he was in, but the much colder man he had become, the one who had survived this far, knew it was a matter of practicality.

Having one of their kids on the horse with him made it… less likely for anyone to think of doing anything rash, such as pointing a gun in his general direction; it was a lesson he had learned after a bullet shot from a window had grazed at his right temple, leaving behind a rather unsightly scar.

Sorry, muchacho. I cannot afford to die. Not until Alberto is avenged.

“His name is Ernesto de la Cruz,” Santiago spoke the name loud and clear, so that all in the plaza could hear. “A large man, doesn’t go unnoticed. Black hair, brown eyes,” he added, painfully aware of how vague that was. “He had a beard, but he may have shaved it off. He is a murderer who did not hesitate to shoot a man in the back, and he’s dangerous. He needs to be put down as the rabid dog he is. If any of you is harboring him, you are not only committing treason - you are putting yourselves and your village at risk. So I ask you all--”

A sudden cry cut him off, followed by a laugh and a man’s furious voice. “Hey! Get your hands off-- agh!”

“Javier! No!”

Santiago turned to the source of the disturbance, as did the rest of the nervous crowd. A glance was enough to tell what had happened: one of his soldiers was still brandishing his rifle like a club, standing above a young man bleeding from the mouth while a girl with a torn blouse knelt over him, crying. He sighed. “... Mendoza. What did I tell you all about what you are and are not allowed to take from the towns we pass through?”

A grin. “Not my fault, Commander. This one was giving me the eyes. You know what I mean, no?”

Santiago gave him a frosty smile. “I understand. It has been a long march, hasn’t it? I believe you have dropped some cartridges.”

“Huh?” Mendoza looked down, searching for cartridges on the dusty ground. Santiago pulled out his pistol. “Cover your ears, muchacho. And close your eyes,” he told Miguel, and did not wait to see if he’d obeyed: he just lifted his pistol, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

There were a few cries, mostly covered by the loud bang, but Mendoza made no noise: he was thrown to the ground and jerked just once before he lay still. As those closer to the body tried to shift away without making themselves targets, Santiago put the pistol back and turned his gaze around, to his other men, who had stilled and were staring back in silence.

“I trust you will need no more reminders to keep your hands to yourselves,” he said. Miguel was shaking on the saddle, hands on his ears. Santiago gave his head a reassuring pat before turning his horse to the side, so that the boy didn’t have the body in his line of sight. “Now - do any of you have any knowledge of the whereabouts of Ernesto de la Cruz?”

As the soldiers around them resumed taking all the supplies they could take, he stared at the face of every villager. They all avoided his gaze, and they all shook their heads. Santiago scowled, anger beginning to stir in his chest. So he wasn’t there, either? Had he once again failed to find him? Where had that bastardo gone?

“We need men, and any men we need we will take!” he screamed, circling them once again, and gesturing for some of his men to leave the plaza and search the houses around them for anyone trying to hide. Young children held onto their mothers’ gown, elderly people huddled together, women held onto the arm of grown men, and somehow that just infuriated him more. They looked at him like he was a monster, but it was all wrong. He was hunting for a monster.

He was doing his duty, fighting for Mexico, risking his life - seen his friends die - and he’d even just protected one of theirs from his own man. Why did they look at him like that? What right did they have? How dare they? “If he is here, hand him over and none of yours will be taken! If you’re hiding him, you will all regret it!”

“Oh, quit yelling, will you!” a voice suddenly snapped. “There is no one by that name here. Now let the kid go.”

Santiago turned his horse, and found himself glaring down at a short, squat old man with a peg leg and a scowl on his face. “Cheech--” Miguel began, his voice shaking, but the man silenced him with a wave of his hand.

“Grownups are talking,” he muttered, and looked back at Santiago. “Listen, we got no deserter here. No one moved in recently, and there are three Ernestos in all of Santa Cecilia. One is old enough to have been at Montezuma’s court, the other is a cobbler wider than he’s tall, and the third is a priest. There is no one called de la Cruz. If the man you’re looking for was here, we’d hand him over in a heartbeat to save our own. I know I would.”

That was true, and Santiago knew it; it was the reason behind his offer, after all. He had grown up in a village much like that one, and he knew how close-knit the community was. The choice between the safety of a newcomer and that of their own people was no choice at all. Still-- ah, it was infuriating. He kept slipping through the net, people looked at him like he was the monster, and it was all wrong. He had left home with Alberto trying to do the right thing. They had wanted to be heroes. Now Beto was dead, Nando was dead, and he… he...

If you think I’m the monster, then I intend to deserve it.

“... Very well,” Santiago sneered, and dropped a heavy hand on Miguel’s shoulder, causing him to wince. “We need thirty able men. Twenty-nine, as it seems I already have a volunteer. Who else will join us and do their duty as Mexicans?”

The old man’s wrinkly face twisted in fury. “Miguel didn’t volunteer for shit!”

“Oh, but he did. Here he is, no? Boys younger than him have fought for the glory of Mexico. I’ll teach him all he needs to know.”

If looks could kill, Santiago would have probably dropped dead off his horse. He found he did not care - even if in the back of his mind he knew the boy was too young to make a decent soldier, even though part of him balked at the thought of forcing him into the front line. Maybe he would make himself useful as a messenger, something not as dangerous as fighting. Santiago would mull on that later; right now, he had to make a point - what the army needed, the army would take.

Not that the old bastard seemed to care for the point he was trying to make. “He won’t even be able to lift a gun. I know how to shoot. I’ll take his place.”

There were murmurs in the crowd, but Santiago laughed. “You? You’re missing a leg and look like you’re one step away from the grave. I said I need able men--”

“Get off that horse, and I’ll show you just how able--!”

“Commander! A word, if you please!”

A voice called out before Santiago could seriously consider pulling out his pistol and blowing off the idiot’s bald head. It wasn’t just any voice: this one had a strong, distinctive accent. Slowly, he turned back to face the man who had spoken and, for a moment, he thought he must be dreaming.

Before him, clad in black priestly robes, stood a gringo.

***

“Well well, what have we got here?”

Sofía froze, the box full of cartridges still in her arms. She slowly turned to see a soldier of the Federal army at the door, rifle in hand, looking around the cellar.

How in the world had he found his way there? Were there more? Had Imelda managed to get the children to safety on time? Feeling as though her stomach had turned into a block of ice and mentally cursing - she had almost managed to move everything! - Sofía managed to smile. “Good afternoon. I am afraid you may be in the wrong place. This is the parish’s--”

“I am here to requisition supplies,” the man cut her off. “What is in there? Food?”

Well, that was it. She needed to come up with something quickly, because if the man so much caught a glance of what was really in those boxes, she and probably the entirety of the parish would end up before the firing squad before the sun had time to set.

I can’t believe I saved Ernesto’s life by having him sent off to heal a bull’s masculinity.

"These donations are for the house of God to help the poor, I am afraid. I cannot let you take them,” she said in her best apologetic tone. “I am certain you understand, our mission--”

"Move aside."

Ah, so that was how it had to be. "... No."

"It is for the glory of Mexico."

"What of the glory of Heaven?"

"You want to go meet that glory, sister?" The soldier snapped, and raised his rifle so that Sofía could stare right into its barrel. It looked impossibly large, impossibly black. If those men held no respect for the Church, there truly was no defense left. "What about now?"

"... It seems I misspoke."

"Of course you did."

"What I meant to say is, absolutely not. Have you no shame?"

The man glared daggers at her, and Sofía could only hold her breath, praying that he did have at least some reservations over shooting a nun after all. He hesitated, so maybe her gamble had paid off. Maybe she could still find a way--

“Ah, here you are! I thought I had seen one of the heroes of Mexico coming in here!”

Gustavo’s voice caused Sofía to blink and the soldier to turn, rifle up. On the doorway, Gustavo held up his hands with a smile. “No need to shoot, I am here to offer help,” he said, as though having a rifle pointed at his face was not bothering him at all. “As the sister correctly said, these are the supplies for the church - but we do have some food and medical supplies aside I am sure you could use.”

“Hhm. Do you now?”

“Of course. I am the sexton here, and I have been keeping some supplies aside just in case you happened to come through our humble village,” he added. The soldier slowly lowered his rifle, and Sofía blinked. She knew Gustavo was a cabrón, but a supporter of the Federal Army of all things? God, had he been working for them all along? How much did he know--

“Now, sister Sofía, we’ll leave you to finish your good work,” Gustavo added, taking a step towards her and taking her hands. “You were always such a tireless servant of the Church, may God bless you.”

Sofía opened her mouth to ask if he’d hit his head, but promptly shut it when she felt something being pushed against her palm - a folded piece of paper. She looked up and shared a long, serious look with Gustavo before he let go of her hands and led the soldier outside, all smiles and questions about his bravery in battle.

Only once she was alone again, heart hammering in her throat, did Sofía unfold the piece of paper to read the message hastily scribbled on it, in the same handwriting she had seen several times. It looked identical to the one in the instructions Imelda had been receiving for months, coordinating their help to the revolutionaries and their cause.

Once they have left, ring the bell to a death toll and don’t stop. Help will come. Tell them to follow the trail. They’ll know.

***

Truth be told, Father John Johnson knew he had very few chances of succeeding.

Gustavo was right: Americans were particularly hated since their attack on Veracruz, and there was little love between Huerta loyalists and the Catholic Church. However, most if not all those men had been raised to go to Mass, and respect God’s servants; the presence of a priest still inspired at least some measure of deference, if the way the soldiers moved aside to let him pass was anything to go by.

And within moments it was obvious, just from the furious glare he received, that the cloth he wore was the only reason why their commander hadn’t shot him on sight.

“What is a gringo doing here?” the man scoffed, and moved the horse to tower over John. Gripping the horse’s mane, Miguel looked down at him with wide, terrified eyes; John gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile and looked back up at the commander.

“I serve at this village’s parish,” he said, his voice quiet. “Most call me Padre Juan. I am here to see if there is anything I may do to assist you, and protect my flock at the same time. Certainly an arrangement can be made.” Anything, he thought, anything to save my flock.

The commander scowled. “Protecting them is what we have been doing all along,” he snapped. Around them soldiers were dragging in more men and boys they must have torn out of their homes, forcing them in the plaza, separating all men from the women, the elderly, and children too young to hold a rifle. A few people cried out, but most were silent and still under the threat of firearms. “It is time they do their part for their country. This war may have been over already if not for your kind, sticking your nose in places where it doesn’t belong!”

John drew a long breath. “I do understand. The attack against Veracruz was unfortunate--”

“THE ATTACK AGAINST VERACRUZ WAS SLAUGHTER!” the man screamed suddenly, causing John to wince - but he did not turn, did not flee. He couldn’t, no more than the shepherd can run from the flock and leave it at the mercy of wolves. There was something in his voice that went beyond anger, raw and full of pain.

“... It was. I pray for all the lives lost that day, that God may take them in his glory,” he said, bowing his head. “Anything I may do would be a drop in the ocean, but if there is anything you require of me-- please, do tell me.”

The man paused, seemingly taken aback by the humble response. The scowl remained etched on his face, but the fury in his eyes burned a little less brightly. After a brief silence, during which one could hear a pin drop across the plaza, he spoke again.

“... You said you serve this parish. You must have heard confessions. Know everything about everyone.”

“I do, sir.”

“Do you have any knowledge of a man called Ernesto de la Cruz hiding nearby?”

Ernesto.

A cold, cold hand grasped John’s hand, and squeezed. He wanted to scream, to cry, to curse at the choice put before him - one he had hoped he would never have to make. He was relieved he had sent him away at a distant farm; he was horrified he may now have to be the one to give him away. Would that man be sated, if he got his hands on him? Would he leave the rest of Santa Cecilia alone? Could he trade the life of one for the lives of many?

There is no place in Mexico that is safe, Ernesto had said. I’m done for the moment you speak.

If the Federal army finds me, I’ll hang.

For all the turmoil in his soul, John managed to let nothing show. He looked up again, hands clasping together. “This man’s crimes must have been grievous--”

“He is a deserter, and he murdered a man far better than himself to escape.” The pain was in the commander’s voice again, a bleeding, open wound. “He must hang for it.”

They won’t give me the kindness of making it a clean fall with a broken neck, he’d said.

“... I see,” John said, and drew in a deep breath. He let his gaze wander around, across the faces of the men gathered by the soldiers - oh Lord, young Óscar was among them, eyes wide and scared behind his glasses - as he silently begged forgiveness from each of them. Anything to save his flock, he’d sworn to himself and to God, but this - this he could not do. Ernesto was of his flock too, the lost sheep. Whatever the consequences, they would be his own to live with.

Finally, he looked up again to meet Miguel’s gaze - and to his utter astonishment, Miguel met his gaze… and shook his head, so slightly.

Don’t tell him.

He knows.

Shock was almost great enough to make John lose his composure, but just almost. He sighed, and shook his head. "I am sorry, commander," he heard himself saying, his own voice distant. "I know no man by such name."

All at once, any humanity that has seemed to have returned to the man’s eyes was gone. “I see. Well, thank you for your useless intervention. Twenty-nine more men!” he screamed, turning to the soldiers. He turned his horse and John acted out on instinct, reaching up to grab the reins.

“Miguel is only a child!” John exclaimed, holding onto the reins despite the commander’s effort to tear it from his grasp. Only a child who reminded him of another he’d been forced to leave behind so long ago.

Michael was so young, I don’t know if he even remembers me. I don’t even know if they’re all still alive. It’s been so long.

But Miguel was there, alive, in need of help. “He’s only nine - and the boy over there with the glasses - they are still too young for this war. In God’s name--”

“God cares not for what happens here! Go preach to someone else, gringo! Let go!”

“For your own soul, if not for their lives! They’re children!”

“Let go, or I’ll shoot the boy in the head right now!”

“You monster! What sort of beast--”

“ENOUGH!”

There was the gleam of metal in the sun, a deafening bang, and screams. A terrible force knocked John back in the dust, tearing all breath out of his lungs. The sun filled his eyes for just a moment, impossibly bright, before cobwebs of darkness clouded his vision. He felt a terrible heat, something filling his mouth and soaking through his clothes. Thoughts ran through his mind like galloping horses, disjointed and increasingly muddled.

Is this it? Is it the end?

I will never see them again.

I am going to Hell, aren’t I?

Oh thank God, thank God he didn’t shoot him.

More cries, and a voice above all others, crying out Miguel’s name, full of the anguish only a father can feel. Hector's voice.

I am sorry, John tried to say, but all that left him was a gurgling sound. I couldn’t do it.

Yet even now, as he slipped out of consciousness, as he begged for God’s forgiveness and for those boys’ safety, he knew he could not regret his choice to give Ernesto a chance to save himself. If it cost him Hell, so be it. He would take the punishment.

Keep them safe, John begged without words, and dropped his head on the cobblestones, letting himself fall into nothingness as the screams around him faded into silence.

***

[Back]

[Next]

***

A/N: Have some additional art by @whattimeisitintokyo to, uh, lighten up the mood, I guess?

#pixar coco #ernesto de la cruz #hector rivera #imelda rivera #miguel rivera #coco #fake priest au

40 notes · View notes

skvaderarts · 3 years

Text

Devil May Cry OC Week Day 4!

I’m actually really excited for @dmc-oc-week day for because it gives me the opportunity to talk about Sirrus without delving into spoilers! Yay loopholes!

This contains slight spoilers, but nothing super important. Just keep that in mind. it won’t effect anything, but if you want to go in totally blind, tread carefully.

Dislikes:

Note: if your wondering why I did dislikes first, it’s because that’s just how Sirrus is lol! He’s not a downer, but he likes to think of himself as a realist, but he’s slightly closer to being a pragmatic nihilist, and that lack of optimism lingers in his day to day life because he’s naturally going to have his guard up at all times. He can’t be disappointed if his expectations are nonexistent. Big mood, Sirrus.

1. His father. As previously mentioned, Sirrus is not on good terms with his father. At all. In fact, he’s actively waiting for his father’s hubris to catch up to him along with some of the enemies he’s made along the way so that he himself doesn’t have to confront him and possible end him because he knows he has it coming, but he doesn’t have it in him to do it himself. He’s probably powerful enough, but he just doesn’t have the heart. Despite everything, he’s still got a small ounce of compassion in his heart towards his father that he can’t let go of, something that he loathes about himself. It’s pretty unhealthy.

2. People that abuse power, authority, or social standing. This is actually a large issue in his own immediate family, and that’s part of why his dislike for it is so powerful. He genuinely believes that you should positively contribute to the lives of others if you have the means to, and if nothing else, that you should not detract from them. As a result, he’s developed a dislike of a large portion of people in power because, I mean, fair enough. But his family does not escape this designation, and that’s a large part of why he does what he does. Not because he believes he has superior judgement or standing over others, but because he cannot solve a problem that he does not understand. So as a result, he has to go out into the field and learn from those his work effects. Assuming that he knows what’s best for everyone while simultaneously never having met those people is literally what he hates most about most people in positions of power, and he strives to not do the same. Being powerful doesn’t mean that your smart, and he knows that first hand. I feel like Sirrus would be into the “eat the rich” thing if it was a thing in the DMC universe. Very into it.

3. His mother. I feel like this one may come as a bit of a surprise to some of you who know more about him from the fic since he’s literally only mentioned her once, and doesn’t speak of her in any broad sense, but Sirrus isn’t on the best of terms with his mother, either. He doesn’t harbor any negativity towards them for splitting up when he was young. In fact, he considers it the best thing that either of them has probably ever done. But he has his reasons for not being on good terms with him mom. Day 6 will cover family and background, so I’ll get to go in depth on that day! For now, lets just put it under the broad but totally accurate category of “extremely toxic and codependent relationship” and go from there. Maybe I’ll make a family tree you you can see how messed up everything is! Yea, that would be fun! Would you like to see that?

4. Extreme heat and sun. In truth, while he does in fact become more powerful in bright sunlight, he still hates it. Why? Simple. It gives him migraines due to one of his existing (but not yet disclosed) abilities. And he just hates to be hot. He’s on the pale side (Ok, he almost makes V look like he has a tan.) so he gets sun burned. And because he’s used to a cooler climate, hot places drive him NUTS. I suppose you could say that “Discomfort” is a dislike of his, too.

5. Desk work. This one probably seems pretty random, but as an adjudicator, he actually has to occasionally file reports, and he ABSOLUTELY HATES EVERY SECOND OF IT. He’s good at what he does, no question there, but it’s kind of like being good at sending corporate emails when you hate the fake corporate politeness that you have to maintain, and you basically despise half of the company you work for. Why does he keep the job? Simple. Because no one can abuse the power of the position he’s in if he does it himself. And for him, that’s worth hating a large aspect of his job,

Likes:

1. V. Yup you read that right. Sirrus absolutely adores V, something that he himself is not used to. At this point, he’s not entirely sure what he feels towards him since they haven’t known one another for very long, but he does realize that he means quite a bit to him. After V saved his life in the fic, he really started to pay more attention to him. Before, they were friendly and he had to admit that he actually did find both V and Nero (and Nico, for that matter) really cute, but that was about it. And then as they started spending more time around one another, Sirrus realized that perhaps he liked being around V for a reason. He’s still working on understanding what he feels, but with everything going on in the fic, for now he’s just there to help and figure out what’s going on so that everything turns out alright. Then he can worry about everything else. But for now, he’s just working it out as he goes and trying to distract V from everything going on in the fic. He realizes that he’s got a lot going on, and he genuinely just wants him to be happy for a few damn minuets.

2. Being around equally strange people. Sirrus feels like an outcast most of the time, so as a general rule, he tries to associate with people as little as possible. That being said, the DMC crew makes him feel right at home, and the supreme otherness that he feels much of the time dissipates when he’s with them. It’s a welcome feeling to be sure.

3. Wine. Sirrus actually enjoys wine quite a bit! It’s something he likes the taste of, and due to his biological inability to drink, it’s something he can basically enjoy without consequence. That being said, his favorite wine is absolutely disgusting to basically everyone who’s ever tasted it (aside form V, much to his surprise) and that may be because of a certain added ingredient that was put into it for flavor. What can I say, he has unorthodox tastes!

4. Cooking good food. Sirrus doesn’t actually need to eat, but he does like to entertain those around him. If he likes you, he will cook for you. It’s that simple. It’s something from his own culture that’s been instilled in him; the idea of taking care of those that show kindness to you. And believe me, that doesn’t happen to him very often. He’s largely ostracized in most social interactions despite the fact that he says and does nothing to cause this. Its a key reason as to why he doesn't talk about what he is. It makes people... uncomfortable. And to add to that, he has a sort of aura to him that unnerves people. The way he tends to look at people at though he’s looking through them instead of at them doesn’t help.

5. Fine arts. Something that doesn’t come up much in the books is that Sirrus has hobbies. And a love for the fine arts. All of them. The more unorthodox, the better. Sirrus is that person who is dead inside and will stare at a piece of artwork for ridiculous amounts of time, pondering it’s meaning. Not in a pretensions way, but in a “what the hell am I doing with my life” sort of way. He’s a walking essential crisis, but he’s nothing if not self aware. But in regards to the arts, if it’s a form of expression, then he’s all for it. And he will probably ask you to teach it to him or become a financial patron to your work. He thinks that art and the people that make it are under appreciated, and the idea of art dying out genuinely scares him to death. He doesn’t think a world without art is worth living in. As an extension to this, he loves history. He considered much of it distasteful, but he recognizes it’s importance.

Bonus: Sirrus likes to send extravagant gifts. This is partially due to the fact that he has a very large sum of money and nothing to spend it on. It’s a regular occurrence that you will mention liking something in passing and then end up having it sent to your house out of nowhere. Sirrus did this to V with basically an entire house of furniture, and V is still trying to process it. But this isn’t the only time he’s going to do something like that. Not by a long shot.

Let me know if you have any questions! I love answering them :D And if you have any input, I’ve love to hear that, too!

#dmcocweek #Sirrus #My OC #Devil May Cry OC Week Day 4 #DMC #OC #Devil May Cry #My Devil May Cry OC #My Post Devil May Cry 5 OC #Fic

8 notes · View notes

hopelesshawks · 4 years

Text

Physical Fatality Part 15- Trapped

18+ Hawks x fem, pro hero!reader

Summary: You’re a rising star in All Might’s agency. Hawks is the darling of Endeavor’s. By virtue of your job descriptions, the two of you are supposed to hate each other, or at the very least be cautiously neutral. For a long time that’s exactly what the two of you did. You stayed out of each other’s way and formed little opinion of the other. One fateful night at an HPSC gala changes all that. Based on the album Hopeless Fountain Kingdom by Halsey.

If you don’t want to see Physical Fatality content blacklist #hopelesspf

This story will have multiple NSFW parts so it is 18+ ONLY minors dni

MAJOR WARNING FOR SU*CIDAL THEMES/IDEATION. There are red asterisks indicating where the trigger warning starts. Remember su*cide is never the answer.

Masterlist Kofi

Your body is sore, you’re bleeding in multiple places, and your forearms are on fire, silver veins shining brightly as a warning that you’re nearing your limit. You’ve left a trail of unconscious villains in your wake, but your work isn’t done yet.

You’d manage to get through most of the floors of the building but had seen no sign of the ring leader herself. You take this time to catch your breath as you try to remember the building layout and where she might be hiding. There weren’t detailed specs for it but the building definitely has a basement. You don’t love that you’ll be going in essentially blind but you haven’t got much choice. You’ve made it this far and there’s no turning back, so you steel yourself with a breath and then start making your way down to the basement.

“This is such a fucking waste of time,” Hawks groans. “I agree with bird brain. She’s obviously not still in the fucking building,” Bakugo adds, equally frustrated. He had managed to get in the building just as they went into lockdown but now they’d just been sitting in the lobby for what felt like hours. When Hawks had gotten to the top floor and found papers strewn all over the place but no sign of you, he’d immediately sent out feathers to scan through the floors; however, when he tried to report to Endeavor that you’d already left the building he’d been shut down. Instead Endeavor had insisted they follow protocol and go into lockdown. “No offense Hawks but you aren’t exactly the most trustworthy person on this particular matter,” Endeavor had chided him. Of course Bakugo and Hawks have been all but ignored since. Shoto and Tokoyami had tried to back them up but they were far outnumbered.

“Look every minute we waste here is another minute (y/n) could get herself killed,” Bakugo sighs. “I’m well aware,” Hawks grits back. “Think you could get out and get to her if I caused a distraction?” Bakugo asks him with a raised eyebrow. “Absolutely.” “Good. I’ll have Shoto and Tokoyami help me. You get to (y/n) and we’ll try to get to you two as soon as we can.” “You’re a good friend Bakugo.” “Damn right I am,” he cockily responds back, although his eyes betray his concern. “Get her out safe,” he says, sobering slightly. The two men exchange nods and then Bakugo steps deeper into the crowd of people and starts popping off explosions. “WHAT THE FUCK IS TAKING YOU IDIOTS SO LONG HUH?” he shouts. Soon Dark Shadow has joined the fray under the pretense of stopping him and Shoto similarly joins to supposedly calm down Bakugo. With everyone thoroughly distracted Hawks sneaks out the door and takes off towards the building you’re in, praying he’s not too late.

This is bad.

This is very bad.

You’re definitely moving at half speed but the villain shows no signs of slowing down. “Aww what’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re getting tired already Artemis,” the woman teases you as she sends a powerful shockwave your way. You quickly dive to one side, using your quirk to grab some of the debris around you and use it as a shield. “I’m just getting warmed up,” you bluff, gritting your teeth as you scramble back to a standing position. “Don’t lie sweetheart. Everyone knows what those silver veins on your arms mean,” the woman taunts. “Handled your goons just fine, even with the silver veins on my arms,” you spit back, causing her to scowl. “I’ll make you regret that,” the villain swears. You move too slowly to avoid the next shockwave she fires off your way, sending you sailing towards the wall. You expect to slam against the hard concrete wall behind you but instead find your fall cushioned by something, or rather, someone.

Before you can fully process what’s happened you find yourself pinned underneath Hawks, his crimson wings spread out protectively over you as several shockwaves crash over you both. “How romantic, the two of you will die together,” the villainess croons before sending out one final, large shockwave. Hawks’ body prevents any of the resulting debris from striking you but by the time it’s eased up enough for both of you to look up, the villain is gone. Before either of you can comment on her disappearance there’s a loud groaning and bang as the ceiling starts to cave in. Both your eyes widen in panic as you instinctively reach out with your quirk to stop the tons of concrete above you from crushing you and Hawks. You cry out at the rush of pain that shoots up your forearms in response and Hawks’ hands instinctively move to hover over you to see if you’re alright. He curses under his breath when he sees the state of your arms, even as he sends out several of his feathers to sweep the perimeter for a way out. “Hurry Hawks,” you grit out but the look on his face makes your heart sink. “What? What’s wrong?” you ask. “There’s no way out,” Hawks admits. “What?” “We’re trapped.”

Trapped.

The thought hits you like a freight train. You start to feel panic creep in but Hawks is quick to reassure you. “Hey, hey hang in there. Bakugo, Midoriya, Shoto, and Tokoyami are all on their way ok? One of them can get us out I just need you to hold on until then ok?” he tries to assure you. “It hurts,” you admit. “I know baby, I’m sorry. What can I do?” he asks desperately. “Distract me?” you offer. “Ok, ok let me think,” he replies as he takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He adjusts so he’s sitting directly across from you, he takes hold of your hands and makes you look him in the eye. “You can squeeze as tightly as you need to,” he tells you before adding “Remember the first night we met?” You nod as you tighten your grasp of his hands. “I think that’s still one of the best nights of my life,” he confesses and you can’t help but snap your eyes to his. “I’ve never felt anything like what I feel with you. I know you and all your friends all hate me, thinking that you’re better off without me, I mean fuck it’s my fault you’re even here in the first place isn’t it?” Keigo laughs joylessly. “We don’t hate you. I could never hate you,” you clarify. “Maybe you should.” “No. No that night was one of the best of my life too.” “Even knowing what all comes after?” “Even then. It was so simple that night.” “Like heaven in hiding, remember?” “Yea I remember. God I full on cried.” “Me too.” “How did we end up so toxic for each other?” The question makes Hawks go quiet for a moment. “You really think we were toxic?” he finally asks. “I don’t know. Maybe we weren’t but everything was so complicated by the end,” you reply. “I hate that.” “Hate what?” “Hate that we never stood a chance because of things that should’ve had fuck all to do with our relationship.” “You know what they say. The good die young. Our relationship certainly did, so it must be better than I think it is.”

******************

There’s a creaking groan as your quirk momentarily slips and the ceiling starts to fall again. You quickly force yourself to stop it again, crying out in pain as your body vehemently protests the action. God he hates seeing you in so much pain and he hates that even once the two of you get out of here it still doesn’t mean a happily ever after. His eyes roam over your face trying to commit every detail to memory. How is he supposed to survive without you by his side? “Stop looking at me like that,” you tell him. “Like what?” “Like I’m the most precious thing in the world.” “Why?” “When you give me those eyes it’s easy to forgive you.” “Well I’m certainly not going to stop now.” “Hawks...” “For what it’s worth I’m really sorry about the fight but you were wrong about me just loving the idea of love. I love you, (y/n). I have since that night in the pool.” “Don’t say that.” “Why not?” “Because it’ll make it so much harder when we get out of here.” “What if we didn’t?”

The ensuing silence is heavy.

“Kei....” “We keep making these little havens where everything is perfect and then we leave and everything goes to shit.” “What are you suggesting?” “What if you just let go?” “I can’t.” “Why not? It hurts right? And I don’t know when back up is coming or if they’ll even be able to find us.” “So you’re just giving up?” “No I-,” Keigo sighs in frustration, scrubbing his hands through his hair before grasping your hands again. “I can’t live without you and I can’t watch you drink yourself to death when the press gives me and the boys the credit for all your hard work and you don’t get your job back. I don’t even know if help will get to us in time. I’m not asking you to give up, but I am suggesting that for the first time in our miserable fucking lives we just be selfish. Like you said, the good die young right?” he insists and there are tears on his cheeks and he can’t believe he’s thinking this way but he doesn’t regret a word of it. He has never so keenly felt the weight of the chains Endeavor and the HPSC and being a hero have placed on him as he does in this moment as he pleads with you to do the unthinkable.

You hate to admit it but you understand where he’s coming from. A very, very large part of you wants to give in. What exactly would you go back to outside? Your friends can’t protect you from yourself forever. Why leave the trap you’ve found yourself in now just to move to another one that would slowly kill you anyway? You could continue to push yourself past your limits. Maybe you hold out until help arrives and maybe you and Hawks get out safe. The two of you try to make it work but you’ll resent him for still having a career while yours is over, watching you self destruct will hurt him, and his continued involvement with you will jeopardize his own career since Endeavor won’t fully trust him.

You think back to that first night in the pool and feel like it’s that moment when the alarms had gone off all over again. Would things be any different now if the two of you had chosen not to evacuate and instead stayed together? Maybe Keigo was right. The only thing leaving your self-made safe havens has ever brought you both is pain. “Do you think things will ever get better? With the press and the feud?” you ask. “Maybe after us they’ll learn,” Keigo whispers. “I hope so,” you reply. “Me too.”

“So we’re doing this?”

“It’s up to you baby. You’re the one holding it all together.”

“Ok.”

Keigo leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours as his hands come up to cup your cheeks. He places a kiss to each cheek, then the tip of your nose, before finally pressing one to your lips. Your own hands are shaking as you grab hold of the jacket of his hero costume and pull him in closer. When your lips do part Keigo whispers one last request:

“Let go baby.”

So you do.

Author’s Note: SU*CIDE IS NEVER THE ANSWER. Things are never as hopeless as they may seem. If you find yourself seriously considering it reach out to your local su*cide hotline or other resources instead. It does get better. This chapter actually marks the end of the album this is based on itself. The next part is the last one before I put this series to bed. Thank you all so much for your support throughout writing it. It means the world to me.

Taglist [open]: @akkaso @cathy8taffy @eeppff @iikillerkitteh @pixelwisp @pokesosa @lildockel @bread0nhead @lavender-moon13

#cw suicide mention #tw suicide mention #hopelesspf #hawks x y/n #wing hero hawks #hawks x reader #hawks

29 notes · View notes

otomegamesandme · 3 years

Text

A Lily in A Sea of Red

Fandom: Piofiore: Fated Memories

Pairing: Leo/Lili

Rating: T

Warnings: Mild references to violence

A/N: This is more a character study then anything, and I'm still sad there isn't more fanfic for them. I might write more, but for now here's this. Also on AO3 if you'd prefer to read it there: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32233639

News spread quickly among the Falzones. It was necessary. If the members didn’t keep on top of things, it could be the difference between lost turf wars, lost members, lost Falzone bosses. Efficiency had gone up since the last boss’s passing, leaving Dante the newest leader in tragedy’s wake.

This time the whispers were of a young woman. Soft and saintly, an aura only someone of the Church could have. It was unknown why she was staying at the mansion, other than Dante’s claim Yang’s gang was after her. It was for this reason Leo was placed to guard her. The idea made him nervous.

He was a skilled shot, had to be so he didn’t get killed. Hand to hand combat was a little harder, since he was smaller than most the men he’d find himself against. Protecting someone inside the mansion, though, was something he convinced himself he could do.

The first time he met her she’d been filled with nerves, and so had he. She’d held her hands together in a formation like prayer, and he noted it was to stop her hands from shaking. He knew her name, but when he heard her say it, the sound was peace in spring.

“Liliana Adornato.”

After the first meeting he’d mouthed her name in bed, wondering if he’d ever capture such a feeling again.

The two fell into a routine, it was easy to. Being around her was a break from the chaos he was used to. Having meals together, snacks together, conversations together, were so different than what he was used to. Although this was his family, and he owed his life to the Falzones, he couldn’t help the loneliness that crept up on the worst of days. He was aware of his failings, and although he wished nothing more than to prove his worth, he still felt like a child stumbling over each step.

With Liliana, he felt weightless. Perhaps it was under false pretenses, he was a killer after all, and the sunshine he showed was as artificial as the moon reflecting the sun, it brought her comfort. At some point, during those first weeks, he’d nearly forgotten who he was as well.

The first time there’d been an attack on Lilliana, it’d been outside as she had visited the church again for the first time. The Lao-Shu had been waiting and watching. It was something that didn’t feel natural to them. What they wanted, they took, and what they wanted was always beneficial to them. Leo couldn’t pinpoint where Lilliana fit into it all.

He’d taken her hand and ran, because his duty wasn’t to fight it was to protect. Her hand trembled in his, but there was a gleam in her eyes that spoke of her determination to survive. He hadn’t had time to process the way that struck him, as the two zipped through side streets.

Afterwards, when they’d made it to the Falzone mansion, Liliana had asked if it would be alright to have tea together. Her nerves were shook and he was a master at lightening the mood. The two spoke for hours, until her eyes were heavy lidded. Before they’d parted ways, she placed a hand on his shoulder, smile lazy in her exhaustion.

“You can call me Lili.”

He didn’t know how a simple sentence could make him so tongue tied, “Are you certain?”

“Yes. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Despite the violence which had broken her naivety, she still considered him a friend. If Leo guessed, she still considered everyone here as someone she’d grown to care about in some way. The surprise of it all made a smile bloom across his face, “We are.”

It didn’t take long for Leo to wish for them to grow into something more.

The will of the family was put before anything. And Dante Falzone represented this will. Leo was only meant to be her guard, and it was obvious to Leo Lili meant something to him. If Dante wished it, who was Leo to go against it. He was given the gift of a family and in return he offered his loyalty. And besides, Lilli only saw him as a good friend. And as a boy.

He was sunshine beaming through rainclouds, offering her joy on the worst of days. When things in the city got worse, when a new drug started circulating through town, when people died in front of her eyes, when she was caught between the feud of three mafia families, he was there. He offered conversation and distractions and laughs. On the days it was too hard for her to leave bed, he offered comfort.

His hands would comb through her hair as she cried out the shock in silence. The reactions became less severe, and she had mastered the art of masking her horror long ago. But in these moments alone, she broke. Except Leo couldn’t bare to leave her alone.

As the weather became cooler and autumn entered it’s late stages, Leo had gotten permission to take her to shop for warm clothes. Everything she had was so thin, and while she insisted she hadn’t minded, she also hadn’t left the manor in a while. Dante had wanted things to calm, and there’d been a lull in violence for the moment.

After a lot of insistence, Leo got permission, and the two headed into town. Lilli’s eyes always filled with melancholy whenever she went out now. The city had changed, from a place of vibrancy to one of lifelessness.

“Things will get better soon, I promise.”

Lili startled at his words, looking as though she’d just woken from a daydream, “I know they will.”

She’d been praying for weeks now, for this very thing. Sometimes when he’d gone to her room to remind her of dinner, he’d hear her whispers. He never could interrupt her prayers, so he’d listen to the muffled words, and offer a prayer with her. For her. It was the only thing he felt he could do.

Now, he offered his arm, feeling oddly bold in doing so, “Come on, let’s make the most of the day.”

When they returned, they were greeted by news of Nicola’s betrayal.

Broken morale followed in the week after, then a quiet anger underneath. The oppressive atmosphere that once existed outside had leaked into the Falzone household, electrifying the air. Any reprieve they had was encased in suspicion of everyone else. If their leader’s right-hand man was a traitor, then it was possible anyone else could be, too.

“Maybe it’s foolish of me, but I think there’s a reason he did it,” Lili stared at her tea, the opaque liquid reflecting her face back to her. Her hands were clasped in her lap, nails biting skin. Leo wanted to take them in his and rub away the nail marks left behind.

He glanced at the table instead, mirroring her actions, “I want to believe so, too. Everyone knows they’ve been best friends ever since they were children. It’s hard to believe he would do this without a reason.”

“I can’t help but feel this is my fault,” the line struck Leo. He rushed to protest, but she was faster, “All of the events happening here have been the result of my existence in some way. Maybe I bring tragedy.”

“Lili…” He felt her pain like his own. For all the years he’d been part of the Falzone family, he hadn’t been one to stand out. He wasn’t as strong, as quick, as coordinated as those around him. Sometimes he wondered if he’d been better, would old members still be alive. The sentiment Lili shared was one he resonated with.

She gave a choked laugh, “I’m sorry, Leo. I know you try so hard to cheer me up. I just can’t help but worry—”

Tears pricked her eyes, and Leo went to her without thought. His hands cupped her cheeks, and her eyes widened. Carefully, he wiped them away, cradling her face in his hands. She looked so small, when he saw her like this.

“You are a gift not a tragedy,” his voice was one he could hardly recognize. Underneath, he felt all the things he’d wished for, encompassed in a single phrase, “This is not your fault. The three families have been warring for years, it was bound to come to this eventually.”

Lili’s hands came to rest over his. A part of him expected her to pull them away, but instead her fingers traced along his skin, as if not comprehending. Her eyes were still wide, but her tears had stopped, and in that moment it was the only thing that mattered.

“We’ll be happy again, Lili.”

“We will be.”

Neither of them had strength in those words, but there was determination in their blood. A spark was back in Lili’s eyes and Leo smiled in relief. Lightly, softly, he ghosted a kiss across her forehead before he pulled away. He was aware he shouldn’t have, but the soft blush on Lili’s cheeks kept bay any regret.

His job was to protect her, and he’d long decided it included her heart and spirit as well.

#piofiore: fated memories #piofiore #piofiore fanfic #piofiore leo #piofiore leo x lili #LISTEN #I know there wasn't a proper kiss but it didn't feel right in this context so #If I write another fanfic it'll solely be so I can do the kiss scene #also guess I write fanfic now ajsjs #these are so funny

14 notes · View notes

ri-ahhh · 4 years

Text

bad day

MJ has a bad day dealing with her snotty coworker, who wants MJ’s promotion and her boyfriend.

4.8k

warnings: potentially triggering BD thoughts/language; smut; obnoxious amount of fluff cuz idk about you but I need some softness

“Hi sweetheart,” Grayson says with a smile as MJ stalks into the living room with a scowl. She plops next to him on the couch and hurls her heels off with a flourished kick, glaring at where they land a few feet away on the shaggy rug. His grin falls when he notices her pinched face and lack of returned greeting. “Rough day?”

MJ nods and curls into his side, silently pleading for him to wrap her in his arms. Grayson obliges immediately and pulls her into his lap, tucking her as close to his chest as he can. When MJ asks for physical affection as comfort, which isn’t as often as you might think considering that’s one of the best ways she shows love, Grayson knows she really needs it.

“’S the matter, Peach?” he asks gently with a kiss to her forehead. He smooths her long hair down and scratches his nails lightly on her thigh as she snakes her arms around his waist. “Chanel again?”

Chanel Marten is MJ’s coworker and a petty, idiotic thorn in her side; every bit the LA bimbo with the stereotypical Barbie looks and meanness to match. When she isn’t calling MJ fat behind her back or constantly trying to undercut her to their bosses in light of an upcoming promotion they’re both up for, she’s actively hinting at how much she disapproves of MJ and Grayson together. She’s been a fan of the twins for years, and doesn’t make it a secret that she is very much attracted to Grayson, which MJ finds partly amusing and wholly fucking annoying.

“God, how do you let him go to those influencer parties alone?” Was what she asked earlier today at their office. She was scrolling through the series of photos on Grayson’s latest Instagram post from the night before, looking his sexiest in that half-open linen button-down and his Louis pants. “I wouldn't let him out of my sight in public if I were you.”

MJ glanced over at her blonde coworker and couldn’t believe the audacity of this woman to go through her man’s Instagram right in front of her. She didn’t acknowledge it, answering her question instead. “I trust him. And he’s not alone, he’s always with Ethan.”

Chanel twirled her hair and sighed, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. It was the end of the day on a Friday, and she probably could have gone home already, but had instead chosen to wheel her desk chair into MJ’s office across the hall from her own. For what, exactly, MJ didn’t know; they were far from friends, barely amicable coworkers at best. Antagonizing MJ was probably the start of a good weekend for Chanel.

Her suspicions were answered a moment later with Chanel’s next choice of words, her irritating vocal fry even more prominent than usual. “Yeah, but all of those IG models in one room, and you guys aren’t, like, super public. What if he wants a taste of what he doesn’t have?”

MJ squeezed her mouse in a death grip, but didn’t divert her gaze from her screen. “What are you implying, Chanel?” she asked irritatedly, her patience running at the thickness of a piece of paper for the bitch by then. She had already thrown MJ under the bus in their morning meeting with their bosses for something MJ’s intern had screwed up in their presentation, and MJ had caught her making snide comments in the break room about her ‘birthing hips’ and ‘thunder thighs’ to Annie the Asshole from Accounting. Annie was another coworker who, upon learning that MJ wouldn't invite Grayson along to after-work drinks simply so she could meet him, had immediately put MJ in her hypothetical burn book.

Right then, she finally had a moment to go back into their projections and fix what her intern Alessia had mistyped in the final presentation copy, and Chanel was only serving as both a reminder of her actions in the meeting and a distraction from her getting her work done.

MJ wanted nothing more than to be at home with Grayson by then, a tension headache creeping steadily up the back of her neck and into her temples. She had been the lead on this client presentation, so staying at the office until nine or ten at night hadn’t been an unusual occurrence lately; she was only glad by then that this was the end of a rough few weeks of work as soon as she was done fixing Alessia’s errors.

Chanel smirked but hid it as a simper of sympathy, clearly thrilled she was visibly getting under MJ’s skin. “I’m just saying, MJ, you’re super pretty, but, like, you don’t work out that much, right?I never see you in the gym here, or hear you mention going to one after work. I mean, Grayson being surrounded by girls who do fitness for a living would have to be like being in a candy store for him. We both know how much he cares about living a healthy lifestyle.”

She double-tapped the post, her too-long nails that were clearly trying to emulate Kylie Jenner’s or the like clicking obnoxiously against the screen, and sat back in her office chair. “I think if I were you, I’d quit this place and concentrate on building a following. Maybe try the fitness influencer route, yourself. It’s a pretty good trade-off, if you think about it; Grayson gives you clout, and you get snatched for him. And, you’d be able to keep a close eye on him. Boys will be boys, after all.”

That did it. Chanel Marten didn’t know her life, and she sure as hell didn’t know Grayson’s character. MJ finally took her attention off her iMac to give Chanel a glare that rivaled Lily’s ‘you’re dead to me’ look in How I Met Your Mother. It took every ounce of self control she possessed to hold herself back from acting on the overwhelming urge to punch Chanel’s newly-doctored nose.

Upon realizing MJ was done fucking around, Chanel’s smug smile slowly faded, until all pretenses were dropped, and the two women just stared at one another. No more fronts — not cordial coworkers anymore, but rival ones.

MJ knew what this girl was doing. Trying to make her insecure in her relationship with Grayson, and question her position in the firm so she wouldn’t go for the promotion. Chanel was as dumb as she looked if she thought either of these would work, but MJ had had enough of both her intelligence and her appearance being so blatantly insulted. She swiveled back to her computer and started doing the last couple of tweaks to the report that she had started before Chanel so rudely barged in.

“You know, next time you wanna pull a fast one and make me take the fall for an intern error, I’ll be happy to let Lacey know you’ve made us all rush this presentation by turning your last three sections of analytics in late, which is why I didn’t have time to review Alessia’s portion since I had to work your shit in last minute. I have time stamps on my email to prove it. Not to mention, the screen recordings of Snapchat stories of you at Saddle Ranch that someone showed me from the same nights you sent them. Should be pretty beneficial for my interview for Executive VP next month, don’t you think?”

MJ smiled and emailed the altered report back to her boss, Lacey, and made sure her computer was completely locked down before reaching into a cabinet for her purse and lunchbox. She stood and looked down at Chanel, who had her arms crossed tightly and her overfilled lips pursed so they were unusually pale and thin. MJ was going to leave it at that, but she was very much done being the bigger person, and a brief moment of pettiness came over her.

“And I hope you do find a man as good as Gray one day; maybe having someone as kind and real as him will make you less of a cold-hearted bitch.” MJ dug her keys out of her purse, motioning with her eyes from Chanel to the open door. “Now, please get out of my office. I’m ready to go home to my amazing, faithful, sexy boyfriend.”

Chanel scoffed and rolled her eyes but did as she was told, rolling back to her desk and giving MJ the cold shoulder as she breezed past her office.

“I didn’t fucking do anything to her,” MJ whines into Grayson’s neck after relaying all of this to him. Her bravado and smugness towards Chanel had dropped almost as soon as she reached her car in the parking garage of her downtown office building. Her insecurities had crept into her brain to join her full-fledged migraine and made driving home in traffic an even bigger nightmare than usual. “She’s hated me since the day I started there, no matter how nice I’ve tried to be.”

“She’s jealous, baby,” Grayson murmurs at once, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “You’ve come in and been there half the time she has, done the same job way better than her, and got recognized for it. Nobody likes to be outshone.”

MJ sighs and squeezes him reflexively as she moves on to the other half of Chanel’s dislike for her. “And it’s like getting bullied by the head cheerleader in high school. She basically told me I was too fat for you and that I don’t work out enough to ‘keep up with your healthy lifestyle.’” She lets out a little mirthless huff of laughter. “I mean, usually she says it behind my back to Annie the Asshole from Accounting, so I guess I should be appreciative that she at least had the decency to say it in so many words to my face tonight.”

Grayson sits in silence for a moment, seething internally at the thought that some dumb bitch who doesn’t know him in the slightest could have the nerve to talk to and about his girlfriend like that. He reaches for his phone on the couch next to them. “First of all, you're not fat, and I’d love you just the same even if you were. Second, give me all her at’s. I’m blocking this girl on everything.”

God, could the man get any more perfect? MJ sits up some and cups his face, shaking her head with a small smile. “No, no, it’s okay, Bear. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she got to me. If anything, I’d want you to post a thirst trap just so she can see what’s not her’s. What’s mine.”

“I think that could be arranged tonight,” he smirks, giving her a chaste kiss.

She attempts to smile back, but it turns into a grimace as her head gives a massive throb out of nowhere. “Shit,” she mumbles, pressing her fingertips against her temples. Grayson gives her a concerned look before she explains, “Headache.”

It takes all of three seconds for Grayson to secure one arm around her back and hook the other under her knees, standing and holding her bridal style. “Come on,” he says, like she really has a choice in the matter, and starts carrying her to their room. MJ wraps her arms around his neck and nuzzles her head into his shoulder with her eyes closed to block out the evening sun. “We’re taking a bath, then I’ll order dinner to eat in bed while we have a movie night.”

MJ nods gratefully. As usual, he knows exactly what she needs. “Ratatouille?”

Grayson chuckles at the hopeful tone in her voice. Ratatouille is one of MJ’s ‘sick’ movies; something quiet and nostalgic that offers that weird feeling of peace that you need when you just don’t feel good. “Of course, Ratatouille.”

He sits her on the counter once they reach the ensuite bathroom and pinches her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, planting a warm, lingering kiss on her lips; not heated, but comforting. Just what she needs in that moment.

“Stay put,” he commands quietly. MJ agrees and starts to unbutton her blouse as she watches Grayson step into the closet, pulling out one of her favorite t-shirts of his and a pair of his boxers. He puts the folded items next to her on the counter and helps her untuck the shirt from her cigarette trousers, tossing it in the dry-cleaning pile before reaching into one of her drawers and retrieving her makeup wipes.

MJ sighs and closes her eyes as she lets him gently drag the fresh-smelling cloth against the skin of her face. They aren't part of her usual skincare regimen, but Grayson has been exposed to her routine long enough and is perceptive enough to know that they’re for late nights, or ones like tonight, when she just doesn't have the energy to do more.

It feels better than if she had been able to get herself to use face wash and toner and such, anyways. The coolness of it and pressure of his fingers feel wonderful against her eyes and cheeks, alleviating some of the pain there momentarily.

MJ flutters her eyes open when he’s done. “Thank you, Bear,” she sighs, which he replies to with a kiss before walking over to the soaking tub. She hops off the counter and unbuckles her belt and pants, then unhooks her bra and steps out of her underwear.

Her reflection in the mirror glares back at her, Grayson in the background fiddling with the knobs on the tub to get the temperature of the water just right. She watches his muscles ripple with the slightest movements, his abs outlined through the fabric of his t-shirt, and can’t help but focus back in on herself. There’s some extra squish around her upper thighs and arms that no amount of training would get rid of; a softness to her tummy that probably comes from her undying love of Oreos, which are her nighttime vice. When she compares the two of them in this intimate space, maybe Chanel was right…

“Stop that.”

MJ startles a little and looks up in the mirror from where she had unconsciously started pinching and picking at what were really the bits of healthy pudginess under her skin, to find Grayson standing directly behind her. The harshness in his tone makes her withdraw and blush some, embarrassed that he had caught her at such an insecure moment.

He wraps his arms around her middle, his open palms brushing against the skin of her belly. His touch both warms her insides and causes them to erupt in nervous tingles. For some reason, MJ has a hard time seeing the two of them like this, with her completely naked and him fully clothed. She isn't afraid, never with Grayson, but she feels incredibly vulnerable in a way she isn't used to with him.

Grayson presses a kiss to the back of her head and makes sure they have eye contact through the mirror before he continues. “I’ll be damned if I let some idiot girl who doesn't matter to either of us make you feel like you’re not enough, MJ. You’re perfect, you hear me? You’re perfect, and I wouldn't change one inch of you, inside or out. Please don’t pick yourself apart like that.”

His voice holds a mixture of conviction and sadness, and MJ bites her lip as she sinks her back into his chest, her arms folding around his at her waist. She brushes her palm across the crisp, dark hairs covering one of his forearms.

“I could work out a little harder, though,” she murmurs after a few seconds of silence. “And cut back on a few carbs.”

Grayson looks at her incredulously. She’s lean and athletic, but it’s impossible to have the juicy, natural perfection of her ass and those breasts without a little extra, which he actually adores; she’s the very definition of slim-thick, a beautiful personification of the word.

He isn’t sure what kills him more inside: to think he hasn’t made it abundantly clear to her that he loves every square inch of her body; or if girls, society, whoever it is, make her think that the hard work she puts into her physique isn’t enough simply because she has a body type that isn’t what Instagram or people like Chanel deem ‘perfect’.

Either way, he’s going to rectify things right this instant.

“First of all, MJ, I know exactly how hard you work out; I’m doing it every morning with you, five days a week at 6 AM, remember? I’m the last person to lie to anyone about how much effort they give in their fitness. I know how hard you push yourself.”

He spins her around and cups her cheeks in his big hands. His stomach withers and his heart hurts when he sees the faint glitter of tears illuminating her emerald green eyes, making him want to be extra sure his next words are heard loud and clear. “Second, if I ever see that family sized box of double-stuffed Oreos in the trash, not empty, I’ll have a meltdown wondering where the hell my girlfriend went. Please, MJ. Those girls at your work are miserable cunts who only want what they can’t have. Don’t bring that energy back here, on us. I love you, exactly as you are.”

MJ takes a moment and considers his words before relenting with a nod. He’s right. Chanel and Annie should be the last things she’s thinking about when she’s got the man of her dreams right in front of her, saying all the right things and bringing her back to reality with his sweet, supportive words.

“I’m sorry,” she sighs, leaning in for a tight hug from him. “I love you, too.”

“Don’t apologize,” Gray assures, rubbing her back soothingly. “Let’s have a nice, relaxing night now, okay?”

MJ nods, pulling away enough from his body to grasp the hem of his t-shirt. He wags his brows playfully as he lifts his arms so she can pull the garment over his head, and gives her a quick smile before ducking down to kiss her.

She seems to be feeling slightly better, and a weight lifts from his chest at the realization. “Don’t distract me,” he mumbles against her lips after they make out lazily for a few moments. “Or our bath will overflow.”

“Don’t be so perfect, then,” she says back with a smirk, giving his ass a little swat as he returns to the tub and drops a Lush bath bomb and a chunk of bubble bar into the water.

While he does that, MJ opens one of the medicine cabinets. She isn’t big on taking pills, but she relents today and pops an Excedrin as her head pounded again. Once she swallows it with a handful of water from the sink, she starts to pile her hair into a bun, but is stopped by Gray’s grip on her forearm.

Her eyes had zoned out on a random spot on the counter, but at the pressure of his hand she looks up in the mirror to see him as naked as she is. “Don’t be silly,” he chides lightly, a smile toying at the corners of his lips. “You’re getting the full treatment tonight, Peach. I’ve got your shampoo and conditioner ready to go over there.”

He pulls gently down on her arm, and her hair tumbles back down over her shoulders and back as she lets him tug her to the warm, foamy water.

Ten minutes later, the Excedrin has kicked in, soft music from their ‘chill’ playlist plays through Grayson’s phone on the edge of the tub, and his strong fingers are creating heavenly relief for her as they scrub at her scalp. She’s totally relaxed in front of him, letting his broad chest and shoulders cocoon her smaller frame as her eyes droop and she moans lightly.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day, sweetheart,” he whispers in her ear, making her shiver despite the steaming water they sit in. She snuggles closer to his warmth. “And I’m sorry you have to deal with those assholes every day.”

It takes a moment for her brain to form the words, but she hums contentedly in reply. “It’s okay. Don’t know what I’d do without you, though, Gray.”

It’s so true. She has never been the girl to be codependent on anyone, let alone the man she’s in a relationship with, but Gray has achieved that honor in a matter of a year and a half. Probably earlier, if she were being honest with herself, but her adult life before him was a blur. She’s forgotten what it was like to not have him by her side, and she doesn’t want to imagine a scenario in the future where he isn’t.

He finishes washing her hair, lulling her into an even deeper trance when he moves her dark, wet locks over one shoulder so he can massage her neck with deep presses of his thumbs into her tight muscles. His fingers are nimble and dexterous, strengthened by his renewed passion for rock climbing, and are perfect for loosening the tension under her skin.

“Mmm, fuck,” she moans, not meaning for it to come out quite so pornographic, but she feels nearly orgasmic in the relief his hands are bringing her. Speaking of… “You’re gonna get the best head tomorrow, I promise.”

Grayson chuckles, squeezing her shoulders now, too. MJ feels him twitch against her lower back, but he says in her ear, “I’m not doing this for you to return the favor. I just want to be the one to make you feel better. Because I love you, and you’re mine, and you deserve it.”

“I know you’re not,” MJ smiles. “That only makes me want to do it even more.”

He grins and moves his hands further down her back beneath the water, massaging his knuckles into the soft skin there as well before coasting up her sides. He cups her breasts as MJ sinks back against him, her breathing picking up the slightest bit as his hands work magic there, too.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his hot breath flowing straight into her ear and sending goosebumps flaring over her skin.

More than okay, she thinks. MJ nods, and gasps when his hands pinch her nipples gently between his ring and middle fingers, tugging slightly. She takes his large hand off her right breast and sinks it into the water, straight to her center, her legs already parting to welcome him.

“Just rub me,” she whispers, eyes closed as he doesn’t hesitate to obey. “Circles, like this.”

MJ guides his fingers over her clit for a moment to show him exactly what she wants, but this isn’t their first rodeo and Gray knows perfectly well what he’s doing. She lets him take over and simply lies back against him as he expertly brings her higher and higher, until she’s falling over the edge, twitching in his arms and moaning sweetly.

Grayson tilts her head back to kiss him, sighing into her mouth as she twists in his arms to straddle him. He’s completely hard now, and she takes him in her hand instinctively. Twenty minutes ago, sex was the last thing on her mind, but she feels so good and relaxed now that she doesn’t hesitate to line him up and sink down slowly on his dick.

She grins smugly when his eyes fly open and he lets out an embarrassingly loud moan, completely surprised by a warm wetness that is vastly different from that of the bathwater. When she had stroked him in her hand he thought she might jerk him off, but her pussy, still deliciously tight from her orgasm, isn’t what he’s prepared for as he becomes slowly encased in it.

It’s a good thing she doesn’t meant for it to last long, because he’s so overwhelmed and caught off-guard it only takes a couple of minutes max of her grinding up and down on him while she whispers hot, dirty things in his ear, for him to shoot deep inside her.

“Shit,” he huffs out with a little laugh as she raises herself up enough for him to slip out of her pussy. “Did you just give me the equivalent of a hand job with your vagina? I know that wasn’t for you.”

She giggles and sits back in his lap, shrugging as she nuzzles his nose with hers. “What can I say, I’m feeling lazy tonight and that seemed like the faster option. Are you complaining?”

Grayson shakes his head vehemently. “Of course not, but I didn't want you to do any work tonight.” His brows pinch a bit and his lips turn down into a pout. “Are you okay? How’s your head?”

MJ smiles softly and brushes his cheek with pruned fingertips. Even post-orgasm, he’s still concerned only about her. “Better, Gray-bear. Thank you.”

God, she loves him so much. She can’t resist wiping her hands on the towel and reaching behind him to grab his phone to capture him in that moment. His hair has gone curly in the humidity of the bathroom; the light from the window shines perfectly on his chiseled face, making his sex-eyes nearly pure green and illuminating his full lips that have curled into a small, crooked smile as he realizes her intention. She laughs when he takes it upon himself after a few serious snaps to play up to the camera, scooping up some of the bubbles and blowing them off his palm while giving her a joking, coquettish expression. Finally, she puts her back against his chest once again and they take a couple of goofy, up-angle shots, close-ups of their faces.

Photoshoot over, Grayson sighs and hugs her tight to him as he sucks kisses up and down the sides of her neck while she goes through the pictures. He’s making her head swim, but she manages to determine three of her favorites and doesn’t even bother editing them before adding a simple heart emoji in the caption and posting them to his Instagram once she earns his approval.

She turns around to put the phone back on the ledge before leaning in to plant her lips on his, slipping her tongue between them sensually. She could kiss this man forever, but eventually they start slowing down. MJ moves her kisses to his sharp jawline, trailing her mouth across and down until she gets to his neck freckle. She gives it a peck before pulling back, meeting his hooded gaze with warm eyes. It feels so good to just give each other these little bouts of physical affection with no real end goal. Just enjoying each other’s company, in their own space, caressed by the comforting warmth and scents of the bath.

Eventually, MJ peels herself away from him and stands up. Grayson stares up at her adoringly, admiring the way the water cascades over her body and rains down back into the tub. “C’mon, I’m hungry.”

She looks like a naiad with her long, dark hair covering her tits and dripping sensual trails of warm water down the dips and curves of her body. As if she doesn’t look delectable enough to him right now, her pussy is inadvertently right in his face, and his hand instantly reaches up to touch her. “Me too,” he growls, his fingertips tracing her lower lips and parting them so her clit is exposed. His mouth literally starts to water as he thinks about her earthy taste and her slippery arousal coating his tongue.

Just as he’s ducking in to swipe his tongue over her slit, MJ grips a handful of his hair and stops him, tilting his head back with that grip to make him look up at her questioningly. “Not now,” she says, taking her turn to scratch her nails along his scalp for a moment. “Still sensitive. And actually starving; I had to spend my entire lunch break fixing part of that report.”

Grayson nods understandingly and lifts the plug in the drain before standing up as well. “Then let’s get some Monty’s in you, hm?”

“That sounds amazing,” she agrees, her stomach growling right on cue.

They both chuckle and Grayson helps her step out of the tub before wrapping her up in a big, fluffy towel. He kisses her nose, then her lips, and retreats into the closet with his own towel to find fresh PJs for himself.

An hour later, they’re chowing down on some burgers and shoestring fries together in the fresh blankets of their bed while Ratatouille plays through the projector. And Chanel’s stupid username hasn’t popped up once in his likes or comments.

#only posting this now bc ive been in a funk the past few days #and i need some soft over romantic fluff #also when i made my masterlist i realized there were 6 posts #and the number 6 is a huge trigger for my ocd i hate it #also this was already written haha so yeah #dolan twins #grayson dolan #ethan dolan #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan oc #dolan twins fanfic #grayson mj

174 notes · View notes

ejzah · 4 years

Text

A/N: I know I’ve written similar things, maybe even leading up to this episode, but since we have more details, I thought I’d give it another try. For tonight’s episode, “Angry Karen”.

***

Kensi leaned against the bathroom door frame, watching Deeks brush his teeth. His head was bent so he didn’t see her in the mirror, which gave her an opportunity to observe him without any pretense. Although she wasn’t sure he would notice anyway. He’d been very distracted all night.

She watched him until he started washing his face. Her lips curved into an affectionate smile as she walked up behind him and pressed herself against his back.

“Hey there,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around his chest.

“Hey.” He paused to lean down and kiss her shoulder. Kensi sighed, relaxing against him. She turned her cheek into his shoulder; he smelled faintly of his body wash and mint, his t-shirt soft on her skin.

Even though she’d enjoyed being on her own for part of the day and working with Fatima was always great, she’d missed him. More than that, Kensi had worried about him being all alone.

“So how are you really doing?” He tensed a little-there was no way for him to hide it since she could feel every move-and then shrugged.

“Fine, I guess.” Kensi definitely didn’t like the defeated sound in his voice. She loosened her arms and pushed at his hip until he turned around with a vaguely annoyed look.

“Seriously babe, what’s going on in your head?” she prompted, brushing a few curls back from his temple. There were a few more creases and lines around his eyes than she remembered seeing in the last few months.

He sighed again, pressing his lips together as he looked up at the ceiling for a moment. His hands settled on her back almost absentmindedly.

“When I got that letter today, from LAPD, I was shocked. I always thought it would be me leaving and not the other way around. It sucks to find out that you’re not necessary. Just like that, a huge part of my life is just over,” he explained. His eyes focused beyond her again, distant.

Kensi tipped his chin up, bringing his gaze back to her.

“You don’t know that for sure. You said they’re restructuring right now. When that’s finished, they’ll probably want you back.”

“Kens, we both know that’s almost definitely not going to happen. I’m a problem detective who worked for a federal agency and I have a nasty IA investigation on record.”

She was mildly horrified to hear him sum up his years of service so negatively. It made her wonder how many other times he’d thought of himself this way.

“Deeks, you are so much more than that,” she told him firmly. “And even if LAPD is foolish enough to let you go, applying to FLETC is still an option.”

“And you know why I don’t like that option,” he reminded her, untangling their arms. He tossed his damp towel into the hamper and walked into their bedroom, clearly trying to put distance between them.

Not about to let that happen, she followed after him. Deeks set his watch and phone on the bedside table, laying down with an exhausted groan. She slid in next to him, propping herself up on his chest.

“Deeks, whatever happens, we will figure something out. Together.”

“Even if I lose my job, and the bar goes under, and my hair turns completely gray?” She appreciated his attempt at a joke, even if the humor didn’t reach his eyes.

“Yes, even if all that happens,” she promised, cupping the sides of his face as she kissed him gently. “But I’ll probably get you some hair dye.”

“Always looking out for me,” he teased, finally sliding his hand down to her hip. “I love you and I’m sorry I’m being such an idiot.”

“Mm, I love you too. And you’re not idiot, not for this. Some of the other things you do, but not for this.”

“I’m scared,” he whispered after a couple minutes. The confession surprised Kensi a little, but she just tightened her arms.

“I know,” she murmured. “But we’ll figure it out.”

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #densi #angry karen #post ep #angst #worried Deeks #worried and supportive kensi #ejzah fanfiction

40 notes · View notes

lizacstuff · 4 years

Note

Hi! What did you think of ep23?I love your in depth thoughts on the episodes. I really enjoyed it, especially the EdSer moments (was smiling like an idiot during the skating scene - when Eda complained about it being hot (girl same), and also that she understood what he said in French omg). I hope the grandmother doesn't turn out to be as evil as everyone is assuming. I guess the one big con was Ayfer. She's gotten more annoying right? That's not just me? But I love me some Aydan!

Hello! Thank you for the kind words. Let's see, I did like the episode, but as I said in another ask I was a bit on edge while watching for a couple of reasons, but they're all Edser related so I'll talk about that when I talk about them at the end. As far as Ayfer is concerned, I FEEL YOU.

Good grief, woman. Why does she have to be such a harpy? It feels like she complains about absolutely everything. Plus, she's forcing a situation where her beloved niece can't trust or confide in her, and all the girls have to hide Eda's work schedule from her. Look, if Ayfer doesn't want to spend time with Aydan, fine, but her anger towards and disapproval of Eda's job and her relationship with Serkan are completely selfish. She may tell herself she's disapproving for Eda's own good, but come on.

Because, seriously, what does Ayfer think she's protecting Eda from? Serkan is handsome, rich, successful and head over heels in love with Eda. Let's be honest, Eda could do worse. He might be a tad arrogant and controlling, but he's a very good man with a very good heart. Also he tries with Ayfer. I get the connection with Alptekin is upsetting, but Serkan and Aydan have cut him completely out of their lives and neither had anything to do with what happened. I also get that Ayfer was put off by the whole contract thing, but it took two to tango there, and Eda's entire world opened up because of that arrangement.

Maybe that's the problem?

(more under the cut)

Maybe Ayfer can feel Eda expanding and growing and her world getting much bigger than Ayfer's and it scares her? She thinks she'll lose her, or won't recognize her? Privately, Serkan and Eda have talked about running away together, maybe Ayfer senses that's a possibility? (PRO TIP: Then don't be a negative force they have to get away from!)

Also what's happening with this Chef Alexander thing? Is he actually going to make an appearance? Is there going to be a romance? I think that would be good, maybe that will salvage Ayfer's character and she'll get distracted and maybe even happy. I did laugh, though, at her her calling Aydan and Seyfi out on their lie about having him on board with their charity scheme. They should know better than to try that. Amateur move, kids! But I will always applaud their matchmaking efforts when it comes to Eda and Serkan.

I enjoyed the girls this episode. I like that they don't share Ayfer's concerns about Serkan and are ready to go to the mat for whatever Eda wants. Poor Melo is the worst detective, but she gets points for trying. Also points for picking up what Eda was putting down and skillfully sweeping Balca and her broken heel out of the way. I'd want Fifi for protection as well, girl is badass. I can't tell what this Fifi/Erdem thing is supposed to be. Does she have a soft spot for him, she must because I don't know why she would give him the time of day otherwise. She's not one we have to worry about not being able to say no. If she wanted to rid herself of his presence, she'd do it. Ceren and Ferit are just kind of... there. I don't dislike it, but I also don't really care. They need something to spice that up.

Which is what we finally got with Engin and Piril! Holy moly, who is her dad!?! Mafia boss? Politician? Wealthy recluse? @alicekepley suggested on another post that maybe it's Aydan's first love. Now that would be interesting. Maybe he turned to a life of crime after being disappointed by Aydan? I am now looking forward to see how this plays out and how it affects them. However, there's one thing that gets me almost every episode. I love Engin and Anil, but he looks at least a decade older than Serkan, Piril, and Selin. So much so that I don't buy they could have gone to school together. This is where I'll have to call on my well honed suspension of disbelief I guess... I'll tell myself he spent a lot of time in the sun and is graying a bit prematurely.

I did like Engin and Serkan sitting around commiserating about their relationships and hoping things were about to turn around. That's the more equal buddy talk I want to know happens.

Speaking of Serkan, duuuuuuuuude. You're being hunted, wise up! I'm really stuck on what he said to Sirius after Eda left his house at the top of the episode. "Don't look at me like that, everything is under control, I know perfectly well what I'm doing, this is my tactic." We know from last episode he thought Eda would show, and this episode while talking to Eda he told her that he was expecting her and the candles were for her. So... did he purposely allow Balca in to provoke Eda's jealousy? If so, I'm not sure this is his best course of action. It's certainly not with regards to fanning Balca's dangerous pretensions, but I'm not sure he's getting his best result with Eda either. It's true that it gave him an excuse to flirt, make the bet, tease her, bask in her obvious jealousy even if she won't admit it, and get a Parisian date out of it. I suppose that's not a bad day's work. On the other hand, if he'd sent Balca on her way, he would have had a happy Eda, in his house, sitting on the couch next to him, watching a movie with him, which also could have led to a very good place for him.

It's also a mystery to me if Serkan is really clueless about Balca's intentions, or if he's playing dumb to suit his own purposes with Eda. I'm thinking it's the middle. He probably sees it but thinks it's a whole lot more harmless than it is. Like maybe he gets Balca has a crush on him, but he has no suspicion that he's in dangerous fatal attraction territory. Which is where we are. I don't want to fling words like 'crazy' around, but... bitch be crazy! If she is capable of trying to large-scale sabotage his company in her pursuit of him, that's some seriously scary stuff. WAKE UP, SERKAN.

I said I was uneasy while watching this episode and part of it was concern over what would happen with the tender, and worrying if Balca's sabotage was going to work, leaving Eda to blame. If that had gone the other way, the fallout would have been painful. Also storylines where a fav is falsely accused always make me antsy. I was able to handle the Serkan roof collapse one because it was at the end of the episode, and they were able to figure out that he wasn't responsible right off the top of the next. But this one had me on edge all ep. I was especially nervous after Eda made the independent report on her recommended firm part of a trust test. Sweetie, I love you, but NOOOOO. That was not the move of a professional. Serkan, as the company principle, wanting to vet a partner or vendor is completely normal and has nothing to do with how much he trusts her. Put aside the fact that she's only been in the workforce for a few months, you always want a second set of eyes on something that important. Always. She showed some of her immaturity there, which is fine, she's young and inexperienced, but it's a sign of how desperate Serkan is for her to forgive him that he humored her. That man will do anything for her, even if it doesn't make sense or is potentially damaging. I get why the writer's did it, for the suspense of Eda being out on that limb all on her own, but it was also actually a bit of a missed opportunity for him to mentor her there. (And I love when she learns from him.)

The other reason I was uneasy watching this ep was due to some frustration with Eda. See above on the trust test, but it was also a little hard to watch her just completely succumb to Serkan's charm and be in the moment with him one moment, and then the next second shake it off and be adamant that she was going to be leaving the job and him shortly. It felt like constant whiplash. Also if she won the bet she wanted him to leave her alone? Sure, Jan. She could have asked for something really good! We all know she doesn’t really want him to leave her alone, so that pretense has gotten harder and harder to take. However, the times she rebuffed him didn't bother me as much as when she told Melo she was leaving the job. I can chalk up the ones to Serkan as part of her act, trying to protect herself and poke holes in his pretensions, but when she said it to Melo it felt more real. Like that was really what she was still planning to do, and it's really hard to reconcile that with all the moments where she puts down her guard and it's obvious she's madly in love with him.

On a positive note, scenes where it’s clear they’re madly in love with each other were plentiful this episode. The romantic robot used every opportunity he could find to make her melt. My GAWD she has a will of iron that she was able to back away from him after he recited all the ways he could tell if a woman (her) was in love with him. He is one smooth bastard. And boy does he know her, he knows exactly what he does to her. That scene was FIRE. Not to be crass, but how did they not do it right then and there? After the last few eps, they have to be at a 100 on a scale of 1-10 when it comes to pent up sexual energy. Hey Eda, maybe you wouldn't be so jealous if you knew he had an outlet for that. I'm just sayin'.

The lunch was pretty funny and I definitely enjoyed the kicking and the under the table conversation. After refusing to admit she was jealous, Eda totally deserved that Serkan said that whatever Balca's feelings for him were, they were between him and Balca. Eeesh. I see what he's doing, he's trying to bring her feelings out into the open, and she deserves it, but I don't think he realizes how vulnerable she is over everything. He's walking a tightrope here. However, I do appreciate that he finally just admitted that he's jealous. If he'd just done that in 18, he would have saved himself some angst. Are we to infer from Serkan asking Eda not to use emojis with Efe, that Edser likes to use emojis when they text? Or was that just a generic, "don't be cute with him?" I think I'll take that Serkan and Eda use emojis, just because it tickles me to think of Serkan Bolat doing that. All of shipper twitter thinks that's the writers poking at the actors because of how much they use them with one another on social. Who knows, maybe that explains it, since it sort of came out of the blue. You gotta love, though, that every manipulative thing Balca did either failed or backfired spectacularly. Showing up at his place, sure she succeeded in upsetting Eda and derailing their night, but it also put Eda on her guard and brought about the flirty wager between Eda and Serkan. She left the earring, but Eda found it before she could use it as an excuse to return. She broke her heel, but that just gave her a ruined pair of shoes and Melo an excuse to get her out of there so Serkan and Eda could be alone. She and her devious friend succeeded in throwing Melo and Eda off the scent, however all that meant was that Serkan won the bet and gave him the pretense needed to get her to agree to the most romantic date on the planet. She sabotaged the report, but Eda still found out about the company's background and Eda was the hero when ArtLife won the tender. Balca: 0 percent success rate so far.

THE ICE SKATING SCENES WERE PURE MAGIC! It was fun to see the whole cast out there having a blast, but obviously it was the Edser scene at night that lit up the whole show. Damn was that pretty. (it's currently my ipad lock screen and home screen) The chemistry between the actors was on display all episode, but here it just exploded. When Eda said she was hot, no kidding! How could you not be? And I agree that Serkan speaking French to her was OMG. Love, love, love the date that Serkan planned for them in Paris. I'm bereft that we'll likely never see it. Damn you pandemic, look what you've taken from us! The characters, and the audience, deserve an entire episode of Paris romantic fluff. We've all earned this!

The date sounded perfect and I found it very interesting that he had purposely never been to Montmartre. So at some point he promised himself he'd only go there with a woman he was truly in love with, makes me wonder if it was a much younger Serkan who made that promise. The Serkan we met in the pilot didn't believe in love, he was hard-hearted, he actually talked with Engin about how a contract, a bloodless business transaction, was the way to go for relationships. Robot Bolat. So I don't think he made that idealistic promise any time recently. If so, that means he's had that in the back of his mind for years, but Eda's the only woman he's ever considered taking. My heart. I love how the show keeps showing us and telling us that this is the first time Serkan has ever been in love. You could see in that scene that Eda was right there with him. She was so happy and in the moment and swept away by the romance. She was as excited for Paris as he was. I know we all wanted a kiss/declaration here, it would have been a very good moment for it. A very good one. But the show has other plans for them, so we wait.

So, yeah, I really liked the Edser we got, but Eda’s hot and cold act was hard to reconcile at times. However, perhaps it all came together in the end, when she's talking to Melo and Ceren about Paris. She was feeling troubled over it, probably what agreeing to go with him meant, but they both told her to listen to her heart in Paris and it seems like she was going to do it: "From now on I'll stop worrying. I'm opening a new page in life." So I think in that moment she was ready for next steps and was planning to be open with him in Paris, let's hope it carries over to the next episode even without Paris.

Actually, that whole conversation was a bit of a window into her psyche and was more illuminating than almost anything in the episode in that regard. When Eda says she’s worried, Melo teases her that she's nervous to be alone with Serkan Bolat, and then jokes that all young women would like to have that problem, including herself. Eda does NOT like that joke and actually verbalizes it, "Melo, at least you don't do that." That was a huge spotlight into Eda's insecurities, like she is really discombobulated by witnessing women showing interest in him while they're in such a nebulous place. Since she is coming off of what happened with Selin, and was already feeling jealous when the first candidate set her off with (her creepy) talk of chemistry last episode, then finding Balca at Serkan's house in the opening scene, I suppose it's no surprise that all of that has had some residual effects. But that it's to the point where she can't take a joke from Melo is telling. Poor thing.

My hope is that this is just something she's working through while she's feeling off-kilter about everything. It would be one thing if they were together, but she's in this headspace where half the time she says she's leaving and it's over between them and half the time she acting like his wife, so I think she's just discombobulated. Maybe she just wants time to figure things out, but feels like she doesn’t have it, because someone is going to swoop in and take her place and that’s feeding her jealousy? The fact that Serkan can’t see it (Selin and Balca) until it’s out of control doesn’t help.

It's natural for her to be upset that this woman has entered the scene and is clearly trying to maneuver herself into Eda's place in Serkan's life. However, there is an easy fix to this. Just go be with him. Come on, Eda, we know you can do it! You're ready. You’re primed. Bring on the New Year's Ep!

#Sen Çal Kapımı #sen cal kapimi #edser #sck ask #sck episode discussion #edser discussion #sck 1x23 #edser meta #asklizac #Anonymous #sckask

29 notes · View notes