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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 2 years

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When Fantasy Pales

Summary: Y/N fantasizes about Beau all the time. Can she make reality out of fantasy, and will things turn out like she imagined?

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut, nothing too explicit. A tiny smidge of fingering, lots of making out, implied smut, fantasizing, angst if you squint, fluff and Beau Arlen dressed up as a fighter pilot. That's a warning for sure. TW: for brief sexual harrassment, unwanted grabbing.

Word Count: 4K+

A/N: Okay, so this is the first time I'm writing Beau Arlen. I'm super nervous, because it's still such early days with his character. But I couldn't resist trying. This ended up being less smutty then I had planned, 😂 but I'm mostly happy with how it turned out. I hope you enjoy it and please tell me what you think! Interaction is EVERYTHING! 😘🥰

A/N 2: This fic will also fill a prompt in the 30 Days Writing Challenge, prompt # 12, Explain your MC's motivation. I think Beau explains his motivations pretty well towards the end of the fic.

The beautiful divider at the bottom was created by @firefly-graphics

Beau Arlen had come to town almost four months ago, and you'd fallen in love with him immediately.

Within minutes.

How could you not? He was the most gorgeous man you'd ever seen, over six feet of long, hard, cowboy. The way he sauntered into the Sheriff's office each morning on his beautiful bowlegs, his jeans clinging like a second skin, never failed to make your stomach tighten and your mind spin wildly.

Everyday you came up with a new scenario in your mind, for how Beau might come to fall in love with the quiet secretary hiding at the back of the office. Most of the scenarios tended to start the same sexy way though.

Beau would suddenly be awoken to the fact that you existed, finally see you for real, finally notice you, want you.

And when he did he'd throw you down on the nearest desk, or couch, or chair, bed - whatever was closest.

The other day you'd seen him bending into his open truck door, and the sight of his round, plump ass, jeans stretched tight across it, had you imagining him bending you over the hood of his Sheriff's vehicle, maybe slipping his cuffs around your wrists while he teased and tormented you into multiple earth-shattering orgasms.

The truth was that you fantasized about him all the time. Everything about him was hot as hell and arousing. The way his voice dripped out of him like slow molasses, all smooth and rich and dark, the way he teased and charmed effortlessly, the way his smile lit up a room, the way his shirts pulled tight across his biceps sometimes, the way his tac vest seemed to broaden his already wide shoulders, making you pant with need, the way he caressed his gun as he cleaned it at his desk sometimes, his thick, blunt-tipped fingers, skilled and nimble as they worked, making you blush from the wicked images they evoked.

All of these things caused vivid fantasies to take over your mind all the time. It was wholly inconvenient and frustrating, this all-consumimg attraction you felt for Beau Arlen.

But the truly scary thing wasn't how he made you pant and drool. What really terrified you was the way your heart fluttered when you overheard him talking about his daughter with so much love and pride, or when you watched his intelligent brain solve a puzzle quickly and save the day.

Or when his big heart made itself known, like it did a week ago. A little girl had been brought in, lost and scared. She'd eventually been reunited with her Mom, but in the meantime she was sitting in an unknown place, with a bunch of scary cops with guns.

Beau had taken the gun from his hip, and approached her with some milk and a cupcake from the break room. He'd spoken softly, down on his haunches in front of her. Within a few minutes he had the little one giggling and then took her into his office so she could sit at his desk and draw pictures.

He was everything you'd ever wanted in a man, as though he'd been sent from the gods above.

And he didn't even know you were alive.

Actually, that wasn't entirely true. Every morning when he passed by your desk, he'd give you a bright smile and say, "Mornin' Y/N."

And you would mumble a quiet, "Morning." back to him. And sometimes he'd ask you for some clerical info, or ask you to look something up for him and you would...yeah, that was pretty much the extent of your interactions day-to-day.

In a way, it would be easier if he never said hello, never spoke to you. Then you could pretend that he'd just never noticed you and that one day he'd look up, see you, and fall in love.

But he had seen you, he had noticed. He just didn't care; you were the plain, quiet girl in the corner and he never spared you a second glance.

But you'd vowed to make him do a double take tonight.

It was the annual Halloween office party, and you knew he was going to come because you overheard him talking to Poppernak about it. The deputy told Beau what a big deal it was, how everyone attended and dressed up, and that he had to come or the team would be disappointed.

Beau had agreed reluctantly, saying he'd figure out something simple for a costume.

Your costume was pretty simple as well, you were coming as Daisy Duke from the Dukes of Hazzard. About a month ago you'd heard Beau talking with one of the officers about having a huge crush on Daisy Duke when he was a kid.

You'd looked up who she was, and decided then and there that she was going to be your Halloween costume. It was just cutoffs (cut off VERY high up the leg!) and a tight-fitting, low cut orange t-shirt. And cowboy boots of course.

You'd never worn anything that revealing in your life, but you liked your curves and decided that it was time to show them off. If you wanted Beau to finally notice you, you'd need to grab and keep his attention on you.

You stood in front of the mirror that evening turning to the side and biting your bottom lip as you saw the way the jeans cut across the bottom of your ass cheeks. If you bent over even a tiny bit, you'd essentially be mooning everyone.

Maybe this isn't a good idea, you thought to yourself.

You weren't sure you had the confidence to pull this off. But you were so desperate for Beau to see you, you knew you had to give it a try.

You lived close to the bar where the party was being held, so you just walked over. That way, you could drink all you wanted and just take a cab home.

You knew you were going to need lots of liquid courage to get through the evening.

You got a lot of looks thrown your way as you walked down the street. Probably because you were wearing shorts when it was 36 degrees out. You were shivering as you walked into the busy bar, giving thanks for the warmth of the room. Your sexy costume was not conducive to Montana at the end of October.

You looked around and saw lots of people from the office and their spouses, partners and dates, but still couldn't see Beau. Everyone you ran into complimented you on your costume, saying you looked fantastic, which helped boost your confidence a bit.

But an hour into the party, Beau still wasn't there. You wondered if he'd changed his mind, maybe he couldn't find a decent costume, or maybe something had come up with work. He did work some odd hours sometimes.

It was nearly two hours into the party when you finally gave up and stopped looking up hopefully every time someone new walked in. The bartender approached you, where you sat at the bar, pouting slightly, and you ordered a beer, disappointment washing over you.

As you sipped your beer, you felt a hand slide along your back and come to rest on your shoulder. You jumped slightly and turned your head to see a tall man with dark hair and blue eyes pressing against your side.

"You're much hotter in your daisy dukes than Daisy Duke ever was!" He said with a sly grin.

He was a good-looking guy, but he held no appeal for you and you pulled out of his grasp.

"Thanks but I'm just here to have a drink, and visit some. I'm headed home right away."

"Well, lead the way, beautiful, I'll follow."

You smiled politely and tried again. "Sorry, but no. I'm not looking for someone to bring home."

He leaned forward again and reached around to squeeze your ass. "This outfit says otherwise, Missy. Don't try playing hard to get."

Without thinking it through, your hand came up and your palm cracked loudly across his cheek. He grabbed your wrist before you could lower your hand, and yanked you against him, then pressing you back into the bar.

The hard wood dug into the middle of your back, while his whiskey-soaked breath passed over your face.

"You'll pay for that, fuckin little tease." The guy sneered at you and went in, aiming for your mouth.

But before he could reach it, he was pulled off of you and knocked to the ground; you couldn't even say how it happened. But you suddenly saw Beau towering over him where he lay on the ground, choking and seemingly unable to catch his breath.

"My advice would be to stay down, jackass."

As the guy coughed hoarsely, Beau turned to you. "Hey darlin', you alright? Wanna press charges?"

You were still reeling from how quickly everything had happened, but you shook your head.

"No, I'm fine."

"You sure?" Beau asked, throwing a grin in your direction. "It would get me out of this stupid costume that I spent too much time trying to find."

For the first time you noticed his costume and it managed to make your breath catch.

He was in an aviator jumpsuit, fake badges and patches adorned it and made him look like he'd just stepped out of the movie Top Gun, he even had dark aviator sunglasses hanging from his right breast pocket.

"No, that's...that's a great costume." Your throat was closed and your words sounded a bit strangled.

Beau shrugged. "Best I could manage anyway." He held a finger up to you. "Hang on a second."

He bent down and hauled the guy off the floor by the front of his fireman costume.

"I don't know who you came with, but you're leaving now, right?"

The guy nodded frantically and when Beau let go of his shirt, he took off running.

People had started to notice something happening when Beau laid the guy out, and now they chuckled at his quick escape and went back to drinking and dancing.

"Thanks." You said nervously.

"Of course. Not about to let my favorite secretary get manhandled. The office would fall apart without you keeping us running and organized."

You smiled shyly, and ducked your head. But then you gave yourself a mental punch in the arm.

Get bold, you idiot, you yelled at yourself. This is your chance!

"Can I..." Your voice trailed off and you pointed lamely at the bar. "I owe you at least a drink."

Beau smiled at you, but looked slightly hesitant. You felt your heart sink a bit. "Just one drink." You said, hoping you didn't sound too desperate.

Beau bit into his bottom lip as he thought about it. The way his white teeth sank into his plush, pink flesh made you want to moan aloud. Finally, he shrugged and moved up to the barstool beside you.

"Sure, one drink can't hurt us."

You climbed onto the stool beside him. "What are you drinking?" You asked.

He looked at the bartender. "Just a beer please, whatever is dark and cold."

You began chatting about work to start, talking about ongoing cases and some of the people you both worked with. Within a half hour you'd said more to him than you had in nearly four months.

As the half hour turned into an hour and one drink turned into two and then three, and another hour rolled over, the bar began to empty out, people heading home for the night. But you and Beau didn't really notice, too busy caught up in your conversation.

To your surprise, once you'd begun the conversation, Beau's charm and friendly banter put you at ease pretty quickly and words flowed easily between you.

Though you were still distracted from time to time, like when his knee brushed against yours, or when you noticed the way his green eyes sparkled even in the low light of the bar, or by the way his fighter pilot costume pulled tight across his shoulders whenever he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the bar.

But despite these distractions, you managed to suck it up and continue to string words together.

He was as funny and charming as you already knew him to be, but it surprised you just how open and honest he was. He never shied away from talking about how hard the job could be sometimes, he could be quite self-deprecating, but also had pride in his accomplishments.

What you discovered as you talked and laughed with him for over two hours was that his physical beauty actually paled in comparison with his good, strong, beautiful heart.

And Jesus Christ, did you adore this man.

It wasn't until the bartender came out from behind the bar, jacket in hand, that the two of you realized you'd closed down the bar.

The bartender tossed his keys to Beau. "Lock it up, Sheriff. Leave the keys in the usual spot."

Beau nodded. "Will do, Mikey! Have a great night. Kiss that baby for me!"

Mikey gave a wave. "I will."

You shook your head and chuckled. "You're on a first name basis with the bartender and he just leaves you here after close so you can keep on drinking? Should I be worried about you?"

Beau smiled sheepishly and looked down at the bar, tracing his finger through the ring of water his beer mug had left behind.

"N'ah. I don't drink much..." He shrugged. "Well, maybe still a bit more than I should," he admitted, "but I mostly stay here when I just don't feel like going home to my four empty walls. You know?"

You nodded, did you ever. "I got a cat, three fish, and a lizard, all to make me feel less alone in my apartment."

The corner of Beau's mouth lifted. "Did it work?"

You smiled ruefully and shook your head. "Not really. It's hard living alone."

Beau nodded. "Yeah it is, night time can feel real lonely."

A charged silence fell which seemed to get fuller with every second that passed. You saw Beau's eyes flick down to your mouth and you realized suddenly that you were completely alone with Beau Arlen, completely alone in a dimly lit bar, completely alone in a dimly lit bar after a few drinks and good conversation.

If you were ever going to shoot your shot, this was the moment.

As though anticipating you, Beau cleared his throat and sat up straight. "Anyway, sorry for the pity party. I should probably get you home now."

You nodded slightly. "Yeah, maybe." You said as you hopped down from your stool, crossed over to the jukebox, and pushed in a quarter.

Crazy by Patsy Cline rolled out, warm and smooth, from the speakers mounted on the wall.

"Or maybe we should have a dance or two first."

You put your hands behind your back so he couldn't see them shaking and, in what you hoped was a seductive pose, you leaned back against the jukebox.

Beau ambled across the floor towards you, until he was standing close, forcing you to crane your neck upwards to keep eye contact with him.

His smile was slow and sexy, but held just a hint of something wary.

His voice was soft as reached out his hand and gently tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. "Are you trying to seduce me, Daisy Duke?"

You shivered as he let his fingertips trail down the side of your neck and over your collarbone before coming to grip your chin.

"That depends," you said breathlessly, "is it working?"

He nodded his head reluctantly, and again a hint of something that seemed almost sad, came into his eyes. "Hell yeah it is." He said as he bent his head to claim your lips.

His mouth moved against yours gently, slowly increasing the pressure, and finally letting the tip of his tongue press lightly against your lips.

You opened your mouth immediately and sucked his tongue inside, eliciting a deep moan from him. He pushed his hands into your hair and angled your head so he could push in deeper stroking his velvety tongue along the roof of your mouth.

You refused to concentrate on the fact that your literal dream was coming true, knowing that it would just make you crazy, and instead, you found the zipper in the front of Beau's costume and unzipped it to his waist.

He moaned again and pulled back from you as you pushed the costume off his shoulders. He wore a white undershirt beneath it. It was thin and very form fitting and the sight of it stretched taut over his broad chest and thick, round shoulders made heat pool at your center.

You started to slide your hands up under the shirt, but Beau put his hands over yours to stop you.

He shook his head. "Y/N, this isn't a good idea."

His breath was rough and he leaned in to rest his forehead on yours. He panted against your mouth, giving you some hope that he'd been as affected by the kiss as you. You pulled your hands out from under his and placed them on his clothed chest.

"It isn't supposed to be a 'good' idea. It's supposed to be a bad, sinful, dirty idea. That's the whole point of seduction."

"Yeah, darlin' I know." He chuckled softly and let out a little groan as he settled his hands on your hips and pulled you flush against him, letting you feel the beginnings of his hard on beneath the thin costume.

He shook his head slowly. "And God DAMN, I've had so many dirty, bad, sinful thoughts when it comes to you!" He sucked air in through his teeth. "Seeing you every day in those little skirts and blouses, hair all pinned up like a sexy librarian."

He let out a low whistle. "Shoot, sweetheart, it's everything I can do to keep from throwing you down on the desk and taking you right there."

Your jaw fell open. "What are you talking about?" You asked in a hoarse whisper. "You barely even knew I was alive before tonight."

Beau's big hands squeezed your hips reflexively. "Like hell I didn't." He said and took advantage of your open mouth to sweep his tongue back Inside.

The kiss became heated quickly, and he shifted his two massive hands from your hips around to grab hold of your ass, caressing and squeezing it hard.

You plunged your hands back under his shirt again and moaned roughly at the feel of his warm, taut skin. You ran your hands around to his back, clutching at the muscles there as he lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his trim waist.

He walked you a few steps over to one of the round tables that dotted the room, shoving the chair aside and overturning it before he set you down on the table.

You kept your legs wrapped around him and threw your head back as he slid his lips away from your mouth, down your neck, finding your pulse point and nipping at it before sucking your sensitive skin between his lips.

You fisted your hands in his undershirt pulling him closer to you so you could reach the zipper on his costume and pull it down further so that the uniform jumpsuit fell to pool around his ankles. Underneath, he wore only a pair of red and black striped boxer briefs.

You couldn't help reaching down to wrap your hand around his cotton clad dick, proving that your many fantasies had been accurate in this regard - he was thick and long and you felt your mouth water.

Beau grunted as you squeezed him and he bucked into your hand. He yanked your t-shirt over your head in one swift movement and then brought his hands up to cup your breasts almost reverently.

He swept his thumb across your nipple, still covered by your cotton and lace bra.

"Beau!" You cried softly on an exhale, your eyes closed by the exquisite pleasure his hands were evoking.

"Shit!" You heard him growl out before he pulled away from you completely.

Your eyes sprang open in time to see him pull his costume back up, shoving his arms into the sleeves, but leaving the garment unzipped.

"I can't do this, Y/N. It's just...I can't, I'm sorry."

You felt tears prick the back of your eyes and you blinked rapidly to dispel them. You hopped off the table and reached down to pick up your t-shirt where he'd tossed it onto the floor.

This had certainly never happened in your fantasies, Beau pulling away from you and making you feel like you were some kind of creep, like you were the same as the guy from earlier who wouldn't take no for an answer.

Shit, you thought, maybe I am no better. Beau already told me once he didn't want to do this.

You turned away from him as you pulled your t-shirt back over your head.

"I'm sorry, Beau." You said quietly. "I pushed you into this, that's a jerk thing to do."

You felt his heavy hand on your shoulder as he turned you to look at him. When you glanced up at him again you knew that the tears you were fighting were noticeable because he swore softly under his breath.

"Aw, honey, please don't cry." He cursed at the ground again. "I was trying to avoid hurting you, and look what I did."

He thumbed away the one tear that escaped and stepped close to you again. "Y/N, you didn't push me into anything tonight, not at all."

He swallowed hard and the muscle in his jaw jumped. "You have no idea how much I want you. How much I wanna lay you down right here, how desperate I am to pull you apart with pleasure, to keep you coming on my tongue."

His voice was low and hypnotic, his slow drawl dragging out the words till they dripped with heat and heavy passion.

You licked your lips and watched him do the same, as you tried very hard not to leap on him once again.

Seeming to realize what he was doing, Beau pulled away again and shoved his hands through his hair.

"But, I can't. I would be an asshole to get into something like this, with someone like you."

You frowned. "What do you mean, someone like me?"

He shook his head, and continued as though he hadn't heard you.

"For four months, I've been good, I've resisted the temptation of you. But then I walked in here tonight, and saw you looking...well, looking how you do tonight, and I caved."

"Which is an asshole excuse, I know. I'm as shitty as the prick I pulled off of you."

You shook your head adamantly now. "You absolutely are not! How could you think that?"

Beau looked at you like the answer was obvious. "Y/N, I'm a disaster. I've only been divorced a year, and I still don't really know what happened there, or how it happened. Feels like we made promises to each other but she had her fingers crossed or something."

He folded his arms over his chest, and stood with his legs spread shoulder width apart. You tried not to notice how hot his stance was, or the fact that you could still see the top of his underwear.

He continued, his tone full of disgust at himself. "But what makes me feel really sleezy is the fact that I'm your boss. It's SO wrong for me to think of you like this, to act like this. I can't sleep with a woman I can also fire, it's a complete dick move."

You frowned but before you could say anything he continued.

"Y/N, from the second I saw you in the office that first day in your tight, navy blue skirt and blue and white striped blouse, I've been trying my hardest not to be a disgusting pig, to rein myself in and stop lusting over you." He shook his head. "But it's pretty much impossible."

He shook his head again. "But it's wrong of me, and...well, I'm sorry."

You took a minute to digest everything he said and then rolled your eyes. "Beau, I don't want to marry you tomorrow. There's no rush here, we don't have to try and label ourselves right away."

Beau looked like he was going to interrupt you, so you pushed forward.

"And how will you ever move on from your divorce if you never...move on? You're gonna have to take the leap eventually, so why not leap on me?"

You grinned at him and an answering smile tugged at his lips.

His second and most adamant argument had an easy solution. "And as for you being my boss...uh, no you're not."

Beau frowned deeply. "What are you talking about? I'm the Sheriff, I'm everyone's boss."

"Not mine, honey. I'm a civilian administrator. I technically work for the county." You grinned at him again. "You can't fire me, sweetie!"

He let that sink in for a moment before making you squeak with surprise as he leapt at you and picked you up, slamming you against the wall beside the jukebox.

You wrapped your legs around his waist again and held onto his biceps for balance as he pressed his lips to the delicate skin behind your ear.

You let out a little gasp of pleasure and he pulled back to look at you, worry etched into his beautiful features.

"You sure about this, though, darlin'? I'm still a complete mess. I don't know what this might turn into, and even if I'm not your boss, we still have to work together."

You leaned forward and kissed him deep and slow, only pulling away when you were going to pass out from lack of oxygen. "I'm a big girl, Beau," you panted. "If worse comes to worst, I can keep my personal and professional life separate, believe me."

A wicked gleam entered your eyes. "For example, I've worked with you every day for four months, did I ever let on that I was fantasizing about you constantly?"

Beau's eyes widened and then darkened. "Really? What kind of fantasies, honey?"

You winked at him. "It's been more than 120 days, baby, so I've got over 120 different fantasies to choose from!"

You pointed back towards the pool table. "One of my most recent ones involves me, you, a long stick and a couple balls."

Beau laughed and started carrying you towards the green felt. As he sat you on the edge of the table, you stripped off his costume and continued on to his undershirt this time without pausing, until he was wearing nothing but his boxers.

Running your hands over his well-muscled flesh while he pushed his skilful fingers down the front of your daisy dukes, causing you to cry out with need, you quickly realized something.

The reality was SO much better than the fantasy.

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spacemonkeysalsa · 2 months

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Appetites

Five years ago the Vampire Ascendant Astarion helped save Baldur's Gate. He has everything he ever wanted, and he's miserable.

Isolde is nobody, and has nothing. When given the option to become a vampire spawn, her response gives Astarion a moment of pause; “No. Thank you. I think I’ll just die.”

(Angst and fluff and smut) Changed up the format because it was starting to look so silly with 20+ chapters.

Check it out on Ao3 from the beginning or jump into chapter twenty three below the cut.

An hour into the process of trying to prepare the new spell, Astarion was drenched in sweat, and starting to feel a bit hopeless again. The transformation process that Vovka was walking him through was nothing like the more innate abilities he’d cultivated to take on various animal forms.

Gods, he hoped he could learn to do that again some day. He didn’t want to ask the cambion too many questions. It was starting to feel too much that asking for information was the same as asking for help.

The three of them had moved to Astarion’s office, Vovka directing him, prompting him to take notes, even, while Isolde just observed, standing sentinel and supportive. She wasn’t phased by much, he noted with a little pang of affection. Of course, he’d seen that in her from the beginning. It was one of the things he liked about her.

But, then there was the way she’d clung to him and cried out when he was in pain. He could clearly picture the concern on her face—it hadn’t been entirely consistent with how he saw her in his mind’s eye, acerbic and unbothered even under the most dire circumstances. It was jarring, not the least of which because she was concerned for him. He hated that, if he was honest with himself. He knew, intelligently, that she couldn’t help it, and even that he’d actively cultivated those feelings in her.

He made her care about him. Now, he wondered why. Why did he work so hard to get under her skin, when he felt such aversion to her showing any concern for him? He didn’t like feeling weak, vulnerable.

Then again, he’d let himself relax into her control the night before and that had felt good.

Being worshiped physically by someone wasn’t the same as genuine concern and affection though. And, perhaps it was just the simple fact that he hated that there was anything legitimate to be concerned about. Yes. It might not have anything to do with her at all, really.

“I have to figure this out by tomorrow—I have places to be,” Astarion finally blurted out.

“I told you, that might not work,” Vovka sat on the edge of the big wooden desk, which held up well enough that it had only scooted about an inch under his weight.

Astarion was doing circles around him, disturbed by how quickly he was learning to adjust his wings and tail to navigate the space around him so that he only occasionally knocked into the chair, the book shelf, the desk, his own legs or Vovka.

He had some experience with having a tail or wings, and so the muscle memory of controlling them was there for him to access, but not in this context, and not at this scale.

Isolde had taken up in the chair, but moved it away from the desk, so that she could observe the two of them from a distance, and within reach of one of the bookshelves on the wall. She was browsing the titles here and there, and hadn’t said a word since entering the room, but the sense that he got from her was one of pensive reflection, not moodiness. She was less upset by all this than it had initially seemed, and was taking the return of her brother with an air of stoicism that was almost cold.

The two of them weren’t quite indifferent to each other though. In fact, when Astarion wasn’t focusing all of his faculties on trying to reclaim the body he’d lost. Again. He couldn’t help but notice how both of them had adopted a comfortable stance of keeping still and quiet, and a little closed, with arms and legs crossed, but oriented towards each other, keeping each other in the corners of their eyes always.

Whatever they said, the siblings clearly needed to talk.

Later though. The present was very much about Astarion and he wasn’t about to make a single apology for that.

“Let’s take a break,” Vovka suggested, with a slight shift he cracked his back, and the effect rippled through his wings with a satisfying series of snaps.

“No. I can’t disappear from society. I need to be seen and I can’t be seen like this.” Astarion was sure he’d said it already, and from the weary blink of Vovka’s burning eyes, he was sure the cambion had heard him the first time.

The world seemed to be on Vovka’s side, however, because Astarion’s keen ears twitched as something thundered towards them from outside the room.

Being an exceptionally skilled and graceful warrior, Lae’zel could travel as light-footed as she liked, but when she wanted to stomp, she could do that too. She burst into the room without a knock, and Astarion was fairly certain that the only reason she didn’t immediately strike him with a closed fist was because the last thing in the world she had been expecting was to find him half-naked, fiend-marked, and in the company of a young cambion.

She balked, eyes narrowed, but he must have been able to convey the exasperation and modest amount of shame he felt with some success, because he watched her brilliant amber eyes flicker over the room, process the shock, and their casual acceptance of the situation and then she relaxed and said. “Well. Alright then.” And that was apparently all the reaction she had for them.

Isolde got to her feet with a sigh to relieve the tension. “We weren’t afforded the opportunity for an introduction. I’m Isolde. I gather you and Astarion had some adventures together?”

“Indeed,” Lae’zel was still looking at Astarion with narrowed eyes, but her hands weren’t in fists any longer and she crossed them, one side of her brow lifting. “Lae’zel of Crèche K'liir.” She bowed and Isolde, always quick to read the room, returned the gesture.

“This is Vovka. My brother. Helpful council in these unprecedented times.”

Vovka did not bow, but inclined his head in Lae’zel’s direction and Astarion was left with the firm impression that this alone challenged the cambion’s capacity to stand on decorum. Although, on reflection that made some sense for a person in the habit of just appearing in rooms uninvited.

Lae’zel nodded like she understood and buried any questions she might have about all that with a dry sniff and shift to her business. “Astarion and I have shared adventures together. We’ve once felled Chosen, fiends and illithid scum back to back. And we may yet again. Though I gather, he is occupied at present with many a personal matter. As am I.”

“This is, uh…” Astarion started to try and provide an explanation, even if Lae’zel didn’t need one, he wasn’t sure he wanted to allow her speculation on the subject. “A recent complication to my relationship with a certain archdevil.”

“Which one?” asked Lae’zel darkly.

“Not that one, the other one.” He stuttered over this explanation, only realizing as he spoke that he wasn’t being clear. There were rumors that so much as saying a devil’s name out loud could alert you to their presence, however. He wasn’t sure if he believed such superstitions, but the last thing he needed was to also have Raphael’s attention. Lae’zel seemed well enough to interpret what he was saying though, because she said, “Yes. I could guess as much on my own,” with an air of heavy sincerity. Lae’zel sliced him with the merest flicker of a grin, but it quickly gave way to real concern, bludgeoning and merciless as she added. “I take no pleasure in saying that I told you as much, back when you made your choice, and Wyll supported you, against my council. I understand why you took the offered power. And why you believed you needed it.”

Astarion wanted to make her explain that. Unpack all the little cautious pauses and thoughtful glances. At the same time, he wanted to never speak of it again with her, or with anyone. Especially not with any of his companions who had actually been present for the ritual, as Lae’zel had been.

“I am here for the child,” she said in a clipped tone. “You’ll not stop me a second time. If my own heart could not, then I think you understand you don’t have a chance.”

“I’m not holding Eggbert captive,” Astarion scoffed. “He doesn’t want to go with you.”

“Only because he doesn’t understand.” Lae’zel pressed, nails threatening to bite into the flesh of her palms again, but her simmering rage was a waste of energy, he held up a hand, indicating that she should let him finish. As he did so, his wings lifted, shivered involuntarily and he felt a small squirm in his stomach, his tail lashed as well. He hadn’t meant to do any of it. This was going to take some getting used to. The last thing he needed was additional appendages to give away his feelings, even to those closest to him.

“That may be true,” said Astarion evenly, once he was sure that Lae’zel wasn’t about to interrupt him at a shout. “In all likelihood, that is true. And the child is nothing to me, and I do believe you are probably his best possible caretaker. So, why don’t you go prove that and try talking to the child and convincing him to leave with you?”

“I did try—” but Lae’zel face colored and she let out a low breath mingled with a muffled, “tsk'va.”

“Did you really?” asked Astarion dryly.

“Circumstances were… tense,” Lae’zel huffed. “And things have barely calmed down. Shadowheart could be back any moment.”

“Will she be? Did you not come up with some clever way to detain her? Not like you to let a strategic advantage slip away.” But he regretted saying it the moment he spoke. That wasn’t entirely true when it came to Shadowheart. Lae’zel made a lot of exceptions for her, and he saw the shadow of hurt in her gaze. He sighed, neither willing, nor perhaps even capable of comforting her on this topic. “Eggly is only my ward by his own will, and the convenience of my—apparently many softhearted members of the household. If he wishes to go with you, we’ll let him go. The rest is entirely your problem, my friend.”

Lae’zel seemed satisfied with that, if not happy. “Fine.” She moved as if to take her leave, then stopped, eyes narrowed on Astarion. “I’m meant to meet with Wyll later today.”

Astarion’s stomach dropped, because he knew exactly what her warning tone implied. She was going to tell him that Astarion had been punished for an infraction on the deal with Mephistopheles. He thought about protesting, but his throat was all twisted, his tongue heavy in his mouth. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing, if Wyll knew that Astarion had also been marked as a fiend. Perhaps he’d have some advice. It wasn’t the kind of thing that Astarion would ever ask for, but it was exactly the kind of thing that Wyll would think of, unasked, given the merest hint of need. It was just too bad that the price would undoubtedly be Wyll’s own scrutiny.

Lae’zel stepped out into the hallway but added, “expect him to call a little later,” before she shut the door.

“...She didn’t mean Duke Wyllyam Ravenguard? Did she?” Vovka asked with a chuckle as the door shut.

Isolde’s eyes got wide, as this was clearly not something she’d considered, “did she?!”

“The very devil,” said Astarion.

Vovka’s dark chuckle deepened, “he killed a buddy of mine once—deserved,” he added, with a shrug. “But, still, good time to step out—”

“—I know this isn’t your problem,” Astarion would not beg, “and I can practice on my own for a while, but I need to learn this. Fast.”

“I’ll be back later,” said Vovka reasonably, “besides, I’m late to check in with my warlock anyway.”

“You will be back though?” Isolde sounded like she was barely containing herself, but she wouldn’t beg either.

Vovka regarded her a moment, his mouth almost turning into a frown. In the end, he didn’t reassure her or repeat himself, and that felt pointed. Instead, he approached her, planting a firm kiss on the top of her head before he quit them by way of a portal conjured by that mismatched ring he wore on his finger.

Isolde looked at Astarion with an infuriating mixture of pity and hope. He couldn’t meet her eyes, found his gaze listing to the floor instead.

“There must be something you can wear?” she asked cautiously, the need to help as well as an awareness of just how upset he was somehow so painfully apparent in her voice that it made his jaw clench. He resisted the urge to lash out at her.

Nothing he owned would accommodate wings, and the only clothing tailored for tails belonged to Aurelia. It would be too tight, and besides that, was also purposefully designed to make her look like a small planetouched version of their hateful former master. He’d rather go naked. “Shame it didn’t happen at Figaros,” Astarion muttered.

Isolde’s attention fell on the desk for a few minutes, and she leafed through the ledger curiously while Astarion brooded in silence for a stretch of uncomfortable minutes.

It was unproductive brooding. His mind whirled in circles. So many problems. No decent solutions. Was there someone he could kill? Perhaps what he really needed was to be good and blooddrunk for a few hours.

Gods, he was going to look terrifying swooping down on some victim like this.

Isolde softly drew his attention away from his wandering mind with a sweeping gesture to his books, “Is this what you do in here all day? Maths?”

“Sometimes. Today? I can’t,” he knew he sounded moody, pouting, it grated his own ears to hear himself take such an undignified tone, and for some reason it bothered him immensely that Isolde was around to hear it. “I can’t focus on any of it.” It wasn’t like it was going to help anyway.

Isolde examined the books with a slight frown. “This is very broad business. It looks as though you’re examining the whole of your assets.”

That was exactly what he was doing, and he could only assume she picked up on it so quickly because he was still in the process of curating each category of wealth. “Barnes got a head start on me. I’m really just confirming what he’s already told me. The total worth of the estate.”

“Why are you trying to determine the estate’s total worth? You’re thinking of selling it?” Isolde cocked an eyebrow at him, a little confusion wrinkling her features.

It was a strange notion, but not as strange as the truth. Trying to sell an estate as large and with as much history and baggage as Szarr Palace would not be a simple process. Not to mention, attempts to leave the city he’d so effectively rooted himself into would suggest dire circumstances indeed. Astarion considered Isolde a moment, then with a sigh, decided that the truth of the matter wouldn’t hurt. She could tell him what a fool he was, and he’d have to agree with her. “I once held the acquaintance of a primordial god. Jergal, we’ve always assumed, though he never confirmed our assumptions. He toddled along with us, as insurance. For whatever reason, there was quite a lot riding on our success in a certain… endeavor.”

Stallworth as always in the face of utter nonsense, Isolde only nodded, following, even if that expression of confusion still shadowed her black eyes.

“We didn’t entirely trust him, truth be told, so we didn’t test the limits of his services. He offered us, essentially, an endless supply of scrolls of true resurrection, for the deeply discounted price of two hundred gold each.”

“Two hundred gold?” Isolde’s eyes lit up. It was probably a lot of wealth for her, but a scroll of true resurrection was priceless, and it seemed she could appreciate the bargain.

“Like I said, we tried not to test it. I never perished during our time together. I like to think they would’ve brought me back if I had, but—” he shrugged, cutting himself off, “I guess we’ll never know. In any case, others in our party did have need of his services, and we did offer up the gold to resurrect them, and---probably Jergal—obliged. Until our task was complete. Then, we were left to our own devices, free to die with no further interference.”

“That’s fascinating,” Isolde was shaking her head, perhaps a subtle expression of disbelief, but she bit her lip and met his eyes again, “what does that have to do with your wealth now?”

“Well,” Astarion scoffed a little at himself in anticipation of what he was about to say. It was a rather embarrassing train of thought. “Ever since bringing Aurelia back, and especially since Aurelia brought back Leon, I was thinking about all that again. And I couldn’t help but wonder, if I were to track down the clattering old skeleton, if he could be persuaded to honor his prices from five years ago.”

“You mean, two hundred gold per resurrection?” and in her face, the thought finally took hold and he watched her eyes widened as she followed this train of thought to its utterly mad logical conclusion. “You want to buy back the mortal lives of seven thousand spawn?”

When she said it like that, it put his present state into sharper perspective. He held a finger to his lips. Vovka might’ve stepped out, but that didn’t mean the hells weren’t monitoring them. “I don’t want to do anything,” he corrected her. “I’m not… entertaining notions,” he clarified, firmly. “I just wondered how much that would cost me, theoretically, and then I wondered, how much do I actually have on hand, in wealth and in assets?”

“And?” Isolde seemed genuinely interested. He’d really been anticipating a bit more realistic excoriation from her. As if reading his thoughts she added, “if it’s just a hypothetical, it doesn’t hurt to tell me what you’ve learned.”

His mouth twitched, almost a smile, but he couldn’t quite commit to it. He felt a strange ache in his chest as he looked at her, and he was afraid it might easily be because she was so hopeful. He knew better. His silly, passing thought of a plan was nothing at all. All the same, “if the books are to be believed than the amount of gold I would need to part with, is roughly equivalent to my entire estate at its present value.”

“Everything you own.”

“Precisely.”

She nodded and again, he saw that gravity in her that only came with growing hope, the kind that mortal fools cultivated. She wanted to believe that it meant something that the amounts were the same. All it really meant was that the fates had a sense of humor. Even if he could track down Withers and offer the deal, the shambling undead god wouldn’t accept it.

“It was just a thought,” Astarion said again, discouraged anew by seeing her thinking through the same pointless theories that he’d mulled over the night before while she lay asleep in his arms.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion #ascended astarion

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skalecsz · 1 year

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If you could how would you fix ino's development

i love you and also im sorry.

ino is such an interesting character, kishimoto took your average pretty mean girl and made her actually super sweet and caring, adaptable, and intelligent

i actually like her personality a lot, she values her looks and can be a bit crabby but compared to sakura, ino is a lot more willing to work with her teammates. she actively takes charge to the point that shikamaru and choji look to her for what to do

id keep her "crush" on sasuke but id instead make it something that sakura misinterpreted and ino went along with bc she thought sakura just didnt want to be friends anymore. she still flirts with sasuke but in a joking way.

id keep her rivalry with sakura but makes it explicit that she wasnt the one that instigated it, id also make her less "mean" in a stereotypical bully way since she was the one that defended sakura from bullies in the first place. she should still be sassy and a bit of a hot head but not overtly rude to others.

also id have her win her fight with sakura, just bc i think it contributes better to sakura's development, but also opens up an extra fight in the chunin exams. not sure who id pit her against but im just saying it would give her more stuff to do (maybe shino? they were both top students at the academy)

she goes on the sasuke retrieval mission and stays behind to help choji fight. theres no reason that she shouldnt go, choji can still almost die and ino can use the time he bought her to finish off orochimaru's lackey but ino has PROVEN to be a good ninja, even if her fighting isnt that great shes fantastic crowd control…come the fuck on.

development wise…no healing abilities…it just felt so tacked on and she didn't nearly have as much passion for it as sakura did. id focus 100% on her clan's reconnaissance bc their abilities are super interesting. would def give her an upgrade regarding her body switching jutsu so shes not left unconcious on the ground with every technique. when shes a genin thats fine but ur telling me sasuke can summon God and ino still can't control people without falling asleep?

okay the puppet scene with the "Mind Puppet Switch Cursed Seal Technique" literally has not left my mind its SO cool and I wish ino learned to use it. is it "ethical"? no. might even be a war crime. but thats fine i think. let ino be a little scary.

AND!!! SUNA LITERALLY HAS A PUPPET MASTER!!! Ino can train with kankuro or at least ASK for assistance

ALSO. OH MY GOD. GIVE HER MORE TO DO IN THE HIDAN AND KAKUZU ARC HOLY SHIT. that arc literally just ended up being about shikamaru (based) and naruto (???) why weren't ino and choji more present!! naruto literally appeared to save the day with his new jutsu when this mission shouldve been team 10 and team 10 ONLY (kakashi is on thin ice)

i like the confrontation between shikamaru and hidan in the forest, thats fine, but ino and choji should be absolutely duking it out with kakazu and his family of puppets! you know who else uses puppets/external tools? INO. Have her try to control kakuzu's external guys while choji beats him up, naruto arriving on the scene feels cheap :/ have kakuzu remark that "oh the strategist is gone" and then ino just immediately takes over as the leader and thinks of a plan because shes teammates with shikamaru's lazy ass and also BEING SMART IS LITERALLY SO IMPORTANT TO HER CHARACTER

AND GIVE HER (AND CHOJI) A SCENE WHERE SHE MOURNS ASUMA. OH MY GOD. HER FUCKING TEACHER JUST DIED. Ino is sidelined sooo much in team 10 its insane. maybe she and her dad (while not super close) talk about what its like to lose people you love, her dad has been a ninja for decades, he would comfort her. have her arrange a bouquet and place it on asuma's grave, have her break down crying over her teacher! this would also be interesting since we dont spend as much time with team 10, but would be able to see that the side characters have their own lives and feelings outside of naruto.

regarding romance ive personally always seen her as a lesbian but her relationship with sai is fine i guess. if she and sai are endgame id like more of a buildup to it. but if i can get my way she and sakura end up together <3

i think shes fine in the war arc, but the war arc itself is something i just wouldnt include if i were to rewrite naruto

also her blank period outfit is UGLY throw that shit OUT girl

#naruto rewrite #ino yamanaka #mine #sorry for rambling im just angry at how dirty the manga did her #she and tenten are tied for most abandoned characters :(

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tobeblamed · 1 year

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Excuse me let me walk through the door here - talk to me about the first time dean told lisa he loved her 🥺

god i'm soft just thinking about it okay so.

it was a casual tuesday afternoon ; ben was at school. the two of them were doing chores around the house. dean had been helping out with all kinds of chores, primarily because it helped him keep busy and thus, keep his mind distracted. it also allowed him to contribute to the family who took him in and was slowly starting to feel like his own.

that tuesday, he took it upon himself to use the new, fancy vacuum cleaner that lisa had recently bought to make their lives easier when it came to house cleaning. dean, however, had avoided using it ever since it was first brought home because it looked a bit complicated to use. in his defense, there were a lot of buttons on that thing, and the chances of messing around with the apparatus and breaking it by accident were high. so, up until that day, he'd stick to using a sweeper and clean the traditional way. but that tuesday afternoon, his newfound confidence encouraged him to give it a try. he didn't ask lisa for help ; he simply announced to her that he felt ready to take it upon himself and use the fancy vacuum cleaner. his task started out smoothly and, he was halfway through already when he realized he was getting the hang of it. he was proud. he kept flashing proud grins at lisa too to let her know that he was, in fact, doing it.

and then the time came when he needed to scrub the rugs clean ; and to do that, he needed to change the settings. " damn it, come on. " he could swear he was almost close to cracking it. but that electric device was far too intelligent that it would shut down on impact. and it shut down multiple times on him when all he was trying to do was get it to work. lisa was supposed to be working in the garden at the time, so he didn't ask for her help, as he wanted to finish his part.

but she came inside nonetheless — maybe she suspected it from the lack of noise coming out of the vacuum. as dean knelt beside the vacuum cleaner, looking all defeated, lisa approached and gave him a helping hand by explaining to him that she also a bit of trouble remembering how to use it ... which was why she had written numbers on each of the buttons with a marker to remind herself each step.

dean stared at her for a bit, eyes looking in awe. lisa smiled at him, feeling a bit nervous at his silence. that was when dean chuckled as he exhaled a cheeky, " i love you ". lisa's smile faded slightly as her eyes widened and her lips parted ; her talklessness was far from silent, because although she didn't utter a word, her entire expression was practically begging dean to reflect on what he had just uttered and not dismiss it as a casual expression of endearment.

but dean didn't take back what he said. in fact, he owned it. as he stared back at her widened, pleading eyes, he nodded as he silently confirmed to her that he did, in fact, reflect. he did, in fact, mean it.

#headcanon.#l1sabraeden #hey ............

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soulmate-game · 3 years

Text

Hawkmoth was a bitch, and Marinette meant that with every fiber of her soul. Fu was also a bitch, and Marinette actually had good memories of the guy. Not many, but she had some. The fact that the guy got two ten-year-olds to become super heroes and fight a supervillain for him kinda soured those memories, though. But with Chat Noir not allowed to leave his house? Yeah, even as young as they were it only took about a year to find out who HawkMoth was and another year to take him down.

Except, that left Marinette alone. The final battle took her mom away, and Chat had to move out of Paris after his dad was arrested. Luckily Jagged allowed her and her papa to move into his house in Gotham, and everything was…

Well, it was okay. For about a month.

Then her dad was gone too, and she had no way to talk to Jagged, and the police were scaring her—

Yeah, that was the basic order of events that led to where she was now. Pushing fourteen years old, ex-superhero, protector of a magical box of gods, stealing the tires off of a very nice motorcycle.

Marinette was tempted to just take the whole thing, she loved bikes and knew she could drive it. But the thing had more security than she knew what to do with, and the fact that it belonged to Red Hood… she didn’t want to deal with trackers today, thanks. So the tires it was.

Should she maybe care more about the fact that she was stealing from a vigilante with a violent streak? Maybe. Did she? Hell no. For all she knew, maybe Red Hood was a bitch too. (Yes, she was still learning English slang. She was fluent by educational standards, but learning how to curse in a foreign language was fun and she still had a little bit to go. Her few street friends were very happy to help).

A shadow dropped down in front of her, and Marinette’s hero instincts kicked in. The tire iron she was using cut through the air, slamming right into the side of Red Hood’s knee.

—*—*—*—*—*

“Hood,” Batman’s voice grumbled over the comms, instantly grabbing the attention of everyone else who was on the comms. It wasn’t as gruff as he usually sounded, in fact it almost sounded like… he was trying not to laugh?

“Did you get gassed by Joker?” Dick asked before Jason got a chance to respond. “Need backup?”

“No,” Batman responded, sounding a little more composed. “Not a rogue. But Hood, I need you to join me at my location as soon as possible.”

Finally getting the chance to talk, Jason responded a little warily; “Sure, B. Wait,” he blinked at the location that was sent to him. “Isn’t that where my bike is parked?”

Batman didn’t respond at first, only the sound of labored breathing— again, as if he was trying not to laugh. “Just get here, Hood.”

Sighing, but not too mad since the night had been fairly quiet so far, Jason decided to humor the old man and head over. When he could see the cape-clad back of Batman, he easily leapt over the last roof and sauntered over.

“Okay, B,” he had his thumbs tucked in his pockets as he drawled. “What’s the issue?”

Batman was grinning. As in, actually showing amusement. And he just pointed down, straight at Hood’s bike.

Jason rolled his eyes under his helmet, turning to look. At first he didn’t see anything amiss, until he saw movement and looked harder. Oh. Oh, holy shit.

“Is that a kid?”

“Yep,” Batman’s grin grew.

“Is she… stealing my tires?” Hood was so, so glad he wore a helmet that hid his expression. Because… wow.

“Yep,” Batman finally lost his composure, chuckling. “This seems like Karma, don’t you think?”

“And you just watched her so you could rub it in,” Jason groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation. Of course he would. Nobody knew it (except the other heroes who knew him) but Batman was a petty little jerk when he wanted to be. He bought the whole Daily Planet just to spite Clark, for crying out loud.

“Don’t adopt her,” Batman said as he stood up, patting Red Hood’s shoulder. “It looks like she’s almost done.”

“Shit,” Jason hissed, looking down to see that she was, actually, very close to being done. She had already had one tire completely free by the time he had arrived, and now she was only seconds away from getting the other one completely free.

He took a quick assessment— she was tiny, and really thin. Definitely a street kid, he thought, though he didn’t recognize her. He knew most of the street kids that stole to get by, nowadays, which meant she must have been fairly new. But even though she seemed to know what she was doing, her small frame made her take longer unscrewing the tires than it normally would have taken. Sure that she wasn’t a threat by any stretch of the imagination, he jumped down. His plan had been to startle her a little by showing up out of nowhere, but he didn’t want to scare her too badly. Just make her jump a little.

But he had underestimated her, it seemed. Without wasting a second, she jumped up and swung her tire iron at his knee. He cursed, she was a lot faster than her had been expecting. He was able to move so that the weapon only clipped the side of his knee, his knee pad thankfully taking the worst of it. She still hit hard enough to make him stumble and hiss in pain though, which was an accomplishment.

That’s when she abandoned her weapon and her tires, darting to try and escape only for Batman to drop down and block her escape. Though really, it was the grin Batman had that scared the girl most of all, apparently, making her slowly back away from him.

“Please stop smiling,” she begged with a faint French accent to her words. “It is not natural.”

That made Red Hood laugh, already recovered and right behind her. He plopped a gloved hand on her head.

“I know, it’s creepy right?” He joked. “What’cha doin’ stealing my tires, kid? I kinda need them to drive anywhere,” he was careful to keep his voice light and devoid of any anger. He wasn’t really upset, all told. It would be hypocritical of him if he was.

She looked between the two vigilantes for a moment, clear intelligence behind those bright blue eyes as she seemed to consider something. Suddenly she pulled away from Red Hood and stepped away from his reach, straightening up and trying to look tall.

“My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said as firmly as she could. “My father was Tom Dupain, he was killed in a mugging three months ago. We were living in a house that our family friend leant to us after my mother’s death six months ago, and we moved here from Paris. I haven’t been able to contact him, and the police… I don’t trust them,” she admitted, clearly seeing this as the chance she had been waiting for. “I have been living on the streets since my father died. I am sorry for trying to steal your tires, Monsieur Red Hood. But it was a risk I had to take.”

“Did you expect us to catch you?” He asked, crossing his arms as he re-evaluated the girl. She was a lot stronger than he had assumed earlier, both physically and mentally. She seesawed her hand to indicate ‘kinda’.

“Even if you didn’t, I could make good money off your tires,” she justified with a shrug. “To me, I would win either way.”

“Who is your family friend? Can he help you now, take you in?” Batman asked, moving forward and kneeling down to be closer to Marinette’s height. Neither he nor Jason had missed the part where she was an orphan, but they had expected that considering what they had caught her doing. And they both knew that she wasn’t likely to take any apologies they tried to offer very well. It was best not to show pity, or she might get angry.

Marinette frowned. “... Our family friend is Jagged Stone. He lets me call him Uncle Jagged,” she told them, clearly expecting the disbelieving grunts they gave. “I mean it! You can call him, he might even be looking for me! I—“

“We know,” Hood assured her, now kneeling down as well. Man, she was short. “Calm down, we know you’re telling the truth. Jagged has made several public announcements about his missing honorary niece, we just didn’t recognize your name right away. And Jagged doesn’t have access to very many pictures of you, those he does have the Mayor isn’t allowing him to show because that spineless jackass—“

“Language, Hood.”

“—Cares more about keeping bad press off the air than finding a kid, even if it’s a world famous rockstar who’s asking. That’s probably why you haven’t heard anything, the mayor’s keeping it off the radio and not many reporters are brave enough to take the story and get on his bad side.”

“Oh…” Marinette took a deep breath, fighting the tears that were threatening to rise up. “He has been looking…” she sniffled, curling in on herself a little. “Can you take me to him?”

“I think we can do that,” Batman agreed, standing up. “I’ll contact him. Red Hood, can you handle everything here until I give you a place to meet up with Jagged Stone?”

Jason nodded. “No problem, B. Come on, little rabid pixie. Step one of gettin’ you back to your uncle is to help me fix my bike back up.”

Marinette sighed, shoulders dropping. “All my hard work, undone…” she playfully complained. But in the end she didn’t argue or fight against it, she just sat down and helped him reattach his tires.

All the while, Jason’s family kept teasing him over the comms. Clearly they were also thoroughly amused by the cosmic display of karma.

“...Monsieur Hood,” Marinette asked once they were done repairing the motorcycle and he had given her his too-big extra helmet. He tilted his head a bit to show he was listening. She squirmed. “Can… can we stop by my hideout? I have something really important I have to get.”

Jason smiles gently under his mask. She might not have been a street kid for very long, but she really did bring back some memories for him. He got on his bike and held a hand out to her.

“Sure thing kid. Wanna grab something to eat after? Can’t have a reunion on an empty stomach.”

She gave him a lopsided smile— not quite overjoyed, but definitely hopeful and thankful. Maybe this was the end of her streak of bad luck, she could only hope.

“Only if you don’t mind, Monsieur Hood,” she agreed before taking his hand and letting him help her onto the bike.

“No skin off my back, pixie,” he assured her. Then they were off. He followed her directions until they got to an abandoned building about three miles away, not in a good part of town at all but at least not in crime alley. Marinette easily led him through the building, skirting around other piles of ratty blankets and up broken stairs until they got to the badly-maintained top floor. She led him over to an almost invisible door in the concrete wall that pulled out to reveal what was probably a broom closet once upon a time. It was crowded with what looked like junk and empty boxes, along with a few blankets and two or three changes of clothes that were clearly her’s. A few belongings scattered around— a book, a small pink purse, and… Marinette came out of the pile of mess holding what had clearly been a very carefully hidden box. She also grabbed the purse and slung it over her shoulder, but didn’t seem worried about anything else.

Jason frowned at the box. It wasn’t that big, but it was clearly made of old wood. There were intricate carvings that were painted pink, in a symbol that was itching at the back of his mind. He recognized that symbol, but from where?

“Ready to go, kid?” He asked as he thought about it, getting a nod from Marinette. Twenty minutes later they were at a Batburger, sitting in a shaded booth that couldn’t be seen from the street.

She never let the box out of her sight. She kept it on the seat next to her, and Jason noticed that she tried to keep one hand on it at all times. But when she spoke, now her French accent stood out to him even more than before. But why—?

And then it clicked. Paris. Hawkmoth. Ladybug, Chat Noir, magic artifacts called Miraculous. Wonder Woman had raised a fuss when the heroes disappeared, declaring that something was wrong but she couldn’t put her finger on what. Then the magic users they trusted were called in, and returned from Paris with the grim news that the former Guardian of those artifacts had activated a failsafe and passed the guardianship on to someone else while erasing his own memories at the same time. But nobody knew who he could have passed it on to, so Batman had been given the green light to do all the research he and his team could into the Miraculous box to try and help track it down.

And here it was. The carvings were in pink now, which might have been the “cosmetic change” that Constantine had mentioned might happen when the box changed guardians. He had found the box full of super powerful magical artifacts… in the hands of a newly orphaned street kid who couldn’t have been older than fourteen at best.

What the hell?

“...” Red hood reached into his pocket and pulled out an old receipt and a sharpie. He scrawled on the back of the receipt and handed to Marinette. The girl was halfway into a bite of her burger when he did, and blinked at him owlishly before swallowing and cautiously reaching out to grab it. She frowned at the numbers scrawled there.

“What’s this?” She asked.

“My contact info,” he explained. “I won’t ask questions about why you have that box,” he watched her instantly stiffen but continued as casually as he could; “but it doesn’t matter. You can call me if you ever need help with anything, kid. Help with that box, help if you get in trouble in Gotham again, or even if you’re having a bad day. You can call me for whatever, got it? I don’t care if you think it’s stupid, if you can’t talk to anyone else in your life you can always call or text me and I’ll do whatever I can. Got it?”

“...” Marinette sniffled for a second and looked down at the table in silence for a second. “... what if I want your motorcycle?” she joked, but the watery tone of her voice gave her away.

Jason laughed, patting her head. “I need my bike, but we can talk about getting you your own once you are old enough to get a license. You almost done? Bats says that Jagged is ready to meet you, I can take you to him right now.”

“Yeah, lets go!” she was newly energized and shoved the last bite of burger into her mouth greedily. “And Red Hood?” She asked as they headed out to where he had parked.

“Yeah, kid?”

“Thanks.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Permanent tag list (I remembered it this time!)

@rosalineandrosemary @neakco @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @trippingovermyfeet @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @bigpicklebananatree @fantasylover-92 @prongs-flowers @jumpingjoy82 @prettylittlebutterflie @queenz-z @literaryhiraeth @waffelyunsure @deathssilentapproach-blog @waiting247 @theirlmikan @unoriginalmess

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #dc x miraculous #soulmate-game #platonic jasonette

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

A new servant desperately struggles to understand what exactly Merlin is:

A cryptid? Arthur's boyfriend? Simply a dude? The court jester? Something else entirely? Who knows, certainly not the new guy.

The first time the new kitchen-hand, Tristan, saw The King’s dark-haired servant sprinting down the corridor, he couldn’t tell if the man was laughing or crying.

He was fast, faster than Tristan thought possible for someone whose arms were so full of laundry, but he politely steps out of the way, coming to the conclusion that he must’ve been late for something. At least... he did think that, until he turns the next corner to see three of The king’s most trusted knights peering out of windows and into random doors. Tristan freezes in the corridor, he’d heard that servants were treated extremely well here, but he’d only been employed for a few days and he didn’t want to risk anything by pushing past or addressing his betters.

One of the knights, Sir Leon, his brain helpfully supplies, spots him stood there, and his annoyed frown quickly morphs into a friendly smile:

“Pardon me, sorry, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Merlin around anywhere, have you?”

Tristan’s eyes go wide and the grip he has on his tray tightens, but he forces himself to take a breath and answer, trying his best to keep his voice even:

“Merlin is... The King’s manservant? Tall, with dark hair?”

Another knight pushes forward, he looks to be the oldest, with dark hair falling in an almost deliberately tousled way around his bearded jawline. His charming grin seems just a little too wide to be genuine, but Tristan isn’t quite sure if that’s because he’s about to take pleasure in punishing someone, or if he’s just being polite to a stranger:

“Yeah, yeah that’s him, seen him? Arsehole turned our shirts pink in the wash, and something tells me it was deliberate.”

Tristan gulps at the accusation and he takes a shaky step back, but before he can even think of defending the stranger that he now thinks must’ve been crying, the last of the three knights, a giant, if Tristan believed in such things, steps forward:

“Don’t worry, we won’t beat him too much.”

He says it with a grin and a quirk of his eyebrows, but once again the kitchen-hand can’t tell if it was cruel or genuine, if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Uh... yeah, he turned left at the end of this corridor, but I didn’t see where he went after that, I apologise.”

Sir Leon waves away his apology with a smile, looking to the long-haired knight with a raised eyebrow:

“The stables?”

The man grins widely, nodding his agreement as he turns his grin to the giant. Sir Leon offers Tristan another soft smile, murmuring his thanks before moving past him, elbowing the other two to prompt them in to thanking him as well. The three of them march down the corridor with almost vindictive smiles on their faces, and Tristan prepares himself to see a vacancy note, or possibly a funeral invite, posted on the notice board by the next morning.

When he passes a window that evening to see the King’s manservant being carried on the giant’s shoulders as five other knights pelt them with gloves, a grin on every face, he decides that... well... it’s probably best to just not to ask.

The next time he sees Merlin, a few days later, The King is also there.

This is the first time Tristan has been in Arthur Pendragon’s presence, and though the other servant’s all rave on about how awkwardly kind he is, he’s a bundle of nerves. Not even Cook’s stories about how often she whacks The King’s knuckles with a wooden spoon when she catches him about to pilfer something stops Tristan’s heart from racing.

The King was overseeing a few of the servants decorate the main hall for a feast, and whilst Tristan is certain that that’s not something The King normally does, he doesn’t question it, just thinks that maybe the other servants had been telling the truth, and he was a genuinely nice, but normal man.

Merlin stands at his side, and though Tristan can’t hear their conversation, the two of them are clearly bickering over something. The servant can’t help his curiosity, wanting desperately to move closer to find out what sort of things The King allows his servant to bicker with him about; luckily, the table right next to them has yet to be laid, so he moves towards it quickly. He doesn’t even glance at them, terrified of being caught out, but perhaps Merlin surviving the knights non-wrath the other day is encouraging him, and his steps don’t falter. Their words come in to focus, and he has to stop the confused, and slightly horrified, frown from spreading across his face:

“Arthur, I swear to the Gods, if you make me wear that hat again, I’ll piss in your wine and serve it to you in front of a crowd.”

The King scoffs just as Tristan shakily begins laying down the cutlery:

“That’s treason, Merlin.”

“Do I look like I care? Not only will I piss in your wine, I will not hesitate to push you over a balcony at the first opportunity. This hall is high up and it’s a long way down to the gardens. He drank toxic wine and turned loopy and tipped himself off a balcony and went splat! That’s what people will say. I’m not wearing the Godamn hat.”

Tristan has to focus extra carefully to stop himself from gasping; Merlin just threatened to kill The King... that’s got to be a death sentence. Pissing off some knights that he’s obviously friendly with is one thing, but threatening to kill The-

“Ha ha. Very funny. If you can’t tell, Merlin, I’m being sarcastic, I know you struggle with complex concepts like that.”

Merlin just rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he says with no hesitation:

“My mind is more than capable of coping, My Lord, it’s your belt I worry about being able to cope nowadays.”

Tristan bites his tongue to stop himself from yelping and turns away so neither of them can see his horrified face. The King just makes an outraged noise in the back of his throat, and Tristan can hear Merlin snort in laughter at whatever expression Arthur was wearing to match such a noise:

“Go to the stocks. I want you there for three hours.”

Tristan lets out a confused breath; Merlin threatens to kill The King, and gets playful sarcasm, but he implies The King might be a tad overweight, and gets sent to the stocks for three hours? How is that-

“Yeah... no. Not happening. The feast starts in less than two hours and I still have to help Guinevere organise some stuff in the courtyard, do Gaius’ rounds for him, then put an extra hole in your belt and help you get dressed because, despite being a grown man, you’re still an idiot who’s incapable of putting clothes on in any sort of decent manner.”

Tristan finds himself relaxing a little. This seems to be the norm for them, but surely... surely The King had a line somewhere, and a servant just flat out refusing to be disciplined must be where it lies?

Arthur just scoffs, and Tristan angles his head in such a way that he can see him roll his eyes:

“Fuck off.”

Merlin grins, seeming to cast a suspicious gaze over the room to make sure no one was watching and somehow completely missing Tristan stood just there, before saying quietly:

“You love me really, you prat.”

With that, Merlin reaches up to yank at a lock of The King’s hair before hurrying off in the direction of the courtyard before Arthur can react. The King jumps slightly, clearly caught by surprise as an annoyed flush rises on his face, but Tristan just frowns in confusion when his shock gives way to a softly amused smile.

Huh.

The next few times Tristan saw Merlin made him fear for the servant’s safety. He was being taken on hunts by The King and his knights, that’s meant to be for squires, to learn the ropes and gain experience in tracking and riding.

He supposes it isn’t entirely unheard of for a servant to follow their master on a hunt, but with the way Merlin complains without pause, and The King in turn complains about his complaining, he thinks it would better for everyone if Merlin just... didn’t go. When he brings it up to another servant, a lovely woman named Guinevere who had helped him get unlost at least three times in his first week, she just laughs and smiles at him pityingly:

“I wouldn’t worry, those two have been like that forever, they’re practically inseparable.”

Tristan responds with a rather intelligent sounding:

“...What?”

Gwen laughs softly again, shaking her head and patting his shoulder consolingly:

“You’ll get used to it, they’re just... like that.”

She gives him one more smile before turning to wave the boys out of the gates and walking back to the castle as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Tristan supposes that it probably is.

The next time Tristan sees Merlin leave the city gates with the knights, Sir Elyan, Sir Mordred, and Sir Lancelot this time, it’s distinctly worse. Because he’d caught sight of the patrol rota last time he ran food down to the training ground, and he was certain that those three had a city patrol right about now.

Before he even has time to gape in shock, he hears Merlin’s pleading voice as he trails Sir Elyan like a lost puppy:

“Please, El, I promise to stay out of the way, I will do anything, but I swear to the Gods if I have to spend one more minute around that prat, I’ll hurl myself from the battlements.”

Swearing to the Gods and threating to hurl various people, including himself, from significant heights seems to be some sort of theme for The King’s manservant. Before Tristan can consider the implications of that, Sir Elyan turns to Merlin with a wide, teasing grin on his face:

“You know, I would’ve let you tag along for free, Merlin, but now that you’ve promised me something I feel the need to take advantage.”

Tristan tenses at that, a shot of ice spiking down his spine. He has keen eyes and sharp ears, he knows that Sir Elyan is the lovely Gwen’s brother, Sir Mordred seems to have an... odd worship for the servant, and he’s definitely picked up on the close bond between Merlin and Sir Lancelot, but is this where Camelot’s image comes crashing down in Tristan’s head? He knew that it was better here for servant’s than other Kingdoms, but there are always people who’ll take advantage of their position, no matter where you are. Merlin’s shoulders just drop and he asks in a sulking voice:

“What do you want?”

Tristan grits his teeth, moving his gaze so no one would catch him glaring at the knight as he tries to figure out a way to help, a way to get this virtual stranger out of being... abused, in such a manner. If he’d carried on glaring, he would’ve noticed Elyan’s soft smile and amused raised eyebrow:

“Next time you gather herbs for Gaius, bring back some more of those flowers that you got for Gwen. She said they added vibrancy to the house, whatever that means, but they make her happy, so...-”

Merlin just giggles and nods and Tristan relaxes, looking back to them with a confused smile on his face. That was... actually kind of sweet, he can definitely see the resemblance between the knight and his sister:

“-AND I want whatever Arthur’s having for dinner tonight, his food always looks way nicer than ours.”

Merlin lets out a faux annoyed groan, but then rolls his eyes and grins, nodding:

“Consider it done. Can we go now? I really don’t want to risk him seeing me and giving me some stupid chore to do.”

Elyan laughs and nods, and the four of them begin making their way out of the courtyard and into the city. Sir Lancelot finally joins the conversation, clearly amused as he says:

“You know it’s literally your job to do chores, right?”

Merlin turns to glare at him as Sir Mordred and Sir Elyan laugh, and Tristan only just hears his reply as the castle gates shut behind them:

“Fuck off.”

Tristan decides it would be pointless to bring this up to anyone again, he figures he’ll probably just get the same answer as last time.

The next confusing incident happens only a few days later. But Tristan supposes that at this point... it really shouldn’t be confusing. Gwen was right, he did just... get used to it.

He heard the steps pounding down the corridor before he saw him, but they were coming fast and hard, so he presses himself against the wall, holding the tray to his side to protect it as best he could as Merlin comes skidding round the corner.

He stops just long enough for Tristan to calm himself by spying the wide grin on his face, but he’s quickly sprinting down the hall again, laughing as he waves whatever it is he’s got clutched in his hands. The second set of loud, rapid footsteps stops Tristan from stepping away from the wall quite yet. Just a moment later, Sir Gwaine follows Merlin’s skidded path around the corner, though the heavier man overshoots slightly and he runs into the wall opposite Tristan with a crash and a deep groan.

The rebellious knight gives a wide-eyed Tristan an awkward nod before pushing himself off the wall and following Merlin’s blazing trail, screaming down the corridor:

“I warned you Merlin!! Don’t come between a man and his ale, now give that back you bastard!”

Tristan hears Merlin’s laughter grow louder, even from the two corridors away that the other servant had managed to race to.

He shrugs to himself, waiting for a moment to see if anyone else was going to come barrelling around the corner before sighing, and continuing his journey up to the visiting Lord’s chambers.

It was unusual, he thought, how quickly he’d come to terms with the fact that a servant was sassing The King and pranking the knights and inviting himself on various hunts and patrols that he really had no business on. Unusual indeed.

He’d learnt to ignore it. Or at least brush it off.

In the two weeks since Merlin had (presumably) stolen Sir Gwaine’s skin of ale, he’d seen the servant call The King a long list of imaginative insults (what the hell is a dollop head?), walk around with Sir Leon’s cloak on because he was a little chilly, accuse someone of treason (and somehow been right about it), and threaten to kill at least seven people; including, but not limited to: The King himself, The King’s already dead father, some stuck up Noble (though that was under his breath, Tristan just happened to be stood next to him), and Sir Percival.

And Gwen was... absolutely right. He's just... like that. He's Merlin, and that’s what Merlin does.

So when he turns a corner in a rarely used to corridor to see him pressing The King against a wall, snogging the life out of him, Tristan simply turns around and walks back the other way. Both of them look fairly happy with the arrangement, and they’d probably chosen this corridor for the exact same reason Tristan had: it was out of everyone’s way, and was unlikely to be inhabited.

He thinks it’s odd, how... un-odd he finds it. He absent-mindedly thinks that, with the way they acted around each other, he really should’ve seen this coming. A sudden thought occurs to him, and he ducks into a storage cupboard, laying his tray down carefully as he rummages through the boxes. He lets out a quiet “Yay” when he finds what he’s looking for, carefully picking up his tray with only one hand and nudging the door open again with his hip.

He walks back towards the corner he had just turned (and turned again) making a conscious effort to keep his steps quiet; he places the danger sign, usually used where walls had collapsed or windows had been smashed, in the middle of the corridor, a clear indication of “Do Not Enter”.

He nods smugly at his quick thinking and easy handy work before mentally planning the quickest route to the kitchens and following it hurriedly.

He casually wonders if he has time to circle around to the other end of the corridor so he could put another sign down before Cook gets angry at him for being late. Probably not. At least, not before they... finish up and move on. Hmm. He suddenly panics about the thought of them seeing the sign and knowing that someone had spotted them but... well. Hopefully they would just appreciate it and move on.

Yet again, he decides not to bring this up to anyone. He may or may not have overheard a few of the knights making some sort of bet, and he may or may not want to watch on with amusement as they fail to realise that all of them have already lost.

Tristan smiles to himself; working here had turned out to be rather entertaining, in the end.

THE END

I know it’s short, but I really didn’t know what else to add without it sounding like I was just repeating myself over and over😅

I hope y’all enjoyed it!!

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mjolnir-steve · 3 years

Text

Foolish

Frank Adler x fem!Reader

Word count: 5027 (oop)

Warnings: light drinking, very brief mention of suicide, some cursing, smut (18+ ONLY!!!), unprotected sex (m/f) ... Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hi, y’all! Here’s my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817’s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge!!!! I haven’t written smut in a LONG time, so please be gentle with me LOL. Here’s what I got:

Frank Adler

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Breeding / mutual pining 🥴

I’d like to dedicate this to @rodrikstark for always sharing the Frank Adler feels and @sparkledfirecracker for bullying me (with love) into finishing this. ❤️

If you like this fic, please comment and reblog!!! I hope you enjoy. :)

Fridays never seemed to come soon enough. You looked forward to the beginning of the weekend as much as the next person, but over the last few months, Friday nights took on new meaning for you. You moved to the trailer park a little less than a year ago, wanting to buy a small place of your own and start making a home for yourself. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t expensive, and it was only a ten-minute drive from your office where you’d just secured a promotion. Roberta, the manager, helped you make it feel like home right away, insisting on going with you to pick out paint samples and providing copies of menus for the best take-out in the area.

Before long, Roberta introduced you to the trailer park’s resident certified genius, Mary Adler. Mary and Roberta spent Saturday mornings with you when you were free, which unfortunately, was pretty much all the time. You played games, sang karaoke, and even let Mary’s one-eyed cat Fred come over. He took a liking to your swinging chair in the living room, and if Mary couldn’t find him at home, odds were he somehow squeezed through your window and ended up in that chair.

Another two months had passed, though, before you met Mary’s uncle and guardian, Frank. You came to learn that Mary stayed with Roberta every Friday night because “Frank needs time to be an adult” and she was not allowed to come back to the house until noon on Saturdays. This information made you feel like Frank must be some kind of sad, perpetual fuckboy. You were right about the sad part, not so much about the latter. One morning while Mary played with your watercolors, Roberta let slip - ironically over a cup of tea - that Frank did have the occasional hookup, but usually, he drank himself sleepy on Friday nights and just needed the time to himself. He worked himself to the bone as a boat mechanic, often late into the night because it was too hot to do some jobs during the day. Frank took Mary in when she was just a baby after his sister, her mother, tragically committed suicide. He spent the majority of his scarce free time with Mary, so when Mary was still a toddler, Roberta offered the Friday night deal. Frank countered that he would do any repairs in the trailer park for free, but she refused to let him do that work without pay, saying he deserved to have a life, too.

She also informed you that Frank was a former philosophy professor, single, and very attractive, especially if you were into the rugged thing. You rolled your eyes with an amused exhale and took another sip of your tea. You’d be lying if you said your interest wasn’t piqued. Mary then shouted over her shoulder, confirming that she’d been listening to your entire conversation, “Frank is great, but he’s a grump. Good luck cracking that egg.” You snorted, nearly spitting out your tea, and she went back to reading your color theory book to Fred.

With that, you heard a sharp rap at the door. You set your tea down on the kitchen table, curious who your visitor might be. You didn’t know anyone else in the trailer park, or in town, really. You opened the door, taking in the sight of possibly - no, definitely - the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You quickly guessed it was Frank, judging by the grease smeared on his quite large hands. His eyes, though tired, had the same bright look as Mary’s, and he had the most perfectly imperfect fluffy hair and overgrown stubble.

“Good morning,” he said with a sweet, closed-mouthed smile. “Is Mary here?”

You had to remind yourself to breathe. Stammering, you opened the door wider, gesturing inside. “Hi, y-yes. She is!” Why am I like this? “She’s just painting with Fred. Please, come in.” You moved aside so he could fit his broad shoulders through the doorframe and then held out your hand. “You must be Frank. I’m Y/N. Mary is just wonderful.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He took your hand in both of his, gentler than you’d expected. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Frank. It’s great to meet you, finally.” He smiled wide for the first time and you were certain you’d pass out. Who LOOKS like this? “And thank you, she really is wonderful. I couldn’t do it without Roberta. She’s family.” He smiled and waved at Roberta, who was looking at you over the lip of her mug.

Mary didn’t even bother to turn around and face Frank. “What are you doing here, Frank? It’s only 11. I have a whole ‘nother hour with my friends.” You tried to keep your laugh quiet, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head.

“Well, excuse me for thinking you might like to go out on the boat with me this morning. I guess I’ll go by myself.”

Mary jumped up from the floor, scrambling to clean up your paints and books. “Can Y/N and Roberta come?”

Frank crouched down to meet Mary’s eyes. “Of course they can, if they’d like.” He looked back at you over his shoulder, trying to gauge your interest, then turning back to his niece. “But do you remember what I told you?”

You could see that Mary was making a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. “You told me that my adult friends have adult lives that include adult responsibilities, and they might not always be available to spend time with me.”

“And?” he looked at her expectantly.

“And I need to invite them to do things without assuming they will do them.” She couldn’t hold back her eye roll any longer, but she made sure not to let Frank see. “Roberta, Y/N, would you both like to join us on the boat today?”

You were amazed by the exchange taking place in front of you, able to see where some of Mary’s brains and tenacity came from. The conversation between the two flowed so easily, playful yet intelligent. It was clear that Frank treated Mary not as a child, but as a person, and you chided yourself internally for thinking that was kinda hot.

Shaking yourself out of your mildly inappropriate thoughts, you responded. “I’d love to come, Mary.” You smiled at her, bending over to help her pick up the last of the paints from the floor. “Roberta?”

Roberta gave you a look and you just knew she planned this somehow. “I actually do have some of those adult responsibilities to handle today, but thank you for inviting me.” You sent a glare in her direction, quick but no less scathing. “Maybe next time.” She winked at you before washing out her mug and saying her goodbyes.

You spent the whole rest of the day and night with Frank and Mary, doing everything from building sandcastles to cooking dinner together. Mary eventually fell asleep in your lap as you were watching Oliver & Company, Frank’s favorite Disney film that had become Mary’s, too. “An underrated classic,” they told you in unison.

You helped Frank put Mary to bed, a task made easier after such a tiring day. “I guess I should get going.” You stood awkwardly in the small kitchen, unsure of yourself and painfully aware of how close your hand was to Frank’s resting on the counter.

“Yeah, I have a job early in the morning.” He looked down at his shoes, unable to look you in the eye, and you wondered if he hadn’t found your company as enjoyable as you’d found his.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’ve been to Ferg’s? The little bar down the road? I go every Friday night just to relax and have a few beers. Maybe you’d like to come with me next weekend?”

Is he asking me on a date? You could feel your heartbeat racing. The look on your face must not have matched the excitement you felt at the prospect of spending time alone with the dreamy, kind, sarcastic man in front of you.

He felt like an idiot when you hesitated to answer. He clearly read everything wrong. He had to fix this. “It’s a good place to meet people, you know? I know you’re fairly new to the area, so if you’re looking for more local friends, it’s a good place to start.” He winced, hoping you couldn’t sense his embarrassment at thinking that you would want to go on a date with him.

You swallowed, trying not to let your disappointment show outwardly. Of course he’s not interested in me. Stupid. “Oh, yeah! That would be great, Frank. What time?”

Frank let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, relieved that you didn’t seem offended by his offer. “How’s 7? I’ll pick you up? We can walk over together.”

And that’s how Fridays came to mean so much to you. Almost every Friday for the last six months, Frank met you at your door and you walked to Ferg’s together. Frank told you it would be a good place to make new friends, but you paid no mind to the other patrons. You only had eyes for each other, yet neither of you could see it, even though Roberta pointed out (repeatedly) that neither of you had taken anyone else home in all that time.

The more time you spent with Frank, the more certain you were that God was real and your life was His favorite trainwreck reality TV series. Even if you could have customized a dream man Build-A-Bear style, Frank still would blow your creation out of the water. He was smart and funny, not to mention an adoring parent to Mary, to whom you grew more attached each day. He was kind and thoughtful, talented and hard-working. Although he was a grouch, as Mary would say, he always was sweet to you. He took a genuine interest in anything you had to say, whether you were venting about work or filling him on the latest episode of whatever show you were binging. He was ridiculously sexy without even trying. All those hours he spent doing manual labor in the sun did wonders for his physique. You’d only seen him completely shirtless on one occasion, and the image of him with sweat dripping down his chest was burned into your memory, fueling your late-night thots and causing you to break out your vibrator on what was now a regular basis.

Six months had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and you’d begun to accept that Frank didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you. You decided tonight was as good a night as any to talk to someone new, to start letting go of your unrequited feelings.

You swapped out your usual jeans for a sundress, t-shirt bra for a push-up, and lip balm for lipstick. Putting your phone and some cash in a wristlet, you considered wearing your new strappy sandals. The walk to Ferg’s was about five minutes each way down a sandy road, though, and memories of the sticky floor inside aided your preferred pair of Converse in their victory for the night.

Just as you finished tying your shoes, you heard a knock at the door. You adjusted your cleavage and fluffed your hair a final time with one last look in the mirror. Here goes.

Frank felt like he had the wind knocked out of him in the best possible way. He suddenly felt entirely underdressed in his aloha shirt, even though it was his go-to for nights out of the house. He’d never seen you dressed so nicely when you weren’t going to work.

You were the kind of beautiful that didn’t require makeup. Your natural hair always framed your face perfectly, even if you didn’t think so. He thought you were adorable when you were concentrating on something, blowing your hair out of your face with a huff. Visions of your soft curves made their way into Frank’s dreams on more than one occasion. He had seen you in your swimsuit several times, sunbathing with Roberta and swimming with Mary at the beach. It wasn’t even all that revealing, but it accentuated your figure in ways that forced Frank into needing a cold shower or two. Above all, though, he admired your heart. You’d allowed Mary into your life without hesitation, spending time with her because you wanted to and allowing her to ask all those questions that Frank just wouldn’t be able to answer. It killed him that you didn’t see him the way he saw you, a perfect partner for him and a worthy maternal figure for Mary.

“Frank? You okay?” Your concerned voice shook him out of his thoughts, prompting him to close his mouth which apparently had opened wide in astonishment when you stood in the doorway.

“Yeah, um... You look…” He looked a little confused, his brow furrowed and lips pursed. “Why are you all dolled up? It’s only Ferg’s.” He wished he could’ve kicked himself in the teeth when your face fell at his question. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Let me try that again,” he nearly begged, running up to you to stop you from going back inside. “You look really nice, honey.” He ran his calloused hand up your forearm, but quickly returned it to his side when he realized what he’d done. “Is it a special occasion, though? Should I change?”

You gave him a watery smile, given that you were three seconds from slamming the door in his face and crying. “That’s better. Thank you.” You lightly pushed at his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the electricity you felt at the contact. “No occasion, though. Just thought maybe it was about time I actually introduced myself to someone new.”

You couldn’t quite read his reaction. Little did you know he was certain he just felt his heart physically crack in his chest. “What do you mean?”

The two of you started walking, the tension between you thickening the very air you breathed. “Well, when you first invited me to Ferg’s, you said maybe I’d get to know some other people in the area, right? But we’re always with each other. I’m sure you’re itching to talk to someone other than me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Frank abruptly reverted to the quiet, distant state he usually occupied before he met you. He sped up a bit, walking ahead of you and desperately attempting to school his features before you caught up with him.

Frank practically ran to the restroom, not slowing down even to hold the door open for you. You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, relaxing before entering the bar. Normally, whoever made it first would order drinks for you both, but Frank made it painfully clear that he had no desire to be in your company tonight. You ordered your usual, an Angry Orchard with a shot of Fireball in a tall glass. The combination tasted like apple cider, but the burn in your throat was caused by liquor rather than heat. It was strong enough to get you buzzed, but not so strong that you’d be stumbling home. You swallowed half the glass in one gulp, wanting to feel the warmth in your veins boosting your confidence as quickly as possible.

“Y/N? How are you?” You turned around, eyes meeting those of Jamie, your coworker. He leaned in for a hug and you accepted somewhat reluctantly, having interacted with him only in passing.

“Hey! I’m all right. What’s up?” You smiled at him, taking another sip of your drink. Jamie was not very subtly staring at your chest. You weren’t crazy about him, but the attention felt nice, so you allowed it.

“Not much. Just happy it’s Friday, ya know?” He looked around for a moment before returning his attention to you. “You’re usually here with that mechanic dude, right?”

You stifled a laugh thinking about how Frank would react if he heard himself referred to as “dude” by this prick. “Yeah, he’s around somewhere. We’re just-“

“-Just friends?” he finished for you with a hopeful look.

You nodded in response, looking him up and down. He was no Frank, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome. It had been so long since you’d even been kissed, and though you hated to admit it, you were touch-starved. One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

Meanwhile, Frank was splashing his face with cool water. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked up so royally. He was sure you didn’t want him how he wanted you, and now he was sure it was too late to tell you how he really felt.

He knew from the moment he saw you that he’d never get you out of his head. Roberta had been talking you up to Frank for weeks, but he wanted no part of it, mumbling something about there being “a reason why no one used matchmakers anymore.” He had no choice but to make your acquaintance when he was looking for Mary, and he’d never been so happy that Roberta could say she told him so.

Later that day at the beach, Mary approached him while you were dozing on a towel in the sand. She sat on his lap and reached for his face, using her pointer fingers to turn the straight line of his mouth up into a smile. “Roberta says you have a ‘charming’ smile, Frank. We think you should use it more.” He chuckled quietly, careful not to disturb you, and pulled Mary in close, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She grimaced at the feeling, dramatically wiping at her face until he let her go back to reading with Fred.

The sound of the jukebox starting up cut short his reverie. He had to get out there and explain himself. Frank dried his face and hands with a paper towel before smacking his cheeks and stretching his neck back and forth to each shoulder.

Frank exited the restroom only to find some douchebag staring at your ass as you leaned over toward the bar. He saw red when the piece of shit held out his hand behind his back while his friend slipped a twenty-dollar bill into it, seemingly winning some sort of bet.

Jamie didn’t stand a chance when Frank stormed in between the two of you. “That’s IT,” he yelled, so intense he borderline bellowed. He threw whatever cash he had in his pocket on the bar to pay for your drinks before he pulled you outside, almost getting to your door while you fought against his grip. He only stopped when you spun your body around like something out of Dancing with the Stars and jumped in front of him, forcing him to catch you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, what are y-”

“-What are YOU doing, Frank? What the fuck was that?” You put your feet back down on the ground but remained facing him, arms crossed over your chest.

He groaned in frustration, suddenly realizing he actually had no clue how to respond. “Fuck.”

You looked at him, tapping your foot in anticipation.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He rubbed at his temples in the way he did when he felt a headache coming on.

“And how was he looking at me, Frank? What does it matter to you?”

“He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat and I… FUCK!”

You both turned when your neighbor opened his window. “Can you kids keep it down out here?”

You waved bashfully at the old man. “Sorry, Mr. Parker,” you said in unison.

“Come inside, Frankie.” The nickname that typically made him roll his eyes at you never had sounded sweeter, now that its use confirmed you didn’t hate him for the scene he made. You both toed off your shoes at the door before you made your way into the living room, motioning for him to sit next to you on the couch when he tried to sit in the armchair across the room.

You leaned forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Now what’s going on in that sun-damaged brain of yours?”

He let out a laugh so soft you almost missed it, but you were glad you didn’t. Sitting back against the arm of the couch, you pulled a pillow into your lap and hugged it, giving Frank your full attention.

Frank cleared his throat, doing his best to accept that it was now or never. “That guy was leering at you, and it pissed me off. You deserve better, Y/N.” He pried your fingers from where they were locked around the pillow to hold your hands in his.

“If you want to meet new people, that’s great. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s a little less great, but I’d understand. He didn’t even pay for your drinks. And I th-”

You covered his mouth with one of your hands, and he knitted his brows in confusion. “You’re making it sound like it’s an option to be with you.” You were in disbelief, side-eyeing him, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to announce that you were, in fact, being Punk’d.

The corners of his mouth lifted into the soft smile he reserved for you. It was the same one he gave you whether you were on a tangent about how “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey is “the single greatest diss track of all time” or you were helping Mary put a harness and leash on Fred “just to see how he’d do” on a walk.

“For a distinguished professor, you’re kind of a dummy, Frank.” You took his face in your hands, thrilled to be feeling his stubble against your palms. Before he could talk back to you, you kissed him, unsure how you denied yourselves such a simple yet extraordinary pleasure for so long. It only took a moment for him to relax into it, his hands removing the pillow between you before finding your waist and pulling you almost into his lap.

You deepened the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. He pulled away first, pressing his forehead to yours. “Seems like we’re both dummies, huh?”

You were going to ask why pulled away until you looked down to see a considerable tent forming in the front of his jeans. You laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around you while the other hand held your face against his neck.

You kissed the side of his neck softly before leaning back to look at him. “All this time? I thought you didn’t see me this way.” You held his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You asked me to go to Ferg’s and then said I could meet other people, so I thought that was it, you know?”

He covered your hands with his and pecked your lips softly. “Honey, I thought it was the other way around. I was trying to ask you out and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” You giggled, spluttering a bit because tears had started falling at some point. He wiped your tears away before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down a bit. “We’re fools, aren’t we?”

You nodded slowly and Frank saw something wicked flash in your eyes before you took his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. “Jesus, honey.” His length hardened underneath you and you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties, prompting you to grind down into his lap.

You released his thumb from your mouth, pressing your chest into his before kissing him again. “I think we’re only fools if we don’t take advantage of the rest of your adult time.” You removed your dress easily, returning your hands to Frank’s shoulders to push off his shirt.

He surged forward to kiss you again, working magic with his tongue against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he picked you up, walking you into the bedroom. Placing you on the bed carefully, he removed your bra and panties before pulling off his boxers and jeans in one go. You thought you wanted him before, but now that you could see everything he’d been hiding under his baggy clothes, you didn’t see how you could ever let him leave your bedroom.

The next few minutes were spent exploring each other’s mouths while Frank stretched you with his fingers. You didn’t think you’d ever been so wet in your life and thought you might pass out if you didn’t feel him inside you immediately. You gave his cock a few strokes before sliding his head through your folds, coating him in your slick.

“Waitwaitwait, honey. Do you have a condom?”

“You don’t need one if you don’t want one. It’s okay.”

He looked like you just gave him tomorrow’s winning lotto numbers, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he looked at you again. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I wanna feel you. Make me yours?”

“Anything you want, honey, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okay?” He lined himself up, seconds shy of entering you for the first time.

“I figured if you were gonna be possessive of me tonight, you might as well take it the whole nine, Frankie.” You laughed as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m clean, I’m on the pill, and I’ve wanted you for a long time.” You reached up to scratch lightly through his chest hair.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now is you moaning for me.” He drove into you harshly, but waited a moment for you to adjust once he was seated to the hilt. “So damn wet and tight for me, honey. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” He kissed you again before he began to move, slowly but surely making you lose your mind.

He dipped his head down to take one nipple in his mouth, then the other, effectively shutting you up and emptying all thoughts from your head. He nipped at the swell of your breast, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Fuck, Frank, please!”

“Please what, honey?” He picked up his pace, fucking into you so vigorously you moved up the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

“Make me cum, Frank. Please, baby, I need it. Need you,” you cried, leaning up to bite into his shoulder, stifling your moans.

“I wanna hear you, Y/N. I wanna hear those pretty moans while I’m making this perfect pussy cum for me.” The combination of his filthy words and the sight of him sucking on his own fingers before rubbing at your clit sent you over the edge, making you scream his name over and over again for what felt like forever and not long enough.

You could tell he was close, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. He began to pull out, unsure if you were willing to let him finish inside you, but knowing he was too close to wait for an answer.

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him close, pushing him back into you. “Fill me up, Frank. I wanna feel all of you. Please give it to me,” you whimpered. His release triggered another for you, chanting each other’s names surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

He stayed inside you as you both came down from your shared high, gingerly flipping you over so he laid on his back with you on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, fingers fluttering up and down your sides.

“What’s on your mind now, Frankie?” You looked up at him through your lashes, mildly terrified of the answer.

He looked down at you with the most adoration you’d ever seen, lifting your chin so your eyes met his in the moonlight. “That wasn’t too soon, was it? You mean so much to me and to Mary. I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t ever wanna hurt you. You’re the best thing in my life besides Mary, you know that?”

You kissed his chest before looking back up at him, smiling. “First of all, I would argue that wasn’t soon enough.” He hissed as you clenched around his still softening cock inside you.

“You’re evil.”

Winking at him, you continued tracing patterns on his chest with your fingers. “Second, that all kinda sounds like you might be in love with me, Frank Adler.”

His hands stopped moving for a second before he responded. “Would you run away if I said I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t run away. This is my house.” You thought your heart might explode in your chest.

“I didn’t even say it, but I take it back,” he huffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“What if I told you I felt the same way?”

He grinned, sitting up to kiss you feverishly on your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You could feel him starting to harden again inside you, leading to round two of… well, you lost count.

You ate breakfast and showered together in time for Frank to return home before Mary did, agreeing to talk more later and to hold out on Roberta for a while.

Frank stood on your doorstep, leaning in to kiss you once more. All of a sudden, you heard a familiar meow and thanked God you were dressed and not in your robe.

“Frank, what are you doing here? I thought I’d come see Y/N since I’m not supposed to come home until noon.”

You bit your tongue to keep from cackling. Frank ran a hand over his face, his blissful bubble burst. He was getting you a hotel room next weekend.

#shamelesshoesforchris2021 #maggie's writing #frank adler #frank adler x fem!reader #frank adler fluff #frank adler smut

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mortallyclearwonderland · 2 years

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Kung Fu Panda Legends of Awesomeness - "Serpent's Tooth"

Episode 60 overall

Synopsis:

A once hero renegade cobra with the powers of the Dragon gods: (Super Strength, Super Speed, Super Intelligence, Stamina, Durability, and a poison that brings out the greatest fears in the minds of its victims) named Fu-Xi loose in the valley causes the villagers to display a negative attitude towards snakes, causing Viper to consider joining him, although she later tricks him into revealing where his fear toxin is kept and almost defeats him. Viper and Po must stop Fu-Xi from transferring his toxic fear venom into the Valley of Peace's new water dam.

Characters:

Over two seasons but we finally have a Viper episode. It's nice to see some more about the snakes. What about other animals that do bad things? We've seen far more terrible behavior from water buffaloes, crocodiles, wolves, and snow leopards in the show and movies. Why is no one hostile against them?

So apparently Po was scared of Viper before he met her. What !?! He admired her just as much as every other master! He was her fan and spontaneously scared of her at the same time?

Did we really need that? Couldn't the whole village being afraid just be enough of a reason?

What about every other species which are designated villains like wolves, water buffaloes, crocodiles, and snow leopards?

In the original movie, Po points out how he doesn't have venom like Viper. But in ''Secrets of the Furious Five'' Po tells a story of how she was born without fangs and venom. However, later in the episode, he talks about how she has fangs, we can see them in animation and she bites Po and her venom works!!! Sike, she didn't actually bite him! It was only a paralyzing blow. But does that mean that Viper was just a late bloomer, her fangs grow out eventually and she just chooses not to bite?

Viper and Fu-Xi's relationship makes this episode. Even when she lies, Viper still sees old Lord Fu-Xi as a hero and wants him to be good. Fu-Xi sees Viper as a little sister, maybe more going by some of their interactions. Also, when he teaches her how to be scary, it was so cute. What I would give to see more of them!

One of the best episodes in the series! A must watch, especially if you’re a fun of Viper.

Villain: Fu-Xi is a great villain! My favorite from the entire show so far. He's got Lord Shen vibes. A sympathetic backstory doesn't take away from how evil he is and doesn't excuse his actions. But you can see where he's coming from. Everybody was treating him like a scary monster, so he decided to embrace this and use it against his enemies. When he finds out that Viper tricked him he sounds and looks genuinely hurt.

Maybe it's because of the translation, the voice actor, or both but Fu-Xi sounds like a jealous boyfriend.

‘’How could you choose two-legged and abandon me? And what do you see in the Panda?’’

Throughout the episode, he keeps calling Viper, a sister. When he thinks she bit Po he has a little slip of the tongue and calls her, a girl. Forgetting for a bit about proper manners and seeing Viper in a new light. It might be just my shipper goggles but for me, it looked like Fu-Xi started developing feelings for Viper.

He's one of the very few villains so far that didn't get put away in jail. I wonder what happened to him next. Viper hopes he can become good again.

But unfortunately it's his first and last appearance.

Fanfic writers, you know what to do. If you want to. I have no control over anybody. When I finish episode reviews, I might write one myself.

#Kung Fu Panda Legends of Awesomeness #Kung Fu Panda #kfp #Po #Fu-Xi #Master Shifu #Shifu #Master Tigress #Tigress #Master Viper #Viper #Master Crane #Crane #Master Monkey #Monkey #Master Mantis #Mantis #Serpent's Tooth #Kung Fu Panda Legends of Awesomeness - Serpent's Tooth

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arianaagreyy · 3 years

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I Love You || James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Words: 2096 words

Warning: Fluff, Insecurity, Emotional talk, Panic attack

___________________________________________________________

Y/N was the talk of Hogwarts. Intelligent, Sarcastic, Funny, Athletic but most of all, beautiful inside and out. The kindest soul to walk the grounds of Hogwarts. Kind to the Slytherins that bullied her, kind to the children who adored her.

It was no secret that James Potter was absolutely head over heels in love with his amazing girlfriend. Both of them were the ideal couple. Quidditch players, smart students, attractive looks. Girls envied Y/N whereas boys envied James and he liked showing you off as well.

But despite being loved by boys and girls alike, Y/N always had trouble fitting in. The day she transferred from Durmstrang to Hogwarts, she was terrified of how she'll fit in. She was on the verge of a panic attack when a red-head girl had so kindly offered her a hand to show around the castle, thus starting the friendship between Lily Evans and Y/N Y/L/N.

Now, with her friends, Y/N, Lily, Marlene and Dorcas entered the Potions classroom, tired because of laughing so hard from all the way from the Gryffindor dormitory to the Dungeons.

"Welcome ladies. So very kind of you to grace us with your presence", Professor Slughorn's voice seized their noise of laughter. Slughorn had a very sour expression on his face whereas two rows away, James Potter was looking at his girlfriend in awe.

The way her deep blue eyes were glistening in the light and shiny from laughing so hard, the way her lips formed the most beautiful smile James had ever seen in his life, the way her Y/H/C hair framed her perfectly carved face. He was so in love with her.

His thoughts were interrupted by a paper plane hitting the back of his head and falling on the table. He lifted the paper to open it.

Whipped. -Signed Moony, Padfoot and Wormtail.

He turned back to see the three boys trying to muffle the sound of their laughter by putting their hands on their mouths. James rolled his eyes and mouthed "Fuck off".

"We're sorry Professor. It won't happen again", her beautiful voice spoke. James looked around the class to see the boys looking at her with such admiration, It made him want to hex them all into the next century. Only he could see his Y/N with those eyes.

At the same time, James looked back at her just to see she was looking back at him with a smile so warm, it almost melted him.

"It shouldn't happen again. Now get inside. We already lost a lot of time", Slughorn rushed the girls into the class. All of them took their places next to their respective partners, Y/N being paired with Lucius Malfoy whereas James was stuck with Snape who, once in a while looked at him, rolled his eyes and went back to doing what he previously was.

James glanced over Y/N's direction to see Lucius Malfoy laughing silently on something Y/N said, a smile on her face as well. She was too good to people, even if they were undeserving of her kindness.

As time went by, James started getting more aware of the laughing noises coming from where his girlfriend was sitting. There were many thoughts running through his mind.

What if she thinks I'm not good enough.

What if she's not happy with me.

They both look so happy.

She has the ability to see the goodness in even the darkest of souls.

What if I'm not enough for her.

Consumed by his thoughts, he was at the verge of a panic attack when Professor Slughorn announced that the class was dismissed. James quickly picked up his books in one hand, slung his bag over his shoulder and bolted out of the classroom, not even sparing a glance towards Y/N, who was looking at James with concerned eyes.

Y/N sensed something was wrong so she very politely excused herself from Lucius, packed her stuff and ran off to the direction James did.

They had been together for nearly a year now but neither of them had told the other that they were completely and utterly in love with them. Y/N decided to tell him today. Now.

She had been building up her confidence to say this to him for a while now and that's what she was discussing with the girls earlier in the day until Marlene had changed the topic into something too hilarious.

She climbed the stairs that led to the Gryffindor Common Room, hoping she would find James there. She entered the Common Room to hear the sound of heavy breathing alongside muffled sobs coming from the boys' dormitory.

A lump formed in her throat as she slowly made her way towards the source of the sound. She opened the Marauders' room to find James sitting in a corner of the room with his knees scrunched up to his stomach, elbows on his knees and hands in his hair. He was shaking violently from the pressure of his sobs.

Y/N stood there trying to absorb the situation. Her strong, smart, funny boyfriend was sitting in a secluded corner of a room crying because of God knows what.

She slowly took steps towards him and fell on her knees in front of him. He somehow felt her presence as he stopped shaking and tried wiping away his tears but Y/N stopped his hand from reaching his face.

"You should be in class Y/N", he said, his voice raspy from crying so badly. Y/N's heart broke at the sight in front of her. He didn't lift up his head as he talked to her.

"And you should be dropping me to class", she spoke in a calming voice, trying to soothe him. Whenever she talked in this manner, James' nerves always calmed down but somehow this time, they only grew. His breathing started getting heavy again but he refused to look in her direction.

He knew he was over-thinking. He also talked to girls but Y/N never reacted in this way whereas when Y/N talked to any guy, he would start feeling this indescribable feeling to break that guy's face.

Y/N detected his heavy breathing and placed her hand on his bicep. James felt her soothing touch and his breathing returned to normal. Y/N then placed her hand on his already messy hair and started massaging his head, something she knew James liked.

He looked up to see her eyes full of concern and tears at the brims of them. As soon as Y/N looked into his eyes, a tear escaped her eye. His hazel eyes didn't have that mischievous glint in them; they had a broken look in them, like he lost something very dear to him.

James' hand was quick to wipe away the tear that left Y/N's eye. She looked so concerned for him. Just for him.

"James what's wrong?" she asked, her voice so calm, so enchanting.

"Is everything ok? Are Mia and Monty ok? Did something happened to Sirius? Are you hurt?" she bombarded him with concerning questions.

He shook his head as an indication that nothing of that sort happened. Her eyebrows furrowed as she spoke in a low voice:

"Did I do something wrong? I messed up. Didn't I?"

James quickly stood up on his feet, ears ringing from anger. How could she think that she did something to sadden him. She's perfect in every way. A perfect friend, a perfect girlfriend, a perfect daughter.

Y/N also stood up quickly, her hand falling from James' head.

"HOW COULD YOU THINK THAT?" he practically screamed at her.

"HOW COULD YOU THINK THAT YOU DID SOMETHING THAT COULD EVER SADDEN ME?"

By now he had lost all his senses. Nothing mattered more to him that his Y/N. His.

"You're the reason I smile everyday. You are the reason I wake up everyday. Just to look at you. You bring joy in my life, happiness that I never knew existed. Everything you do is so bloody perfect. You are so perfect", he spoke in a hushed voice but loud enough for Y/N to hear.

"And I can't even begin to thank you for all that you've done to me, for me. But me? What did I do to you besides showing you public affection? I never talked to you in class. I didn't buy gifts for you. I didn't stand up for you in class. I don't deserve you", he spoke, his eyes no longer connected to Y/N's.

She looked at the boy standing in front of him. That confident, arrogant toe-rag who looked so vulnerable right now.

"I see how the other boys look at you. With such admiration in their eyes. Whenever I find them staring at you, it just makes me feel as if I'm not good enough for you. I'll never be able to-"

He was cut off by Y/N throwing a pillow at his face. He finally looked up to see her face stained with tears, similar as his. Her eyes weren't glistening with happiness, they were glistening with sadness. Sadness that he could think he's not good enough for her.

"WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT?" It was her turn to scream now.

"WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT YOU ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME", she shouted, tears falling from her eyes.

James was staring at Y/N with wide eyes. She was such a calm-spoken person and hearing her shout was new. But some part of him calmed down hearing her defend him.

"James, none of those boys were there for me when I needed help, none of them comforted me after my nightmares, none of them helped me catch up to my studies, none of them defended me from bullies. It was you. It was you all along", she said in a calm voice yet tears were still silently flowing from her eyes.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me James Potter. I don't care how those boys look at me. I care about how YOU look at me. You make me strong Potter. You make me happy", she said with a smile. I teary smile made its way to James' face as well.

"And I have absolutely no idea why you're so insecure about yourself because-", she stopped and took a deep breath.

"Because I love you James Potter. And even if I have to remind you that, I'll do it every single day, I will. Because I'll go any lengths just to be with you", she ended with a sniff.

James stood frozen, staring at her. Looking into her eyes.

Love.

He saw love in her eyes. Love for him. Not Lucius, not anybody. Him.

Before he knew it, he was taking fast steps towards her and slammed his lips to hers. This felt right. It felt as though they were home. In each other's arms. A comfortable warmth spread through their bodies as they held each other close with an intention of never letting go. Y/N was his drug and he gladly surrendered to her.

They broke apart with a smile etched on both of their faces.

"I love you Y/N. I love you more than myself", he said, sincerity in his voice.

"I know. I'm just too irresistible", she said, flipping her hair off her shoulder and looking at James with a smile that he wished he he could see everyday.

James pulled her into a comfortable embrace. Her hands rested on his neck and his on her waist, pulling her close. He dug his face into the crook of her neck.

"I'm never letting you go Mrs. Potter", his voice came out muffled. She let out a small chuckle which made blood rise to James' cheeks.

Suddenly, she pulled apart and looked at him with a glint in her eyes that meant trouble.

"Did you get jealous because I was talking to Lucius earlier?", she asked with a raised eyebrow. James didn't reply, just looked down, his face getting redder. she let out a laugh.

"Oh my god. I absolutely have to tell Pads and Moony you got jealous of Lucius", she shouted as she darted towards the exit, looking at James one more time before winking at him and left.

Too surprised to do anything, he let out a laugh of his own. A laugh of happiness, a laugh of love.

#james potter x you #james potter x reader #marauders #harry potter #hogwarts #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #gryffindor #lucius malfoy x you #angst with a happy ending #hp text post #marauders x you #sirius orion black #marauders x y/n #lily evans #atyd marlene #x y/n

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queenshelby · 3 years

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My Friend’s Father (Part Nine)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Smut, Domestic Violence, Angst

Words: 3,064

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Almost a week had passed since you stayed with Cillian at his unit in Galway and, despite the fact that he was away, things had further developed between you as emotions grew with every day.

He was different to any man you had ever been involved with and, whilst your involvement with each other stemmed from purely sexual lust and hunger, you had evolved from this to something different entirely within a matter of days.

Of course, you knew each other for years and, whilst you had a crush on Cillian for as long as you could remember, you never thought that it would be like this and, for Cillian, this feeling had never been mutual.

Whilst he always considered you to be attractive and very intelligent and kind, he never felt any emotional connection or sexual attraction towards you, at least not until that weekend when you visited Denise, which was also the first time he saw you again after six months had passed.

On that night during which you slept with each other, he let his sexual hunger take over his reasonable thinking mind after he saw you, in his kitchen, making pancakes and you had since, quite openly, talked about it. He saw sleeping with you as a mistake but, ever since that night, he couldn’t get you out of his head.

For you, things weren’t just sexual anymore and you began to feel strongly for Cillian which worried you especially since he was open about the fact that he didn’t know where things were heading with you. The fact that you are his daughter’s friend and much younger than him clearly bothered him and he sometimes admitted to you that he felt strange about building such a strong connection with you. A relationship was not what he wanted but he liked you, a lot.

As such, during the past week, Cillian called you every day after he finished filming and you were talking to him more frequently than you were talking to Denise.

During his breaks, he would also text you and check in on you as you were in the middle of exams. He always remembered when you had a test and asked you how it went and, when you told him that you didn’t feel confident with your results, he reassured you that you probably did well and, even if you didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. According to him, a pass is a pass and you needed to lower your expectations of yourself just a little.

To your surprise, he also remembered appointments you had scheduled and things that bothered you which meant that, unlike other men you had been with, he was actually listening and was interested in what you had to say.

Some nights, you had spent hours on the phone or Skype, joking about things you had encountered that day or talking about books, literature and music, which is something you both enjoyed.

Politics and social issues were other matters you could discuss endlessly and, even when you were of different opinions, you would be able to argue in the most satisfying way. Cillian always treated you as an equal and even opened up to you about his divorce from Denise’s mother recently.

Another thing you learned from Cillian was that Denise was brining along her friend Amalie to Manchester to stay at his apartment and, when you gave him a warning about her and her intentions, he reminded you that he only had eyes for you. In fact, he always showered you with compliments and all of his compliments were genuine and came natural to him, helping you immensely with your self-consciousness.

Unfortunately, whilst you enjoyed how engaging Cillian was with you every day, like a teenager in love, with the constant text messages and calls, your father soon got suspicious and confronted you about.

****

“Dad, I am almost 22, you don’t need to be spying on me” you said somewhat frustrated as he asked you who you were talking to every day.

“You live under my roof and you answer me young lady” he said harshly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes just as your mother stepped in, trying to calm him down. Your father was much older, approaching sixty and fairly old school in the way he expected you and your sister to behave.

“A friend…I am talking to a friend” you explained and your father asked again, telling you not to lie to him because he would know.

“And this friend of yours, you can’t meet him…you just text and talk? You can’t bring him to our house and introduce him?” your father asked along with a million other questions.

“No, I can’t. he lives in Dublin and I, most certainly, wouldn’t bring him into this…” you said somewhat irritated by the interrogation.

“Dublin, huh? So, you met him when you visited Denise?” he asked and you nodded.

“It’s not her brother, is it? Because I really don’t want you to get involved with him. I don’t like this family and their views” your father said harshly, causing you to chuckle.

“Their views?” you asked somewhat surprised and your father nodded.

“Yes, their views on what’s right and wrong. If I recall correctly, this girl you call your friend was going out with someone of the same gender for a while. God didn’t tell us to do this but her parents obviously didn’t have an issue with it which, apparently is called new age parenting. Everything is pro choice and lets their children decide what is best for them even if they lack experience” your father went on to say and you couldn’t help but shake your head at his absurd commentary but, he continued and you soon learned what had happened between your parents and Denise’s parents many years ago, before which your mother had called Denise’s mother her friend as well.

According to your father, Cillian had voiced his opinion to your father when it was found out that your sister was pregnant following a short affair with a man she had met through university.

Cillian’s ex wife had told your sister that she had options, causing your father to get rather angry with her, which is when Cillian stepped in, supporting what Denise’s mother had said.

She had offered your sister help but your father considered this to be a betrayal and, whilst your mother maintained contact with Denise’s mother for a while, your father refused to get involved with Denise’s family thereafter.

Cillian’s often all so public views angered him and he made this very clear. He didn’t want you to be involved with his children and you couldn’t help but laugh about the irony of it all when you found out about this incident.

“Jesus Dad, that was years ago and not everyone has to have the same views as you” you said before confirming that you weren’t seeing Denise’s brother.

“No, they don’t, but I am just looking out for you and, instead of acting the way you do, throwing yourself at guys with new age ideas, I would much prefer if you met a nice young catholic man” your father explained, causing your mother to fume in anger with him.

“Throwing myself at guys? Listen, I am not sure what slut you think I am but it’s nice to know that you think so little of me” you said before storming upstairs and into your room.

Having to deal with this crap bothered you and you knew that, when this semester came to an end, you could be moving out now that you saved enough money for a bond and rent.

*****

As the evening went on, you spent all of your time in your room, reading a book until, finally, at around 9 o’clock you saw a notification on Skype.

‘Hey Beautiful’ Cillian said as you picked up and popped in your headphones.

Cillian apologised for calling through so late and informed you that he was finally able to speak to Laura, the woman he was seeing before you.

He knew that you wanted to know about it and he had no problem telling you what you needed to hear while telling you that you had absolutely nothing to worry about.

It was Laura’s first day back on set after a week-long break and Cillian told you that she wasn’t exactly impressed when he stood her down.

‘She probably likes you…I can understand that’ you said calmly but Cillian told you that he was pretty clear with her about what this was between them.

‘Well, in retrospect, I shouldn’t have gotten involved with her’ he went on and you were quite happy to change the topic by this point and told him that you were aching for him.

‘Well, I am not sure that I can help you with that’ Cillian chuckled.

‘We could have Skype sex I suppose’ you giggled.

‘Skype Sex?’ Cillian laughed before telling you that he didn’t think that this would be a good idea since you were at home with your parents and you had previously complained about the thin walls of the house.

‘Oh Jesus Cillian, my father already thinks I am a slut, so I personally don’t care if anyone hears me getting myself off. I’ve got my earphones in and am the only one who can hear you and my door is locked’ you chuckled.

‘Your father thinks that you are a slut? Do you want to talk about that?’ Cillian asked concerned but you shook your head.

‘I rather not. You met him and know what he is like’ you explained.

‘I do. He takes God very seriously’ Cillian said before continuing on. ‘But, if you have problems at home you need to tell me please. You can stay at my apartment. I can get my house keeper to meet you there with the key’ he offered.

‘You said you were going to stay out of stuff between me and my parents just as I would stay out of matters between you and Denise’ you then said, reminding him on the conversation about your respective roles which you had three days ago.

‘Yes I did, but I can’t if I have to worry about you’ Cillian said firmly.

‘There is no need to worry Cillian. I promise’ you reassured him. ‘Well, actually, I need you to worry about my sexual needs right now’ you then went on to say with sly grin.

‘Through Skype?’ Cillian asked again somewhat concerned.

‘Yes’ you said with a cheeky smile as you settled more into your bed with your laptop.

‘Alright then, show me what you are wearing” Cillian said as he cut straight to the point.

‘Can you see?’ you asked as you adjusted the cam and showed Cillian your dark blue lingerie.

‘Very nice…but…I think you would look even better if you were naked, don’t you think?’ Cillian said somewhat nervously and you nodded in agreement.

‘Well, I suppose I should strip for you and you should strip for me’ you giggled as you seductively took off your bra slowly, showing Cillian your perky breasts through the camera.

You heard him inhale sharply as he watched you and took his t-shirt off at the same time, leaving him in nothing but his CK briefs.

Without words you then scooted back on the bed and removed your undies, allowing him to watch before you sat down on the bed, spread eagle and naked, giving him a good view of your mound.

‘Jesus Y/N, you are so fucking beautiful and sexy…touch yourself for me, nice and slow’ Cillian breathed out and you let his soothing voice wash over you, knowing what he was trying to do and happily helping him succeed.

‘Like this?’ you moaned as you began to run circles over your clit with your fingers.

‘Yes, just like that babe’ Cillian groaned as he shuffled down his briefs and you were finally getting a good look of his hard cock.

‘Oh god, I want to stroke your cock so badly’ you moaned as you seductively opened your pussy lips with your fingers, opening yourself up before reaching for the black vibrator you kept in your bedside table.

‘Well, someone's particularly horny tonight’ Cillian chuckled as he watched you play with your pussy, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You mumbled a small "mhm," and he laughed.

‘Good, that's exactly how I like you, so naughty and needy’ Cillian said as he slowly began to stroke his hard member.

You barely registered his words enough to answer with another "mhm," but your subconscious managed it. Your weak answer elicited another delicious chuckle from the other end of the line.

"Why don't you show me how this little toy of yours works?” Cillian then asked as he watched you eagerly.

“I was just waiting for you to ask” you giggled as you began to run your fingers along your stomach and back up to your chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps their wake before reaching for the vibrator and turning it on.

“Put into your sweet pussy babe, let me see it” Cillian groaned and you moan in response, barely processing his words but still understanding enough to answer and do what he asked.

"I bet your pussy is already dripping” he said as you slid the vibrator into you slowly. He was right, you could feel your wetness pooling.

“I am so fucking wet and I wish it would be your cock inside me” you moaned as you began to stroke the toy in and out of you.

Cillian was groaning on the other side, his eyes full of lust and desire for you and you let out a quiet moan as you watched him with the same desire and hunger while you were pleasuring yourself.

“Good girl, keep going…” Cillian tells you and you moan again hearing it.

“Tell me how much you are aching for my cock” he then said you moaned again.

“I want your cock so badly, fuck…I want your cum inside me, dripping out of my wet little pussy” you moaned, eliciting a groan from Cillian as he began to stroke his cock harder and faster.

“Such a naughty needy girl, aren’t you? I can’t wait to be inside you again and make you cum over and over again” Cillian said with a laboured breath and you are barely listening at this point.

“I want you to cum for me and show me this dripping pussy when you do…I fucking love hearing your moans, so fucking sexy…common babe….let go” Cillian said, knowing that you were close and your orgasm rolled over you as soon as the word 'cum' left his lips, and although your sensitive clit was screaming at your hand to stop, you couldn't.

‘Oh god fuck, yes…’ you moaned as you came hard and fast.

“That’s it babe, don’t stop” he instructed as your moans continuously spilled from your mouth, and you were not even sure what you were saying or if you were forming words at all. The only thing in your head is a deliciously heavy fog and Cillian’s voice guiding you to do what he wanted.

“Don’t stop, keep fucking your sweet little pussy babe” Cillian ordered as he knew you weren’t done and, just as he did, you let out a high-pitched moan, bordering on a scream, as an even stronger orgasm washed over your body.

‘Cum for me babe…I want to see all this cum’ you moaned in return, focusing on the delicious image in front of you as Cillian was stroking his cock and, just when you finally come back down you heard Cillian groan loudly.

“Fuck” he groaned as he stroked his cock hard and fast you watched rope after rope of cum spurt onto his stomach.

‘Oh god, what a waste, I want to lick your cum off your skin so badly” you breathed out as Cillian came down from his high slowly and used a tissue to clean himself up.

‘Stop saying those things or you have to stay on the line for another twenty minutes at least’ Cillian chuckled as he could feel his manhood stir again.

‘Well, I think you shouldn’t cum again until you come to visit me in Galway the weekend after next…I want you to save it all for me’ you said, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow as he pulled his briefs back up.

‘Fat chance babe’ he chuckled, knowing that going without an orgasm for nine days would be rather difficult for him.

Eventually, after a lot of begging, he agreed to try but he wouldn’t be able to make you any promises to this effect.

***

The following day, you went to work and then university thereafter but, when you eventually returned home, your father was in a worse mood than ever before.

‘Can you explain this to me?’ he asked angrily as soon as you walked through the door and you couldn’t help but gulp when he pointed to a white box which he had placed on the living room table.

‘You went through my personal belongings’ you huffed out as the box contained some lingerie and intimate items, including toys, that you were hiding in the bottom of your dresser.

‘Again Y/N, this is my house, my rules and I don’t want my daughter to own filth like this’ he said, after having heard small pieces of your conversation with Cillian on Skype the evening before.

It was obvious to you that your father was appalled and you were outraged that he had been snooping through your room and, as you would later learn, had even tried to access your computer.

‘I can’t fucking believe you dad. These are my personal belongings and you have no right to go through them’ you huffed out and, just as you did, you could feel a sharp strike across your face.

‘Get this shit out of my house and talk to me with some respect’ he said harshly, leaving you speechless and in tears as he walked away, leaving your cheek burning red.

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you

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yuzukult · 3 years

Text

acquitted love || sjn & reader

title: acquitted love pairing: johnny suh x reader genre: fluff, angst, co-workers!au, lawyer!au, one-sided enemies to lovers word count: 8.7k warnings: some language/cursing, brief mentions of sex but there's no actual discussions or explicit conversations of the topic, but generally pg-13 prompt: you absolutely hate johnny suh. but when your boss pairs you two up together for one of the highest profile cases, you’re left working close with your enemy but he doesn’t seem to think that way of you. a/n: tada!! i wrote this for the @/ficscafe fic exchange event!! so @urlocalnctstan , hope you enjoy this !! i tried to write it according to what you put as your preferences, but honestly T_T it was so hard bc i was just not getting any ideas!! hopefully this is something you’d like :D enjoy !!

“God, isn’t he just… so attractive?”

Along with a click on your tongue, you feign a hit in Hyeri’s direction, whose reflexes have gotten so much faster in the past couple years of knowing you and it shows when she cowers underneath your arm. She gifts you that not-so-apologetic smile, full of mischievousness because she knows no matter how annoying she can be, you’ll still love her nonetheless.

“Why do you keep talking about Johnny? You know he’s banned as a topic of our conversations.”

Hyeri rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her white frilled blouse. You know that she doesn’t actually inhabit any romantic feelings for Johnny, but she has a problem of thinking without the usage of her brain when she sees a hot guy.

Not that you think Johnny is hot.

No.

“Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t think he’s at least an ounce of smokin’ hot.” She’s unraveled her arms by now, poking your shoulder incessantly to grasp onto your attention as you're tapping on the buttons of the copier machine. “I bet if you asked him out, he’d say yes.”

You briefly glare at Hyeri. “You realize that he and I don’t get along, right? He keeps finding stupid loopholes in the system to win his cases. He thinks with his heart, not his head, and sometimes, with whatever that thing was in his pants.” And, not to mention that he walks out the court with that big grin stretched from cheek to cheek, giving the ‘good news’ to your well-respected boss (who you desperately seek the approval of but that’s a different story for another time). And every single time, she gives him that nod of appreciation, that ‘nod of approval’ if you will, when it should be given to you and not to some asshole who fucks his way to victory.

“But he’s so hot—”

You narrow your eyes at your friend, and with a stern voice, you call out, “Hyeri.”

She shrugs. “Honestly, though, he’s hella smart. He’s got a job here, and works under your boss. It’s Park, Kim & Associates—notice how Park is first, because she’s a fucking genius. She only picks the intelligent ones to work under her. Why do you think I’m still working for Mr. Kim?”

Park Seohyun and Kim Gonghyun—one of the biggest lawyers in the region, decided to join together to build their own law firm from the ground up. They were both highly respected in their field; Kim Gonghyun spent years of his life being mentored by one of the most famous judges, and as for Park Seohyun, she was, simply put, admirable because of the obstacles she has overcome to make her dreams of working in law to be real. Being a woman, young, and beautiful, she’s had her fair share of encounters with people who disregard her potential, that is until she met Gonghyun—who, admittingly is an old man who seems like he’d be traditional, sexist, even, but he proves to also make people realize how wrong they are with their impression of him.

But, as Mr. Kim is getting older, he’s gotten a bit… lazy.

In fact, he’s been slacking so much that he’s gotten a new rep in the office—if he was your direct supervisor, or your supervisor was under him, you were on the side of the office where all the easier, uncomplicated cases were assigned. Which meant that there was a slight possibility that your talents and skills weren’t as sharp and exceptional as you thought they were.

And well, Hyeri works directly underneath Mr. Kim.

Hyeri doesn’t want a heavy workload, despite the fact that there’s a plethora of files on her desk, stacked up one onto another as tall as her PC tower, and they were all open and closed cases—needless to say that she didn’t mind it.

“Okay, but you got offered a position under Seohyun. Do you really think you’re not wasting your potential?”

Hyeri scoffs. “Never. At least, not now. I’m still in my twenties, I’d like to enjoy my youth while I can, for your information.”

You quirk a brow. “And does any of that pertain fucking Johnny? The hot guy, so you claim?”

She immediately has her hand covering your mouth and you scowl. “Shhhhh, he works here!”

You bite the flesh of her hand and Hyeri instantly retracts. “You think I don’t know my archenemy works here? He sits directly across from my office—I get the best view of the guy and I’m not even one of his fangirls.”

“You’re not gonna be one of those girls who claim they’re different because they don’t like him but then end up falling for him anyway… are you?”

Your hand goes up and Hyeri crouches down.

“Stop it.”

“Seriously though! It’s the classic e2l love story,” she has her hands gesturing in front of her like she’s making an imaginary rainbow, “Two lawyers, constantly butting heads, accept each other’s differences and learn to love—“

“The fuck is an ‘e2l’?”

“Enemies to lovers.”

“Are you high? Stop spitting nonsense.” This time, you’re waving the stack of papers that finish printing in front of her face. “Meet me for lunch later. But if you keep talking about my archenemy and I falling in love, you can kiss a free meal goodbye.”

Hyeri gasps.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Maybe. Just maybe, Hyeri might be a tiny smidge right when she says Johnny is handsome. Just a bit though, because she can’t get credit for something like that.

He’s dyed his hair this shade of brunette that sort of reminds you of roasted chestnuts on a cold, winter day, sitting inside of a cooker outside of your childhood home, baking along with some sweet potatoes your mom had gotten from a farmer’s market nearby. Johnny has this focused gaze attached to the screen of his monitor; there’s a dip in the fronts of his brows, lips tightened into a straight line, and constant switching back and forth from the computer while taking notes down in a book that’s laid open in front of him.

You wonder what’s running through his mind, or well, you’re more interested in what files he has sprawled out on top of his desk.

Truthfully, if it hadn’t been obvious enough, you weren’t quite a fan of Johnny Suh and it’s mostly due to his work ethic. He’d been notorious for his reputation of sleeping around—especially with the opposing side—so it’s hard to convince yourself that he didn’t win the case because of his actual capabilities, but it’s because he pulled some strings.

And Johnny doesn’t put much effort into denying it either.

Albeit deep down, you were a teeny bit envious of his confidence. He struts around the courtroom with ease, and when he presents his position, there’s no staggering in his voice—it’s always crisp and clean, weighted with nothing but credence, and never straying from his initial perspective. It’s never a lack of poise, it’s consistently the look he goes for; from the hand gestures and the furrowed brows, to the rhetorical questions in the end of certain statements that has the speculators and jury sitting at the edge of their seat, Johnny had a talent for performing in the courtroom, but that doesn’t mean anything when the way he gets to the success isn’t ethical.

Just at that moment, his eyes lift from the screen and meet yours.

There isn’t any hesitation when you scramble to grab the remote controller, and the shades drop over the windows instantaneously.

“Fuck,” you mutter underneath your breath, tossing the remote onto your desk and shaking your hands after. What if he thought you were admiring him? Maybe he didn’t see. Yeah. It was for a brief second, and with how close your offices were to each other, it would be common to accidentally lock eyes… right?

Interrupting your thoughts, the office phone rings and it nearly startles the living soul out of you. But before you reach for it, your head tilts to the side curiously because the extension number is familiar—it’s Park Seohyun’s, your boss.

What could she be calling for?

You don’t remember fucking something up—but to be fair, half the times, you never really know if you’ve actually fucked up until someone with steaming ears and a crimson face comes storming in. So… did you do something good? Again, you don’t think that’s right either, because other people would’ve made comments about it.

Deciding to swallow your nerves, you pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Seohyun never fails to be bubbly, and you could never mimic her energy. You definitely had to be born with that kind of enthusiasm. “I have a favor. Hop into my office.”

Leaned back in her leather swivel chair, she had her fingers laced with each other while resting over her stomach. Johnny stands beside you (and you do your best to not look directly at him, especially after that weird staring thing), and you both feel like kids being lectured by parents from how still you are. Her office is huge, probably the size of both yours and Johnny’s combined; with ceiling to floor windows, cases of books that line the perimeter, not to mention the humongous ass couch that practically covers the other half of the room, and her desk was so wide, you estimate about four monitors would fit on there with still additional space for work. That wasn’t even the best part—the view of the city looks almost like a generic lockscreen of a Windows computer, and you’re not even sure why she goes home at night when she basically has a penthouse here.

“As you know, I have a favor.”

“Right,” Johnny retorts, mostly as a filler in the awkward silence. “So… what’s the favor?”

She pulls a box from her purse; square, black and made from a leather material with a lock pad stitched into it, something you’ve never seen before, and she slides the passcode in, then it pops the lid open. A key (a… very small one) sits in the velvety cushion, with nothing else occupying the space with it, and it looks comical. She uses this to open the very top drawer of her desk, and as she pulls using the handle, there’s another box inside, but this time, metal instead of leather, but still black.

What the fuck?

It seems Johnny shares the same thoughts, because he sneaks a glance over at you.

“You see,” Seohyun begins, pressing on the digital keys of the box until there’s a beep at the end and the case hisses open. “There’s a lot of security for this. Which means you understand the importance of it.”

Then, she picks up four manila envelopes and lies on the surface of her wooden top desk. “I have a family emergency to attend to this upcoming week. I’m boarding a flight tonight. So I’m leaving the Hwang v. Yoon case to the two of you.”

“Fuck—”

“The what?”

You and Johnny are sputtering out of shock. The Hwang v. Yoon case is the biggest case that the firm is involved in currently, and the only people involved in it have been Seohyun and Gonghyun. It’s been on every social media platform you could think of; from Facebook to Twitter, TikTok to Instagram—there’s even this weird website for emo/grunge teens or strange kids that like writing fanfic called Tumblr, and whatever that is, it’s discussed on there too.

“What about Gonghyun?”

Seohyun scoffs, closing the drawer and dropping the key back into her special box. Where do you even get a box like that? “He can’t handle this alone. So I’m kicking him off until I come back. I thought about letting the two of you work with him, but his ego is so inflated, it’ll get in the way of our chances of winning. It’s easier if it was just me and him, but seeing that things at home aren’t well, I’m going to need you two to step up to the plate.”

The room goes quiet. The only sounds you hear are the muffled noises of a typical bustling office outside the thick walls of Seohyun’s office, and at first, excitement rushes through your blood because Seohyun thought of you taking over a special, high profile case.

Albeit, another realization gets soaked up, and it’s that Johnny also came to mind, and that because it’s such an important case, the two of you would be… working… many… hours… together.

Maybe you should back out of it—but then again, this is such a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Imagine winning this— it wouldn’t be good for just the law firm, it’d be good for you too. Your name, in articles on these big fancy news websites, perhaps even on new channels, talking about how you, this amazing lawyer, won the Hwang v. Yoon case.

But then you’re snapped back into reality when Johnny leans over to take the envelopes from Seohyun.

If your name is on those platforms, so is Johnny’s.

God, this guy just ruins everything, doesn’t he?

“We’ll take care of it, Seohyun. You can trust us,” he says assuringly, a smile tugging on each corner of his lips with that dazzling gaze. “We’ll be at our best.”

Kiss ass.

If you had the option, you wouldn’t be spending your Saturday night here at work, in one of those conference rooms with a long table in the middle, a big projector that displays on the wall, and a random black leather loveseat couch that lines the one corner in case there’s too many occupants.

Especially since the person who’s accompanying you is Johnny Suh.

There’s probably a lot of people who would kill to be in your position (Hyeri being one of them), but you dread it. Not to be that person, but what’s so special about him anyway? What? He’s tall, has some muscles, long luscious hair that he can slick back with that sultry stare—wait, what?

“Alright, moving on…” From what? You guys just started? It’d been clear with Seohyun that the mornings would be dedicated to other cases, but nights would be considered overtime and where you’d zoom in your focus on Ms. Hwang’s justice. “Let’s take a look at the facts here.”

Johnny slips off his blazer, hanging it on the back of one of the chairs as you’re seated in another, leaning back comfortably with an arm resting on the table. He loosens the first few buttons of his dress shirt before folding up the sleeves, and that’s when you notice a little thing in the inner crook of his elbow—is that a fucking sunflower? Is that what he uses to reel girls in? That he’s soft enough to have a pretty little flower etched onto his gentle, silky and supple—

“Okay,” he says, interjecting into your thoughts with a laser pointer in his hand. He taps on the space bar of his laptop that mirrors what’s on his screen, but then, that’s when you realize what’s on the slides.

There’s a collage of pictures, mostly street, casually walking themed ones, but the common factor was that they were of Yoon Changmin, the man you guys were up against. They were all paparazzi-like photos, which begs the question, how did he get pics like this, and why did he get them?

“What’s the point of this?” you ask, voice laced with nothing but suspicion.

“We gotta get into the mind of the enemy.” You wanna get into the mind of your enemy, too.

You gesture to the one image of Changmin with an arm around his girlfriend and a finger up his nose. “Seems like he’s trying to reach inside of his head instead of us. These are just everyday pictures, Johnny. What’s that going to do for us?”

“Well,” he begins, turning to look at the wall of ‘evidence’. “You see—wait, holy shit.”

Freezing in the midst of reaching for your coffee, your head jolts in the direction of your partner. “What? What is it?”

“Holy shit,” he exclaims, “Hoooooooooly shit. Why didn’t I see this before? This changes everything.”

Furrowing your brows, you’ve given up getting your drink and dropped your hands onto the table. “Tell me, what is it?”

“This is a game changer.”

“Johnny,” you call out sternly, and his eyes link with yours before he instantly points to a particular picture with his red laser pointer.

“Look at that.” There’s pride saturated in his words, but when you look at what he’s indicating, your body slouches in disappointment.

Why the hell was he directing your attention onto Changmin’s thighs? Surely, there’s no denying that they were attractive—you recall that his alibi was at the gym that very night of the crime.

“What? He’s guilty for showing off his toothpick legs?” They were lean, you never said they were muscular.

“No,” he retorts, slightly irritated by your response as he rolls his eyes. “Look at his pants.”

“Okay…”

“They’re jean shorts.”

There’s a pregnant pause, but the expression on your face is so loud it can’t be hidden.

Johnny continues, “That’s a fashion crime.” He says it as if it’s an obvious fact known by many. “Not to mention that it’s fucking raw hem. He should be arrested.”

Suddenly, your opinion of him thinking too much with his heart dissipates because it seems like he’s thinking out of his ass instead. Did he win those cases out of pity? How did this guy even pass the bar? How about law school? How the hell did he even get into law school?

“I don’t think—”

“Listen, alright, just hear me out,” he’s got the palms of his hands resting flat on the surface of the table, doing his best to gain your full undivided attention. “Only assholes wear jean shorts. They flaunt that shit around like they own the place, but they’re horrendous pieces of clothing that should not be on a male’s body. I don’t care what you say, what your opinion is, because that is a fact.”

Puffing your cheeks, you feel at a loss. If Johnny is who you had to get this done, it feels like you’re not going to be finding much evidence any time soon.

“Okay, if… if that’s how you want to play it, then show me the evidence—other than those 2012 cut off denim shorts.”

He reaches over to hit his space bar again, then with a wink and a slide change, he leans closer to you and says with that deep, honeyed voice, “Gladly.”

You hate admitting when you’re wrong.

Ironically, you concede and will confess when you actually are, but it doesn’t mean that you enjoy it. For example, when Hyeri claims that the intern Mark had a crush on you, you quickly waved her off, stating something along the lines of, “I’m too intimidating; there’s better chances of him being scared of me than ever finding me attractive.” And then a week later, you owed Hyeri free lunch at that hip ramen place downtown because Mark had approached your desk that very morning with a bouquet of red roses flowers for you, a cheeky grin glued to his face with pools of hearts in his eyes, and ready to ask you on a date because it was the day after his internship had ended. Naturally, it wasn’t fun rejecting that poor college boy.

But, you won’t say you find Johnny interesting or handsome. Or that there’s potential when it came to possibly (just barely the slightest smidge) that you’d ever consider asking Johnny out. He’s your enemy here, you’ve mentioned that a multitude of times, and you stand firm on that very declaration, despite the fact that sometimes when he gets too close, your breath gets caught in your throat and you feel like you can’t get whatever’s lodged in out.

Albeit it’s not the whole “you guys are gonna end up together” comment that Hyeri makes and resulting in you denying it afterwards, it’s that Johnny might… be a decent lawyer.

He’s not the best one you’ve seen; the stupid revelation he had on the first day working on the case about the jean shorts is evidence for it, but it’s the days following that were slowly changing your perspective on him.

When you said, “He thinks too much with his heart more than with his head,” it was 100% correct.

When meeting with potential witnesses, you recognized that Johnny empathizes with people often; when they cry and start panicking from being overwhelmed, he's quick on his feet to put an arm around them, share reassuring words, and have them back to normal in record’s time.

And, well… you? You’re the one making them cry in the first place.

You don’t want to fully take the blame for being the cause of their tears, but people need to hear what’s happening, and the very detail that they can’t even handle this information probably means they’re not worthwhile as a key witness.

Johnny, of course, thinks otherwise.

He believes that these people should have a voice (although you’ve alluded that they might be more useless than helpful), and putting them on the stand with Yoon Changmin there would change the view of the jury to supporting Hwang Naeri.

“Listen, if we get these people to sign the form, we’d get witnesses and it’ll help Naeri,” Johnny claims, frantically moving his arms annoyingly as he talks, trying his best to express the gravity of the situation, “and maybe, maybe, money wouldn’t be how Changmin wins, but how he loses. We can’t have another person with jean shorts walking on the streets of our city like this—they deserve to go to prison.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Why does this always revert back to the jean shorts?”

“It always has to do with jean shorts,” he snaps back matter-of-factly. “Any straight guy wearing jean shorts with that much goddamn confidence has done some wrong in their lives.”

“Right, but I’m pretty sure that the crimes he did are mainly the reason why he’s being prosecuted against.”

“Jean shorts are the windows to the soul.”

“I’m almost 100% sure that eyes are the windows to the soul, but whatever. If you genuinely believe that the women we met today would benefit our case, then… okay. Let’s bring them to the stand.”

On the contrary to you, Johnny doesn’t have a hard time convincing witnesses to testify. You see the way that he works; those kind eyes directed at the participants, the pools of chocolate were sweet, saturated in nothing but tenderness and warmth, then he does that weird thing where he reaches for their hands and cups them before the words that escapes from his lips are enough to swoon them to stand in front of a courtroom.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s a method to his so-called madness.

Aggression and bluntness don’t work, it seems, because when you’re the one attempting to convince these people to go against the man that had done them wrong, they’re less willing to do it. Something about ‘moving on,’ and ‘not wanting to relive those memories again,’ but if it was you, you’d want justice. Then again, not everyone is like you, and not everyone thinks like you, and spending this abundance of time with Johnny is slowly getting you to ease into that perspective.

So… the initial impression you had of him may have been wrong.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re developing some feelings for him, just as Hyeri predicted.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

His abrupt personal question is enough to have the coffee spill into your mouth to slide down the ‘wrong throat’ because you’re choking, hand on your chest as you’re tackling to regain your breath again and Johnny only stares in disbelief, blinking blankly. “Are… are you okay?”

You glare at him through a hooded gaze. “Well,” you clear your throat once more. “Now, I am.”

“Cool.” He nods, retracting his hand so he could rub your back soothingly, deciding it’s best to stay away. “Are you going to answer my question?”

Quirking a brow, your head tilts slightly in puzzlement. “Why are you asking this?”

Johnny shrugs. “Isn’t it weird that we’ve hung out with each other for a whole week—stayed here for nights and we both don’t know anything about each other?”

Tapping your fingers against the wooden top table, you sigh. Maybe he’s got a point; after all, “Keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer,” right?

“No, I’m single.”

Johnny’s face suddenly brightens, ears perked, and his body straightens its posture in his seat at this revelation. “Oh, uh, I didn’t know that. You seemed busy in your personal life, so I, uh… was just wondering.” He looked anxious, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. “I, um, I’m single too, by the way, in case you’re wondering.” You weren’t.

The plethora of cardboard and plastic boxes scattered across the table was a representation of the night. It’s been long, exhausting, and messy, mostly because it’s a Friday night, the hearing was on Monday, and the two of you were nowhere near close to having enough to present to the court. In fear of disappointing Seohyun, the two of you agreed to stay over the office for the weekend to cram work for the case. There’s no denying that the atmosphere is weirder on the weekends, especially since, well, no one really comes here on the weekends. Johnny had to use the bathroom earlier and ran into the cleaning lady and she nearly shit her pants because she didn’t think anyone was here, so she had music blasting in her headphones.

Johnny is… interesting. He makes you laugh—or well, want to laugh, but you don’t give him that sense of satisfaction—and he’s smart but in his own weird way. He’s not like the other lawyers you’ve met, or any of the law students you attended University with because he’s more lighthearted and free-spirited than the rest, taking life in strides instead of just overwhelming himself in the abundance of stress that work brings.

He’s entirely the opposite of you.

And maybe you could learn something from the guy, but there’s something in you that brews hatred toward him. Possibility that you resent how easy he makes being a lawyer seem when you’re struggling in your day-to-day life to make things work.

But it’s way too fucking hard when he’s just… like that.

Despite all of that, he’s very generous and kind toward you. On rough days, he delivers your coffee order, the one you always get because he remembers what you asked the intern to get for you the last time, and he’s good at identifying when you’re just having that kind of day. You eventually learn he has a photographic memory (fucking show off), so when he saw that crumpled napkin with scribbles of what you want in that dumb intern’s hand, it wasn’t hard to remember. Which, by the way, is how he’s able to get into the most prestigious school for undergrad, manage to pass the bar so easily, and get into law school effortlessly.

And knowing this information sort of angers you more.

You know this isn’t his fault—he’s been blessed with a trait that people desire, one that you also yearn for, but the lucky ones get handed a lot of things in life. You wonder if he’s the type of guy who wins girls easily after matching with them on dating sites because of this stupid ass ‘photographic memory.’ Does he sleep with them right after? Does it ever get serious?

You shrug your shoulders and shake your head. You shouldn’t even let these strange thoughts haunt you, especially when you don’t even like him.

He’s a spoiled brat who gets everything handed to him on a silver platter.

So you’re left counting the remaining days until the trial so you don’t ever have to work with Johnny Suh this closely again.

Okay, well, it’s evident that bad luck is glued to your side because after you win the Hwang v. Yoon case for your law firm with that asshole, Seohyun is so impressed. So goddamn impressed that she insists that all the high profile cases are to be given to both you and Johnny.

To work as a team.

Together.

Jesus, this is Hell for you.

Surely, the promotion and raise that came along with it was definitely a plus, but it has you wondering if it’s even worth it. He’s been your unspoken enemy since the first day, and although you think you’re pretty forthright about your hatred for this guy, he can’t seem to read social cues.

When you’re pushing the double doors into the conference room the two of you often spend working on cases in, you expect Johnny to be ready for another day. But strangely enough, Johnny doesn’t have his laptop out or any of the notebooks sprawled across the table.

“Um,” you slide the strap of your bag off your shoulder and onto the spare chair. “Did you come late or something?”

He takes in a deep breath like he’s been holding back something. “We need to talk.”

There’s worry inscribed into his features; from the crease in between his brows, to his pursed lips, and eyes soaked in concern, almost like he’s got bad news to share and it has your stomach in knots. Was it that the case was thrown out? It couldn’t be, right? You both worked hard, presented your stance to the point that the jury and the judge were in awe with your findings. Sure, you had to cover Johnny’s mouth right before he was about to go off in a tangent about jean shorts, but overall, it was a good win, a hard one to go back on and pull out the wrongs of it. So what was it?

“I’m quitting our partnership.”

You blink. “What?”

He gestures to the room with his hands as if there’s anything out to reference. “This thing. Our work. The big profile cases. The famous stuff. I told Seohyun that I won’t be doing it anymore and she can revoke the promotion and the raise.”

You’re still not catching on. “… Why?” Was it something you did? Yeah, you weren’t a big fan of Johnny either, but were you so bad that he decided to not go through with the raise because of you?

“Because,” he pushes his blazer back, hands sliding into the front pockets of his navy blue trousers. “There’s a policy put into place. Those who are on the same cases cannot have any personal relations with each other that extend past friendships.”

“We’re not even friends?” With confusion written across your face, your head tilts to the side. “I’m not… I’m not catching on here.”

“I like you.”

Startled, the words you want to say are stolen out of your mouth. You’re left with a mixture of perturbation and bewilderment, uncertain where to go from there because Johnny asked for the removal of both a promotion and additional money that could be so good for his career… and it’s all because he has a crush on you?

“You quit the best thing that could’ve happened to you because you like me?”

“Yeah,” Johnny states calmly, sucking in his cheeks for a brief moment. “Ain’t that romantic?”

You scoff. “No. Absolutely not. You’re insane! Why would you do yourself dirty like that? Use your head, Johnny, you’re constantly thinking with that stupid heart of yours, and hate to break it to you, but it won’t get you anywhere.” Combing your hair with your fingers, you let out a sigh. “Go ask Seohyun for the position back. Say you made a mistake and—”

“I’m not asking her for the position back.”

Johnny doesn’t make any sense to you. “What? Why wouldn’t you do that?

“Because,” he laughs in disbelief, not because he thinks you’re funny. “I’m not going to force myself to work with a girl that I keep falling for. That’s self-inflicting, you realize that, right? You’re amazing, but you can seriously be so dense sometimes.”

“I’m dense? You just told one of the best law firms in the city that you don’t want to work on the important cases anymore because you have a stupid crush on your partner!”

“If we were on a team with more people, maybe it’d be different. But it’s just us two. You think I won’t fall any harder? That’s not easy. Every time I see you working, I swear I could be hopelessly in love with you one day.”

Your heart stops for a second.

This is Johnny Suh you were talking about here. One of the claimed best lawyers in your office, one of the most intelligent people that Hyeri has ever met, and Seohyun evidently backs this up because she’s given him so much recognition for his work. He’s the guy who worked with you to win the Hwang v. Yoon case, he’s the one who brought up the stupid jean shorts that seemed so far-fetched at the time, but they were a crucial detail everyone missed—it so happened that when Changmin bought those dumb shorts, there was evidence of at least one of his crimes in that store from the security cameras.

Any cis-gendered male who wears jean shorts can’t be trusted, according to Johnny.

And candidly speaking? You couldn’t even deny that. Your past two ex-boyfriends both wore jean shorts and the one cheated on you and the other one was caught money laundering.

“Listen,” he begins, interrupting your foggy thoughts. “I’m not asking you to tell me you like me back. I’m telling you because you should know, and that I can’t go on any further without letting you know. I’ll, uh, be in my office. Seohyun said she’d find a replacement for me.”

Hyeri is his replacement.

She’s great company and does a good job of helping you with whatever you need, but that was just it. Hyeri followed you, she never led with you, just as Johnny does. Agreeing with everything you say, mindlessly trailing behind everything you do—Hyeri was smart, but she couldn’t figure out how to think for herself when it came to these bigger cases because she’s never been given such a responsibility. But you couldn’t even blame her because it’s what she was told to do under Gonghyun.

“You said that you think Maeri snatched the bracelet?”

“No, I said if you watched the security video that the jewelry store submitted, it clearly shows that Maeri snatched the bracelet. Not that I ‘think.’ The proof is right there, Hyeri.”

She nods, resuming back to her work on the computer. Truthfully, Hyeri felt more like an assistant than a co-worker, someone to bounce ideas off of and to see from a different perspective. And as much as you hated Johnny, he had decent points. He had ways of making you put yourself into the shoes of people you never thought you were; although the guy was obnoxious, at least he actually was… good at his job.

Deciding you can’t take it anymore when Hyeri asks for the tenth time that hour about your beliefs rather than her own, you abruptly stand from your seat.

“Where are you going?”

“Out,” you reply shortly. “I’ll be back.”

It was just a spontaneous thought. It’s after hours, and although there are some people who stay behind to get some work done, you had your doubts that Johnny would still be here. He seems to have a better grip on that work/life balance thing people talked about (unlike yourself), but it didn’t hurt to check his office, right?

It’s a good thing you went with it. Because right across from yours, there’s Johnny.

There’s one single lamp that shines over the tabletop of his desk, and the other sources of light in his office are from his computer screen and the ones from the city skyline from behind him. It has him seemingly angelic like this, so serene, calm, and collected, only focused on what’s laid out in front of him. The sun has gone down, people have gone home, but Johnny remains, hardworking as always, despite your previous observations that he’s a lazy, unprofessional guy who gets everything handed down to him.

With a knock on his glass door, he flinches, head raising up and eyes meeting yours.

Were his eyes always this sparkly?

Opening the door, Johnny drops the pen in his hand and crosses his arms before leaning back in his seat. “What’s up?”

“You’re here late,” you state the obvious, and Johnny only nods in return, without a rebuttal in sight. “You aren’t normally here late. At least, before the Hwang v. Yoon case.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But Seohyun dropped something on my desk this morning. Wanted to work on it. What brings you here?”

Inhaling in a deep breath of courage, your hands bundle up into a fist by your side. “Please come back.”

Johnny raises a brow. “What?”

“Come back,” you reiterate, this time, it’s less tense and releases with ease. Caving in isn’t usually this effortless to you, but something about Johnny makes you feel… comfortable enough.“Come back and work with me again. Yes, I’m not supportive of how you do things—”

“Then let’s go out on a date.”

You freeze. Legs rooted into the floors of Johnny’s office, you’re left immobile and diffident on how to react next. It wasn’t what you were expecting, although you weren’t quite sure what you were hoping to anticipate, but it most definitely was not this.

“I—”

“I said my terms,” he retorts, shutting the book in front of him before shuffling up from his seat. He’s leaving, you realize, and Johnny’s ready to head home for the night and you’re not sure if you could handle an entire weekend with Hyeri here. “And, I meant what I said. One date, and if it really doesn’t work out, I’ll stay on the case.”

Chewing on your bottom lip anxiously, the next words that come out are out of character for you. “And… what if it does?”

A soft smile tugs from each corner of his mouth. “Then we’ll figure it out from there. Promise.”

This is… awkward. It shouldn’t be, but yet somehow, it remains awkward.

You’ve spent weeks with Johnny before, and those moments were in a room, in the middle of the night, and alone. Hours and hours were dedicated to work, yes, but it was just the two of you and nobody else.

So why is it so weird being in a five Michelin star restaurant with him?

Maybe it’s the atmosphere. The dim lights, the white clothed tables in lieu of the scratched up wooden one back at the law firm, and instead of leather seats, there’s a neutral beige chaise cushion for the dining chair, slightly less comfortable because it doesn’t recline like the one in your office. Instead of an array of photos and evidence disseminated in front of you, there’s a laminated menu with a multitude of options of what to have for dinner.

Johnny gets the steak with mashed potatoes and string beans, and you order something similar but seared salmon for the main protein. The waitress offers wine, babbling on about the age of the red, where the vineyard is located, and the dryness to sweetness—to be honest, you could care less; you’d rather have gin and sprite with a squirt of lime. A couple glasses of that and you can almost guarantee that the night would end with a deep slumber.

Oddly enough, Johnny seems nervous. Ever since he pulled up in his midnight black Audi in front of your apartment complex, he’s been acting strange. He keeps wiping his sweaty palms off the material of his trousers, occasionally swiping off the droplets that fall on the side of his face.

“Are you… okay?” you suddenly ask, adjusting your dress in your seat. Deciding to go with a black silk dress with a slit up the leg and your hair let down, it’s not a look you often sport but since you’re going on a date (one you haven’t been on in quite some time), you figured it would be nice to at least play the part.

“I’m, uh, honestly, I’ve never really asked a girl out before.”

You quirk a brow curiously. “What? You’re telling me you never asked a girl out before?”

He lets out a bashful laugh with a faint nod, making an attempt to swallow his nerves after. “Honestly, I’ve always been asked out and not the other way around. Not to sound like that guy, but I never really had to put effort into trying for girls. They kind of just…”

“—Throw themselves at you?”

He beams. “Yeah! Like that. I don’t really know how to react half the time, but it makes the whole dating scene a little bit easier.” Geez, he called you dense, but he’s over here acting clueless.

Either way, it feels like whatever opinion you had about Johnny remained true. He never had to try when it came to the dating scene, and you could only imagine what that means for work and the relationships he has with the women in your career field.

“Mm, does that usually happen with work too?”

Befuddled, Johnny leans back in his chair. “What do you mean by that?”

With a shrug of your shoulders, you’re poking the meat of your salmon that falls off easily. After the first initial bite, the fish practically melts on impact when it touches the tip of your tongue, smooth like butter and bursting with flavor that couldn’t be described by any common person because it wouldn’t do the salmon justice. Johnny seemed to put a lot into this date, and you’re left pondering what the point of this was. Did he actually like you, or was he trying to get into your head? “Just seems like you get a lot of special treatment.”

“Are you jealous?”

“In what way?” you snap back.

“Are you jealous of me because I’m getting this so-called special treatment that you think I’ve always had, or were you jealous of the girls that seemingly got my attention?”

You’re left without anything to say.

It was a good observation he made because truthfully, you never saw it like that.

In actuality, you often saw Johnny as your rival. He climbed the ladder in the field with ease, and it wasn’t hard to quickly blame his success on the fact that he was a guy in a male dominated industry, but the fact that there’s a possible interpretation for your hatred may be from these feelings you might’ve been harboring for him this entire time… that can’t be it… right?

“I mean, look at where you are now,” you begin, trying to defend yourself. It can’t be true that the reason you’ve been bitter about Johnny was because of the girls that got his attention, and one of them not being you. “You got a high position from—”

“—From hard work,” Johnny interjects with his brows furrowed. “I didn’t get to where I was because I slept around, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I knew you sort of always hated me, but I’ve always admired you. I like your work ethic, I like your style, even though we’re both on opposite spectrums, I like the way you think and I wanted to know what it was like being partners with you. Getting to be on that case with you showed me more than just who you were as a lawyer, but who you were as a person. I like you, but I’m trying to put my finger on why you hate me so much.”

“So you noticed.” Sucking in your cheeks, your eyes trail elsewhere—from the fork that lays beside your plate, to the glass filled halfway with wine, to the little candle that sits in between the two of you that flickers the way he has your heart when he expresses once more how he feels about you.

“Yeah, of course I noticed. If you like someone, it’s kind to miss details like that about them. So… you really hated me because you thought I slept my way to the top, huh?”

“I mean…” shoulders dropping in exasperation, you run your fingers through your disheveled hair. “All those rumors—”

“Again, they’re just rumors. I worked hard to get here, you know. And I’m kind of offended that you thought of me that way.”

You scoff. “They’re rumors, Johnny, it’s kind of hard to ignore all the office gossip when that’s all you hear. Plus, it wasn’t hard to believe either, with the whole flirtatious act whenever you encounter anyone who’s breathing and has a vagina.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

“You need a book for dummies that elaborates on what’s flirting or not, because Johnny Suh, whatever it is you do with your body language in front of that chick who sits by the front door.”

“You mean Siwoo? The pregnant one who’s married to her highschool sweetheart? Also, how do you not know our receptionist’s name?”

You throw your arms into the air. “How am I supposed to know her name?”

He tilts his head to the side, genuinely baffled. “Do you… not talk to anyone outside of Hyeri?”

Your silence answers his question.

“I… honestly, I don’t know if I should be offended or if I should be honored. You think I didn’t earn anything that I have now, you think that everything I have was handed to me. On one hand, it’s flattering that you think my looks and my bedroom skills could do that but at the same time… I’m offended because you think I’m incapable.”

“I never said you were incapable—”

“But you implied it.”

Hands falling onto your lap, it’s your turn to gulp. His words come shooting at you, but you’re without a shield to protect yourself, and with the new experience of working with Johnny, there comes the realization at times that Johnny is a hard worker. There are some things that he says and does that aren’t like the people you’ve encountered, and being put on new cases with Hyeri only proved it. He’s thoughtful in the sense that whenever you’d bring up your stance on something, he challenges you with what the defense might counter.

Johnny makes you want to be better. Not just against him, but to brush off the dust on your skills and enter into the battlefield of a courtroom to showcase them.

“Well, if you’re staying silent, I just want to say that I tried,” the crinkle in between your brows makes another appearance because Johnny is great at leaving you stunned and confused. “I really like you. I love how your head works, and I wanna be with someone like that but I also can’t be with someone who doesn’t respect me.”

Why is it that when you’re in that conference room with him, you’re not afraid and never running out of things to say, but now you’re empty handed?

“I’ll pay for dinner. Grab you an Uber. I honestly thought I could overlook those things, and maybe your perspective for me has changed, but I could see it on your face. It’s the same.”

After that date with Johnny, his life turns back to normal.

Yours? Not so much.

Candidly speaking, part of you missed working with Johnny. You were wrong about him, so wrong, and even when you wanted to apologize at the dinner for what you thought of him, the pride in you was like a vicious plague that blackened your insides, preventing you from ever saying those words.

Oftentimes, you’d still be able to sneak a glimpse of him in his office with that same look on his face—full of concentration and nothing else in his mind other than the task at hand.

The cases you have with Hyeri entail a head like Johnny’s. Someone who could question you, to protest against your stance when there could be flaws in it. It feels like deja vu each time you think about it, each time you open a new case file and Hyeri sits there, perched in that seat beside yours, eyes sparkling with what you have in mind next, instead of what she has going on in hers.

Although you’ve tried convincing yourself that maybe, just maybe, what you feel for Johnny is purely professional but when you see him standing by the water cooler with a couple of your coworkers, eyes mimicking the moon crescents in the skies, replicating the ways his lips curl in elation—it was beginning hard to believe that it was all platonic feelings.

So maybe you should be bold for once. Pull off that exterior that displays you as someone who isn’t just independent and assiduous, but someone who’s stubborn and aggressive in getting what they want—and not in a good way.

This time, you’ll show it in a good way.

Or at least, you’ll try.

Johnny is a routine kind-of-guy—he grabs an iced americano every morning at the coffee shop downstairs at the edge of the street, he does his daily 11:00AM drop-by at the water cooler to refill his Hydroflask (which was his prized possession, by the way), and parked in the same exact spot in the parking garage of your building, despite there being an abundance of places he could choose.

That’s why you decide to stand by his car after work that day. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands shaking because it’s your turn to feel anxious. That blazer that once fit so comfortably in the morning suddenly feels tight and hot in the afternoon, and the weather hasn’t even changed. Your bag slung over your shoulder weighs ten times heavier than an hour ago, and you can’t stop your jaw from tightening.

Before your thoughts could spiral off all the possibilities of what the outcome may be when you tell Johnny how you feel, he’s already standing there, feet away from you with that dip in the fronts of his brows that you want to smoothen out the crinkles of with the pad of your thumb.

“Hi,” you greet, faint and peculiarly different from your other approaches. “Um, I just… was waiting for you.”

“Hey,” Johnny says back, the first few buttons of his shirt already unraveled, his blazer hung over his forearm and the sleeves are rolled up. “I see that. What’s up with you?”

“Um,” your leg was jittery, hard to control so you spat everything you had to say out as fast as you could before he could see right through you. “I just wanted to apologize. For everything. You’re admirable, kind, and I wish I inhabited those same characteristics you have. I think professionally, you’ve got great ideas, one that could be implemented into mine and what we did together for that case was just… yeah. We could do something big if we put our heads together.”

Johnny nods in agreement. The relationship between you two work-wise was obvious, he knew that much. “And what about… outside of that?”

“I like you,” you choked, barely getting the words out. “More than just coworkers, um, I guess, more than friends but I’m not really sure since you walked out on our first date,” inhaling in a deep breath of courage, you continue on, “and I don’t know how you feel now after I’m standing before you like this, asking for another chance and that I’m sorry.”

He stares at you blankly, and it leaves you unsure whether or not he accepts your apology. “You know why we ended that date early.”

“Well,” you start again, “can we… start over and try again? I promise I won’t tempt you to end the date early this time.”

And with that, there’s the signature smile that Johnny sports that swoons girls, makes their knees weak, and heart clench but this time… it’s just for you.

“I’d really like that.”

#ficscafe #nct fanfic #johnny x reader #johnny fanfic #johnny suh #johnny nct #nct 127 #nct 127 fanfic #suh johnny #gyukultfics #idk what else to tag #hopefully this does well :|

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i-like-sparkly-things · 3 years

Text

Right in front of you

A Halstead!sister

Jay held a strong grip on your upper arm as he led you out to the school hall. "What the hell was that Y/N? Are you happy now? God.... I can't believe you cheated!" he sneered, "EYES UP HERE Y/N!! "

"I'm sorry" you sighed, locking eyes with Jay, silently praying that he would let this go. It was only one time anyway. It wasn't a big deal.

But he let out a hollow laugh, "Thirty percent, Y/N, THIRTY PERCENT. You're going to have to do better than a half-ass apology. What exactly are you sorry for? Huh? For cheating? Or being caught?"

Requested : Yes by @study-coffee-chicago : They found out she cheated on a test in high school...and Jay's the one who has to pick her up.

Warnings : angry!Jay (lots of it), alcohol, swearing, anxiety attacks

Note : I am so so so sorry this so longg 😭 I ended up so far away from the actual request kayela please don't block mee 😭 butt I've learned alot in writing abt active and passive voices and using more imagery Yayy!! I'm so glad that yall are ok with my grammar thank uu🥺

MASTERLIST HERE

The piles of homework and flashcards you needed to memorize had no end in sight, and now that Will was taking nightshifts along with his usual double shifts, and intelligence was tracking down an underground drug cartel, you spent most days alone, allowing your mind to engulf you.

Every time you sat down to study, you felt a striking pain in your chest. In mere seconds the air was sucked out of your lungs and you found yourself panting, desperate to get oxygen back into your body.

You would be surrounded by books and worksheets and you could swear the walls of your room were closing in towards you, trapping you in a sea of incomplete work.

You failed to follow the schedules and to do lists you had made for yourself. Staring at them, hoping the essays would write themselves.

All you needed, was a break. A moment to relax from anything and everything.

So when your best friend mentioned that her brother used to drink a little before he appeared for an exam, your mind was quick to catch on.

Last night you had borrowed a little bit of beer from Jay's stash of alcohol and took a few sips of it as you studied.

The more you drank, the less bitter it became. It was a weird, new sensation, but it worked nonetheless.

Except now, you were sitting in the girls bathroom at school, ramaging through your notes, trying to recollect what you had learned yesterday.

You saw what you had underlined and highlighted— names in pink and important dates in yellow—but your mind came up blank.

Flipping the pages you saw people in wigs, and castles burning to the ground —None of which you recognized.

A wave of anxiety rippled through you unable to comprehend your next thought —you were going to fail.

Your head was throbbing as you ran a hand down face, massaging your temples trying to calm yourself down.

You took out your water bottle that you had filled with beer and swallowed a few gulps, hoping that it would help you think straight.

You groaned, feeling the sting of alcohol at the back of your throat, popping some mints into your mouth, you ran towards the exam hall.

***

Your foot bounced on the polished wood floors as sweat pooled on your forehead.

You thought you were careful —only taking a peek from your friends answer sheet when Mrs.Ling's back was facing you.

Everything would have worked out if it wasn't for that kid sitting behind you. In a split second your teacher turned around, when he dropped his pen, to see you peering over your partner's desk.

Now you were sitting in the principles office praying that Jay wouldn't be the one picking you up.

You could already imagine his anger at you for pulling him away from his case, only to find you cheated.

Unfortunately luck was not on your side today.

You dare not look at Jay as he entered the office, letting out a huff as he sat down. You could feel the rage emitting him, tension filling the room, as he burned holes looking at you.

"I'll get straight to the point" Your principal started.

"Please" Jay growled, struggling to contain himself. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, when he got the call saying that you had cheated on your midterms.

You and Will were alike,at least he thought so, both good at science and math but weak at geography and history. Nonetheless you continued to secure good grades for the most part.

"Y/n here, was caught cheating from a classmates answer sheet. Our teacher caught her red handed. I truly did not expect this from you. These midterms cost thirty percent of your grade..... "

Pretty soon his voice was muffled like he was getting farther and farther away from you. His figure swayed in front of you as you squinted your eyes to keep him in the center of your vision.

" You are suspended, Mrs halstead"

Your eyes widened , your body choosing the perfect time to bring out what little beer you had taken when you heard those words, letting the alcohol mix with the adrenaline.

"WHAT??!! " Damn, alcohol really bought out your courage as Jay stared at you in shock at your audacity.

"Y/n, your lucky I'm letting you retake the exam. That's only because you've had a clean record so far. I strongly suggest you start preparing early Ms. halstead" your principal said in a firm but monotone voice that left you speechless.

Jay held a strong grip on your upper arm as he led you out to the school hall. "What the hell was that Y/N? Are you happy now? God.... I can't believe you cheated!" he sneered, "EYES UP HERE Y/N!! "

Oh god. Every now and then, the ground would sway beneath you, tiles shifting in your vision. But you counted your steps, carefully putting one foot in front of the other, not wanting Jay to find out what else you had done........ until now.

You tilted your head, only to be met with your brother's piercing stare but little did he know, now it made it infinitely harder to concentrate on your walking.

"I'm sorry" you sighed, locking eyes with Jay, silently praying that he would let this go. It was only one time anyway. It wasn't a big deal.

But he let out a hollow laugh, "Thirty percent, Y/N, THIRTY PERCENT. You're going to have to do better than a half-ass apology. What exactly are you sorry for? Huh? For cheating? *Or being caught?*"

***

You rested your head on the seat as Jay entered the truck, flinching, when he slammed the door shut. Your pounding headache was getting worse by the minute, as your ears started to ring.

You blinked a few times squinting to focus on the road ahead of you but the fast-moving cars and the loud horns made you feel like your head was going to explode.

"Y/n," he addressed you, much calmer now.

You forced yourself to turn to your brother, who wore a confused expression.

But the moment he saw your deshelfed hair and your cracked lips, a wave of worry crashed over him. What the hell?

The truck came to a stop at a red light and Jay immediately scanned you over "Y/n?" he grabbed your chin, his jaw dropping, as he came face to face with reality.

"Are you drunk!!?" he barked , steam basically pouring out of his ears.

But your pleading eyes and empty silence gave him the answer he needed. "Are you kidding me??" he snarled as he slammed the steering wheel.

Oh God no. A blinding pain ripped through your head when Jay's palms made contact with the hard plastic. You winched turning your head away from your furious brother, letting out a whimper.

Jay's eyes widened at the sound, his heart breaking, realizing the pain you were in.

If he was going to be mad at you or at least punish you, you needed to be sober.

He stepped on the pedal as the light turned green taking a few breaths, trying to calm himself down.

With the vice lords reclaiming their territory and selling uncut fentanyl, bodies were dropping all over the city most of them being kids.

Kids..... your age.

Every kid at the morgue, just reminded him of you. He saw parents sobbing, begging for their kids to come back but Jay new better. They were never going to come home. Ever.

So he made it a priority to catch these ruthless creatures. He made it a priority over his sleep, over nine hours shifts and unknown to him, over spending time with you.

"Hey , hey" he whispered, not wanting to hurt you again, "We'll talk about this later ok? for now...... just..... it's ok..... I've got you" here reached out his hand, the other still on the steering wheel, to slowly rub your back as you tried to breath through the pain.

" I got you"

***

Jay wrapped a hand around you allowing you to hold onto him for support.

Silently, he deposited you on the couch, laying you down. He knew that he wasn't in any state to talk to you. He needed to clear his mind from his racing thoughts and rueful images of dying teenagers.

His phone rang, indicating that the district was awaiting him. "Here" he reluctantly shook your shoulders "Y/n, I need to go ok? Will will be here soon"

***

Almost half an hour had passed and you were waiting for Will to get out of the shower. You'd heard Jay explain everything to him over the phone.

You thought about how disappointed he would be.

Will —being the nerd he was— always helped you with your projects and gave you pop quizzes during breakfast, before your exams. He taught you how to organize flashcards just like he did in med school.

Even through your blurry thoughts, the image of Will's betrayed face and embarrassed eyes, knowing you cheated, lingered on your mind.

Your body was all over the place. Tiny noises echoing through your ear. Your muscles simultaneously aching and loose.

You were shivering as you tried to curl up into a ball. Your body trying to hold what little heat it had within itself.

But nothing stopped your tears.

You felt water drops make their way down your cheeks forming small splotches of water on the cushion you laid your head on.

And you didn't bother to wipe them away.

Will more or less was in the same state you were in. There was a multi-vehicle accident on the highway and victims were piling in the ED. He was running from one treatment room to the other, waiting to get back home and crash.

Will walked over to you with a huge glass of water and an advil, gently nudging you to sit up.

Your head still pounded, your eyes zoning in and out of the figure in front of you "Y/n, here drink the whole glass and take this" Will soothed, placing the glass and the pill in your hand "I—I'm sorry" You whispered, distracting yourself from Will's eyes.

Will knew he should be angry. Just like Jay was but he couldn't bring himself to blaming you, not until he had the full story anyway.

You looked so petite on the enormous couch, your legs folded on top of each other, arms shaking as you drowned the glass of water along with the Advil.

Your red puffy eyes and tear strained cheeks,were a contrast from your usual self. or he thinks. He's been pretty busy lately, so he's not too sure. " We'll talk about it later. I'm not angry. I promise"

He assured and was about to head to bed himself when you grabbed his wrist.

If he wasn't angry at you then maybe— just maybe—he would help you.

"Stay" You pleaded , the word falling from your lips just as easily as it had, many, many times before.

And just like before, you were met with Will's soft brown eyes filled with sympathy, ready to help. Ready—to be by your side.

He's slowly nodded climbing onto the couch, next to you. He wrapped an arm around you and you nestled into him, laying your head on his chest.

You found some comfort as he embraced you, talking you under his arm and encompassing you in his warmth.

Holding on to him, you hoped that he would take your pain away, just like he did when you were little.

***

Will woke up to an uncomfortable feeling of something —or someone— tugging at his shirt.

He slowly opened his eyes allowing them to adjust to the light as he felt another a tug at his side. He looked over to you, but your eyes were shut, brimming with tears, your arm laid across his chest.

You were holding on to Will , using him as a lifeline, grounding you from the pain.

You felt a hand squeezing your own, stopping you from gripping the fabric "Y/n?" You opened your eyes to look up at will who had tears of his own, staring at the state you were in "it's okay, I'm here, I'm right here"

He encircles you, tighter than before, whispering soothing assurances into your hair.

***

With Will's help, the pain slowly subsides, allowing you access to your thoughts again.

You step out of the shower, into the living room and your eyes widen seeing Jay and Will sitting at the kitchen counter.

You didn't even hear Jay come in, but right now taking in his hardened glare, you didn't dare ask.

You knew what was coming and you didn't fight. You couldn't.

"So apparently we're cheating on our midterms now, huh?" Jay's calm voice made shivers run down your spine, starting to take rapid breaths.

"And apparently, someone thinks it's ok to steal alcohol from my stash" He gritted, never breaking I contact with you. "Do you think that's how the world works Y/n? DO YOU? BECAUSE LAST TIME I CHECKED YOU'RE STILL A FUCKING TEENAGER!!" He spat, his thoughts fuming towards your trembling body.

It was every dieing body flashing before his eyes, as the past months' agony slipped off his tongue.

"Jay" Will's voice was stern, giving a knowing look towards his younger brother and didn't bother to give Jay time to argue with him.

"Y/n, we need to know what's going on"

"With school, with tests with....... everything" he stated giving you a solemn look meaning every word he said, promising himself that he would do whatever it takes to figure out what had been going on.

You sucked in a breath weighing all your options. You didn't want them to think that you needed a babysitter or that you couldn't take care of yourself.

You knew that they had their own problems to worry about but you couldn't take it anymore.

You hated it.

The feeling of your lungs collapsing, struggling to find air for your body, your stress skyrocketing anytime you sat down to study, never getting any thing done.

All day long you would constantly tell yourself to do your work. Every spare second is spent in making a list of things you want to do but when it was time to actually do those things, your mind wandered and emptied.

You took another deep breath, looking up from your feet, your eyes meeting your brothers.

You spilled the past months events from how alone you were all the time and not being able to concentrate to how you ended up drunk at school and cheating on your midterms.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you your hands trembled. You stood crying in the middle of the room until you felt a pair of arms around you.

Will placed his hand at the nape of your neck as he stroked your back with the other "Breathe Y/n, just Breathe" He slowly pulled away leading you to the couch.

God, how he wished he could turn back time. Then he'd been more vigilant to notice the changes that had come over you.

You felt the couch dip on both sides but you intently studied your fingers, fumbling with the hem of your shirt and wiped the tears off your face. They were mad. No, they were furious. You knew it.

But for some reason, they weren't showing it. Maybe they were waiting-

"We're not mad"

You without your head around to look at Jay, furrowing your eyebrows in disbelief. Jay? Not mad? HA.

"but I am disappointed though, but that's only because you didn't tell us......

but stealing alcohol was bad too" he added, earning him a glare from Will.

"Y/n, what Jay means is— we could've helped with school . Homework . Tests . Anything, you name it. We will help" he assured, "But how do we know you need help, if you don't tell us?"

You sighed, taking in the weird turn of events that had happened before you. You had wasted all this time, trying to figure out all your problems out, when the answer was right in front of you.

A mountain of guilt now sat on Jay's shoulders, weighing down on him, pushing him deeper into a wormhole of 'if's'.

Maybe if he'd just been a little more careful, this wouldn't have happened.

Maybe if he'd stop and listen to you once in a while, this wouldn't have happened.

While trying to save kids out on the street, he forgot to care for the kid at home. You were his sister, and yet, here you are in front of him, barely keeping yourself together.

But that would change. Right here. *Right now.*

"Y/n," Jay started "If you would have told us how alone and stressed you were feeling.....I would've taken some time off... Maybe we'd watch a movie or something. All you had to do was ask...... And we'll get you the help you need, y/n. You good with that?" he questioned, his anger and frustration dissipating.

You saw your brother, the workaholic detective, wanting to put his job aside, for you .

You were more important to him, than his job—You realized.

" Yea... Yeah, I am"

Will stood up and got another advil with another glass of water. "and maybe you wouldn't end up drunk and cheating on your test" he smirked, crouching in front of you.

"God, I didn't think it would hurt this bad. I am never drinking again!" you smiled , as you drowned the pill.

"See now that's what I like to hear!!" Jay exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you, squeezing you into his chest. You squirmed, trying to get out of his grip, laughing, when you were joined by Will.

You know what? Maybe, things are going to be okay? Ya know?

__________________________