#i have a whole folder of this hell awaiting release

[newtparadise]

The Maze Runner + Onion [3/?]

[duuhrayliegh]

Hello, darling! I was wondering if you could right some Bucky x reader, where the reader worked along Sharon during Civil War and she meets Bucky. Then she runs always with Sharon and meets Bucky again in Madripoor and continue their story. I hope that makes sense. Thank yooouuuu✨✨✨

hey babes!! yes i absolutely can! i kind of gave more background than i meant to making it way longer, but i hope you enjoy it anyway! i do want to continue this story and most definitely will be so be on the lookout for the other parts of it lovie <3. i hope you still enjoy it even though it isn’t quite what you asked for yet :)

A Friend of Yours

FATWS SPOILERS

warnings: not much, canon lvl violence, some suggestive stuff closer towards to end, language, i think that’s it

word count: 6140 i went a bit overboard, it’s fine i’m totally fine

a/n: i got this request and then didn’t stop writing all day. i didn’t get anything else done all day. i got home at like seven-ish? and i’ve been sitting on the floor of my bedroom just writing this fic (for context it is now 12:47 pm where i’m at)

check out A Friend of Yours - pt. 2 and A Friend of Yours - pt. 3

p.s.: this is the first fic that i’m writing with an actual ‘x reader’ i’m so proud

xoxo ray

ray’s m.list

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

You grew up with Sharon, the two of you were best friends from birth it seemed. Honestly, Peggy raised you more than your own parents did. When Aunt Peggy got Sharon her first thigh holster, she got you one too. You enlisted together, moved up the ranks together, everything. So, it was of no shock to anyone that after the fall of SHIELD, you both moved together into the CIA’s Joint Terrorism Task Force.

You were inside the hotel with Sharon, Steve and Sam when the bombing on the UN took place. The look of unbridled fear that fell over Steve’s face as they announced Barnes as the primary suspect was heart wrenching. You weren’t able to watch it for long because your phone was already ringing off the hook.

“Look, you need to get me more information, and now.” You gritted into your phone speaker before quickly hanging up the phone and turning to a crestfallen Steve who was still watching the news casting. Sharon ended her phone call and turned to you.

“We have to go to work.” A few short hours on a jet later, you and Sharon were coordinating the operation. Close by, Steve and Sam were awaiting new information. Steve had this insane plan to find Barnes before the whole rest of the world did. Like that’s going to happen, it took the world 70 years to find Barnes. Of course, Steve and Sam are going to find him in about half that time.

You followed the blonde woman into a busy coffee shop and up to the counter. She slid a manila folder over to a well disguised Captain America. “Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everyone thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of it’s just noise, except this.” Sharon was talking quietly, trying to not draw attention to the fact that she was committing a serious offense.

“We have to give the briefing, like now Shar, so we have to go.” The two of you pushed off the counter and you turned quickly to say one last thing. “And you better hurry. They’ve given the order to shoot on site.”

You left the shop quickly and made your way back to the white tent, passing the redheaded spy who was watching you like a hawk. A look of understanding crossed her features as you kept a calm facade. She fucking knows, how the hell could she read you that easily?

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

The next time you saw any of them, they were exiting the back of an armored prison van. It was no surprise that his eyes flitted over to his best friend from childhood. You glanced over at Barnes, who was strapped in all different ways, and your heart hurt for him. You tried not to pity him, you know you would’ve gotten a slap on the wrist from Aunt Peggy about it.

Bucky must’ve felt you looking at him because his steel blue eyes locked with your pair. This was the first time that you’ve ever actually seen the man in person. It was startling, in a good way. You grew up going to the Smithsonian and hearing Aunt Peggy’s stories about the great James Buchanan Barnes. You never thought that you’d get the chance to meet the man you did a history report on your freshman year of high school.

“Y/N?” Sharon’s voice cut through your thoughts, recalling you to reality and out of your past. “We have to go. We’ve been assigned to monitor Steve and Sam while they’re here.” Sharon was clearly not a fan of this, which made you laugh loudly.

“Oh, score! We get to babysit Captain America and the Falcon!” You spoke in an unnecessarily upbeat voice and then clapped your hands together. “Our dream job! Let’s go, Shar!” She stared at you for a millisecond before slapping a hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s go, you fucking dork.” You followed her through the office building into the control room where you observed Tony talking to Steve. Apparently, the conversation was not going well because both their faces held angry glares. Eventually, Tony left the room, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts and that can never be good.

“How you doing, Cap?” You asked as you less-than-gracefully plopped yourself into the chair across from him. He looked over at me and released a heavy sigh.

“Honestly, Y/N, not that great at the moment.” He looked at you with his iconic mom Steve stare. Wow, so that’s what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that. Sam walked in and sat next to you. You drowned out their conversation as your gaze focused on screens outside of the glass office.

The video feed of Barnes in his metal cage was displayed on a TV screen. How is this considered humane? Obviously you knew that the CIA had pushed boundaries in the past, but this was just insane. “Are those restraints really necessary?” Sam seemed to be just voicing his thoughts, not expecting a response back.

“Well, he is considered an international terrorist, so yeah, they’re kind of necessary.” You said quickly and then muttered under your breath, “No matter who thinks that it’s excessive.” Steve’s gaze met yours and he was about to speak when Sharon walked in and dropped a paper in front of Sam.

“The receipt for your gear.” A scoff sounded from Sam as he glared at Sharon.

“‘Bird costume’? Come on.” Always quick to defend your best friend.

“Hey, we didn’t write it up.” It came off snappier than you had meant it. Sharon shot you a look, signaling you to back off. You raised a brow at her as she leaned over the table to the intercom buttons.

The audio from Barnes’ evaluation echoed through the glass room. Everyone around you was unsuspecting the four of you listened in. The psychologist was talking to Barnes, who seemed incredibly closed off. Who could blame the guy though?

“I’m not here to judge you. I just want to ask a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?” The psychologist paused for a second, looking down and off to the side. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.” The caged man spoke for the first time.

“My name is Bucky.” His voice was rough from not being used. A look crossed Steve’s face and he turned to Sharon.

“Why would the Task Force release that photo to begin with?” Sharon’s body turned to face the man speaking to her. Her brows furrowed while she answered.

“Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?” Your head tilted, trying to follow Steve’s train of thought.

“Right. Good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.” Oh shit.

“You’re saying someone framed him?” You wanted to believe it with every fiber in your being.

“Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing.” Sam reminded in a calm tone.

“Yeah, you didn’t bomb the UN though. That turns quite a few heads. Especially if prominent people like King T’Chaka end up dead because of it.” You made a good point, but there were still pieces missing.

“That doesn’t guarantee that they would find him. It guaranteed that we would.” Sharon and Steve began examining the room around them. Your attention returned to the audio emitting from the intercom.

“You fear that,“ the doctor paused, “if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry.” He glanced down again and moved his hand to swipe something away.

“Guys?” You pointed to the screen as the doctor held up his pointer finger.

“We only have to talk about one.” All of the sudden, the screens went dark and the lights flickered off. Secretary Ross was yelling at technicians to get his video back. Tony was speaking to his AI, Friday, about locating the source of the outage. Steve and Sam tensed at the thought of what could be going on with Barnes.

“Sub-level five, east wing.” was all Sharon said as the pair ran off. You looked at her and threw your hands in the air.

“What the hell do we do now, Shar?” She glared at you as she started reasoning with you.

“They’re stronger than we are. If they can contain whatever the hell is happening down there then great. In the event that they can’t, we’ll be up here with Natasha and Tony to deal with it.” You nodded quickly as you both ran out of the room.

You quickly followed Natasha, Tony and Sharon to the main level of the building. Clearly Steve and Sam were unsuccessful in containing the situation because Barnes could be seen through the glass, fighting his way to his destination.

Tony stunned Barnes with a previously concealed Iron Man glove. Barnes started towards Tony and quickly attacked. After Barnes bested Tony, it wasn’t long before Natasha rushed the man alongside Sharon. It wasn’t hard for Barnes to throw Sharon across the room. Natasha took the opportunity to launch herself onto his shoulders, which caused Barnes to slam her into a table with his metal hand wrapped around her neck.

She mumbled something to him as you kicked his ribs, releasing his chokehold on her. He stumbled backwards, his hard gaze landed on yours as he approached. Your eyes locked on his as the two of you traded blows.

They weren’t the same eyes as before. Those eyes were soft and remorseful, these were hard and unattached. There was no emotion behind the pair staring at you. The fraction of a second that you were analyzing his eyes in your head was enough for him to catch you off guard. His metal fist landed in your rib cage. The opposite hand jabbed at your face, busting your lip and sending you flying backwards.

You hit your head on the concrete below, making your eyes roll back. The wind left your lungs and you gasped to get it back as Barnes and T’Challa fought in the background. It was a few minutes later that a concerned Sharon made her way over to you.

“Are you okay?” You looked her over as she did you, checking for any severe injuries. You offered a small nod, not wanting to shake your head too much in fear of a concussion. “Let’s go check in with Ross.”

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

“And how the hell did Rogers and Wilson even know where to find Barnes?” Ross’ voice boomed through the office. No one said anything, not wanting to incur the wrath of Secretary Ross. “I’ve already allowed Stark 36 hours to find them and bring them back here.” Ross turned to you and Sharon standing in the corner of the room. “If they contact any of you, report it immediately.” Rounds of ‘yes, sirs’ bounced around the room, then chaos ensued as everyone got back to trying to clean up this mess.

“Carter. Y/L/N. Elevator now.” He raised two fingers to point toward the elevators before walking into one. It was just the three of you in the enclosed space. He clicked the button for the ground floor. “I know you have some kind of connection to Rogers but do not let that cloud your judgement. The both of you are CIA agents first.”

“We understand, Secretary.” The elevator doors opened again and you went to step out when Ross stopped you again.

“I mean it, girls. This is your job on the line here.” You and Sharon shared a look before continuing walking. Did he just call us girls?

“Do you think that was supposed to be intimidating?” You laughed under your breath as you went out to the parking lot. Sharon sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

“Probably.” She looked at you over the top of her car. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“Where do we start?”

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

Getting that fucking shield and bird suit wasn’t easy. They had moved it from the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre to the US Embassy to await transport back to the States. It made it easier but still damn near impossible to get. Thankfully, you and Sharon are good liars. Skills of a misspent youth.

The two of you walked in the front door and displayed your badges. “We’re here to pick up Captain America and the Falcon’s effects.” The man behind the counter didn’t even question it. Man, they need better people at the Embassy.

“You’ll have to sign some paperwork saying you picked it up.” There it is. You both flicked a brow and Sharon held her hand out for the clipboard. Small scratches from the pen in her hand were echoing throughout the empty building.

She handed the clipboard back to the man behind the counter. “Okie dokie, just pull your car around to the side of the building and we’ll get you loaded up.” He shot them a small smile and turned around to file the papers.

“That was easy enough.” You whispered to Sharon as you left, not wanting your voice to carry. You walked to your car that was parked in front of the iron wrought gate. Pulling your car around to the side of the building, you popped the trunk. The gear clad Embassy soldier carelessly tossed Sam’s suit inside before gently placing the shield on top of it.

“Hey, if there’s a scratch on that suit, it’s coming out of your paycheck buddy.” You held your pointer finger up to the man’s unimpressed face.

“Y/N, let’s go. We’ve got to get these to the jet or Ross will have our heads. Remember it’s our job on the line here.” What Sharon said made you laugh big while hauling yourself back into the driver’s seat of the car. As you pulled out into the street, Sharon was typing away on her phone and pushing it to her ear.

“This is a secure line but I don’t know for how long, so don’t talk just listen.” She took a deep breath and then continued. “We want to help. Meet us under the bridge on Route 6. We’ll be there in two hours.” She ended the call quickly and threw the phone outside the car. Glancing over at you, she nodded and sighed again.

“We’ve gotten this far.” You had one question burning in your throat that you were afraid to ask.

“Where do we go after they’ve gone?” She looked at you and she was biting her lip, something she only did when she was incredibly stressed.

“I don’t know yet. Do you have any ideas?” You smiled and thought of the one place that you wouldn’t be followed.

“Yeah, I’ve got one, but it’s rough.”

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

The drive to the underpass wasn’t a hard one. You had beat the boys there so you and Sharon were sitting in the car. You had the radio playing softly in the background.

“Who the hell do you know in Madripoor?” You laughed and shrugged.

“I’m supposed to tell you all my secrets for free?” You shook your head and shifted in your seat to face her fully. “I was tasked with tracking some artwork down there. One of my assignments when we went through initiation for the Agency.” You picked at the holes in your jeans. “I thought it was just all fake stuff, but I researched it more and more. Turns out, the underground artwork dealing is really lucrative over there.”

Sharon stared at you in amazement. “What did you do, Y/N?” You smirked.

“I haven’t done anything.” You held her gaze, “Yet.” She released a small laugh and her mouth hung open a bit. “I may have a warehouse out there.” You squinted one of your eyes, and leaned forward. “And the apartment above it.” She was going to say something when an old ass blue Beetle pulled up behind you.

“Now how the fuck did they all fit in that tiny ass car?” You both laughed as you stepped out of the car with big smiles on your faces.

“Not sure you understand the concept of a getaway car.” Steve walked up to Sharon and they began talking as she popped the trunk, revealing their gear. Your attention was on the men in the car behind them. Barnes was stuck in the back away from cameras and Sam was lounging in the passenger seat. Your eyes met Barnes’ again, they were back to the remorseful pair you saw the first time.

“You know he kind of tried to kill us.” You waved your hand in gesture to the man in the car.

“Sorry, I’ll put it on the list too.” He glanced back down at Sharon, who had migrated closer to him. “They’re going to come looking for you.”

She nodded, “I know.” Then the most awkward kiss in all of kissing history took place. Your brows shot up then furrowed quickly, a small wince overtaking your face. They pulled apart and traded more words. Sharon began walking back to the passenger side of the car.

Steve turned around and you looked back at the two men in the car. Both of them were wearing proud, smug grins. Steve threw his head back as if he was berating them.

“About damn time, Cap! She’s been pining over you for God knows how long now.” The windows were down in the Beetle so the other two heard you shouting at their friend.

“Y/N!” Sharon was a bit embarrassed.

“What? It’s the truth, Shar!” The two of you began bickering like an old married couple as you started the car again. Steve got all he needed from the trunk and shut it quickly, slapping it twice. You began driving off with Sharon giving you directions to an airport on the opposite side of the country.

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

That was the last time you saw Steve. Last time you saw anyone for a while. You had been dusted in the Blip. Sharon had followed you to your apartment in Madripoor. The two of you were able to figure the city out pretty quickly. Learning the ins and outs of the island, where to go, who to sell to. One afternoon, you and Sharon had been surveying a Van Gogh piece for your gallery when you flew away. In the middle of a fucking deal, what perfect timing.

Five years later, you were reunited with an even more successful Sharon. “I kept your room the way you left it.” She said as she led you through your shared home. “I figured that you’d be back and you’d be pissed off if I fucked with anything.”

You smiled at the woman gratefully and hugged her. Neither of you let go for a while. When you did, she started filling you in on everything. She had continued to split all her profits and had been depositing the money into your account. “Even if you didn’t come back, I could’ve used it if I needed to bug out. Win-win.” She explained with a smile.

The two of you had about six months of getting back into the groove of things. It was quickly cut off by a ping of your phones one day. A look of confusion and anger crossed her face, “Are you fucking kidding me?” She locked eyes with you and told you to get your gear.

“Where are we going?” She threw her phone at you and you looked at the screen. As soon as you read the notification at the top of it you understood. Repeating your question from before, you tied the knots on your Converse. You followed Sharon to the Low Town side of the island.

“Now what the fuck are they doing here, do you think?” The two of you camped outside of the Brass Monkey nightclub, ready for whatever came your way. Deciding that you were too visible to everyone else, you moved to the building across from the club. Something is bound to go wrong and the first place they're going to get ran to is this dead end alley.

Sure enough, not even ten minutes later, Sam, Barnes, and Zemo got cornered in the alleyway. Sharon had decided to stay on the ground floor next to the door. You shot two of the assassins following the group of three and Sharon took out the final one.

You made your way back down to Sharon, who was still holding her gun up. “You cost me everything.” She focused her gun on Zemo.

“Sharon, wait. Someone recreated the super soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” Sam remarked calmly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Explains why you guys are here and Selby’s dead.” Your brows shot up at that, must of been new information that she got while you were upstairs.

“Why are you here, Sharon?” Sam questioned.

“She was one of the ones who stole Steve’s shield, remember?” You stepped forward, raising your gun to gesture to the men in front of you. “And the wings, so your ass,” you waved at Sam, “could save his ass,” at Barnes, “from his ass.” You lowered your gun and stepped in front of Zemo, staring the man down. Your fist balled and you launched it at Zemo, landing a solid hit to his cheekbone.

Barnes grabbed your hand, twisting your body to slot against his with your arm bent behind your back. He leaned close to your ear, breath making shivers trickle down your spine. “I only let you do that because I’ve wanted to for a while now, so don’t get any more ideas.” Your breath hitched because of the proximity of the man behind you.

“Alright, give me my Y/N back.” Sharon said, lowering her gun to holster it. Bucky held onto you for a few more seconds than necessary and then pushed you towards Sharon as he released you. You scoffed, then shoved your gun into the waistband of your jeans. Sam and Sharon had already started their own conversation by the time you calmed down enough to face Barnes.

Sharon bobbed her head to you, an unspoken language between the two of you. After bringing them into your home, Sam began admiring the artwork in the first floor gallery. “Looks like breaking the law is treating you two well.”

“Before even graduating into the Agency, I had a place over here. Never had any intention on using it, but here we are.” You started, “Then, after having to flee Berlin, for you,” You shot a look at Bucky, “we figured if we had to hustle, might as well enjoy the good life. Do you know how much we can get for a real Monet?”

“Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monet’s.” Sharon shot him a look, about to defend us when Zemo cut in.

“No. She means real. This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. All the classics.” Sam made a face of disbelief.

“It’s true. You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this.” Bucky gestured to the gallery. Sam pulled his phone out of his suit pocket.

“Okay, guys, I see what you’re doing. You’re more worldly than good old Sam.” He was typing furiously as he spoke. Bucky passed him, soundlessly following you and Sharon to the upstairs apartment.

“Yeah. What’s Google say?” Once the five of you got upstairs, Sharon began walking them into her office, telling them that they needed to change because we were hosting clients. It didn’t take long for the men to switch outfits. It was refreshing to see Barnes in something other than combat gear or a torn Henley. Sharon followed you in the office, making a remark at Sam while he apologised.

“Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right? The way you gave up that shield, deep down, you must know it’s all hypocrisy.” She said as you plopped yourself on one of the plush chairs across from the couch, holding a clear glass full of whiskey.

“He knows. And not so deep down.” Zemo added quietly, since when is Zemo informed? Sharon glazed over his comment, opting for asking about the new Cap while filling a glass for herself.

“Don’t get me started.” Barnes spoke for the first time since being downstairs. You narrowed your eyes at the man.

“Please. You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit.” You swung your glass to Zemo, “Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap’s best friend.” His gaze darted over to you, nose wrinkling at your comment.

“Do you know who I am?” He tried to be intimidating but it was just funny to you. You were taking a drink to moisten your throat to fire back a witty comeback, when Sharon spoke for you.

“Oh trust me, she knows. She did a report on you freshman year of high school.” You started choking on your drink as Sharon smirked from the couch next to Barnes. His brows raised and a smug smile graced his face.

“She did now?” Clearly he was a different man from the last time you saw him. Meeting his eyes for the fourth time ever, you were surprised with what you saw. There was almost a hunger lingering behind his eyes.

“Most definitely. I don’t even know how many times she went to the Smithsonian to see the exhibit about you.” You glared at Sharon, who continued to talk, unbothered by you. She raised her own glass to her lips, speaking into her cup, muffling her words.  “Honestly, think she developed a little crush.” Barnes’ eyes never left your face, his mind racing.

“Wait, so the entire time you were helping me and Steve, you had a crush on Tin Man?” Sam interjected, wanting to be included in the conversation. You rolled your eyes and gave a subtle nod to Sam. The action wasn’t missed by Bucky.

“Which is why I think it must’ve been really hard for you to ask him of all people for help. They comin’ down real hard on you out there?” You asked Barnes with a smirk and a head tilt towards Zemo. “I know he fucked you up real good, triggering the Soldier, Barnes.”

Sam laughed beside him. “Dude, that’s basically what you told Walker.” Barnes threw a glare at Sam, who had clapped a hand on his metal shoulder. The conversation dissipated after your comment, guess you killed the vibe.

Sam turned to a relaxed Sharon, “We need your help.” Her body tensed, neither one of you was ready to throw yourself back into enemy territory. “I can get your name cleared.” He dangled a huge bargaining chip in front of her face. You knew Sharon was eager to get back to the States. She misses her dad. It was unfair of Sam to use that as a way to gain her favor.

“Haggling with someone’s life like that isn’t okay, Sam.” You said quietly, focusing your gaze on the glass in your hand.

“It’s not like that, Y/N.”

“Yes, it is, Sam.” You said firmly. “You can’t just say something like that. I know you’re an Avenger. That’s great shit, but you need to realize that if you can’t deliver on your word, we go to jail or worse. You know that.”

“I don’t trust charity, Sam.” Sharon said from beside Barnes.

“All right, a deal then. You help us out, and I get your names cleared.” Your nostrils flared and you shook your head. Sharon agreed, blinded by the possibility of seeing her family again. You don’t doubt that she thought through all the outcomes, it just wasn’t the route you would’ve taken.

“We sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, blend in, and enjoy the party.” She got up, exiting the office.

“Try to stay outta trouble, boys.” You said placing your glass on Sharon’s desk as you left. “We’ll see what we can find.”

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

You were standing next to Sharon when the three men joined the party. Leaning over to Sharon, you told her you were going to get a drink from the bar. You pushed your way through the crowd, planting yourself on a stool in front of the countertop. Nodding your head at the bartender, they passed you a bottle of club soda.

“Not drinking tonight?” A raspy voice questioned over your shoulder. You turned to face the owner as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Already had my fill. And technically, I’m supposed to be working, Barnes.” Your eyes met with his again. You couldn’t tell if it was the light in the room or if it was just him, but they were a deeper shade of blue than before. He leaned his weight on his elbow that was resting on the bar top next to you. He was so close you could feel his body heat rolling off him in waves.

His eyes roamed your face, stopping on your lips as he spoke. “You know you can call me Bucky, right?” You made a face, bringing your bottle to your mouth. He watched intently as your lips wrapped around the opening.

“We’ve never had a single conversation before today. And the first time you actually met me, you twisted my arm behind my back because I punched the dickwad standing next to you.” You took another sip and his eyes drifted down to your throat. He watched as it bobbed when you swallowed.

“So, yeah. I’m going to call you Barnes.” You leaned closer, “I’ve never been given permission to call you anything else.” You could tell you struck something. Something that he didn’t even possibly know about. His face heated and he had to clear his throat before speaking.

“Um, okay. Well you can call me Bucky or if you want, James.” Your brow quirked and you pulled back to take him in fully.

“How many people have you let call you that since you got your free will back?” Your tone was serious, but your face held a smile.

“None, doll.” His eyes ran over your face again. “I just want to hear how it’ll sound coming from your mouth.” One of his metal fingers came up to rest on your bottom lip as your smile grew.

“James.” You whispered, just for him. What he was giving you was a privilege, one you were going to revel in. One corner of his mouth tugged upwards.

“Again.” He growled as his finger remained on your lip.

“James.”

“Again.”

“James.” The party around the two of you faded away. In your reality, it was just you and the man in front of you. A peaceful place, where nothing could change what was happening right at that moment.

Of course, reality is a bitch. And you never got what you wanted. Your jaw clenched as soon as your phone pinged. James dropped his hand from your face as he read the text with you.

Found Nagel. Meet us outside and if you find Bucky, tell him too.

You scrunched your nose and bit your lip. James’ hand was quick to pull your lip from your front teeth, before resting there for a second as he studied your face. He stepped back quickly, nodding his head for you to follow him.

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

You don’t know how the hell Sharon managed to find him, but she did. You were in a shipping yard for storage cars. “Madripoor could give New York a run for its money.” Sam said as the five of you weaved your way through the containers.

“With a bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor, the less likely you’re ever leaving.” She glanced down at her phone in her hand. Nodding toward a red container, “Alright, he’s in there. Container 4621.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out five earpieces.

“We’ll keep watch while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry. We’re on borrowed time.” You said as you watched everyone situate their pieces. Sharon turned around and began walking down an aisle not far from the container Nagel was in. You stopped James before he could go anywhere.

“Hey, be careful.” His eyes met yours and they were back to the normal steel blue. “Don’t forget who you are, James.” Something flashed behind his eyes, but his face showed no change.

“You too, Y/N. Don’t make me come out here and save your ass.” His eyes flicked down quickly and a smile spread quickly. “I mean, not that I would mind.” You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder, turning and walking down the aisle Sharon did.

“So,” She was leaned against a rusted container with a smug smile. “You and Bucky, huh?” You groaned and stood next to her.

“I don’t know, Shar. Neither one of us should be in a relationship. Especially since we’re both Enemies of the State, well one of us is, the other one was.” You turned your head to look at her. “What do you think about all of this?” She opened her mouth to speak when you both heard something ricochet off a metal wall.

She raised a finger to her mouth and crouched down before pressing that same finger to her earpiece. “Guys, we have company.” She took off down one end of the aisle and you down the opposite, ready to attack from both sides. There were three men walking towards Nagel’s container, you shot a look down to Sharon and she nodded.

She came from the back with a baton, whacking the last guy once in the knees and once in the head, disarming him. When the front man turned to help his comrade, you did the same move to him with your own baton. You both continued trading blows with the men. You had effectively taken out the first man, using his thigh to latch yourself to the third man’s shoulders. Situating yourself to use your body weight to flip him over, definitely knocking him out.

“Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go now, boys!” You yelled to your earpiece as you watched Sharon fight off another opponent.

It wasn’t until the gunfire started that Sharon said something else into the piece. “Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.” You both split off, out of each other’s view, battling your own demons. You were currently dealing with two of those said demons, when a third approached from behind. Locking you in a chokehold as the other two continued punching your ribs.

One of the hunters was suddenly ripped away from you. Punches were landing and groans were echoing through the alleyways. You threw all your body weight forward, throwing your assailant over your shoulder. Two gunshots rang out and then a third one, which landed a bullet hole between your aggressors eyes. Your head whipped around to face James, whose arm dropped back to his side.

He walked towards you, putting a hand on your back leading you to where Sharon and Sam were standing. Zemo pulled up in a blue convertible car, “Supercharged.” was all he said. Sam pointed his finger at the man in the driver’s seat.

“You’re going back to jail.”

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” James sighed heavily, his shoulder sinking with the action.

“He’s right. We need him. And there’s two of us, and at least twenty of them.” James got in the front seat, leaving the door open for Sam.

“Fine. But if you try that shit again--”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Zemo raised his hands in surrender. Sam turned to Sharon.

“Well, that was one hell of a reunion.” You leaned over the open door to talk to James. He looked at you with a sad face.

“Why don’t you come back to the States with us?” He tilted his head. “We could clearly use your help, doll.” You smiled at that and licked your lips before responding.

“You know we can’t. Not yet anyway.” He placed his finger back on your bottom lip, maintaining eye contact. “This isn’t the last you’ll see of me, James. That I can promise you.” He smiled and dropped his hand back to his lap.

Sam climbed into the seat behind James. “You’re not going to move your seat up, are you?” James smirked before replying.

“No.” You watched as they drove off, desperately wanting to see James again already.

You turned back to Sharon and the two of you began walking back towards High Town. “I think you should go for it.” 

[dorki-c]

Utopia Lies (Part 1: Wreckage)

Relationships: Midoriya Izuku X Reader

Characters (in this part): Villain! Reader and Prohero! Midoriya Izuku 

Tw: Car accident

A/n: Hello everybody! I AM BACK WITH A NEW MINI SERIES!! After taking a long break from writing to enjoy my summer holiday, I am here again with a long awaited project that I teased a while back :) 

|Patreon| Ao3 |

(Why did it end this way?)

Knuckles, strained themselves under the tight pressure of the person controlling them, gripping the slick carbon-fibre steering wheel.

Though the pain- both mentally and physical- was easily ignored by the tinted driver’s seat window rolling down to allow fresh air, from the empty fields decorated with wildflowers and the camouflaged clouds, to bellow across sensitive flesh features and comb through tear-soaked lashes paired with sore eyelids that dried up like a desert, with a lifeless emotion sinking into the colour of your two orbs.

Tyres dipped into small forming puddles and shook the excess water off to the overgrown shrubbery that made up the curb of the road.

Holding the clutch pedal down, an achy hand reached out for the gear stick to manoeuvre it into the 5th gear.

When retracting the achy hand back to the wheel as the foot, on the accelerator, pushed down further, the engine reeved itself up and created louder noise within the silent atmosphere.

Though you shouldn’t have done that.

Especially when turning a sharp corner and the four-by-four’s wheels emitted a high-pitched screech.

It was in the moment, even though you were secure in a plush seat, that a gust of air harshly hoisted you upwards- causing your limbs to escape from where they previously laid to become a jumbled mess.

Let’s just say, you were out for the count.

(How could you do this to yourself?)

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

“Deku! You’ve finally arrived!”

The scene was a familiar sight to see, yet highly unanticipated at the same time. With police officers looking around the area to find any more hints of why this could’ve happened, the fire and rescue team on hand were awaiting the ambulance and keeping an eye on the vehicle in case anything else happens.

Yet…

“Hey! Sorry I’m late, getting to this place was a bit hectic.”

Scratching the backside of his neck, the glistening ground was slippery to walk across as rubber soles made their acquittance to the concrete.

“What happened here?” A familiar car laid slanted in the hedgerow with lines splattered across transparent glass. The pro-hero is internally swearing that he recognises this car, but… its like he can’t think of why he recognises it.

With one of the officers detailing him how it was “A car accident” with “no passengers in sight”, there was little that they could investigate besides the number plate and DNA samples from the seats and stirring wheel.

,

.

. Flickering illuminations shone down as two pairs of footsteps echoed across used-to-be clean navy-blue tiles- which are now muddled with dirt and grime washed over and in between the cracks of said tiles- but with heroes and police officers racing or walking down this particular hallway on most days, its dull and quiet for a Saturday evening when crime is usually at its highest.

“One of the officers said you recognised the vehicle, is that right Deku?” The detective announced out of nowhere, catching Izuku off guard and opening a can of worms that both of them didn’t expect to be opened tonight.

“Yep, it’s correct.” The folder that was being held in Izuku’s hand was slightly crinkled at the edge of its cheap paper base.

“That was (y/n)’s—there’s no doubt about it.” The detailing of the stirring wheel, material of the seats, and finally, the paint job that was done on the car—Izuku knew from the bottom of his heart that it was your car.

But what was strange is that there was nobody in the car when the officers caught up to the dead-end of the speed race.

Did somebody steal your car or was it all a scene to throw him off guard?

Everybody knows what your like, even he does, so why is your sudden disappearance a surprise to him when he arrives at the crime scene?

More or less, why does the sudden activity from your rouge motives bring back the last conversation he had with you?

“Where have you been?” Was something you didn’t expect to hear. But the frustration preceded the speaker’s hero-persona into something more personal.

Especially after a languid Sunday night patrol when the tattered body suit clung for dear life against dirt ridden sticky skin and bruises that are going to hurt tenfold the morning after.

Turning yourself to the direction of the sound was Izuku holding a cup of coffee paired with furrowed green eyebrows. If it helps, then imagine the faux glow of the moon glazing his stern, hinged shut jaw clenched together with an intense gaze, that even villains would shiver under, glaring at you when the soft brr of your coffee machine begins to filter out small brown caffeinated granules into a plastic jug.

Motioning to your clothes and replying to his comment by saying “I’ve been at work.” Did not ease the intension between the pair.

Hearing a light tut be released from those thin lips of his, Izuku took a sip from the steaming caffeinated drink before setting it down on a nearby counter.

“I saw your fight today.”

A light hum for the male to continue was released.

“I’m worried about you.”

Just when you were about to place the ceramic cup down, a light pause ensued.

.

.

.

“I don’t know what your getting yourself worked up about—” You announced. “—there’s nothing wrong with me, I haven’t fainted yet.”

Blatantly, you knew there is something wrong with you.

“Then where the hell have you been, (y/n)?”

Grabbing the handle of the plastic pot, now filled with a deep brown liquid, the pro-hero was about to cautiously pour the steaming brew into their ceramic mug.

Taking a whiff of the aroma, the slight twitch of your nose alerted the rest of your battle worn body to enter another fight or flight mode.

“Nobody has been able to contact you for weeks—” A smash of clay had met the wall, where the singing liquid had splattered against the newly damaged wall and the male’s face.

“Shut up.” Rumbling anger bubbled threateningly in the pits of (y/n)’s chest.

“And take what I’m going to say as some advice for once.” Even if Izuku was the top boss of the hero world, you had always held a notorious reputation for making people piss in their pants.

“What—” Flabbergasted at your comment and how rudely you cut him off by saying “leave”, he takes his exit through the front door and never returns.

(Leaving you to wallow in your guilt as a text message from your phone pops up saying: “You made the right choice.”)

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

Looking back into the distance, after the sirens had stopped with police evacuating the scene, there was a million miles of distance between that of the car wreck and your slightly ragged form.

But its all said and done.

The announcement of your status was released only a few days ago and now the whole country is on a hunt for you.

In reality, running away is not as exhilarating as it sounds- more so, its like the slow rise of suffocating humidity within the air.

With a soft rustling of vegetation alerting the run-away rouge, a hint of glossy blue eyes peeked through the shrubbery.

“And here I thought you’d never arrive.”

“Did I have a choice, though?”

(What brave words to say, I would be careful if I was you.)

Taglist:

@quietlegends @dragonsdreamoffire @sweater-weather-seven @midnightmoonkiss @glitterfreezed @tifaswriting​ @re4lm-ai​ @candybabey​

[dindjarindiaries]

Pretty Please

gif via @pedropcl​

summary: You’ve developed feelings for Javier, but you’ve been great at concealing them—until now. You find yourself wanting him now more than ever, and you’re not sure you can take it anymore. (As inspired by Dua Lipa’s “Pretty Please”)

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

warnings: sexual themes, pining, non-descriptive sexual content

rating: R

word count: 4.256k

masterlist

You must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning—or, rather, inside the wrong bed.

The feeling is sudden and it’s sticking within you. Even as you’re rushing through your morning routine as usual, sliding on your tight-fitted jeans and buttoning up your three quarter-sleeve dress shirt, you can’t help thinking about them coming right back off. You’ve even decided on wearing your best matching set, hopeful that the black lace still remains concealed underneath the purple hue of your shirt. Though, you wouldn’t mind a certain pair of eyes noticing.

You blink a few times, shaking your head. No, you chastise yourself. You can’t give in. You can’t do this.

But you know the truth. You can’t resist anymore. You need Javier fucking Peña just as badly as he needs his cigarettes.

You’ve been trying to avoid this for so long. Coming to work in Colombia wasn’t supposed to mean pining after one of your new partners, but almost as soon as you acquainted yourself with Javier, you were a sucker. His charm, his wit, and his goddamn sex appeal were just too much to resist. It only got worse when you actually learned more about him, joining him and Steve on after-work ventures either to a bar or just a restaurant to get away from the stress of work. You’ve discovered that he’s extremely protective, quite caring, and very passionate—and that just makes you want him more. In multiple ways.

Today, a certain way seems to be making itself very known as your mind can barely focus on whatever you’re doing. When you’re brushing your fingers through your hair and adjusting it to your usual style, you imagine his fingers running through it, tugging on it, even panting into it. When you’re applying your light lipstick, you picture the way his lips would look after crashing against yours, taking some of the color onto his own but caring less in the heat of desire. Even when you’re grabbing your keys and getting into your car, you imagine yourself trapped between the seat and him, hands exploring each other with absolutely no destination in mind.

You try to think about anything else, but you can’t. You continually curse to yourself under your breath. If you can’t get rid of these thoughts, then work’s going to be a shitshow, considering you have to stare at Javier’s face the entire day whenever you’re at your desk. With absolutely no interesting information on Escobar, you know you’re bound to another day full of paperwork at your desk with Javier sitting just a few feet away—which means you’re in deep shit if you can’t get your frustrations under control.

Once you get to the office, you park and take a deep breath, looking at yourself in the rearview mirror and flashing a confident smile. That look falters when you notice Javier’s car pulling in from behind you, and your head turns to see him pulling up right next to you. Swallowing hard, you instantly look back to the wheel. Calm down, you tell yourself. It’s fine. You’ve worked here everyday with this man for months now. It won’t be any different today.

But then he gets out of his car flaunting a bright red shirt, and damn, does red look good on him. You find yourself biting the corner of your lip as you practically undress him with your eyes, studying the usual way he leaves a few buttons undone. You’re lucky he never notices as he strolls inside, especially since your eyes fell to his ass quite a few moments ago. With yet another shake of your head, you curse and slam your hands against the wheel, squeezing your eyes shut tightly.

When you manage to at least fool yourself into thinking you’re composed, you finally step out of your car and start to head inside. Your mind goes blank as your eyes watch the tile floor underneath your feet, and you only look up when you know you’re coming upon your cluster of desks. Steve and Javier are both there, and Javier’s already on his first cigarette as you toss your keys onto your desk and pull out your chair.

“You’re later than usual,” Steve observes, looking at you with a raised brow. “Usually Javi’s the one I gotta worry about.”

“Oh, fuck off, Murphy,” Javier jokes, scoffing as he takes a drag of his cigarette. You sit down slowly as you watch his action more closely than usual, seeing the way his lips close around the cigarette and then separate ever so slightly to let the smoke escape.

No, fuck me.

Your eyes widen at your own thoughts, your eyes darting away from Javier quickly as you instead look blankly at the files already awaiting you on your desk. You almost think you’ve somehow managed to get away with your strange behavior until Steve speaks again. “You good over there?” You look up, seeing Steve looking at you through narrowed eyes. “You look like you’ve seen a goddamn ghost or something’.”

You chuckle, hoping it doesn’t sound as shaky as it feels as you open up your first file. “I’m fine,” you assure him. “Let’s just say I had a rough night.”

Steve whistles, and Javier sets his cigarette onto the ashtray as he looks over at you with a single raised brow. You try to ignore the way your entire body practically hums at his attention. “Who was it?” Javier asks, the simple sound of his roughened voice practically making you beg for him right then and there.

Yet, still confused by his question, you tilt your head at him. “What?”

“Who’d you fuck?” Javier’s voice is casual, but with all the thoughts that have been swimming through your mind so far today, you nearly choke upon hearing the words. You manage to grit your teeth before you can get the words I wish it was you out of your mouth.

“Jack Daniels,” you confess, impressed with the way you’ve lied so effortlessly. Steve chuckles, and Javier’s mouth makes an “o” in understanding as he turns back to his work. The action still makes you bite your lip, and you start to bury yourself into your work before your mind can think up more things to drive you absolutely crazy.

After at least an hour spent in silence while the three of you shuffle through paperwork and try to ignore the fact you’re bored out of your minds, Steve breaks it. “I can already feel this damn heatwave,” he mutters, starting to fan himself with an empty folder.

“Heatwave?” you echo, looking up from your paperwork curiously.

“Yeah,” Steve responds. “It’s supposed to be hot as hell tonight. I was trying to get Connie to cancel our date because of it, but she’s a stubborn one. You didn’t hear about it?”

You let out a huff. “No, I must’ve missed it somehow.” You curse to yourself, suddenly feeling the intensified heat as you adjust yourself in your chair.

“I’m surprised,” Javier’s voice suddenly joins in, and you look over to see him giving you an amused expression. You practically melt into your chair upon seeing the way his dark gaze glitters at you. “You’re always on top of things.”

I’d like to be on top of you. Your mind thinks the words without hesitation, and you nearly spit them out before you manage to catch yourself again. “Like I said before, rough night.”

Javier lets out a low chuckle, a sound that practically radiates from your head down to your very toes. “Sounds like it.” He pauses for a moment, flipping open a file and looking at you briefly between his lashes. “Should’ve invited me.”

You nearly gasp upon hearing his words, instead managing to keep it cool as you shrug. “Next time.”

Javier offers you a small smile, returning to his work shortly thereafter. You know that on any other occasion, that whole exchange would’ve been fine—but now, with your mind running in such an intense direction, you feel as if you’re about to explode on the spot. The rising temperature of the building doesn’t help, and soon you’re joining Steve in the attempt to fan yourself with a nearby folder.

Things only worsen as the day continues. The heat’s getting unbearable, and the three of you are now visibly being affected by it. Your sinful gaze, of course, continually glances towards Javier, and you shrink a bit in your seat when you observe the bead of sweat that falls from his temple. It moves slowly against his tanned skin, as if mocking you for being unable to touch his skin in such a manner, and dips over his jaw to his neck. You lick your lips as you watch it travel down the length of his throat, finally pooling into the notch of his jugular and joining the rest of the perspiration on his glowing, exposed chest.

Damn.

You have to drop the pen that’s been in your hand and rest your elbow against the desk, pinching the bridge of your nose as you squeeze your eyes shut. The fact that this is affecting your work is making it dangerous, but you can’t help it. You need him. It’s so overwhelming that it’s practically suffocating you—but you can’t give in. It’ll be like giving oxygen to a raging fire. You have to keep it concealed.

Willing the strength to do just that, you take a deep breath, opening your eyes again and letting your arm fall from the desk. You use your hand to release a few of the buttons on your shirt, needing to let your chest breathe in the midst of this heat. It would’ve been fine had you not felt a burning gaze coming from the same direction you’ve been looking in all day, and when your eyes raise to view him again, you notice him watching you from his peripherals. Thinking he likely hasn’t noticed you’ve caught him, you see his eyes explore whatever he can of your exposed chest, and his Adam’s apple bounces as he swallows hard and looks back to his own files.

You nearly collapse from your chair on the spot. Holy fuck.

Staying concealed is suddenly a lost cause. The temperature feels as if it’s risen by tenfold, and you find yourself brushing away a bead of sweat from your forehead as you try your very best to focus on your work. Things are muffled, but you manage to make some progress for another hour until you notice Javier staring again. This time, though, he’s truly looking at whatever you’re reading, as if he’s studying the words on the page. His gaze then looks up to yours, and it’s almost as if you see a light bulb go off over his head.

“Hey, do you mind if I take that for a second?” Javier asks you, gesturing to the file you have opened.

How about you take me right here, right now, on this desk? You make a valiant effort to swallow the words back. “Yeah, of course,” you answer, handing the file over to him. Javier gives you a nod in thanks, and you simply manage your best smile as you watch him look between the file you’ve given him and the papers on his desk. His eyes widen, and soon he’s standing up to walk over to your desk. He places the papers side-by-side in front of you, one of his hands leaning on your desk as the other rests on the back of your chair. You nearly freeze, squeezing your legs together at his sudden close presence.

“See this?” Javier questions, looking over to see if you’re following where he’s now pointing his finger. You nod—knowing your brain’s in a complete fog and you’re definitely not going to process anything he says next—and you resist the urge to completely breathe in the smell of his fading cologne and smoke. Javier goes on to point out some kind of consistency between the two files, but all you can do is focus on the heat that radiates from him and nod as if you understand. It gets especially difficult when he brings one of his hands to his forehead, wiping away some of the sweat that’s gathered there. You bite your lip, trying harder than ever to focus on the papers.

But you just can’t. I can’t fucking take it anymore.

You’re about to whisper something dangerous into his ear when he suddenly pulls away, taking the files from your desk. “I’ll type something up,” he tells you, returning to his desk as he reaches for his typewriter.

“That’ll be great, Javier,” you say, earning a nod as he focuses in on typing whatever the hell he’d been trying to tell you earlier. You let out a huff, trying to ignore the way your hands are shaking from the brief interaction.

This man’s going to be the end of you.

It’s nearing the end of the work day, and Javier’s still typing away vigorously. You’ve noticed that he’s been sweating a lot more just from taking up a slightly more demanding task, and you’ve tried to stop watching the beads of sweat fall down his face—but it’s not to much avail. At one point, though, he stops typing, leaning his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. His mouth opens just a bit, and you bite the inside of your cheek hard to try to keep your mind from running. Yet, it’s already taken off. You’re suddenly wishing you could be under his desk.

“It’s so fucking hot,” Javier grumbles, wiping his hands over his face and wiping them on his thighs. He looks over at you, gesturing to the longer sleeves on your shirt. “I don’t know how the hell you do it.”

You shrug, trying to get words through your tightened throat. “You get used to it.”

“You’d think she’s the one that’s been living here longer,” Steve jokes, standing up from his desk and collecting his things as he speaks. He looks up to see Javier giving him the finger, causing him to snort. “I’ll see you two tomorrow. Let’s hope I don’t burn to death on this date.”

“I hope you do!” Javier calls after him.

“Fuck you, Peña!” Steve remarks without looking back.

“Gladly!” Javier exclaims, laughing to himself before he returns to his typing.

It’s finally your chance to escape the hell that’s been today’s torture. You stand up and get your belongings together, watching to see if Javier looks your way. He doesn’t, as he’s already focused back in to his work. “I’m headed home,” you inform him. You successfully draw his attention, almost falling to your knees when you catch his gaze looking you up and down momentarily. “Don’t stay here all night, Javi.”

Javier chuckles and gives you a reassuring smile. “I’ll try not to.”

You try to return his look, beginning to turn and walk out. You stall, however, when Javier calls out your name quickly. Your head turns to face him, and you see his brow lifted in concern.

“I just wanted to ask, are you sure you’re okay?” Javier’s dark gaze is sparkling with hope—hope that you’ll tell the truth. You swallow hard. “You just don’t seem like yourself today.”

You want to melt upon receiving his tender care, especially when you hear the sincerity in his tone. Yet, you know you can’t tell him the truth, and so you give him a nod. “I’m alright, Javi. Just succumbing to this goddamn heatwave.”

Javier exhales and widens his eyes for a moment. “Understandable.” He nods once. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You simply choose to give him yet another nod, turning back around and nearly speed-walking to your car. Once inside, you let out a heavy breath, running your hands down your face. You can’t believe you’ve managed to make it through the day, and you can only hope that you get your act together. Still, you can feel yourself wishing you’d gotten what you needed, but you push back the feeling as you head back to your apartment.

Once inside, all you can think about is the heatwave. The air conditioning unit in your apartment does a relatively good job at keeping you cool, but it’s still much hotter than usual, and you find yourself quickly exchanging your work clothes for a simple pair of cloth shorts and a V-neck as you prepare yourself a small dinner. By the time you finish, Javier’s completely left your mind for the first time today, and all you can think about is drowning yourself in the glass of condensing water you have in your hand.

Suddenly, a knock sounds at your door. You put down the glass and furrow your brow, walking over to it and checking the peephole. You’re in disbelief when you see who it is, and you open the door quickly to see a disgruntled Javier standing there.

“I’m sorry to… uh, interrupt.” You watch as his gaze temporarily falls from your eyes to your chest, and you look down to see part of the lace from your bra peaking out from the collar of the shirt. Your cheeks heat up, and when you look back up at Javier, you see that his gaze has returned to yours. He clears his throat. “I just—my air conditioner’s a piece of shit, and it just broke. I was wondering if I could crash here until I cools down later tonight.” He holds up the bottle he has in his hand. “I brought some whiskey.”

You laugh, stepping aside to make room for him. “Of course, Javi.” He walks through the door, and you close and secure it behind him, taking a deep breath as you close your eyes. Keep yourself together, you tell yourself. You can’t think like you did earlier. Yet, as soon as you turn back around, you notice that Javier’s now unbuttoned practically half of his red shirt, exposing a much larger amount of his chest to the cooler air of your apartment.

Well, fuck.

You stroll over to where Javier’s sitting at your kitchen island, grabbing two clean glasses from the cupboard and letting Javier distribute some of the whiskey into them. You start to sip at yours, completely unable to think of anything rational to say. All you want to do is admit that you’d rather taste his lips than the whiskey, but you know you can’t, and so you continue to let the alcohol burn down your throat. You watch as Javier observes this, soon letting a low chuckle rumble from his chest.

“You know, it’s real funny to me,” Javier suddenly says, letting out a sigh as he leans back in his chair. He takes a swig of his whiskey, and you raise an eyebrow in confusion. “I just can’t believe you’re standing here right now, not mentioning anything about today.”

You swallow hard, slowly resting the glass of whiskey onto the counter as your gaze with him never breaks. “What do you mean? The files?”

Javier shakes his head, a smirk stuck on his lips as he also rests his glass onto the countertop. “No, not the goddamn files.” He raises his eyebrow back at you. “The eye-fucking.”

Your eyes nearly double in size at his words. “Javi, what the hell are you talking about?”

Javier sighs as he stands from his chair, slowly making his way over to you. “You really thought I didn’t notice all of that?” He lets out another chuckle, shaking his head as he looks down at you. “You were practically in a daze, hermosa. I’d recognize that look anywhere.” Your gaze falls to the floor, embarrassment pulsing through you as you stand dumbfounded at the counter. You see his feet stop just in front of you. “I thought maybe you’d tell me earlier, but you’re a tough one to crack.”

You look back up but continue to avoid his gaze. “I’m so sorry, Javi, I don’t know what got into me today. I just—.”

You stop when you feel Javier’s fingers touch your chin, forcing you to look back into his eyes. His gaze is even darker than usual, and your stomach twists in pleasant knots when you study his expression further. “What you didn’t realize was that I was doing the same exact thing back to you.” His hand brushes up along your jaw, his fingertips sending shivers through your spine as he tucks your hair behind your ear. He leans forward so that his lips are brushing against your ear. “Were you also imagining those different scenarios? Sneaking away to the car, or just being taken right there on the desk?” Javier pauses to chuckle lightly. “You were driving me crazy.”

Unable to believe it’s actually happening, you let out a struggled breath, watching Javier’s gaze only darken more at the sight of your pure instability at his words and touches. He pulls himself completely away from you, raising his brow at you once again.

“Is that what you want? Do you want me, hermosa?”

You’re so close to just flinging yourself onto him, but you try to retain some sort of self-control, swallowing hard as you finally get the words out. “Please,” you manage, your voice barely a whisper.

“What was that?” Javier teases, stepping even closer to you. You’re eye-level with his glistening chest now, and you’re absolutely certain you’re going to fall apart at the seams.

“Pretty please,” you nearly whimper, unable to hold yourself back any longer.

“Since you asked so kindly,” Javier assures you, and no later does his arm wrap around your waist as he pulls your body flush against his. Within seconds, his mouth’s on yours, and you drown in the taste of whiskey and cigarettes on his breath as you press your tongue against his. You nearly melt at the relieving feeling of his touch, especially as his hands glide over your ass and touch the bare skin of your thighs. He lifts you so that your legs wrap around his waist, allowing you to deepen the kiss as your hands—once unable to leave his face—start trying to unbutton the rest of his shirt. Javier stops the kiss to laugh against your lips, starting to make his way towards your bedroom. “At least wait until we get somewhere, hermosa.”

You let out a curt laugh before reattaching your lips to his, unable to get enough of the feeling. As soon as you’re inside your bedroom and Javier’s eased your back onto the bed, all clothing’s strewn to the floor and you’re sure you’re not helping Javier with the situation of trying to stay cool. Your lips are already swollen when he pulls away to rest his sweating forehead against yours, looking deep in your eyes for a moment.

“Before we go any further,” Javier starts breathlessly, “I need you to know that I haven’t been wanting you like this just because of your body, like you might think.” Javier pauses, as if he’s searching for the right words to say. “I’ve wanted you in this way and many more for a long time now. I—.”

“This is all really sweet, Javi, and I’d love to hear more,” you cut him off. “But please, I’ve been waiting for this for way too fucking long, so please wait to tell me the rest after.”

Javier chuckles at your desperation, giving you a reassuring nod as he reconnects his lips with yours. The next few minutes feel like heaven on earth, even if the temperature represents something more like hell. Your bodies together create a heat that rivals the wave spreading throughout Medellín, and even hotter are the words you share with each other. The confessions, the utterances, the way you say each other’s names—it’s enough to turn this heaven into something much more sinful. Everything that’s been building up for so long is seeking release, and you can feel the opportunity approaching the faster things start to go. With your fingers practically embedded into his slick back and his holding you in place beneath him, Javier urges you to finally follow through with what you’ve been waiting for so relentlessly. His mouth covers yours just in time to muffle your voice, and he’s not too far behind from getting that same relief before he rests beside you. He looks over at you, laughing a bit as his fingers brush over your cheek.

“Was it worth the wait?” Javier questions, and you giggle as you let your face fall into his slick neck.

“Hell yeah,” you admit, feeling his throat vibrate against your lips as he chuckles. You close your eyes as you absorb the euphoric feeling you’re drowning in. “So, can I hear the rest of that speech now?”

Javier runs a hand through your messy hair. “What’s the magic word?”

You smile against his neck. “Pretty please?”

[heechulhamster]

How Are You? - Minseok

KIM MINSEOK x Reader

Office! AU, Fluff, Implied Sex

You were always happy to interact and talk to him. But the way he asks the same three words over and over agitates the hell out of you. And you thought all he needed was a little push to cross the line towards you. 

3996 words

_____

This week’s worth of paperwork laid scattered on your desk before you took the initiative to organize them. Stacking all the memos, business proposals, and reports according to urgency and folder size. You left your desk in its neat state, standing up and grabbing your black leather handbag and putting your moleskine planner inside. It’s quite hard to understand why heels are considered mandatory attire in an office environment. Does it even help you produce better marketing ideas? Or does it increase the sales of the condominium units you try to sell? You don’t think so.

With your painful feet and four inch heels, you walked outside the room on the 21st floor. Taking a quick peek on your wristwatch, it read 8:00 in the evening. You’ve been working overtime the past few days due to the struggle of a new release of a product. Working marketing in a corporate company can be rewarding in terms of salary but sure is a huge pain in the ass when it comes to stress.

You let out a yawn just after you pressed the down button of the elevator. Seeing that it came from the 25th floor, you know that some higher ups must’ve been grinding the extra hours too.

A little chunk of your fatigue evaporated into thin air when the elevator doors opened. It revealed a man of your own age, his soft yet feline-like features masked his own tiredness. He wore his circular eyeglasses, and a pinstriped white dress shirt that was tucked in his slacks. His whole aura just spoke of class, superiority, and poshness. And his mere presence is enough to bring a tint of pink on your cheeks.

“How are you? Overtime?” Minseok asked as you entered the confined steel box ready to enclose the both of you.

You nodded, “The new product release made marketing become busy bees.” You explained accompanied with a tired laugh.

“Yeah, finance ain’t having it easy either.” He also let out a worn out chuckle.

Ah, yes. You belong in the two factions of the company that never seem to understand each other. You belonging in the group of people that try your hardest for a product to sell, as a Product Manager. And Minseok belongs to those who just want the company to sell and sell, and sell - Finance. You remember how you both started almost at the same time, him only being ahead of you 6 months in the company. But here he is now, awaiting the revered promotion of being Chief Financial Officer. Minseok works hard, real hard.

You’ve always had a sense of admiration for him and his commendable work ethic. Remembering how often it is you see each other like this, tired and burn out from all the requirements, paperwork, and demands your bosses give you. But Minseok never fails to show and do his best, partnered with his gummy smile.

It was needless to say that your admiration for Minseok is more than just a simple appreciation. You still have the stirrer you kept from the coffee he bought you one busy night. Not even remembering why he gave you nor how he knew that Caramel Macchiato was your favorite. But you knew you had to keep remembrance of the wonderful memory, and the small plastic stirrer still lied in the drawer of your dresser. Like a letter a teenage girl received during high school

Yet, your interactions were always limited to casual pleasantries. A nod on the hallways, a wave you exchange when you see yourself in the lobby, and his never ending “how are you?” It has always been a how are you.

It was the yearly gala night of the company, where hard working staff and committees were recognized and rewarded. You dressed to the nines, as it was one of the few opportunities for you to show how much you could take care of yourself. Clad in a deep blue satin dress, a color you chose probably due to the knowledge that it was his favorite color and there’s a high chance for you to look matching with him. Extra efforts were took for you to look your best, to probably nudge Minseok a little bit and wake him up. But no, the moment you socialized with their table, it was the same old how are you.

You even took your skepticism to another level when you went and approached Yixing, one of his close friends in marketing.

“You think Minseok knows any other sentence except how are you?” You blurted out during lunch, looking out to the far table where the man in question sat alone.

“Yeah, he’s a bit of a talker, actually. Why?” The Chinese man knotted his forehead in confusion - to which you just shrugged your shoulders. You earned a bit of a chuckle from Yixing and a pair of suggestive, teasing eyes.

“Looks like someone’s interested in my workaholic of a friend.” You just laughed in denial.

“It’s not that. We’ve known each other for two years now. But I don’t remember him saying anything to me except those three words. It’s almost like talking to Siri.” You laughed your last sentence off.

“You mean to tell me you haven’t heard the majestic stories of the college party boy yet?” Yixing’s small eyes widened in confusion, to which you could only shake your head to.

“I swear, it’s only how are you. Or asking how my day has been. And then nothing, crickets, silence, black hole for sound.” You even used your hands to gesture for exaggeration.

“Darling, trust me when I say Minseok never shuts up. Oh shit, I know why.” Yixing cackled a loud laugh. “You’re in for a treat. Just give him a little push.”

You tried to force Yixing to tell more on what he meant, but you only earned a couple of laughs, a pat on your head, and a just go for it. All of which you vaguely understood. What was he trying to get you to go for?

That very same day, you found yourself in the office pantry the same time Minseok is there. He was getting probably his umpteenth cup of coffee for the day, as he’s well known for abusing the caffeine stock in the office. Minseok’s attention was set on his phone until your closing of the door made a sound and made him look at you. You flashed him a smile, the sweetest kind you could show.

“Oh hey, how are you?” There’s it, his answer machine approach to you.

“Nothing much, just craving an apple to fuel the long hours.” You spoke as you made your way to the refrigerator. He didn’t even bother procuring a follow up question after you responded, he just let awkward stillness expand in the small room. So you tried and follow Yixing’s words and push him a little more.

“How do you make your coffee?” Minseok was caught off guard by your sudden query and turned around to you. “It looks like I need a boost but I’m not really the best when it comes to making one.”

Minseok stood up and walked to the empty space beside you, just right in front of the coffee maker. “I can make one for you. I don’t give out my secret coffee recipe, it’s highly coveted and confidential.” He proclaimed with a chuckle.

“Don’t make it too good, then. Looks like I might have a hard time imitating your confidential recipe.” You said with a pout, slightly poking fun at him.

“Well then, you might have to sync up your coffee breaks with mine.” Minseok looked at you with a teasing smile as he pressed on the coffee maker. It could be your mind playing games with you but you saw his right eye wink at you.

It’s safe to say that you’re highly alert and awake the moment you left the pantry. But you’re not sure if that’s thank to the caffeine boost by coffee.

Back to present time, you heard him humming to a certain song you also know in the back of your head. His muted crooning was all that’s audible in the enclosed space of the elevator. You raked through and through your brain just to remember the song. And when you finally did, you didn’t hesitate on singing along.

“I’ll stop the world and melt with you.” You sang, almost in a whisper. “You’ve seen the difference and it’s getting better all the time.”

You looked to your side and caught Minseok’s eyes that were now also on yours. “You know the song?” He said with a smile. You felt lightheaded and giddy by the way his small teeth shows and his cheekbones protrude when he smiles.

“Of course, Mr. Kim. Who in this world doesn’t know the classic that is Melt With You?” You said with a chuckle. “There’s nothing you and I won’t do…” You continued singing, even closing your eyes in the feeling.

“I’ll stop the world and melt with you.” Minseok finally sang along with you, and it was when you just had to flash your eyes open. He was looking intently at you, a small smile painted on his face. You’re sure that you looked like an idiot with your mouth slightly agape and a slight shock plastered in your face.

And in that moment, all that’s left to do was to stop the world. Because you’re certain that all your insides have already melted with the way Minseok’s gaze met yours.

No matter how much you counted sheep jumping over the fence, sleep just wasn’t just in your favor that night. You can’t help but keep on smiling like a high school girl in the way he smiled and sang with you. Overthinking didn’t help, too. You tossed and turned in your bed, thinking about Yixing’s advice. What did you need to push Minseok exactly for? You already thought that maybe he liked you back, that maybe he needed a little encouragement to actually be aggressive and persistent and pursuing you. But all expectations do is lead you to disappointments and heartbreaks, so you shrugged it off.

The company was already at a calm sailing state a week after the new product release. The marketing team can now lie low after the hectic months and gruelling overtimes you’ve all put yourselves through. So now, you’re just chilling in the cafeteria with Yixing, chatting over his burger and your bowl of salad.

“I can’t even understand how much she looked different from his pictures. I thought I was in a blind date!” You laughed at the way he illustrated his recent botched Tinder date. Poor guy just couldn’t get a hold of himself on being single, Yixing’s just in a constant need of someone to date.

Safely separating the olives on a tissue, you used chopsticks to get rid of the tacky fruit from your store bought salad. You just couldn’t stand the taste of black olives mixing with the vinaigrette.

“Are you aware of the olive theory?” Yixing suddenly says, taking your attention out of your salad bowl.

“Lily and Marshall.” You just answered with a smile as you took out the last piece of olive in your food.

“Exactly. And do you know who’s a sucker for olives?” You just looked at Yixing with confusion, before he nodded to somewhere behind you. Looking to that direction, you saw Minseok holding a tray of his own food. “Boy would place olives on anything and everything.”

You struggled to take in how good a black button down can look on Minseok. Today, he skipped his thick oculars for a reason you’re not aware of. And you made sure to memorize the detail of his cat like eyes without his glasses covering it.

“Minseok!” Yixing called over to him and gestured to the seat beside you. “The two of us are kinda lonely here, we wouldn’t mind another company.” A hint of annoyance sparked within you in Yixing’s tone and suggestive smirk, headed to the both of you.

He put down his tray on the table and slowly sat down on the chair beside you, making you sit straight yourself. He just smiled at you with pursed lips, the same way you did. And out of no reason, you just felt the atmosphere constrict around you and it’s suddenly harder to breathe.

“Hey, how are you?” You almost choked out your lettuce when you heard those three words again. Earning a chuckle from the man seated in front of you, and all you could do was lightly kick Yixing’s shin beneath the table.

“Same old, same old.” Was all you could muster to answer.

“Same old olive hater.” Yixing answered for you.

“Who in this world can hate olives?” Minseok suddenly blurts in confusion, a mocking look on his face. Yixing used his right index finger to point at the small pile of black olives lying on a clean tissue paper beside your bowl of salad.

“Can’t stand ‘em.” You answered, shrugging your shoulders.

“You can’t be serious, gimme that.” Minseok just tugged on the tissue and you just let him.

“I don’t think you’re aware that me and Minseok used to be in the dance troupe when we were in college?” Yixing spoke in front of you. You exchanged looks from the both of them. With Yixing smiling proudly, his arms spread over the two chairs beside him. And Minseok just slightly laughing with his head down, embarrassment flashed all over his demeanor.

“I wouldn’t have guessed. You two, dance troupe, really?” You even put hands on your chest to fake being shocked. “I somehow fail to comprehend that.”

“We’re the masters of dancing to Backstreet Boys back then. All the girls could do was scream. Man, I miss college fame. Don’t you, boy?” Yixing nodded off to the man sat adjacent to you.

“I prefered Nsync, obviously. Had a lot of fun being Justin Timberlake with Tearin’ Up My Heart.” Minseok answered with a chuckle.

“I need to see that, or else this is all fake news and you’re all just losers in college.” You dared them.

“Possible, Johnny from Operations actually plans to go out clubbing this weekend. In celebration of the successful launch? Maybe you could come and join us, (Y/N)” Yixing had little too much of excitement in his voice. It’s an obvious reason why he wanted to go out, boy needs to get laid so much.

“I certainly would go.” You answered with a smile.

Friday that week, you saw yourself again on the elevator with the same guy that makes your cheeks turn a shade of a washington apple with his catlike eyes. Minseok looked sleek with a plain white button down, fitting him in the right places just enough to give you a glimpse of how toned his body is beneath all those clothing.

He just opened his mouth to speak when you already spoke. “I’m doing good, great actually.” You answered with a chuckle.

Minseok’s face contorted in amusement to your answer, even without his question. “I already know what you’ll tell me Minseok, the same old how are you. I’m starting to think you’ll have those three words engraved in your tombstone.” You joked.

“Well, I’m not sure on what other things to ask you. So that’s what always comes out.” He defended himself while slightly shaking his head.

“Hmm, how about ask me when I’m free for dinner? I’m sure that’s a good start.” To hell with it, if you’re going to follow Yixing’s words, you better push him so hard that he could fall to a cliff and down to your arms.

You looked beside you and saw Minseok with a smile and a hint of confusion in his eyes. “I mean, just if you want to. If not, you could stick on the same old how are you.” You looked away from him, afraid from the possible rejection to your advances.

“It’s not that.. It’s just..” He chuckled awkwardly as he massaged his forehead with his fingers. “It’s like you took out the words from the tip of my tongue.”

You chuckled at his implication, “How long have you been holding that back?”

“Quite a while now, actually.” Minseok returned honestly.

“And I’ve been waiting for it for quite a while now too.” You confessed.

“But now that the cat’s out of the bag, you going tomorrow?” Minseok asked, pertaining to the night out Johnny basically invited everyone to.

“Absolutely. You and Yixing busting your asses to Shape of My Heart? I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

“Great. Get ready to be blown away. You’ll see why they’re so head over heels with me back in college.” Minseok even grooved a little bit in attempt to show you how much of a dancing king he can be.

“You don’t need to dance for me to see that.” You slightly teased, which made you blush yourself. Sometimes you do speak before you think and just realize how clumsy you can be when the word’s already out of your mouth.

“I’ll pick you up at 6.” Minseok declared the moment the elevator opened on the ground floor. He didn’t even sound as if he’s asking you, it’s more of like he’s just letting you know.

“Thought you’d never ask.” And the both of you parted with a smile.

You prepared a little bit too early for your common practice, as you finished taking a bath at exactly 4 in the afternoon. But you know that this day is going to be a little bit more than just clubbing with officemates so you took extra steps and exerted extra efforts on making yourself look not just presentable, but wonderful.

You spend a good half hour contemplating if you should wear your classic little black dress or a red jumpsuit. But looking in the mirror, you realized that you didn’t need to be as eye catching as the pair of eyes you wanted to captivate would already pick you up at your porch. So you went for the timeless black ensemble that never failed to make you feel confident.

Making sure that your eyeliner and lipstick is on point and at its best, you paired the black dress with your favorite classy gold pieces of a necklace and a simple earring.

At exactly 6pm, on the dot, Minseok showed up on your front door. As dashing as he always looks, with a black shirt and leather jacket - deviating from his usual smart casual look. But all you need to see was your favorite pair of eyes that was enough to make you melt. Before he even opened his mouth to speak, you already opened yours.

“I swear to God, Kim Minseok, if you ask me how I am I’m going to shut this door at your face.” You held an index finger in front of his face.

“I was actually going to tell you how gorgeous you looked, but I guess I should ask first how you are.” He joked in return.

“Oh fuck you.” You responded as you grabbed your bag and closed the door.

“We’ll save that for later, we’re gonna meet them at the club first.” He retorted cheekily.

The first couple of hours at the bar was all fun and energetic. You saw Yixing and Minseok finally dancing their shoes off to a random 90s boy group song, and you had to admit that they’re really swoon worthy on the dance floor. Pretty sure if you attended the same college as them, you’d be one of the girls who screamed their lungs out as they performed.

But you all are not in your early twenties anymore, not the same enthusiastic, hormone driven youth that you are that can stand the club until 4 in the morning. It only took you three rounds of margarita to feel woozy, and you’re certain that most of your friends have already found their prey for the night. The last time you saw Yixing was when he was busting it out on the dancefloor and was approached by a hot brunette. God knows where he is right now, probably busting some other thing at somewhere else. And you’re pretty sure you got your eyes set on your own prey too, or maybe he’s the predator here. One that you’d let devour you, without a doubt.

The two of you were silently swaying in the dance floor, somehow off beat to whatever song off the charts was playing due to the hit of alcohol in your system. Minseok leaned over closer to your ear. “I’m going to have to ask you something.”

“Just not my three dreaded words from you, please.” You answered, putting your hands on his shoulder to get him scoot over closer to you.

“No, it’s actually four.” He sounded too sexy with his voice in a haze. You just nodded in anticipation. “Your place or mine?”

“I like that so much better than those three words. Yours.” And all it took was a couple of minutes for him to pull you out of the confined and loud bar.

Not even noticing the fifteen minute drive it took for the both of you to get to his apartment, all that’s in your mind was how to get him out of his clothes. And you wanted to accomplish that task fast.

The moment you’re inside his pad, you’re already pinned to the door. His lips aggressively meeting yours, as if it was all on his mind all day. But to be fair, it was a feeling you’ve already been contemplating on the past few weeks.

Minseok’s hands were frantic and hurried as it slided on your bare thighs, eventually meeting the hems of your small dress and pulling it upwards. You pulled away from the kiss when you realized that the end of your dress that previously was on the middle of your thighs were now bunched up in your waist. And the lace underwear you’ve made sure to wear was already on display.

“I’m sure you wore this in purpose.” Minseok exclaimed before he dived onto where your neck and shoulders met.

“I’m no risk taker, Minseok. I always make sure that things go smoothly as planned.” You chuckled a little when he hit a ticklish spot on your neck. His hands still wandering its way on your thighs. Your hands fumbled from carressing the back of his neck to his front, putting away his leather jacket and eventually locating the hem of his v neck shirt.

“I don’t think anything would go smoothly tonight, darling.” He answered as he rested his hand beside your head. And you let your eyes immerse and take in the wonder that is in front of you. You just knew it in you that something delectable was hidden in all his decent and modest clothing.

“Then have it your way, sir.” You answered with a wink. An action that made him part from the last restraints he had in his mind. He then gripped your thighs, signalling you to jump and let him carry you to wherever he deems to take you.

“You see what happens when you stop asking me if I’m just okay?” You chuckled in between your kisses.

“I’m glad I found out. But tonight, baby, I’m going to make you feel more than okay.” Minseok last answered before he laid you down on the bed and having his way with you. His wonderful way, you were quick to find out. His class and soft attitude doesn’t exactly translate on how he is on bed, and it was surely something you prefer.

It was already needless for anyone to ask how are you in the morning, because you were absolutely more than fine. And Minseok was the one who made sure of that.

[junionigiri]

Todochako Week 2019 - Day 1 - Mythology

for @todochaco

Rating: G

Notes: This fic (and all the others for Todochako week!) are collaborations with safri_riri from Twitter :) she did the wonderful fanart while I wrote the words. we hope u like this! btw their costume designs are inspired heavily by Hades and Persephone’s design in the LINE webcomic Lore Olympus by Rachel Smythe (highly recommended pls read its so good!!!)

Ochako walks on fields filled with flowers of pink and gold. The sun kisses the bare skin of her shoulders. In the distance, a lazy river flows; pretty nymphs bathing in its cool waters, giggling and cracking jokes and just enjoying life.

The world above the ground is bright and sunny and beautiful; this is the only type of world she’d ever known ever since she was created. She breathes in the spring air, revels in the feel of it filling her lungs.

“Darling.” A goddess walks beside her. Regal; wheat-colored hair, dazzling purple eyes, every bit sparkling and intimidating. “Do not tell me you mean to go back to that wretched place.”

“Beloved mother,” Ochako says, trying to keep the smile on her face from showing. She regains her composure and faces him. “You know that I have to.”

Aoyama’s mouth twitches in disdain. “Awful and unforgivable, that’s what this whole arrangement is! Why must you agree to it? I can’t believe that I have to lose my one and only daughter just because of a bloody pomegranate!”

He twirls in his royal robes of white and gold, with sympathetic and angry red flowers sprouting beside him as he does. His royal subjects bathing in the river are compelled to stare at him in wonder. Ochako merely tries to keep it together as she keeps her eyes on her beloved queen mother.

“Still, promises are promises,” she manages to say quietly. “I must go back underneath the earth. My husband waits for me.”

Her chest twinges a bit saying that.  

“Humph! To have to return my pure daughter to the Dead King causes me such grief!” says Aoyama, turning to face her once more. Her mother always has such a difficult face to read, so Ochako wonders why there’s a knowing smile on his mouth when he looks at her cheeks, one after the other, and speaks to her again. “Tell the king of Hell, that terrible abductor, that I hope his kingdom freezes over!”

“Mother!” Ochako looks at him despairingly, begging for some reprieve. “Please do not judge him unfairly! He isn’t cold and terrible! He is good and just and kind, and--”

That smile on Mother’s face again. For someone who’s supposedly grieving, he’s looking awfully smug. This forces a waver in Ochako’s voice, especially when she thinks of the next thing she has to say.

“... and he tells me, he will never love anyone, like he does me,” she finishes. She feels her cheeks glow under the weight of his amused stare.

Aoyama sighs. “Words are wind, my love, and so are Hades’. No matter how sweet they sound. Do not trust him.”

A chasm appears in the earth to literally swallow Ochako whole. She gazes into it, and back to Mother, who tears up as he prepares to say goodbye once more.

She turns before she sees his grandiose and dramatic despairing, the wrath of the earth floating around him as he does. Ochako’s barely had her foot in the chasm when spring turns into fall, and the nymphs in the river begin to slip into quiet hibernation.

She jumps into the darkness and faces the ferryman, Deku--a fellow that’s probably too bright and sunny for his job, but one he takes seriously anyway. Ochako puts a coin in his hand and rides the boat through the mystic river.

“It’s, um, good to see you again, your highness,” Deku chirps a little too cheerily than he ought to be doing, in a river full of the dead. One of them glares at him from underwater, making him blush and force a grim look on his face. “So the land above is cold once more?”

“Yes. Such is the wrath of my queen mother.” She looks fearfully around the darkness, where ghosts and ghouls and such float. “The Underworld is doing well, it seems.”

“Yup! Our King works pretty hard to keep things in order! You know, judging the dead, punishing them, fixing the irrigation systems, things like that!”

“I see. It’s good to see that his highness managed well while I was gone.”

He seems to have completely given up being grim as they sail along the river, despite getting another pointed glare from the dead. With another bright smile incompatible with the setting, he says, “Oh, but don’t be down, my queen! His majesty thinks of you often as he governs us here!”

“Has he?” Ochako sighs dramatically. “I wonder if my king loves me as he says he does! My mother has warned me as much--”

They reach the end of the river. Deku alights and helps her off the boat. “Believe in our King. He waits for you to take his place by his side.”

Ochako nods, albeit uneasily, and leaves the ferryman at the edge of the river.

The Underworld is dark and grim and orderly. But she is the goddess of spring, and so flowers of all bright colors grow where her feet land. Fearlessly she makes her way through the mist and convoluted pathways, until she faces a great glass door, shining midnight blue.

Beyond which, her husband awaits.

And as she pushes the glass aside, she sees him. Tall, pale skin with blue scars and mismatched eyes, frost all around him. A sharp dark suit, a crown of twisted black metal on top of his pure silver hair. A mountain of scrolls and folders on his desk, the files of the dead souls awaiting judgment.  

He turns to her quite naturally. A genuine smile on his face, one that makes disembodied voices gasp and swoon all around him. “Persephone.”

Ochako stutters in her steps a bit, face frozen in a smile that feels unnatural. She shakes herself back to her senses subtly and steps forward and bows deeply. “Your highness. I have returned as promised.”

Amusement glints in his eyes as he watches her stand to her full height again. “It’s good to see you again, my love. Winter on earth cannot come soon enough.”

Someone from afar chokes--Ochako hears something that sounds suspiciously like dreeamy boy!!! in the voice of Bakugou the god of war, from far away. She tries not to lose her focus and dares herself to look up at the face of her, um… her husband. “It has been a long year indeed, my King.”

He pauses and regards her, an unreadable look in his eyes. “Is there anything wrong?”

With his doubt comes the cold; Ochako rubs the skin of her bare arms as the frost encompasses the room. “No, not at all, my King. I just… think of my mother.”

“Queen Demeter,” he says flatly with a huff. “What has my sister told you?”

She looks up at him fearfully. His eyes have become dark, his demeanor intimidating. Shadows seem to dance around him as he steps closer.

It’s hard to be dishonest, and so she closes her eyes and answers. “My mother has told me… she told me that words are wind, and so are yours, so… I cannot possibly trust--”

A cold hand clasps around her wrist. She is terrified and is powerless to open her eyes, but then she feels warmth around her, and hears him shift in front of her.

When she opens her eyes, she finds her small frame enveloped in his coat. He’s kneeling in front of her, eyes shining in the darkness.

He takes a deep breath and says, quite clearly. “Please, believe in me, my queen. Without you, my kingdom remains dark and my heart, as dead and empty as those I serve. I have loved no-one but you, and will love no-one else.”

Ochako is having a really hard time looking straight into his eyes. “H-Hades… I…”

He doesn’t move, staring right into her eyes, waiting patiently. To hear her affirmation, or perhaps to break his heart is to be determined.  

She bites her lower lip and swallows. “I… forgot my line…”

The air around them fills with groans in the next moment. “Really, Ochako-chan?! Just when it was getting good!”

“Sorry guys,” she whimpers as the lights switch on one by one. All around her, her classmates who have been pretending to be corpses at the edge of the stage get up and stretch.

From beyond the stage, Mina looks up at her, sighing as she fans herself with the script. “Anything wrong there, babe? You two are doing great so far, but you seem extra off just now? Kinda looking overheated there.”

Ochako sputters and shakes her head vehemently. “Wh-why would I be overheated, Mina-chan? It’s the opposite! It’s really cold up here!”

It is. They had Todoroki use his real ice instead of having the props team make imitation ones. The shivering parts of her acting were 100% real.

“You tell me, Ochako-chan. I’m just calling it as I see it,” Mina says with a wink that doesn’t make her feel any better. “In any case, I guess we can take a break for now. The two of you have been acting all morning, after all.”

With that, everyone disperses. Ochako takes a deep breath and releases it and begins to walk off the stage, trying not to slip on ice.

“Uraraka.”

“Todoroki-kun.” As distracting as the patch of blue that the make-up team placed over his scar is, she doesn’t miss the look of concern on his face as he walks beside her. “What is it? Oh--wait, I’m sorry, your coat…”

She begins to shrug off the coat, but he holds up two hands to stop her. “You can keep wearing it if you need to.”

“But…”

“You said you were cold. We aren’t doing our scenes in a while, anyway.”

“Oh,” she says with a bashful smile. “Yeah… Um, sorry for messing up the scene back there, Todoroki-kun. We should have been done for the day if I got it right.”

It’s hard to keep the feelings of embarrassment at bay, considering how many big mistakes she made in the past rehearsals despite her spending so many hours memorizing all the lines in Mina’s Greek mythology script. Compared to Todoroki-kun, who unexpectedly got into it very early on and delivers all his lines, angsty and lovey-dovey and everything else, without an ounce of hesitation. It’s unfair how talented Todoroki-kun is in many things without trying too hard!

Speaking of which, why was she cast in this role anyway? No-one was able to stop Mina-chan when they chose her idea for the cultural festival presentation, and no-one was also able to stop her from writing a script and consequently casting everyone in class. She doesn’t know what possessed her friend to cast Ochako in such a major role, and with Todoroki-kun as her leading man, and no-one bothered to give her a proper explanation for it.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” Todoroki tells her as they walk out of the classroom and towards the nearby vending machine. “I think you did well in your other scenes.”

… just not the ones with Todoroki-kun as Hades the King of the Underworld declaring his love for her and such, was the eventual conclusion. She groans and leans her head against the cool glass of the vending machine. “Urgh, I’m sorry you had to be cast with me, Todoroki-kun! I am so not good at romantic scenes! I don’t usually think of lovey-dovey stuff or anything like that…”

Sure you don’t, her brain snarks. She hits her forehead lightly against the machine in retaliation.

“I understand what you mean,” Todoroki agrees. “I don’t think about romance a lot, either.”

She puffs her cheeks. “But… you’re good at this. That makes it more unfair…”

Todoroki hums, a neither here nor there sound that doesn’t really sound like he’s agreeing. “Do you want anything?”

She shrugs, and gestures for him to pick for her. He presses a button near her ear, and she feels the cold of his fingertips against it. She should be recoiling at the feel of it, but she feels her cheeks warm up at the action instead.

Stupid! Why is she getting worked up about pretending to be his wife and hearing his fake proclamations of love up close? She’s inconveniencing Todoroki-kun and the rest of her class by being so iffy about acting when she should just suck it up and be a goddamn professional about this.

She tries to straighten up and look at her leading man just as the machine drops two bottles for pick-up. “So… Todoroki-kun. If you don’t think about romance that often, how are you able to say those cheesy lines from the script so easily?”

“... was my acting cheesy?” His eyebrows shoot up in mild concern.

She actually doesn’t know. It probably was by the way Bakugou was reacting, but everyone else including her was too mesmerized by him saying those lines at all to notice. “No, you were fine,” she finally manages.

Taking note of her odd answer, Todoroki instead mulls over her question seriously. It takes him a while and a bit of staring at Ochako that makes her feel out of sorts.

After a few more beats of silence, he begins speaking. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m good at pretending either, but when I have to, I try to mean what I say when I’m saying the lines.”

Ochako stares at him dumbly. “Ah… y-you mean… like… even those lovey-dovey lines?”

He nods, not looking the least bit embarrassed about the things he said.

“You’re kidding, Todoroki-kun! I’m sure you’re super good at pretending, just that you didn’t realize it until now…”

He shrugs. “Maybe. But it’s not hard pretending to care about you, Uraraka.”

His eyes aren’t as intense as they were on the stage, with all the shadows and lighting effects making blue and onyx shimmer so intimately, but his gaze and simple words paralyze her all the same.

To her silence, he looks right into her eyes and smiles, much like a scoundrel. “In fact, most of the time, it’s surprisingly easy. Even the parts where I talk about how dark and empty my heart is without you and all that.”

In utter disbelief, she flushes a deep red and has to look away from his teasing gaze before she melts in an incoherent puddle on the floor. What kind of guy just says these things without blinking? It’s hard to force herself not to turn away to say, “I change my mind, Todoroki-kun. You’re a ham. An utter cheeseball. You’re horrible.”

He huffs in amusement. “You said I wasn’t.”

“Well you are, and you’re the worst,” Uraraka says, finally turning away and puffing her cheeks in annoyance. No way is she going to survive this conversation if she allows him to look at her like that.

She hears him chuckle, and feels something cool being pushed into her hands. She looks down at the drink he’s bought her, and ends up gaping right at it.

“This is--”

The door to the classroom opens, Mina’s bright pink head popping out from within. “Ah, here’s my gorgeous loveteam is at. You guys ready for another rehearsal?”

Ochako’s jaw is still hanging open as Todoroki tells her, “Yeah, we’ll be there.”

“All righty~ better get to it, then,” she says. She gives them both a cheesy grin and disappears back into the classroom.

Todoroki walks ahead and looks back at her, that little smile still on his infuriating pretty mouth. “That’s my treat, by the way. Please finish it before you go back.”

He leaves, and Ochako is left to stare incredulously at the bottle of pomegranate green tea in her hand.

Yeah… he’s an utter cheeseball.

Before she can stop herself, she’s smiling all giddy and stupid and she has to straighten herself out to get back to a semblance of functionality. She puffs her cheeks, chugs down the drink in pure determination, and heads back to the rehearsal space, where the director and her leading man are waiting for her.

[thegreen1969pontiac]

L’appel Du Vide Chapter 9- Can You Pass The Salt

                                     Eventual Dean X OC

Summary: When Hope’s sister is killed in a less than a normal house fire, and Sam, her sister’s boyfriend, disappears with his brother after her death they’re her number one suspects. When the cops declare the case cold she begins her hunt for the Winchester boys. She follows them in hope for some evidence pointing to the death of her sister, but will she find more than just the cause and the killer? Will she find out more than she wanted to?

Warnings: Short chapter with no meaning.

Word Count: 1352

Turns out finding information about prison releases is harder than originally assumed. The second trial was done almost two months after the courthouse fire. Johnson's son, a boy named Elliot,  was tried for aggravated arson and first-degree murder. He was convicted to jail for the rest of his pathetic life and the families of the people he had killed were consoled and the town had mostly forgotten about the whole issue. Although when driving past the empty mansion that sat on the top of the golf course people would whisper about the fire and Elliot and what had happened 25 years ago. it wasn't until recently that things had begun to stir again, the judge who had originally convicted the young kid is now releasing him on account to good behavior. I assume the good behavior also had something to do with the good money his father seemed to continue to hand out to anyone who asked but it seems that after Elliot's father passed away last month and the fortune was passed down to him awaits him the prize seemed not only to wait for Elliot but also for anyone who helped his case as well. After his release, the events following had begun the suspicion that took me to the sunny California town of Auburn, California. It was after reading about how the town was the birthplace of George and Lennie in the novel Of Mice and Men that I finally gave up my search in finding any additional information on the murders. It seemed that no one cared for the deaths of almost sixteen people but more for the stolen youth of an old money asshole.

The need for additional evidence and information was evident. It had gone in the newspaper only two days ago that the same judge had 'combusted' in the middle of a court hearing. Information was limited all that was said was that the man had literally gone up in flames. The event had peaked my suspicion, a man bursting into flames in the middle of something as mediocre as a hearing seemed similar to Jess' case.

The town was clean, I was quickly able to find the records pretty easily, the police station had them their basement. I went under the letter J in the 70's folder. The name Johnson came up more times than I could possibly count, I took the bunch of them and headed back to the hotel that I came from already missing the rose scented soap that they had in their clean bathroom.

My adventure through town was a short one full of mostly window shopping and cups of coffee at the local coffee shop.  I was only halfway through all of the Johnson's filed in the boxes and on my third or fourth cup of coffee. It was sweet and sugar-filled, I skimmed through many of the Johnson files until finally, I came across something juicy. The other case files mainly consisted of speeding tickets or an occasional shoplifter, this one was an arson report. It was filed against Elliot Johnson, setting the field outside of town on fire. It was his first offense nothing after this seemed to imply anything jail worthy, apparently the kid got a taste of it and then couldn't stop.

The kid was pretty loaded, private everything, school, and life. He was the son of one of the old money guys someone who struck it rich and got lucky but blamed it on hard work. Elliot was captain of the football team, he got semi-good grades, and seemed to live a privileged life all around. I couldn't even begin to understand why this kid would throw it all away for something so destructive and aggressive. I guess that's why I'm here though to figure out what the hell this guy is doing. If this was some sick power play thing that Sam was into or if he truly just liked fire as Elliot did.

But as I sipped the lukewarm coffee I wondered how the hell this kid who just got out of jail managed to have this judge set himself on fire in such a way that there was no evidence to point to this result. I continued reading through this kid's file, the convictions continued with little evidence, leading to little punishment. Until finally, I came across the big one. The boy during one of his larger convictions paid off one of the jurors to set a fire. It must have been one big buck because the asshole died in the fire that he started, the kid escaped with the judge,  and lawyer escaped the fiery terror that Elliot had created.

The coffee shop begins to close as the light of day drains out of Auburn, and I throw the file on top of the others ready to explore more. I fling open the door to Theo and put all of the papers in the passenger seat and plop myself into the familiar leather seat of Theo. I drive for only about ten minutes humming along to Billy Joel and tapping my fingers trying to put together the pieces of the story. Why the hell would Elliot, a man who just got out of jail try and murder the guy that got him out in the first place? The idea is lost to me and I eventually pull into the cleanly motel with a small smile my face happy to be greeted with good room service and fluffy white pillows and a working hot shower.

The room had been serviced and a mint sat on the pillow and everything was made again, the bed and new towels were put up, and new replacements of shampoo and conditioner were sitting on the counter top calling my name. I set the stacks of documents on the table near the window and close the blinds. I undress from my leather jacket and tight turtle neck undressing as I finally reach the shower and finally pulling off my boots and placing them right outside of the bathroom door. I grab the rose scented products and head into the shower.

The shower was warm, I stayed in there until my skin turned a brilliant shade of pink and then I finally got out. I dried my rose-smelling hair with the towel making the already visible waves more pronounced and I grabbed one of the fluffy towels, I wrapped it around myself and almost squealed when I saw that the motel also provided lotion in the same scent. I spent a good ten minutes slowly massaging the nice smelling lotion into my legs, and arms. I felt more relaxed than I had in a while, I felt content.

I looked at the darkening sky through the edge of the window and then to the ominous notes that lay in the files. I decided against the latter option and began my night rituals, I pulled my hair out of the hair twistie thing that I made out of the towel and made it hang from the bathroom door, I pulled my hair up into a messy bun and pulled out my glasses which I placed next to my contact case. I had taken them out before I took a shower and was thankful to have my own eyes again. I brushed my teeth with some cheap toothpaste that I picked up at the convenience store only to find that it was cinnamon flavored. This seemed to be a silver lining though because after putting on my giant sweatshirt and a pair of sleep shorts I rediscovered the mint sitting on my pillow and ate it happily as I crawled into the neat bed.

I began to fall into the overwhelming darkness that I was met with and I began fiddling with my necklace, I felt a whiff of cold air and cuddled further into the sheets and blanket. I let sleep overtake me. I felt safe and I smiled.

It was as if my sister was looking down on me and smiling for the first time in months.

[girls-love-girls1200]

51. Hani x Reader •Boss•

If there was one word to describe your relationship with alarm clocks, your mother would probably say pure hatred, after all during the ever so dark days that formed your high school career she had had to reel you out of bed and frantically drive you to school while screaming about all the different ways you had disappointed her as a daughter on many, many occasions.

University had felt like a breath of fresh air, out of all the classes you were taking only one of them was an early morning, 8 am sharp the professor had advised on the first day of classes, and yet you still managed to show up almost every week at least ten minutes late with a notebook in one hand and and a random fruit in the other, cheeks heating up under the teacher’s discouraged gaze, the disappointment in eyes as clear as day.

One would think that as young adult entering the first stages of your career of choice you would have wised up, your job was a real responsibility to be honest, you absolutely loved it, there was no doubt about that, but somehow, you had to be late at least once a week and after working at the architectural firm that was Ahn Corporate for three years your coworkers had started a tradition of betting at the beginning of every week on the day you would arrive late, whoever won had to buy coffee for the whole office.

Sometimes you wondered how you still managed to keep your dream job and why nobody had scolded you for your everlasting tardiness, and as you voiced your doubts to one of your colleagues the answer was one you had decided to ignore ever since and act like you had never heard anything, except for when you found yourself working on designs at two in the morning, only then those words would come back to you,

“You’re one of the top drafting and design technicians out there at the moment, Miss Ahn is convinced you’re a diamond, she has one hell of a soft spot for you Y/N.”

Unsurprisingly, on a freezing December morning you found yourself bursting through the company doors your briefcase tight in your arms as it held one of your more treasured projects yet, only after jumping in the elevator you gave yourself a second to calm your breathing, and as you caught your reflection in the mirrored door you almost shrieked, running a hand through your hair in order to make it slightly presentable, fastening the last button of your shirt just as the elevator dinged. You didn’t even have time to put on your lenses as you sped walked towards the conference room, checking the time on the wall above the entrance you sighed at the fact you had managed to arrive fifteen minutes late.

The serious atmosphere that embraced you as soon as you set foot in the room felt extremely suffocating, you spotted the familiar faces of a few of your colleagues around the long table, they were kind enough to send a few reassuring glances your way.

Most of the faces at the table you didn’t recognize though, they were probably some higher ups or representatives of the company you had been doing the project for, but one thing was for sure, they didn’t seem happy to have been held up for fifteen minutes waiting for your arrival.

At the head of the table sat the woman you had only seen on rare occasions and spoke to once, when she had welcomed you on your first day at work but it was safe to say that she had been on your mind a lot ever since.

Ahn Heeyeon was in your eyes an incredible woman, her and her older brother had inherited Ahn Corporate from their late father at a very young age and they somehow managed to elevate the architectural firm to an even higher level, it was known as one of the most prestigious firms internationally and it attracted extremely wealthy clients from all over the world, ranging from celebrities to politicians to bankers and other huge corporations.

The woman was highly recognized for her intelligence and hard work but little to nothing was known about her personal life, the tabloids liked to make up crazy rumors about how she had never dated in her entire life because of how work focused she was.

But as you looked in her eyes while walking towards your designated seat you could see a kindness and fondness that was so very rare.

“Good morning everyone, I’m terribly sorry for my tardiness but I can assure you all you won’t be as disappointed in my work as you are in my behavior.”

You dared to peek at your boss, sighing in relief as the beautiful woman showed signs of a small smile on her face.

Opening your briefcase you fished out your glasses among the infinite amount of papers you carried for some reason, even when clients mostly requested digital blueprints and projects, you could never come up with an idea if you didn’t have a sharp pencil and a white sheet of paper in front of you. Grabbing the transparent folder you had forgot to label, you passed it on to Miss Ahn, who always preferred to present every important project herself.

As your eyes met she sent you a sweet smile and mouthed a thank you, making you break out in an unflattering blush as you lightly bowed your head towards her.

You anxiously awaited her reaction to the project you had spent all night perfecting, a space for an open air art installation on the coast of Naples, you had somehow managed to come with an idea that was extremely peculiar, but that is what your work was known for and what clients always expected from you.

The woman’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly as she looked at the intricate lines and curves drawn out on the paper in front of her, to be honest she got goosebumps every time she saw one of Y/N’s projects for the first time, the girl that had been recommended to her by a friend who taught at one of the most prestigious universities in Korea had caught her attention from the very first design she had presented at her interview, and now, as she tried to piece together her latest work she couldn’t help but smile lightly, even knowing the full attention of everyone in the room was on her.

“Miss Ahn if I may, I’ve also sent the digital blueprints to your email, they might be easier for our clients to get a grip of how I envisioned the space.”

The way you stumbled through the sentence made her heart flutter lightly inside her chest, and as she turned on the monitor behind her your ideas appeared, making you blush once again as you realized that she was one step ahead of you.

The rest of the meeting went by smoothly and you somehow managed to answer every question you were asked, throwing yourself into the chair at your usual work desk you couldn’t help but release a huge sigh of relief, a small giggle coming from Chaeyoung while she rolled her chair over to you, handing you a cup of coffee, “How you managed to pull that off I have no idea Y/N, but that piece was pretty impressive.”

Her mischievous eyes stared straight at you as you thanked her while kicking her chair back, making her roll to desk.

“Shut up and keep working Chaeyoung then maybe one day you’ll get paid as much as I do loser.”

Her laugh echoed through the office as she threw a pencil at you, missing by an inch as it hit Heechul on the arm, earning a colorful string of curse words on his behalf.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps approaching interrupted your fun, all three of you scrambled to your work stations, trying your best to look as if you were actually working.

“Y/N, Miss Ahn would like to see you.”

You turned around startled, only to be met by your boss’s assistant, a cold gaze in her eyes that automatically made you panic, you felt your colleagues gazes on your back as you followed the tall woman, your eyes fixated on her tight ponytail that swung with every step she took.

The journey to the top floor seemed to last an eternity before you finally arrived to the huge glass office that belonged to Ahn Heeyeon, as indicated by the gold plaque hanging above the entrance.

Your heart leaped in you chest and for a second you worried if it were actually possible that it might jump up your throat, shaking the dumb thought out of your head you followed the secretary inside.

To be honest, you couldn’t believe your eyes as you stepped inside the large office, one of the youngest and most famous entrepreneurs in South Korea was sitting crossed leg on the floor, an array of takeway food spread out before her, by the smell you assumed Chinese, a smartphone was ringing on her huge glass desk while another was on the floor next to her,

“Jeonghwa please make that devil sound stop please, I’m having my lunch!”

The tall assistant let out a small giggle as she shook her head, “You’re getting lazier every day that passes boss.”

The older woman’s gaze finally caught you standing in the corner mouth agape like a fish out of water,

“Oh, Y/N I’m so happy you accepted my lunch invitation, come, come sit!”

She looked straight at you and invited you over with overzealous hand gestures, chopsticks flying in the air and a bit of sauce dripping down her chin, and all you could do was move forward and sit directly in front of her without saying a word.

“You know how you got your job here right?”

You shook you head as she passed you some clean chopsticks, the room now enveloped in silence,

“Well, professor Kim is a very good friend of mine and he talked very fondly of you, I needed and a new design technician with fresh ideas so I decided to give you a chance...”

After careful consideration you decided to go for a Potsticker, still having no idea as to what you were doing there precisely you munched down, paying careful attention to her words,

“And to be honest, it was a risky move, but now I realize it was one of the best decisions I have taken for this company.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you stammered out a couple of thankyous, her eyes never leaving you, as a strand of snowy hair fell down her face,

“Now this might sound completely unprofessional but I get this feeling that you are very special, so I was hoping we could get to know eachother over lunch.”

A shy smile graced her features and you could’ve dropped dead in that second if it weren’t for the fact that you didn’t want to waste the opportunity to get to know the beautiful woman in front of you better.

“Lucky for you Miss Ahn, Chinese is my favorite.”

Her eyes sparkled at your words, your fingers went to the paper napkin poking out of one of the plastic bags the food had come in and you gracefully passed it to her,

“By the way you have sauce on your chin.”

Her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink as her eyes widened before the both of you fell into a ruckus of laughter.

As weeks passed rapidly, lunches in her office had become a habit, fortunately all your colleagues seemed to actually ship the two of you and made fun of your ,very obvious in their opinion, crush on Miss Ahn, just Heeyeon behind closed doors.

And I mean how could you not fall for such an endearing woman, she treated you with the softest manners, her eyes sparkled ever so much and there were times she made your belly ache from laughing so hard.

You couldn’t believe she had let you see a side of her that rarely ever was in the public eye, there were days you could almost see the pressure of all her responsibilities crushing her and so you tried your best to lift her spirits, even if just for a minute.

So you found yourself worrying about her ever so often, especially in these days before the annual company gala that marked the begging of the Christmas holidays, you hadn’t been able to see her in days and apparently she had been a no show in the office too.

“So are you gonna go in a suit or a dress?”

Chaeyoung stared at you from her desk chewing on a piece of gum as she waited on the phone after having been put on hold by a client,

“To be honest yesterday I got my paycheck and I think I might treat myself for once.”

Her eyes sparkled at your words, she wasn’t known as the queen of shopping for no reason, you didn’t even answer her question as the little clock on your desktop struck twelve thirty, hurrying towards the elevator you hoped she would be in today and as the familiar doors to her office finally came into view a light excitement bubbled in your chest,

but as soon as it had arrived it left when you saw Jeonghwa with a stressed out expression, disheveled hair, speaking on two phones at the same time, her face falling as she met your eyes, shaking her head was all she needed to do and you turned on your heels, anger rising in your chest.

You considered Heeyeon a friend now and the fact that you hadn’t heard anything from her in a while bothered you immensely, mostly because you knew you had absolutely no right to feel that way, she owed you nothing an saw you most probably as a friendly colleague whom made for a bit of fun at work, she didn’t have to explain anything to you and somehow that made your ribcage tighten in your chest, painfully suffocating your heart.

On the night of the gala you would have gladly stayed at home in your pijama with some takeaway and Netflix, but the expensive jumpsuit sitting in your closet since the day before was enough to motivate you, plus the fact that ever since last year this event had been decreted mandatory for all Ahn Corporate employees.

So you suited up, the black one piece fitting you in all the right places, intricate lace designs played a big part, a large slit in the back dipping low had convinced you it was absolutely worth the money, knowing you would definitely be getting some attention you grabbed your red bottom stilettos, a clutch and shouted a quick goodbye to your cat before leaving.

“Is there anything better than free food?”

Chaeyoung was barely visible behind the mountain of mashed potatoes, but the excitement in her voice was evident, Heechul sat down next you and plopped two large bottles of champagne on the round table you and another three colleagues had been designated for the night,

“Yes, free alcohol.”

You ignored his stink eye as you downed your glass, nerves settling in your belly as the moment for the annual big speech approached, in which Heeyeon and her brother would as per usual announce some big plans for the future ahead, and as the lights in the large hall dimmed and the loud chatter from the hundreds of people present turned to light whispers you knew it was time, and you found yourself quite pathetic for being so damn excited to see her.

Loud cheers and applause were heard as the siblings made their entrance on the small stage on which the band had just been playing, your heart stopped.

Her hair was no longer white as snow but it gradually turned to pink and purple hues that cascaded down her back, the white suite she was was wearing complemented the new hairstyle perfectly, she exuded confidence and sophistication as she caught everybody’s attention, a black lace bralette could be seen peeking out from under the white blazer.

In that moment you felt as if someone had just made you swallow three liters of pure emotions and you couldn’t breathe, what you felt for her was something completely new to you and incredibly scary, so before you made a fool of yourself by throwing up in front of everybody you grabbed your clutch and made and escape towards a terrace you had spotted a couple of smokers at earlier, unknowingly catching the attention of a few people, Ahn Heeyeon included.

Walking on a terrace in the middle of the night with nothing but a jumpsuit probably wasn’t the best idea, but you braved through the cold and rested your arms against the railings, relishing in the fresh air that let you breathe peacefully and allowed you to collect your thoughts.

It wasn’t long before your little moment of peace was interrupted by the clicking of heels on the tiled floor and a feminine presence settling next to you as you felt a soft blazer being rested on your shoulders, the pleasant heat enveloping you in a second, her light perfume ever so present.

“You look beautiful tonight.”

As hard as you tried you couldn’t avoid the blush that crept onto your face when she said that, her shoulder touching your own as you both faced the garden underneath,

“You’ve been busy.”

A long sigh followed your statement and then more silence,

“I‘ve had a lot to do and to think about Y/N, but let me tell you I missed our lunches more than anything ever.”

You let a small laugh escape you, it was useless to even try and stay angry at her for literally no reason whatsoever,

“I like your new hair.”

“I like you Y/N.”

Her heavy words hung in the silence, the chatter from inside muted by your heart beating loudly in your ears, debating whether or not to pinch yourself you turned towards her, mouth agape she stared directly at you,

“I have for a while now, and I know for a fact that I need you in my life to remind me how happy I can really be, and I know you like to take your time with things but for this once I need your answer immediately Y/N.”

For once in your life you didn’t hesitate as you delicately grabbed her chin and pulled her face against yours, lips crashing together you cherished her taste as your other hand moved to the soft baby hairs at the back of her neck, while hers held your body tight against hers.

You broke the kiss and stared in her dark eyes, being able to recognize the fondness she felt for you, something ever so strong pulled the two of you back together, her lips moving passionately against yours as she trapped you against the railing, her cold fingers against your back, you poked your tongue through and she did the same, something deep in your stomach took over as your teeth clashed and both your breaths became heavier, but something seemed to click in Heeyeon’s brain as she pulled away, resting her forehead against your own,

“How about we take this some other place a bit warmer, like my apartment.”

You couldn’t help the toothy smile that graced your features as your fingers played with the hoops on her trouser,

“Can you even ditch your own gala?”

her breath hit your lips as she giggled lightly, placing a chaste kiss on your lips she grabbed your wrist and pulled you away, you followed like a puppy,

“I’m the boss jagi, I can do whatever I want.”

[twowish]

Chapter 2: R-da-1st

“Why not get your own car?” Felix asks after they’d been awkwardly driving in silence for a while.

Noelle’s hands stop their motions. After wracking her brain for suitable things to talk about and coming up empty, she’d gotten out some yellow yarn and a hook to crochet. “What, for taking the auspices?” This had become her prefered way to refer to her plan.

“Well, yeah,” he says, looking at her over Claude. The raccoon is sound asleep draped over the right side of Felix’s chair, his furry head resting on his shoulder. “Wouldn’t it be easier to drive yourself? Just saying.”

She lowers the yarn. “Driving’s not far behind flying in my book.” And despite aunt Darcy’s encouragement, she’d steadfastly refused to get behind the wheel. “Besides, the city had plenty of public transportation.”

“So then a bus? Train?”

These were, of course, all things she’d thought of and considered. “I didn’t want to do a bunch of switching around or waiting on trains or bus routes. And the fewer people I have to explain this all to, the better.” Not to mention the less crowded an area, the easier she could hear and communicate. People in general felt like a challenge she wanted to keep to a minimum if she could. It wasn’t so much that she felt shy, she just knew that some found her and her habits (like her folder of endless notes) odd.

“And I guess a plane was outta the question, huh?” Felix continues.

“Completely. This was the best solution I came to.” She looks at him curiously. “Are you trying to get out of this?”

“No, no, just wondering.”

If she’s honest, she’s grateful for Felix’s eventual willingness to drive her, but it’s also hard not to wonder what’s led to that willingness. She’d been looking for someone desperate, and she seemingly found him. What exactly was his deal?  

Noelle starts to crochet again when Felix’s phone rings. A song blares out from where the device is still in the cradle. Claude stirs to life. “Ooh baby, do you know what that’s worth? Ooh heaven is a place on earth,” Belinda Carlisle croons. The caller ID on the screen simply reads “NOPE.”

Felix fumbles in a panic with the phone, ripping it from the cradle and hitting the ignore button. He sets it back down when NOPE calls again, setting off another chorus of Heaven is a Place on Earth.

Another ignore, another call, one more ignore, and then silence. Felix sighs and returns the phone to the cradle.

“Belinda Carlisle?” Noelle asks, remembering the reviews she’d read.

“Yeah, well, they used it in my favorite episode of… nevermind,” he trails off.

Noelle involuntarily flinches at the last word. She’d been told “nevermind” or “forget it” countless times when she’d asked people to repeat themselves. True, Felix hadn’t used the word that way, but it still conjures an old frustration within her.

“Who’s NOPE?” she asks.

“Look, maybe questions should cost extra.”

Noelle brings the yarn and hook back up in front of her. “This road trip’s going to get awful boring with that attitude.”

“Fine. We’ll trade off questions one at a time. You can go first. Just don’t ask about NOPE.”

His resistance only makes her more curious, but she doesn’t push it. She focuses on the project in front of her as she asks, “What’s with the raccoon?”

Felix glances at Claude, who’s drifting off back to sleep on his shoulder. “I used to sort of work at a vet clinic. Never finished vet school, but because I could talk to animals, I was useful to have around. They had a raccoon that had been at the clinic for his whole life - that was Claude. His mother was killed when he was a cub, and he got so used to people that he couldn’t be released. He’s small, too, for an adult raccoon, which probably wouldn’t help in the wild. But that place? It - it wasn’t great. At all. So one day I left and I took Claude with me.”

Noelle pauses her work. “What do you mean ‘it wasn’t great?’” What could have been so bad that he would kidnap a raccoon?

“Hey, hey, it’s my turn for the questioning. What are you making?”

“This?” Noelle says, holding up the yellow object slowly coming together. “Not sure yet. Think your woodland creature will wear a sweater?”

“You’re gonna put a sweater on a raccoon?”

“It’s getting cold!”

Felix looks incredulous. “He’s got a sweater! He grew it.”

“So ask him if he likes layering.”

“Hey,” Felix bobs his shoulder up and down, waking Claude again. “You wanna wear people clothes? She’s making you something.”

Claude sits up groggily, rubbing at his face with tiny raccoon hands before carefully climbing down from his perch to the space between the seats. He looks from Noelle to her hands, watching her work. He chitters back to Felix.

“Well, looks like you’ve got a willing model,” Felix tells her. “He likes the color.”

“Me too,” she says, smiling at Claude. “It’s my favorite.” She remembers watching him argue with Felix inside the car as she stood outside. If he was what changed Felix’s mind about driving her, then this sweater was a thank you.

He turns his head at her and watches her work.

Claude was a surprise, but she’s warming up to him. Plus, the more accepting she is of him, the more Felix seems to chat. He’s clearly very attached to his strange pet.

“So what was so bad about the clinic?” she asks.

“I- I got a little something I didn’t ask for when I got my wish.” There’s a pause, like he’s considering how much he should really tell her. “I don’t just talk to animals; I can also feel their pain.”   

When a wish is granted, there’s always a chance of a particular drawback accompanying it. Some are more severe than others, and some lucky few have no negative effects at all. Noelle became very familiar with what could await her with flying: insect wings require vigilant cleaning to function properly, bird wings have seasonal molts that can be painful and itchy, levitation could be involuntary, and on and on it goes. Talking to animals was not that unusual a gift, but this side effect was not one she’d heard of.

Felix continues. “And let me tell you, they sure used that to their advantage, even when they didn’t need to… Anyway, some of the staff were pretty annoyed with Claude. I think growing up in a clinic made him particular about things. He likes to be clean, and he’s a picky eater- well, except for marshmallows. Someone must have got frustrated with him and hurt him. He wouldn’t tell me what happened, but I could feel it; was like someone kicked me in the ribs.” His hand covers his left side for a moment.

“I asked around, but no one was gonna tell me anything. A lot of them didn’t want me there and they weren’t afraid to show it. There was a lot of fuss over me being a dropout. Things kept happening with Claude - minor injuries that he wouldn’t explain and no one knew anything about - then one day I caught it.”

Noelle listens carefully as Claude lays his head on her lap.

“He - one of the vets - thought everyone was gone, but I was still there cleaning up a mess a dachshund left and he didn’t see me when I stopped in the doorway. He’d tried to give Claude kibble, but he’d spilled it on the floor. Instead of getting new food, he just kinda swept it up into a bowl, and that? Even I knew that wouldn’t fly for Claude. There was no way he was eating food that had touched the floor.

“He pushed the bowl to Claude, and Claude pushed it back. The vet got mad, threw the bowl, and it hit Claude right in the face. I felt it too - nearly screamed. The vet went to leave, I hid, and when he was gone, I grabbed Claude and we got the hell out of there. That was a couple years ago.” He reaches into a pocket to hand Claude another marshmallow. “Been trying to do the rideshare thing ever since.”

Noelle isn’t sure what to say. What could she say? She can’t imagine anyone willingly being cruel to the creature seated between them, even with her ambivalence towards raccoons. “That’s… pretty awful.”

“Yeah, it was.” Felix taps on the steering wheel in a nervous way. “They weren’t all bad though. Couple of the other vets were decent, and there were always hilarious things happening. One time somebody brought in their boyfriend, Mothman, because they weren’t sure he could go to a regular hospital.”

“Are you serious?” Noelle laughs, grateful that he’s lightened the mood after such a serious story.

Felix grins, “I swear it’s true. Okay, okay, my turn.” He scratches at his chin. “Is this - is this alright? Like, for hearing? I’m not sure what, uh-”

She can tell he’s trying to broach the subject as carefully as possible - most people did. “The car’s quiet, and you’re to my left, so I can hear you fine. Just don’t put the music on if we’re talking.”

“Gotcha. … Anything else I should know?”

Noelle thinks for a moment, hands still continuing to work on the sweater. “When you can, talk to me face to face so I can try to lipread in noisier places. And when I ask you to repeat something, just repeat.”

“Alright.” They’re both silent for a moment, before Felix says, “Your turn.”

She considers the things he’s told her so far. “Why didn’t you finish vet school.”

“Oh, uh, there was just a lot going on and there was - it was just too much at the time. I figured I’d go back someday, but, well, here we are.”

“I didn’t finish school either.”

“No?”

“Nope, I was too preoccupied with this. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do anyway. I was just going for a general studies degree.” She thinks back to how disappointed her aunt was when she quit. There’s so much she’s put on hold for this trip.

Felix clears his throat. “Speaking of, what are we after in Spokane? An ‘auspice?’ That what you called it?”

“Thought you didn’t believe me.”

“I’m not saying I do, but as long as we’re driving there anyway, I’d like to know what mcguffin we’re chasing.”

Noelle sets aside the little yellow sweater. “It’s a tennis racket. I bought it off someone online who collects them. It belonged Samantha Cole, an Augur who was apparently fond of tennis.”

“And how do you know it’s the real deal?”

“I don’t, at least not entirely, but it looks legit and matched up to pictures I’d found of Samantha with it. The woman I talked to was knowledgeable and seemed almost hesitant to sell it. She was afraid of it getting damaged, so she wouldn’t ship it to me. I’m meeting her at a cafe in Spokane to pick it up.”

“Well,” says Felix, readjusting the seat belt fastened across him. “Here’s hoping it’s-”

“What, not a racket racket?” There is only one kind of joke Noelle is partial to: wordplay, especially if it’s terrible.

“You know, you saying that just made this drive twice as long.”

______

But, puns did not extend the drive, and now they sit, waiting at a tiny cafe called Lochness Latte. They chose a table in the back corner away from the noise of the entrance, and watch for Noelle’s contact to arrive.

A waiter comes by; a man with large, leathery bat wings and Noelle becomes laser focused on the tiny menu in her hands. She won’t meet his gaze, even as she orders hot cocoa.

Felix watches her hand the menu to the bat-winged waiter without looking at him, but says nothing. He’s seated across from her where she can clearly see his face.

In addition to the settings on her hearing aid, Noelle relies on a few different observations for conversation when not in a space like an enclosed car. There is lipreading, but sometimes missed words could also be found in body language or certain facial expressions - like how people have a tendency to raise their eyebrows while asking a question.

It’s exactly what Felix is doing now as he asks, "Who are we waiting on?”

“All I know is a username: ‘R-da-1st.’ I guess just watch for someone walking in with a very old tennis racket.”

R-da-1st had been suspicious of her when they first started messaging one another - she didn’t seem to want Samantha Cole’s racket to go to just anyone. Noelle had no interest in tennis, but she knew Augurs, so she earned R-da-1st’s trust in their conversations about Samantha.   

“You don’t have a name?”

Noelle shrugs. “She wouldn’t give it. Just someone who collects tennis memorabilia, I think.” This particular auspice had been the easiest to find since R-da-1st just happened to list it online. She wouldn’t get so lucky with the rest. She could have dug more into who was selling it and how it got there, but with with other objects to track down and someone willingly giving this one up, she turned her sights on more difficult pursuits.

“Well,” Felix says, “Guess we’re on racket watch.”

Then the waiting begins.

Their drinks come and Felix and Claude have an argument over whether Claude can have the marshmallows from Noelle’s hot cocoa. They reach a compromise where Claude is ordered some granola with chocolate-free marshmallows on the side. Though, this doesn’t stop the raccoon from eyeing Noelle’s cup as he sits in his own chair with a booster seat.

Noelle and Felix sit and idly browse their phones while nursing warm drinks, glancing at the cafe door each time it opens.  

Felix’s phone rings again, suddenly flooding the cafe with Belinda Carlisle - NOPE calling once more. He hastily ignores it.

Noelle’s own phone vibrates with a text message - Aunt Darcy asking how she is. She keeps the conversation simple and mentions nothing of “taking the auspices.” She doesn’t want her to worry or try to convince her to stop.

They watch and wait, but the appointed time for meeting with R-da-1st comes and goes with no one in the cafe carrying in a tennis racket.

Felix yawns. “Where’s your gal, huh?”

“I’m not sure.” Noelle checks her exchange with R-da-1st on her phone. Maybe she’d gotten the time wrong? But no, her contact really had just not shown up. Maybe R-da-1st is late?

She sends another message, but there’s no response.

Meanwhile Felix and Claude bat a balled up napkin back and forth to each other.

She watches a few Quasar videos to bring the unease she’s feeling down. She’s watched and rewatched so many that galaxy print itself feels like a comfort. Where did he get all those shirts? They almost never repeat.

“Quasar?” Felix asks when he hears the voice from her phone.

She nods. “You a fan?”

“For sure.” He smiles.

“You think he’s an Augur?” She was always curious to hear people’s response to that question.

Felix looks surprised for a moment, his eyes widening. Did he not know that was one of the most popular fan theories about Quasar? He scratches at his chin. “I dunno. It’s possible, I guess,” he says and goes back to Claude and their makeshift ball.

____

Now it’s growing dark outside. Noelle resumes crocheting while Felix has leaned back in his chair, head resting against a wall, asleep. Claude’s curled up in a furry gray circle on his chest, nearly blending in with his jacket.

The waiter returns. Noelle sees his wings out of the corner of her eye and her jaw clenches. She feels bad for how rude she must seem - she certainly doesn’t want to offend the waiter - but her reactions feel involuntary.

He says something quietly, obviously trying not to wake her table companion, and Noelle doesn’t catch it. She glances at Felix but he’s still passed out, Claude rising and falling with his breathing.

Noelle lowers the yarn in her hands and forces herself to make eye contact. The waiter seems apprehensive of her and she feels a pang of guilt. Perhaps she had offended him. His name tag reads “Steve.” She focuses on his face and ignores his wings. “What did you say?”

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asks again, his tone uneasy.

“We were supposed to meet someone here a while ago,” she tells him, hands fidgeting with the crochet hook, “but I guess she’s not coming.”

“Mind if I ask who? Maybe it’s a regular.”

“I only know her username.”

Steve moves a hand in a circular motion - an indication to say it anyway.

“R-da-1st?”

Steve’s face suddenly becomes all smiles. “Rita!”

Felix jumps, waking and sending Claude sprawling onto the table. “Is she here?!”

The waiter seems unfazed. He pulls out a chair and sits with them, his features alight with interest. “Rita Cardoso! She always meets her buyers here! Been selling off some of her collection recently. Took that loss pretty hard and quit for awhile I guess. Wonder if she’s done for good.”

“Loss?” Noelle asks.

“Done with what?” Felix says as Claude climbs up to his shoulder.

Steve looks at each of them, and his wings give a perplexed quiver. “Don’t you know who Rita Cardoso is?”

“Rita Cardoso,” Felix repeats. “Something about that sounds familiar.”

Noelle shakes her head.

Steve jumps to his feet, the chair behind him clacking to the ground. To Noelle’s horror his wings spread behind him as he crouches down, bringing two hands together to hold an invisible tennis racket. “Rita Cardoso!” he yells, throwing an imaginary ball in the air and swinging. “The unbeatable first lady of tennis!”

“Right!” Recognition registers on Felix’s face. “That’s where I’ve heard her name before! Rita’s a tennis star!”

“Love-fifteen!” Steve points at Felix.

______

Per Steve’s directions, they’re driving down a long wooded road outside Spokane to the mansion of Rita Cardoso, former tennis star and holder Samantha Cole’s auspice. Noelle feels a little odd about just showing up at this woman’s house, but she lets her pure determination to find the racket shove that aside. Maybe Rita had forgotten? Maybe this would be more convenient for her even?

Felix seems to share her concern. “Hope she don’t mind us turning up on her doorstep.”

“Well,” Noelle says. “We came all the way out here. We can’t not try, right?”

“I suppose, but, uh, there’s probably a reason she’s got her place in the middle of nowhere.”

And probably also a reason why she meets people at the cafe instead.

Noelle frowns. This was definitely not her best plan. “Let’s just see what it looks like and we’ll figure it out from there.”

While they drive, Noelle researches what she can about Rita on her phone. There are many photos of a woman in a white skirt and red top, with a long, full, brown ponytail bouncing along behind her. She’s muscular, tall, and formidable. She looks every bit the tennis prodigy the internet claims her to be. She tries searching several different ways, but can’t find any mention of what Rita’s wish had been.

Rita seemed to have a successful career with win after win, but something happened: She unexpectedly lost to a relative newcomer and disappeared from the tennis world. Many articles wonder when or if she would make her return. Some even questioned where she was now, claiming she was in hiding from her defeat.

The more she reads, the more she hesitates. If what she’s found is any indication, Rita doesn't want company. But what’s the alternative? Lose this auspice? No, she has to at least see what they’re up against.

There’s a break in the trees as Felix turns onto a long driveway.

He slams on the breaks.

They’re stopped in front of a huge mansion, but something is most definitely wrong. It’s covered in something fuzzy and mottled green, white, and gray colors. It’s spread over the entire building like a blanket, long strings and sheets of it stretching to the ground. It’s so well encased that it’s hard to make out what the mansion’s proper shape should be.

“Is that… mold?” Noelle says.

They drive closer, and stop outside the doors. Both get out of the car and gawk at the impossible in front of them. There’s no lights on inside and no one around. It looks forbidding and abandoned. The night air is chilly and the mansion is giving off a mildewy smell. Wind rustles some of the mold coats, making the surface of the building look like it’s undulating.

“Guess that explains why she wasn’t at the cafe,” Felix says as Claude perches on his shoulder, a disgusted look on his furry face.

“Hope she’s home.” Noelle mumbles, still in awe of the mansion.

She ducks back inside the car to grab the pocket watch, afraid to leave the one auspice she has behind.

They walk towards the mansion, inspecting it. Claude gives an anxious chitter.

“What? Nah, we’re not going inside,” Felix tells him. “Right?” He looks at Noelle.

She considers this. Was she willing to go inside? “Let’s start with knocking on the door first.”

They stand on the massive porch, and Noelle looks for any open areas not mold-covered to knock on.

There’s the sound of squealing tires behind them.

A black car is speeding down the driveway, white writing along the side of it. It’s windows are tinted so dark that they can’t see anything inside. It screeches to a halt in front of the mansion right beside Felix’s car.

Now that it’s stopped, Noelle makes out the words “Mold Busters” on the car along with a phone number and the slogan, “If you’ve got mold and mildew, we’ll help you bid it adieu.”

She and Felix exchange glances.

A man emerges dressed completely in black and wearing sunglasses despite the darkness around him. Across the front of his shirt in a curvy font that looks befitting of a tattoo shop is “Moldinator” in white letters. A black cap with the company name tops his head and a bulky utility belt is strapped to him.

“Oh no, no, no, I don’t think so!” he says, stomping his way up the porch to them. “This is my job. Who sent you?”

“Whoa, what are you talking about?” Felix says, holding his hands defensively in front of him.

The man in black points up at the mansion. “You see this? This, is Moldinator’s territory! You hear? I’ve got this.”

“Moldinator?” Felix asks. Claude growls.

The man jabs a finger at his own chest. “That’s right! That’s me, and I’ll be busting this mold on my own. I don’t know who sent you, but you can leave now that a real mold professional has arrived.”

“We don’t want to do anything with the mold,” Noelle tells him, bewildered at what another strange turn this is taking. “We were just looking for the owner.”

Moldinator’s demeanor changes. He crosses his arms and puts a hand to his chin, pensive. “Ah, yeah, the fungus witch. That’s gonna be a time.”

“Fungus witch?” she asks him.

“Lady who owns this mess!” He sounds exasperated with them. “Always knew that wasn’t gonna end well.”

Another exchange of looks between her and Felix.

“Guess that was the wish she got,” Felix shrugs.

Why would a tennis star wish to be a fungus witch? Noelle makes a mental note to add Rita to the data in her folder if she gets a chance. Maybe Moldinator too.

Moldinator pulls out a child’s water gun from the utility belt around his waist. “Well, if you’re not a competitor, I guess you can stay. Might need the help anyway.” He sprays whatever’s in the squirt gun onto the door handle, and an overwhelming chemical smell fills the air on the porch.

The mold covering the handle deteriorates and recedes.

“What, we’re breaking and entering now?” Felix says warily. There’s nervous chitters from Claude as he stands on his shoulders and places his hands on Felix’s head, eyeing Noelle.

Noelle freezes, mind filling with questions. How far was she willing to go for this auspice? Should they really be doing this? But, why had Rita not met them at the cafe? Why does the mansion look like this?

“What if there’s something wrong?” she says, unable to keep the last questions silent. “What if Rita or someone in there needs help?”

Moldinator hitches his pants up by his belt. “And that’s why Moldinator’s here.”

Felix scowls. “But the door might not even be-”

Moldinator turns the handle and the door opens with a loud, ominous creek.

He shines a light inside, looking around and making a “hmmm” noise, before fishing in one of the many pockets of the belt. He takes out three surgical masks, one black and two white. He hands the white ones to each of them, saving the black one for himself. “Just in case,” he says placing the mask over his nose and mouth. “Spores.” He walks cautiously inside.

Noelle sighs, knowing the masks will make lipreading impossible. She stares after Moldinator, hesitating. This auspice was supposed to be so easy to get and now? Now she’s facing a moldy mansion and a fungus witch. She thinks about how close her 25th birthday is; it’s like a ticking time bomb. She’s got to try. Noelle turns to Felix, pulling her mask onto her face, careful not to disrupt the hearing aid. “I’m going in.”

Felix frowns at the mask in his hand, and Noelle wonders if it reminds him of his time at the vet clinic.

“You don’t - you don’t have to go,” she tells him.

He looks up at her and is silent, thinking. Then he starts to put the strings of the mask over his ears. “Eh, what’s a little mold, right?”

Noelle gives him an appreciative smile, though the mask hides it.

Claude’s grip increases around Felix’s head. Felix pries at his paws, trying to loosen them. “He doesn’t wanna touch the mold.”

“That makes two of us,” Noelle says gingerly stepping over the threshold.

They follow Moldinator inside the fungus infested home.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[millionsofbeautifulstars]

Human Of Silver

Graduation day was here, angels from all over came and sat watching the guardian class of 2098 graduate. Of these graduates sat two good friends, Zazriel and Ophanim, the two had enrolled together and had gone on countless tasks together. Zazriel was ready to get his case and begin working as a guardian angel, Ophanim on the other hand was less ready. Ophanim had done numerous other tasks without Zazriel and managed to fail each one of them. Zazriel had tried to cheer his friend up by lightly pushing on him and flashing that gold smile he had.

“We get our cases today, so try not to look to down Ophanim!”

Ophanim just shrugged and walked, as the two finally made it into the large outdoor area. They took the first two sets in the second row, closest to the left side. The ceremony began with the leader of the School, Pahadron. Pahadron had also been the one to chose the cases for each student after graduation.

“I am proud to present the guardian angel class of 2098. They will be given cases and will report to guardian duty no later than the year 2099. Failure to review cases and watch over their case study will be grounds for readmission into the school; with penalties applied. Let these words not worry your hearts, we shall move on to calling the names. Beginning with the golden angels, then move on to the silver angels, afterwards I will go on to the rest of the guardian angels who did not fall in the top, but did not fail either. Please do not clap until I have finished calling all names,” Pahadron stated and then went on to call the first couple of names.

Zazriel and Ophanim had been a part of the golden angels, with this certificate in hands they had picked up their case file. Ophanim’s was slightly small, while Zazriel’s had been bulky and thick. Zazriel looked at Ophanim, Zazriel tried not to look surprised and keep walking while they got back to their sets.

“It could always be a mistake,” Ophanim shrugged his shoulders.

Zazriel nodded and keep looking down at the bulky case file in his hands. He must be watching over some middle aged criminal, he thought to himself. The desire to begin looking over the case was starting to wear on Zazriel, however, he knew it was wrong to do it now. He watched as the last group of angels got called up, they all received case files that looked they contained a small book, with no more than 15 pages.

Once graduation was over Zazriel went back to his apartment to begin looking over his case file, later on he would head over to Ophanim’s party. Zazriel opened the front door and plopped down the massive folder, a small photo landed on the floor. It was a photo of a group of friends, everyone was smiling and had their arms wrapped around each other. Zazriel smiled, he knew this wasn't going to be so hard, little did he know of the secretes that sat in the folder. Zazriel had showered and changed into a pair of khakis and a button down t-shirt matched with a pair of loafers. He called Ophanim and walked over to attend the party. The party had lasted all night, Zazriel had managed to get himself up and head back home by 9:30 a.m. Once he got inside his apartment, Pahadron had been sitting on his couch and looking through the file.

“Pahadron! What are you doing here?” Zazriel jumped back.

Pahadron stood up, “My apologies. I had watched your expression at graduation and you seemed unhappy with your case.”

Zazriel wasn't sure what to say, he was not unhappy with his case, however, he was not sure what was awaiting him. He watched Pahadron close the case file in front of him and sat back down on the couch.

“Well?” Pahadron stated.

Zazriel shook from his staring, “I’m sorry. I haven't gotten a chance to look over the case yet.”

Pahadron had raised his light grey eyebrows, “yet you still managed to judge the case already?”

“No!? I mean, no, I have not judged the case file,” Zazriel could feel his cheeks warming up.

“Then I suppose you can manage the things that are in this case,” Pahadron said and stood back up. “As one of my best students, I know you can handle this case.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, now, I should be going as I have other students to check in on. Such as your friend Ophanim,” with that Pahadron had left.

Zazriel now sat with the case file in front of him, the contents trying to spill out of the sides. He was determined to go through it all tonight and learn what secrets it held. He opened the folder and there sat the once happy photo that now looked sad. The whole room had gained an ounce of sadness as he was transported into a flashback.

The air was cold and thick, three friends stood sitting on a bridge in New York. They had flashed a couple of photos. The trio began to walk back towards a little silver car, the one in a small red hoodie began to speak.

“I miss him,”

“Come on, really?” the one with blue eyes spoke

The one with a leather jacket began to speak, “not again Delilah.”

“Delilah?” Zazriel whispered and the flashback ended fading back to his apartment. He looked around the room and everything was still in place. He flopped back down on the couch and turned the photo over, reading the names, “Drew, Delilah, and Spencer.” Zazriel wasn't sure which person he would be guarding but so far he really did not like this Spencer kid. Spencer had a smile that was sharp as knives compared to the others.

As Zazriel put down the photo he picked up the next item in the pile, it's a death certificate. He dropped it to the floor and pushed back. As his vision started to get dark, the area was not cold at all. It was warm, like the temperature had been turned up higher than the sun, Then he heard the scream, a scream he would never forget. He gulped heavy and turned, he was now standing face to face to what they refer as case 7-11-92. He fell to his knees.

“Case 7-11-92,” Zazriel was going to be sick. He knew the case by heart because it was one he had been tested on. Case 7-11-92 had been the worst. He remember meeting the angel that had been working on it, he remembered the lecture they got, he remembered the case file, and he remembered being told exactly what never to do. He shivered as he came back to his senses and placed the death certificate next to the photo.

The next couple of items had been handwritten letters asking for some form of help, each one more heart wrenching than before. Finally he got down to the bottom of first pile. Zazriel need a break, no, he need more than a break. He called over his friend Ophanim. Ophanim was busy, he was working on his own case file trying to study it. Ophanim had been lucky and got a new born baby. A baby without scars, life lessons, and lesions around their soul. Zazriel decided to head out to an angel bar and get a star duster. He need someone thing to take the edge off and the sweet alcoholic drink was the only thing that could help his aching heart.

On his way to the angel bar he got a call from Pahadron. Pahadron wanted Zazriel to bring the case file over right away. Pahadron wanted to speak to him about the contents inside. Zazriel had no other choice as he was still under Pahadron and the angel city rules. He went back to his apartment to retrieve the folder. He placed all the items inside the folder and noticed another item. It was a name on the back side of the folder, the name read: case file 7-10-93, Spencer Atkinson. Of course, Zazriel gritted his teeth and thought to himself. He got on the train to head to the upper south side. Before he got to Pahadron’s home he felt something warm in the folder, like a new piece was being added. He looked inside even though it was against angel rules to open a case file in public. He noticed a note, he knew what it was. A suicide note.

“Fuck, kid come on.” Zazriel said and waited for himself to be brought to case 7-10-93 area. He was waiting and waiting, for the case folder to realize that he need to be where the note was written. Finally the case file had reacted and he was sent to the address. He stood behind the boy, he could hear the sounds of paper being scribbled on. He watched the boy for a moment, sure he didn't like him, but he had a job to do. He also was going to be late getting to Pahadron’s home, which he was going to pay hell for.

“Drew why did you have to leave us too?” Spencer pleaded.

Zazriel crossed his arms, “Come on Spencer, get up.”

Spencer turned around to see Zazriel sitting on his bed, he jumped back and clambered onto the door like a wild animal. Spencer had looked at the angel that stood before him. The man had a sweet smile and light brown eyes, his hair was dark black, he was wearing khakis and a button down t-shirt. Spencer on the other hand had on faded jeans, a band t-shirt, and no socks or shoes on. Spencer on the other hand had dark brown hair and green eyes which had been much lighters than the angels. He wanted to yell at the man, he wasn't sure who he was, was he a demon or angel? He didn't know and he did not want to find out.

“Relax, I’m Zazriel. I’m here to do my job.”

Spencer froze “Zazriel?”

“Yes! That is my name. Now quit playing around I’m going to be late.”

Spencer released his grip from the door knob and moved closer to the other man. Spencer still wasn't sure if he was an angel or not. “How did you get here?”

“Kid, I do not have time for your questions. If you are going to summon me with notes then I need to be here for a good reason. Now, tell me are you going to hurt yourself or not?”

Spencer bit his lip, “no, I wasn't planning on it.” Tears began to fall from Spencer's green eyes, making the red veins appear so much more prominent. “I just miss Drew and Delilah. I’m so alone,” Spencer shouted with tears streaming down his face.

“Hey, hey. Look don't cry kid,” Zazriel stated and pulled Spencer's hand leading him over to the bed. “Lets sit down and talk about it.”

“I- I thought you had somewhere to be?” Spencer hiccuped and sat down. Zazriels soft touch had calmed him down and he managed to wiped away some of the tears.

“Pahadron can wait. I have a job to do,” Zazriel sat down on the bed with Spencer. “Now tell me all about it.”

The two had talked for a long time, all the time Zazriel hoped that Pahadron had been watching over them. Spencer talked for hours until he started to fall asleep. Upon which Zazriel tucked Spencer into bed. Zazriel hated to admit it but his hatred for this kid grew in new ways and somehow he was okay with that. Finally he checked the time and realized that Pahadron was going to be pissed. Zazriel waved goodbye to Spencer and he left to get back to heaven. By the time he got back to heaven Zazriel was exhausted and just wanted to head home. He decided to go home to his apartment. Once he made it inside and opened the door to he saw Pahadron inside.

“You passed,” Pahadron smiled, “This case is no longer yours.”

[biofunmy]

What’s Inside Jeffrey Epstein’s Little Black Book?

Andrew Rosen, the founder of Theory and owner of numerous racehorses, said he didn’t know him and had never met him. Mr. Rosen couldn’t recall ever attending an event he hosted or crossing his path.

Charles Finch, the film producer, brand builder and bon vivant, didn’t know him, either. Vanessa von Bismarck, the glamorous founder of a namesake fashion PR company? She had no idea why her name came up. Nor did Joan Juliet Buck, the former editor of French Vogue.

“As far as I know, I never met Epstein,” Ms. Buck said. “I never went to any of those famous parties at the biggest house in New York City.”

That’s Jeffrey Epstein, of course. Even though their names were in his notorious little black book, along with those of known associates like Prince Andrew, Donald Trump and Alan Dershowitz, these individuals said they were not sure why they appeared. They weren’t, they said, friends, or even passing acquaintances.

A scattering of others who appeared in the book — a magazine executive, a literary agent, a fashion executive and a publicist — also said they had never met Mr. Epstein.

First discovered by the journalist Nick Bryant, Mr. Epstein’s little black book has resurfaced as part of the current investigation into the sex crimes Mr. Epstein, a 66-year-old financier, has been charged with. (Last week, a federal judge denied his request to await trial at his $56 million Upper East Side mansion.)

Alfredo Rodriguez, Mr. Epstein’s former house manager, attempted to sell the book; it was published in 2015 by Gawker, with the telephone numbers redacted.

Described in an F.B.I. affidavit in 2009 as “a small bound book,” the item contains the names of people who viewers theorized may have known Mr. Epstein socially. Being in the book suggested a fuzzy complicity: Might these people also have known, or had some sense, of his crimes?

A report by New York magazine about those who appear in Mr. Epstein’s book declares that the list creates a portrait of a man “deeply enmeshed in the highest social circles.” The names in the book, though, are as likely to be a map of aspirational connections, as well as actual ones.

Because according to Mr. Rodriguez’s statement in the affidavit, the book was compiled by employees of Mr. Epstein, not by Mr. Epstein himself. Those contacted for this article acknowledged having met Ghislaine Maxwell, Mr. Epstein’s former girlfriend and “lady of the house,” and posited perhaps that was how their names ended up in the book. (It is unclear from the affidavit whether Ms. Maxwell is one of the “employees.” Ms. Buck said that she had met Ms. Maxwell at a boutique opening but that “she never phoned me.”)

The Little Black Books of Men

Mr. Epstein’s book has become a symbol of the exclusive world of the very famous and very rich, and the secret life the financier lived.

That makes it the latest in a line of “little black books” that have played key roles in crime stories as far back as the mid-18th century, when Samuel Derrick conspired with Jack Harris, the “Pimp General of all England,” to create an annual guide to London’s prostitutes and their specialties. It ran hundreds of names long and was known as “Harris’s List of Covent-Garden Ladies.”

Ever since, the term “little black book” has come to represent something of a secret directory both in true crime tales and in the arts; a list passed along among insiders and conspirators; a source of illicit knowledge and a record of it that could be weaponized. The little black book has transcended mere notebook status to become a cultural trope, symbol and narrative device. (Also, on occasion, a gift item.)

The designation “black book” at one point referred to official records, most often the ledger of the British exchequer. It may have been borrowed for more prurient record keeping.

Hallie Rubenhold, the historian and author of the 2005 book “The Covent Garden Ladies,” said she thought that the proverbial book was a combination of two items popular with 18th-century gentlemen: the annual release of Harris’s list and the black leather-bound diaries that were available for purchase every year around Christmas.

“I suspect strongly that’s how the little black book evolved,” Ms. Rubenhold said. “It’s a conflation, I would think.”

About 20 years after Mr. Derrick and Mr. Harris formed their partnership, a catalog of conquests appeared in Mozart’s opera “Don Giovanni.” (A rumor persists that the composer was assisted in its composition by Giacomo Casanova.)

The “Catalogue Aria” recounts thousands of women with whom Giovanni has consorted, their names recorded in a “little book.” It is said to be fat; its color goes unmentioned. In the second act, Giovanni, having failed to repent after being warned time and time again, is dragged to hell.

The Little Black Books of Women

The trope persisted into the mid-20th century, making the transition, along with so much else, from an item of private intrigue to one of public fascination. It was helped in this transformation by the Chicagoan Hugh Hefner, a staple in his arsenal as he was building the Playboy empire. A little bit literary and a whole lot sleazy, it was the perfect fit for his burgeoning brand.

“There was little left unutilized in the creation of his persona,” said John Russick, the senior vice president of the Chicago History Museum, which owns one of Mr. Hefner’s black books from the early days of Playboy magazine.

“He used his suits, he used his women, he used his office space,” Mr. Russick said. “So there’s no reason to think the little black book wouldn’t have been used as a tool to establish himself as a ladies man, a man who had options and people he could call. Who could, at a moment’s notice, maybe have an arrangement made.”

The little black book as a potential cachepot of scandal continued to capture the public imagination thanks to the unmasking of three madams in the 1980s and ’90s: Sydney Biddle Barrows, known as the Mayflower Madam; Madam Alex, a Hollywood celebrity in her own right; and her protégée, Heidi Fleiss. Their clients and those clients’ predilections were said to be contained in their little black books (which, in Ms. Fleiss’s case, were revealed to be a series of red Gucci planners).

In 1992 Ms. Barrows said her book, an eight-inch-thick folder, was stolen. “I’m afraid someone’s now out there blackmailing these poor guys,” she was quoted in a brief article in The Chicago Tribune.

Along with the rest of its printed brethren, the little black book took a hit in the ’90s with the arrival of the internet. And not long after, toward the end of President Bill Clinton’s second term, the American public’s tolerance for the sexual escapades of figures like Mr. Hefner flagged.

Those dual phenomena help to explain the plot of the 2004 movie “Little Black Book,” in which a television producer decides to pry into the dating history of her boyfriend by looking at his PalmPilot.

The movie ends not with them together, but with the producer delivering a speech about the value of sharing the truth, and winning her dream job working for Diane Sawyer.

That film’s values (it was written by a woman, Melissa Carter) showed the little black book for what it was: a vestige of the age of the gentleman collector, a bygone fixture of male sexuality that was more about the number of women to whom one had access than the women themselves.

“In theory there is nothing wrong with a little black book,” Ms. Rubenhold said. “It’s just how you use it and how you treat the people who are inside that little black book.”

“That’s kind of toxic male sexuality in a nutshell,” she continued. “You are defined by your sexual prowess, yet that sexual prowess can get you in a lot of trouble,” Ms. Rubenhold said. “The little black book in many ways is kind of a manifestation of that.”

Elizabeth Paton contributed reporting.

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