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myherowritings · 4 years

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PART 3. ACCIDENTAL SUGAR DADDY?

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.4k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. happy new year y’all! :3 i hope you have a good 2021 and here is some flirty ceo!shouto for u to enjoy as we enter the new year hehe ;) thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

“I heard you dropped by this weekend,” you said as a greeting, a playful smile on your lips. “Looking for me?”

If the tips of his ears didn’t tinge pink, you would have guessed Shouto was completely unaffected by your words.

“Mn.” He drew his attention away from your gaze and pointedly adjusted his cufflinks. “Good morning to you too.”

You laughed, accepting you wouldn’t get anything out of your attempt at teasing. “Morning, Shouto. How was your weekend?”

The cafe was quite busy this hour, but Miyazaki took over the other register to alleviate the stress (though, what she really said was so you and pretty boy—who happened to be rich rich—could talk). Whatever the reason, you were glad for a small break whenever you could get it.

“You could say it was busy,” he replied, sounding a bit tired. For the first time since you met him, you actually noticed how exhausted he looked. You wanted to put cucumbers on his eyes and lay his head down on your lap to coax him to sleep. Nonetheless, he smiled softly at you. “And yours? I hope you were able to have time to rest and relax.”

You nodded. “I just slept a lot and caught up on the shows I missed throughout the week.”

“The real way a weekend should be spent.”

His voice was teasing but he didn’t sound mocking. Just...somewhat playful. There was something about his tone that made you want to hear it again.

“Something tells me you need a weekend away where you could just relax and do nothing,” you commented, tapping the back of your pen to your chin. “Do you not have any days off at work?”

He considered this. “Depends what you mean by day off.”

“If you have to ask that, that probably means you don’t have a day off, huh?” you said with a frown, holding your hand over your chest as you sighed dramatically. “You poor thing. Overworked and tired. Maybe I should steal you away one weekend and get you to just relax.”

You were only half-serious.

“Maybe you should,” agreed Shouto, sounding full-serious.

“Maybe I will,” you blurted before you could stop yourself. Maybe you could if you actually had his number… Then, feeling shameful you said, “But, ah, anyway, what can I get for you today? We actually have cheese danishes again!”

His face brightened. “You do? I’ll take five dozen.”

With a laugh you took down his order. You really weren’t sure where all these pastries were going when he bought it, but judging from his expression, you figured it must be somewhere good.

“And for your drink?”

“This time I’ll have a large green tea with almond milk, please.”

You nodded but tilted your head to the side in question. “No coffee with extra shots of espresso today?”

“I add too much sugar and creamer to my coffee,” he admitted sheepishly. “And with all the baked goods I’ve been eating I realized I may have had an excess amount of sweets lately.”

With an understanding laugh you patted his hand that was resting on the counter woefully. “I can definitely relate to that. If too many sweets are bad for you they shouldn’t have made it taste so good.”

Shouto glanced down at where your hands touched, an expression you couldn’t quite discern on his face. Averting your gaze, you quickly pulled your hand back. Was that inappropriate of you? Did he find it too pushy?

“Oh— Sorry about that,” you said, rubbing your elbow with your opposite hand. “Got a bit ahead of myself there.”

“No, it’s fine.” He blinked once. “I didn’t mind.”

Unsure if he meant anything by that and unsure if you were reading too much into things, you simply brushed the topic off and moved on to getting his order in telling him the price.

“Paying by card again, I’m assuming?” you asked before hitting the appropriate button on the screen.

“Correct.”

By now the sight of the sleek and pretty credit card was one you grew rather fond of as he scanned over the payment terminal and signed his name. Was it weird you wanted to examine his signature more closely? Shouto seemed like the type of person who would have a fancy signature that somehow looked like art.

As per routine, you told him his order would be ready for pick up at his right and, before he left the register, he thanked you and gave you another $100.

Did it feel any less strange than the first time he tipped you? Not really, no. But you still weren’t going to complain about a generous tip from a willing customer.

Before he left with his cheese danishes and cup of tea in hand, he stopped by next to you with a small smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You grinned back. “Can’t wait, Shouto!”

— ✩ —

This went on for a whole other week. By this point, he had given you over $1,000 in tip and you were starting to feel like you should give him something in return despite him assuring you he didn’t expect anything.

When you told your friends about the nice guy you met while you were working and they asked for the details, the first thing they said in response to your situation was, “Sugar daddy?”

Before they planted that thought into your head, you just took it as a rich businessman who hated the rich and believed in redistribution of wealth—you couldn’t complain about that. That made him even more appealing, if you must say. But once Kaminari and Ashido whispered those two words, you couldn’t help but see the comparisons.

You had no issues with sugar daddies or sugar babies; as long as they were two consenting adults, what did it matter to you? It just wasn’t something you were looking for at the time and you didn’t want Shouto to get the wrong impression or involve yourself in something you weren’t ready to.

As you commuted to work for your next morning shift, you told yourself today was the day you’d thank him one final time for the tips, but tell him you couldn’t accept anymore. You were sure he’d be understanding but you also hoped it wouldn’t deter him from coming to see you. That was the last thing you’d want.

“Mrs. Miyazaki,” you said between customers. “When Shouto comes in, do you think I can step away from the register to talk to him for a little? I promise it’ll be brief!”

She waved her hand dismissively. “That’s not a problem. Are you finally going to ask him out or something?”

You scratched the back of your neck. “Or something, yeah.”

Thankfully, by the time Shouto arrived today, it was later than he normally came, meaning rush hour was almost dying down.

“Good morning! Someone’s a little late today,” you teased. “Overslept?”

“I wish,” he sighed wistfully. “I had a meeting early this morning and it just ended. Didn’t have a chance to pick up some coffee or pastries beforehand.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope whoever was hosting the meeting at least provided you guys drinks and snacks!”

He paused. “He did, but… I just thought yours were better.”

Smiling at the compliment, you preened. “Well, I can’t say I’m not surprised. And I’m glad you were able to drop by still. Would’ve missed you too much otherwise.”

Again, you were only half-serious.

“Hm. I would’ve missed you too.”

And again, he seemed full-serious. Not that you minded.

After taking his order and watching him pay, you pulled him to the side, looking over at your boss so she knew what was going on. She gave you a brief nod as you turned your attention to Shouto.

A lapse of silence went by and he spoke up, “Did you have something you wanted to say?”

“Yeah, actually.” You wrung your fingers nervously, hoping you wouldn’t say anything to offend him since you knew his actions were coming from a kind place. “I just wanted to say… I’m not really looking for a sugar daddy right now.”

He blinked once. Then twice. “Pardon?”

You stared at him, unsure what to say.

“I— Sorry. I wasn’t… It’s not my intention to be a...sugar daddy either.” Shouto’s face flushed a bright pink that made your own cheeks warm up in response.

“But the—the money? I just… I guess I thought…” You winced.

So he wasn’t trying to pick up a sugar baby… Well, this was awkward. But regardless, you think you’ve gotten close enough to him to the point where it would feel weird accepting money from him.

“I’m sorry if I was unclear. It really is just a tip to show appreciation for your service here.”

You shook your head. “No! Sorry, that makes sense! My friends just said… And then I…” you trailed off, feeling a million times more flustered than when you started. “Sorry about that. The sugar daddy mishap aside, I still wanted to say that I really appreciate the tips you gave, but I don’t think I can accept them anymore.”

Slowly, he nodded, adjusting the collar of his dress shirt. “I understand. Did something happen?”

“No, nothing happened!” you were quick to assure. “I really am thankful, but… I think we’ve gotten too close for me to be comfortable accepting that much money, you know?”

Shouto tilted his head to the side, listening intently.

“Like,” you tried to explain, fiddling with your apron, “over the past few weeks I just think we’ve gotten to know each other more and I think of you as a friend of sorts now.” You peered at him through your lashes, hoping your words were making sense. “I think as a relationship develops—for me, at least—adding money into the mix can cause weird power imbalances if not communicated properly. And I just don’t want that for us.”

He thought through your words for a while before agreeing. “I get what you mean. I wouldn’t want to unintentionally make you feel like you owe me anything, so if you’re not comfortable with it, I can stop.”

“Thanks, Shouto,” you said with a beam, glad he was so receptive. Really though, what else did you expect? From your interactions with him you took him to be kindhearted and open. Of course he wouldn’t be upset over this. “But just to be clear, this doesn’t mean you should stop coming! Right? I don’t want to stop being your friend or anything!”

With a small laugh, he nodded. “Sure. I wouldn’t want to part with my favorite cafe. And I’d like to keep being friends as well.”

Those words warmed your heart. You really were nervous about this confrontation earlier; you didn’t want voicing your opinion to mean ending your friendship. (Although, if you sharing what you were comfortable with was enough to end a relationship, then you supposed it was bound to be a toxic and stifling one in the long run and it was good to know in the beginning to end it before it could grow.) Turns out, however, that you didn’t even need to worry about that. He was understanding and sweet and you were glad to have gotten this out of the way.

“Well, as new friends,” you said, gently nudging his side, “maybe we should get to know each other more? Exchange numbers… Hang out outside of this cafe…” You ran through some suggestions, almost bouncing on your feet in excitement. “I mean, I know you’re always so busy and might not have much free time to hang out. But— If you’re ever free one weekend…”

“I’d enjoy that,” he cut in, saving you from blabbering your mouth off and accidentally embarrassing yourself. “Didn’t you say you’d steal me away from work to relax? I’m still holding you to that.”

The beginnings of a smirk formed on his face as he looked at your flustered expression. Was he teasing you?

You huffed, pretending to be insulted by his playful mocking. “Guess I’ll really have to do it then.”

“Guess so.”

“Maybe you should give me your number first so we could plan it.”

“Okay.”

He handed you his phone and you handed him yours, both of your adding your numbers to the contact list. Smiling, you held the phone in front of the two of you to take a contact picture of yourself for Shouto’s phone. To your complete surprise, he laughed before promptly following suit and taking a selfie for his contact image.

“Cute,” you said when he handed you back your phone.

“You too.”

Placing your device back in your pocket, you looked at him, hand on hip. “Since when did you become such a smooth-talker? Am I going to have to guard my heart now?”

His only response was a shrug, but you could see hints of a smile playing on his face. The two of you seemed to be smiling a lot lately, you couldn’t help but notice.

“I should probably let you go to work now—and I should go back to mine.” You gestured to the growing line at the front of the store. Your manager looked like she had things under control, but you didn’t want to take advantage of her kindness. “You should text me later though. If you want.”

“I’ll do that,” Shouto promised, picking up his drink and pastry boxes from the side counter. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. And… I’ll message you soon.”

As you watched him leave the store, you were certain you had a silly look on your face as you stared in a trance.

“I’ll turn my phone off silent just for you!” you said to his back, hoping he understood what a momentous occasion this was. Your phone was always on silent (unless you were playing a game, of course). But for Shouto, you could handle hearing the obnoxious ringtone and text tone.

With an amused expression he nodded before waving goodbye.

Later on that day, at the end of your shift, you noticed a new message from a certain someone that made your stomach flutter.

Shouto: Hi there. It’s Shouto :)

You never knew those four simple words would be enough to keep the grin plastered on your face up until the moment your head hit your pillow to fall asleep. But, damn— Were you glad that happened to be the case.

a/n: whY WAS SHOUTO AND Y/N EXCHANGING NUMBERS SO CUTE idk that scene got me all blushy and :DDD HFJDKSF like taking a selfie with shouto and getting his number? only goal in life BFHFGF,, also y/n said no more tips how we feeling? ;o

what to expect in the next part:

an unwanted visitor ಥ_ಥ

shouto has a...proposition for y/n

FLIRTING FLUFF SO MUCH CUTENESS U MIGHT CRY

y/n struggles with their fEeLiNGs~

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havenoffandoms · 3 years

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72 for Geralt/Jaskier?

I meant to post this a lot earlier... sorry about the wait, nonnie. I hope you like it anyway. I'm not sure how it came out in the end after I agonised over this for the past couple of days, but it was fun going back to my Geraskier roots.

Masterlist

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier

Prompt 72: Character A has a secret. Character B does whatever they can to find out what it is. When they find out, they wish they hadn't.

Warnings: brief angsty episode, mention of Geralt's traumatic childhood

Also, I love that art! Holy Shit!? So of course this had to feature before the fic <3

Travelling with Jaskier had its downfalls.

For one, the bard talks a lot. He never stops, not even in his sleep, and that would drive any man insane if you ask Geralt. He listens to Jaskier waffling about poetry all day, every day, he doesn’t have to endure a lecture on the benefits of iambic pentameters when he’s trying to fall asleep, thank you very much. Jaskier also likes to complain about every little thing that causes him discomfort, which when they’re on the path, ranges from fly bites all the way to sore feet. Travelling with a human also means that they travel considerably slower, unless they’re both riding on top of Roach, but Geralt doesn’t like putting his best girl under that kind of strain very often.

For all of Jaskier’s flaws, Geralt would hate to have to separate from his bard. At least, when Jaskier is close by, Geralt can keep an eye on him and make sure Jaskier doesn’t get himself into any unnecessary trouble. Having Jaskier travel with him gives Geralt peace of mind. He appreciates the singing as well, even if he could stand to tell Jaskier this a bit more often. Geralt deems that his bard’s ego is plenty inflated without Geralt making it worse. Not to mention that life always seems a little bit brighter when Jaskier is around, and the nights are a little less lonely as Geralt gets to pull his bard close and fall asleep to the sound of his beating heart. Knowing that Jaskier is safe is the only thing that lets Geralt sleep peacefully at night.

You’d think that after nearly two decades of knowing his bard, Geralt would have figured out Jaskier’s secret by now. Geralt is, of course, referring to Jaskier’s near supernatural ability to always come up with coin when he and Geralt need it most urgently. Geralt has no idea how the bard does it - his songs are popular, granted, and on a good night Jaskier makes enough to buy a nice room for the night and the better pieces of meat from the kitchen. Still, being a bard doesn’t pay that well, not even if you were as famous as Jaskier. Just last week, Geralt’s horse and most of his belonging were stolen by bandits, leaving Geralt travelling on foot and too poor to afford to buy a new horse. Two days later, Jaskier came trotting up to their camp atop a gorgeous mare, looking mighty pleased with himself but refusing to tell Geralt how he managed to afford to pay for the horse.

“Would you believe me if I told you I stole her, Geralt, my dear?”

“Not in a million years,” Geralt admitted deadpan, pulling an offended squawk from his songbird.

“Just because I’m a bard you don’t think I can steal a horse?”

“I don’t think you could ever steal a horse because you’re as stealthy as the proverbial bull in the porcelain shop.”

It’s not just the horse, though. Geralt’s armour needed replacing and good armour doesn’’t come cheaply. Geralt doesn’t hire the services of just any blacksmith or armourer to craft his weapons and protective gear. He has his regular suppliers, the ones he always goes back to because he knows that their work is reliable and of the highest quality. And even though these people know Geralt by now, even offer him a friends and family discount on occasion, their wares still come at a hefty price. Geralt, as it turns out, didn’t have the coin to replace his armour for a few months. He desperately needed new boots, though. A new pair of breeches wouldn’t hurt either, and his silver sword broke in half whilst fighting a particularly vicious griffin a few weeks back.

Geralt didn’t even mention all of this to Jaskier. That didn’t stop the bard from going ahead and commissioning a brand new suit of armour, new silver and steel swords, as well as a few casual clothes for Geralt to wear on the warmer summer days. All of this must have cost an arm, a leg and a fucking lung, and yet Jaskier acted like he didn’t just break the bank all for Geralt’s benefit. He didn’t even get anything for himself and that realisation had Geralt feeling slightly embarrassed about the gesture.

“You don’t have to buy me all this stuff, Jask.”

“I know that, dearest,” Jaskier assured him, eyes soft and an easy smile playing on his lips, “but I wanted to. Only the best for you, my sweet witcher.”

The mystery of where Jaskier managed to find the coin to pay for all this remains unsolved, despite Geralt’s questioning. Well, if Jaskier won’t outright tell him, then Geralt will just have to investigate the matter by himself.

"Where the fuck did you get your hand on all the coin to pay for all this?" Geralt asks one evening, blunt and straight to the point. There was probably a kinder and gentler way to ask this, but after spending weeks mulling over Jaskier's sudden new-found fortune, Geralt has lost the little patience he possessed in the matter. Jaskier, on the other hand, looks perfectly unperturbed.

"From the bank," he offers simply as he sprinkles expensive herbs over the hare Geralt caught earlier that evening, "you know, where people deposit their valuables? I know you witchers don't believe in bank accounts, savings and interests, but-"

"Where does the coin come from?" Geralt interrupts, hissing those words through clenched teeth.

"Why, my inheritance."

Geralt stares for a long while. It takes his brain several seconds to catch up to what Jaskier is telling him, and another few seconds to make sense of the words. Inheritance?

"What inheritance?"

"Well, when my father passed away he left me and my siblings a share of his wealth. That's how inheritance works. Say, pass me my satchel my dear, I think I have some more spices in there."

Geralt wordlessly hands Jaskier his satchel, still trying to process this new discovery. Come to think of it, Geralt knows precious little about Jaskier's family. Sure, that's probably on him for never asking, but Geralt has grown so used to Jaskier oversharing every aspect of his life that he never needed to ask his bard anything. Jaskier just… never talked about his family. Or his childhood, or his upbringing. His life story seems to always begin when he was a student at Oxenfurt.

Geralt is growing curiouser by the minute.

"When did your father pass?"

"Oh? Uh… good question. Maybe a few years after I went to Oxenfurt? I'm not sure. I received a letter from the bank notifying me that a share of my father's wealth was deposited in my account."

Geralt frowns. "You never went back to find out what happened?"

"No."

Well, that's an oddly abrupt response, and Jaskier doesn't seem like he's got anything to say on the matter. Which only makes Geralt feel more curious about the whole thing.

"Why not?"

"Geralt…" Jaskier heaves a sigh before putting on a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, too tense to be genuine. "My father and I didn't get along. I felt no need to go mourn him with the rest of my noble family in Lettenhove when he passed. That's it. That's all there's to it. I was not a good enough man to refuse my share of the inheritance, either, despite my non-existent relationship with him."

That's a lot to unpack. Geralt always assumed that Jaskier had a good childhood. Then again, he would think that, wouldn't he, considering Geralt spent his own childhood being tortured by magnanimous and sadistic mages. Where most children got to spend time outside helping out in the fields or playing with their friends, Geralt was put through drill after drill, after drill… until he was physically unable to walk so much his muscles hurt.

"Wait… did you say your noble family?"

"Hm?"

"In Lettenhove… there's nothing in Lettenhove. Only the Viscount and his family live there on a large esta-" Geralt's mouth clicks shut as realisation dawns on him. "Your father was the Viscount of Lettenhove?"

"Yes. And since I'm the oldest, after he died that title passed onto me. But I much prefer being a bard, so I graciously devolved my duties to my younger brother, who now manages the estate. Are we done with this conversation?"

"I didn't mean to make you mad…"

Geralt watches Jaskier stop dead in his tracks, his shoulders briefly tensing at those words, before exhaling loudly through his nose. Jaskier anxiously rubs the back of his neck as he straightens up and offers Geralt a sheepish smile, that one warmer and softer than the previous one.

"Sorry, dear heart. I didn't mean to be so short with you. It's just… well, there's a reason I don't bring up my family all that much."

"Hm." Geralt gently taps the spot next to him on his bedroll, and Jaskier doesn't have to be told twice. Soon, Geralt has one arm wound tightly around Jaskier's shoulders. Not quite a hug, but the intention is there all the same, and Jaskier eagerly melts in the embrace. "I shouldn't have insisted. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. You did nothing wrong." Jaskier nuzzles the crook of Geralt's neck sweetly before depositing a featherlight kiss just over his pulse point. "Do you want to ask me anything?"

Geralt ponders over that question far too long before whispering an answer in the air pocket between them.

"Did he hurt you?"

Jaskier hesitates.

"Not physically, no. He didn't approve of my aspirations and choices. He didn't support me. I suppose it hurt a little when he didn't see me away to Oxenfurt at the age of 15, but he never raised a hand on me."

"Hm." Good, Geralt thinks. No child should ever have to suffer at the hand of an adult. Geralt earned plenty a beating at Kaer Morhen, some justified and others not so much. Just because he went through this doesn't mean he condones it.

"At least I get to spend his money on someone I love," Jaskier offers softly, eyes as blue as the deepest ocean glancing up at Geralt through dark lashes, “That, at least, the old man can’t take away from me.”

A happy little rumble bubbles up Geralt's chest, despite the blush gracing his cheeks.

"I never thanked you for the gifts." Geralt blushes a deeper shade of red at the realisation. "Sorry. It's been a long year."

"Well, good thing we're heading North soon then, hm?" Jaskier straightens up so he can cradle Geralt's face in his lute-calloused hands. Their eyes meet then, amber seeking out blue, and Geralt thinks that he must be the luckiest son of a bitch in all the Continent.

"Yes," he agrees in a whisper, tilting his face to place a kiss on the inside of Jaskier's wrist, "good thing, indeed."

Request a prompt

#havenwrites #the witcher #wiedzmin #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #the witcher geralt #geralt #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #dandelion #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt/jaskier #jaskier/geralt #dandelion x geralt #geralt/dandelion #request open

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dancingamongstdust · 3 years

Text

MHA Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 4)

Requests are still open as of this post.

Shigaraki

You hadn’t meant to cause that level of destruction. It was an accident.

But they hadn’t seen it that way.

Their words followed you even when they could not. You could hear the accusations ringing in your head whenever you used your quirk – for better, or for worse. It became easier to ignore as you slowly learned to stop caring.

Until your quirk went out of control again.

You woke up in a dark room with a pounding headache and exhausted limbs. The doctor who was looking after you (a man you were relatively certain had no actual medical knowledge) had gotten very close and asked how much you remembered. When you informed him that it wasn’t much, he had smiled.

“Well, you certainly drew attention to yourself,” he had laughed. “Perhaps you should consider yourself lucky that the heroes didn’t get to you first.”

“I guess so…”

Something warned you that this situation was more dangerous than it seemed. Your eyes drifted over the covered windows of the room and you stared at the door. “Why did you help me?”

“Well that’s hardly for me –“

He didn’t get a chance to answer before you dashed for the exit. The doctor’s quirk didn’t allow him to grab you and his alarmed shout was all you heard before you were darting down the hallway. You weren’t going to stick around and get experimented on.

You turned the corner, heart pounding in your chest. They must have given you something because you felt drowsy. The entire world was spinning.

But you had to nearly trip yourself up to avoid running directly into somebody as you sprinted down a different hallway.

This was hardly your first time dealing with villains and many of them had odd quirks, to say the least. It shouldn’t have shocked you to see somebody with a human hand on their face but maybe the medication was lowering your tolerance because it was terrifying.

“Who are you?” you snapped out, immediately on the defense. You took a step away, ready to run or fight, whichever seemed easiest.

The man didn’t seem too bothered by your snap at least; the one eye that you could see watched you steadily from behind his hand mask. “I’m sure you’re not meant to be running around here,” he said. “But you’re no hero so you must be here for your quirk. Do you still have it?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

It wasn’t unknown in the underground that there was a man who stole quirks he liked. Nobody knew what he did with them but it wasn’t unheard of for villains to wake up with nothing. And you would never get them back.

You could feel your quirk was still there. It pulsed under your skin like a warning.

“My quirk?” you repeated. “I have my quirk.”

You did a random gesture, summoning all of your past acting experience to appear horrified when nothing happened. Again and again you tried before looking around in shock and horror.

The guy bought it and he shrugged. “Then there’s no reason to stop you.” He brushed past you and continued walking. “Not like you could find the exit anyway.”

The moment he turned the corner, you dropped the act and bolted again. This place was a maze but you found the exit and avoided any encounters with a practiced ease. Before leaving, you looked back up at the building and grimaced, hoping to never see it again.

Toga

It was late at night when you had the strangest encounter of your life. Not that that was a bad thing necessarily but it was something that occurred, nevertheless.

You had been feeling quite exhausted from a long day of fun with your friends. They had headed off to get a cab when you had realised that you needed the bathroom and disappeared to go find one.

There was a public toilet not too far from the street though it certainly wasn’t as clean as you would have hoped. Not to be deterred, you slipped in and found a sight that, even to your exhausted mind was uncomfortable.

A girl stood in front of one of the mirrors, blood staining much of her face. It covered the counter beneath her fingers and seemed to be coming from her lip.

“Are you okay?!” you asked, panicked.

She looked up at you, startled. Her dark hair covered much of her expression but she seemed a little out of it. Maybe she got hit on the head or something.

“I –“ she paused, her voice croaky and sore. She brought her hand up to rub her throat. “I think so.”

“Just wait, let me help you,” you said. You rushed into one of the stalls and gathered up some toilet paper. “Do you need me to call somebody or?”

“No,” she said quickly. “No. Thank you.”

You offered some of the damp tissue to her and she started wiping it away from her mouth. While she dealt with that, you cleaned the blood that she had left on the counter, making sure to get it out of all the cracks in and around the sink. “What happened to you?” you asked. “Did somebody attack you?”

“I slipped,” she said. “The tiles are really slippery and I think that I hit my mouth on the sink. It’s all kind of blurry.”

“Don’t worry,” you said, digging through your bag and grabbing some headache tablets. You offered the bottle to her. “Take two of those just in case. Even if it doesn’t hurt now, you don’t want to wake up with a headache tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Do I still have any blood on me?”

“Just on your jaw,” you pointed out. “Come on, my friends and I are getting a cab. We can call one for you also if you need.”

She took one last glance in the mirror before leaving. You had forgotten your own need for the bathroom and it was for good reason also. If you had hung around for a little longer, you may have seen blood trickling out from one of the stalls. Perhaps then you wouldn’t have been so worried about this stranger hitting her head.

“What’s your name?” you asked as you looked around for your friends.

“Toga,” the girl said, though she didn’t seem too happy with having told you. The words must have slipped out without her meaning to.

You gave her your own name and went up onto your toes to look around the crowd for your friends. Eventually you spotted them and waved but when you spoke to Toga, she didn’t respond.

She had disappeared into the crowd.

You went back into the bathroom and checked but she was long gone. Just like how the blood has escaped your notice earlier, you didn’t see the blonde watching you from the other side of the street, her head tilted a little.

Dabi

It was a rare day when you found yourself alone without at least one person to watch your back. You didn’t always need the protection but sometimes, it was nice to have.

But you had given your word and it wouldn’t do to back out of this now.

The building where everything had been organised was old and crumbling – its ancient nature hidden on the outskirts of the city and slowly becoming overtaken by countless plants. It wasn’t somewhere anybody with good intentions would find themselves.

You liked to think that your work was good. It benefitted many and took only from those who could afford to lose it. Unfortunately though, rules had to be broken for the best results, and sometimes what was classified as ‘wrong’ turned out to be needed in order to achieve a goal. It wasn’t quite in line with what you believed but it had to be done.

Did working with villains make you uncomfortable? Of course. But it was hardly going to be something that stopped you from moving forward.

The two members from the League of Villains that had been sent to meet you were both men. You didn’t bother with greetings, just holding up the briefcase that you held.

“I’m looking for a specific artwork,” you said. “I’ve been told that you might be able to help?”

“An artwork?” the one asked. He wore a white and black mask that concealed most of his face and an extremely gaudy costume.

“Not just an artwork,” you explained. “It has something of mine hidden in the canvas. Normally, I would just get the police involved but if they found it, it would be quite problematic for me. The group that stole it won’t listen to many but the League of Villains, I’m afraid. They have a few good quirks and they’re extremely cocky for it.”

“We’re not lapdogs,” the other man said. “Especially not for whatever agenda you’re pushing.”

“I don’t pay lapdogs,” you acknowledged. “Consider me a sponsor.”

Flames cackled into existence in his hand, surprising his colleague enough to jump a little. “Chances are, they’ve already found your thing. Even if they haven’t, the league can hardly go around picking fights with random gangs.”

“Shigaraki did ask –“

The masked man was cut off by a glare. Blue flames sent flickering light through the air as they waited patiently for your answer.

“If it’s already been discovered or if it happens to get damaged during the process, then I don’t plan on getting anything out of our deal. It’ll simply be a loss on my side.”

The flames slowly flickered out and you allowed yourself to breathe again. Confidence was a requirement for these deals but you didn’t quite have the nerves of steel that you portrayed. It was always a fight to keep your reactions in check.

“I guess if we happen to bump into the group, we can check around for your shit.”

You knew his bluff as well as your own. The League of Villains had always worked well with those who had money. They required funding and wouldn’t say no to being able to flex their reputation around the underground. It was almost needed with the way rumours were circulating.

It was less than a week after that encounter when you found your artwork sitting outside your home. Charred on the edges, it was damaged enough to make the art itself worthless. But your items inside were perfectly unharmed.

Not bad for your first time working alongside the League of Villains. It was worth the cost… you should do it more in the future.

Twice

When you had been called in for this job, you had no idea that it was going to turn into a fight of the magnitude you experienced.

Flames tore along the streets. They melted lamps and trapped hundreds inside buildings – the screams for help becoming almost deafening as you broke down yet another wall to get civilians out. It was the third building you had had to smash into and there were more yet.

Nobody could get out and, if they remained trapped, they wouldn’t survive much longer.

When your partner and you had realised you were dealing with the League of Villains, you had immediately called in the big guns. What you hadn’t realised was that doing so would result in a brawl of sorts in the streets. The League of Villains didn’t care about collateral and honestly, sometimes you wondered if the heroes did.

You were starting to overheat. The amount of fire swirling around was getting to you, drawing the breath from your lungs and slowing your movements. Its angry blue nature hinted at its abysmal nature.

The next building’s walls took even longer to get through but you managed it and a few people scrambled out. You ushed as best as you could although it was starting to get hard to speak.

But then you noticed a dark figure lying in one of the rooms

Outside, the fire roared and smacked against the walls but you couldn’t just leave somebody there. You stepped over the rubble and made your way to the figure.

It was hard to make out details with the flames. The heat seemed to be getting worse as you approached – soon identified as being caused by the gaping hole in the wall. It radiated around the room in waves. You covered your mouth and nose the best you could, creeping forward to reach where the person was.

When you arrived, it took you no time to recognise that you weren’t saving an unfortunate civilian but rather a member of the League itself.

You hesitated for a second before hooking your arms under his and beginning to drag him away from the danger. This was the type of thing that lost reputation for heroes. Civilians didn’t like seeing villains being rescued but you honestly didn’t care.

If he was left there, he was probably going to end up dying.

Though he had seemed unconscious, when you got him out of the building, he muttered something and moved. It was enough to make you jump back but he didn’t attack or anything. He just touched his face and then let his arm go limp again.

You moved back cautiously. His suit had been ripped on the one side, missing its arm and half of the torso. You checked his pulse, relieved to feel that it was still going, even if it was unsteady.

“Can you hear me?” you asked.

He didn’t respond and you reached up to remove his mask. His hand immediately snapped up to grab your wrist and you prepared to activate your quirk but all he did was push your arm away from his face.

Alright then. No touching the mask.

You bandaged the open wound on his side as best as you could. It looked like he had gotten launched through the building. Once he was as stable as he could be, you moved him to a safer area and jumped back into the fray. A ton of rescues later and the heroes had won, at the destruction of much property.

And, rather unsurprisingly, the villain you had saved was long gone.

Overhaul

There was a new drug running around the market. You had heard of a number of small-time villains taking it – most of them dying shortly after consumption. It wasn’t unheard of. If something had even the promise of a good time then it would attract thousands.

But what was a problem was that you had lost several of your newest underlings as a direct result of this drug.

Given how picky you were about hiring, this was going to be a problem.

You tracked the source to none other than the Shie Hassaikai. They were an old branch of the yakuza, sitting on the edge of a downward spiral into irrelevance. Rumors followed that their boss had fallen quite ill and now, it was only a matter of time until they fell completely on their faces.

So you didn’t feel too nervous when you approached the house that fronted their main base. Even with the members watching you from the bushes, you kept a straight line.

You weren’t unknown. It would do them a great disservice to attack you.

And they knew it.

You walked in the front door with absolutely no resistance and remained unsurprised when two masked men came out to greet you. They didn’t ask about your business or enquire as to who you were. Instead, they led you into a sitting room and gestured for you take a seat.

Instead of that, you walked around the room and picked up everything that looked interesting. Nothing was hidden around but you hadn’t expected there to be.

“Please don’t touch things without gloves on,” a smooth voice interrupted your curiosity. “Cleaning this entire house is rarely needed and I’d rather you didn’t change that.”

You turned around to find somebody considerably younger than you had expected for the head of the Shie Hassaikai. He wore their signature mask and a feathered coat, almost his entire body hidden in some way.

“Not a fan of germs?” you enquired.

“Not at all.”

You shrugged and made your way to the couch, sinking down into it. “Guess that means no drinks or anything? Oh well, that’s too bad.” You gestured for him to sit. “So, you’re not who I was expecting.”

“You’ve never worked with our organisation before,” he said, sitting on the edge of the chair opposite you.

“No. You’re not in the same line of work as me and I don’t care too much about the Yakuza.”

“Then why are you here?”

You straightened, aware that you were about to get into the most dangerous part of the meeting. “Your drugs have been getting into my areas. Now, I don’t care all too much about how you distribute stock but it’s not just coming into possession of low-life criminals. My men are getting practically gifted it.”

His eyes narrowed. “We need to test it somehow. Besides, that sounds like a problem for you, no? Have better control of your men.”

“Keep your test tube shit out of my territories.”

A small staring contest took place – a test to see who would break first. You had been in almost a hundred of these over the course of your career. They didn’t bother you much at all in anymore.

Eventually he waved his hand through the air. “I guess we could stop supply to traders in your areas but this isn’t a charity.”

“I could kill your men.”

“But you would lose your own in the process. Wouldn’t it be easier to do this the peaceful way and maybe even establish a relationship between our two groups?”

“You have my attention. Don’t waste it.”

Kurogiri

There are those days when everything begins so well only to rapidly spiral into a situation out of your worst dreams. This was something like that.

You had gotten horribly caught in the crossfire of a battle between heroes and villains. It all occurred faster than you could have ever imagined – flashes of light and explosions of sound. People were screaming, the sound coming through a haze as you tried to get a grasp on what had happened.

Blood was trickling down your arm but you felt no pain. You slowly lifted your head. Something had hit you, you remembered that now as your brain caught up to the dull ache coming from your ribcage.

You tried to move, finding that you couldn’t. The ache became worse and a heavy, scraping sound interrupted your attempts to crawl away.

It was a piece of concrete, heavy and painful, pinning you effectively to the ground. A smaller chunk was holding it up and stopping you from being crushed. But if you moved too much…

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, nearly choking on the dust that filled the air. Maybe if you shifted slowly.

A crunching noise made you hiccup.

Alright, so that wasn’t going to work either. You strained your eyes to see through the carnage but you couldn’t make out any heroes. They would come eventually; you just had to wait patiently and try not to move too much.

The concrete seemed to get heavier still and you fought the desire to cry.

There was a crunching sound. You couldn’t just wait around.

Slow as you dared, you began to inch forward. The rough surface snagged at your clothing and made every centimeter feel like it was going to end with you crushed. Worse still, the more you moved, the more apparent the injury on your back became.

The blood that had been trickling down your arm was now creeping along your torso. It pooled in your clothes and made everything sticky.

You tried not to think about it but it made you light-headed regardless.

About half-way out, you spotted somebody nearby. It was just their silhouette but still, relief flooded your veins and you cried out desperately for help.

The figure made its way over to you, soon revealing that the man was almost entirely made of smoke. He wore a suit and tie but his body swirled as though only somewhat solid. Bright yellow eyes stared at you – any emotion behind them was completely unreadable.

His eyes traced your shape. “You’re not who I’m looking for.”

“Please help me. This thing’s going to crush me.”

He paused, the swirling darkness that made up his face shuddered as though it was unsure how to respond. “I should leave you here,” he mentioned. “You’re of no consequence to me or to my cause. If anything, I should add pressure to the piece of rubble and make sure the fatality numbers are higher.”

You caught of whimper before it could escape. “Please.”

His smoke shook again, almost as though he was struggling to keep hold of it. Then he raised a foot and placed it on the concrete.

You screwed your eyes shut and tried to imagine the best parts of life.

A loud horn blaring made you open them again and a surprised yelp escaped as you saw tires race past in front of you. People were shouting, their voices loud and nearby. Bright lights surrounded you and the air was clear once more.

The last thing you remembered seeing was a panicked nurse rushing over to you.

#my hero academia #mha #bnha scenarios #bnha x reader #shigaraki x reader #dabi x reader #toga x reader #twice x reader #kurogiri x reader #overhaul x reader

125 notes · View notes

lunaekalenda · 3 years

Note

hi! i have a request about jean and reader that are internet friends who have never seen each other in a real life. they just chat somewhere using nicknames. one day they accidentally meet irl and jean invites reader on a date. later they text each other about this date and both feel jealous. they are just sooo confused, cause they like someone irl, then why they don't want their internet friend to find a s/o? and happy ending, please? i hope that you take good care of yourself, love u <3

omg sure! i just got heavily inspired about this, i hope you like it!! take care of yourself too, anon ! <3

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jean x reader

jkst is online

jkst is typing...

jkst: hi

Your phone rings at this last notification. You take your phone. The world-wide used avatar chat app sound comes with another message.

jkst: that sounded awkward lol

You unlock your phone and enter the chat, reading the two new messages. You type fast, a smile on your lips.

outofcoolnames: hey, Kir.

He told you his name was Kir. The first day you met, you received a little document with all the chat rules, in where you can't share your name, your city or pictures of you. It has to be safe for everyone. On the other side of the chat, Jean chuckles. He always does when he reads your username.

outofcoolnames: yeah like it sounded as if we were having a normal conversation.

outofcoolnames: what are you doing awake so early? it isn't noon yet lol go back to sleep.

Kir never, never messaged you before noon, and he always tells you he has been sleeping, so finding his message at 10 on the morning while you're working surprised you a lot. Fortunately, there isn't a lot of people on the book shop, so you can answer him calmly.

jkst: oh, you think you're funny? us adults have to wake up early for adult things. you'll never understand, child.

You don't know exactly his age, even when it is legal to share it on the chat, but you know he's on his early twenties. You raise a brow quietly. You tip fast while a couple enters the bookshop, with a little girl on their hands.

outofcoolnames: sure, geezer. now, if you let me, i have to work because i'm an adult.

You put your phone on your pocket, getting closer to the family. "How can I help you?"

The little girl tells you that she wants a "huge, no, enormous book about fairies with some dragons and a huge festival?"

You need almost an hour to let the girl decide between all the books you showed her. She finally decided for a illustrated book full of classic tales. You give it to her mother and, thanking the family, you open the door for them. When you close, looking at all the books you have to put back in the shelves, you hear an unpleasant sound followed by a deep moan. When you look at the crystal door, you can see a tall boy rubbing his forehead, his other hand on the door. You realize you hit him.

“Oh no, sorry, sorry.” you say, opening the door. He takes his honey eyes to you, his forehead a little red and his big hand rubbing the place where he got hurt. “Come in, please.” you say. You think you have a pomade inside.

“Yes, that was what I was trying to do, actually.” he jokes. You blush, you hit him and he’s literally joking about it.

“Please sit here.” You show him a little sofa you have for kids to read. He’s not sure his knees will enter on the little couch, so he says he doesn’t need to sit. You run to the back of the store, taking a pomade from the bathroom. “Here, put this. It should avoid a bump.” He thanks it and puts a little on his forehead. You look at him while he does it.

He has to take his light brown fringe out of his face to rub the pomade on his forehead. His hands are big, with bony and really long fingers that end on good-cared nails. His eyes are honey like color, and he has a mullet on the back of his head. He ends applying the pomade and takes his hand back down. He offers you the other.

“Jean Kirstein. Just in case you want to pay me a coffee.” You blush. After all, you hit him. Maybe you should invite him to drink something. Your half morning break starts now, so you take his hand.

“Y/N. And, casually, I have a break now. Where do you want to take a cup?”

···· ···· ···· ···· ···· ···· ···· ···· ···· ···· ···· ···· ···· ···· ···· ···· ···· ···· ···· ···· ···· ···· ···· ····

Jean opened the door this time and that made you laugh. He closed behind him and searches a free table with his tall body. He walks towards one.

“Sorry, I opened it, I still have war flashbacks.” You laugh and you both ask for your drinks. “So, Y/N, you should look more at doors.” you laugh.

“I know, I know. My bad, sorry.” you say. He shows a big smile.

He’s attractive, you can’t deny it. From his marked jaw to his smooth clavicle, seen through the open buttons of his shirt. Also, he has a really cute smile. He looks around, to all the people in the café. He smiles at you.

“So, you work on a book shop?”

Jean and you keep talking while you drink your coffees. He tells you he has been working on some art pieces lately. As you could suppose, he’s a painter.

“I wish I could live just by painting. I work on an office all afternoons.” He says. The smile on his face fades a bit when he talks about the office. You listen to him quietly, his face quietly changing when you ask him more about his paintings. The break passes fast and he decideds to give you his number.

"You know. That way you don't need to hit me on the face with a door." you laugh and blush again. Is he going to forget it?

"Please, don't tell anyone..." you ask. He nods and leaves, a huge smile on his face. You feel butterflies.

Does liking someone feel like this?

jkst: sorry, i disappeared today. i had a date.

You let the towel fall from your head while you read the message, the other towel around your body.

outofcoolnames: oh wow, a date.

You felt uncomfortable. Kir had a date. But well, you don’t know him. He has to search someone to date, after all.

jkst: jealous? :P

outofcoolnames: nah. i also got one.

Now is Jean the one looking at his phone with frown brows. He has no shirt on and he’s lying on his bed. He sits to read that message twice. You look at the paper with Jean's telephone number. Should you call him today? maybe tomorrow? or maybe send a message to let him know your number.

outofcoolnames: i think that silence means you’re jealous :D

Jean doesn’t know why, but he is. Damn, of course he is. He shouldn’t because you’re just internet friends, you didn’t saw each other. He doesn’t know how you look, what personality you have or if you’re even on the same country as him!

jkst is typing...

jkst is online

jkst is typing...

jkst is online

jkst - last connection, now

You look at it. Has he just left? The hell? What is wrong with this guy? You let out a sigh and change to the other app. You introduce Jean's number and search him on the list, your lip between your teeth. You find him. His profile picture is a cute selfie of himself and a little cat. You message him.

y/n: hey, i'm y/n. this is my number if you want to adress it.

His answer comes in seconds.

Jean: oh, the door friend. cool, adding you.

That way of jocking, that way of tyiping. Why does it remember you to Kir? You shake your head. It doesn't. It's just that Kir left unexpectedly.

y/n: yeah i'm sorry, i hit you with the door. should we see each other another time?

Jean: sure. why not tomorrow? when's your break?

Wow, tomorrow. The guy is fast as hell. You check the other app, but Kir isn't online. You send him a quick message.

outofcoolnames: hi?

Again, no response, no connection. You go back to the other chat quickly. You answer that your break is tomorrow at 11:30, as it was today.

Jean: i'll make the effort to wake up that early. see you tomorrow.

y/n: bye :D

You go to sleep, but you check the other app a couple times.

On the next street, lying on his bed, Jean checks it too.

"Good morning, y/n" he says when you enter the café. You search Jean. He's playing with his phone, moving it between his hands. You take a seat in front of him. You put yours on the table, side up. He does the same and you order some coffee. As the other day, you talk casually about a lot of things.

"Jean!" you hear a boy calling him. Jean looks around and finds the owner of the voice. He's a tall man, with a bun. Holding his hand, a black-haired girl smiles at Jean.

"Wow, Eren and Mikasa, the happy married couple!" Jean looks at you. "Could you excuse me for a moment? I promise I'll be back as fast as I can." He winks at you and gets up. You take your phone from near his. You enter the app. Kir has entered before, but he didn't answer you. You sigh and type.

outofcoolnames: look, kir, i... i was joking. i really like this guy and i think he also likes me but... when i'm here... i think about you. it is dumb because i don't know you. but i do. please, come back.

When you hit the send button, Jean's phone illuminates and sounds. The same sound your app has.

Wait a damn minute. Why did his app sound when you sent the message?

It has to be a coincidence. You debate between trying again and leaving it, but one more message isn't going to be a catastrophe. You tip again.

outofcoolnames: kir?

Again, his phone illuminates and sounds. Does that mean he is Kir?

You look behind you. Jean keeps talking with the couple. He said his last name before, it was something with a K, right? K, K, K....

Kirstein. Kirstein, right? He's not called Kir. It is a part of his surname. You enter fast his user. jkst. Jean Kirstein. Jean Fucking Kirstein. You look at him again. That's why his way of texting reminds you of him. That's why you think of Kir when Jean talks. Because it's the same person.

You like Kir. You like Jean. You like the two versions of the same person. Jean comes back quickly and he sits. He takes his phone. "Oh, did it sound?" he asks. But you can only look at him. You look at his hazel eyes. The eyes you wanted to see for so long, the lips you wanted to meet. They are all there. Kir is there.

"Do you use... ChatApp?" you ask, with quite voice. Jean smiles, blushed.

"I... I do.. I've met a person there. We chat often. Their username is really cool."

"The username is literally outofcoolnames." you reply.

"Yeah, but it gives like... What?" he looks at his phone. "Did you read my messages?"

You take your phone from under the table, the chat with jkst opened.

"No. I wrote them."

Jean looks at your phone. That's his ChatApp account. That's your ChatApp account. That is your chat. His head was a mess. He liked two people. But you're both of them? Is this fortune?

"You... You don't know how much I wanted to meet you." he sighs. He admires every single detail of your face. They all are like in your descriptions. He has been so blind.

"I also wanted to meet you. But Jean appeared before Kir. I liked Kir, but I assumed he had his partner, and you looked really interested..." you whisper.

"Do you believe in destiny?" he asks. He takes his phone to the table again. You shake your head. "Then, how do you explain that I fell in love with the same person twice?" he says. "Not once. Twice. With your personality through a screen, and with you all in your book store. This are signals. We belong together." you look at him. That's Jean, but he's also Kir. Your Kir.

The boy that made you feel so much through a simple screen. The one that is smiling at you now. Looking at you with sweet and hazel eyes. He uninstalls the app in front of your asking eyes.

"We don't need this anymore. Now we are face to face. And I hope it is for a long time."

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jenonctcity · 4 years

Text

Art Of Innocence

The Virgin Series – Huang Renjun

Part of ‘The Virgin Diaries’ Series

Virgin!Au, University!Au, Bestfriend-Lovers!Au

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst.

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Very brief mentions of drug and alcohol, Loss of virginity.

Word Count: 11.8k

Summary: Art and gaming. That’s all Renjun found himself doing. Of course he spent time with his friends, but he had to be dragged away from his games console or easel first. Renjun had been brought up around art, his mother being an artist and his father being a drama teacher. So it wasn’t a shock to anyone when he decided to study art at university. His quiet, shy, nerdy nature meant that he didn’t get much attention when walking around campus, which is just how he liked it. You however, had found him on your first day of university and had stuck to him like glue. He pretended as if you didn’t mean that much to him, but you and him both knew he would be lost without you. Only, you didn’t know he was a virgin. So after you found out about the pact from one of the other boys, you couldn’t wait to intercept his gaming session and quiz him on his innocence. You couldn’t help it, but you suddenly saw him in a different light, one that had your fingers tingling and stomach flipping. The same way Renjun had felt looking at you since the first day he’d met you.

---

Meeting Renjun had been noteworthy. It isn’t every day that you find yourself a best friend upon your first meeting with someone, but with Renjun it had come very naturally. It had started when you’d tripped over the tiniest stick in existence, which you still have no idea how you did that, and had fallen straight into Renjun. It was very cliché, which is the exact reason you picked him to be your new best friend. He had been more than surprised when a beautiful girl he’d never met before flew into his arms and had face planted straight into his chest. After he’d gotten over his initial shock and had straightened you up onto your feet, he’d accepted the bumble of apologies that came flying out of your mouth and was ready to move on with his life. What he didn’t expect was for you to notice the Moomin keyring on his backpack and to spark up a conversation about it that seemed like it went on forever, with you repeating yourself and him just listening. Before he knew it, the two of you had walked around campus twice and he’d found out that your name is (Y/N) and you have a tendency to ramble on about random crap. But he liked to listen to your random crap, and he could see the beautiful friendship blossoming before his eyes.

So you and Renjun soon became close. You learnt his class schedule and forced him to learn yours, so that it was easier for the two of you to spend time together. At first, you had a feeling Renjun wasn’t overly keen on being your friend, but after a little while you just realised he had an attitude where he pretended he didn’t care about anything, since he would start waiting outside of your classroom for you to finish when you hadn’t even made plans with him. With Renjun, came his best friends. Jaemin, Jeno, and Donghyuck. You got on really well with them, but you only saw them when you went over to their shared apartment to see Renjun, or if they invited you to go to the classic American style diner down the road from their apartment. You also learnt a lot about his past. He was born in China but after his father got a job in Korea, they moved over when Renjun was eleven and they’d been there ever since. When you’d heard that his mother was a freelance artist and his father was a drama teacher, it made sense to you. Renjun was studying art and had a natural talent you can only assume was passed onto him from his parents.

You couldn’t even count the amount of times on both of your hands that Renjun had drawn you little pictures of random things. He was very generous with his art and even though you’d never asked him or expected him to draw or paint you anything, he loved to surprise you with a small painting of flowers or a sketch he’d done of you based purely off of his memory of your details and features. His art was hugely impressive, his people skills on the other hand, not so much. He was quiet, and he kept to himself, only spending time with you, or the boys. The more you got to know Renjun, the more you were surprised that he even let you cling to him like you did, but you never once thought that it could be because he formed a crush on you. From the moment that Renjun had laid eyes on you when you bumped into him, he had felt his heart jump on a rocket ship and take flight. He was so smitten for you, but he didn’t want you to notice, so he hid it well and preferred to show his affection towards you in subtle ways, like paying for your lunch, walking you back to your dorm, or drawing you a silly picture of a worm. Even after a year and a half of Renjun feeling that way, you however, had never really thought of Renjun in any other way other than platonic. Of course you thought he was beautiful; he was one of the most beautiful males you’d ever laid eyes on. He had deep brown eyes that sparkled in the sunlight, a cute little nose and a smile that made you want to pinch his cheeks and coo at him. Which the one time you did, his cheeks went so red that he whined for about half an hour that he was embarrassed.

You were more than happy that the apartment the boys lived in wasn’t too far from campus, it was only a ten minute walk if you picked up the pace and you could stop off at the convenience store on the way to buy snacks. Also it meant that you didn’t have to be in the cold January air for long, which was a bonus. With your backpack now heavier from the soda and snacks you bought, you knocked on their apartment door and waited patiently, rocking backwards and forwards on your feet. The door swung open and a smiley Donghyuck appeared behind the door.

“Hey (Y/N).” He opened the door wide enough for you to step in. You smiled back and quickly took your shoes off in the entrance.

“Hey Hyuck.” You neatly arranged your shoes by the door and pulled off your backpack and winter coat, hanging it up on the coat rack before shuffling through to the living room. As per usual, Renjun was nowhere in sight, but Jeno and Jaemin were sat on the sofas with their laptops on their laps with the tv showing old episodes of SpongeBob SquarePants. They both glanced up when you entered and smiled, Jaemin looking overly smug as he looked at you.

“Well hello (Y/N).” The Jaemin spoke had your eyebrows raising in question at his tone. It sounded like he knew something you didn’t and knowing Jaemin, it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Hello Jaemin…is Renjun in his room?”

“Yep.” You quickly rushed to Renjun’s bedroom, not bothering to knock on the door because you knew he wouldn’t hear you knock anyway. Upon entering you saw Renjun in his typical position. Sat in his gaming chair at his desk, playing some random game on his desktop with his gigantic headphones covering half of his head. “Hey Renjun!” You chirped, throwing yourself on his bed. He completely ignored you, too invested in his game to even notice that you’d entered his room. His eyes were glued to the screen and his mouth was popped open in his concentration. “Renjun…Renjun!” You raised your voice until eventually he turned his head, giving you a nod and a brief greeting as he moved his attention back to his game. “Seriously?” You sighed and rolled your eyes. “I’ll be in the living room.” You grumbled and walked out of his room, leaving the door open and making your way back to the living room.

“Hey, guess what.” Jaemin turned his attention to you as you entered the room again and sat yourself down in between him and Jeno.

“What?” You laid your head back against the sofa and tilted it towards Jaemin, getting relaxed and preparing yourself for the dumb thing he was probably about to say.

“So you know how Renjun is a virgin-”

“WHAT?!” You shot up, sitting bolt upright with a look that was a mix of shock and amusement on your face. Jaemin and Jeno both flinched at your loud voice, looking shocked themselves. Donghyuck let out a snigger across the room where he was sitting on his phone. “I mean I had a feeling he was a virgin, but he never told me! He always avoided the topic of girls whenever I brought it up.”

“Oh…anyway now you know,” Jaemin scratched the back of his head awkwardly, as if he’d just let out a big secret that he shouldn’t have. “So we have this little pact going, and since you’re a female and super close to Renjun, I thought you could help him out.” He grinned widely at you, closing his laptop and shifting all of his attention to you.

“I don’t like where this is going…” You narrowed your eyes in suspicion at him, having heard stories about Jaemin’s little schemes that didn’t end up going well and have caused plenty of stories you’re sure that the boys will be telling their grandchildren one day.

“It isn’t bad, don’t worry.” Jeno leaned over and mumbled to you. You let out a small sigh of relief but still held a little bit of suspense inside of you as you watch Jaemin.

“The pact is, we all have to lose our virginities before the end of the year-”

“You’re all virgins?” You titled your head in curiosity, actually quite shocked hearing that these four handsome boys were all virgins still. It was a big surprise to you that Donghyuck was a virgin, as you knew him to have the party boy reputation, and a party where everyone is making decisions under the influence of alcohol and other non-legal substances is an easy opportunity to lose your virginity.

“Yeah, anyway,” Jaemin shook his hand to try and grab your attention back to him as you looked around at the nodding boys. “Like I said, we have to lose our virginities before the end of 2020. You know Renjun really well and we all know how much of an introverted nerd he is-”

“That’s a bit harsh.” You interrupted Jaemin yet again, causing him to narrow his eyes at you. You sunk your head into your neck slightly and giggled. “Sorry, carry on.”

“Anyway,” He out a lot of emphasis on the word, giving you a wide-eyed look that almost dared you to interrupt him one more time. “He’s going to need a bit of help. He’s the only one we’re worried about finding someone to do the dirty with. So this is where you come in!” He patted your thigh and gave you a big, closed mouth grin. “You need to help him get his dick wet.” You felt a bit sad for Renjun. It made you sad that his best friends didn’t have confidence in his ability to get some, because you knew that if Renjun really put his mind to something, he could easily pull it off. Just because Renjun hadn’t had sex yet, doesn’t mean he’s incapable of it. And no, you’d never seen him flirt with anyone, or even lay eyes on another female, or…even show interest in another female…but that doesn’t mean he will struggle to fuck someone.

“He won’t need my help! The school year started two days ago and we’re less than a month into the new year, he has loads of time, there’s no rush.” You shrugged, sticking up for him as he wasn’t there to defend his own honour.

“Yeah we’re just saying that he might need a little…push in the right direction!” Jaemin was clearly only trying to help, so you didn’t get mad at him. Instead you rolled your eyes and patted Jaemin’s thigh.

“Let me handle it.” You pushed yourself up from the sofa and went back to Renjun’s room, rolling your eyes once more when you saw him sat in the exact same position as he was when you’d left the room. Instead of letting him ignore you though, you shut the door behind you, and marched up behind him. “Oi.” You lifted his headphones off of his head despite the little whine he let out. “I heard a little rumour about you Renjunnie.” You whispered in his ear, causing him to visibly shudder. He furrowed his eyebrows and turned off his game, spinning his chair around to face you as you perched on the end of his bed.

“A rumour? About what?” He tilted his head like a curious puppy, his knee bouncing which you had noticed he did as a little habit. One of the things you found endearing about Renjun was that he had a lot of little nervous habits. One of them was he fidgeted a lot, especially when the room was quiet but there was a lot of people surrounding him. Another one of his little habits was biting his nails, which you had reprimanded him for plenty of times, often by smacking his hand away from his face and giving him a glare.

“I heard from someone that you did some dirty dirty things at the new years party.” You winked at him, wondering if he would fall for your little story. You didn’t think it would be fun just to straight up tell him you knew about the pact and his very much still intact innocence, so instead you did what any best friend would do and wind him about it.

“Who said that?!” He frowned quickly, confusion settling over his features. He was wearing an oversized hoodie with matching sweatpants, and he looked far too cute and cosy to have a frown on his face. He slouched further into his seat and spread his legs out further, his habit of manspreading to the max still just as bad as it always was.

“A little birdie told me.” You smirked, putting your elbow on your thigh and leaning your head against your hand. You were trying really hard not to laugh, but Renjun hadn’t noticed that you were just teasing him yet. “Did you fuck someone again?” You titled your head, feigning innocence as his eyes squinted and he looked even more confused than before.

“Again? What on earth are you bumbling on about?” His cheeks were starting to pink up and that’s when you knew you had him where you wanted him.

“Well you’ve fucked someone before, haven’t you? So that would mean if you did it at the party then it would have been again! You following me?” You finished talking with a little giggle, biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from bursting out into full laughter.

“I-I…no I haven’t fucked anyone before. Whoever told you that was lying a-…no one told you a rumour, did they?” He raised an eyebrow as he caught onto your lie. He really did know you too well and he could see that you were holding in laughter. “You just wanted me to admit that I’m a virgin!” He stood up quickly and you gasped, knowing exactly what he was about to do. You quickly pushed yourself up the bed to try and escape from him.

“No Renjun I’m sorry no don’t tickle meeeee!” It was too late though, before you’d even finished your sentence, he had cornered you against the headboard of his single bed and had his hands digging into your sides.

“This is what you deserve!” He laughed, not bothered at all about being a virgin, so it didn’t bother him that you tried to amuse yourself with it. If it made you smile, Renjun would do take all the embarrassment in the world.

“Stooooooop!” You squealed, trying your hardest to push him away from you. He laughed with you, eventually relenting and removing his hands from you. He slapped your knee and sat beside you.

“That’s what you get for virgin shaming me.” He sniggered, bumping his shoulder into yours and crossing his arms in his lap. You didn’t notice the way he looked at you with a slight longing in his dark eyes. He yearned for your company; he was just too shy to tell you that all he wanted was for you to be cuddled up in his arms in times like this. He was too afraid to be rejected by you, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep the friendship alive; his awkwardness would play too much of a part and he wouldn’t be able to act like he normally did around you.

“I think it’s cute that you’re an innocent little bean!” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders from beside him and smiled up at him. “I bet you’ll be right kinky little fucker.” You sniggered, noticing how his cheeks went a dark red as he blushed. But he laughed with you despite his mouth popping open in shock. “Spank me daddy.” He gave you a gentle shove and flopped back on his bed, trying desperately to direct his thoughts in another direction at your vulgar saying. He didn’t have a daddy kink, well not that he knew of, but hearing you say something to erotic made his stomach spark up a fire he couldn’t control. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh.

“Gross.” Was all he mumbled, throwing his arms over his face to hide his embarrassment. You looked down at Renjun and felt a strange feeling you’d never felt when you’d looked at him before. Of course you found him attractive, but you’d never found yourself attracted to him before. So why were you suddenly having thoughts about what he would look like with shirt off as you looked down at the soft, embarrassed boy. Luckily, he had his eyes shut and his arms over his face, so he couldn’t see your eyes trailing up and down his body.

“So, Jaemin told me about the pact you have with them. Who are you planning on seducing?” He gently removed his arms and popped open an eye to look at you, not missing the way you wiggled your eyebrows at him suggestively.

“I haven’t even thought about it yet.” He shrugged, slowly pushing himself to sit up. You glanced around his room, your eyes trailing over the PlayStation and Xbox connected to his desktop monitor that you’d seen hundreds of times, before moving to the easel in the corner of his room that had an unfinished painting of what you assumed was supposed to be abstract art, as you couldn’t make out what the hell he was painting. His room was super cramped from how much he’d crammed into the small space, but it was cosy, and you’d fallen asleep squished up against him on his single bed plenty of times when he was gaming and you were bored. You loved being in his room.

“Leave it with me big boy.” You winked, patting his thigh, and ignoring the strange feeling you got in your stomach and the small amount of contact.

---

“Okay, so I know you’ve probably been anticipating this all week, but I have finally finished my list of ways that you can dip your dick into some vagina okay?” Your uncouth way of speaking had Renjun cringing and lowering his head slightly as he sat opposite you in the Chinese restaurant. Even though you said it quietly, he still went bright red at the thought of someone around hearing you and he nearly choked on his chicken. It was also the way that you had brought it up at the first moment of silence between you two since you’d sat down in the restaurant. You’d previously been talking about how you thought apple music was far superior to spotify, and then after the conversation on that topic was over, you’d swooped straight in with the kill.

“I know you won’t shut up until you tell me, so go for it.” He didn’t voice it, but he hoped that you would be subtle with whatever you had concocted in your own time. You put down your chopsticks to grab your phone out of your bag, quickly opening up your notes and clearing your throat.

“Option number one, go to a party with Donghyuck and find a lovely sober lady to take home.” You had a small nagging feeling in your stomach that was telling you he hoped you said no to all of the things on your list, and you couldn’t tell why you felt that way. He wrinkled up his nose and shook his head quickly.

“I don’t do parties; New Year’s Eve was a one off because it was the turn of the year and Jeno told me if I didn’t go then he’d throw all of my boxers off of the roof.” He said that with a serious look on his face, while you let out a quick laugh at the thought of Jeno doing that to his boxers.

“Okay…that doesn’t sound like something Jen would do though?” You titled your head in curiosity. Jaemin? Of course he would threaten to do that. Donghyuck? Also highly likely. Jeno? Nope. That doesn’t sound like something mellow, go with the flow, and responsible Jeno would do.

“He was already drunk off of wine.” Renjun shrugged, taking a sip of his water, and helping himself to the noodles between you both that you were sharing.

“Oh, wine drunk, okay that makes sense.” You nodded in understanding of Jeno’s actions now, placing your phone on the table so that you could go back to eating. You shoved some rice into your mouth and then read out the next option.

“Option number two, I can set you up with that gamer girl in my class. She’s a bit…out there! But that can be a good thing you know; she’ll probably tie you up and ride you over the rainbow.” You smiled at him as if the more you smiled at him, the more likely it would be for him to say yes. Sometimes you couldn’t help the words that tumbled out off your mouth, and after you heard them in your head after they’d been verbally spoken, you cringed. This was one of those moments. Especially when Renjun paused his chewing and gave you a look that was a mix of confusion and being grossed out. “I’ll take that as a no.” You cleared your throat and deleted option number one and two from your phone.

“How many options are there?” He moved his attention back to his food, leaning forward slightly as he shovelled more food into his mouth in an attempt to avoid commenting on your options.

“Four.”

“It took you an entire week and you only came up with four?!” His eyes flicked back to you in surprise.

“I forgot until this morning all right.” You mumbled and rolled your eyes at your own forgetfulness. “Moving on. Number three, you sign up to tinder.” The thought of Renjun signing up to tinder made you want to laugh but puke at the same time. Laugh because the poor boy had no idea how to flirt, and you could see him as the cringey boy who sent a strange pick up line or commented on something in one of the girl’s pictures. Puke because you didn’t want him to go on a date with some random girl you probably didn’t know. Again, confusion swirled around your head, because you’d never felt like that before, mainly because you’d never had any thoughts of Renjun dating since it wasn’t anything he’d ever done since you’d been his friend. Knocking that thought out of your head you cleared watched his face as he turned his nose up to option number three.

“Nope.” Shaking his head and drinking his water again, he wasn’t prepared for your fourth option.

“Fine! Final option, you make a decent amount from selling your work online, right? Hire a hooker!” He choked on his water at how nonchalantly you spoke those words, coughing and trying to catch his breath without causing other people to look over at you both. “Woah you okay buddy?” You giggled nervously and widened your eyes slightly. “Have a sip of water!” You pushed your own cup towards him and watched as his face went completely red.

“You’re insane.” He grunts out with a groggy sounding throat when his coughing fit had finished, quickly sipping at the water from your cup. “I’m not doing that.”

“Well then have fun finding someone to lose your purity too Mr I’m too good for (Y/N)’s ideas.” You folded your arms over your chest and shrugged, faking offense that he didn’t like any of your ideas. “Don’t say I didn’t try to help.”

“Your ideas sucked.” His words came out in a blunt way, which is what you should have expected since Renjun had never been shy about telling you things the way he saw them.

“Whatever, the only other option I can think of is to just fuck me and get it over with.” You pouted, sulking that he didn’t like your admittedly awful ideas. You did it again, you opened your mouth without thinking and even you were shocked at your own suggestion. Your eyes slowly widened as you thought it through in your head. You didn’t know if you even wanted to go there with Renjun, sleeping with someone is a big step for anyone, especially when they’re your best friend, but there was a small burst of butterflies setting off in your stomach at the thought of it. Renjun looked as if his brain was short circuiting, and his mouth opened and closed as he tried to form the right words to reply to you with. A strange awkward cloud settled over the table, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to take the offer back.

“No, I couldn’t.” He shook his head, gulping as he put the water back on the table, letting his eyes wonder everywhere but at you, causing him to miss the way you visibly deflated at his rejection. He didn’t want to just fuck you, no matter how much he longed to have you writhing underneath him, naked and basking in the glory of his affection. He wanted to hold your hand, give you soft, tender kisses that proved how much you had his heart. He wanted to make love to you and wake up the next morning with the certainty that you were his, and the only person who felt your love was him. So no, he couldn’t just fuck you and get it over with. You looked down at your plate, awkwardly pursing your lips as you wallowed in self pity at Renjun’s rejection. Did he not find you attractive? Did he not like you enough to do that? Did he simply not want to ruin your friendship? You didn’t know, and you were too busy feeling sorry for yourself that you didn’t bother asking.

“Okay cool.” You shrugged, sitting opposite him with a sad look on your face for the rest of the meal, even though it didn’t last long as Renjun hurried to pay the bill, despite your whining that you were going to pay. You both left and instead of going back to Renjun’s apartment like you had originally planned, you told him you were tired and promptly walked in the opposite direction to go back to your dorm on campus.

Renjun groaned as he watched you walk away, feeling bad about the way he had just shot you down without even offering you an explanation for why he didn’t want to have sex with you. But he didn’t have it in him just yet to tell you how he really felt for you, too scared that it would either scare you off, or cause you to feel awkward because you didn’t feel the same way as him. Either way, he knew he was screwed.

---

After a week of punishing Renjun for hurting your feelings, you finally decided it was time to relieve him of your absence. You weren’t so harsh as to completely ignore him, but your texts had been vague, and you had simply told him that you were busy whenever he asked you to hang out. You had a feeling that he knew you were upset, because he didn’t wait outside of your class on a Wednesday afternoon like he did every week, and you knew Renjun well enough to know it was because he was giving you your space. He knew you’d go to him when you were ready. Which is the exact reason you were stood in his doorway, staring at his side profile because as per usual, he hadn’t noticed your arrival, too engrossed in playing call of duty on his Xbox with his headset on. Jeno had let you into the apartment with a kind smile, telling you that Renjun had been whining about missing you all week. You were thankful that Jeno went behind Renjun’s back to tell you that, because it was just more confirmation for you that he did in fact like you and wasn’t just using you as someone to hang out with. You did feel silly for feeling that way, but in the moment of being hurt, you couldn’t help but let your mind drift over to the negative side of thoughts.

You approached him without warning, not noticing as his eyes flicked up to look at you in completely surprise at your sudden appearance. He quickly remembered that he was in the middle of a war and went back to looking at his screen, trying not to make it obvious that his heart was pounding so hard in his chest that he was sure it was visible. You swung one of your legs over his, putting your hands on his shoulders and struggling to sit yourself down. He let go of his controller with one hand and helped you onto his lap, his breath held from how close you were as you snuggled your head into his neck, wrapping your arms around his body and his gaming chair. He wrapped his arms around you, holding his controller behind your back and playing the game over your shoulder. This was the first time that you had wiggled your way into his hold when he was playing his games on his gaming chair, so he was beyond surprised, but elated at how warm you felt cuddled up to him. He held you tightly whilst shooting at random people’s characters on the game, completely silent instead of swearing when his own character was shot.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He mumbled, trying to pretend like it hadn’t affected him. But your absence had his heart yearning for you even more. You just hummed in confirmation at his statement, your hot breath against his neck almost making him sweat from how nervous he was getting at having you where he wanted you. Ever since you’d stumbled into his life, he had wanted to hold you like this whilst he played his video games, loving how it gave you attention and kept you close, whilst he still got to play his games. As you clung onto Renjun, you came to a realisation that you could happily get used to this. It felt strange. You’d never had feelings like this towards him, but as he held you in his arms you came to realise that you were starting to get feelings for him. You knew that it was dangerous. Everyone always says to never fall in love with your best friend, but sometimes you don’t even realise that you’re falling down that slippery slope until you’re already in the deep end.

You heard Renjun put his controller down on the desk behind you before removing his headset, your heart starting to pound as he placed both of his hands underneath your thighs. You gripped onto him tighter as he stood up from his chair with you in his hold. You buried your face into his neck more, smiling to yourself because you assumed he was going to put you on the bed so that you could talk about things. You desperately wanted to ask him why he said he couldn’t fuck you, but at the same time you were scared that you’d hear something you didn’t want to hear, something that would put out the fire of feelings inside your stomach like a bucket of ice cold water. Maybe if things went right you could tell him that you were starting to develop feelings for him, so that the two of you could get control of this situation quickly before anyone got hurt. You also knew that if you stayed quiet about your growing feelings for Renjun and he went and fucked someone else, then you’d be gutted.

Renjun placed you on the edge of his bed and then let go of your thighs, he tried to pull away, but you had a tight grip on him. He moved his hands up and pried your arms away from around his shoulders. He smiled at you softly, reaching out a hand and ruffling your hair before sitting himself back down in his gaming chair. He put his headset back on and picked his controller back up, taking a deep breath to try and steady his heart from how quick it had been pounding when he was touching you. He gulped, fidgeting around in his chair and turning it away from you slightly so that you couldn’t see him as well.

You narrowed your eyes at him, gulping down the pang of hurt you felt at him removing you from his lap and just dumping you on his bed. Not only that, he then went back to playing his game and ignoring you. No boy that liked you in the way you liked them would do that, you thought, quickly standing up and marching out of his bedroom with a scowl on your face. You didn’t even bother to say goodbye to Jeno as you rushed past him, not wanting him to see the tears that were flooding your vision. You weren’t hurt at the realisation that he might not like you in anyway other than platonic, you were hurt that he just brushed you aside and acted as if his games meant more to him than his best friend.

As soon as you got home you muted all his contact on all of your social medias so that you wouldn’t see if he messaged you or not, and then you laid on your bed and sulked, wishing you had an Xbox so you could go on call of duty and kill his character as a way of getting back at him. It was petty, but it was an oddly satisfying way of getting back at him in your mind.

---

It had been another week. You weren’t sure why you were leaving it a week each time before you gave in and let Renjun have his chance of redemption, but it felt like a good amount of time for you to calm down about what had happened. You had cleared your head, focusing on your studying instead of dwelling on your feelings for Renjun, which had stupidly grown over the week. You cursed the first person to claim that distance makes the heart grow fonder, because now you knew first-hand that that statement was correct. You hadn’t read any of the messages you’d received off of Renjun. Not only had he texted you, but he’d sent you snapchats, facebook messaged you, and even came over to your dorm to try and get your attention. When you hadn’t answered the door, he’d slipped a piece of paper underneath your door. It was a cartoon drawing of himself with a speech bubble saying ‘I miss you, I’m sorry for whatever I did’, which annoyed you even more despite how cute it was, because he clearly couldn’t see what he’d done wrong. But you just ignored all of his efforts, wanting him to realise that he had hurt your feelings and you weren’t prepared to just let it go this time. He didn’t get to throw you aside and choose his games over you. Best friend or not, that was super rude in your eyes.

You blamed this stupid pact that the boys had. If they’d never made the pact, then you wouldn’t have been dragged into helping him lose his virginity, then you would have never realised your feelings for him, and things would be how they used to be. But still, things could have ended worse if you hadn’t realised your feelings until after he’d given his innocence away to someone else. Anyway that you looked at it, you just felt like you were stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Renjun had yet to notice you, yet again, as you stood in his doorway with a determined look in your eyes. You knew what you were about to do was stupid. Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid. Yet you knew it would get you the answers that you need to clear your head, and hopefully it would make Renjun realise that you deserved his attention more than his stupid games consoles.

You quickly walked over to him after carefully shutting his door. He didn’t notice you until you were climbing into his lap, his body flinching from how startled he was to suddenly have someone climbing on him. He gulped, just letting you climb onto him, not needing to help you as you moved his limbs around until you were perched in his lap, staring at his face with a slightly worried look on your face. You had all of his attention, his arms tightly around you with both of his hands gripping the controller of his playstation behind your back. All he could hear was the sound of war going on through his headset, because his eyes were now on your eyes, watching them as they scanned his own face. You reached up and slipped his headset from his ears, placing them on his desk before grabbing his face in your palms. He gulped, his lips parting as he tried to find some words, but even a simple hello wouldn’t come out of his mouth. He wasn’t sure where he stood with you. The last thing he knew he was in your bad books, but here you are, sat on his lap with has face in your grip.

His eyes widened when your lips planted themselves on his own. His controller fell out of his hands and tumbled to the floor with a clatter, but he placed his hands on your hips slowly and let his eyes flutter shut. His heart was pounding as he realised that the girl he was head over heels for was kissing him. You had a tight hold on Renjun’s face so that he couldn’t feel your hands shaking, but not tight enough that he couldn’t pull away if he wanted to. Your lips moved slowly against his, and to your relief, he moved his lips in time with yours. The kiss wasn’t perfect, but after you found your rhythm with each other, your lips slotted together like puzzle pieces. You pulled away slightly, your lips now resting less than a centimetre away from his as you tried to steady your breathing. Renjun opened his eyes a slither and stared at your lips, gulping in nervousness before placing a lingering kiss to them once more. Your heart almost burst. That small kiss from Renjun had more of an impact on you than the big kiss you had planted on his lips, because he had initiated that kiss, which meant he wanted to kiss you.

“I’m sorry for whatever I did.” He whispered, his thumbs stroking against the material of your hoodie, his touch feeling warm even through the thick fabric. You sighed and pulled your head further away, opening your eyes and looking him in the eyes.

“You can’t even see what you did wrong Renjun, how can you be sorry?” You slowly let your hands trail from his face to rest lightly on his shoulders. He looked taken aback, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of the right words to say to you.

“Because whatever I did hurt your feelings…what did I do?” He tilted his head slightly, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to rack his brain for the part where he went wrong. His cute expression had your heart soaring, and you were finding it really hard to be mad at him. You were feeling a bit more at ease though, as Renjun had accepted your kiss and had kissed you on his own accord, which in your head must mean that he has some kind of feelings for you.

“We were cuddling, and then you just tossed me aside on your bed and went back to your games, you even turned your back towards me…that hurt my feelings Renjun…you were more interested in your stupid games than you were about me.” You felt slightly silly saying it, especially since your bottom lip naturally pouted itself out like you were a sulking child, but you were glad you got the opportunity to express your feelings to him so that hopefully the two of you could clear the air.

You didn’t miss the way that Renjun’s face went bright red in less than ten seconds, his eyes momentarily widening before he groaned, letting his head roll back as he stared at the ceiling. You raised an eyebrow in confusion at his reaction to your words. He huffed a laugh that turned into a whine, and he raised his head up again, his fluffy brown hair flopping back on his forehead perfectly in place. His face was still burning red and his grip on your hips tightened. “I…oh fuck this is embarrassing…”

“What is?” You titled your head at him, noticing how his adams apple bobbed as he gulped in embarrassment.

“I didn’t remove you from my lap because I wanted to play the games instead of cuddle you. I put you on the bed because you were making…” He took another deep breath and then quickly exhaled and carried on. “You were making me hard, and I didn’t want you to notice. So I moved you and then turned away so you couldn’t see my crotch.” He hands slowly trailed down to your lower back, his fingers lifting up the hem of your hoodie so that his hands were pressed against the warmth of your bare skin. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings; I just didn’t want you to know that I got hard from you sitting on my lap whilst I was playing my games. It was really hot, and I like you a lot, so I panicked and…yeah.” He cut off his own rambling to look at you which he had previously been avoiding as he was explaining his motives to you. Your mouth popped open in complete and utter shock. Of all the reasons why Renjun had done what he’d done you’d made in your head, that was not on the list.

“Y-you like me?” You stuttered out, gulping yourself to get rid of the small lump of emotion forming in your throat. He smiled timidly, nodding his head to confirm your question. “I like you too…oh my god…this is crazy but like…in a good way!” You were struggling to find words, so you simply leaned in and kissed him again, wanting to feel his soft lips on your again. He returned the kiss, basking in the feeling of finally having your warm lips slotted between his own, a fuzzy feeling that felt natural blossoming inside of his chest. The kiss confirmed to you that you did have strong feelings towards your best friend, and you were thankful that you did, because you loved everything about Renjun. Even if he was addicted to gaming and was clearly bad at expressing his feelings. You’d only known about your feelings for him for about two weeks, but they’d been there a lot longer than that, sitting at the back of your heart and waiting for the perfect time to attack you. You wondered when Renjun had come to terms with the fact he had feelings for you. But asking him meant that you’d have to pull your lips away from his, which was out of the question for you. Renjun stopped kissing you, but didn’t drag his lips away far, letting them linger against yours, brushing them with yours as if he couldn’t quite believe that they were there.

“You’ve had sex before, haven’t you?” His voice was barely audible, and you smiled against his lips, placing a very tender peck to his glistening, pouted lips. It hadn’t taken Renjun long to start getting hard, his bulge brushing against your crotch as you shuffled closer to him on his lap, a gasp caught in your throat as you answered him.

“Twice.” You whispered back, your stomach erupting in butterflies as you rocked your hips on him, confirming your suspicions that he did in fact have a hard on. Renjun gulped, his cheeks flaring up as he thought his next words over a few times.

“Wanna make it a third?” Your mouth popped open and you stared at him, completely gobsmacked. Renjun bit his bottom lip, his stomach turning as he thought that maybe he’d said the wrong thing. He thought he’d blown it with you before he even got a chance to really start it. Until you let out a laugh through your open mouth, your eyebrows still raised.

“Huang Renjun! That was so smooth! I’m so proud of you.” You leaned in, licking into his mouth and cupping his face in your hands. He held back the sigh of relief he wanted to let out, instead breathing out of his nose slowly and standing up quickly with you in his grasp, much like he had done the week before. But instead of dumping you on the bed and just going back to his games, instead he threw you down onto his bed and crawled over you, settling his body down on yours gently and bringing his lips back to yours. You were beyond shock at the surprise confidence that was suddenly rushing through Renjun. The normally shy, quiet, and reluctant boy was taking complete control of the situation despite the fact he’d never done this before. You felt pride, and you’d be sure to give him a reward for his courage later on.

You gripped at the back of his t-shirt, bunching the cotton in your hands as you trailed your hands up his back, your lips still locked with his even as you got the shirt to the back of his neck. He pulled away, sitting up on his knees to pull his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. You bit your bottom lip as you trailed your hands down his chest to his abdomen, your eyes following your hands as you admired his body. You had no idea how he managed to stay so fit considering all he did was play games, do art, and eat junk food, but he had an impressive body. You let your fingers fiddle with the buttons on his jeans as you lick your lips, moving your eyes back up his body and seeing that his eyes were locked on your face, his bottom lip stuck between his teeth.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, leaning down and kissing your cheek gently. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.” You noticed his adams apple bob as he gulped, and then all of a sudden he just completely froze, his eyes still as he looked down at you.

“Renjun…?” You sat up in concern, taking his face in your palms and stroking your thumbs against his hot cheeks. “Are you alright?” You pecked his parted lips slowly, letting your lips linger as your thumbs worked small circles on his smooth skin. He cleared his throat, snapping out of his daze and nodding his head.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine I just…what if I’m no good?” His voice was small, and his hands came to rest on your hips. You smiled, holding in your giggle as you dipped your head down to kiss at his throat, swirling your tongue around the spot that you then attached your lips to.

“No ones a porn star on their first attempt, and you know that I won’t judge you anyway.” He seemed to relaxed under your touch and then his hands pushed against you, forcing you to lay back down on the bed.

“Tell me what to do.” He whispered, his cheeks a vibrant red as he stared down at you waiting for instructions. You bit your bottom lip, knowing you had him completely under your thumb, but you didn’t want to push him too far and ruin it for him.

“How about I give you some options and you pick whichever one you want to do?” He nodded quickly in agreement, a small smirk playing on his lips that were a light red from how much you’d kissed them. “Hang on.” You sat up again and pulled your sweater over your head, throwing it on the floor with Renjun’s t-shirt and trying not to smirk at how wide his eyes went when his eyes zoned in on your bra. “You can touch them.” He didn’t need anymore prompting, his hands quickly trailing from your hips to your breast, his hands cupping them and giving them a small squeeze.

“Wow…” He whispered in awe, licking his lips, and bumping his bulge against your crotch to try and get some friction to his growing cock.

“Okay so these are the options, first of all, do you want to do foreplay or just jump straight in?” You didn’t know if he could last until the actual fucking if you did foreplay, but you really hoped he said he wanted the foreplay.

“I want to do foreplay…can I eat you out…please?” You raised your eyebrows as he had clearly picked which foreplay he wanted before you even managed to give him his options.

“Since you asked so nicely.” You bit your bottom lip, watching his every move as he shuffled down the bed, laying on his stomach with his legs hanging off the end of the bed. You leaned forward and unclipped your bra, pulling it from your chest and playfully throwing it onto Renjun’s head. He paused as he laughed softly, your bra covering his vision momentarily until he threw it on the floor. His tongue ran over his lips when he saw your boobs for the first time.

“Wow.” He whispered in awe, shuffling back up the bed and hovering over your body. “Can I?” He swallowed the saliva that had pooled in his mouth from his mouth watering at the sight of your chest.

“You haven’t got to ask for anything Renjun, if you want to do something, do it.” He made eye contact with you, a small smile playing on his lips as he nodded in understanding. His tongue poked out and flicked over your left nipple, his eyes closing briefly as he swirled the wet appendage around the hard nub, covering it with a thin coat of his spit. His lips encased your nipple, sucking it until his mouth like it was going to give him something in return. Your breath left your lungs at the spark that rushed through your body, his tongue still working on your nipple even as he sucked. He reached up and pinched your right nipple gently with his hand, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger before flicking it quickly. You knew he’d seen this in porn, otherwise he wouldn’t have done it with such confidence. Even though porn wasn’t the best educational way to learn how to fuck, you thanked it in this moment, because it was really paying off. You ran your hands through his hair, gripping it tightly and pushing his head south softly, trying to hint that you want him to use his tongue where you needed it the most.

He seemed reluctant to let go of your nipple, but he did in the end, releasing it with a pop and licking down your stomach, pressing kisses along the way until he came to the waistband of your leggings. He glanced up at you with questioning eyes, you nodded as encouragement and then felt his fingers slowly peel the waistband down your legs. “Fuck.” He mumbled upon seeing your blue lace panties. He had the picture engraved forever in his brain and he knew later on he would have a good attempt at drawing what he’d seen. But the drawings would be for his eyes only, and maybe yours depending on how well they resembled you.

You didn’t want to rush him so just watched as he pulled your leggings off of your legs, pulling your socks off with them and placing a soft kiss to your left ankle. He swooped down after tenderly placing your legs over his shoulders, getting himself comfortable on the bed with his face in front of your spread legs. He leaned in, dragging his tongue from your hole to your clit over the top of your panties. His eyes flicked up at you, watching as you took in a sharp inhale of breath, your own eyes locked on him with your mouth parted. He slowly rubbed you over your panties with two of his fingers, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he concentrated hard, also slightly in disbelief that he was doing this to you of all people.

“Take them off.” You breathed out, feeling like the material was suffocating you in your want, your need. He wasted no time in complying to your demand, tugging them down your legs and leaving them to lay beside him on the bed. His eyes widened at how your pussy was glistening with slick, and a sense of pride washed over him because he knew that he caused it.

“Shit.” He mumbled, not thinking about his actions before diving his tongue in between your folds, lapping at you like you were a melting ice cream in the summer heat. “Oh fuck.” Your head flopped backwards onto his pillow as he messily ate you out, his tongue travelling up and down, round and round, visiting your clit before meandering back down to dip inside of your leaking hole. “Use your fingers.” Your back arched when he cautiously slid his middle finger inside of you, his hips subconsciously grinding into the bed to release some of the pressure on his hard cock.

“Like this?” He pumped it in and out of you, his tongue pushing against your sensitive clit at the same time.

“Yes! Fuck another!” You didn’t realise how loud you were being, but Renjun wasn’t about to tell you, his pride in what he was doing clouding his mind to the point where he didn’t care who heard. He slid his ring finger in beside his middle finger, sitting up on his knees and leaning down to connect his lips to yours, his tongue clashing against yours in a heated kiss as his fingers pumped in and out of you. He moved to lay beside you, your feet planted on the bed and his lips now on your neck as he worked magic with his fingers. If you weren’t so lost in the feeling his was bringing down on you, you would question whether or not he was really a virgin, because he was making you feel so good with truly little instruction. “Jun stop, I’m gonna cum if you don’t.” You grabbed his wrist, your chest rising and falling fast as you tried to catch your breath and steady the rhythm of your heart. He halted his actions and leaned in, pecking your lips quickly.

“Was it good?” He shyly asked, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he withdrew his fingers from you, examining the juices coating his fingers and palm, a small bead dribbling down his wrist. You nodded, not being able to speak properly just yet as you tried to will your orgasm back into its hiding spot. “You’re so wet.” He whispered in surprise, his eyes then going back down to your face. “Can I fuck you now?” He was beyond horny, the pressure in his crotch area almost hurting as he used his fingers to pop open the button on his jeans, sliding down the zipper and diving his wet hand inside his boxers to squeeze at his erection.

“Please…wait don’t you want me to suck you off?” You felt bad at not giving what you’d received, but Renjun sat up on his knees again, positioning himself between your legs.

“If you touch my dick I will cum, and I want to cum inside of you.” He quickly rose from the bed, turning his back from you as he went to his desk, opening up a drawer and pulling out a silver packet. He pulled his jeans and boxers down in one swift motion, his back still turned away from you so you didn’t get to see his cock yet. He rolled the condom on his length, taking a deep breath to try and compose himself as he pumped himself a few times. He then turned around, trying not to cower underneath your sultry gaze that soon fell from his face to his cock. You knew he was nervous, and he was still your best friend, so you winked at him.

“Nice cock.” You spread your legs wider as a silent invite for him.

“Thanks.” He chuckled, his face beet red and his hair looking like a bird’s nest from how your fingers had ruffled through it. He clambered onto the bed, moving so that he was hovering over you with his left hand planted on the bed next to your neck. He used his right hand to grip at his shaft. “I love you.” He whispered, leaning down and placing a kiss so sweet to your lips that you almost melted through his bed. You heart felt like it was swelling up in your chest as you wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping his lips close to yours.

“Love you too Renjunnie.” You whispered back; your words mumbled into his lips as he guided his cock inside of you slowly. He paused halfway, taking a deep breath, and then exhaling through his nose to try and compose himself. Once he was fully inside of you he leaned down and tucked head into the crook of your neck, laying gentle butterfly kisses to your skin, breathing in your scent and waiting for you both to adjust.

After a minute he gently pulled his hips back, then pushed them against you again, his cock sliding in and out of you in a steady but gradual rhythm. He groaned into your neck, feeling an unimaginable amount of pleasure buried in your warm, wet walls. He’d jerked off a lot of times throughout his years, but that felt like nothing compared to how you felt around him. His cock felt so snug inside of you, like you were made to fit him inside. You panted, closing your eyes and wrapping your legs around him, your hands moving from his neck to grip at his hair once again, tugging it softly to cope with the pleasure you felt every time his cock would push back into you.

His hips sped up, the sound of skin slapping against skin resonating around the room as you started to lose control of your vocal chords, your mouth spilling moans as you bucked your hips up into his, looking for more even if what he was giving you was more than enough. “(Y/N), fuck baby girl.” He moaned loudly, pushing up onto his arms so he was staring down at you, his eyes boring into yours as his hips moved at a different angle, hitting a new spot inside of you that had your eyes almost rolling into the back of your head. “I can’t hold on much longer.” You were happy he was admitting it so that you didn’t hold back on your own orgasm, wanting to cum around his pulsating cock inside of you. The dirty thought had your back arching, your hands moving from his body to grip at the sheets of his bed, looking for something to squeeze as the pressure you felt building up inside of you was so astronomical you felt like you were going to burst. His thrusts became sloppy as his peak came closer, sitting back on his heels more and gripping at your hips tightly.

“Renjun harder!” You squealed, your thighs quivering and toes curling as he delivered three hard thrusts that had you moaning out loudly, your orgasm crashing into you like a wave of lava consuming your body. You were actually surprised that he’d managed to make you cum before he did, considering he was the virgin and you knew it was rare for you to climax so fast. There was just something about Renjun that had your nerves on fire, your body reacting to him like nothing you’d ever felt before. He stilled completely, his fingers digging into you so hard you were certain they’d leave little sore spots where fingertip shaped bruises would arise. He stomach flexed as he came into the condom, the feeling of your walls squeezing his cock being enough to force him over the edge. He grinded his hips into you a few more times, slowly as he head fell back onto his shoulders, his hair sticking to his forehead and his mouth parted as he tried to regain his regular breathing.

“Fuuuuck.” He groaned, slowly coming back to live on your world again and looking down at you with lazy, half closed eyes. He had a dopey smile on his face that told you he was still on cloud nine, and then reluctantly he pulled out of you, flopping onto his back beside you on the small bed, your shoulders pressed firmly against his. You had recovered from your orgasm, watching him as his eyes slowly closed and struggled to reopen.

“Hey,” You whispered, rolling onto your side and leaning up on one of your arms. “We need to clean up.” You placed a gentle peck on his still parted lips. He groaned, giving his head a small shake. You rolled your eyes and sat up, letting him get away with being lazy since he’d just lost his virginity, but next time you weren’t going to let him get away with it. “Fine.” You slowly stood up, wobbling slightly on your legs and having to grip onto his bedside table for stability for a moment. You grabbed some tissues and wiped yourself off your own mess, discarding of them before grabbing more tissues and wiping Renjun clean of any mess, also removing the condom and throwing it into his waste bin. By the time you’d finished cleaning the two of you up, you noticed that Renjun was completely dead to the world, his chest moving slowly as he slept. You rolled your eyes and giggled, pulling a blanket over the top of his naked body, and kissing his forehead affectionately. You pulled on your bra and panties, throwing on the biggest t-shirt of Renjun’s that you could find in his wardrobe before leaving the room quietly, shutting the door gently to not disturb him.

You walked out into the living room, on your way to the kitchen to get yourself a drink when you came across the wide eyed, shocked, yet oddly smug faces of three boys, staring directly at you. You froze, a guilty smile on your face because you completely forgot that Renjun shared the apartment with his best friends. You also thought about how you must have looked, your hair a mess and your skin still slightly glistening from the sweat you’d accumulated from fucking Renjun.

“Hi…” You broke the silence, slowly shuffling towards the kitchen but keeping your eyes on them. It was Jaemin who spoke up first.

“You know, when I said you needed to help him get his dick wet, I didn’t mean for you to be the one who wet it…” Jeno slapped Jaemin on the shoulder for that remark, but you sniggered and bit your bottom lip, your cheeks heating up as you realised that they must have heard most, if not all of what you’d done.

“You should have been more specific Jaems.” You shrugged, walking off to the kitchen and leaving them to talk amongst themselves.

---

“What’s bothering you Renjun?” You’d been sat with him at the local diner, a bowl of nachos in between you both but Renjun had hardly touched them, instead fiddling with a napkin, and avoiding your gaze. Renjun glanced up and gave you a small smile, picking up the milkshake that you were both sharing and taking a sip of it through the straw. You’d spent the night with Renjun, sleeping on his chest on his small bed and cuddling him all night. You felt like you were living on a magical cloud and no one could bring you down. You’d also spent the morning with him, and he’d been strangely quiet, just cuddling with you on his bed and watching Netflix until your stomach rumbled and he dressed you in some of his clothes and marched you down to the diner.

“Nothing is.” He shrugged but you knew he was lying, his eyes still avoiding your own. You knew him too well though, so you knew that something was definitely playing on his mind.

“Is it because we fucked last night?” Renjun nearly choked on the nacho that he’d put in his mouth as an attempt to distract you from thinking something was wrong with him. You smirked, seeing that you’d got it right on the mark. “Do you regret it?” You gently rubbed your foot against his own as you sat opposite him in the booth.

“No!” His eyes widened as he hurried to reassure you that he didn’t regret what happened. “Babe no, I loved it, it was amazing…I just…” He trailed off, taking a deep breath, and running a hand through his hair nervously.

“What is it?” You gave him a smile of encouragement, hoping he wasn’t about to tell you that he didn’t want to do it again.

“You give me a funny feeling in my stomach.” He looked down at the milkshake glass in his hands, trailing his fingers up and down the condensation as his cheeks turned red. You felt your own cheeks start to burn at his confession, and you laughed awkwardly.

“That could just be the milkshake.” You mumbled, shoving a nacho in your mouth, and watching him intently.

“I’m being serious. You give me this feeling that I’ve never felt before and I’m fairly sure that it’s the feeling people get when they look at someone they love.” His words had your heart pounding, and suddenly you had no appetite. You knew what the feeling was, because you felt it whenever you looked at Renjun, whenever he smiled, or said something really smart that went straight over your head.

“I feel the same way.” You reached across the table and took his hand in your own, gently rubbing your thumb against the back of his hand.

“Do you…oh god this is so awkward, and I’ve never done this before but…do you want to be with me? As my girlfriend?” He looked nervous, as if you were going to shot him down like a pigeon in the sky. You broke out into a big smile and giggled in your own nervousness.

“I would love to be your girlfriend.” You squeezed his hand, trying to stop yourself from squealing from how giddy you felt in that moment. Your best friend was also your boyfriend, and from that moment you would start a new chapter in your relationship with Renjun.

Later on that evening Renjun had convinced you to let him draw you. You felt silly, and you knew for a fact you’d find it hard to stay still the whole time considering he wanted to draw your whole body. But since he asked so nicely, and had begged about sixty times in an hour, you eventually stripped off completely naked, and laid on his bed for him. You laid on your side with your head resting on his pillow, your right arm tucked under the pillow as you faced him. He was sat in his gaming chair, his glasses perched on his nose and his sketchpad in his lap. He kept poking his tongue out in concentration and would tell you off every time you moved.

“So, I know you spoke to the boys earlier on when I was in the shower,” You smiled at him, trying your hardest not to move as to not get scolded by him again. “Did they say anything about us?” Renjun looked up over his sketch pad and cleared his throat, giving you an awkward laugh and nod.

“Of course they did. First off, they congratulated me for losing my virginity first, they also said they were super shocked, which I’m not gonna lie, kind of offended about that.” He laughed, which told you he was only joking, and he hadn’t actually taken any offence to their words. “Then they said that they’re happy for me that I have finally asked you out and yeah that’s pretty much it.” You bit your bottom lip, smirking as you looked at Renjun, his eyes trained on his art and not looking at you as he worked on a certain part.

“Renjun…” You called out, parting your legs and trailing your left hand down your body, cupping your heat and rubbing your fingers over yourself slowly. He looked up and then looked back at his art, realising what he’d just seen and quickly looking back up against to take a second look.

“Holy…” He trailed off, gulping as he watched you rub yourself, your bottom lip between your teeth. “I know you’re trying to seduce me so that we can fuck but…I haven’t drawn your lower half yet and I would really love to draw you exactly as you are now. So don’t move!” His face was red, but he looked like an excited puppy. You groaned, you eyes rolling and you cursed yourself for having an artist as a boyfriend, because now he was finally in a sexual relationship, he could unlock a whole new level to his art that he’d never been able to before.

“Haung Renjun, you better fuck me so good after you’re finished drawing or I will rip it up.” Your threat left a wide grin on his face, and you knew this was going to be an incredibly fun chapter in your life.

Hello! I hope you enjoyed the first instalment of The Virgin Diaries! I didn’t proofread the smut scene so sorry if there’s any grammar or spelling errors there, maybe one day I’ll go back and proofread it but don’t hold your breath. Let me know what you think and if you’re excited for Jeno’s part (he’s next). Love you!

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twokinkybeans · 4 years

Text

MAKE IT LAST - STARKER MOB BOSS/COFFEE SHOP AU

HERE IT FINALLY IS! So, a few months back we did a prompt line fic thing. This means this one shot is wayyyy late, but it also got wayyyyyyyyyyyy out of hand and is now nearly 11k words long omg.

The prompt line @jeranasblog gave me was: "He had spilled his coffee on the suit of the most dangerous man in New York City." I hope you enjoy! <3 -Lien

Warnings: Adult!Peter Parker, Mob boss!Tony, Barista!Peter, No powers!AU, Peter is a little dense but we still love him, angst, fluff and smut, near the end there are some gruesome threats, abduction, guns, May is mentioned, Obadiah Stane is the bad guy, Bucky and Steve are there, Coffee Shop boss is an OC and has a gambling addiction. Smut tags: NFF, teasing, sexting, masturbation, orgasm delay/denial, hand job with much lube lol, hand & finger kink, praise kink, daddy kink, possessive kink, dry humping, finger sucking, anal fingering

Read “Make It Last” on AO3! Taglist: @the-secret-avenger @ironspiidey

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“Two minutes, Peter- hurry up!” Mister McDougall’s high pitched command reverbs through the coffee shop. In two minutes, it’ll be two PM on the Tuesday afternoon. Peter’s been working here for three years now. Just yet, he tried to quit, but that wasn’t taken kindly. He can still feel the eerie presence of the tip of a knife on his cheekbone. How Peter got himself stuck in this job is a long story. A very long one. You see, the owner of the coffee shop, Mister McDougall, made a deal with New York’s biggest mafia boss to be able to keep the shop and… He wasn’t able to pay back on time. Lucky for Mister McDougall, Peter was working when the Big Boss came to collect. At two PM. On a Tuesday afternoon. A few months ago...

The bell of the front door rang and Peter walked in from the back, smiling kindly. He greeted the rich looking man. “Good afternoon, Sir,” he said in his regular chipper voice. The man cocked an eyebrow over his sunglasses and pursed his lips. His neatly trimmed beard moved along with his expression and he sniffed once. “One black coffee to go,” the man demanded. Peter’s mood didn’t falter. He was used to stern customers, New York generally wasn’t a kind city. Peter smiled and nodded, immediately getting to work. It wasn’t a difficult one to make, after all. He’d ring this guy up in less than a minute. “You know what,” the man suddenly said. “Make that a caramel Frappuccino. Extra whipped cream. Drink here. Make it last.” Make it last? Peter wondered what the man meant with that. It was only then that Peter realized that the man was studying his every movement a little more closely than a regular customer would. It didn’t necessarily make Peter uncomfortable, though. The man was at least twice his age, but it was undeniable that he was the hottest man Peter had ever laid eyes on. Even though his eyes were covered by an expensive pair of sunglasses. Peter quickly moved to pour the milk, but the man’s deep voice filled the empty space again. “Make. It. Last.” Peter blinks, dumbfounded. “You… You want me to work slower?” The man then raised his hand to pull down his glasses slightly, so he could look Peter in the eye properly. Infinite whisky browns stared straight into Peter’s soul. “Yes.” “A-alright,” Peter stuttered and went back to work, tearing his gaze away from the man. If Mister McDougall were here, he’d kill him for working at this pace. But ah well, the customer is always right. The customer is king. And the man he was making the coffee for sure looked like he was in charge. Maybe he would leave a nice tip. “Where’s your boss?” There was a hint of annoyance hidden in the man’s voice. “Mister McDougall?” Peter replied as he turned to grab the caramel. “He’s at a convention on the other side of the country. Was pretty vague about it, to be honest. Something to do with beans.” “Beans,” the man scoffed. “Sure.” He rolled his shoulders and walked to the other side of the counter where Peter would ring him up. His eyes never left the young man. “And he left you in charge of the store on the day he knew I’d show up?” Peter glanced up from his work questioningly, but then shrugged. “Apparently.” “Do you know about our deal?” “Oh!” Peter exclaimed softly as he placed the large cup on the counter. “He mentioned he was working on a business proposal with someone, but I didn’t pry, cause this isn’t my store. I’m sorry, Sir, did he have an appointment with you?” The man gritted his teeth and pushed out his reply. “Yes.” “I could call him now? If you want?” A slight smirk crept up on the man’s face. “Please do.” Peter didn’t hesitate to grab his phone from his back pocket. There usually weren’t any other customers at this hour of the day anyways. He looked up the number of his boss and hit call. “Hey Pete-“ “Hi, Mister McDougall, there’s someone here to see you, but you must’ve forgotten your appointment.” The other end of the line stayed quiet and Peter pulled a face at the customer. “Sir?” More silence. “Do you want me to reschedule it for you?” “Peter,” the customer interrupted them. It didn’t matter how long Peter wore that name tag, he never got used to strangers saying it out of the blue. “Hand me the phone and go to the back. Mister McDougall and I can discuss our arrangement here and now, but I do require some privacy.” Peter blinked once. Twice. And then he slowly moved to give his phone to the man in the suit. “Don’t let your coffee go cold,” Peter said with a curt nod before rushing off to the back. He shuffled to the dishwasher and turned it on to give them some more privacy, the loud rumble of the water inside the machine drowning out any other sound in the back. Not even five minutes later, the man walked into the back with Peter’s phone in hand, a dark smirk plastered on his face. “Your phone,” he said politely, placing the piece of technology in Peter’s palm. Peter smiled warmly. “Thank you, Sir.” He walked passed the man back to the front. The man followed. “No, Peter, thank you,” he chuckled. He grabbed his coffee from the counter and sat down at one of the tables. “Did the arrangement work out okay?” Peter asked innocently. If this man was working together with his boss, it was probably smart to stay kind. Though, that wasn’t all that hard, somehow. There was something about him that lured Peter in- made him feel warm and at home. The man grinned even wider while placing his sunglasses on the table. “Perfect.” His smile turned sour after he took a large sip from his coffee. “Is- is something wrong?” “Eh, no. I’m not one for overly sweet coffees.” Peter swallowed a sassy reply. If he didn’t like Frappuccinos, why would he order one? “Would you like me to make you another one?” “Still got that black coffee there?” “Yes, Sir.” “Very good.” The man left, just as hoped, a big tip and walked out the door with a promise. “See you next week.” Somehow, that made Peter’s stomach tingle. He did want to see the man again. There was something mysterious about him. Alluring. Their conversations were interesting and surprisingly eloquent. The man was very smart and Peter found himself loosening up more as the chat went on. The man let him. It was nice. That night, when Peter wanted to message a friend, he wondered when he added “TS” in his contact list. He didn’t recognize the number, but he couldn’t be bothered to look it up either. From then on, every Tuesday at two PM on the dot, the man walked in. Mister McDougall was always nervous about his arrival and usually fled to the back, leaving Peter to take care of the customer. But more often than not, he’d leave Peter in charge of the store entirely, leaving for appointments or errands whenever the man was bound to come in. Peter learned the man’s name is Tony and their conversations were always pleasant. Interesting. They talked about Peter’s life, mostly. Tony always managed to make everything about the college student, earning his cash as a barista. Peter didn’t mind, but he couldn’t help that he was curious. Tony offhandedly said he worked in real estate, when Peter asked. That and ‘some other things.’ He learned Tony was a tinkerer and a scientist in his free time. That he enjoys fixing up old cars, modern art and what he called ‘a good fuck.’ The comment had Peter blush a bright red. A blush Tony would always compliment whenever it crept up to his ears. Something about Tony drew Peter in. Maybe it was their casual conversation. Maybe it was his compliments. Maybe even his smile? Though, Peter’s smile always faltered as soon as other customers came in, since Tony would usually leave the store when they did. One day, the customers appeared to be his employees. And they all stayed. Two men, both tall and wide. One was blond, clean shaven and the other had slightly longer brown hair and a trimmed beard. “So, this is your Tuesday retreat, boss?” the blond quipped before ordering an americano. “Shouldn’t you be working?” Tony sassily replied, leaning back in his chair. “Coffee break,” the brown haired man said simply. Tony scoffed and waved it off. The three men were awfully picky about what they said and how they said it, Peter could tell, but that might just be private business stuff, so he didn’t pry. After they finished their drinks and walked out the door, Peter blushed again when the brown-haired man spoke. “That sure was a good coffee. I’d come here every Tuesday too, if I knew I’d be served by such a good lookin’ young man.” The compliment was paired with a wink. The door closed and Peter laughed softly to himself when Tony gave the brown-haired man a gentle slap at the back of his head to scold him. … One Tuesday, Peter called in sick. He lived to regret that. Mister McDougall was furious, but Peter couldn’t help that he was down with the flu and he didn’t want to make other customers sick. Especially not the man he’d grown to like so much. He got a text, later. TS: Are you okay? Peter: Who is this? TS: Tony. TS: Black coffee Tony. Peter: Oh! Peter: Sorry, I wasn’t at the shop today. Caught the flu, I think. Hope not worse. Glued to bed rn. TS: Got it bad? Peter: Can barely stand, tbh. Coughing a lot and it sounds weird. Don’t wanna make anyone sick. TS: That’s sweet. Peter: Just lookin out for the little guy. TS: I’m not little. Peter: Didn’t meant it like that, omgg, im sorry! TS: I’m messing with you. Peter: Ohh 🙈 It was quiet for a little bit, and Peter nearly fell asleep again if it weren’t for his screen lighting up. TS: Can I get you anything? Peter: I’ll be okay, I promise. I’ll be fine. I mean it. TS: Peter. Tony wasn’t even in the same room as Peter, yet he knew exactly how Tony would’ve said his name if he were. Peter: I’m a college student. Meds are out of the picture. Don’t have much cash. TS: I do. And after not even half an hour, there was a doctor on Peter’s doorstep to check on him. Pneumonia in its early stages. A few days of antibiotics and he should be good as new. He wasn’t sure how Tony knew his address, but figured he got it from Mister McDougall. True to the doctor’s words, Peter was up and running again in a few days and on Tuesday, two PM on the dot, Tony walked into the shop with a wide grin and spread arms. “Good afternoon to my favorite barista,” he quipped. Peter grinned and cocked his head. “Good afternoon to my favorite customer.” “Oh,” Tony gasped, placing his palm on his chest. “You flatter me.” “Do I? With the tips you leave, everyone must like to see you.” “Most rather see me go, trust me.” Tony loudly cleared his throat and evaded Peter’s gaze to collect himself, before he casually leaned over the counter. “Black.” His coffee order is followed by his usual command. “Make it last.” “All I do is press a button, Sir, it’s pretty hard to make a black coffee last.” Peter laughed quietly as he started rubbing a cloth over the counter to clean it while the coffee set. “Then make yourself what you like.” Peter stared at Tony for a second before turning to grab another, taller cup. “Would you laugh if I said it’s a caramel Frappuccino.” He licked his lips. “With extra whipped cream?” “No,” Tony replied immediately. His voice was lower. Darker. Hotter. “It fits you.” “Does it?” Peter chuckled as he handed Tony the black coffee. “Overly sweet,” Tony said with a nod, toasting and raising the cup to his lips. He glanced at Peter and then repeated himself. “It fits you.” Peter slowly moved around the bar, preparing his own Frappuccino. “Thought you didn’t like caramel Frappuccinos?” “I like you.” Peter didn’t halt his movements as he worked himself around the coffee machines, though, his body went at a whole different speed than his brain. Did Tony actually just say that? “I think I like you too.” The reply had left Peter’s lips before he could even process the thought. “You think?” This time, Peter stopped. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” It was barely a whisper. His hand was stuck on the lever and he bit his lip. “Wha- dating?” Peter opted to ignore the implication of what Tony just said and instead, replied honestly. “Flirting.” “Oh, pretty boy, you’ve got a lot to learn. And experience.” Goosebumps spread over Peter’s body at Tony’s words and he closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was because he felt embarrassed or… Something else. This was the first time Tony called him anything like this and it felt like they both stepped over some sort of threshold they had both been ghosting by for a while now. Tony brought him back to the present with his trademarked sniff. “I have no need to rush things. If you’re interested, we’ll take it slow.” Peter finally turned his head to look at Tony with big eyes. Tony just smirked and quipped with a wink. “We’ll make it last.” … Peter: You up? It was two AM. Two Tuesdays later. Tony had become a lot more flirty and a lot more forthcoming with his sweet words and suggestive praise after they addressed their interest in each other. Most of it was via text, but whenever he was at the store, Peter could see Tony’s dilated pupils, could feel the man’s hot breath as Peter explained how one of the machines worked with Tony right behind him. He admired Tony for holding back too. He knew Peter wanted to take things slow, heck, he even suggested it. And he never snapped. Never broke. Never did anything out of line. Sure, his words were suggestive, but he never acted upon any primal needs. He was a gentleman. And it made Peter respect him even more. It also made him want Tony even more. Peter bathed himself in the compliments Tony peppered him with and Peter realized the man knew everything he said and did made Peter… Needy. Peter was fairly sure Tony was already asleep, but after all the sweet and… slightly filthy things the man had been saying to him that day, he couldn’t help himself, he had to jerk off. And he needed Tony to help him with that. TS: Been working. You’re up late. Don’t you have uni tomorrow? Peter sighed gratefully as he typed one handed, the other already creeping down to cup his half-hard shaft through his sweatpants. Peter: I do. TS: Hm. TS: Then why would you message me so late, huh? Peter wanted to scoff. Of course, Tony knew. The man just wanted Peter to say it. And… Peter kind of liked it. No matter how embarrassing. He typed and erased. And typed and erased. Typed and erased. He really wanted to send Tony what he wanted, but he felt like too much of a chicken to actually say it. He needed Tony’s sweet words. His… His filth. Peter: I’m,, eh… TS: Hm? Peter: Talk to me like you do in the shop? Please? TS: How I talk to you in the shop is a lot tamer than what I think you need right now. Peter hid his face in his pillow for a second, before taking a deep breath and finding the courage to reply. Peter: What do I need then? TS: You need me. Without a filter. But before I tell you anything… Where are you right now? What are you wearing? Talk to me, first. Peter: Alone. Bedroom. Bed. Sweat pants. T-shirt. TS: Turn off autocorrect, baby, how am I supposed to know you’re losing yourself if I see full words? Peter: happyy now? TS: Yes. One-handed, huh? Already touching yourself? Peter: mhm, thruogh fabric. TS: Alright, first things first, pretty thing, take off all your clothes. TS: Make it last. Peter complied immediately and he both loved and hated the slow movements he used to slide off his shirt. When his sweatpants were down on his knees, his screen lit up. TS: Are you making it last? Peter: yes TS: Good boy. Peter didn’t expect to moan so loud, but he did. The praise blasted through him and went straight to the cock that now rested against his abdomen. Stiff. Twitching. Leaking. Peter: say thatagain TS: Earn it. Peter: how TS: By being good for me, my sweet. Are you naked? Peter: almost TS: Let me know when you’re done. Peter was almost afraid that when he finally finished undressing after another minute, it was still too fast for Tony. He decided to make the jump, though. Peter: done TS: Lovely. Hard, baby boy? Peter let out a soft growl and was already struggling to type. Peter: ys, for you TS: Touch yourself for me. Go on, hump the hand you make my coffee with, Peter. It felt perfect – absolutely perfect – to wrap his fingers around his cock, now that he was doing it on demand. He couldn’t even hold back if he tried. His thrusts were relentless, straight away. Peter: Yyes yes TS: Oh, I wish I could see how pretty you look right now. How you roll your hips and fuck your fist. TS: Want to see the sweat drip from your temples, want to hear your soft gasps and moans. TS: Want to hear my name fall from your lips. Say my name, Peter. Say it. “Tony- O-oh-“ Peter gasped and he barely managed to keep his eyes open to watch the next few messages come in. TS: Don’t come. Not yet. TS: Slow down. Peter: nn tony please TS: Make. TS: It. TS: Last. Peter felt the tears stream down his cheeks. He felt so good. But he couldn’t come. Not with Tony right here with him telling him not to. Peter: yes sir TS: Good boy. Peter: feelsso good when u callme that TS: Mm. It does, doesn’t it? You know what makes me feel good? Peter: ?/ TS: When you call me Sir. A dreamy smile spread across Peter’s face as he lazily stroked his cock. His hips kept rolling, arching his back and lifting off the mattress with each thrust. His intellect had melted away. All he wanted was to feel good for Tony. TS: You know what else would make me feel really good? Peter: nno? Sir TS: If my good boy called me Daddy. Peter had to stop his hand or he would’ve cum right then and there. And he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He simply had to make it last. Instead, he moaned obscenely. Peter: ggod, nearlu came TS: Did you now? Peter: yes daddy Peter: held back TS: Oh, you’re so sweet for me. Wish I could taste that awful Frappuccino on your lips. Suckle on your tongue as I squeeze your cock, run my thumb over the head. TS: You have no idea how much I want to make you come for me. Peter: wanna cum for u Peter: faster?????????????/ TS: Speed up, baby. Show Daddy how desperate you are for him. Such a good boy for asking permission. The fact that Tony’s messages were still put together as opposed to Peter’s near button-mashes had another rush of arousal flow through Peter. Everything about what was happening was so hot. He’d never done anything like this before. He never even had sex in his life. And now the hottest man in New York was sexting him. God, he wished he could see Tony right now. Was he naked too? Was he stroking himself? Maybe he was fingering himself. Or fucking himself on a dildo so he still had two hands to type his coherent sentences with. Shit, that’d be so hot. Though, the image of Tony at his desk, working while casually messaging Peter all these things as if it’s just a regular chat about their day was even hotter. Tony, in his tailored suit, barely bothered by Peter’s desperation. Fuck. Peter: Yes yys ddaddy thanku TS: Mhm. It didn’t take long for Peter to get near the edge again. He was barely able to contain himself, phone shaking in his hand with every jerk of his other fist. Peter: close TS: Are you now? Peter: ya TS: Do you want to come? Peter: eys yes so badsoo bad TS: What do good boys say when they want to come? Peter squeezed his eyes shut, gasping and writhing on his sheets. His toes curled as he whined and begged while typing. “P-please-“ he muttered. “Please, please, please-“ Peter: pleease TS: Please, what? That’s it, Peter couldn’t type anymore. Didn’t want to type anymore. Instead, he hit the voice record button. “D-daddy, wanna cum, I wanna cum so bad, please, may I?” His lines were paired with moans and sobs. Desperation dripped from every word. Every thrust of his hips, every squeeze of his fingers, had him see stars. He had to come, he simply had to. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Lucky for Peter, it didn’t take long for Tony to reply with a voice message of his own. His deep, dark voice, coated with lust, like fresh honey, echoed through Peter’s simple bedroom. “Come, Peter. Come for Daddy.” … As time went on, Peter realized that Mister McDougall didn’t like to have Peter around anymore. Every chore he had to do, every command he had to follow, everything McDougall asked of him; he was never good enough. Peter felt like a nuisance. And he wanted out. He felt a weight fall off his shoulders when an on campus lab learned of Peter’s skills and offered him a job. So now, a few weeks after Peter and Tony started sexting, Peter told Mister McDougall he wanted to quit. “You can’t,” was the short reply. It had Peter nearly explode with frustration. “I can, though? I got a job offer in one of the labs on campus, I’m not letting this fly by!” Mister McDougall grabbed Peter’s shoulders and dragged him to the back by his shirt. He nearly flung the young man against the large dishwasher. “You’ll ruin me! You’ll get me killed!” “Don’t be so dramatic!” Peter yelled back. He was done working for Mister McDougall. So done. Peter swallowed his next words when a knife was suddenly pointed at his nose. He stared at it wide-eyed as he got ushered into a corner. “Tony owns this building, Peter, and the only reason I’m allowed to stay here is because you work here.” “Wha-“ “SHUT UP! You shut your mouth! I’d have fired you ages ago if it weren’t for him!” Tears pricked in the corners of Peter’s eyes. “If you leave, I’m going to pay your aunt a visit. And none of us will like what I’ll do to her.” What was happening? What was going on? Why did his boss threaten him like this? “S-sir?” “You’re not quitting, you hear me? You’re gonna get your ass back on the floor and you’re gonna do your job. As long as Tony doesn’t hate you, I can keep this business. You don’t want me to lose this business do you?” He waved the knife, pushing it towards Peter’s left eye and resting the tip right below it. The young man leaned back as far as the wall allowed him to. “Do you?!” Peter didn’t even dare to blink. “No, sir,” he lied. “Why are you so scared of him?” Mister McDougall laughed maniacally. “Why aren’t you?!” He yelled. “That’s Tony Stark! He owns sixty percent of New York!” The world stopped spinning. Tony - Peter’s Tony - is Tony Stark. The biggest, baddest Mafia Boss of New York. Known to be vile, relentless and cruel to anyone who dares to cross his path. And Peter… Peter had fallen in love with him. No. No, he didn’t. He fell in love with Tony. Not with Stark. But if they were one and the same, maybe the stories were wrong? Maybe- “You didn’t know?” Mister McDougall stepped back and let his arm down. Peter finally allowed himself to breathe, even if it was the worst intake of air he’d ever done. He held back his tears with everything he had. “No.” “Jesus Christ.” Mister McDougall threw his hands up, flailing the knife around. “You’re an idiot!” “But-“ A quiet beep came from McDougall’s wrist. He looked at his watch and turned. “Two minutes, Peter- hurry up!” Mister McDougall’s high pitched command reverbs through the coffee shop. In two minutes, it’ll be two PM on the Tuesday afternoon. Peter’s been working here for three years now. Just yet, he tried to quit, but that wasn’t taken kindly. He can still feel the eerie presence of the tip of a knife on his cheekbone. How Peter got himself stuck in this job is a long story. A very long one. “Get to work.” Peter swallowed and blinked away his tears as he walked into the front of the store. He took a deep breath and fumbled with some of the cups on the counter. Mister McDougall stayed in the back, as usual. Peter looked up, startled, when the bell rang. Tony walked in, blissfully unaware and leaned on the counter like he always did. Peter was bad at hiding his fear, he knew that, and it didn’t even take a second before Tony caught on. “Did you cry?” His question was blunt. Straight to the point. “I’m alright, I hit my head.” Peter had to pause to clear his throat in the middle of his sentence. His words were small. Unsure. Tony didn’t buy it. “Who hurt you?” A shiver ran up Peter’s spine. He couldn’t tell Tony about what Mister McDougall did to him. As much as he disliked the man, he didn’t want the deadliest man in the area to… To hurt him. Peter didn’t dare think of the k word. But more importantly, he didn’t want anything to happen to May. “Me,” Peter tried to sound cheerful, but his voice shook. “I hit my head. I hurt me.” Peter finished up the black coffee and turned to give it to Tony, so he could start making his own Frappuccino. Tony wanted to take his hand, but Peter swiftly turned around. He played the machine to make his own drink, but he couldn’t focus. He couldn’t make it last. He had to get it done. As fast as possible. He had to get this over with. Tony spoke, but Peter didn’t hear it. He could already feel the tears threatening to glide down his cheeks. He couldn’t pretend. He couldn’t- Tony grabbed Peter’s wrist from over the counter and the Frappuccino cup slipped from the barista’s fingers. Peter stared wide-eyed at how the scorching hot liquid gushed onto Tony’s suit. The stain was evident, but Tony seemed unfazed by the heat. Peter’s lip trembled and he was certain there was no oxygen left in the store. He had spilled his coffee on the suit of the most dangerous man in New York City. Peter barely dared to look up, but when he saw Tony’s expression, his shoulders fell. The way the man looked at him was… Vulnerable. “You’re afraid.” Tony’s voice was fragile. “Of me?” Peter squeezed his eyes shut, letting the tears flow freely now. He screwed up. He screwed everything up. “I don’t know,” Peter replied honestly, through quiet sobs. Tony swiftly jumped over the counter so he could embrace Peter. “Talk to me, Bambino.” “I- I didn’t know-“ “Didn’t know what?” “S-Stark-“ “Yes, Frappuccino, that’s me.” “Did you just call me-“ “Yes, did it make you feel better?” Peter scoffed, but managed to smile. “A little.” Tony then pushed Peter away from him to force the young man to look him in the eye by holding Peter’s chin between his thumb and index finger. “Did you really not know?” Now Peter feels stupid. He should’ve caught on, obviously. Everybody knew Tony Stark. Peter pushed his lips together and gently shook his head. “Oh, bother,” Tony mumbled as he pulled Peter against his chest to hug him tightly. Peter’s insides were in a struggle. Every part of his rational brain told him to get out of there. To push Tony away. The man was bad news. He reeked of danger, yet… He smelled so wonderful. His cologne invaded Peter’s nostrils and there was no way the young man could let go of him. The way his arms were wrapped around Peter’s shoulders, the way he held him, kept him warm and safe... No matter how frightening Tony might be, Peter felt protected. He was exactly where he was supposed to be. Peter’s face was pressed against Tony’s shirt and he could feel the wet coffee stain from Tony’s suit seep onto his own pants. A hand found its way into Peter’s hair and gently started massaging his scalp. The soft lips Peter had only imagined up until now, pressed themselves onto his curls and stayed there, leaving long, slow pecks. Sometimes, Tony hummed. With every passing second, Peter’s muscles relaxed more and more until his body practically went limp against Tony’s. “Now…” The man finally spoke. He gently pushed Peter away from him until he could look Peter in the eyes, hands cupping his face. His thumb gently stroked away the drying tears and he smiled kindly. “Who hurt you?” Peter’s pouting lips were pressed together. He tried to hide the truth, but one quick glance towards the back and Tony knew enough. “Please, don’t kill him,” Peter whispered. Tony scoffed softly. “Is that why you’re suddenly afraid of me?” Tony pushed forward slightly, until something long and hard pressed against Peter’s thigh. And it wasn’t Tony’s cock. “Cause I’m not just happy to see you?” Peter whimpered and closed his eyes, still not wanting to leave Tony’s embrace, even though he was afraid of what might happen next. “Do you know why I own 64.7 percent of New York?” Peter shook his head lightly, focusing his attention on Tony’s warm hands still keeping his face up by his cheeks. “Because I don’t just shoot whoever gets in my way. I give people a chance,” Tony said matter of factly. “Take your boss, for example. This building? It’s mine.” The way Tony enunciated the word, not just verbally but also with a soft squeeze of his hands, had a shiver run down Peter’s spine. “Ex-gambling addict who wanted to get back on track. Promising fellow. Clean for years. He loaned a chunk of my money to start his business. All was good. A thriving coffee store can make quite a bit of money in this area in New York. During my first visit I learned that not everything I offered him went into this shop. Told him I wanted the money back that he didn’t spend on the store. He also couldn’t pay rent. Somehow.” Peter breathlessly listened to everything that came out of Tony’s mouth. “I gave him another shot. Told him to have my money ready in a month. That’s a fair time to make what he owed me. And when I came into the store to collect… I found you. And your boss? Well, he wasn’t exactly at a convention. He was at the other side of the country, though. In Vegas.” Tony sighed and broke eye contact for a few seconds. “This is where it gets embarrassing…” He mumbled. “Embarrassing?” “I was completely enamored by you, Peter.” Tony’s eyes reconnect with Peter’s and they lock gazes. “And I decided that, when you called McDougall, I’d change the deal. He’d get a delay on his debt as long as you would be there to serve me coffee. On Tuesdays. At two PM. Figured you’d stick around for a while, give McDougall enough time to cover his ass.” “So,” Tony cocked his head. “After half a year, he still doesn’t have my money. And I’m guessing you want to quit the job?” Peter nodded, face contorting. “He had a knife and-“ “A knife?” The energy in the room changed abruptly. From loving and caring to dark and aggressive. Peter immediately pulled back, but Tony’s grip on him tightened. “He threatened you?” He seethed. “No- Tony, please,” Peter begged, but he didn’t fight. “Is he in the back?” Tony stared Peter down with an intense gaze. The young barista froze. “Peter.” “Yes.” Peter felt small, yet his body betrayed him when his cock stirred at Tony’s authoritative voice. Tony guided Peter to one of the chairs and gently sat him down. His hands caressed Peter’s curls before he pressed another kiss on top of them. He bent down until he squatted in front of Peter and looked up reassuringly. “I will not physically harm him, I promise. I just want to have a word with him, okay?” “Okay…” Tony smiled and nodded before standing up and making his way towards the back. Before he disappeared, Tony looked behind him one more time and winked at Peter. Probably to relieve the tension. Not long after Tony went to the back, Peter was startled by the doorbell. He looked up and quickly collected himself before greeting the customer, wiping the remainder of his dried tears away. “Good afternoon, Sir, how can I help you?” Peter barely managed to put up his customer smile. The man was a bit scruffy looking, dark haired and he had a slight beard. There was a strange look in his eye. Peter wanted to walk around the counter to his usual spot to take the order, but the man stopped him. “Hold it there.” Peter paused his trek and turned back to the man with a questioning look. The man suddenly bolted for him, but Peter realized too late he was holding something in his hand. Peter tried to yell but before any sound could leave his mouth, it was covered by a damp cloth. His eyes went wide as he stared straight into the other man’s. He had no choice but to inhale the strange and intense, sweet scent of whatever was in that piece of fabric. The man didn’t smile, nor did he look angry. He seemed rather indifferent. The man’s other arm wrapped around Peter’s body, right before he lost the strength in his muscles and dropped against the man’s chest. Peter’s mind suddenly felt over-stuffed with fuzz and it was only a few seconds before his muffled scream died out and his eyes rolled back. Right when Peter lost himself, the man spoke softly, with a mocking tone, before carrying him out of the coffee shop. “Night night.” … Peter’s head felt like it was going to burst. He could barely open his eyes, but the hand that pulled him back at his hair in the uncomfortable chair forced him to wake up. He gasped for air, squinting his eyes into slits in the bright light. “Wakey, wakey.” A dark voice echoed through the room, ringing Peter’s ears. He finally managed to open his eyes when the light was blocked by a shape. A person. “Eh…” A soft whine escaped Peter’s lips, but the sound wasn’t taken kindly. The person- man- yanked at his hair, causing Peter to wince in pain. The man was bald, but had a thick beard. A scowl pulled the strangers bushy eyebrows together and Peter’s entire body tensed when he spotted the gun in the man’s other hand. “So…” The man leaned in and cocked his head. “All this trouble for a twink.” Peter tightened his jaw even further and kept his lips glued together. The man quite forcefully let go of Peter’s hair, allowing Peter to take in his surroundings. They were in a plain room, nothing too interesting. Peter could hear seagulls outside. They were probably close to water? The door was guarded by two imposing looking men, one of them Peter recognized as the guy who took him out. In the darkness of the room, a camera seemed to be recording them, judging by the red light flickering in the corner. “Barista,” Peter mumbled, staring at the gun in the guards’ hands.. “Excuse me?” The man pushed into Peter’s space again, seemingly offended. Peter held his breath, but replied anyways, eyes locking with the bald man’s. “I’m just a barista.” “Just a-“ the man interrupted himself, put his hands on his hips and leaned back, letting out an over the top laugh. When he finally calmed himself again, he bolted forward, pressing the gun against Peter’s neck. The young man instinctively tilted his head up, eyes wide at the unexpected aggression. “You,” the man spit out accusingly. “Tony seems to think more of you.” “He doesn’t,” Peter bluffed, silently swearing at himself for his reckless bravery. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. “I just make his coffee. Black. Every Tuesday.” “Right,” the man scoffed and revealed Peter’s unlocked phone from his inner pocket. “And does just making his coffee include a happy ending?” “N-no-, it’s-“ “Nighttime sexting? Then?” The man sauntered around Peter, casually scrolling through Tony’s and Peter’s chat. “Was hoping to find some intel, but all I got was your disgusting conversations.” Peter swallowed hard. He angled his head to look down so that he wouldn’t have to meet the man’s judging eyes. “I’m not gonna lie,” the man sighed. “Those voice messages? Your moans? They’d rile up anyone.” Peter gently tugged at his restraints, pressing his eyes shut. To say he was afraid of what the man could and might do to him was an understatement. The thought alone paralyzed him. There was a pressing ache in his chest and a growing need to get out of there. If only he could move. “What do you want from me,” Peter managed to push out. The man chuckled darkly. “I want at least 75% of what Stark has.” The man stopped circling Peter to gently push the tip of his gun through the young man’s hair- toying with it. “And you’re going to make sure he gives it to me.” “As if,” Peter replied simply, immediately swallowing his confidence. It now weighs heavy in his stomach. One short glance at the guards made them leave the room. They shut the door behind them and Peter couldn’t help but hold his breath. “Tell the camera-“ The man gestured at the red flashing dot. “-Tell Tony- what to do. If he doesn’t give me what I want, I will take what he wants most.” Peter looked up at the man confused, but the man’s smirk made the student’s legs burst with adrenaline. He wanted to run away, but he couldn’t. He’s bound. The man’s eyes sparkled and turned to slits. The wide toothy grin plastered on his face had Peter’s heart drop. “You.” “Oh, don’t worry about that ol’ camera.” A familiar voice said from the door opening. Peter and the man turned their heads towards it surprised. There, Tony lazily stood against the door post, the two men that Peter had met one Tuesday accompanying him. The guards that were there before were now laying on the floor. Peter quietly hoped they were nothing more than unconscious. “You can ask me, right here, right now, Stane.” Tony absentmindedly studied the pistol in his hand, turning and twisting it. Loading it. “Tsk. Answer’s gonna be no, though.” He moved to stand up straight, confidence oozing off every inch of him. “I’m here to take back what’s mine.” A shiver ran down Peter’s spine and he gulped when the gun that was still aimed at him pushed under his jaw. He dropped his head backwards in an attempt to get away from it and whined quietly. Peter’s breath quivered and he squeezed his eyes shut again. “If you want your boy to live, you’re gonna do exactly what I want.” “Hmm.” Tony grinned. “If you put a bullet in his head, I’m not even gonna use my gun.” He squared up, tightening every muscle in his body. The look in his eye was dark and resolute. “Will let you pick how you go, though. Could snap your neck- stick a knife through your brain. Wiggle it around a little to make your corpse spasm. Heck, I’ll rearrange your guts first if you want me to. Bet that’ll feel real nice.” Peter could barely believe the words falling from the man’s lips were Tony’s. Apparently, neither could the guy Tony called Stane. “You’re all talk, Stark. Never seen you hurt a damn fly, that’s what you got your goons for,” Stane sneered accusingly. “First time for everything,” Tony replied collected. Stane then pulled loose the ropes around Peter’s body and pulled him up, forcing him to stand with his back flush against the man’s chest. Stane wouldn’t allow him to stand comfortably, keeping him up on his toes as the nuzzle of the gun pressed up under his chin. As free as the lack of ropes made Peter feel, the presence of the gun annihilated any feeling of liberty. “Obadiah, I swear to mother Maria, if you so much as leave a scratch on Peter, you will regret it.” Stane didn’t seem fazed by Tony’s threats. He had the upper hand after all. He had Peter. “We’re leaving now. Don’t think I won’t shoot. I will.” Peter complied the nudge in his back, taking small steps in the direction of the door. Obadiah moved the gun until it rested against Peter’s temple. “Step into the room.” Tony’s jaw tightened, but after a few seconds he cast his eyes downward, entering the space. His bluffing hadn’t worked and the soft shaking of his clenched fist betrayed his frustration. He genuinely seemed afraid to lose Peter. In return, Peter was afraid to lose him. The two men Tony had brought with him, joined him silently. When they were all far away enough from the door, Obadiah shuffled Peter to the opening. They reached the hallway and Stane forced Peter to step over the – hopefully – unconscious guards. All Peter could think was ‘No-no-no-no-‘ at the mere idea of being taken to another location. One Tony might not be able to find him at. One he might actually die at. Peter took a deep breath and decided to do something reckless. He could only die once anyways. The second Obadiah pulled the gun back a little to give Peter more walking space, the barista ducked away from the gun, pivoted on his feet and pushed Stane back into the wall with all the force he had. There was a gunshot. One that had Peter’s eyes go wide. With the lack of pain or blood, Peter realized Stane had missed. Adrenaline pumped through his body at an incredibly rapid pace. Peter fell backwards on his ass and saw Obadiah’s gun that had been dropped in the process. The student scrambled to grab it in a reflex. He pushed himself back against the wall, knees up, eyes unblinking and wide, as he aimed the gun two-handedly at Stane who laid there with his hands up. The feral look in Peter’s eye told the small gang leader enough. No matter how scared, this kid would shoot if he had to. Peter couldn’t blink. He just couldn’t. He barely heard the footsteps next to him. Barely felt a hand rest on his shoulder, as another lifted to be placed on Peter’s shaking hands, holding the gun. All Peter could do was stare at Obadiah, stinging tears nearly obstructing his view. His breathing was quick and erratic and he didn’t realize how much he was vibrating until Tony’s voice pushed through the veil, clouding his mind. “I need you to let go of the gun for me.” Peter only clutched the weapon tighter, his finger twitched on the trigger. His breathing was loud and fast, making his entire body buzz with tension. “Boss, he’s in shock, he won’t-“ “Peter,” Tony said a little softer. “I’m right here, Frappuccino, look at me.” The hand that was on his shoulder before, now cupped Peter’s chin, gently forcing him to turn his head. Peter’s eyes didn’t leave Obadiah, though. He held his breath, hearing his heartbeat thump in his brain. “Peter…” For the first time in what felt like forever, Peter blinked, which caused the tears that had been threatening to spill up until now to glide down his cheeks. He found himself staring at Tony’s face as his body slowly lost tension. The man’s brows were furrowed, but his expression was soft. He carefully took the gun out of Peter’s hands and pulled him in for an embrace. Peter hid his face against the man’s chest and couldn’t help but sob into it, adding another stain to Tony’s expensive suit. “Oh, Peter.” Tony’s voice was muffled against Peter’s hair. “You’re okay, we’re okay.” Just like he did earlier that day in the coffee shop, his fingers tangled in Peter’s hair and started massaging his scalp. “You’re with me now, ‘s all good.” Another time, Peter would’ve been embarrassed for being pulled into Tony’s lap in front of all these strangers, but right now he couldn’t care less. His arms wrapped tightly around Tony’s torso as the man left his dragged out, flat kisses on Peter’s head. “M-sorry,” Peter mumbled between sobs, curling up into Tony’s embrace and tugging in his legs. “Sorry-“ “Ssh, ssh- you have nothing to be sorry for, my sweet.” They stayed like that for a short while, Tony rocking Peter back and forth until his heartbeat settled and his muscles relaxed. Eventually, Tony stood up, carrying Peter bridal style. “Let me take you home.” … Peter woke up among the softest of silk sheets, surrounded by an abundance of throw pillows, wearing nothing but his underwear and an oversized white T-shirt with a V-neck. Everything smelled like Tony. Peter groaned at the stiffness of his muscles and turned around, half surprised by Tony sitting on an armchair next to the large canopy bed. “Morning, sunshine,” he said with a smile. Tony was wearing sweats and a similar T-shirt. The corners of Peter’s mouth curled up too and he instinctively folded into himself, pulling the sheets up to his chin. “Morning.” “How are you feeling?” Tony leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Little stiff,” Peter answered honestly. As if on cue, his stomach growled. “And hungry.” “My cook’s making us breakfast as we speak. Should be here soon.” “I knew you were rich, but a personal chef?” Peter chuckled. “Isn’t that a bit overkill?” “Look, kid,” Tony laughed, sitting up straight again. “I don’t have time to make my own meals. I’m a busy man.” “Busy enough to visit me every Tuesday at two,” Peter teased, the sparkle in his eyes evident. Tony seemed relieved Peter was acting like his usual self. “Hey, hey,” he said, shaking his head. “I scheduled in that time. I always wanted you to have my undivided attention. That was my me-time.” Peter’s smile faltered. “Was,” he parroted quietly. There was no way he could go back to his barista job. To mister McDougall. Not that he particularly wanted to work for that man anymore, but it felt like this pleasant chapter of this life ended with a terrible cliffhanger. Now, Peter was at the start of the next chapter, going through the repercussions of what happened before. “Pete, I-“ “Where are we?” Tony seemed taken aback by the interruption, but collected himself swiftly. “Home,” Tony replied matter of fact. “My home, to be precise.” He cleared his throat and looked away uncharacteristically shyly. “Could be yours too if you want.” Peter didn’t reply straight away, which caused Tony to stand up and raise his hands in a defensive manner. “But we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves.” There was a knock on the door and Tony cocked an eyebrow at it. “Breakfast,” a muffled voice spoke. “Come in.” A man with a giant tray opened the door. He walked in quickly and placed it on the table next to Tony. “Take the rest of the day off. Paid leave. Tell the others the same, save for the guards outside. I want this house empty within an hour.” The cook nodded and thanked Tony for his generosity. Not long after, Peter and Tony were alone again. Peter stared at the over-filled tray and licked his lips. “Anything that tickles your fancy?” Tony’s words are accompanied with a smirk. “A coffee sounds good right about now.” Tony immediately perked up and turned to grab the carefully made Frappuccino, but before he could curl his fingers around the cup, Peter continued: “Actually-“ Tony looks at Peter surprised. Peter grins and nods at the other cup on the tray. “After everything that happened, I could go for something stronger.” “Peter Parker, are you taking my black coffee from me?” Tony chuckled. Peter pulled himself up so he sat up straight among the throw pillows. He then reached forward with both arms, making grabby hands at Tony. “Mayyybe,” he teased. Tony laughed as he complied, handing Peter the black coffee. Peter gratefully took a sip and pulled a face at the bitterness burning his throat. “Sure you don’t want the sugar, sugar?” Peter snorted and nearly spilled the coffee on the bed. He looked into the deep black of the cup in his hands and then up at Tony. “Fine,” Peter said with a grin, offering Tony the black coffee. Peter waited for the older man to give him the Frappuccino, but instead, Tony stood up. “Here,” he said, lifting the tray and placing it on the bedside table. “Mind if I join you?” Peter didn’t answer, he just lifted the sheets. Gratefully, Tony slid in, placing himself flush against Peter and handing him the Frappuccino. For a short while, they just sipped their coffees, not exchanging any words. Peter occasionally glanced at the food on the bedside table, unable to choose where he’d even start. He let go of his thoughts for a little bit, letting his mind wander to yesterday. To Obadiah Stane, to the rope burn on his wrists, the feel of the gun against his head, in his hand, the trigger under his finger. Tony. Tony was there to save him. “I’m here to take back what’s mine.” Peter was his. And while his rational brain was scared of this mob boss side of Tony that he only just learned about, there was something exhilarating about it too. Tony was still Tony- still the same man Peter made all these black coffees for, the man he had late night conversations with via text. Peter thought back to before he lost himself to sleep, how he was being cradled by Tony, sitting in his lap. The memory made him feel warm, somehow. Peter swallowed and took a breath. “I felt safe,” Peter whispered. “Hm?” Tony turned his head slightly and put down his now empty cup on the nightstand. “Yesterday.” Peter’s brows furrowed as he kept staring ahead. “In your lap.” He paused, trying to put his thoughts in a row and say something a bit more sophisticated. However, he couldn’t think of the right words, so he just repeated himself. “I felt safe.” It was quiet for a second. “Do…” Tony sniffed once and tugged at the tray on Peter’s side of the bed. “Do you want to sit on my lap now?” Peter’s mouth went dry, even though he just finished his coffee. The tension between them hung thick in the air. He looked at Tony wide-eyed, but quickly averted his gaze again. “Yes,” he mumbled, nothing more than a whisper. “What was that?” “Yes… Please?” “Good boy.” Peter shivered and closed his eyes, but only until he felt Tony gently pulling at his arm. He didn’t struggle as Tony guided him to sit on his thighs, back pressed against the older man’s chest. “Oh, Bambino,” Tony cooed as Peter’s ass pressed against Tony’s already hardening shaft. “Been through so much. Let me help you.” Peter wanted to ask what Tony meant, but the man had already taken the mug from Peter’s hands, placed it on the bedside table and grabbed a blueberry muffin from the breakfast tray. “Hold this,” he ordered, giving the muffin to Peter. Their hands grazed past each other, eliciting a small gasp from the younger man. Tony immediately moved to rip a small piece off of it and brought it up to Peter’s lips. Peter stared entranced at Tony’s rough hand. “Go on, my sweet,” Tony whispered into Peter’s hair. “Eat up.” Peter leaned in and opened his mouth. He carefully maneuvered himself in an attempt not to touch Tony’s fingers, not wanting to be weird or gross, but Tony had other plans. He pushed in his fingers to help the piece into Peter’s mouth and then brushed his fingers over Peter’s lips. Peter didn’t realize his eyes were closed, but there wasn’t much to see anyways- save for the lusciously decorated room. Peter was more occupied with feeling right now. And boy, did Tony’s lips on his neck feel absolutely perfect. He chewed slowly, savoring the sweet taste on his tongue. Tony’s free arm was possessively curled around Peter to caress his neck from the front, grazing past his Adam’s apple and gently squeezing right under his jaw until he swallowed. Tony presented Peter with another bite, but this time he really pushed his fingers in. Peter wrapped his lips around the digits and sucked, moaning softly. “That’s it…” Peter absentmindedly spread his legs on Tony’s lap, arching his back to grind into Tony’s groin. Tony’s other hand found its way down Peter’s body until it cupped Peter’s balls through his underwear. Peter immediately pushed into it and gasped at the gentle rubbing of Tony’s thumb. “Thaaat’s it…” Tony took his fingers out of Peter’s mouth, a small string of saliva dripping down, to take the muffin out of Peter’s hands, put it on the tray and then stick his fingers into the small bowl of jam. His other hand fondles Peter at a steady rhythm and Peter rolls his hips along with it. “Feeling good for Daddy, Peter?” The young man smiles lazily and nods, letting his head fall back against Tony’s shoulder. “Y-yes,” Peter whimpered. “Feels so good.” An overly sweet scent filled Peter’s nostrils. He opened his eyes to see Tony’s jam covered fingers. He stared at them transfixed, mouth already opening, tongue hanging out, ready to take it all. “Atta boy,” Tony whispered, suckling on Peter’s skin. “Don’t hold back. It’s all yours…” Peter didn’t hesitate and grabbed Tony’s hand with both of his own, pulling it toward him to lick the sweet strawberry jam off of Tony’s fingers. The fingers of one hand were curled around just the thumb, while the other gripped onto the man’s palm. “Don’t hold back,” Tony repeated with a squeeze of his hand around Peter’s clothed cock. The young man immediately moaned louder, pressing himself against Tony harder and licking the man’s fingers clean in a near-obscene manner. “Aren’t you a good boy?” Tony growled as he slowly started to push up against Peter’s ass. Peter groaned and clenched around nothing, working his way down Tony’s hand and suckling at the golden ring on his index finger. “Yours,” Peter gasped between licks. “Your good boy-“ Apparently those were the right words, because Tony let out a guttural moan and within seconds, they were flipped over with Peter lying on his back on the bed and Tony possessively hovering over him, caging Peter with his arms. Peter was met with Tony’s dark pools and twitching nose. There was something animalistic about the otherwise so collected man Peter had served coffee to. It had Peter’s cock throb with anticipation. Tony’s wet fingers pushed under Peter’s shirt to tweak and tug at one of his nipples. “Mine,” Tony pushed out, immediately moving in to ravage Peter’s lips himself, tasting the flavors Peter had only just taken in. Peter, in turn, could taste the bitter coffee. “My sweet.” Peter pulled at Tony’s shirt, quietly telling Tony he wanted them to get naked. The man seemed to understand and within a minute all clothes were discarded. Tony’s cock stood tall and proud and had a girth that had Peter drooling. He wanted it in his mouth. ASAP. “Eager, eager,” Tony chuckled darkly as he saw Peter’s eyes locked on the swaying dick in front of him. Peter’s gaze broke free and he gave Tony a pleading look. “Next time, my sweet.” Tony leaned in to give Peter a short, passionate kiss while his hands squeezed nearly half a lube bottle all over Peter’s groin, slicking him up as Tony massaged every inch of skin. Peter immediately granted Tony access into his mouth and Tony eagerly licked the insides. He pulled back again and grinned. “You first.” Tony’s free hand grabbed hold of Peter’s cock, squeezing it until Peter saw stars. His hips bucked up into Tony’s touch while his hands grabbed at the sheets in an attempt to ground himself as Tony’s hands pleasured him. He moaned with every loudly-squishing jerk of Tony’s hand, but it wasn’t going fast enough. “More-more-more, please, Daddy-“ Tony seemed pleased with the begging, because the hand at Peter’s nipple slowly travelled down his toned body, grabbing and coating itself with the excess lube. “Sure you want more?” Tony had a wicked grin on his face. “Cause I can give you everything.” He curled his tongue up to lick his own teeth. “If you think you can handle it.” “Yes,” Peter gasped, arching his back more, pressing his head into the throw pillows. “Please, please, want everything, want it all, want you-“ “Good answer.” Tony’s praise goes paired with him mercilessly pushing his index finger into Peter’s tight hole. The young man gasped at the sudden sting, but his expression turned to absolute bliss in an instant. He clenched and unclenched around Tony’s digit and soon enough, Tony started pulling out and pushing back in, curling his finger in the process, in search of Peter’s… Sweet spot. “God, yes, T-Tony, Daddy-“ Peter moaned as his body rocked under Tony’s attention. “Mr. Stark-!” Tony’s eyes went wide, revealing a previously unseen aggression behind them. His movements became more forceful and he lowered his face until it was right in front of Peter’s. “Yes, boy, call me that again. Do it.” “M-Mi-“ Peter squeezed his eyes shut, completely overwhelmed by all the sensations and the tightening knot in his abdomen. His balls were tight and his heartbeat throbbed everywhere. “Whose cock is this, Peter, tell me who it belongs to-“ Tony let his thumb glide over the tip of Peter’s cock as he quickened his pace and the intensity of his jerks. “Yours- Mr. Stark, it’s y-yours!” Peter’s reply was rewarded with Tony’s mouth sucking marks on Peter’s neck. “And this hole? Huh? Who does this belong to?” Right when Tony uttered the words, he found what he’d been looking for. Peter opened his mouth wide in a silent scream as his body convulsed. “Yes, yes, yours, yours-“ Tony attacked Peter’s prostate without remorse, not halting any movement. He was good at this and he owned it. He owned Peter. “And your mouth? Your chest and your arms and your legs and your neck-“ Tony cut his own rambles short by biting into the skin right below Peter’s jaw, eliciting another loud moan from him. “Mr. Stark’s, his- his, yours!” “That’s it, good boy, it’s all mine. You’re all mine!” “F-fuck, I’m gonna come, Mr. Stark- Please, please-“ Peter’s gasps were erratic. The complete polar opposite of Tony’s near robotic movements. Along the way, he had added two more fingers into Peter’s sopping hole and he kept pumping mercilessly, curling his fingers at just the right moment. The young man was practically folded in two on the bed, taking everything Tony was giving him. He’d never felt this good in his entire life and he basked in the hot sheen covering his body. All his fantasies, all their sexts, were now reality. Tony stayed true to his word. Everything he had promised Peter, he was now giving- almost forcing- upon the young man and he loved it. They both did. “So close, my sweet, stay on that edge for me, don’t tip over just yet-“ Tony growled. “Make...” The young man found himself humping into Tony’s fist, moaning at the trademarked line that had started falling from the mob boss’s lips. “It…“ Peter whined as his body shook, trying to hold onto the last bit of sanity that he had left before he would lose it all and spill. “Last…“ Every part of Peter’s being writhed and convulsed at the scorching pleasure pumping through him. He had to make it last. He had to wait. Had to drag it out. Felt so good. Too good. Yes, yes- yes! “That’s it… Just a little longer,” Tony encouraged. Peter’s eyes rolled back and to his dismay, Tony sped up even more. “Haaa-,” Every muscle in Peter’s body shook with tension, ready for that blissful release. “Yeees, good boy, such a good boy, hold on…” Tony’s breath was hot on Peter’s lips. His deep voice vibrated through Peter’s body, sending even more surges of arousal through him. “Open your eyes. Look at me.” Peter’s jaw was locked as his eyes fluttered open. He stared straight into Tony’s and the sight had his toes curl. “Come.” Peter’s vision went white at the intense eruption bursting from him. If he screamed, he didn’t hear himself. All he could do was experience it. White streaks covered his abdomen and Tony’s hand and the overstimulating sensation of his orgasm seemed to last forever. After who-knows-how-long, Peter came down from his high, panting and twitching on the mattress, body completely limp. Tony was lying next to him, whispering sweet praise into his ear and slowly bringing Peter back to reality with his calming voice and caressing hands. Peter blinked a few times, his vision sharpening again until Tony was completely in focus. The man smiled. “Good morning, sunshine,” he repeated himself. Peter chuckled and cuddled up against Tony’s chest. Tony immediately embraced him, tangling their legs together. “Morning,” Peter laughed softly. It was quiet for a minute while Peter cleared his mind, basking in the afterglow of what was the most intense orgasm he’s ever experienced. “Thank you,” he whispered against Tony’s body. The man kissed the top of Peter’s head, humming softly. “No, my sweet, thank you.” After another hour of cuddling together Peter shuffled back so he could look Tony in the eye. “We should probably get out, don’t we?” Tony smiled kindly, pressing his fingers through Peter’s curls. “Work can wait.” “I wasn’t talking about work…” There was a playful sparkle in Peter’s eyes. “I want to explore this place.” “Can’t we cuddle a little longer?” “I’ll stay naked,” Peter teased. “We’re alone anyways… And I’ll make you coffee?” “Are you trying to bribe me with coffee that requires pressing one button?” Tony teased right back. Peter moved to sit up straight and tossed the sheets on top of Tony. He jumped out of bed, his cock already hardening again and bouncing with every movement. Tony grinned and seemed to be enjoying this newfound confidence Peter had. “I don’t know, Mr. Stark, am I?” Peter sauntered towards the door and opened it swiftly, arching his back and showing off his toned body as he walked through. Tony’s cock, that had started softening up after not getting any attention last round, sprung back to life at the sight. “Could make the coffee last, but… I’m sure there are other rooms in this place where I could make it last?” Tony laughed positively wicked and crawled over the bed towards Peter. The young man squealed delighted and ran out into the hallway. Tony stepped out of the bed and started chasing his good boy through the mansion.

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cellophanejpeg · 5 years

Text

redamancy || din djarin x f!reader

Summary: You buy some art supplies for the Child to play and Din is worried about his precious ship getting scribbled all over.

a/n: based on this fanart that warmed my heart and it made me tear up. I’m so soft, very soft.

Warnings: very soft content, din takes his helmet off in this one but i guess foundlings and spouses are clear to see his face, right? mentions of sex

Word count: 2.3k

tagging: @loljulie @tarrevizslas @themandjalorian

part ii || masterlist

redamancy (n); the act of loving one who loves you, a love returned in full

You know you shouldn’t. You know Din is gonna get pissed at you. You know it’s not a good idea. But, as you slip the credits to the seller on the counter, there’s a content smile on your face. Thinking about the green little bean’s face when he gets his present, you grab what you just bought and rush back to the ship quickly.

Din had gone on a supply run in one of the most beautiful planets you’ve ever seen. The Ulara planet, known by its stunning oceans, brings a lot of artists around this time of the cycle. Naturally, a lot of merchants sell art supplies at the markets and you just couldn’t resist. Your inner mother self spoke louder and before you could think twice, you were buying some art supplies for the Child.

You meet the Mandalorian on the way to the ship, the hoovering cradle just behind him. Almost smiling to yourself, you try to control your breathing as if you were a kid that did a bad thing, afraid of being caught in the act.

“What did you get?” He asks, tilting his helmet towards you.

Holding the bag close to your chest, afraid he’s going to take it, you shrug.

“Just some stuff,” you answer, nonchalantly.

You’re not sure if he’s going to approve your recent purchase, so you don’t tell him. Maybe he won’t, but who cares? Can’t you spoil your adoptive child by giving him some toys to play?

Din says nothing as he opens the hatch door, allowing the three of you to enter the Razor Crest. You wait for him to climb the ladder to the cockpit before hiding the supplies in the bunk. You don’t want to give the little one the present yet, you want to be sure you’re not needed in the cockpit before.

“Hey, little bean,” You call him by the sweet nickname you’d given to him as you pick him up, smiling. “Did you have a fun time with your dad today?”

He coos and smiles at you, trying his best to answer you. Letting out a chuckle, you climb the ladder and enters the cockpit as Din starts up the ship.

“Buckle up,” he says, softly. You almost roll your eyes as you sit on the copilot’s seat. All those years together and he still tells you to fasten your seatbelt before he takes off. Every time.

Placing the kid on the cradle on the other copilot’s seat you, you do buckle up, smiling softly. Memories of when he had committed the sin, when he had taken the asset back invade your mind as you watch him pilot the Razor Crest silently.

He was ready to take off then, you eagerly sat on the very same chair you are sitting now, your mind going crazy and your heart clenching at the thought of the kid being taken away. Ever since Din came back to the ship, mud covered, back in Arvala-7, you knew something was up. You knew he had imprinted on the kid somehow. And it took you a hot minute to accept his decision to go back for him.

“Wait for me here,” He had mumbled to you as he walked out of the Crest. You were confused at first, but it took a millisecond for the penny to drop.

“Din, maybe you should think about this better.” You had tried to reason, but he had made up his mind. He stopped his tracks and looked back at you; you knew he was giving one of his looks, even behind the helmet.

“Do you trust me?” He had asked in a soft voice.

You parted your lips with your tongue, sighing. “Yes, but your reputation–”

“I don’t give a damn about my reputation.” He interrupted you. “All I care about now is that child. I have to keep him safe, I don’t know–”

His voice cracked and your heart dropped. Reaching for his gloved hand, you took it and gave it a squeeze. Taking a deep breath, you had touched your forehead with his helmet and closed your eyes. You knew the consequences of that decision, yet you had nodded anyway, giving him your approval. Not that he needed it, but making sure you were okay with his decisions was always his things. Because it always involved you and him. Together, as it has always been.

When he had come back with the kid, that night, the sight of relief that escaped your lungs surprised you. Now, you’re glad he decided to adopt the Child, cause your days are brighter and happier. Not that you weren’t before with Din. Obviously, you lived a happy life with him before the little green bean entered your life, but it got even better when he did.

“Did you find the scarf you were looking for?” Din’s voice brings you back to the present, referring to the scarf you wanted to buy for yourself. You had completely forgotten about it as soon as you saw the merchants with the art supplies.

“No, I didn’t,” You reply, shaking your head.

“Maybe in the next planet.” You can see him shrug through the poor light of the chamber.

Watching him handle the control panel, pushing buttons and pulling handles that make the ship jump to hyperspace, makes you smile. However, you’re too excited to show the kid what you got him, so you quickly unbuckle yourself and take the little one into your arms.

“I’m going to feed him,” you say over your shoulders, already leaving the cockpit.

Back at the hull, you place him on the cot of the ship and smiles at him.

“I got you something,” You tell him smiling. “But you have to keep it a secret for now, okay?”

The Child coos and smiles at you as you walk back to the bunk and presses the button to open the hatch. Taking the cloth bag from it, you pour all the contents on the cot before him. You bought crayons, chalks, coloring pencils and even some finger paint, along with some sheets of paper.

“You can draw with these,” you explain to him in a soft voice. Taking a yellow crayon you draw a smiling sun, showing him how to do it. He watches you, intensely paying attention to the movements of your hands. “See?”

You hand him the crayon and he takes it, curiously studying the object in his tiny hand. Your heart warms at the sight of him trying to replicate your smiling sun on the paper. Smiling, you grab one of the pots of paint and show it to him.

“Maybe we can get to try these later,” You say, smiling.

“Try what?” Din’s voice makes you jump on the spot and turn around quickly to face him. He’s standing before you, leaning on the ladder with crossed arms. “What’s all this?”

Swallowing, you smile at him, shrugging one shoulder. “Art supplies?”

Din tilts his helmet and you hear him sigh. You smile at him, taking a step further to approach him.

“I just saw these and I immediately thought of him,” You tell him, trying to explain. He knows you can barely contain the happiness in your voice. “I had to buy it, but I used my own money, don’t worry–”

He interrupts you by calling your name.

“It’s okay,” he assured you, running his hands on your arms. “I just worry he’s gonna paint the whole ship with these.”

A laugh escaped your lips as you look back to the kid. He discovered the other colored crayons and it’s drawing a beautiful piece of art containing several scribbles in different colors. Your smiling sun is nowhere to be seen, now covered by the several colors.

“Maybe we need a little redecorating,” You say, looking back at Din.

…

“Your dad’s gonna kill me.” You laugh as you watch the scene.

A few days later after you bought the art supplies, you find the Child using the finger paints to decorate the inside walls on the ship. You left him for one second to go to the refresher.

Walking towards him, you sit on the floor beside him, and dip your finger on the green paint and draw on the sheet of paper in front of you.

“Look, it’s you.” You show him a badly drawn portrait of him and he just giggles. His tiny hand, wet with paint, reaches for you as you take him in your lap.

The Child points to a drawing he did on the wall and, as you follow his finger, your heart warms at the sight. Two human figures hold hands with a green, smaller figure. One of the human figures has a comically large drawn helmet on and you want to laugh, but you hold back. You gasp softly and look back at him, smiling from ear to ear.

“Is that us?!” You exclaim, and he shrieks laughs. “You’re such an artist! How much do you want for it?” You only get coos from him. “Deal, a can of bone broth it is.” You take his tiny hand and shake it, simulating a handshake.

Behind you, you hear a soft chuckle that makes you turn around and look at the man who, again, was watching you both silently. You frown, but smiles at him nodding towards the wall.

“Come look at what your son’s done,” You say, watching as Din makes his way to you. He kneels to the floor and looks over the drawing on the wall. “That’s us.”

He doesn’t move for a second and you start to wonder if he’s getting mad because of the paint on the wall. But he just nods and says, with a cracked voice,

“That’s sweet.”

Biting back a smile, your heart swells at the thought of him getting teared up over the small family portrait. The baby giggles at him and stretches his little arms towards his father, who takes him almost immediately. Din holds him close to his face.

“You’re quite the painter, aren’t you?” He says in a very, very soft voice that makes your heart skip a beat.

You and Din had talked about having kids in a moment of your relationship. Once. You both had come to the conclusion that bounty hunting was a dangerous job and that a child in the middle of it would just complicate things. So you pushed these plans for another future, if he, one day, decided to settle down in a nice planet, maybe you could have a kid or two. Now, with the little one, it’s hard, you have admit. But it’s good. It fulfils your heart.

You’re not gonna lie to yourself and pretend you don’t think about having your own children with him, after watching how he takes care of the Child. But you never voice these thoughts, afraid he would push them aside.

“Oh, Maker,” You mumble as the kid touches Din’s helmet, smearing it with paint. You take him from his dad and stand up. “I think it’s time for a clean up, don’t you?” The kid pouts and his ear flop down, indicating he doesn’t like the idea of going to bed yet. “Aw, don’t be sad, we can always continue painting tomorrow.”

Din watches you as you make your way to the refresher, still talking to the kid. He watches you as you bathe him, trying to cheer him up, telling stories and humming an ancient lullaby at him. He sighs, feeling his heart swelling on his chest. If he was lucky to have you before he found the kid, now he’s the luckiest Mandalorian in the Galaxy.

After you bathe the kid and tuck him in, watching as he falls asleep immediately, you go back to the refresher to take a shower yourself. Din cleans his helmet and leans on the doorframe, watching you as you leave the small shower cabin.

“Hi, handsome,” You say, as you dry your hair with a towel, smiling at his bare face. “Come here often?”

Din rolls his eyes and chuckles. You dry your body in front of him, nothing new. But the way he’s watching you makes you wonder.

“Everything okay?” You ask, wrapping yourself with the towel.

He hesitates before speaking.

“I know we had this conversation already,” He starts, slowly. “But… How you’d you feel about having another baby?”

You look into his eyes, searching for any hint of a joke in them. Your heart beats faster and you part your lips with your tongue, choosing your words carefully.

“Like, you and me?” Your voice is small, almost a whisper.

“Yes,” He answers, patiently.

“In the conventional way?”

Din smiles and lets out a laugh. “Yes, in the conventional way.”

Trying to hold back your excitement, you bite your lower lip hard, holding back a smile.

“Okay,” You try to play it cool, but he knows you. He knows you want to jump up and down around the ship, yell in excitement.

“Okay?” He asks, leaning forward to kiss you.

“Yeah,” You mumble into his mouth as you kiss him back, softly and slowly. He walks in the refresher, backing you up inside and closing the door behind him. It gets cramped pretty easily, but you don’t care. Your arms lace around his neck, making the towel fall on the floor and leaving you completely naked. Your body presses against his, the cold beskar of his armor sending goosebumps to your skin. “You wanna try it now?”

He chuckles, his hands resting on your sides. He pulls away and looks into your eyes.

“I love you,” He tells you softly.

“I love you too,” You whisper, your eyes tearing up.

As you kiss him again, you feel complete. You think you don’t deserve this man, you don’t deserve his protection and kindness. But every time, he proves you wrong.

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal #the mandalorian one shot #the mandalorian imagine #myfic

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aesthbaby · 4 years

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Attention

Summary: Emily is in love with you, an agent from another division. What will happen when you’re involved in a case?

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x Plus size reader

Request: right here I’m going to be writing this request twice because this is the female reader version and I wanna be inclusive so I’ll write a gender neutral one too. This is only PART ONE. Part two should be out on either the 11th or 12th

Warnings: Cursing | Mild descriptions of a fictional case

Wordcount:1k

Masterlist

“Agent y/l/n will be presenting the case.” Agent Hotchner announces while walking into the conference room. You glance over to your girlfriend but say nothing since the team doesn’t know you’re dating. (Or that she’s gay.)

You quickly glance over to Penelope. “Sorry Pen.”

“You’re fine. Guess I’ll have to learn how to share at some point.” She smiles up at you while patting your arm. You flinch at it for some unknown reason. That was weird.

“Agent y/l/n is on loan to us from the Arts and Communication division. Some of you may know them from the times our cases crossed. Today, they’re here to assist us on our latest hate crime case.” He nods for you to start.

“So far we have five female victims from age 21 to 40. Cause of death is a poison called Strychnine. Delivery method has drastically varied.” You click a button on the remote and images of the deceased appear. “The local M.E. determined Jenna Marshall, 24, had the chemical laced in her food. Second victim, 32 year old Maria Nino, absorbed it through her skin. Same for our third victim Alexandra Cordon, age 27. Our fourth victim, 40 year old Kelly Jones, had it injected directly into her blood stream.”

The young doctor of the room interrupts you. “Injected?”

“Yes Doctor, Injected.” You put another image on screen. “She was a high functioning heroin addict; somehow the unsub got it into her stash.”

“High functioning?” That came from the darker Agent whom you’ve only met once.

“Yes. Miss Jones was a Criminal Defense Attorney with a 63% success rate.”

“What were the occupations of the other victims?” JJ, the blonde mom asks.

“Marshall was head chef at the four star restaurant Sundial. Mrs. Nino was a dentist at Shrinner Dental, Cordon was a freelance I.T. specialist, and our fifth victim, Debe Oxe was a Flight Engineer.”

“All high paying jobs...” Agent Rossi trails.

“Could money have been the motive here?” Morgan brainstorms.

“I thought the same thing until...” You scroll to the full length pictures of the women. “I realized that they all have the same body type. That’s where the Hate Crime part comes in.” As a dull silence fills the room you realize that they’re no longer looking at the screens. “Is something wrong?”

“Y/l/n,” Emily starts. “They all look like you.”

You let out a short laugh at that. “No they don’t.”

Everyone just looks at you funny. Then Morgan speaks up, “Similar hair color, same eye color, and not to mention body type.”

“No. Victim number two has lighter hair.”

“But only by a shade or two.” Jareau adds.

“Like Morgan said, its the eye color too.” Penelope contributes. “Can’t deny that.”

“There’s seven billion people in the world. A lot of people have my eye color.” Agent Hotchner is shockingly silent during this whole ordeal.

“Actually its 7.8 billion.” Reid corrects you.

Derek looks like he wants to say something so you quickly interject. “Agent Morgan, all due respect, if you say me and the rest of the victims have the same shape, I will take offence.” You were joking of course, but he doesn’t know that.

“No no I wasn’t saying that.” He stutters.

Emily says something but everything’s all jumbled. Like your head is underwater.

“Y/l/n.” Hotchner calls your name firmly.

It scared you for some reason. Then your jaw felt kind of tight so you barley choke out a, “Yes--sir?”

“What do you think about Agent Morgan’s theory?”

What do I think? I think he’s a total douche for calling me fat. Shit...what’s wrong with me? He didn’t even say that. “It was highly suggestive of him to propose that the victims resemble me.” Everyone is still looking to you to respond like you didn’t actually say anything. Then it dawns on you, you didn’t. You just said that stuff in your head. Shit, the symptoms.

Your jaw is so tight and the back of your neck is starting to ache. Its getting harder to breathe. “I don’t-” You reach around to the back of your head and rub it gently. Muscle pain and soreness.

You can hear Reid’s voice in the distance but you’re not comprehending anything. Agitation.

Penelope’s arguing with Morgan about something. Apprehension or fear.

Hotchner is attentively listening to their consultations. Ability to be easily startled.

Jareau is flipping through the case file while talking to Rossi. Jaw tightness.

You hear your name being called but its like you can’t respond. Then you see Em staring at you. You suddenly feel everything crashing down on you at once. Your stomach is doing something funny and now your throat feels like its burning. That wasn’t one of the symptoms. Its not the same feeling as burning but more like cold. I’m not even making sense anymore. You’re scared, something doesn’t feel right. Fear. You keep repeating the symptoms in your head, hoping you’re missing a few and that this cannot be happening to you. You pop an eye open and see that the agents are still talking. You’re trying to call for help but its like the wind has been knocked out of you. Difficulty Breathing.

“I-” As soon as you can choke something out you feel something rising in your throat. You double over in pain and watch as your insides tumble out. All you see is red, feeling bad for whoever has to clean this up. I should do it, shouldn’t I? It feels like your entire body is giving up on you, your head isn’t working right, and you overall feel like complete shit. When you open your eyes again you spot Emily’s shoes running towards you. You look back at the floor, clutching your abdomen. Is that my blood?

Everything goes black.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･**･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*˚✧₊⁎ ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟ･*:.

Taglist (Like my Emily taglist to be added, or you can send me an Ask located in the top right corner of my profile. You can also ask to be removed if you’d like)

@iamyouknow-yours @mortallythoughtfulgurl @spencerreidistoocute @andreaxxg13 @vivianabakshani @garcias-batcave @davidrossiismydad @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @criminalmindsmoodrn @miidguardian-exe @thestrawberrygirl @lisztomaniacalice @aaron-hotchner187 @fanfictionfangirl04 @mys2425 @afuckingshituniverse @nomit16 @rabid-wild-misfits @justaghostmonument @ millipop18 @supercorp8388 @groovygoob @emilyprentisswife @thiscovetedcoven Some of these don’t work anymore so i have to update the list again : (

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davidcampiti · 3 years

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A SCREENPLAY IS NOT A COMIC BOOK SCRIPT

I'm frustrated by writers who hire a comicbook artist then send a screenplay as their script. My first question to them is, "Are you hiring one of our writers to adapt this into a comic book script?" Usually they'll respond, "No that's the script to work from."

But it's not.

Word balloons aren't broken out or numbered, SFX aren't identified, the pacing is wrong, and most panel descriptions are missing, causing the artist and the editor to do twice as much work without a corresponding increase in pay.

Here's a good article from Nick Macari about the differences --

I think you’d be hard pressed to find some work of fiction, some type of writing, that you could NOT turn into a comic. That is to say, you could create a comic from notes on bar napkins, a published novel, heck I bet you could even create a comic using nothing but a movie as the source material.

If you’re making a comic yourself, like literally by yourself, it doesn’t really matter how you do it… only the final product matters. If you have some crazy process that gets you a beautiful finished product, good on ya mate.

But for those writing spec scripts, trying to write for others, or trying to entice others to their project, it pays to create scripts that open doors instead of closing them.

In 2020, there are a million writers writing screenplays and pawning them off as comic scripts.

If you want to be one of those guys… as you were.

But if you actually want to write comics, if you want to be a comic book writer, you should learn how to write an actual comic book script, not how to sell some other script as one.

There are lot of useful technique comics can borrow from screenplays.

For the innocent novice writer, it’s understandable to see some technical execution confusion. But for working and professional writers, knowing what transfers over and what doesn’t separates the riff from the raff.

Before we get into it, let’s put to bed, once and for all, why a straight screenplay script is not a comic script. Here’s why;

Director Production Designer Art Director Costume Designer Cinematographer … Camera Assistant Director of Photography Scenic Artist Set Decorator Storyboard artist … Makeup artist Wardrobe stylist Assistant Director Production Assistant Production Coordinator Production Designer … Script Supervisor Sound Mixer Special Effects Coordinator

oh yeah, and actors.

These are a few of the people involved in a film.

Individual roles dedicated to a specific area of production. In essence, a screenplay can deliver fairly minimal information and it’s someone’s specific job to interpret that information, its context, and otherwise apply their knowledge, experience and skill, to turn that information into some tangible, successful element.

If you think it’s the artist’s job to fill all these roles, you’re crazy… and mean to artists.

Ok, you still here?

Good.

Let’s showcase some specific examples of why a screenplay doesn’t hold up for comics;

THE FRENCH CONNECTION

Drug Dealer I don’t…

Doyle Ever pick your feet in Poughkeepsie?

Drug Dealer What?

Doyle Did you ever pick your feet in Poughkeepsie?

Drug Dealer I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.

Doyle Were you ever in Poughkeepsie?

Drug Dealer No… yeah…

Doyle Did you ever sit on the edge of a bed, take off your socks and stick your fingers between your toes?

Drug Dealer Man, I’m clean.

Doyle You made three sales to your roaches back there. We had to chase you though all this shit and you tell me you’re clean?

Russo Who stuck up the laundromat?

Doyle How about that time you were picking your feet in Pougheepsie?

The drug dealers’ eyes go to Russo in panic, looking for the relief from the pressure of the inquisition.

Russo (in pain) You better give me the guy who got the old Jew or you better give me something or you’re just a memory in this town.

Drug Dealer That’s a lot o’ shit. I didn’t do nothin’.

14 dialogue exchanges, with for all intents and purposes not a single visual description (one minor one toward the end about the dealer’s eyes.). This is likely at least one page of comic with this volume of exchanges and dialogue, and there is literally, nothing cuing the artist as to how this should go down.

THE FRENCH CONNECTION

Mutchie

That’s right, he couldn’t fight legit. One night at the Garden about 1950, ’51—he fought either Jake LaMotta or Gus Lesnevish, I think it was—he took one o’those cream puff punches in the sixth—the laziest left you ever seen—missed him entirely. Down goes Blackjack without even workin’ up a sweat and the whole Garden gets up on its feet and I swear to Christ, everybody starts singin’ “Dance with Me Henry.”

75 words. Way too much for a single panel.

How many ways can you break the dialogue into how many panels?

Is one way to break it up more effective than the others?

Because if it is, and that’s NOT the method you write up, you’re producing a less effective script.

But ultimately, what works in film as a 30 second monologue (doesn’t work in comics), would be far more effective as caption narration over flashback action.

THE EXORCIST

EXTERIOR – IRAQ- NINEVEH- DAY

The old man arrives back at that dig site in a small jeep. As he pulls up two armed guards rush out. When they see who it is the old man gives them a wave and they slowly walk back to there quarters. The old man walks up the rocky mound and sees a huge statue of the demon Pazuzu, which has the head of the small rock he earlier found. He climbs to a higher point to get a closer look. When he reaches the highest point he looks at the statue dead on. He then turns his head as we hear rocks falling and sees a guard standing behind him. He then turns again when he hears two dogs savagely attacking each other. The noise is something of an evil nature. He looks again at the statue and we are then presented with a classic stand off side view of the old man and the statue as the noises rage on. We then fade to the sun slowly setting as the noises lower in volume.

Hey! this has some nice direction, this screenplay stuff is perfect for a comic.

NO.

Let’s break it down;

This passage is 15 beats, give or take. One beat a panel, 3-5 panels per page, we’ve got 3-5 pages of comic in this passage alone.

Hang on we’re not done.

If you fill your page with this type of description (you shouldn’t, but let’s say you did), you could get almost double that amount of beats. So one page of screenplay delivering nearly 6-10 pages of comic content!

Tell me, when was the last time someone delivering a screenplay “comic script,” delivered a 2 page script for a complete issue? Never says I.

BONUS on this example:

Did y’all notice the soundtrack emphasis in this excerpt from the Exorcist script? Of course you can have sound effects in a comic, but no matter how you crack it, comics DO NOT have soundtracks. Relying on film soundtracks in a comic script is a sure fire way to deliver less effective scripts.

BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA

JACK Alright, where’s my truck, Wang? I’m outta here. And my money, too.

WANG Forget about your truck, Jack. You don’t wanna go back there. You’ll have to go through the Wing Kong to get it. It’s insured, right?

JACK Of course it is. But that’s not the point.

WANG The smart man comes back for it later…

JACK The smart man calls the cops!

WANG Cops have better things to do than get killed.

We showed the typical lack of visual description a screenplay gives in the first example. [Screenplays tend to focus on the scene setup, then briefly hit key actions of the scene.] Here we have another example of missing visual description, but I point it out for something more specific–LACK OF EMOTIONAL context.

As I point out in the Writer’s Guide, Emotional content is one of the essential elements of each and every comic panel. So not only do we not have visual cues to support the action in the screenplay, but how are the characters delivering these lines!?

JACK Alright, where’s my truck, Wang? I’m outta here. And my money, too.

How many ways can you say this line?

I can say it pissed. Irritated. Fearful. Sarcastically. Comically. Those are just a few that pop in my head… and I’m no actor.

Leaving emotional context open to interpretation undermines narrative control–in a big way.

A good, effective scene, could die a horrible misinterpreted death.

For the record, you can use parentheticals in a screenplay. This can give emotional context, like the one from Jack’s first line I omitted to make the example more effective

JACK (pissed off)

But where parentheticals do contain emotional context, you use them in a script sparingly. Just like you don’t tell the director how to do his job filling your screenplay with camera direction, you don’t try to tell the actors how to do theirs. (Remember, the answer to why Screenplays aren’t Comic Scripts, there’s a lot of people, hopefully professionals, bringing their expertise to the table.)

CASABLANCA

Ilsa Your secret will be safe with me. Ferrari is waiting for our answer.

At the bar Ferrari talks to a waiter.

Ferrari Not more than fifty francs though.

Ilsa and Laszlo walk up to him.

Laszlo We’ve decided, Signor Ferrari. For the president we’ll go on looking for two exit visas. Thank you very much.

Ferrari Well, good luck. But be careful. ( a flick of his eyes in the direction of the bazaar) You know you’re being shadowed.

Laszlo glances in the direction of the bazaar.

Screenplays live in movement. Unless you’ve got a static insert of a letter or photo or something, everything is in motion and there is constant change (even if subtle) from micro-second, to micro-second.

While comics work to capture movement (and there are some tricks), it is ultimately a static medium, locked into showcasing moments frozen in time.

What I explain in the “works in movies not in comics article” is that the constant movement and motion, supported (primarily) by actors, but by the lighting people, the art direction people, director, etc. all gives depth and purpose to every single second of a film.

With all these people doing their job, a screenplay can give super general stage direction, like what we see here in this Casablanca excerpt.

At the bar Ferrari talks to a waiter.

Ilsa and Laszlo walk up to him.

Laszlo glances in the direction of the bazaar.

These trivial actions carry no narrative. They work in film because of performance and motion, which steps in to create narrative.Without performance and motion, a single frame captured from core stage direction translates to ineffective comic panels.

By the way, all the examples I’m giving here, are from solid movies. The big pink elephant in the room when writers deliver “comic screenplay scripts,” is that they assume they know how to write a good screenplay in the first place. Trust me, novice writers rarely do.

There’s a lot of technique and skill in writing a solid screenplay. And if you think a good screenplay causes problems converting to a comic, wait till you try it from a shitty screenplay.

Still thinkin’ screenplay is synonymous with comic script? Well you’re wrong sunshine, but what do I know?

I’m just a non-famous full-time mercenary writer, writing almost exclusively in comics and games for a decade or so. :p

I’ve spent a few hours writing this article, but there are plenty of other examples I haven’t touched on.

I’ll come back and add some more as I think of them in my down time. Maybe eventually when the list is so long it takes you a couple hours to read this article, y’all get it through your noggins that comics are there own medium which demand the attention and respect of a unique format and writing approach. Something the comic book writers reading this, already know. #justsayin

About the Author — Nick Macari is a full-time freelance story consultant, developmental editor and writer, working primarily in the independent gaming and comic markets. His first published comic appeared on shelves via Diamond in the late 90’s. Today you can find his comic work on comixology, amazon and in select stores around the U.S. Visit NickMacari.com for social media contacts and news on his latest releases.

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freebooter4ever · 4 years

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i’ve seen the discussion going back and forth on boundaries and sexual objectification, and i don’t have much to add to the conversation other than to say everyone is allowed to determine their OWN ‘lines’ and just because we don’t vocalize them doesn’t make them any less valid. but here’s the limits i set for my blog if anyone feels it is important for them to know (<3):

personally I consider ‘characters’ fair game for anything goes, with ‘public personas’ a little more iffy. ‘RPF’ isn’t new - it just takes on a new more accessible/visible form nowadays. i remember reading my first fic about a ‘real person’ back in my LOTR fandom days - it was a story in first person perspective about the main character meeting orlando bloom on a plane before he was ‘famous’. like a lot of these types of stories, it wasnt so much about the person as it was about the meet cute. the actor was just a convenient placeholder with a handsome face and some personality quirks thrown in to make the romance/dialogue more specific. i personally dont read much xReader fic nowadays, but mostly only cause i’m an old fart who can’t relate to the ‘you’ format. i miss the good old days when people actually created OC’s and then inserted them into things LOL. but also LOL if you think i’ve gone an entire year of quarantine without some imagined personal fantasies of joe mazzello (or steve aoki in the years before)(ramilicious can attest to this. she can also attest to most of these fantasies ending in friendship rather than anything explicit cause that’s just how i roll these days lol). the line i draw is i would never post these types of fics in a place where the subject could accidentally find them - you have to go looking for this stuff on tumblr, most fics are given explicit ratings and under read-mores. with the blacklist tags it’s pretty easy to filter things out. its even easier to add filters to ao3 searches. i am NOT going to do something like message steve aoki and say ‘yeah i watched that movie Ibiza like five times, here is my 1k fic where you’re the dj and i’m the one night stand’. but obviously people still enjoy imagining scenarios like these otherwise movies like Ibiza wouldn’t exist?

for art, i consider anything already on display up for grabs, we all know a certain person’s ass is all over the place...all you have to do is google ‘need for speed’ and rami’s name. HOWEVER, in the case of actors i personally would not draw anything more explicit than what’s already there. i’m not gonna draw full frontal nudity for rami (unless he gifts us with it in a movie, i suppose) or anyone. this is 100% a personal choice for me.

i was a sophomore or junior in college when i volunteered as a figure drawing monitor where i’d time the nude model’s poses and help them set up the stage and lighting and such. there was this one guy in his mid forties probably, a regular who came every week, and i always thought of him fondly till one day (the day after i ran into my Hot Programming TA during dinner and later sent him an email begging him to go on a date with me because i was desperate for kissing experience)(and Hot Programming TA emailed me back within minutes saying yes) this artist guy who i saw all the time and thought i knew fairly well, decided to draw me instead of the model. which would have been fine except he drew me naked. i was NOT naked at the time, i was wearing a shirt, and a bra, and a full prairie skirt with alternating calico and floral patterns. he drew what he imagined was underneath all that. he came up to me after the figure drawing session and showed me his drawings and told me i had been ‘glowing’ and my response was to laugh it off awkwardly and get the hell out of there as soon as i gave the model their pay check. but inwardly i was thinking a) i was NOT glowing for this creepy man twice my age and b) i did NOT give him consent to sexualize my body under my clothes and then SHOW me that objectification. i never said anything to him or anything else, i continued to be the monitor, and i continued to field off creepy advances from him including multiple job offers, but when i finally realized i could just...stop..and i passed the student volunteer monitor job on to my friend naeem, i also realized that what that older male artist did was NOT ok in my book. and it was probably not something he would do while naeem was monitoring.

nowadays im working in an industry that regularly objectifies female bodies. in the past year alone i have had to deal with requests to make breasts bigger, i have been given character rigs that in addition to the usual elbow, knee, and spine joints also have ‘nipple’ joints but ONLY for the women (to make them jiggle for animation), every time i send out a female pose i get it back with notes that push it further into the sexy type of body language reserved for women (twist the spine more! sway the back more! give it ‘energy!’), i have been told to erase wrinkles and fat and pores but ONLY for the women (men you ADD pores bc realism! and manliness!) and this is all me working for a company that is actually fairly progressive in terms of sexism compared to OTHER studios.

like it or not, sexual objectification is a huge part of specifically women’s lives and how we react to that is our business. for me, turning the tables and putting men on display feels like fair’s fair. i cant stop the men from doing it, so if i want to enjoy sexualizing male bodies, damn it im gonna! like dang it, boy do i want to send steve aoki a thank you note every time he posts a video of himself doing those ice baths during the sunset golden hour bc holy shit gorgeous or working out in his gym wearing VERY little clothes, but i dont because i know what its like when someone imposes their personal fantasies on the subject. or, god, there was that time i had to unfollow nicole’s insta for a while bc i had a very explicit dream about her and realized, shit, i need to take a break and get my emotions under control before i can refollow. and god some of the stuff i see dudes sending her during her live videos on mental illness/meditation is TOTALLY gross and not something they should be confronting her with. and she’s not even ‘famous’ famous. or how some fans send their idols explicit direct messages without consent. THAT feels inappropriate to me.

a part of me feels like i shouldn’t have to defend this. men don’t. they’re even encouraged in mass media to sexualize women. but i also recognize the importance of talking about consent. the importance of recognizing that a celebrity deserves to have their boundaries respected. these are my lines in fandom. other people have different lines they won’t cross, and that’s okay to me. i block or blacklist any blogs or tags i think go over the top.

heck, even in fandom-only spaces i still try to keep my own more sexual fantasies off this blog and only in private messages with my friends and mutuals, and i feel like that might come across as unintentionally prudish or judgmental sometimes. i’m not ‘horny on main’ very often. but like...every time i reblog that particular ‘washing machine’ gif of joe mazzello am i thinking about him naked and thinking about how he’s got very loooooong feet, and ‘gee i wonder if that means /other/ things are Too Big for my tastes’ but also ‘gosh wouldnt that make a pretty picture to draw’???? hell yeah.

i dont know who is gonna actually read this essay but yolo i guess :)

#journal shit

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animemangasoul · 4 years

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Tim & Jason Becoming a "We"

Summery: Tim and Jason become a unit and are each other's backup, always.

Tim doesn’t know how, doesn’t know when, but time flies, their world bleeds together and suddenly, Tim can’t really imagine a future where his previously estranged brother doesn’t fit like a puzzle next to him.

It’s like having a perfect match in everything.

Someone who isn’t you but understands you. Someone who seamlessly connects with you in a way that lifts the weight of the earth of your shoulders and Tim stops thinking of them as Tim and Jason and starts seeing them as “we”. Because they are in this together. In a family that isn’t quite comfortable with either of them, in a family that is a ghost of what it used to be, in a family where either of them feels the stinging feeling of betrayal like a blemish against their skin. Their plight becomes a “we” and their struggles becomes an “us.”

-------

They are flying across the sky, Jason only slightly ahead of him, and Tim doing his best to keep up while avoiding jolting his side too much because, ouch, he winces, hand coming up to rest on his ribs as he takes another swing across the rooftop and stumbles after Jason. He really should have readjusted the bindings before he’d thrown himself into the air tonight, but alas, it couldn’t be helped now.

Another Arkham breakout had brought the whole family together tonight and Tim couldn’t afford to step down, especially since they were already shorthanded with Cass being in China and Duke off world. Tim had to step up, because he knew that he was needed. And Tim would always be there when he was needed.

Bruce voice crackles through their earpiece as soon as he lands next to Jason who’d stopped to wait for him. Tim doesn’t know whether he should feel insulted or appreciative of the gesture. He settles on a nod; Jason answers him with a tilt of his head. Before he then follows it up with a slight twitch of his shoulder meant to ask a silent question. Tim shakes his head. ‘No,' he communicates with that gesture. ‘I don’t want to talk. Stop worrying.’ His brother shrugs and turns away.

“Red Hood, Red Robin, come in.”

Pressing on his earpiece, Tim settled more comfortable on the roof; shifting his leg and allowing some of the pressure to shift away from his injured side before speaking. “Here Batman. Where to?”

“Two Face has been spotted near your area, so I need you to cut through the construction site and corner him by the warehouse on fifth.” Their father’s voice sounds blank, but Tim can hear the underlying frustration, aggression and urgency behind the lack of emotions.

Tim stills. Eyes darting over to Red Hood before speaking again. “The construction site?”

“Yes,” Batman snaps. “Is that a problem Red Robin?”

“It is,” Jason cuts in before Tim can answer. “I’ve been keeping an eye on that site and a weapons deal is supposed to take place there later tonight and if we bust through it now I’ll miss my chance to solve my case. I case I’ve been working on for weeks if you can bother to remember.”

A pause, and then. “We don’t have time to be worried about your other cases right now Hood. Cut through the construction site.....”

Bruce keeps talking, but Tim isn’t paying attention anymore. His eyes are focused on the clenching and unclenching of Jason’s fists and yeah.... Bruce shouldn’t have said that. This case, it had kept Jason up for days, little girls had died and... Two Face was dangerous but--

“Batman,” Tim said; finger pressed against his cowl. “We’re taking the north street and swinging in from behind. It should get us there in around the same time.”

“Red Robin!”

But Tim isn’t focusing on him. His eyes squarely resting on his brother. “We got this Batman. Reds out.”

Turning off the com he breathes out slowly.

He didn’t like to defy Batman. Didn’t like to step on toes. Didn’t want to rock the boat, but.... Jason needed backup and Tim was his backup. Always.

“Let’s go,” he says, sprinting across the roof and jumping over the edge. It takes a second, but he hears the heavy boots of his brother following his footsteps. “Can’t believe you just hung up on Batman,” Jason snorts. Tim can barely hear him through the coms. “Now let’s kick some ass.”

Tim grins.

-----------------

The dinner table is surprisingly noisy today. Most of the family somehow having been able to make their way upstairs after a heavy night out and if it wasn’t for the bump and bruises all around, the noise would have probably been twice as loud.

“Hey,” Dick screamed from the other side of the table. “Someone pass me the ketchup!”

Grimacing, Jason picked up the bottle and shucked it at the other man, Dick gracefully snatching it out of the air and grinning at him smugly. “You’re disgusting,” Jason huffed, staring in horror as Dick proceeded to gleefully add a generous amount of ketchup on his pasta. “Disgusting.”

“You only say that cuz you haven’t tasted this art!”

Shaking his head, Jason picks up his own fork and proceeds to eat his exasperation away, because.... yeah, Alfred’s pasta was delicious and sure they were all eating at like five in the morning, but a vigilante's schedule was never set in a healthy routine, so this was fine. This was perfect.

Shooting a quick look at the teen sitting next to him, Jason frowned; mouth stuffed full but eyes observing the too quiet figure that was Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne. The kid had been oddly out of it lately, and Jason didn’t like it.

Didn’t like it one bit.

Nudging the other ever so slightly, Jason lifts a brow when Tim finally meets his gaze. The heavy bags under the kid’s eyes a serious cause for concern and Jason finds himself mimicking the other’s expression, the frown deepening when all the other does is give him a pathetic attempt at a smile.

Not ok at all.

“So,” Dick says loudly, momentarily forcing Jason to look away from the kid. “You’re all coming to our annual family dinner tomorrow right?”

His grin is huge and for some mystical reason doesn’t take away from his charm despite the smear of ketchup at the left corner of his mouth. “I know we’re all busy, but it will be good to be together under the same roof without being forced to. Plus,” he adds, practically bouncing on his seat. “Dami is coming back from his camping trip so we can all finally just be a family!”

There is an echo of tired confirmation all around the table, brightening Dick more and more as no one puts up much of a fight. Stephanie just shrugging in a silent agreement next to his overhyped brother and Bruce smiling slightly at his oldest son, the others only nodding along, but it’s more than anyone has agreed to in a very long time and Jason finds himself not minding at all. In fact, “What about you Jason?”

“Sure,” he says, fork at his lips. “I think we can make it.”

“We?”

Dick sounds confused.

Jason only nods. “Yeah, me and Timbo over here.” Finally looking back at his baby brother, he suddenly notices the new stiffness that has reshaped the replacement’s frame. Now he looks even more pale, even more sickly, and Jason worries his lip. This doesn’t look good.

“Oh,” Dick says. “Right! Timmy! I almost forgot you were here! You’re so quiet lately!” A laugh.

Dick doesn’t see Tim flinch.

Jason does.

And nop, not gonna let that one stand. Jason hadn’t worked his ass off to make the idiot come into himself just for dickhead to bring it all down with an ill-timed humor that hit too close to home. Nop.

“You know what,” he says, fork clanging on the plate as Jason stands up. “I forget that we had other plans. Sorry Dick, but me and the replacement will have to bail on you tomorrow.”

He watches as Dick’s face falls and he feels something like satisfaction pulse through his veins. He does his best not to show it. Instead grabbing a confused Tim be the elbow and dragging him up. “We have that case thing in Hawaii that we need to take care of.” Tim looks utterly confused. Jason doesn’t care. “So next time?”

“I....” Dick looks between them, something like a shadow passing through his eyes when Tim unconsciously leans on him, a small sigh of contentment escaping his lips. “You sure you can’t make it Timmy?”

Tim blinks slowly down at their brother, shoulders going rigged under Jason’s arm. “Yeah, sorry Dick. We have that case... that really important case and.... Say hi to Damian for me.”

The demon spawn.

Jason doesn’t know how in God’s given earth Goldie still hadn’t realized that Tim would do anything not to be in the same room as that kid. Could one person be that oblivious?

“Are you sure kiddo? Dami would really like to see you. He misses you?”

And.... yup. One person could really be that oblivious. “We’re leaving,” Jason huffs. Dragging his replacement behind him as he snatched up his gun from the corner table and only pauses slightly for Tim to pick up his computer bag before he leads the other out the dining hall and through the rest of the house before exiting the door. Not even turning around to acknowledge Bruce’s command to stay till dinner was over.

Tim needed backup. Jason was his backup.

-------------

“We didn’t do it.”

Bruce’s glare turns towards him. Tim tries not to flinch. “We didn’t do it,” he repeats, his stubborn streak flaring up as he feels slightly corned by the looming figure. “We didn’t.”

“I wasn’t talking to you Tim.”

“I know,” he says, scooting forward in his chair so that he can more comfortably hold Jason’s hand. Jason who is practically glowering at their father.

“Then don’t speak for your brother.”

Tim is glaring now. “I’m not speaking for him. I’m just telling you that we didn’t do it because I was there. I wouldn’t lie about Jason killing someone Bruce!”

“He shot him!”

“Because the shitbag fucking shot at us! What the fuck B!” If Jason didn’t have a sizable hole in his shoulder Tim was sure he would have flung himself at Bruce by now. “What did you want us to do huh? Die?”

Bruce frowned. “Of course not.”

Shaking his head, Tim tried not to sigh, squeezing Jason’s hands reassuringly instead. “We didn’t kill him Bruce. I promise. It was a nonfatal shot anyways. He couldn’t have died from that.”

“But he is dead. Whether you like it or not Jason has broken his promise and---”

“But he didn’t kill him!”

Batman glares. “He should have been more careful. I’ve trained him better than that. He knew what he was doing and---”

“And what!”

Tim is mirroring Bruce’s glare now.

“Jason can’t continue to operate thinking he’s above consequences Tim.”

And.... Tim is on his feet in a second. He doesn’t know why he reacts like this..... No, he knows exactly why because... “What suit would you have picked out?” He is so so angry.

“What?” Bruce doesn’t show it, but a mild confusion tilts through his tone, and Tim lashes out.

“I said which suit would you have picked out? For our funeral I mean.” Even Jason is looking at him now. A stunned surprise mirroring Bruce’s own painting his face, but Tim doesn’t spare him a glance. Doesn’t spare anyone else in the room a look. Eyes squarely focused on their shocked father.

“After we died by the docks and you eventually found our bloating bodies floating in the dirty Gotham waters, which suit would you have picked out? Because that’s what would have happened if Jason hadn’t shot that man. We would be dead Bruce! So, maybe stop trying to equate our lives to your moral code! And just be happy we didn’t die for once in your life!”

Silence.

Tim is breathing heavily, eyes refusing to leave Bruce’s own, but he still feels the flush of embarrassment burn at his cheeks because... wow, he’d just screamed at Bruce and.... Jason squeezes his hand. Tearing his gaze away from his statue of a father, Tim’s eyes connect with his brother, and Jason squeezes his hand again, giving him a tiny smile and.... yeah.

Sitting back down, Tim fiddles with the other’s fingers until Bruce spins around and marches out of the cave. And yeah.... Tim would fight anyone for Jason, because Jason and him. They were a unit. A team. A “We.”

They had each other’s backs, because they chose to, because they needed to, because they wanted to. And Tim didn’t mind being a “we” with Jason if that meant he’d always have backup in the form of his favorite big brother.

----------

Dick holds up a chocolate chip cookie to Tim and Jason slaps it out of his hand.

“What the-” Dick says, startled as he watches the cookie fly out of his hand and hit the ground. “What did you do that for?” he asks, turning on Jason.

Shifting his sunglasses, Jason stares up at the bright blue sky before shrugging at Goldie. “We don’t like chocolate chip anymore.”

“What?”

Even Damian is giving him a weird look now, the four of them finally hanging out after forever of Dick begging and threatening them to do something together outside of work.

Tim snorts.

“You heard what I said,” Jason huffs, fishing a butter cookie out of his own bag and handing it over to Tim who takes it without a protest. “We don’t eat chocolate chip anymore.”

“I literally saw Tim eat it yesterday!”

Jason scoffs and Tim has tears in his eyes trying not to laugh. “That was yesterday Goldie. Get with the times.”

The end

Notes:

@miss-choco-chips I got inspired by your fic (especially that Jason and Tim part) so I wrote you this in turn. It’s more fluff and isn’t funny at all but I’m sending you soft emotions your way!!! Since tim and jason are our favs ;)

@throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen Sending fluff your way as well!! Hope you like it. We’re are currently on hiatus of torturing tim sooooo happy moments it’s what we’re writing lol.

#tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batfamily #Batfamily Fanfic #batsiblings #batsiblings fic #red robin #red hood #nightwing #batman #batman fanfiction #batman comics #batfam fanfic #batfam

188 notes · View notes

i-like-5sos · 4 years

Text

No Idea [Malum Fic]

PAIRING: Calum Hood x Michael Clifford

WORD COUNT: 6428

WARNINGS: Drinking, swearing, and just some angst

SUMMARY: After moving across the country to escape the heartache that high school brings and to begin his first year at University, Michael finds himself face to face with the very person that caused his heartbreak: Calum Hood.

A/N: This was made specifically for Mandie for The Club Fic Gift Exchange ! It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written any mxm BUT I’ve missed it and can’t wait to start writing more (if you have any suggestions on how to improve please send them my way, I’ll take all the help I can get).

Fifteen minutes late. I’m fifteen minutes late to my first class as a University student. Great.

I burst out through the doors of the residency building, almost crashing into some blonde girl who’s face leaves my memory as quickly as it entered, and run as fast as I can across the campus to The Arts building. Thankfully I listened to Mom’s advice and looked up a map of the school last night or I’d be fucked right now. Musical Theory. Monday, 8AM. Room 102: Arts Building. I check the room number on my schedule twice before taking a deep breath and opening the door to my classroom.

The door opens to the back of the room and multiple heads spin around to face me. I can feel my face getting hot as I try to disappear into myself and search for a place to sit down. As to be expected, almost every table in the room is full and there’s nowhere to sit… Unless I want to join one of the tables of three and converse in small talk with a group of people that obviously don’t want me to sit with them- and let’s be clear; I don’t want to do that.

I almost settle for a table with two girls seated at it, but then notice the table in the front of the room with only one person there. Thank god. I head toward the dark-haired boy at the table and quietly sit across from him. He doesn’t react as I sit down, his head buried in his folded arms on the table.

I would normally never be caught dead at the front of the room, but here I am, sitting so close to the professor that I can smell his cheap cologne, having to share a table with some random guy who is probably going to hate me for ruining his table of solitude.

As the class continues, I do my best to follow along with the PowerPoint slides on my screen while also trying to focus on what the professor is saying at the front of the room, but I can’t help but glance over to the brunette across from me every chance I get. His head hasn’t left his arms since I’ve sat down, and I’m pretty sure he’s asleep… Maybe I should wake him up. Maybe he’s dead. I begin to picture what would happen if my classmate had died sitting across from me. Would I have to talk to the police? Would I be a suspect? Am I obligated to go to his funeral and give a speech? What would I even say? What if-

“You will have two months to complete this project and it will be worth thirty percent of your final grade. Get to work.”

I turn to face the Professor, and I realize that I may have zoned out for the entire explanation of a project that’s worth almost a third of my final grade… awesome.

Letting out a sigh, I turn back to read through the notes on my screen and, of course, none of them have anything to do with a huge project. There is no way I am going to ask the professor to repeat everything he’d just said.

As my classmates begin to talk amongst themselves about the project that I know nothing about, I glance over to the boy across from me that may or may not be dead and decide that now’s a good a time as any to find out.

“Hey” I say quietly.

No response.

I repeat myself a little louder, “Hey… Uh, my name’s Michael.”

No response again.

“Dude, seriously?” I huff, before picking up my biggest textbook and dropping it onto the table.

It worked! His head shoots up and I notice the headphones in his ears. That explains a lot. I also notice that the boy I’ve been watching all morning sitting across from me is the same boy I’d spent the majority of my high school years watching from across the room. Calum Hood. I haven’t seen him since our high school graduation last June, but he looks about the same. Same dark hair, same brown eyes, same three moles on his cheek, same annoyed and confused look on his face- oh no wait that’s new.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” He glares at me as he rips the headphones out of his ears.

“I thought you were dead or asleep or something.” I shrug before changing the topic, “I didn’t know you got accepted here.”

“Well, obviously I’m not dead, and if I was sleeping, that was a cruel way to get me to wake up... Remind me never to have you actually wake me up.” He places his headphones into his backpack before continuing. “And um, yeah, I was torn between a few different universities but settled on the one farthest from home… Looks like you did the same?”

I nod and chuckle softly. “Yeah. Fuck that place.”

“How pop punk of you.” He laughs, and it brings me back to being fifteen and pathetically swooning over that very sound, never being the one to have caused it. If only fifteen-year-old me could see me now.

Grounding myself, I quickly try to think of something that isn’t completely embarrassing, and remember the mysterious project that I know mothing about.

“So… did you catch anything the prof was saying about this project worth thirty percent of our grade… cause I might have zoned out the whole time...”

He looks confused for a moment, before directing his attention to his laptop.

“I can’t blame you for not paying attention. Five minutes into his lecture I stopped listening to him and started listing to my music instead. Figured I could just read the Power Point later tonight.” He types something before continuing, “I looked through the material on the class page before the lecture started and I think I saw something about a group project that was worth thirty percent… let me just… Okay yeah, here it is.” He turns his laptop to face me, pointing at the assignment on the screen and showing me how her got there.

I quickly follow his instructions to the page and begin reading about the assignment. It’s a group project for 2-3 people about how emotions and feelings are portrayed through song. We’re all supposed to draw an emotion from the professor -that explains why people keep getting up to talk to him- and write an essay about a song that has made us feel this way. Once we finish our essays, we’re supposed to go back to our partners and make a playlist of 25 songs that combines each the emotions we were individually assigned and talk about how easily these emotions can be portrayed in music. Seems simple enough… Except for the whole partner part.

I look up from my computer screen, and before I can talk myself out of it, I ask Calum if he’d like to partner up for the project. To my surprise, he agrees and before I know it, I’m looking down at the paper I had pulled out of the tin can on my professor’s desk. Longing. What kind of lame-ass emotion is longing? I sit back down at our table and show Calum my paper.

“Longing? That’s going to be so easy to write about! And it’ll go great with love. This is going to be a piece of cake.” He enthusiastically, typing away on his laptop.

“You got love? Are you kidding me? That’s such bullshit. Every song is about love… or sex… or drugs, and I don’t think sex or drugs are emotions… so like that’s not fair.” I look back at my small slip of paper, “How am I even supposed to write about longing?”

He breaks away from his typing long enough to look at me, “Longing is so easy to write about. Haven’t you ever wanted something you couldn’t have? Or missed someone or something like that?”

“I don’t know… maybe.” I pause for a moment, “I don’t know.”

He looks back to his screen and continues to type. “Okay, I looked up the word longing and it says here that ‘Longing is mainly a blend of the primary emotions of love or happiness and sadness or depression’. So there. You can focus on one of those four. It’s not that hard, Michael.”

Hearing Calum say my name takes me back for another brief moment. Even though we went to the same school for four years, I never really knew if he had known my name or not… we never really talked or hung out in the same crowds, so I figured it was safe to assume he didn’t even know I existed.

He shakes his head and looks at his screen again as I try to avoid the thoughts of how smooth my name rolled off his tongue that are currently running wild in my head, to focus on what he had said about the different ways longing could be portrayed and experienced.

Just as I begin to reflect on the last few years of my life for a moment that could stand out as ‘experiencing longing’, I’m interrupted by the sounds of my classmates packing up their belongings. I look to my left and notice Calum suddenly standing next to me.

“Here,” he says, handing me a sticky note with a phone number on it. “text me so we can meet up to work on the project.”

“I uh- thanks.” I stumble over my words as I take the paper from him and stick it to the inside of my laptop.

When I turn back to Calum, he’s already on his way to the door. I quickly pack up my books and pause for a moment to look at the sticky note before shutting my laptop, ignoring the heat on my face and the feeling in my stomach.

. . .

I feel like I may have stepped into an alternate dimension when I entered that classroom two weeks ago, because I’ve somehow found myself in the Calum Hood’s dorm room. By choice. His choice. Who would have thought?

To be honest, I’m kind of surprised at how easily we get along. We both have the same taste in music, the same sense of humor, and the same hobbies. Who knew we were so similar? Had we actually spoken to one another in high school, there would have been no stopping a friendship from forming.

Since texting him the day after our class, we’ve pretty much been inseparable. So, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that I’m hanging out with Calum in his dorm room… but I kind of am.

“Okay seriously, Calum. How do you already have four pages written out for your essay?” I ask, scrolling through the Word document open on his laptop.

“It’s like you said, love is easy to write about… You know what else is easy to write about?” He spins around on his desk chair, taking a break from his game to face me. “Longing. Have you even started your essay, or were you just planning on taking me down with you when you flunk out?”

I set the laptop down next to me on his bed. “The only one flunking out here is your team in Fifa.”

“That was a shit insult and you know it.”

“You’re a shit insult.”

He shakes his head and laughs. “Mate, for real. Do you need help writing your part?”

“No. I told you, I’ll be fine. I just need some inspiration… Which is what I should have gotten from your essay but the whole damn thing is about your family. It is so boring! Where’s the drama? Weren’t you a ladies’ man in high school? Where’s that Calum?”

With his eyebrows raised he looks taken aback for a moment and bursts out laughing.

“Did you seriously just call fourteen-year-old me a ‘ladies’ man’?” He asks, making air quotes at the last part.

I shrug and he continues laughing.

“Okay fine, you have a point. But like... what even is longing?”

His laughter softens and he rolls his eyes, smiling at me.

“Do you need me to pull up the definition again?”

“Fuck off.” I huff.

“Okay, fine… What about like, leaving town to come here. Didn’t you miss your girlfriend? Or your friends? Or maybe your family?”

“Girlfriend?” I laugh loudly. There’s no way he’s serious right now… “No. Absolutely no girlfriend. As for my family? I honestly couldn’t be happier to be on my own and out of the house... Also, it’s kind of hard to miss your friends when facetime exists.” I lay back on his bed and prop myself up with my elbow. “What else ya got?”

“Okay lone wolf… what about uh… okay I’ve got it. What about longing for like… touch, or affection, or love, or… fucking I don’t know, food?”

“Yeah, cause I’ll definitely get an A writing my essay about craving a Big Mac. Maybe I can get extra credit if I bring one in.”

He glares at me and rolls his eyes again before shaking his head and turning around to focus his attention back to his game. I drop my head onto his pillow and sigh. Watching him play, my mind wanders as I being to think about his words. Touch. Affection. Love. My heart aches for the poor fifteen-year-old boy I once was, longing for those exact things for over a year and never getting them. I remember the emotional shut down I forced myself to do to move on from the brown-eyed boy that occupied my mind daily. I sigh deeply, taking in the musky scent of the room around me, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I finally know what I’ll be writing about.

. . .

“Are you sure you know where this party is? I’m pretty sure we’re lost.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure they said it’s in this neighborhood… there should be a street coming up soon that starts with an S… or maybe it was a B. Whatever. We’ll start to see people on the street sooner or later and follow the noise to the right house.”

Calum and I continue to walk aimlessly down the suburban streets with houses that all look the same, in search for a party that I’m not even sure exists at this point.

“You’d think, for someone that probably went to every high school party, you’d know to write down an address when it’s given to you.” I grumble as my feet begin to ache.

“You know, you make a lot of assumptions about what I was like in high school. Weren’t you ever told not to assume?” He says, bumping his shoulder against mine.

“You’re really going to tell me that you never went to any parties in high school? I seriously doubt that.”

“Okay… Well, yeah I went to some parties. Didn’t everyone though?”

“What? No.” I scoff. “Dude, not everyone was invited to parties like Mr. Cool Guy over here.”

“Am I supposed to be Mr. Cool Guy? That’s a laugh.”

“Mate. Just admit it. You were one of the cool kids and you know it.” I bump my shoulder back against his.

“Was not.”

“You were to! Everyone knew who you were. Everyone wanted to either date you or be you. You can’t be that oblivious.” I kick a small pebble as we cross yet another unidentifiable street.

“Date me or be me huh? Did you want to be me?”

Fucking hell. Why am I still allowed to have the ability to speak without a filter?

“No.” I focus my gaze on the cracks in the sidewalk, making sure to avoid any possible eye contact.

It’s quiet for a moment as a car drives past us, filling the silence before Calum speaks again.

“Well, you obviously didn’t want to date me. So, your theory is clearly wrong.”

I walk beside him silently as I debate whether to admitting to the fact that I had the biggest crush on him for over a year when we were younger.

“See, I’m right.”

“I did though.” I choke out before I’m able to stop myself. Fuck.

“What?” He stops walking.

Well, this was fun while it lasted… I wonder if our professor will still let me join another group, seeing as Calum isn’t going to want to talk to me ever again.

May as well finish the job then.

“I did want to date you.” I confess softly as I stop in front of him, keeping my eyes on the ground.

“You’re not... gay though.”

I- What? He’s got to be kidding me right now. I’m pretty sure everyone in high school knew I was gay. Hell, I came out to my parents in the fifth grade.

“Are you fucking with me? Calum.” I finally gain the courage to meet my eyes with his and see him shaking his head. “I’m gay as fuck. Always have been.”

“No way. What about Jessica Hunter?”

We’re awkwardly standing in the middle of the sidewalk and I’m completely over-aware of the man walking his dog across the street as Calum continues to stare at me with a dumbstruck look on his face. Well, at least he hasn’t left yet.

“What about Jessica? She and I hang out from time to time and listen to music together. We’re friends.” Oh god. “Wait- are you thinking that her and I? Oh god. Never.” I shake my head to try and get that image out of it.

“No no... She was in love with you! The way she always talked about you, hung around you, and hung off you… You went to Prom together! You were the reason I never even had a chance with her. I spent so many hours thinking about you and why she chose you over me and I…” he tampers off and continues to look utterly confused.

Am I being Punked right now? There must be a hidden camera somewhere. This can’t be real.

“No Calum. Oh my god. Mate. Jessica and I were always together talking about you. She didn’t want me. She wanted you… We both did. We only went to Prom together cause she was still hung up on you and didn’t have the guts to ask you herself. Plus, you did that whole stag Prom thing with Timothy Anderson anyway.”

He continues to stand there, trying to piece together the story he had so wrongly created around himself.

“So… You’re gay.”

“Yup.”

“And you actually used to … like me?”

“Yup”

“And Jessica-“

“Never had a chance with me. Because I’m gay and she had the hots for you anyway… Are we all caught up? Can we please keep walking? I’m getting cold.”

“Man, did I have this whole thing wrong or what…” He shakes his head and starts walking again.

We continue heading to the party that totally doesn’t exist and get about half a block away from where we had previously stopped before Calum stops walking again.

“Dude! Seriously?” I sigh deeply and stop a few feet in front of him.

“You don’t uh… still have feeling for me or anything. Do you?”

“Yes Calum. I’m completely head over heels for you and plan to propose to you when we get to the party in front of everyone.” His mouth drops and I roll my eyes. “Fuck off. No. Cal, I don’t still have feelings for you. That was years ago. Now can we please keep walking? I’m going to fucking die of hypothermia.”

“Okay… you’re right. Sorry.” He mutters, clearly embarrassed and continues to walk again.

At least I’m not the only one that’s embarrassed.

We walk silently for a few minutes and I feel his fingertips brush against mine and my heart flutters softly. Shit.

. . .

“Are you even listening to me Mike?”

I look up from my phone to see Calum glaring at me. He burst into my dorm room about 45 minutes ago insisting we practice our presentation for the millionth time since he finished his essay. Of course, mine’s not finished yet, but at least I have something to write about now. But, without mine to practice, he’s just been reading his on a loop – I personally think he’s trying to annoy me to death. Jokes on him though, he’s got a nice voice.

“I can only hear your essay so many times before my brain starts to block it out to preserve my sanity.”

“You wouldn’t have to hear it so much if we had something else to practice… like, I don’t know- maybe your easy perhaps?”

How subtle. Ever since he finished his essay (overachiever much?), he’s been on my ass about mine. Even if I actually had it finished, there’s no way in Hell I’ll be letting him see this – let alone hear me read it out loud – until I have to.

“Dude. I’ve told you like eighty times now. I hate presenting stuff. I’m not doing it any more than I have to. Being in front of everyone, having them all stare at me- judging me? Fuck that. Once is enough. I don’t need you judging me too.”

“You honestly think I’m going to judge you? I don’t buy it. You’re Michael Clifford. You don’t give a shit about what other people think about you.”

I can’t help but laugh out loud. If only he knew.

“Well, when I’m putting myself out there in front of a whole room of people then yeah, I’m going to give a shit about what they think.”

“Putting yourself out there? Mate, it’s an essay. You sure you’re not just making up excuses to cover up the fact that you haven’t started writing it yet?”

Calum runs his finger through his hair, and I try not to stare. Why did he have to come to my school again, be in my class again, make my heart ache again. I feel like this time is worse. Being this close, not being able to touch him in the ways I want. Is this some horrible karma for complaining about longing? I shake my head at the joke that I call my love life and push past it like I always do.

“Maybe, but I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

He throws a pillow at me and tells me to shut up before beginning to read his presentation yet again.

. . .

As I approach Calum’s door, I look down at the folded mess of papers in my hands and decide to quickly shove them into my backpack to make sure he doesn’t try to take them and read my shitty essay beforehand.

I pull my bag off my back and drop to my knees to put the papers away. I finish zipping it up and throw it over my shoulder as I hear the door open in front of me. I look up and see an eye full of Calum’s junk. My eyes widen and I can feel my cheeks heat up as I quickly look away and stand up. I try not to look at his face and pray that my cheeks aren’t as red as they feel.

“At least buy me dinner first. Damn.” He laughs. The sound melts my worries away. Mostly.

“Fuck off. We’re going to be late.” I give him a shove and begin walking to the exit.

Walking with one another to our classes has become a part of our daily routine. Calum decided so about a month ago when he found out that I tripped and scrapped my elbow and knee open like a child while running to make it on time for one of my 8AM classes. So now he seems to think that I can’t manage walking to class by myself. I mean, I’m not complaining. I’ll take any time that I can get with him until inevitably ruin the best friendship I’ve ever had.

As we walk, Calum is -of course- rehearsing his presentation again. I sigh and think about the essay sitting in my bag and how he’s going to react to hearing it. Maybe he’ll just drop the class and ghost me. God that will hurt... Maybe I should just fake sick, or say I never finished my part of the project, or-

My spiraling thoughts are cut short by Calum opening the classroom door and I admit defeat. The two of us sit at our table still -sadly- located at the front of the room. As we sit down, I watch Calum pull out his papers and read them over as if he didn’t just prove that he’s got it memorized by reciting it on our walk over. I set up my laptop and shove my papers under it, quickly checking back to Calum to make sure he hasn’t noticed. I exhale softly and wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans before opening our Spotify playlist, preparing it for our presentation.

A dread-filed hour and a half passes as I listen to the other groups make their presentations and read through their playlists to try and distract myself.

“Group seven, you’re up.”

My blood goes cold and I feel like I can’t move. I feel Calum swiftly kick my shin under the table.

“That’s us. Get up.” He whispers

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I want to be back at home in my bed. I don’t want this. I don’t want to lose my friend. Why did I have to take this class? Why couldn’t I have been assigned anger. Why didn’t I just sit with those two girls that first day?

“Mike, it’ll be okay. I’ll be up there with you the whole time.” That’s half the problem, Calum.

I sigh deeply and open my eyes. They stay glued to the table as I pick up my laptop and the messy pile of papers underneath it. I walk slowly behind Calum to the front of the room and stop at the podium. I quickly plug my laptop into the screen behind us as he introduces the both of us to the class and begins to talk about the emotions we were assigned before launching into how they relate to one another and briefly talking about our playlist. I feel slightly reassured as he begins to recite the speech that I pretty much have memorized myself at this point. I allow myself to zone out to the sound of his voice as I wait for my cue.

“… and to me that is what love is to me. Family.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans again and pick up my papers with trembling hands. Closing my eyes again, I take another deep breath and open them once finished. Here goes everything.

“I- um- I’m Michael and I uh… I was assigned the emotion longing. When I first read the small paper and saw I had longing, I was confused and upset that my partner had such an easy emotion to talk about and I um… I had something as complex as longing…” I look over to Calum and he gives me a reassuring smile and my heart skips a beat. “Until he helped me realize that longing is pretty much the universal emotion. It branches into every emotion you can think of. It powers them and really brings the depth to them. Once I had realized this, the only issue I had was choosing which emotional experience to talk about. This itself seemed to be an impossible choice, so I’ve decided to talk about an experience that, like longing, incorporates every emotion. Heartbreak. My chosen song for this was No Idea by All Time Low. Song number…” I quickly look over at our playlist and count the sounds out to make sure I’m right before continuing, “seven on our playlist.”

I press play and I continue over the quiet music, telling the story of a young Michael who was in love with a boy that never knew he existed. A boy who broke his heart without ever even speaking to him. A boy who he was still desperately in love with, years later. A never-ending tale of longing.

Once the longest five minutes of my life had passed, I quickly unplug my laptop and hurry back to our table, avoiding eye contact with Calum the entire way back. I grab my books and shove them along with my laptop and essay into my bag. I damage my papers even more by doing so, but I could care less.

Throwing my backpack over my shoulder, I leave the room as I hear Calum call out after me. There’s no way he’ll catch up to me. Besides, my Sound Tech class was cancelled today, so even if he does manage to catch up, I won’t be there.

I finally make it back to my room without encountering Calum and I toss my bag onto my chair and dive face first into my bed to wait out the impending consequences for ambushing my best friend in the middle of a room full of people. Why did I do that. Fuck me.

. . .

Calum had been planning a party over the last few weeks to celebrate us finishing our project. I had told him time and time again that ‘finishing a project’ is the lamest reason to throw a party. But yet, here I am, in my room surrounded by the pulsating beats of music blasting down the dorm hall.

I’ve managed to avoid Calum for the past four days since the most embarrassing moment of my life. He’s tried texting and calling me too many times to count, and he even showed up to my dorm room twice. I, of course, pretended to be asleep both times.

So, I know it has to be Calum banging repeatedly on my door, throwing off the steady beats of music.

“Mike, it’s Calum. Can I come in?” I hear him shout through the door over the music.

I get up and turn the light off before returning to my desk to continue trying to focus on the game on my computer and pretending I’m not here.

“Mate! I saw you turn your light off! Michael! Open the door!”

The banging persists and my head sinks lower and lower into my shoulders. Go away. Please. I don’t want to hurt. Not tonight. Please.

“I’m not leaving! Maybe I’ll just ask one of those art kids for a sculpting knife and cut your door down! HA! You couldn’t avoid me if I did that! You wouldn’t even have a door to lock!” He slurs half of his words and it’s becoming clear that he’s drunk, and drunk Calum doesn’t quit.

I drop my head onto the desk and breathe deeply for a minute, listening to him yell at me through the door, before getting up and walking over to the sound. I pause there for a moment and prepare for the worst.

As soon as I open the door, Calum falls backwards onto my floor. How in the Hell…

“What do you want Calum? I’m busy.”

He stumbles back to his feet, swaying softly while he regains his balance in the centre of my dark room.

“You’re busy? You’re busy. That’s why you’ve been avoiding me for a week? Cause you’re busy?! Fuck off Michael.”

I say nothing as I lean against my open door, waiting for him to get this over with, so I can shut it behind him and go back to my self-loathing.

“Answer me!”

Clearly the silent treatment isn’t working here. I glance at the hallway full of people, some who have begun to stare at the two of us. I grit my teeth and shut the door, letting the darkness engulf my room, leaving only the light of my computer screen allowing us to see one another as we stand together in the center of the room.

“What the Hell do you want me to say?!”

“Well for starters, how about you tell me why the fuck you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t been-“

“Fuck off. You have, and you know it. Now tell me why.”

I shake my head and adjust my weight from foot to foot, shrugging to come up with an excuse.

“Oh. My. God. You’re impossible!” He pauses for a moment and takes a deep breath before I watch his posture soften. “Is this about what you said in your essay?”

I go stiff and remind myself to breathe.

“I knew it! At first, I didn’t think that was it, but it fucking was! Why are you avoiding me? Do you think I’m against your sexuality or some shit? Is that why you won’t talk to me? Cause that’s not true! You never even asked me about what I thought about it. About your feelings for me. How I would feel. About my feelings for- about your sexuality. Your sexuality, yeah... You just never asked me.” His face reddens at the last part, probably from lack of air after that speech.

I listen as he drunkenly rambles at me and try to think of something to say. How can he be right? He can’t be. I shouldn’t have to explain myself or my sexuality to him. Why would it matter what he thought about my sexuality?

“Your opinion of my sexuality isn’t needed Calum.” I say, shaking my head.

He sighs harshly and rubs his temples before stomping his foot. Did he actually just stop his foot? Is he five?

“Michael. That’s not what I’m saying! Listen to me! You’re so busy thinking about yourself and your feelings that you’re missing the bigger picture! You’re not the only person in this situation!”

“Oh, I’m sorry Calum. I’m so sorry my feelings were an inconvenience for you! You wanna talk about it? Let’s talk about it! Have my feelings for you ruined your college experience? Have my feelings for you kept you up every night? Have my feelings for you broken your heart?!”

He is silent for a moment before closing his eyes. His body sways softly as he runs his hands through his hair.

“No-” He sighs deeply before replying quietly, “your feelings for me didn’t do any of those things to me. Mine did.”

He opens his eyes and the light of the computer screen highlights the beautiful features of his skin as his words sink into mine.

I stand there with my jaw dropped, staring at the man in front of me. Did he just say… No. No. This is a sick joke. I feel a lump form in my throat begin to form.

“That’s not funny Calum.” I choke out softly.

“I’m not joking.”

“You’re straight.”

“I’m not! I’m Bisexual.” His cheeks redden softly in the pale blue light.

I stare at him in disbelief. He’s got to be drunk out of his mind to lie like this.

“You’re straight.” I repeat in an attempt to both reassure myself and convince him to stop the lies.

He runs his hands through his hair again and lets out an exasperated groan.

“Michael! Fuck! Why won’t you ever listen! I like you! I’ve been trying to tell you ever since you came out to me on the way to that shitty party. I only stopped myself cause you said you didn’t have feelings for me anymore. I’m bisexual Michael! Why do you think I went to Prom with Timothy?”

“That- that was just a stag thing…”

“I wasn’t ready to come out yet. Neither was he.”

He takes a step closer to me, making me overly aware of how small my dorm room actually is. I can smell his cologne and the alcohol -tequila? Yeah, tequila- wafting off him as the space between our bodies lessens.

“So, you’re… bisexual?”

The relief is visible as it washes over him. He smiles softly and takes another step towards me.

“And you… uh… you like me?”

“You wanna talk about it?” He whispers as his eyes drop to my lips.

“Calum, I-”

Before I can finish whatever stupid thing I was going to say, I feel his hands grab my face and his lips crash into mine. I close my eyes and return the kiss. My hands find their way into his hair as he pushes his body against mine. His hand leaves my cheek and finds its way up the back of my shirt, pulling my body impossibly closer to his.

This is more than I’ve ever dreamt of. Calum Hood. Calum Hood kissing me. His hair is softer than I could have ever imagined. I can taste the tequila on his tongue as it slips ever so slightly in between my lips and I suddenly remember how drunk he is. It takes every part of me to pull away and break the kiss.

“Calum. You’re drunk. I can’t.”

“I can.” He steps towards me with a slightly needy expression in his eyes.

“Calum.” I repeat sternly and step away, my back pressing against the door.

He lets out a defeated sigh as he turns around and walks over to the drawer where I keep my snacks.

“Do you have any bread?”

“I- uh… what?... Maybe, why?”

“I want to sober up so you’ll kiss me again.”

I laugh softly and walk over to help him look.

. . .

I wake up to the feeling of something heavy laying across my face. As I open my eyes and adjust my sights to the room around me, I realize the heavy thing on my face is actually Calum’s arm. The events of last night come back to me like a hurricane. Calum arriving at my dorm room drunk, Calum coming out to me as bisexual and confessing his feelings for me… Calum kissing me, and finally, Calum falling asleep beside me while waiting to sober up… I would say it was a dream, but I now have a red, arm-shaped mark on my face to prove otherwise.

I peel his arm off my head and his eyes shoot open, making me jump a little. I watch as he looks around the room and stops once his eyes meet mine. He smiles sweetly at me.

“Hi.” He says, his voice deep and raspy from just waking up.

“Hey there.” I whisper back.

“Guess what.”

“What.”

He smirks at me as his hand finds its way to my cheek and his body shifts towards mine.

“I think I’m finally sober.”

I exhale as my body relaxes from the tension and worry I didn’t realize I had about last night. I chew on my bottom lip as I wait for him to do something.

His eyes explore my face before slowing down at my lips just as they did last night. He blinks slowly and as his eyes open, I find them looking into mine again. He smiles softly as he closes them once more and leans forward, connecting his lips to mine. His pillowy lips kiss mine softly for the best minute of my life, and when he pulls away, he takes my breath with him. I am utterly awestruck by his beauty and the feeling of his lips on mine.

“How about you and I go on to dinner later and get to know the real us? No more assumptions and no more secrets.”

I nod and smile widely.

“I thought you’d never ask.” I agree as he grins before kissing me again.

#malum #the club gift exchange #for mandie #malum fic rec #soft malum #calum x michael #malum fic #malum one shot #5sos fic #5sos one shot #writings #mine

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ethelphantom · 5 years

Text

Always Been The Missing Piece

This is, uh, a sequel to the Maribat Secret Santa thing I wrote for @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry because Ailelie over at Ao3 gave me a good idea in the comments for an identity reveal fic because obviously they don't know the other isn't a civilian. So. Uh. I am planning at least one more sequel after this because I was given a perfect idea for BartAdrien identity reveal on the Maribat discord server and I need to write that too. Just, don't expect it to turn as long as either of these. And seriously, you really should read this only after Like You Could Be Family, because I seriously doubt this will make much sense without, but it's not like I will be able to actually stop you so....

(Also how the hell did I get to 13k? This has got to be the longest one-shot I've ever written please help me I have a problem)

Ao3 || First part | Third part

This is Maribat -- Don’t like; don’t read.

___________

“I don’t think disowning him is even necessary to make him my brother, and it seems there’s a chance we might become family regardless of whether this Bruce adopts me or not.”

Tim stared at the words written permanently on his wrist, rubbing the skin as though to see if they would smudge and leave. They did not. He had never truly thought of even getting a soulmate when he was young.

(Well, obviously he’d thought about it, rather often too. It was just that he always thought he wasn’t going to get one — either because his parents didn’t have one and he would surely be just like them, and then later, once he became Robin and later Red Robin, he thought that even if it wasn’t going to be because of his parents, then he wouldn’t get a soulmate because he wasn’t going to make it alive to 18.)

But, as all things that had anything to do with Fate always did, it didn’t go as he thought. After all, Fate was never quite so simple.

As it turned out, he made it to 18 and got a soulmark.

There was someone in the world Fate thought was the perfect match for him.

Then he for the longest time believed he would meet them while he was in the vigilante business because if his soulmate was a civilian, what would he even do? There was always a high chance of death because of what he did on a nightly basis, and it was certain he would have to disappear on multiple nights and occasions just to be Red Robin — no way he was going to give that up. That meant, that if he had a civilian romantic soulmate, they might accuse him of cheating, and then his life could be ruined because he was the damn CEO of Waye Enterprises and thus in the public eye all of the time. The words written on his wristed also sounded both like they could be romantic or platonic soulmates, since usually soulmates considered one another family of some sorts automatically — it didn’t necessarily mean his soulmate was speaking about one of his brothers becoming their brother-in-law. They all knew there was a chance Bruce would adopt his soulmate one day (no matter what they said about that being unnecessary.)

Then he actually met his soulmate.

He met Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

A sweet young woman almost his age, perhaps around a year younger than him (turns out he was right when she told him of herself later before he managed to go and search her up), with black hair the shade of midnight sky, her eyes blue as Morning Glories. She was kind, thoughtful, great at baking (she could so some pastries better than Alfred could, and that said a lot about her skills), and she shared Tim’s love of coffee (Dick had been horrified when he found her pouring energy drinks into extra strong black coffee after the first night she spent at the manor).

She was also MDC, Tim’s all-time favourite designer, and it was suddenly much easier to commission her when she could just show him the designs in person and talk about them — why she wanted this thing here and that thing somewhere else. Tim was also much more eager to pay her a whole lot more than what she ever asked for, even if that was partly because Marinette was trying her hardest to lower her prices for him.

Yeah no, that didn’t work with him at all — she was fantastic at what she did and he’d be damned if he let her do the work underpaid.

She never pushed his boundaries too far, only enough to have him open up a little, but because she never made him feel uncomfortable or like she was trying to use him, it was fine; He was horrible at opening up himself and wouldn’t have done it without her. It was clear she knew what was alright and what was not — most of the time anyway. And even when she did push his boundaries too far, it was because she tried to show her appreciation to him or got too excited, and when he or someone else pointed it out to her (because she was bad at noticing it herself), she immediately stopped doing the thing and apologised over and over because she never meant to violate his boundaries.

And then she made sure to never overstep it again unless he gave her the explicit permission to do so.

That told him more about her than many other things did or even could.

She was also intelligent, sassy and sarcastic when she wanted to be, had a strong sense of justice and he knew for a fact she knew how to fight and well. She’d mentioned having done martial arts for quite some time and because she made a complaint about having nearly no opponents on her level, Jason asked her if she wanted to try and spar with him. She agreed and won two out of three matches, and though there was a chance he was just holding back (unlikely, considering how much Jason had talked about it on patrol that night), Damian had challenged her after that and they came to a tie. Twice. Damian then won the last round, probably when he finally stopped underestimating her and holding back. There was no way she wasn’t good.

Marinette always tried to help people in need if she could and wouldn’t take no for an answer when she decided that a person beaten to a bloody pulp was in no condition to walk home, especially not alone. If she had to pay for the taxi to get them home, well, she did, never expecting anyone to pay back.

She was absolutely perfect, if you asked Tim.

The problem was, she was a civilian regardless of how well she fought or how intelligent she was. He could never risk her safety by being in a close relationship with her in case someone found out his identity and decided to use her against him. Wouldn’t be the first time that happened in vigilante business. It had given him enough of a heart attack to be with her while in civvies and get caught by the Riddler because of course he had to be there and there was nothing Tim could do to help her himself — the small and young CEO was not supposed to be able to punch a guy’s teeth in.

And then she’d gone and insulted his fashion taste. Tim agreed, definitely, that green and purple three-piece suit was atrocious, but it was a horrible idea if you were a civilian because the Riddler was extremely sensitive about his fashion choices and a villain and he had hardly any rules as to what he did and to whom, unlike some of the Rogues. Marinette didn’t even have any protective gear against him.

So yeah.

An almost-heart attack.

Turns out, she solved all of his riddles rather quickly, some of them with Tim once the Riddler noticed him, and in the end they all got out safely and unharmed.

At least half of the credit of that definitely went to Marinette.

The best course of action would either be to tell her, or cut ties with her, make her hate him or anything that got her out of the danger zone that came with being in a close relationship with him.

The second option was definitely not what he wanted.

And that was what led him to here, sitting at the table in the apartment he used (especially) when he needed an escape from his dear but way too invasive family with Kon and Bart.

“It’s just, I don’t know what to do! I like her, I really do, but I can hardly pursue a relationship with a civilian. I might endanger her life! We’ve seen that happen with enough many of us. Someone figures out our identity, kidnaps a loved one and puts them at risk. Or sees us too close to a civilian while in the suit and decides they’ll put the loved one at risk anyway. I can’t risk my soulmate’s life for something like that, she doesn’t deserve it,” Tim exclaimed, groaning as his head hit the table. Thank heavens Bart had pulled the plate from under him just in time before his forehead would have ended up in his food.

(Though it was likely he was going to lose half of his food to Bart as well, it was likely he was going to eat Tim’s food while Tim wasn’t there to protect it. Asshole friends and all that.)

Sure, Kon and Bart would have probably had fun watching him ruin his looks (and hair, especially his hair) because of the tomato sauce and spaghetti he somehow had not managed to burn, but maybe they were pitying him enough for his soulmate problems to not just let it happen for this one time. That, and he’d gotten injured in their latest fight and he would not honestly be surprised if they blamed themselves for it at least a little — that was what Tim kept doing if any of his teammates got injured when he was there and even theoretically could have helped.

“Tell her?” Bart suggested, shrugging as he filled his mouth with the spaghetti. From Tim’s plate. Oh well. Telling him to stop would probably not really help and it’s not like Tim couldn’t just steal Kon’s food later. Bart continued speaking as soon as his mouth was empty. “I don’t see why not. If she’s as amazing as you make her out to be, I can’t see a reason why you shouldn’t tell her. I’m gonna tell Adrien, by the way.”

“Do you have any idea when you’re going to do it?”

“Nope, but not yet ‘cause I don’t think it’s fair or appropriate since Paris just declared their heroes dead ‘cause they haven’t made any appearances — but that’s not to say they don’t know where the bodies are, perhaps they’re just protecting them? — in quite the while, but I will soon enough. Wouldn’t be fair to him to keep it a secret, right?” he chuckled and chewed on his (Tim’s) food.

Oh yeah. Paris’ heroes, the ones that were apparently dead. The heroes they had thought didn’t actually exist and were just a make-believe story to entertain people until Paris held a public memorial for them because they were nowhere to be found and told the people they just hadn’t found their corpses, but maybe that was just to protect their identities. The reminder they hadn’t helped them with their villain felt like a punch in the gut to Tim now, even if he hadn’t been the one to make the decision to not help.

He shook the thoughts away. This was not the time for blaming himself or anyone else for it, he could very well do that later.

“Kon?”

“I agree with Bart. If you think she’s good for you, I think it’s better if you just told her. It’s not like you would want to just cut ties with her to protect her and hurt the both of you at the process. It would definitely be like you, but I know you don’t want to do that to the one person meant for you.”

Tim sighed and stole his plate back. It was significantly emptier than it had been two minutes ago. Damn Bart. As a last-ditch effort, he stole Kon’s plate and scooped some of his food to his own plate, ignoring the rather offended look on Kon’s face. His fault, he hadn’t protected Tim’s food from Bart. Besides, Tim needed to eat something proper, after all. It might have been a little too long since the last time he ate more than an energy bar… so probably around three days since.

No wonder he was the smallest of them.

Munching on his food, he sunk back into his thoughts while Bart and Kon chatted animatedly, the few words he picked up indicating the conversation was about soulmates and Adrien in particular.

It had been a few weeks since he and Bart met their soulmates, but both of them were definitely interested in them — likely romantically, but only time would tell for sure. Marinette was amazing and sweet and Adrien must have been the only one as much of a sunshine child as Bart was, though according to Marinette, he could be a little shit when he felt like it. Then Bart and Kon had overheard Marinette discussing Adrien’s father with someone and turns out, Bart was ready to run to Paris and kick the man’s ass himself, regardless of whether he was in prison for being a supervillain and terrorising the city for years or not. Not that Tim would have stopped him. After all, Stephanie too had decided to ruin his father’s plans when it turned out he’d become a villain.

...That was something Adrien could probably bond over with Stephanie at some point. Maybe they’d found the “my dad’s a supervillain and I had nothing to do with it” club.

(“The list of bad dads just grows and grows,” Tim swore he’d heard Bart say afterwards with a suspicious grin on his face. Tim wouldn’t disagree with him though, he could name quite the number of them himself as well, one of them being his very own father.)

Then Marinette had heard Bart declare war on Gabriel Agreste and immediately told him she was joining — according to her, he didn’t have a choice in the matter because she really wanted to kick his ass again.

(Again? When had she managed to do it in the first place?)

So yeah. Having a civilian soulmate was difficult.

Then again… What if he made her a vigilante? She did possess all of the necessary qualities and even more to become a good vigilante that he could think of. Perhaps he should ask her if she’d like to do that. After all, she was now family, both Bruce and Dick had declared so (rather clearly and Dick loudly), accompanied by Alfred’s nods, Jason’s approving humming (and the way he started treating her better than he did most of the family), Cass’ silent approval visible in her smile as she looked at Marinette, and a little reluctant Damian as well.

It wouldn’t matter she didn’t have any superpowers like some people did — none of the family did, and they were all great at what they did, even if Gotham was nearly impossible to save at this point anymore. She was already good at martial arts, knew how to take care of herself (if it didn’t mean her inability to eat when she was supposed to or her reluctance to go to sleep (nightmares, perhaps?), but she knew how to defend herself and others.) She would make a good vigilante, especially with some special and personalised training. Now he only needed it approved by the rest of the family because she could and would put two and two together and realise all of them were involved with the vigilante business if he came clean to her as one.

Actually, that sounded like a good idea.

Then his phone chimed on the coffee table in the living room and he all but ran there, injuries be damned.

“Hey, careful there, you wouldn’t want us to tell Alfred you need new stitches,” Kon called after him before turning to Bart. “How much do you want to bet that was Marinette messaging him right there?”

“Nope, not betting anything when we both know full well it was Mari. There’s no one else he’d practically dive out of the table for and leave his food unguarded with us. Speaking of...”

“Bart! Do not even think about eating my food while I’m gone! It better be still there untouched when I come back, or so help me god I will kick your ass back to the next millennium!”

Bart just snickered.

God, why was he even friends with Bart?

Oh yeah, because he didn’t know how to live on without him (or Kon) anymore anyway.

⬷۵⤐

Marinette paced around her room in the Manor, panic clearly showing on her face. Adrien sat on the bed placed near the wall, leaning to it, seemingly unconcerned. He was mostly waiting for Marinette to calm down enough to stay still and just listen for a second in between her freak outs.

Thank kwamii for the fact they had gotten Wayzz to secure the room and create a shell in which they could talk without needing to worry whether someone heard them or not. No one would. They were safe.

...They also wouldn’t disturb anyone with it since it was way past midnight already.

“But this ruins everything!” Marinette exclaimed, finally standing in one place long enough for Adrien to decide paying attention to her would be worth it. Or, could be worth it.

Adrien rested his chin on his palm, tilting his head. “Now, Buginette, I love you and all, but this is getting ridiculous, utterly ridiculous (“Don’t you dare sound like Chloé right now, Adrien!”) Are you sure you need to panic about all this? As far as I see it, you could just, I don’t know, tell him. Gabriel isn’t a threat anymore, and even if he was, we aren’t in Paris,” he said, and plopped down on the bed, propping one leg on his knee. Plagg seated himself on Adrien’s head, ready to take a nap, while Tikki had nestled on Marinette’s shoulder. It was amazing how she was so used to Marinette freaking out that she could just stay calm on even a pacing Marinette.

“I know I could tell him because Gabriel is behind bars, and I should tell Tim because otherwise it won’t be fair to him and I like him, probably romantically soon, and I can’t let myself pursue a romantic relationship with anyone that doesn’t know because it’s too much to keep a secret, but I have no idea how to! What if I scare him off because right now it looks like the both of us are staying here in Gotham — or at least the States — and knowing the two of us, we won’t be able to just quit hero work either! Speaking of which, we have to design ourselves new suits because Paris just declared us dead like a week ago. Not Marinette and Adrien, obviously, but Chat Noir and Ladybug. Understandable, we just disappeared after the fight with Papillon and there’s no way anyone would believe him if he said he didn’t hurt us so why would they believe he didn’t also kill us and—”

“Nette, please, try to breathe and calm down. It’s not that serious of a situation,” Adrien tried but Marinette had resumed pacing around and it was clear as day she was freaking out. It was also clear she wasn’t listening to a word he said anymore, and barely even paid attention to the fact she wasn’t, in fact, alone in the room in general. He sighed and stood up, grabbing his best friend by the shoulders. Plagg shrieked before he shut his mouth because of his holder’s sudden movement.

Now that had her stop and concentrate her attention on him again.

“I know it’s difficult for you to reveal your identity to anyone, including me even long after I realised my behaviour was a big no-no and apologised to you, and that’s fine. It just means you’re being responsible. But. This is your soulmate we’re talking about. There are so many reasons why you should tell him and you know that if you don’t, whatever relationship you might end up in with Tim might go horribly wrong if all the while you’re keeping a secret such as this from him.” Adrien took a deep breath and looked Marinette directly in the eyes. “I am well aware you like him like, a lot, so there’s no way you’d want to risk losing him in either way — by putting him in danger or by having him tell he can’t take you disappearing on him all the time anymore.”

Damnit. Adrien was right. Marinette hated it when Adrien was right. Mostly, because usually when Adrien was right and even she had to admit it because it was so obvious, it meant that the kwamii also agreed with him. And well. When Tikki, the literal miniature goddess of creation, said something should be done, her word was final. She had no way out of this, now did she?

“Nope!” said Tikki from next to her ear.

Oh. She’d said that out loud. For crying out loud.

But yeah, she truly did like Tim, a lot. He was smart, could banter with her rather easily without ever making her uncomfortable by doing so, was never put off by sarcasm (which was, unfortunately, quite rare nowadays and that meant she found it rather refreshing), and he was kind. Also, he had a huge sweet-tooth and mostly a good taste which meant she could freely bake a lot and Tim would likely enjoy any and all of it. She could use him to test new recipes, too.

She also liked his appearance — a lot. His looks were definitely nothing to scoff at. His hair was black and silky, and his eyes were so enchantingly blue (as were many of his brothers’ and Conner’s, if she was being honest, but his were her favourites) and she couldn't help but just drown in them. He genuinely liked her designs (he says he loves them, her mind not so helpfully reminded her, because that made it even better and even harder to let go of him if the need be), he wasn’t pretending to do so because they were soulmates. Tim also had such great ideas for new clothing sometimes — he had been a massive help with the design for her latest dress that she was planning on making for the up-coming Wayne Gala where he (and the rest of the family) had invited her.

Yeah, and Tim knew how to paint nails a little too well. Marinette was certainly going to use that little fact to her advantage and have him do her nails at some point.

Marinette also truly enjoyed spending time with his family and him. All of them respected her at least on some level (gave her the basic respect Jagged had taught everyone was supposed to give her automatically unless she actually did something to warrant them to lose said respect) and didn't try to have her bake or design clothes for them or have her do their chores they were supposed to do because they wanted a little more time to themselves — especially not for free. Never for free. And, even if they did ask her to do something for them (usually it was Jay or Dick doing so), they never failed to remind her she could say no and that depending on what they asked her to do they’d compensate it to her as soon as possible in whatever form she wanted — whether that be money or new fabric or favours or them helping her the next time she baked something.

They didn’t take her for granted, and that was freeing.

She was genuinely happy to spend time with them. Their presence, especially Tim’s, was comforting to her, with him it was safe for her to just be herself.

Yeah, she was too far gone for one Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne and definitely did not want to lose him. She could only hope she was someone Tim could be himself with as well.

Honestly, her biggest problem with all and any of this was that Tim was a civilian and in case someone found out he was close to her, it would be no good for him to know. If the threat was magical, there was no way he could fight it off even if he was anything like his brothers when it came to fighting (she just didn’t know, but she did suspect he was). She herself could get out of problematic situations rather easily, but there was no telling just how bad situation could get until Tim would no longer have any way to get away. She figured he had to have at least some kind of basic training because so many in his family seemed to know martial arts, he lived in Gotham and was a CEO, but she had no idea to what extent he could protect himself.

And indeed, because the miraculous considered her an adult now and she no longer had a time limit after she used her special ability (whatever it was depending on the miraculous), it meant there was no way she would even consider stopping. Of course, she still tried not to push too far after she did use that ability as to not exhaust the kwami she was using too much and she’d made it her point to wear multiple miraculouses at once at all times so even if she had to detransform to let one kwami rest, she wouldn’t need to stop fighting right away or wait until they recharged.

In a city like Gotham where she could be needed, this all meant she could not stop being a hero. (Though, she knew that Batman wasn’t known for being too fond of magic users, or metas, whatever it was they called them, so she would need to have him somehow accept her presence or prepare to fight him and perhaps also all of his team that seemed to actually be his family — especially Robin seemed to still be a little child, younger than her when she received her miraculous.) Not since they had seemed to decide they were going nowhere from there, most of all not Paris.

They were never going to return, they really didn’t want to do so, what with the entire city being full of traumatic memories to them. Maybe they’d visit Kagami and Luka and her parents, maybe his aunt and cousin, but otherwise, no. Besides, their soulmates were both here, they had hardly any people they had good relationships with in Paris anymore because they’d both eventually stood up to their class, Gabriel was in prison — which, in turn, meant that the majority of Paris blamed Papillon’s actions on Adrien at least on some level. It didn’t matter to them that he had said that no, he had nothing to do with his father’s actions, and that his father actually abused him and he was glad to be finally free from him.

It wasn’t like they didn’t have a list of excuses to stay.

(Marinette wasn’t going to admit it any time soon, but she had an actual list of the excuses to stay written down in case someone asked her and her brain wouldn’t agree on cooperating at that time. It was also partly in case she ended up mentioning there were many, many, many reasons for them to stay and someone asked for a list; This way she could literally provide them with one. It was both on multiple papers and notebooks and on her phone — after all, back-up copies were very useful.)

Yet another reason as to why she should tell Tim — even though her Miraculous Cure healed and restored almost anything, it had mostly stopped working on her as it drew its energy from both her and Tikki, and now she was full of scars. Sure, it mostly healed the biggest injuries so she was rarely limping or bleeding long, and they never became devastating, but well. It still wasn’t any good that she had to keep covering some of the scars behind layers of makeup or hide them under clothing. Thank kwami Adrien had yet to report the same was happening to him.

There was no way Tim wouldn’t discover the scars’ existence at some point, regardless of whether their soulbond was romantic or platonic (although she certainly hoped it was romantic), so it would be far better to just come clean about it before he eventually found out about them on his own anyway.

So yeah.

She also had a long list of very good reasons to tell Tim.

The problem here was, she had no idea how.

She could hardly just walk up to him and blurt out she was Ladybug when it had just been announced that Ladybug (and Chat Noir at that, but it was up to Adrien to decide whether he wanted to tell his identity to anyone aside from Bart — he likely wanted to tell him) were dead, she would have to come up with a better plan to that. A lot better plan.

But perhaps… perhaps if she presented him with a miraculous and asked him to fight alongside her and Adrien�� Maybe Bart could be there as well if Adrien considered it a good idea?

“Hey, Adrien, what do you think? Would Tim be a good miraculous user? And how about Bart?” she asked. Fiddling with the mouse necklace she was wearing, Marinette turned to look at Adrien who had, at some point, left from her side. Mullo was sleeping somewhere inside her hood. “They both seem like people that would like to help others if they could — I mean, Tim already tries as a CEO and I simply don’t know Bart that well yet — but I don’t know. I want to hear your opinion on this as well because even if I am now the guardian and could technically just do whatever the hell I wanted, you’re still my partner in crime… fighting, and since some of my previous choices weren’t too good…”

Yeah, she did mean Alya and Nino. Also others, but those she’d trusted the most, so…

“Are you seriously asking me if I’d like to have both our soulmates by our side if— no, when we are fighting possibly magic-based crime in Gotham or elsewhere in the States?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. She nodded slowly. Adrien arched an eyebrow as he looked at her like she had made the stupidest question he had ever heard in his life before. “Duh, obviously, of course I want them there. Bart would be good. He’s so fast already — no, seriously, I swear, he’s quicker at doing things than Plagg is at eating camembert —, he’s a quick thinker and okay, he’s a little impulsive, but most of the time his ideas haven’t been that horrible, so a miraculous could probably enhance all of it in a good way.”

“And Tim’s got a good sense of justice and he’s one of the smartest people I’ve met. He’d be great at any strategic positions and— you know, I think he could work either the snake or the dragon miraculous really well.”

Adrien nodded enthusiastically. “Now you’re talking my language. Mayhaps the fox miraculous would be good for Bart, he’d get to be creative and I’m sure if he got up to any mischief, Trixx would only be more than happy to help. Or maybe the horse— actually, no, forget about that, I don’t think that’s a good idea because he might get the idea to send us all to anywhere in the world because it seemed like a good idea to him for all of two seconds and that’s the one thing that would make everything really problematic.” Adrien sunk into his thought for a moment, tapping his nose with his finger absent-mindedly as he tried to think of something else. Then his eyes brightened as he came up with an idea.

“Oh, the turtle! He’s quick so it wouldn’t take him long to protect those in need of it, and maybe in some moments when he’s too impulsive, Wayzz could be there as a voice of reason and common sense in his head. I don’t actually mind his impulsiveness at all but sometimes all of us could use a Wayzz to help us slow down a little.”

Wayzz himself looked torn between agreeing, and strongly disagreeing and escaping before Adrien could convince Marinette to give him to Bart.

“I’m seriously considering this now. I have no idea how to give them one, though. It isn’t as simple as it would have been in Papillon’s Paris — we don’t have a Miraculous threat here and no one knows us. I mean, they’ve probably heard of the deceased Ladybug and Chat Noir, but not the ones we’re going to become. We can hardly just swing up to them and be like “hey have you ever wanted to be a hero? Well, here’s a miraculous that will transform you into a magical superhero with the help of jewellery and a god like in some anime—” God damn it Adrien, now I consider transforming into LB the same kind of thing as your anime’s girls with objects to make them magically transform.”

“They’re magical girls, actually. And well, I have to say, we kind of are magical girls, you know. Magical transformation, magic, magic provided superpowers, magical healing, double lives, way too obvious costumes for anyone to not figure out our identity yet none of them do it anyway… Oh, and we have specific words to transform us along with magical accessories or jewellery and we have a literal transformation choreography! Clearly magical girls!”

“Magical girls, then, whatever. Never compare us to them again.”

Adrien just snickered.

“Ugh, shut up, will you?”

“Of course. But yeah, you’re right, we can’t just appear behind their windows and give them a miraculous. That would be just stupid and irresponsible, now wouldn’t it?”

“Why do you sound so sarcastic?”

“That might be because I kind of am.”

“Go away.”

She had no idea how she could still stand Adrien. Why was he her best friend again?

Oh yeah.

Because he was the one who had stood right there by her side through thick and thin.

That’s why.

⬷۵⤐

“So. Let me get this straight—”

“In this family?”

“Shut up, Jaybird. So, what you’re saying is, you want to reveal us all to your girlfriend because you don’t want to keep secrets this big from her?”

Tim sighed and ran a hand down his face, exasperated. Hadn’t he just explained this? “No, Dick, first of all, she’s not my girlfriend — at least yet. What I’m asking is if it’s okay to everyone I tell her I’m Red Robin and get her to start training so she can become a vigilante as well. She’d be good at it. I don’t want to keep my identity from her in case we do start dating because then what if she thinks I’m cheating on her or up to some other not-good stuff when I keep sneaking out in the middle of the night and can’t even tell her what for.”

“And why do you want her to be a vigilante? You know it’s dangerous.”

“Then why is any of us doing it? It would anyway be her choice. Besides, if she was fighting beside me, she wouldn’t even need to worry about me that much because she could technically probably see me and not have to stay at home, you know? I know I can see there’s something in her that reminds me a lot of most of us, the need to fight for justice and for those in need of help because no one else does either. I can see the crave to fight in her.”

Dick sighed and tilted his head, his expression hard as steel. “You really thought this through, didn’t you?”

“Obviously. And as to why I’m asking you is because she’s actually smart and would definitely put two and two together when I tell her I’m Red Robin; The likeliness of Robin, Red Robin, Batman, Nightwing, Batgirl, Red Hood — yes, Jason, you too, have you seen the giant red bat on your chest you insist on wearing even though you claim to detest us half the time because we all can see it —, Black Bat, the Signal and the rest of us being close with each other, if not family, is quite high. Basically, she would most likely connect you all to the vigilantes running around.”

Bruce crossed his arms over his chest and shot him the Batdad-Look™, and if he hadn’t been so determined to get them to agree, it would have probably made him a… little too nervous to keep on talking. Alas, it wasn’t going to make him stop because he really, really wanted Marinette to fight beside him and if it meant he needed to bear with Bruce’s Batdad-Looks™, then so be it. He was not about to go down without first putting up a fight.

Tim couldn’t even explain how grateful he was for the fact Bruce stayed quiet despite the expression on his face. It helped his situation a little.

Instead, it did not help that he could feel Cass’ eyes on his back. She was sitting on the ground a small distance away from them, probably reading all of them like they were open books. He decided to ignore it for now — there was really nothing else he could do.

“And you know she’s a good fighter — you saw her spar with Jason! You saw how she fought against Damian who actually, officially challenged her, like she were equal. He doesn’t do that too often. We all also know neither of them wasn’t holding back too much on second matched anymore, if at all in the in the third one. She only lost once they stopped holding back and even then she put up a good fight — the matches weren’t over in minutes. Like, we’ve all gotten training from at least the Bat himself, likely from many others too. She has not. That makes it an impressive feat. With training, she could probably be one of the best of us!”

Steph lifted her hands above her head as to surrender and to draw attention to herself. “Alright, I’m cool with it. Timmy’s passionate about his cause and also I like Mari. It could be fun to have her in the team.”

Thank goodness, at least someone was on his side.

Dick’s phone chimes and he looks at the message, groaning when he reads it. “Babs told me to tell you all that she also says yes, that she trusts Marinette with all of this if others are fine with it as well,” he says slowly, before he puts his phone away. It’s strange seeing him not cheerful, but Tim can’t afford to care about it too much now .

Another voice spoke up softly. “I think… Marinette makes a good fighter,” Cass said from her spot, resting her body weight on her arms with the flats of her palms on the ground. She seemed thoughtful. Her words carried a meaning all of them understood, even if she didn’t say it out loud — she liked her too and wanted her in, but that she too would like Marinette to get some training first before letting her out.

Just in case.

They knew she wanted to lose people just as much as the rest of them — which meant, she didn't want to lose any more people she cared about.

Then, a sigh. “Yeah, gotta agree. Could be nice to have her on our side, she’s fun. And Timber’s right, she does seem like she’s achin’ to go fight a bitch. It’d be better if we made sure she’s got the necessary skills and stuff, and I’d rather not have to fight her because one of us considers her an enemy or because she thinks that of us. Girl’s got some mad skills. Also, B, if you think about it for a second longer, I’m sure you’d realise that if there’s a chance she is going out anyway, I’m sure you’d prefer she followed your rules, too, right?”

Tim… wasn’t sure when the last time he’d been grateful for Jason’s input had last occurred, but he was certainly ready to let Jason do whatever the hell he wanted with criminals during their next patrol together, that’s how grateful he was. Yes, even if it meant Jason shooting them in the fucking kneecaps.

“Yes, but she’s still—”

“She’s what, Grayson? She put up a respectable fight even thought she’s still clearly inferior to me, but I do not doubt she could do the same in the field. Her skills most certainly require improvement and bettering, and she needs to fine her techniques if she wants to hold her own out there without getting killed, but I’m certain she’s more than capable of getting to Todd’s level with guidance.”

Okay, wow. Damian was defending Marinette. He definitely needed to tell this to her — he was sure she’s appreciate hearing the little demon of the family respected her enough to speak up against Dick and his father, the only ones of them he’d ever openly admitted held his respect, even if he didn’t necessarily word it as “I respect you” or “you have my respect.” It seemed Marinette got the honor of being the third one, and she had been family for all of some weeks. She’d even gotten him to use the word “respectable” when talking about her.

She got him admitting to all of them, all of them, that he thought she was good and worth his respect. Now that was something.

So, Tim also appreciated him speaking up. This tiny (alright so he may not have been that tiny anymore and there’s a chance Damian was now taller than Tim, but who cared, he would always be tiny to Tim) teenager was still the only biological child of Bruce and also one of the hardest of them to impress, so if he said something of this sort about anyone (the last time it was something about Jon but Tim hadn’t cared enough to remember what it actually was about anymore), everyone would at least listen to him before simply jumping to decisions.

So yeah. If there ever was a time Tim wanted nothing more than to take his little brother out and let him find a few new animals to keep as pets, even if they weren’t good as pets, it was now. It certainly was now.

“I’m siding with Tim here — don’t give me that look, Dick, the ones already sided with him are scarier and more dangerous than you and Bruce together, so even if I didn’t agree, his side would be the wiser choice—”, Duke starts, shrugging, though there was a clear smile on his face. “But like, Marinette’s nice, like actually nice, and if she’s going to become family anyway, I don’t see why we couldn’t have her in this as well. Tim has a good point — several good points, actually, so the logic is also on his side.”

Yeah, Tim certainly couldn’t hide his smile any longer. Only Dick and Bruce were yet to say yes. Maybe he could actually do this.

Of course, he was not going to go through with any of this if all of them didn’t agree. He could risk his own identity to his soulmate, but there was no way he was going to force anyone else to do so for anyone, least of all for someone that wasn’t literally linked to them by their very soul. He would never compromise all of them for one person.

“Okay, fine. It seems everyone else is saying yes, so I guess I’m outvoted here. I just want every one of you to stay safe, you know? I don’t want this to end up being the reason any of you gets hurt.”

Yes, Tim knew that. Regardless of how annoying Dick managed to get a lot of the time, or how frustratingly stubborn he always was, or how his attitude was irritatingly similar to Bruce’s even when their personalities weren’t even remotely similar most of the time (that one was probably causation of Bruce taking care of Dick for like a decade), there was never any doubt his love or concern for any of them wasn’t genuine. That much was more than obvious.

He managed to give Dick a small smile, hoping it would convey he was grateful he finally said yes.

Now there was only one left to convince.

The most difficult of them (if you didn’t count Damian in, anyway) to convert.

Bruce was stubborn as hell when he wanted to, but seeing as he was stubborn even if he wasn’t trying to be, this could either be easy or the most difficult thing Tim had ever done. It had taken him a while to convince Bruce to make him Robin, but back then all he was trying was to have him take himself in and train him; Back then Tim wasn’t planning on telling his identity to someone who didn’t know yet, someone who could figure out the rest of them as well, and then have her trained to become one of them. Tim knew it, it was a lot to ask, but he wanted to do it anyway. It was important to him, alright?

Tim turned to look at Bruce. “Well? How is it?” He placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head, waiting for an answer. Any answer, really.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Tim. What if something happens to her? Or what if something happens to you? Or any of your siblings?”

“But what if something happens to her because I didn’t tell her? And besides, something could happen to any of us at any given time, given what we all do on nightly basis. We could have also just not done it, but we are doing it anyway and like hell is any of us going to just quit. Out world is full of what-ifs, we cannot help them, and I’ll be damned if I let them make me lose the one person actually made for me, the one person that I was tailored to.”

“With all due respect, Master Bruce, I must say, you have told your identity — even if only subtly hinted at it with a very specific set of words so that it’s enough for them to make the connection — so many times that I think you can hardly be against this. None of them were even your soulmate. Need I remind you of who everyone knew or found out without ever even becoming one of us? At least Master Tim is planning on bringing her in on all of this and planning to have her properly trained,” Alfred said, appearing in the doorway behind Bruce.

So sure, Cass and Damian knew exactly how to seemingly just appear and reappear without anyone noticing as though they could teleport, sure, Commissioner Gordon always complained about Batman doing it, and sure, the rest of them knew how to blend in with the shadows (they just didn’t always do it), but Alfred also seemed to possess this skill — better than most of them, anyway. Tim had absolutely no idea how, but he wasn’t about to complain.

Besides, it was Alfred, so it wasn’t surprising. Honestly, was there anything the man couldn’t do?

But the thing is, Alfred was also right. He had let Rachel Dawes find out. He let commissioner Gordon find out. Mr. Fox knew because Bruce had asked for help and equipment he then used as Batman while he was being Bruce Wayne — now that right there had never even seen subtle hinting. A whole lot of other people knew as well, though many had found out on their own — such as Tim, while some found out because of other, not so lovely circumstances, like Selina.

So, all in all, Bruce was the worst of them to say anything about it. True, he was mostly protective of them, always thinking up the worst-case scenarios about everything, something Tim himself did as well because that was the easiest way to make sure they were prepared for absolutely anything and everything, but Tim trusted Marinette. He wanted to trust her, just like Bruce had trusted some people. And in any case, he’d rather trust than live his life in suspicion of most people, like some people he knew did. Like Bruce.

Bruce opened his mouth to say something, but as nothing came out, he just closed it again. A defeated sigh slipped past his lips and he let go of the tensity in his shoulders, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine, I can see when I’ve lost. I want to meet her soon after you tell her, maybe right away after it, though, regardless of whether she makes the connection or not. I would prefer if all of you were here then,” he said, motioning at all of them before he placed his hand on Tim’s shoulder. “And that you—” he cast a pointed look at Tim, “—tell us when you are going to do it. I trust that you understand what you’re doing. I do not want to find out Ms. Dupain-Cheng is a danger to any of you, but especially you.”

“Of course. I take full responsibility of her and her training—”

“No you won’t. I’ll do that, although I do expect you to be there for her and to be a major help. I’m still your father and I don’t care if you’re already 19, because I’m not letting my children be that much of adults just yet.”

“Hey!”

Bruce just smiled (a tense smile, one that was half-forced on his face) and left all of them (except Cass whom Tim couldn’t see anywhere anymore) behind, gaping.

“Did he just—”

“Oh my god he totally did!”

“Please tell me someone recorded B calling himself a father and calling us his children.”

Tim had a vague suspicion that Cass had indeed recorded it, was going to send it to all of them, and then, depending on the reactions to it, would send a voice message of her laughing to their group chat.

Well, that definitely went better than he thought.

⬷۵⤐

“You know, I’m glad I have you as my soulmate,” Marinette began around a week later as they were sitting in the living room of the Wayne Manor. She snuggled closer to him and Tim wrapped an arm around her, comfortable and relaxed for the first time in a few days. “I’ve known you for not that long, but I already know I don’t want to lose you.”

She reached for his hand and took it in her own. Tim squeezed her hand back.

“Me neither.” Tim saw this as an opening — after all, most, if not all, of his reasons to tell Marinette who he was and all his plans about how exactly he should do it were born from the idea that he didn’t want to lose her. And so, he stood up, still holding her hand, and pressed a light kiss on it. “I need to show you something important. Will you follow me?”

A soft laughed escaped from Marinette as she replied, smiling, “Always, to the ends of the world.”

Marinette let herself be pulled up to her feet and led through the endless dark hallways of the manor. He quickly shot a message (“I’m prepared to do it, I’m taking her down now. Be there in five”) to the group chat before putting his phone away. When it vibrates in his pocket, he first looked at Marinette as though to make sure it was fine with her if he checked and possibly answered — after all, he knew it wasn’t too urgent or they would have called, and as far as Marinette was aware, this was supposed to be their time together to get to know each other better and all, not time for either of them to spend talking to other people via phone —, the corners of his lips turning upwards at her when she nodded with a smile on her face.

It seemed smiles liked to creep up on his face a lot more now that Marinette was around.

The message was from Jason, and Tim rolled his eyes fondly at it.

I thought you were supposed to tell her instead of fighting her, babybird.

shut up jason

You know pwefectly well what taking her down means int his case

Oh yes, I most definitely do.

It’s just so much fun reminding you of the existence of double meanings you either use to insult people or forget about completely.

But yeah, we’ll be ready.

“One of your brothers?”

“Yep. Jason is being a cumberworld.”

“And him being a cumberworld definitely makes you grin and roll your eyes as though he merely made a stupid joke and you, unfortunately, thought it rather amusing. Got it.”

“Wait. You actually know what it means?”

“Duh, obviously. After listening to you and your family for a while, it seemed like a good idea to do some research on different English insults so they wouldn’t fly by me all the time.”

Tim snorted. Of course. Only Marinette would. Only her. Everyone else outside of their family seemed to give up on trying to understand after a little while, but noooo, this girl decided she was going to spend extra time doing some research just to be able to understand — that, and also most likely to be able to laugh at them. She definitely fit in just fine.

It didn’t take them too long after that to get to the main study in the manor that Tim had earlier told her was Bruce’s and told her not to go in. Maybe that was why Marinette now looked quite nervous and anxious as he unlocked the door and pushed it open, motioning for her to go in.

“Are you sure we can go in here? Mr Wayne— I mean, Bruce, isn’t going to get mad at us? And you aren’t about to kill me, right?” she laughed, trying to mask her nervousness with humour, but walked in anyway. She relaxed a little and the tensity in her shoulders slipped away the slightest bit as Tim shook his head as no.

He walked to the grandfather clock in the room and let go of Marinette’s hand in order to be able to turn the hands of the clock. The clock hit 10:48 (Tim had always thought there was no one more grim than the Batman but then he actually met Bruce Wayne and found out you needed to turn the clock to show the time Bruce’s parents had been murdered, and was just like that forced to change his view on the matter) and the panel unlocked, opening the door hidden from view behind the clock.

Marinette’s jaw dropped open. This was most certainly not what she had been expecting, that much was sure.

“Well then, my fair lady, shall we enter?” he asked, grinning at Marinette’s flabbergasted expression even as she walked closer and tried to figure out where the entrance would take them.

She could keep trying; he was not about to tell her just yet.

The elevator took them down and soon enough, they were in the cave. He stepped out of the doors and waited for Marinette to follow him.

“...Where are we?” she asked, her voice a little strained.

“Uh.”

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, where in the world exactly did you take me?”

It seemed actually telling her turned out a little more difficult than he thought. Well, no use crying now — he couldn’t just brush off all of this like he hadn’t just taken his soulmate down to the Batcave either.

“Alright. So, this might come as a shock and for the love of all that’s still holy and sacred in this world please do not freak out. I just decided I needed to tell you this before we consider pursuing any relationship on a deeper and closer level than what we have now, regardless of in what sense it would be.

Marinette nodded slowly, encouraging him to go on even as she seemed suspicious (and anxious) about what was going on. Perhaps that was a good thing since they were in Gotham, in the city where you never knew who the person in front of you was or what they did in their free time (or at night).

Tim took a deep breath before dropping the bomb on her. “I am Red Robin, one of the vigilantes of Gotham.”

At his declaration, her jaw dropped. Again. “You— I— What?”

“I’m Red Robin,” he repeated and pulled out the domino mask he had taken with him and slipped into his pocket, putting it on his face. Thank heavens for Marinette and her need to give him big pockets whenever he commissioned her (and there was any reason to put pockets to said commissioned clothing) because of that one offhand comment complaining about too small pockets some of his clothes had. He scratched his chin awkwardly before realising what he was doing and pulled his hand down, pressing his nails to his skin to keep himself from bringing it up again. “I was also thinking, you’d make a good vigilante if that’s what you wanted to do. Obviously, I would need to train you first to make sure you’d be ready for Gotham’s streets, but I thought it could help you not to worry about me if you saw me in action and actually had the chance to help me if necessary?”

That… wasn’t supposed to come out as a question. Why did it come out as one?

But Marinette’s silence was worrying him. It would be understandable not to get an answer now, but he knew her well enough by now to know that she would be mindlessly rambling at this point if it were merely shock she was experiencing.

“You… You aren’t a villain or planning on becoming one, right? Because even if you were my soulmate, that would mean I’d have to take you down.” Almost certain he could feel Dick’s pointed (and amused, definitely amused) look on his back, he added, “I’m not about to go down the Batman-Catwoman route with this.”

That startled Marinette out of her shock and as she stared him dead in the eye, she blurted out, “Spots on!”

Tim could have almost sworn he heard an exasperated and quiet “Marinette, why couldn't you just tell him like we agreed?” as bright pink light enveloped her and soon revealed that in her place there stood a young woman in a red suit with black spots.

And a spotted mask.

Which made it a ladybug suit.

Or the Ladybug suit.

On his soulmate that came from Paris.

Paris’ Ladybug…

“Oh my god. You’re Ladybug. My soulmate is Ladybug. This is a thing now, apparently. Aren’t you supposed to be dead? Actually, no, I’ve seen enough people that were resurrected, it wouldn’t even be that surprising. How were you—”

Ladybug’s shoulders lifted to her ears and she smiled sheepishly. “Hi? I’m not a villain as you can see?”

It was Tim’s turn to simply stare at Marinette. He— he was not expecting this turn of events. He sighed and waved his hand a little in a “come here” gesture, knowing they were there and that they’d seen her transform anyway. That would mean there was no secret identity problem anymore as her identity wasn’t really a secret anymore, per se. Besides, since she was a hero already, they could very well just introduce themselves to her already.

He had to admit, this was absolutely wonderful as it meant she fit in perfectly — it was as though she had always been the missing piece of the puzzle that was his life and family.

Of course, though he was expecting fate to be a jerk and give him a civilian soulmate, Fate instead decided to cut him some slack and just give him someone that could actually keep up with him and the family he wasn’t going to get rid of anyway, no matter what he tried or wanted (not that he wanted to get rid of them most of the time).

But well. A soulmate was supposed to suit you perfectly, so maybe it wasn’t that surprising.

Ladybug didn’t seem to notice his family approaching them as she kept on rambling and tried to explain herself. “I’m also not dead and never was. Chat Noir isn’t dead either though he has died multiple times during akuma attacks and was resurrected by my Miraculous Cure. Paris just happens to have a tendency to get overdramatic and jump to conclusions, and Chaton and I decided we didn’t want the Ladyblogger on our backs any longer. Neither of us is too fond of her, especially not after the phenomenon that is Lila Rossi,” she said, sighing as she cocked her hip. Ladybug shook her head and turned her eyes to the side. It seemed the name meant a lot, just not in any good way. “Wait. If you’re Red Robin, then—”

“Hiii!”

Aaandd it seemed that Dick had taken that as his cue to make his presence known. How lovely.

Ladybug turned to Dick and then back to Tim, arching an eyebrow. “Since you’re Red Robin, I’m going to go ahead and suppose this is your family. Am I right?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

“They’re not going to try and fight me or drive me out of your city for having powers, right?”

Batgirl cuffed him upside the head as she skipped to them, walked past Tim and then looked Ladybug up and down before nodding approvingly. “Definitely approve, though that suit… Am I seriously supposed to believe you’re our sweet, wonderful, talented fashion designer? Also no, even if B-Man or Dickiebird over there tried, Timmers, Damian and I would fight for you. You’re staying because I like you. We all like you.”

Ladybug flushed lightly at the compliments and the otherwise sweet words, but to her credit, her voice didn’t even waver when she replied (unlike usually), “I just haven’t had the energy and time to change it yet. It’s magic, can’t change it that easily.”

“Oh, okay. Well, try and see if you can recognise all of us!”

Ladybug bit her lip and looked at each and every one of them separately, her calculating eyes feeling like they could see right through all of them. She walked between them and around them, a sly grin appearing on her face.

“Well, Bats here is probably Mr Wayne. He’s the oldest of all and I strongly doubt any of you could be doing what you are if he didn’t know — unless, of course, it was Alfred, and I don’t doubt Alfred’s skills at all, but I’m pretty sure that back when Robin wasn’t there yet, someone needed to look after Batman and I honestly think only Alfred could have that much power on him. So. Mr Wayne.”

Batman took off his cowl, indeed revealing Bruce himself.

As she moved on to Nightwing, she winked and laughed with an “I did do my homework on the flight here. Seriously, did you think I wouldn’t?” Then she turned to look Nightwing in the eye (or, would have looked him in the eye if not for his domino. “I’m going to say Dick. I’ve been watching you all while I’ve been here — in both forms, it seems —, and I doubt any of you could pull some of the moves, or the attitude, Nightwing does, except for Dick. Don’t give me that look, you did jump from the balcony at some point last week, landing safely on the ground after showing off and doing like a million spins and somersaults.”

Tim laughed. “Dick, I told you, someone else besides me was going to recognise you for your somersaults one day.”

“You too?”

“Oh yeah, I worked out Dick’s, Bruce’s and then Jason’s original identities because of Dick’s quadruple-somersault when I was a kid. Nightwing’s identity wasn’t difficult either since, well, it was obviously the previous Robin.”

“Of course you would.”

Then she turned to Oracle in her wheelchair. “Anyway. I know you’re Barbara, and I’m so glad to see you here too, but I’m nor sure about you alias,” she said, her voice clearly apologetic for the fact.

“It’s alright,” Barbara comforted her and gave her a smile, “I wasn’t expecting you to know it. I’m Oracle, it’s nice to meet you. I’ll probably get you on the comms at some point as well because managing things is what I do now. The woman in the chair, if you will,” she continued, making Marinette chuckle. Tim loved the sound.

“Then the big bad Red Helmet over there is Jason — no, seriously, Jay, why in the world are you the Red Hood if you aren’t even wearing one?” she asked, her face twisting as she looked at him. God, Tim loved this girl, she would happily stab any of their fashion sense with a smile on her face, and honestly, the helmet was horrible. Her words earned her snickers from all around the room. She was obviously pleased with herself as Jason took off his mask and gaped at her, offended.

She didn’t even pay him attention too much, continuing on with her list. “The scowling Robin over there is definitely Damian, only he could pull off those expression with a hint of Bat in them, and the current Batgirl is obviously Stephanie. Duke is the Signal — that was your name, right? Oh, and Cass, you’re Black Bat, aren’t you?” At Cass’ nod and her revealing her face, Marinette let out a sigh of relief. “You’re one of the only ones here with an acceptable suit.”

Ladybug transformed back into Marinette, a small creature appearing from her… earrings? before hiding inside her jacket. Tim decided to ignore it, maybe it was nothing. Marinette turned around, spinning on her heel to face Bruce. “Like, I know you need protection because there’s no magic to do so, but you could have protection with suits that looked less ridiculous and atrocious than this,” she said, motioning at their clothing. “That actually goes to most of you. I especially hope there’s a really good reason and a story behind Robin’s colours, because otherwise I will not possibly be able to understand why anyone would go around as a vigilante in colours this bright.”

“There is a reason behind the color choices,” Dick said disturbingly quietly from where he was standing. “They were my family’s colors.”

Marinette winced lightly — she too knew what had happened to them on that fateful night. “Alright. That’s a good reason, even if they’re still horrible colour choices. That would make you the first Robin, right?” Dick nodded. “It’s understandable for you to want to use your family’s colours.” Her solemn tone indicated she accepted Dick’s reason for it completely, telling them all she felt bad for saying they were horrible but knew she wouldn’t back off — and they wouldn’t blame her for that either —, and they all knew she was going to leave arguing and pressing for explanations away completely. Her limitless capability of empathy was admirable.

Then she turned back to Tim. “Is that offer about training still on the table? I’d love to take it if so. I could probably win any of you as Ladybug because magic and a goddess in my pocket, also known as Tikki— Oh, actually! Tikki, come on out, come say hi to Tim!”

A small red, ladybug-like creature flew from under her jacket to Tim, smiling brightly. He immediately recognised it as the fairy he’s seen earlier. “Hi! I’m Tikki, the goddess — or as we like to call ourselves, the kwami — of creation. It’s lovely to finally meet my holder’s soulmate!”

“It’s, uh, nice to meet you as well, I guess? I take it you’re the one that helps Marinette transform,” Tim said, a little confused by the flying, speaking creature.

“Yup, I’m an ancient being, older than anything and everything else, so while she’s not the only one I’ve helped — the history is full of Ladybugs —, she’s my current holder. Remember that if you hurt her, while Adrien can do a lot of destruction and damage —” there seemed to be a double meaning behind those words but he just couldn’t figure out what it was. “—I will be the one you actually want to look out for!”

Tikki’s words were single handedly the single most terrifying thing Tim had ever heard, and it did not help at all that she was smiling all through it, her voice gentle and kind, her entire demeanour bright even when she was threatening him. He didn’t even want to know what a goddess of creation could do as retaliation.

“If I hurt her, I’d let you do whatever you wanted,” Tim finally heard himself say. Those words were surprisingly true and ran deep, he realised. It… should honestly have been alarming. It was not.

“Good, you understood quickly. This one’s good, let’s keep him.” Tikki patted his head — and such a weird image it must have been, a creature maybe the size of his hand patting his head —, bringing Tim comfort for some reason. He had absolutely no idea how she managed it, being terrifying and so sweet and safe at the same time. He could totally see where Marinette got it from. “Also, some of you have definitely been in close — too close — touch with the Lazarus Pit, this place reeks of it. Marinette, tell me, why haven’t we already taken Plagg with us to the Lazarus Pit and gotten rid of it for good?”

Marinette shrugged, unaware of what was happening in the background behind her — Jason gaping, Bruce in shock, Damian just staring at them like he had seen a ghost, which was a rather disturbing picture because sometimes it seemed the boy could get fazed by nothing. The rest looked just confused. Maybe he should just leave them be and try to focus on Marinette and Tikki right now. “Jeez, Tikki, I have no idea. Maybe, maybe it’s because this has got to be the first time I hear about them and honestly, it should be more disturbing than it is that I, for some reason I don’t want to know, actually know what you’re talking about. Is that a guardian thing?”

Tikki nodded before speaking. “Well, we have to do it at some point. Let’s take the cat with us as well, I’m sure he’d prefer not to be left alone if we’re taking Plagg with us anyway. For now, though, I’m sure we can talk about it later.”

Tim shook his head, trying to concentrate. “Yeah, the offer is still on the table. I’d be happy to train you. You’d also get training from the Bat himself if you wanted — he actually insisted on it before this,” he laughed. “But yeah, I’ll be there anyway. Fun soulmate bonding and all that, right? Fighting, training and sparring until we can no longer stand on our own two feet, that’s all anyone could ever want,” he mused, odd warmth filling his chest as Marinette chuckled at his comment.

“Yes, you get it. Finally someone gets it — looking at you, Chat. Having said that, I do have to tell you it’s a little awkward and a huge coincidence you happened to ask me if I wanted to become a vigilante, as I was kind of going to ask you the same.”

“Huh?”

“You just beat me to revealing your identity and asking. I was wondering if you’d like to try using a miraculous, you know? It’s so much fun unless you’re trying to save an entire city that’s flooding and your partner is not doing what he’s supposed to and you have maybe five minutes left after you use your special ability but other than that, it’s great. I know you sometimes get even magical threats here, and I’m sure you’d rather be able to deal with them yourself instead of having to get the magic users not from here involved every single time since it’s your city. Also, since I’m not going to quit being Ladybug, and I will be out there doing my thing, I’d like to have my soulmate in the team sometimes as well, by my side. Obviously, you can refuse, but like, I could see you being a good snake. Sass would like you.”

Tikki nodded, clearly agreeing with Marinette. He knew better than to ask if they realised what sass meant, or to tell them that he was already familiar with sass, since it was probable this Sass was one of the Kwamies. Kwamiis. Kwamii? He had no idea.

Then she turned around to face the others whose attention — all of it — went immediately to her when she focused hers at them. “It could also be fun to see how any of you work with a miraculous once I get to know you better and know which kwamii would fit to each of you — I do have quite many of them travelling with me, after all,” she said, and the smile playing on her lips was easy to hear from her words. Come the next words (and the jab at most of them), Tim also knew for sure there was a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes. “That, and the kwamii come up with alright costumes most of the time even if you have no idea how to design a good one yourself. The suits are much safer than yours, too, because again, magic . And god-given powers, quite literally.”

The little fairy — kwami, wasn’t it? ... she. Something. — settled herself on Marinette’s head while Marinette took out a small box from her purse, opening it. A bright light with a yellowish or orange hue appeared in front of her as another one of the kwamii took form. Marinette put on a necklace that looked like a fox’s tail, which honestly looked logical as it resembled the kwami as well — if they had something to do with each other, that is.

“Heya Marinette! What is it today? Ooohhh, there are more people to mess with today! The cat isn’t here, I see… Wait, is this the soulmate thing you and Chat discussed? Is one of them your soulmate? Do I actually get to meet him before any of the others do?” The fox looking kwami seemed excited and it was a little bothersome to realise how much the kwami reminded him of Bart. They would probably get along, if they ever got the chance to meet. Probably not.

“Well, Tikki met him already, but yes, you’ll get to gloat about this to Plagg, Wayzz, Mullo, Longg and the others. Except for Duusu, that’s forbidden. She’s not in a good enough mental state for that yet. But anyway, Trixx, Tim is my soulmate, the one that’s probably standing right behind me right now unless he actually somehow managed to stay still even in the presence of something new he doesn’t understand just yet,” she said and pulled out two cookies, handing one to each kwamii present. Tim flushed as he realised she knew exactly where he was and why he was there.

Marinette didn’t pay any attention to any of them anymore, only the kwami in front of her.

“Besides, you complained about not having gotten to patrol in a long while last night and as it seems they don’t hate the idea of a miraculous user here, yet anyway — not that it would stop me, honestly, you guys need to get out and be used sometimes and as the guardian, it’s kind of my responsibility —, they might even let me patrol with them and thus give you a chance to go around. Chaton and Plagg won’t be there, though, and I’m not going to tell him about them, so keep your mouth shut. I know you love knowing things others don’t, but you don’t get to tell them because then you won’t be able to keep the knowledge of more heroes to yourself, and I’d honestly rather have Chat and Plagg only know I’ve told my soulmate now so he’s free to tell his. Also, they—”, she pointed at his family, “—Get to keep their secrets, so there’s that too.”

It felt a little too familiar to hear Marinette call someone Chaton, and it irritated Tim to no ends to know that he knew the one Marinette had called Chaton earlier by name, but yet could still only connect it to Chat Noir and Chat Noir only.

Trixx flew around Tim’s head a few times until deciding on landing on top of it. The kwami started to eat the cookie, still there on top of his head, damnit, leaving cookie crumbles in his hair. “Hello there, Marinette’s soulmate! You seem rather interesting. Are you going to be trying to use one of us? It’s going to be so much fun seeing what kind of a hero you could become with our help!”

But, just as Tim was about to answer, an alarm went off in the cave. They all knew it was a villain attack, and soon all of them got notifications of said attack to their phones, computers, tablets, clocks, anything they had promised to carry around everywhere for this specific thing. Tim groaned and ran a hand down his face.

Not now, we don’t have time for this.

Even so, Tim ran off to put on his suit. There was a big chance Marinette would be coming along since she was, apparently, already used to villains (even if quite different from theirs), and he wanted to be there to see it.

At least Trixx let him leave without following.

⬷۵⤐

Marinette watched in wonder as everyone got a move on the second the alarm went off. It was so different from Paris. She hoped the civilians had more basic common sense than Parisians did, too, and would try to escape the danger zone instead of trying to get into it.

Barbara went to get a small piece of technology before wheeling to her. She took Marinette’s hand and pressed it on her palm. “Here. This is a comm. I want you to wear it when you’re out in the field at all times so you’ll be able to contact everyone, me included, at any time you need. They can also contact you if they’re in need of help or something. That, and I’ll be able to locate you at any point I want or need to, so yes, you have to use it,” she told her, but Marinette gave it back. Under Barbara’s rather scary and very unimpressed glare, she decided to give in. After all, she was — even bound to a wheelchair — one of the scariest of them. She was also one of Marinette’s favourites in the family and would probably admit this to any of them at any given time, so she reasoned that played a part in her decision as well.

“Fine, I’ll take it, but I need to transform first or it will disappear, though I’m pretty sure I could actually connect my own, safer communicator to yours,” she said before stepping back. “You might want to close your eyes, the light can be blinding. Tikki, spots on!”

Once the bright light went away, she got ready to unify Trixx and Tikki together. It would take her a lot of energy, but the stealth abilities Trixx came with were useful, as were the illusions, especially in a city such as Gotham, and Tikki, well, Marinette knew how to work with her the best, and the Miraculous Cure Tikki provided was the best thing ever since it could repair anything and everything if she was involved in it with the miraculous (and better yet, no one would need to pay for said repairs.) “Tikki, Trixx, unify!”

“Alright, I’m done now. I can take the comm now if you so insist,” she said, opening her palm and waiting for Barbara to hand it to her again. “You can call me Lady Vixen for now until I come up with a better name, Oracle.”

Oracle smiled at her and dropped the comm on Lady Vixen’s palm. She put it on, adjusting it until it no longer felt uncomfortable in her ear. Red Robin had just finished suiting up by then as well, and with a grin on his face, he stepped to her side. He brushed over her wrist with his fingers and she did the same to him, because even with their suits covering up the skin of their wrists, it made them more comfortable, more at ease, more focused. Happier. They turned to look at the rest of the family, waiting for the go-ahead since she still needed one from at least Batman.

After Batman nodded to her and smiled (which honestly was not a smile and looked more like a grimace, like seriously, Mr Wayne needed some help with how to smile), Nightwing gave her a bright smile (like, an actual smile, unlike Batman’s) and said, “Welcome to the team!”

She didn't reply, she knew she didn’t need to, and decided that swinging off with her soulmate was going to be enough.

Yeah, she was happy to be a part of the team, a part of the family.

Especially if her soulmate was going to be there for her and stay at her side through all of it.

____

@the-navistar-carol @kris-pines04 @thethirdwheelfriend @daminett4life

#Timari #timinette #tim x marinette #maribat #tim drake #marinette dupain cheng #Bartadrien #ml x dc #dc #ML #miraculous ladybug #soulmates #fanfic #fanfiction #ethel's writing

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