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utterlyhopeful-fics · 3 years

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Midnight Magic

A/N: Wrote a smutty part 2 to accompany you lovely folks! 🥰🥰

MASTERLIST

Henry Cavill x Reader

Also, if I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 1855k

Warnings: MUCH PROMISED FLUFF, dirty talk, implied smut, foreplay, kissing, language, teasing

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Y/N wasn’t someone to demand attention but tonight was a different story entirely. Whether it be the holiday magic in the air or the sheer happiness exuding from her beaming smile, they’d never know for sure. She glazed into the fireplace awaiting the arrival of her midnight kiss to show up. The embers flickered uncontrollably creating a spellbinding illusion of comfort. The cerulean blue hue of her dress was majestically magnificent, custom designed to perfection leaving little to the imagination. Paired with a sexy high slit revealed the majority of her right leg; just enough access.

This New Year’s Eve Henry had the peculiar notion to get dressed up as if they were enjoying the evening out. Y/N almost died of happiness then and there seeing the childish reflection in her husband’s hypnotic orbs. 2020 was one helluva year and though it brought them closer than ever as a couple, Y/N wasn’t blind to the hardships occurring throughout the world.

His loins stirred excitedly as lust glazed over his features growing semi-hard. The only barrier holding them from going at it like teenagers. He licked his lips in anticipation eager to have his wife all to himself. No lavish parties or parades of people to entertain this year, just the lot of them, alone and horny. He continued admiring her from afar pouring two flutes of champagne for the pair.

“You look positively scrumptious this evening, Mrs. Cavill.”

Henry silently crept from behind sneaking up unsuspectingly slow. Goosebumps riddled her gorgeous skin rippling in masses. His breath ticked the tiny, delicate hair adorning her neck shooting a pleasurable surge to her limbs. Both endlessly love drunk on one another. His sensational touch alone kicked every sense into overdrive, heightened every emotion he emitted. Y/N reached back entangling her fingers with his newly deemed ‘quarantine curls’ she’d loved to tug on. Small bites traced down her neck leaving small marks in his wake of destruction.

“May I add how delectable you are in a tuxedo, Hen? My god, my poor ovaries must be working overtime.”

A salacious smirk broke out on his lips eyeing her lustfully.

“You haven’t the finest clue what I want to do to you right now, my love.”

Her hips grinded back on their on accord knocking the air from his lungs. All his remaining blood rushed to the tip of his cock as his belly stirred in playful chaos. They swayed back and forth to the melody playing in the background both reflecting on their last year together.

Henry lined himself up with the shell of her ear wrapping his bulky arm firmly around her waist drawing her as close as possible.

“I’m truly astounded this is our 12th year celebrating as a couple.”

Y/N smiled thinking back when they first met. The year was 2008, Henry was a newly promoted regular to a Showtime series called The Tudors. Y/N was a brilliant writer, the brains behind the complex operation. Henry considered her the beauty and brains; Y/N hated when he talked down about himself saying she’d never once doubted the man who became a wonderful husband and even better daddy.

One unparticular day he’d spotted her struggling to balance a pretty hefty pile of scripts and tumbled right into him. Luckily, his super-size and strength kicked in just in time catching the eye of the attractive stranger. In that moment, Henry knew there was something about this woman he craved to figure out. He was just the lucky bastard on the reciprocating end.

“And thank god your parents volunteered to take the kiddos for the evening. Some private adult time is just what the doctor ordered. We owe them BIG time.”

Y/N winked leading him to decipher the meaning behind her blanket statements. She stepped from his grasp breaking his hold on her. He whined at the loss causing Y/N to eye him curiously.

Oh, you little tease.

Henry’s frisky nature broke through lighting the atmosphere around them. Due to the ongoing pandemic and what not, Henry and Y/N found themselves in wintry London at their main hub of a home. Henry’s roots were deep-rooted and his plea so passionate as she agreed to move across the world with him. Their lives halted for the better allowing the family to spend more time than usual as a unit. Though initially hectic and overwhelming, they were secretly thankful for these little moments with their four children. It was a time they so dearly valued at their imaginative ages.

“Oh, I bet my pops could sense the sexual tension oozing off you, darling. You smell mouthwatering.”

“Hush! Besides it is completely natural to pursue a sexual relationship with my husband outside of our children. Gotta keep you coming back for more…”

“Oh sweets, you have no earthly idea how bad I want to fuck you every day of my existence. You are absolutely divine and somehow all mine.”

“I can’t take all the credit. Nobody’s ever made me cum the way you managed to figure out. You play me like a damn instrument.”

“With pleasure.”

“Ugh, you’re insatiable.”

“Oh, come on. Your sex drive is just as insane as mine. Admit it!”

Y/N bit the inside of her lip collecting her thoughts. Henry pried and teased her ribs forcing her to his whims.

“Fine, fine, you win! I’m a ravenous feign when it comes to you. You’d think having kids would cool my jets but then I see these gorgeous faces I birthed and it’s like I reset. Poof, just like that.”

“Well you’re a phenomenal Mum and quite the MILF too.”

Henry inhaled her perfumed scent taking a long sip of bubbly; anything to keep him from combusting.

“Let’s toast, love. We must.”

“My my, how time flies when you’re having fun.”

Her manicured fingers reached for the chilled glass looking up at Henry and his three-month-old beard. She rose her glass slightly higher in preparation for his speech. Her eyes gleamed with pride as she admired her husband.

“Thank you for loving me, Henry. Seriously, you changed my life in so many profound ways.”

The sap in him was beginning to show as his eyes watered with unshed tears; “My love, it is I who should be thanking for you the unending shower of love and affection. You are the beautiful mother of our four wonderous kids who are the absolute lights of my life because of you. You’re a woman worthy of many praises than my silly ramblings. Cheers to you and for another adventure of a year!”

She swatted his chest immediately shutting him up; “Don’t say that! I am just as equally lucky to have found someone who gets me for …me. It’s a wonderful feeling to have you by my side even if I did have to kiss a few frogs.”

“No doubt I the best possible selection.”

Y/N played along jesting back; “I wouldn’t go that far, maybe the easiest?”

Gob smacked Henry’s wit was rapid fire; “If memory serves, you were there too. And just as ravenous.”

“I was about to get nailed by an insanely hot British man. Can you blame me?”

“One look from you and I was a bloody puddle. I had to recite rugby players to keep from losing my shit.”

No matter life’s challenges the past years of their lives, their resolution to stay equals and lovers was stronger than ever. A sinful glow overcame Y/N as she stared directly up at him; “Cheers to you fucking me stupid then?”

“As you wish.”

She refused to glance away maintaining his smoldering gaze; her Y/C eyes screamed sex. His pupils dilated just as his heart speed up voraciously. Both subconsciously tilted their heads oppositely neither daring to move first, unwilling to yield. Y/N challenged his masculinity testing him. Many words could be used to describe Y/N but priss wasn’t one of them.

“Oi, you are a true keeper.”

Y/N checked the matching wrist watch completing her outfit; “T-minus 15 seconds until 2021 is here.”

Still unbreaking of her gaze, Henry stayed silent taking in the beauty of his wife. He could stare at her for the rest of his god given days and die a spectacularly happy man.

10,9,8

“Oh Hen, another marvelous journey with you. Can’t wait to see what 2021 has in store for us.”

7,6

She stared down at his inviting pout unable to look away nor did she truly want to.

“Maybe thinking about another baby?”

Her eyes bulged from her skull as shock illuminated from her pores.

“You’re joshing me?”

His lack of response was more than confirmation enough.

5,4

“There’s something so ridiculously sexy about you being pregnant. I always knew I wanted kids but with you, oh with you I want to have as many as humanly possible. Our very own football team.”

Confusion stamped her features at his terminology. Sometimes Henry forgot they were from different countries.

“Football as in soccer. You know the game with the checkered ba—”

Y/N cut him off; “Jeez baby, save your mansplaining. I’ve been on this side of the pond long enough to understand your oh so clever references.”

3,2

The pros and cons bounced around in her head, doubt never far behind but the mischievous joy coming off him was tantalizing; “Let’s do it.”

2,1

Cheers rang ecstatically from the television as fireworks commanded their attention but they only had eyes for one another. Henry closed the gap kissing her feverishly. He was forever seared into her brain ruined for all other men. Lost in the moment, Y/N barely had time to set her glass down untrusting of her own balance anymore. Henry followed shortly behind. Now with her newfound freedom, Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck locking him in place. His questioning tone was almost cause for concern before his façade shattered.

“Really? I do so enjoy seeing you round with my babe. So, fucking irresistible.”

Henry’s jacket was long removed strewn over the couch. That left him standing only in his tight button up and trousers. Y/N merely leaned back his direction bringing his attention towards the zipper aligning her spine. Henry chuckled undoing her dress too easily watching the zipper flair apart. He couldn’t resist admiring the flex of her muscles and how striking she was. Tugging the material over the curvy hips, Y/N noticed Henry was far too overdressed.

“Take off your clothes, now.”

“You bossin me round, babe?”

His muscular tush ignited in minimal pain as her hand connected with his ass whipping rather harshly. A small red welt appeared instantly. Henry stood shocked as Y/N’s smug smile decorated her face.

“You really shouldn’t push me. I don’t like my authority questioned.”

Henry’s mood shifted at her use of roleplay knowing he was in for a well and good night. Henry stripped removing his boxer briefs last. Y/N strutted towards her bedside dresser pulling out a pair of metal handcuffs. Dangling them in front of him, she grinned bashfully; “You’re going to sit your ass on that bed and I’m going to tie you up now. Got it?”

~~~~~~~~~

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ingu · 4 years

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you are so incredibly talented! thank you so much for writing one of my new fave TUA fics. for the ficlets, what about- 'Just promise me you’ll stay here' and/or 'just.. put down the very sharp knife'

Five didn’t know how he had let this happen.

He’d known, objectively, of course, that his siblings weren’t safe. That as long as they remained people out of time in 1963, the Commission would come after them. That much was a given from the moment the Swedes had killed Hazel. Five knew that they’d keep coming, that they wouldn’t give up, until Five took everyone back to 2019 and stopped the apocalypse for good.

He’d also known, as a matter of fact, that his siblings were not invincible. Sure, they were capable fighters who could take care of themselves in most situations, Reginald had trained them well enough, after all, to unleash them onto criminals when they were barely even teenagers. But despite their powers and advantages they were still human, they could get hurt, they could fail, they could die. They’d already lost Ben, after all, it’s not impossible that they could lose someone else.

It was a possibility. But that was all it was ever meant to be. None of Five siblings were actually supposed to die. He was supposed to take care of them this time around, he was supposed to fix things.

What was he going to tell the others?

“Five?”

It was like a yawning, empty chasm had opened up inside of Five, swallowing up anything that wasn’t terror and despair. The others were going to blame him for this, weren’t they? The Commission hadn’t gone after any of them until Five showed up. And now Klaus was dead because Five went and fucked up by making a bad deal that turned his entire family into priority targets. Of course the Handler was going to betray him, of course she was going to send more agents. Five was a loose end that she couldn’t leave untied. All of this was Five’s fault but Klaus was the one who’d paid the price. Klaus didn’t deserve this. They were never supposed to go after him.

“Hey... Five? Número cinco?”

Wait, Five was sure he’d killed everyone. He turned toward the voice, confused.

Five couldn’t quite understand what he was seeing.

Klaus was standing across the room, staring at Five with a look of wide-eyed uncertainty that looked almost like worry. His clothes were still soaked with his own blood, and it didn’t make sense that he was standing, and staring, and talking at Five like Five was some sort of cornered animal.

Klaus was dead.

“Klaus?” Five’s voice cracked on his brother’s name.

None of this made sense.

“Yep! That’s me alright!” Klaus said with forced merriment, punching the air stiffly. “Your favorite brother!”

Klaus glanced nervously at something in Five’s hand.

“What?” Five breathed, uncomprehending. He took a step toward Klaus.

Klaus immediately took a step back in alarm, his eyes growing even wider.

“Uh, Five?” Klaus said, holding out a hand. “Do you think you could…? Just... put down the very sharp knife?”

Instinctively, Five tightened his grip on his weapon. “I- But you died.”

“Nope, definitely not dead,” Klaus smiled widely, sweeping his arms out as if to show off how healthy he was.

“No, I saw-” Five swallowed, blinking as his eyes began to sting with tears. “I checked, I-”

How was this happening? Five had confirmed for himself that his brother had had no pulse. He had been too late, even rewinding time wasn’t enough to bring him back. Each second that Five had turned back the clock, desperately praying, hoping, as he stared - all Klaus had done was lie there in a pool of his own blood, staring expressionless at the ceiling. What sort of sick joke was it that the first time Five discovered he was capable of something like this, he couldn’t even use it to save someone he loved? Five had forced time to keep rewinding until his vision had gone black and his power had sputtered out, refusing to take him back any further.

“Five…?”

Then, there had only been rage, burning white hot through his veins as he launched himself at Klaus’ assailants and cut them down one by one. He dredged up reserves of energy he hadn’t even known he had, abusing his power to end the lives of the dozen armed soldiers in the most bloody and agonizing ways he knew. The combat knife had been so useful, from the moment he lifted it off of one of the men. It could cut cleanly through arteries and have them drowning in their own blood. It could cleave through muscle and tendon, leaving them crumpled on the floor, their limbs useless. A person could survive half a dozen hits if Five aimed well, before they eventually bled out from the trauma.

There had been so much blood, the air was still thick and heavy with it even now. It was smeared on Five’s face, and matted in his hair and clothes. Five wasn’t sure he could wash it all out, this time around.

Klaus was suddenly closer than he was before. Then, Five watched as Klaus almost tripped over a dead body, muttering a curse.

“Shit,” Five murmured, furiously blinking back tears as realization hit him. “I’m going insane. I’m finally losing it.”

“What?” Klaus looked up at him in surprise. “Five, please. It’s okay. I can’t die, alright?”

And that was such a stupid statement that Five could almost believe it was the real Klaus saying it instead of simply a hallucination in his head.

“I’ve died like a dozen times before and it’s never stuck.” Klaus explained, and then, his gaze snapped to the side and shifted into a glare. “Yes I know I could have said something earlier, okay? You are not being helpful right now.”

“What do you mean you’ve died before?” Five said, unable to believe his brain would come up with something as illogical as this.

“Look it’s… sort of a long story,” Klaus said, coming slowly toward him. Then, Klaus frowned. “Actually I guess it’s not that long. I’ve died before, alright? Overdose, hitting my head… I think I froze to death one winter, actually, and that wasn’t fun. It never sticks. I’ve talked to God and she has this whole vendetta against me. Don’t ask me why.”

“I found your body in the apocalypse, I buried you.” Five said in disbelief. Klaus was lying. He had died before. Five had seen it. When he was thirteen years’ old he’d dragged his brother’s body across the city in his cart, to the park where they used to all sneak away to on summer nights, where they used to play tag and frisbee together beneath the moonlight. He had dug Klaus’ grave and buried him himself.

“Okay, that-” Klaus walked even closer, awkwardly stepping over yet another body. “I can’t explain that. Maybe the apocalypse was finally my time, and God decided I was allowed to stay, but look, I’m fine now, alright?”

This was such a stupid conversation Five couldn’t imagine he was actually having it with himself. This couldn’t… really be Klaus, could it?

Klaus took another step, and he was in front of Five now. Five stared at him, uncertain and more than a little terrified.

Then, Klaus gingerly reached out, and Five looked down as Klaus put his hand on Five's wrist, nudging him to lower the knife.

Five started, inhaling sharply as he felt pressure against his skin. He stared down at the point of contact in awe. Klaus’ hand was cold. It was real. It was real?

When Five did’t resist him, Klaus started to gently pry Five’s fingers from the knife, ignoring the sticky redness of drying blood. As Five let go, Klaus carefully tugged the knife from Five’s hand.

Then, he threw the weapon to the side, and the blade landed with a clatter on the floor.

Five stared at where it landed, in shock.

Hallucinations couldn’t do that.

“Hey, I’m fine, alright?” Klaus said, looking down at Five with a terrifyingly soft look on his face.

As though to prove it to Five, Klaus pulled on Five’s hand and pressed Five’s palm to his chest, right above his heart, and covered Five’s hand with his.

Five stared at his hand helplessly, sensing the faint thump of Klaus’ heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of Klaus’ chest with each breath he took. There was something soothing in the way Klaus’ hand seemed to be warming against Five’s own.

“Still alive, still breathing.” Klaus said softly.

Five stared, silent and still, for what felt like a full minute, as his mind tried to make sense of what was in front of him. It was like he was fumbling to piece together a puzzle in the pitch dark. He knew the pieces fit, but he didn’t quite know how. Was it possible that Klaus had somehow just come back from the dead? It went against everything Five knew about human physiology, everything Five had ever witnessed himself (Klaus, dead, three times over). Five knew that the Klaus he’d buried in the apocalypse had unquestionably been a corpse.

Yet Klaus was here, alive and whole, right in front of him.

It was hard to deny the thump of Klaus’ heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest, or the warmth against Five’s skin.

“Klaus,” Five breathed, lifting his gaze. Klaus' hazel eyes widened as their eyes met, and a soft, relieved smile spread across his face.

They were born with extraordinary powers, after all, Five thought. Was this perhaps one of Klaus’? His connection with the dead somehow exempted him from dying, in certain conditions?

“C’mere,” Klaus said, and then pulled Five into a hug.

Five’s eyes widened as Klaus wrapped his arms around him, and suddenly, Klaus’ warmth was overpowering. He wasn’t the cold, stiff corpse Five had found only minutes ago. His beating heart, the rhythm of his breathing, had restored warmth to him that had always belonged. The stench of blood was even stronger like this, but Five was sort of used to it now.

Five slowly let out a breath as the reality of the situation washed over him. Klaus was alive. Five had failed him but Klaus was still alive despite it all. Everything was, will be, fine.

It was like taking his first breath after hours trapped underwater.

“Ta-da.” Klaus said, squeezing Five a bit too tight. “I’m immortal.”

Needing confirmation, Five pulled away from the hug and started tugging at Klaus’ shirt. Klaus immediately started fighting him, wriggling and trying to tug Five hands away.

“Oh hey, no, that’s weird, Five- Five! We’re brothers and you’re much too young-”

Five won the battle in the end, and lifted Klaus’ shirt as Klaus stood awkwardly in front of him, arms half raised to let Five do what he wanted. Despite all the blood, there was only an expanse of smooth skin. Five stared in amazement. Klaus had no injuries. Not even any scars.

Five dropped his hands, and staggered backward with a sigh of relief.

Klaus tugged at his shirt in an attempt to get more comfortable. There was no salvaging either of their outfits, considering how sticky and soaked they were. Suddenly, Five desperately wanted a shower.

“Why didn’t you fucking say anything?” Five said, raising a hand to his temples as anger and frustration surged within him. “I thought you were dead, Klaus!”

“Well, I was dead,” Klaus said, shrugging. “It just doesn’t like to stick, you know? Give me a few minutes and I’m usually good as new.”

“I can’t believe this,” Five said. The anger faded as quickly as it came, replaced instead by a bone-deep weariness. “Do you have any idea what you just put me through?”

“I mean…” Klaus looked around them, looking half impressed, half disgusted. “I think I have some idea? And hey, it’s not like I was trying to get myself killed, alright?”

“With the way you like to run your mouth, sometimes I wonder.” Five said tiredly. There was no bite to his words.

Exhaustion grew inside of Five, weighing down his limbs and clouding his thoughts, reminding Five he had pushed himself too far and overused his powers earlier. With a sigh, he started heading for the exit, wondering how they were going to ever make it back to the apartment without being stopped for looking like walking crime scenes.

“Well okay, I can admit that the not staying dead thing does soften the ol’ survival instinct just a bit,” Klaus said as he trailed after him. “I also just get so bored, you know? None of them would talk to me.”

“Klaus?” Five said, careful not to slip on the blood. “Not another word.”

“Or what?” Klaus laughed. “Are you going to kill me? Oooh! That’s terrifying.”

Five sighed. Now that he knew Klaus would survive it, one of these days he just might.

#thank you so much! i'm glad you enjoyed the fic!#i hope you like this one too #replies #f: the umbrella academy #mine: fic #m: fic #Anonymous

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glitterdreamsz · 4 years

Text

A Penny For Your Thoughts (part 6)

Roger Taylor x Reader

Summary: Reader and Roger have been a couple since they were sixteen. But what would happen to their relationship now that Roger’s dream of being a rock star is becoming reality? (whole series here)

A/N: I’m fucking back! Did you miss me? (let’s all thank the quarantine that gave me the possibility of going back to write this chapter. I hope you will like it and don’t be afraid of letting me know what you think! Thank you for sticking up with me. Also i’ve decided to switch this fic from BoRhap!roger to the real roger cause i find myself more willing to write for him. But, of course, you can imagine him in any way you prefer him.

Words count: 2,9+k

Warnings :english isn’t my first language so grammar errors, and SMUT (18+)

10th October 1974

“Okay” Roger panted laying the box on the floor “That was the last box.” He put his hands on his hips and took a look at the empty living room that was almost twice bigger than your old one. “I guess that’s it then.” You smiled widely at him “We finally moved into our new flat” you wrapped your arms around Roger’s waist and your hands wandered on his naked torso “It’s October, you shouldn’t go around with your shirt completely open.” You mumbled as your lips were pressed against his back leaving some tender kisses. “I’ve been carrying boxes and furniture for a whole hour, I’m hot even though it’s October.” He argued back, taking your hand and jokingly biting the tips of your fingers. “You’re sweaty and stinky even though it’s October” you chuckled looking up at him and Roger immediately turned around with a smirk on his face. “I guess that it’s time to try our new shower.” “Our new big shower.” You added smiling and already walking to the bathroom. “Who told you you were invited too?” Roger asked following you. But you didn’t argue back and just poked your tongue out at him while starting to undress yourself.

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

24th October 1974 “And when I told him that I was quitting my job he was so surprised” you explained to Roger while clearing the table “As if it wasn’t clear enough that I hated working for him.” The drummer chuckled softly shaking his head “Did you tell him that now you’ll be Queen’s photographer?” He asked while putting the dishes in the sink. “Hmh” you nodded as you made Roger move away and you started to wash the tableware. “And his response was -you?- as if I wasn’t good enough” you scoffed and gave a wet glass to Roger who started drying it “That asshole” you kept talking “Well, I bet he will change his mind soon. I mean look at me now. I live in a fucking big apartment in central London, soon I’ll be touring the world with my boyfriend and I’ll be the photographer of his band that will surely become the most famous band in the history of rock. What else should happen?” There was silence then, out of nowhere, Roger said it. “Marry me.” You turned around laughing softly, thinking that it was another joke of his. But in front of you there was Roger, serious as ever, and he was looking at you waiting for an answer. “What?” you managed to ask, and suddenly forgot how to breathe. “Marry me (Y/N)” “Roger” it came out almost as a whisper “We…we always talked about how we both didn’t want to get married, how we thought it was just a stupid sign on a stupid paper. That we didn’t need it, that we were happy just like that.” “I know I know everything we said but those were just things we said as teenagers coming out of broken families. We both were afraid of marriage because we saw what it did to our parents. But I’m not afraid anymore, I know I want you and I’ve known it for a long time.” his eyes were watery just like yours, his hands were on your cheeks making you look at him as he was talking “We don’t have to prove anything to anybody. We don’t need a big ceremony. Let’s just get married today, let’s go to the city hall, we’ll have the guys as witnesses and then we can go get drunk at a pub. I just want to spend the rest of my life calling you my wife.” “Yes” you nodded, wiping away the tears that were running down your face. “Yes?” Roger was as surprised as you were with that answer, he thought that he would have had to argue more, that you would have told him to wait. But he was right, you were just afraid of marriage because of your mom. But then you found Roger, and you knew that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. No one else could ever compare to the love of your life. So why not do that madness with him? “Yes” you confirmed once again and to make it even more clear you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, with all the love you had in your body “I will marry you today Roger Meddows Taylor.” “I…I just don’t have an engagement ring” he said, almost embarrassed to you. “Who gives a damn about engagement rings.” You chuckled reassuring him “Now go call the guys”

*****

“You guys are completely out of your minds” Freddie stormed inside your apartment gesticulating “You can’t call me and tell me that you’re getting married with such a short notification. It takes time to make the perfect outfit.” “Sorry Freddie” you giggled “The next time we’ll get married you’ll know it with more notice” “That’s not funny” the singer mumbled “Now, to the most important thing. Where’s your dress?” “Actually, I was thinking about wearing a white blouse and some trousers or a skirt, something easy.” “Are you insane? You are the bride, you can’t go dressed like that. Come on, let’s go.” He said taking your hand and pulling you towards the door. “Where are you taking me?” “To buy you a decent dress” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing. “But I want something simple.” “Fine then we’ll go to biba. Mary will help us.” He was already at the door but you stopped him. You couldn’t leave the house without seeing Roger first. You walked to your bedroom where you knew he would be with Brian and John. “I’m going out with Fred, he wants to buy a dress for me.” You said as you peeked your head on the bedroom door. Rog was talking with his mates while buttoning up the shirt he would be later wearing. “Oh.. ok” he said almost nervously “I thought we would go there together but I guess we’d meet there.” “Hmh” you nodded smiling “I’ll see you at the altar” “I’ll see you at the altar” he repeated and quickly pecked your lips “Now go before the whole building will hear Freddie’s screams.

********

“Do you think we’re doing a stupid thing?” You asked Freddie while flattening the hem of your dress with your hands. “Well, usually people don’t decide to get married all of a sudden and tie the knot the same day.” He answered chuckling “But it’s you and Roger, you are not ordinary and you are made to be together for life so why not?” he shrugged “Do you think you’re doing a stupid thing?” he asked back. You shrugged “Am I afraid? Yes, my hands are fucking sweaty and my heart is beating as fast as ever. Did we take this decision too fast? Yes. But I know that in the other room there’s the love of my life, we’ve been together for nine years and I know that marrying him is the right decision.” “So don’t make him wait.” Freddie pecked your cheek and then walked to his mates in the other room, you took a deep breath and once you opened the door you saw him. Roger immediately turned around facing you, a big smile on his face as you walked toward him “You look amazing, you’re so gorgeous” he whispered as he took your hand and kissed it. “I love your jacket” you smiled looking at his white jacket with birds printed on it “And you’re handsome” “Do you have the rings?” the man in front of you asked “No” “Yes” you and Roger answered in unison. “Yes?” you whispered looking at Roger. “You weren’t the only one who went shopping before coming here” He smiled taking two gold wedding bands. “Hope you like them.” “They’re perfect” you smiled squeezing his hand that never left yours since the beginning of the ceremony. “Will you, Roger Meddows Taylor, take (Y/N) as your wife?” “I do” Roger said with watery eyes as he slid the ring on your finger. “And will you, (Y/N), take Roger Meddows Taylor as your husband?” “I do” your eyes didn’t leave Roger’s gaze as you put the ring on his finger and then held his hand tight. The rings touched, a new sensation, a new feeling that you already loved. “I now pronounce you husband and wife” Roger wasted no time in cupping your cheeks and kissing you, leaving you out of your breath as you wrapped your arms around his waist and held him close to you. As background you could hear Fred, Bri and Deaky, with their respective wives, whistling and clapping their hands making you smile widely against your husband’s lips.

******* “I may now introduce you the newly Mr. and Mrs. Taylor” Freddie screamed as he walked into the pub. “Fred, keep it quiet” Roger told his friend as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “I don’t want to draw any attention on us.” The drummer wanted to spend the best day of his life signing autographs or taking pictures with girls who were too touchy. “Sorry if I’m happy that my best friends just got married.” “God, it sounds so weird. Roger and (Y/N) just got married.” Brian said while walking toward the counter. “I actually love how it sounds” You told looking at Roger who looked back at you smiling and kissed you softly. “Okay, too much sugar for today, let’s drink.” John joked sitting on a stool. “I want to propose a toast” Roger announced lifting his beer bottle. “To my wife” his arm was around your waist and his blue eyes never left yours. “I knew you were the one from the first time I met you and you had that Who vinyl on your bike basket. We’ve been together for nine years but they’re not enough for me, I want the rest of my life with you. We’ve had our ups and our downs but we never let them break us. You know me like no one else does, you’ve always been my rock and you have always believed in me when the rest of the World didn’t. And I don’t need the whole World to believe in me or to love me, I only need one person to love me, and that person is you. To my beautiful wife (Y/N)” Everyone cheered clicking their glasses and you had tears streaming down your cheeks as you cuddled to your husband “I love you Roger, I always had and I always will”

****

“Wait” Roger said as you opened your flat door “The bride can’t walk inside the house by herself” and saying so he picked you up in his arms making you life. “You, Roger Taylor, are completely crazy.” “Crazy about you” “So cheesy” you wrinkled your nose and pecked his lips “But you’re excused since we just got married.” “Right answer” he smiled while walking towards your bedroom. “Where is my husband taking me?” you joked already knowing his intention, which were the same as yours. “I bet you already know where we’re going” he said as he put you back on your feet once you got in your room and then whispered in your ear “I’ll make you lose your innocence tonight” “I’m sorry to inform you that I already lost it to a rock star” you whispered back grinning. “Did you?” he started leaving kisses down your neck “Is him in a famous band?” You nodded running a hand through his hair “He’s in Queen” “Is he John Deacon?” You both laughed at his question. “Can you please help me out of this dress instead of talking about your bandmates as we’re about to have sex?” “Your wish is my command” Roger joked and then the atmosphere got serious all of a sudden. You could feel his fingers unzipping your dress till your lower back and his lips left kisses all along your spine any time a piece of your bare back was shown. “You weren’t wearing a bra underneath your dress?” he asked as he pulled down one of your straps. “Such a naughty bride” he smirked pulling down also the other one revealing your bare breast. He lowered down, his lips on your nipple and your hands through his hair. Even though at the beginning you wanted it to take it slow, now you couldn’t wait anymore and you started to undress Roger. Your naked bodies moved together toward the bed and you pulled him down with you on the mattress. Just as if he could read your mind your husband asked you “How turned on are you?” “Very much” you replied as you cupped his cheeks and kissed him. “So no fore-” “Yes, let’s just go straight to it” you cut him off. “Okay, we can do it later. I mean, I bet there will be more rounds tonight.” You chuckled nodding “Yeah, there will surely be more rounds.” “Good” he smiled and just wanted to hold him tight to you cause now that you had him over you, now that those blue eyes were lost in yours, you could feel that your heart could burst for how much you loved him. And that’s what you did that night, you made love to each other. There was no lust in your actions. Roger took his time and moved his hips slowly, feeling every inch of you taking him so well “God, (Y/N) you feel so good” he cried out. His forehead was hidden in the crook of your neck as his fingers were intertwined with yours. Then his hands were wandering all over your body, he wanted to feel you, feel your skin under his hands, his lips on your torso wanting to savour you. And you were completely lost in full bliss, feeling loved and wanted by the man you adored. “Let me be on top” you managed to say. Roger didn’t say anything, too lost in you to be able to speak, and helped you switch position. “Sit up, I want to feel you close.” You instructed him. That was your favourite position, because like that you could have him closer to you, his skin on yours, your chest pressed against his. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply before starting to move your hips on his shaft, taking him again in you “I love you so much Roger” you moaned against his lips. The room was filled with your praises and the sound of your skin colliding together. “L-love, I-I need to go faster” Roger mumble “w-we have to switch” You nodded laying on your back and opening your legs for him. Rog held himself on the headboard with his hand as he slid one more time inside you. He didn’t waste any time and immediately moved his hips quickly and firmly. “God Roger” you moaned loud. By his cries you could tell that he was close so were you , you squeezed your walls against him and that made him lose all his strength making cum moaning your name. Your husband collapsed on you, still moving his hips to help you reach your high and his fingers run down your body drawing circles on your clid. “I’m close” you cried. “Come for me love” and as if those words were a spell for you, you reached your high moaning and holding close to Roger. Your naked bodies were tangled under the covers, your head laid on your Roger’s chest. You were playing with his hand as your fingertip traced his wedding ring. “A penny for your thoughts?” he asked, kissing your head tenderly. You chuckled looking up at him “You used to say that when we were still teenagers” a smile formed on your face at the memory “I found a new meaning for Penny, A penny for your thoughts, cause you’re all I think about.” “You still didn’t tell me what you were thinking of” Roger said as his hand ran up and down your spine, caressing your back. “I never thought that we would be here, as a married couple. But I don’t regret it at all. I love you Roger, more than anyone else in the World. And it doesn’t matter all the difficulties we will find down the road. I will be by your side, I will always choose you.” Roger smiled fondly and you could feel his heart beating fast against your ear. “You know what Bukowski says?” he asked, putting a lock of hair behind your ear. “Is this an intellectual moment?” you chuckled softly. “I’m trying to be romantic here, telling you what I feel and you are mocking me?” he pretended to be offended. “Sorry, I didn’t want to ruin the moment” you kissed him softly and encouraged him to go on.“ “Well, he always talks about how men are always late and how they can’t keep promises.” You nodded listening to him and wondering what was his point of those words. “(Y/N), I can’t assure you that I’ll always be on time, but I promise you that even if late, I’ll always be here for you.” *****

reader’s wedding outfit:

and roger’s iconic wedding outfit

taglist:

@heda-mikaelson @deakyspuff @espresso-and-a-cig @everybodyplaythegame @oxuminaa @heartsforhoran @thewinchesterchronicles @hissom1933 @johnricharddeacon @allornone @lokilaufcvson @langdonzvoid @vanitysfairr @mcrmarvelloki @lady1505 @belenportal @rogxrtaylxr @queenrrogertaylor @spideyyypeter @the-galaxy-witch @rockyroadthepastryarchy @borhapqueen92 @jennyggggrrr @queen-crue @deaconsposts

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itawonka-creates · 5 years

Text

Seabourne Burnouts: Part 8 - Backstay

A Maribat! on Deck AU

Bless @shewhoridesonrainbows for helping with the chapter name!

Start [Here] [Part 7] [Part 9]

“Why do you think it’s the Waynes?” Marinette brought her classmates back to her room to set up the living room game room combo in her suite. The group was moving things out of the way of the flat-screen TV to prepare for movies and games for the night ahead of them.

“You can’t tell me you aren’t suspicious of them.” Damian looked around his room for pajamas that would be approved by his brothers. He shook his head and mumbled, “Why am I even going?”

Dick looked up from Damian’s dresser and threw him a green and black pair of pajama pants, shrugging, “Not really, Damian.”

“Why not?!” Alya sounded exasperated as she pushed a loveseat out of the way. “Oh my god, why are there so many things in here?” Chloe snickered at the girl, earning her a playful glare.

“Maybe because we don’t have any proof.” Tim looked a very annoyed Damian and shook his head, “Too plain.” Damian growled and went back to the bathroom to change.

Alya whined, “There are too many things pointing to that conclusion, though!” Nino rolled his eyes and helped her move a coffee table. “Thanks.”

“Circumstances. That’s all it is.” Dick handed Damian a plain blue t-shirt, “Why are you so hard to dress?”

Damian glared at Dick, “I am not wearing Nightwing Blue to this stupid sleepover, Grayson.” He threw the t-shirt back and huffed, “That doesn’t mean she isn’t Ladybug. And it doesn’t mean the rest of her friends aren’t a part of it too.”

“Okay, sure. Tim wasn’t around, that makes him a suspect. A lot of people weren’t in that room, does that make them suspects too?” Marinette placed her hands on her hips and looked around the room, “Why are we working so hard on this again?”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t start our investigation with her.” Tim scrolled through Marinette’s Instagram, “Remember to bring up her fashion designs. Get big brownie points.” Damian yanked the phone out of Tim’s hands, “Hey!”

“Listen to yourself, this is a theory!” Chloe wiped her forehead with her and frowned, “If I sweat any more, I’m going to consider this labor and require payment.”

Alya rolled her eyes and brought over some blankets to cover the floor and create some forts, “I have to start somewhere.”

Damian groaned, “No, no you don’t. You don’t have to do anything. At least not tonight. After tonight, give me updates from your investigation.” He put on a dark red shirt and put back on the green sweats, “Now, I’m just giving myself away aren’t I?”

Dick looked him over and smiled, “You look good in those colors though. Stay like that.” Dick walked over and messed around with Damian’s hair, much to his dismay. “Come on, I have to do it.”

“No, you don’t.” Nino walked over and wrapped his arms around his girlfriend, “You just want to.” He sighed, “Why do you care so much anyways? Like, you’ve been talking about this since Batman showed up on the cameras.”

“I care because we’re the underlings of the world’s greatest detective and I want answers.” Damian looked through his drawers and pulled out a red hoodie.

“Oh yeah, ruin thirty minutes of good work with a hoodie.” Dick sighed and shook his head, “You don’t have to be involved in every case, you know?”

“I can’t just leave it though!” Alya felt her patience being tested and walked over to Marinette, “You support me, right?”

Marinette rolled her eyes and smiled, “Of course I do, but I’m not comfortable with you accusing my friends of hiding big secrets like that.”

“They need to hide it though.” Jason sat on Damian’s bed and frowned, “They’re kids. From what I can tell they don’t have a mentor or leader besides her. We have a seasoned Batman, they have no one.”

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose, “That’s a lot of responsibility to just throw on them.”

Adrien scoffed, “You say that as if Bruce Wayne doesn’t have the resources to help be Batman.” After seeing what Damian and Jason in action during the attack, he’s been more than a bit suspicious. Adrien shrugged and walked next to Alya, “I don’t know if you’re right, but I do know something’s up with them. I’m in.”

“Yeah you are!” The two fist bump and Alya held Adrien’s arm up, “Behold peasants! My champion!”

Nino rolled his eyes and kissed Alya’s cheek, “Yeah, sure. Your champion is a kid who was homeschooled all his life with just enough social skill to keep his head above water in public school.” Adrien snorted at the jab and went back to work. Nino thought for a moment, “That must be some standard to hold yourself to, though. I mean, I know the dude has money, but Gotham isn’t exactly the best city. To promise to protect a city like Gotham practically on your own like that must be hard.”

“She’s not alone though, Ladybug has Cat Noir though.” Jason sat back down on the bed and looked at the clock on the bedside desk, “Still, it means she was thirteen when she took up her secret identity. Two kids, no mentor, no prior experience, that’s insane. You can’t expect two kids to be held to that kind of standard.”

“It helps if he set the standard.” Marinette thought back to when she and Adrien first got the Miraculous. They didn’t set their standard, they just worked hard to meet it. “Remember, Bruce had it hard. Harder than most of us.” The room fell silent as they dedicated the moment to Bruce’s parents. Marinette wiped her watering eyes and shook her head, “I need some air. Everything looks fine, you guys should get ready too.”

“You want one of us to come with you?”

Damian looked back at Dick from the room’s entrance and shook his head, “No, I just want to think about this. I do believe she’s Ladybug. If we’re right, then we should be ashamed of ourselves for not involving ourselves sooner. We’ve had training. We’ve had guidance. They got a ring and some earrings. That’s it.” He sighed, “It just upsets me to think she went through all of this, learning as she went. She isn’t like Bruce. Bruce chose that life for himself, he had resources, and he had Alfred. What does she have? A family that probably doesn’t know because what normal family would let their thirteen-year-old daughter fight a magical terrorist. A partner who was just as much an amateur as she was and by the looks of it they don’t know each other’s identities so they can’t support each other out of the mask. And lastly, her wits. Her mind is her greatest asset. The entirety of Paris is dependent on the mind of a teenager.” Damian gripped the door frame, getting more upset as he thought about the situation she’s in, “While I have faith in her ability, Paris is still damned and she’s going to break from the pressure.”

Marinette sighed as she smiled at her friends in a weak attempt to reassure them, “I just don’t like thinking that he went through all that and still became a superhero. It’s too much.” She thought about her own situation and wondered if she was in any position to feel the way she does when there are voluntary superheroes in worse cities than Paris. She knows she shouldn’t compare herself, but she can’t help it when Alya tells her more and more about Gotham’s great bat. She left the group and wandered around the boat, heading back upstairs to the captain’s den. Marinette hoped to see him, or at the very least explore some more and let herself just think. Marinette bumped into someone as she reached the stairway up to the captain’s den, “Oh I’m sorry-”

“Excuse me- Marinette?” She looked up and met a familiar face, “What are you doing here?”

Marinette shrugged, “I wanted to go back to the den and maybe talk to Captain Staller.”

Damian nodded and the two continued moving, “I like that room too. It’s the one place I can gather my thoughts on this ship.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Mainly? You.” Marinette stared at him wide-eyed and he realized he needed to backtrack, “Referring to dinner.”

Marinette’s face couldn’t get redder, “Oh! Oh, that! Right!” She patted her cheeks in a sad attempt to make the redness go down, “Still think I’m a hero, huh?”

“I’m betting Alya still thinks I’m the son of Batman too?” Marinette sighed, giving him all the confirmation he needed. “Either way, she won’t find anything on Father. Trust me, even Lois Lane barked up that tree.”

“Lois Lane?”

“A famous reporter in America.” Marinette nodded and he hummed, “Doesn’t mean she’s not going to try though.”

“Yeah, she’s determined.”

“So are my brothers.” Damian stopped in front of the door and knocked three times, “Let’s see if we can find the captain.”

Marinette and Damian waited a few moments before the captain opened the door. Seeing Marinette made him smile, “I was wondering when you’d come back.”

She grinned, “Sorry for the wait.” She hugged the man and walked inside, Damian trailing behind her. She walked around the room, “Did you get more?”

The captain walked over to the bar with Damian and Damian poured him a drink. Damian learned what the man’s favorite drink was and would make it for the captain whenever both were in the den as a show of gratitude for allowing him access. The captain took a sip and nodded, “You’re getting better at this.” Damian shrugged and the captain turned back to Marinette, “Get more what?”

“Ships.” She carefully picked one up and rubbed some dust off of it, “Or maybe I just didn’t notice these before.”

Captain Staller put down his drink and walked over Marinette, “That one is my favorite. The oldest in my collection and it was given to me by my niece when she was younger.”

Marinette tensed, “Should I put this back?”

“No! No.” He leaned over her shoulder and pointed at the ship’s side, “S.S. A. Staller. Anne was always cheeky like that.” Marinette smiled at the small detail, completely unaware of the boy watching her from the bar. “She gave this to me when she was thirteen. She told me she spent weeks on it and refused to let anyone forget that.”

“She sounded fun.”

“She was.” He took the bottle from her hand, putting it back in its place on the shelf and grabbing another one. “This is the last one she made me.”

Marinette took the bottle from Captain Staller and took in many details, “This material is different. Better quality.”

“Good eye. What else?”

Marinette turned the bottle carefully, “These sails don’t look like the others. This looks custom.”

“Good. Good. Anything else?” Marinette hummed as she trained her eyes on the smaller details before the captain interrupted her, “Look at the bigger picture, girl.”

She blinked, realizing she was practically holding the bottle to her eye trying to find the little secrets possibly hidden in the model. She looked up at Staller and then noticed Damian snickering. She stuck her tongue out at him and looked back at the bottle, “Oh, it has a different name. S.S. A. Dereon.”

He nodded, “She got married and sent me this as a gift before her honeymoon.” He pointed at the sails, “The sails are made from pieces of her wedding dress.”

Marinette’s eyes lit up and she turned her attention back to the sails, “That’s so sweet.”

The captain nodded before taking the ship and carefully putting it back. He led her back to the bar where Damian already had a sparkling water waiting for her as she sat down, “She was. She was the bottle to my ship.”

Marinette couldn’t help but be confused, “How so?”

The man sighed and took a swig of his drink, “When you throw one of those ships into the sea, what do you think happens?” Marinette shook her head and he smiled wistfully, “The bottle protects the boat from the sea. The bottle will keep the boat intact, providing a safe place for the boat from the chaos from the outside world.”

Marinette watched him carefully and before she could stop and think about her words she asked, “What if the bottle breaks?” The captain set down his glass and the noise sounded loud despite him not using much force, making the two teens tense and bringing Damian’s attention back to the conversation from behind the bar.

Captain Staller thought for a moment, “The bottle may break, that’s right. Without the bottle, the ship is left to its own devices against the raging waters of the sea.” He thought a little more before nodding, “Yes. The ship is left to survive. Sometimes when the bottle breaks, the boat finds itself in a terrible current or storm. Sometimes, those ships are lucky enough to find themselves in calmer waters with gentle waves. Most don’t though.” He took one more drink from the glass before handing it to Damian empty. Damian took the glass from the man’s hands and listened, “All boats are made differently. Some have better quality material while others are made cheap. Some are bigger. Some are made to be better. The boats all have different qualities, but not all will float. Sometimes the better ships on calm waters find themselves with a breach and slowly sink. Sometimes you’ll see a tiny little ship in the middle of a storm fighting to stay afloat. A lot of times, those boats are underwater when the bottle breaks, forcing them to struggle right off the bat.”

Captain Staller sighed, “Not all boats make it. Many are victims of the chaotic world without their bottles, but there are also many who continue to sail on. Despite the breaches, despite the flooding, despite possibly being submerged at some point those ships who have had the most damage to them and still stay above water are to be celebrated for their resiliency. The sea fights to claim as many ships as possible, and someday every ship will have its final journey, but that doesn’t mean those ships should stop trying. Even if their bottle breaks, either by accident or by someone’s hand, ships are made to sail the waters no matter how aggressive the waves are. Will they all make it? No. Will the ones that do be constantly tested by the sea? Absolutely. Will those ships ever stop? Eventually, but eventually is a long way away from today. Today they sail and continue fighting, for the bottle that was broken and to prove to the world that, despite everything, they can still continue.”

The two teens were quiet as they processed the captain’s words. Each wondering if they were in the process of sinking and wondered what it would take to keep from being submerged. Damian was the one to break the silence, “What about you?” The captain turned to him and he repeated the question, “What about you? You said Anne was your bottle. Are you still sailing?”

The captain thought for a moment before looking at Marinette and smiling, “There are ships fortunate enough to find a kind spirit to repair a few parts to help them stay afloat.” He ruffled Marinette’s loose hair and chuckled, “You send out the same energy Anne did. That definitely helps.”

Marinette smiled, “I’m sorry I’m not Anne.”

“You’re you, that’s all that matters.” He looked between the two teens, “You both lost your bottles.” The two teens tensed and looked startled, but he just waved his hand, “It happens. I lost my bottle too, but you two are faring much better than this old ship.”

Marinette patted the captain’s shoulder, “Don’t say that.”

“You are.” He straightened out his back and, as if to prove his point, his back cracked. “You see, this ship creaks it’s so old.” Marinette giggled and Damian bit his inner cheek to keep from smiling, “It’s okay though. I think both of you hold qualities to repair other people’s ships. Finding each other, despite the distance between your homelands, was not by accident. You two will prove to be very helpful to one another.” The two looked at each other, confused and a bit embarrassed, making the captain laugh. He turned to Damian, “You.” Damian pointed at himself as if to confirm even though he was the only one behind the bar, “I allow you in here is for the same reason. Despite your attitude, you radiate the same kind energy as my Anne.” Damian opened his mouth to protest but the captain held up his hand, “I’m not saying you are as openly affectionate. Your ship is made of hard materials usually made for battleships, odd for a child but undeniable. Still, you still seem to use that material to fight for others and fight for those you care for. You have a kind soul underneath.”

“So do my brothers.”

“Yes, but your brothers are loud and you are not.” Damian couldn’t help but bark out a laugh before covering his mouth and turning to Marinette. She was trying not to laugh, but the smile on her face showed that she was struggling.

Marinette took a few more sips from her drink and stared at her glass, “How do you do it?” Damian and Captain Staller turned to the small girl, “How do you stay afloat even when you feel like you’re being submerged?”

He sighed, “It’s all about inner strength combined with external support. If you have a lot of inner strength you may not need to rely on others as much and vice versa. Sometimes you find that one of those is draining and you need to shift to using the other a bit more for a while. It’s a balance. You don’t want to solely rely on those resources but you don’t want to isolate yourself thinking you can do it all by yourself.” He looked the two once over, “You both seem to be relying on your inner strengths too much. Rely on others and each other for a bit. Recharge. Rest. You’ll float.”

Marinette nodded and sighed before drinking the last bit of her drink, “Okay.”

Damian was snapped out of his thoughts and turned to her, “Okay?”

She nodded, “Okay.” She looked up at him, “We’re friends, right?” Damian nodded, “If I lean on you, you can lean on me. We don’t have long on this trip, but if I can I want to spend more time with you.” He looked surprised and the meaning behind her words caught up with her. Her face heated up and she began rambling, “If you want to! I mean, I just noticed that so far the best times I’ve had so far are with you and your brothers and-”

“Okay.”

“Huh?”

If Damian from a few months ago could time travel and see this moment, he’d slap current Damian. Damian always told people friends were a luxury he couldn’t afford and he hated relying on people. Being with the titans helped, but there was still a part of him that refused to admit it and continued to believe he was better off alone. Now? That part was subdued and he wanted her to lean on him if she chose. “Okay.”

Marinette smiled and nodded, looking much more relieved, “Okay.”

The captain looked between the two in their own little world and chuckled, “I’m glad my ship brought you two together.” The two turned back to the captain and he shook his head, “No, no.” He got up, “Don’t mind me. I need to do some more work. I meant to take a little break and now it’s an hour later.” He stretched his back, causing another crack to resonate in the room, and walked to the exit. “I hope you come back and visit me soon.”

Marinette got up and ran over to hug him, “Of course.”

Captain Staller smiled at her and turned to Damian, “Both of you.” Damian nodded, “Goodnight children.” He left the room and a comfortable silence engulfed the room as Marinette walked back over to her stool while Damian stood behind the bar.

She looked him over and giggled, “Those are your pajamas?”

Damian nodded, “I’m assuming those are yours?”

She stood up and spun around, “Made them myself.”

“They’re very well made, I would’ve thought you bought them.”

“Thank you!” She sat back down and trailed her finger around the rim of the glass cup in front of her, “What are you thinking?”

Damian thought for a moment before answering, “A lot of things now. About my own situation. About yours. A lot I guess.”

“Ah yes, being the sole son of the great Bruce Wayne must be hard.” She thought back to what Tim told her that first night, “You can’t trust many people, can you? There must be a lot of people just trying to use you for your name.”

Damian could’ve laughed. Being Damian Wayne was the easier half of him. It was being Robin that was threatening to sink him. Still, he nodded in response, “Being a superhero must be hard.” She glared at him and he smirked, “I’m joking.” He looked down at his own untouched drink, “Seriously though, Lila must be making things hard for you. Dealing with bullies, social isolation, and trying to stay a good student? Must be hard for you.” Damian didn’t really know what it was like to have those normal issues, but for a normal girl it must be tiring to deal with every day. In the back of his mind came a thought reminding him that she wasn’t normal though.

She nodded and sighed, “Yeah.”

Damian gulped down his own drink and pointed at the clock, “I think they’ll come looking for us again if we don’t head out soon.”

She got up and walked over to the door, “Let’s go.” Damian ran over and side by side the two walked back to Marinette’s room. The two stayed close and, unlike earlier when they were walking to the dining hall, this walk was quiet and comfortably so. The two could feel their arms and hands brush against each other, but neither reacted externally. They just enjoyed the company and were afraid of ruining the walk by doing something. As they turned the corner towards Marinette’s room, Alya ran up and almost crashed into them.

“Oh my god, I almost came looking for you.” She noticed Damian and smiled, “Oh! I mean, we can leave-”

Marinette hissed with a red face, “Alya!”

Alya giggled and motioned for the room, “Come on already. We got room service and now have sweets and movies and games galore.” She looked over Damian, “Have you ever been to a sleepover before?”

Damian frowned, “No.”

Alya’s eyes went wide, “Oh jeez, what is it with you rich kids and not having childhoods?” She grabbed their arms and pulled them to the room, “We have to show Adrien and Damian the sleepover of the ages!”

Seeing the look of apprehension on Damian’s face made Marinette laugh, “She’s just exaggerating. You’ll be fine! Just relax.”

He frowned and sounded tense, “I don’t relax.” Alya opened the doors and led the two the lively den that now had blanket forts and movies playing on the TV.

“I swear Nino if you keep hogging the popcorn I will hurt you.”

“Come on Chloe, we can just order more.”

“Then pick up the phone and order some.”

“Never.”

The three looked back and Adrien waved, “Hey! Join us!”

Nino sat up, “First order some more popcorn!”

Marinette rolled her eyes, “I’m just going to ask them to bring us each our own bowls. I’ll be back.”

As soon as Marinette walked away Damian felt out of his element. Adrien noticed this a motioned for him to sit down next to him, “First sleepover too?”

Damian crawled into the makeshift fort and sat next to the blond boy, “Yes, although I doubt we’re missing too much.”

“What? Oh no, no, no, no, no! You did not just say that.” Chloe crawled over and placed her hands on Damian’s shoulders and forced him to look at her, “You are about to experience the joys of trying to stay awake for as long as possible with tolerable people. Everything that happens in the room stays in the room and as the night goes on we will have confessionals.”

Damian took her hands off his shoulders, “Confessionals?”

Nino nodded, “Truth or dare.”

Damian groaned, “I refuse to take part of a movie trope.”

Adrien shrugged, “It’s a trope for a reason. It’s fun and helps you learn about those around you.” He sent Damian a reassuring smile, “Nothing bad. Most you’ll have to do is karaoke with this group.”

Damian scowled, “I don’t sing.”

“You will when we dare you to.” Chloe sat back down in her original spot, grabbing the popcorn out of Nino’s grasp on the way back. “You are with us now. I don’t know what your parents allowed or didn’t allow, but considering you and Adrien both don’t know what it’s like to have a sleep over it’s our personal duty to make sure this happens.” She smirked, “So where were you and Marinette anyway?” The three in the room all turned to Damian, expecting an answer, but Alya and Marinette walked back into the room.

“Okay Marinette ordered and I changed so we are good to go!” Alya looked around the room, “What’d we miss?”

Adrien shrugged, “Nothing outside the usual.”

Alya’s face deadpanned, “Did she vow to Damian-”

“-to make sure he experiences a great first sleepover, yes.” Adrien laughed, “It’s sweet though.” He looked over at Chloe who had her eyes glued to the screen and scarfing down the popcorn, “If it’s not a good first sleepover, I’m telling my father.”

Chloe snorted, “Yeah right, like your dad is going to get any leeway with my mother. Daddy maybe, but my mother is a whole different story.”

Adrien nodded, “True.”

Marinette and Alya crawled into the blanket fort with their friends, Alya sat next to Nino and Marinette sat between Chloe and Damian. “What are we watching anyway?”

Chloe threw some popcorn at Marinette, “Horror movie, hush.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and picked up some of the popcorn to munch on. “Oh my god this is good popcorn.”

Chloe threw a bit more, hitting both Marinette and Damian, “Yes it is and I’m not sharing. Now hush.” Marinette rolled her eyes and looked back at Damian, picking out a piece of popcorn sitting on top of his hoodie and throwing it in her mouth. She giggled at his confused reaction and continued to eat the popcorn Chloe threw them.

Within the walls of the dark den, the six kids were entranced by the screen. Most kids were in between being unable to watch and being unable to look away. The only exceptions were Alya and Damian who were making bets on who would survive.

“Final girl always wins.”

“Yes, but there are two final girl contestants here! Plus, there’s a kid!”

“Alya, Damian, I swear-”

The door behind them burst open with a kick and the six screamed and scrambled as far away as possible. The five classmates all fell into their own defensive stances while Damian grabbed the nearest thing not bolted to the ground, in his case a vase, and threw it at the figure in the doorway. The figure dodged it and turned on the light, “What the hell was that for?”

The six sighed in relief, “Oh my god, Jason you scared us.”

Jason shrugged, “Serves you right for watching horror movies late at night.” He looked at the screen, “I approve though.” He pulled in a cart of snacks, mainly popcorn, “But I’m here to make a delivery and check in on Bruce’s request.”

Damian growled, “We’re fine. Now please tell me the other two aren’t here.”

Dick ran into the room and threw a pillow from Marinette’s bed at his brother, who easily caught it, “Rude!” He crossed his arms, “Here we are, wondering how our near and dear baby brother is doing at his first sleepover and this is how you repay us?”

Tim walked in after Dick and shook his head at the broken vase, “I told you to knock.”

“More fun my way.”

Chloe frowned and walked over to the cart, taking the biggest bowl of popcorn and returning to her seat. “Turn the lights off already.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and walked over to the three brothers, “You guys joining us then?”

“No!” Damian walked over, “You were not invited and if you guys stay here I will leave.”

Dick smirked, “This coming from the kid who didn’t even want to come.”

Damian frowned, “Well I’m here now and not hating it so go!”

Jason walked over and sat next to Adrien, “Shut up I like this movie.” Adrien offered some of his popcorn and Jason happily took a bit.

Tim and Dick pushed their way through and before Damian could yell, Dick held up his hand, “We want to watch the movie. We’ll leave later, okay?” Damian was not satisfied with these terms, knowing them they’d stay the night and he would rather not have his first normal interaction with a group of kids his age be ruined by them. Still, Marinette motioned for them to sit wherever, grabbing some snacks and nudging Damian to follow her back to their seats. Damian realized there was only so much he could do against the group and reluctantly went back to his seat next to Marinette. She handed him his own bowl of popcorn and he graciously took it, continuing to enjoy the flick.

There were some screams, mainly by Tim, but overall the group decided to continue their horror movie night. As the night went on and the movies got worse, the group began talking over the flicks and move into what Chloe referred to as ‘confessionals’.

Marinette sat up and held up her hands, “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Dick has a long-term girlfriend and you didn’t bring her?”

Chloe scoffed, “Divorce.”

“We aren’t even married.”

Alya snickered, “She’s right. Divorce!”

Dick pouted and crossed his arms, “It’s not my decision to make. Bruce wanted this to be a family trip, no one else.”

Adrien stuffed some more popcorn in his mouth, “Why?”

Dick briefly looked over at Damian before shrugging, “Family vacation I guess.”

Jason ate some of the candy from the cart and shrugged, “Kory still should’ve come.”

Marinette perked up, “Oh, so her name is Kory?” She smiled, “Nickname?” Dick nodded and she whined, “Alya why can’t I find that?”

Alya pushed her friend over onto the pillows surrounding them, “Girl, you know how many guys threw themselves at you?”

She rolled onto her back and blew some hair out of her face, “They did not.”

Alya was not amused, “Nathaniel?”

“Akumatized and now with Marc.”

Adrien jumped in, “Luka?”

“He’s with Kagami and happier than ever.”

Nino raised his hand, “Me?”

“You and Alya are perfect for each other.”

Chloe scoffed, “Kim?”

“Kim did not like me!”

Alya rolled her eyes, “Face it. You happen to be a really good matchmaker, just not for yourself. You’ve had your chances, but you keep pushing them to who you think is ‘better’.”

Marinette sat up, “Because they were better. They’re happy aren’t they?”

“But are you?” Marinette turned her head to Tim who shrugged, “You want a relationship but you push it away when possible. Sounds to me like you don’t think you’d be a good partner. Not that there’s someone better.”

Marinette huffed and hugged a nearby pillow, “They are better.”

Dick sighed, “Alright, alright. Let it go.” Tim was about to open his mouth but was stopped by a pillow hitting his face, “I said let it go.”

Tim threw a pillow straight back at him, only for Dick to catch it midair, “Show off.”

Chloe turned to the boys and hummed, “You guys seem very coordinated. Damian caught a pillow too earlier.”

Damian shrugged, “Years of practice living with each other I guess.”

Alya nodded, “I can vogue for that. After babysitting my sisters I have wicked reflexes for anything aimed at my face.”

Dick laughed, “Sucks being the oldest, doesn’t it?”

Alya shook her head, “I’m not the oldest actually. My big sister is a wrestler.”

“Sweet.” Jason high-fived Alya and nudged Dick, “No one can relate to being the oldest but you.”

“I can.” Nino raised his hand and shrugged, “I’m the oldest in my family. I have a younger brother.”

Tim looked around, “Are the rest of you only childs then?” The remaining three nodded and Tim wore an expression of wonder and joy, “Oh my god, how is that like?”

“Lonely.”

“Boring.”

“I get whatever I want.”

Marinette sighed, “I kind of wish I had an older brother or sister though.”

Damian shook his head, “No. No you don’t.” The three older brothers all stuck their tongue at him and he rolled his eyes, “For a while I grew up an only child.”

“Really? How?”

“I lived with my mother until I was ten and then she passed me over to Father.”

Dick snorted, “Remember what Bruce said about the first thing you told him?”

Tim smiled, “I’ll be Damian!” He cleared his throat and sat up, crossing his arms and looking slightly annoyed. “Don’t be so surprised Father. I thought you’d be taller.”

The group laughed at Damian’s expense as he frowned and glared at Tim. Jason shook his head, “I can’t believe you’re forgetting the best part though.” He cleared his throat and looked at Dick who nodded and did the same, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. “I’ll drive.”

“No.”

“I know how.”

“No.”

Marinette bit her lip to keep from laughing, “How? How would a ten year old know how to drive?”

Damian grabbed the pillow out of Marinette’s arms and threw it at his laughing brothers, “You know, I don’t appreciate you telling these people I just met my life story.”

Dick sighed, “We’re not saying everything. Just some of the funnier parts. That’s part of a sleepover, kid. Story-telling.”

Chloe giggled, “We can tell you some great Marinette ones if you’d like.”

An almost unanimous “Yes!” with one weak “No!” resonated in the room. Alya smirked, “Sorry girl, but as per tradition and because you are the hostess it is only fair we do this.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Doesn’t have to. I’m getting tired and the people have the right to know.” Alya expertly dodged the candy thrown at her head and turned to the boys, “Okay, let me just start off by saying our dear Marinette hear is a walking accident waiting to happen.” Marinette groaned and fell back, covering her ears. “So not only will she be consistently late to class, she has an 80% chance of falling on the way into the actual classroom. If this was a few months ago, 95% if Adrien looked at her.”

“Alya, remember I know where you live.”

Dick snickered, “You had a pretty big crush on Adrien. What changed?”

Marinette propped herself up on her arms and looked over at Adrien, “I guess I just got over it? After Lila came along, it was hard to keep in touch with a lot of you. I guess growing apart just helped me let go of it.”

Adrien shrugged, “I’m happy with where we are now though.”

Marinette smirked, “Yeah, dodged a bullet dating a nerd like you.” Adrien threw some popcorn in her direction and she laughed, “No, but seriously. I just grew out of it I guess.”

Damian frowned, “Is he the reason why you let go of so many other guys?”

Marinette was surprised at the question but nodded, “Yeah. I didn’t feel right trying to go for someone else when I liked Adrien as much as I did. I guess I’m an all or nothing kind of person.”

Tim nodded, “See? Now that is a better reason than thinking someone else is better.” Tim sighed, “Sucks though, you missed a lot of opportunities.”

Marinette shrugged, “I’m hopeful that the right person will come around.”

Alya caught Damian’s eye and she wiggled her eyebrows at him, causing him to roll his eyes. Alya let out an exaggerated sigh, “Ah, yes. Who will ever take our sweet Marinette? She’s chased off all her suitors.”

“You’ve been watching too many westerns at Nino’s again.”

“Not my fault his brother went through a cowboy phase.”

Nino tipped his cap and winked, “Not my usual style, but playing sheriff was fun.”

Dick smiled, “Damian, remember when it was just you and me for a bit?”

Damian rubbed his temples, “Sadly.”

Chloe smirked, “Oh come on it couldn’t have been that bad.”

“You don’t know how annoying Grayson can be when he wants to be.”

“Same goes to you, Damian. As I recall, you had quite the superiority complex when we first met.”

Adrien turned to Damian, “Really? You seem pretty calm.”

Jason barked out a laugh, “That’s because the only emotion that kid knows how to express is anger. Trust me, piss him off and he’ll lose his cool like that!”

Jason snapped and Damian crossed his arms, “Keep talking and everyone’s going to see how bad I can get.”

Tim put his hands up, “No need! We’re completely cool with you not having a meltdown.”

“I do not ‘meltdown’!”

“You’re right, he throws tantrums.”

Marinette, clearly seeing how annoyed Damian was getting, stepped in, “I think it’s safe to say we all have our faults.”

Damian glared at his brothers, “Some more than others.”

Adrien laughed, “You know, even watching you guys argue makes me wish I had siblings. Would make my house actually feel more alive.”

Chloe shook her head, “Oh no. No way, I’m okay with being an only child and having friends. I could not deal with some kid trying to get my attention all the time.”

“So you finally learned to empathize with your dad, Chloe?” Chloe sent a glare at Alya who just laughed, “Joking! Joking! You know your dad loves you.” Chloe nodded, satisfied with the statement and Alya smiled. “You know, it’s weird. I never would’ve thought this would happen.”

Adrien sighed, “Me either, but I’m glad it is. I’m having fun.”

Marinette nodded, “It’s nice. A huge improvement from last night too.” The group all murmured agreements to her statement, all wishing they could forget the bad parts of that night. Marinette yawned, “What time is it?”

Dick looked at his phone and frowned, “You don’t want to know.”

“That late?”

“Yeah.”

Chloe got up and stretched, “Alright then, girls will take the bed and boys can sleep on the floor with the extra blankets.

Adrien nodded and sat up too, “Okay, Nino, Damian and I can clean up around here and head into the main bedroom when we’re done.” Chloe nodded and motioned for the other two girls to follow.

Marinette stopped and looked at the three older brothers, “Are you guys going to sleep here too? I don’t know if we have enough blankets for you guys.”

Dick shook his head, “No. If Damian’s glare is telling me anything, it’s that we’ve overstayed our welcome.” Marinette turned to Damian and, sure enough, he was staring his brothers down.

She shook her head and laughed, “Never a dull moment with you guys, huh?”

Jason got up and nudged her, “Nope.”

“Still think I’m Ladybug?”

“Yup.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and motioned for the three to follow her, “Come on, I’ll walk you guys out.” The night went on as expected, the three eldest Waynes left, the girls all sleep together on Marinette’s bed, and the three boys were sleeping on the floor with all the extra blankets.

Still, Marinette found herself waking up periodically, tossing and turning. She was getting more and more frustrated until she decided she needed a walk. She carefully crawled over the sleeping girls and off the bed, tiptoeing her way out of the room and shutting the door behind her. She walked to the nearest railing, not touching it but looking out at the sea surrounding them. She could see the coastline and the small city, briefly trying to picture what it would look like once they docked.

“So do you make a habit of this?” She turned her head to the boy walking up to her, “We’re there to keep an eye on you and make sure you aren’t by yourself and then you wander off in the middle of the night? I know you’re smarter than that.”

Marinette shook her head and turned back to the water, “I couldn’t sleep.” She heard him walk up beside her and the two stood there in silence looking over the sea. Eventually she quietly asked, “Do you really think I could be Ladybug?”

Damian nodded, keeping his eyes trained over the rails, “I think you’re as good of a candidate as any.”

“You haven’t even been to Paris. There are a lot of other people.”

“Maybe, but those people aren’t you.” Marinette turned to face Damian, watching him ponder over his next words, “I’m sorry you’ve been going through this.”

“I’m not-”

He turned to her, finally meeting her gaze and any words she wanted to say died in her mouth, “You say you hate liars, but you probably have the biggest lie to hide out of anyone.”

Marinette looked away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I can tell something’s up.”

“You don’t get it.” She sighed, “Hawkmoth gets into people’s heads. If he akumatizes someone who thinks they know Ladybug’s identity, what do you think will happen?” Her expression became more serious as she looked back up at him, “Get it out of your head. I’m not Ladybug.”

Damian frowned, “Was it hard?”

“Was what hard?”

“Being on your own like that? Do you have anyone to talk to? Does he know?”

She paused for a moment and shook her head, sighing, “I can’t have this conversation.”

Damian asked again, his stern tone demanding a response, “Does Cat Noir know?”

“Know what?” Marinette glared at him and her voice was cold, “I don’t know Cat Noir. Cat Noir wouldn’t know me because we don’t interact. I am not Ladybug!”

Damian didn’t flinch, “You don’t have to lie to me. I won’t tell my brothers if you don’t want me to. Still, I should tell you that Tim is a great detective and Jason is stubborn. They’ll find out and tell everyone they were right unless you tell them yourself and ask them to stay quiet.” Marinette didn’t respond and he felt pity, “It’s okay-”

“What about this is okay?!” Marinette clenched her fists at her sides and could feel herself losing her temper, “What about any of it is okay, Damian?! The heroes of Paris were young and inexperienced when they started! They didn’t get any help and when they did it was just more kids! Ladybug and Cat Noir have to show up anytime someone has a negative emotion! How does anyone expect someone to live like that?!” Marinette took a shaky breath and felt body shaking, “I mean, they’re kids! I know there isn’t any concrete proof, but it’s obvious! Especially after Chloe became Queen Bee, it made it more obvious that they were all kids! They all look young!” She shook her head and held herself, “How is that fair? I know people in America choose to be heroes. They choose to use their powers for good and while I don’t have any doubts that their hearts are in the right place, how do you expect to put that kind of responsibility on a kid? They can’t tell anyone! They can’t talk to anyone!” The shaking grew more violent and her next words came out weak but forced, “That has to be so much for a couple of kids. And Ladybug? If she fails, everything is done for. All damage becomes permanent. Paris will fall.”

Damian didn’t really know how to answer her. He knew only about another hero in her position, Shazam, but he at least had people to depend on. People who knew. Sometimes his friends shared his power and helped. Ladybug didn’t have that luxury. He just watched her retreat further into herself and they stood in silence until she leaned onto him. Before he could say anything, she weakly pleaded, “Let me lean on you, okay?”

Damian relaxed and let her lean on him, “Okay.” Damian now knew for a fact that she was Ladybug. He wondered if he had any right to complain about his situation now. She was by herself and holding it all in. She was right, too. If she failed, Paris would fall. Cat Noir could fight, but without the Miraculous Cure the damage would be too much. He briefly wondered how the cities back in the US were still standing after all the damage they’ve sustained. Still, he had his brothers and the Titans, Batman had the Justice League, but she didn’t have other team members who could share the burden of being Ladybug. While the League could send other heroes to other cities when needed, Paris specifically needed their Ladybug and her magic. She might have Cat Noir, but Cat Noir doesn’t have her powers. He can’t purify and he can’t heal.

He looked down at the girl and frowned, “Do you need anything from me?”

She shook her head and let out a bittersweet laugh, “I’m the worst.” She sniffed, “I should be better than this. I should have a better handle on this. I shouldn’t be like this.” She wiped her eyes, “I don’t want to cry anymore.”

Damian sighed, “It’s not good to keep it in though. That’s how you burn out.”

“How does Bruce do it?”

“Do what?”

“Fight crime.” Damian thought for a moment and bit his tongue, wanting to just talk but not willing to out his father’s identity. She sniffed and wiped her eyes, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” She pulled away and looked up at him, “What are you going to do now?”

Damian had all the confirmation he needed, she didn’t need to say it he knew by her frustrations. Still, he couldn’t bring it in him to just go and tell his brothers without her permission. She didn’t do anything wrong by him or his family, she was here needing just as much as a getaway as he did. “Nothing if you don’t want me to.”

She sighed and leaned her forehead on his shoulder, “God, why am I so tired?”

“Probably because you haven’t slept that well in the three days we’ve been here.”

She smiled, “It’s only been three days? It feels like weeks.”

Damian nodded, “Yeah.” Damian nudged her and she looked back up at him, “Let’s go back to sleep.”

She frowned and groaned, “Great. Dick’s seen me have an emotional breakdown and now you’ve seen me have a nervous breakdown.” She hit her head against his arm, “I’m a mess.”

“Wait, what happened with Dick?”

She shook her head, “Don’t worry about it. Just know I ruined one of his t-shirts with my tears and now I have to make him a new shirt. That reminds me, I need to get material and a sewing machine in town tomorrow.” She thought aloud to herself, “And the design, what am I going to design?”

Damian smirked, “He really likes Nightwing back in Gotham. Make him a Nightwing themed shirt and I promise he’ll be speechless.”

She looked up at him and smiled, “You think?”

“I know.” He chuckled, “Just make sure I’m there when you give it to him.”

Marinette frowned, “Why do I get the feeling you’re going to enjoy that a little too much?”

“Because I will.”

Marinette snorted and then switched to a more somber tone, “Must be nice having people in your life like that.”

“Yeah, they’re insufferable, but they’re good people and I can count on them when need be.” Damian sighed and leaned against the railing, “They still give me gray hairs, though.”

Marinette grinned, “Careful, your inner old man is coming out. You want some tapioca?”

“Shut up.” He nudged her again and she giggled, “Well, looks like you’re in a better mood.”

She hummed, “I guess so.”

“Venting helps.”

“Yeah, it did.”

“You want to go back to sleep?”

Marinette yawned and shook her head, “No.”

“Still a bad liar.”

“You know you can vent to me too right?” He looked her over and she shrugged, “I get that you don’t open up as easily as I do, but I can tell you that I’m a good listener. Whenever you decide to talk to me, I’ll be here.”

He sighed and shook his head, “You’ve cried almost every night since boarding and you’re still going to offer yourself up like that? Is that even healthy?”

“I’m offering because I want to.”

He frowned, “You need to take care of yourself first.”

“Hey remember what the captain said, we need to lean on each other. You agreed.” She smiled, “You know something weird?”

“What?”

“This is the most I’ve felt in a while.” He sent her a confused look and she took it as a cue to go into more detail, “Back in Paris, I think I just became numb. I tried not to feel anything out of fear of an akuma.”

“You tried not to do anything either by the looks of it.”

She frowned, “Adrien once told me to take the high road. That outing her as a liar wouldn’t help anyone and it’d only put her in a worse position. So I did because it was okay if he knew too. At least, that’s what I thought.” She thought back, “She’s done nothing but take my friends away. Lila pulled Adrien away from me, too. She tried to lie about me a few times to make me look bad, and Adrien did help with those times, but she just kept doing it again and again. She didn’t learn and she wasn’t satisfied. Even when she had the whole class wrapped around her finger, she still wouldn’t stop because I wouldn’t follow.”

“She wanted full control of the school.”

“Exactly. At this point, I don’t know if anyone would even believe me this has gone on for so long.” She smiled, “Winning this trip was me taking the first step to getting a better handle on things. I just wanted my friends back and so far I think it’s worked. Alya’s hanging out with me. Nino too. Others are talking to me more.” She sighed, “But then there’s Lila. I don’t know what it is but she makes me panic. I don’t panic like I do when she’s around.” She ran her fingers through her hair, “She just makes me feel-“

“Weak.”

She nodded, “Yeah, because I can’t do anything. She allows herself to be akumatized and hates the heroes with a passion. She would be the perfect Akuma and I’m trying to avoid being the cause of that.”

Damian sighed, “Sounds like you’ve been put between a rock and a hard place. Either you out her and cause an Akuma or you leave her alone and you continue getting bullied.” He hummed, “Even if you defeat her she seems the type to hold a grudge. She’d just get akumatized again.”

She nodded, “Yup. So it’s easier to just let things be.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

She sighed, “No. No it doesn’t.”

Damian sympathized with her, she really couldn’t just out Lila on her lies because having a spiteful, emotional teen girl come back to Paris after Marinette in particular would be less than desirable. “You know it might be good to at least tell Alya and Nino. Adrien seems to know and, despite his terrible advice, has enough sense not to humor the girl unless necessary. Chloe seems to distrust her too, so you have her. Still, Alya is your best friend and Nino is your oldest friend. It’d be good to have them on your side.”

“And when Lila notices that Alya stopped hanging out with her?”

“Alya will just have to tell her that she has other friends. You can’t monopolize someone’s time like that.” Damian yawned and rubbed his eyes, “Oh great now I’m tired.”

Marinette tried to hide her smile, “Uh oh, your human is showing.”

“You’re just saying that because of my brothers.”

She poked his cheek, “Yup.” Her expression softened, “You know you’re easy to talk to when you let your walls down.”

“I’ll have to kill you if you let anyone know.”

Marinette snorted, “Yeah, right.”

Damian rolled his eyes, “Come on. We need to get back before anyone gets back.”

Marinette groaned, “Can’t we just stay like this?” Damian turned to her and his confusion made her laugh, “I mean, it’s nice. It’s cold but nice. Talking to you really helped. Plus, I don’t have to worry about anyone barging in since it’s so late.” She sighed and finally let herself lean on the boat’s railing, “It’s like a temporary bottle.”

“All bottles break.”

“But I don’t want to be the one to break it.” She didn’t want to look down so she kept looking straight ahead, “I haven’t felt this calm in such a long time.”

Damian sighed and took his place next to her, “I can relate to that, at least. I’ll admit, the school and social stuff are out of my expertise.”

“Well, you’ve been doing okay so far.”

Damian smirked, “Me threatening my brothers in front of you guys is okay?”

“You should be around when Chloe is having a bad day. She threatens to use Queen Bee’s venom on us at least once a week.”

Damian nodded, “Sounds like her.”

Marinette smiled and nudged him, “So you have been bonding.”

“I’ll deny it if you tell anyone.”

Marinette hummed and nodded, “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Damian nodded and jokingly replied, “Yours is safe with me too, Ladybug.”

Damian expected her to get annoyed at him, what he didn’t expect is for her to lay her head on his shoulder and for her to softly hum in approval. He tensed up at the sudden contact, but soon yawned and relaxed against her. He wondered if this was normal or if she was just this expressive. Or maybe it was weird for him to let her do this? Was she even in the right mindset? Was he? He sighed and hung his head, “What?”

“I’m thinking.”

“About?”

“This.”

“Oh.” She pulled away and stretched, “I’m sorry.”

Damian shrugged, “I’m not used to this. If I was the person I was a few months ago I would never let this happen. I don’t think I’d be so keen on any of this.”

“What changed?”

He shook his head, “I guess I did.” There was a heavy pause, he knew she wanted to pry but she wasn’t as forward as he was with the questions. Damian looked at her thinking over what to say next, “What?”

“I just realized I don’t know you that well.”

“You just realized that?”

Marinette paused before asking, “Will I ever get to know you?”

Damian was surprised by her question and realized if he were to answer honestly he wouldn’t have one for her, so he said, “I don’t know.”

Marinette sighed and shrugged, “I want to.”

Damian shook his head, “No. You really don’t. I have still have a lot of skeletons in my closet and I’m not planning on taking them out anytime soon.”

Marinette hummed, “A little unfair, don’t you think?”

“What is?”

“You know so much about me and it’s only been a few days, but I don’t know you at all.”

He shrugged, “I have a lot to hide.”

“So do I.”

He frowned, realizing what position he put himself in. If she wasn’t cautious around him, he could go off and tell his brothers that she was Ladybug. While he liked control he didn’t need her to feel like she was being blackmailed. He sighed, debating if she was worth telling her anything. He looked her over one more time, she was small, vulnerable, and didn’t have a spiteful bone in her body. He had no doubt she would keep a big secret, but which one could he tell her? He had too many and he didn’t need to put another person through that.

Damian closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “On my mother’s side I was trained from the day I could walk to be the new head of the family.” He opened his eyes and realized he had her full attention, “Her and my grandfather put me through harsh challenges to make sure I was the best of the best. It was supposed to be us three leading our family against the world.” He frowned, “Then my grandfather died.”

Marinette didn’t want to interrupt him, despite wanting to react. Damian turned to her and his shoulders fell, “That’s around the time my mother sent me to my father. We didn’t get off on the best foot. I didn’t make a good impression on any of them. If I wasn’t my father’s son then I don’t think they would’ve dealt with me. I put my father in an awkward position, I hurt my brothers, and I ran away a lot. Still, Grayson, Father, and the others kept me around.” He scowled, “I wasn’t a good person. My mother and grandfather made me into something they could use but didn’t teach me about people. I didn’t have a normal childhood and it’s probably why I am the way I am now.” He thought for a moment before admitting, “I’m grateful for where I am now, I feel useful. Still, I don’t think I’ll ever be a normal kid. I grew up too fast, put through too much, and now I’m exhausted by it all.”

His chuckle had a bitter undertone to it, “I was put on a team at Grayson’s request. It helped, I’ll admit. Working with other people like me helped, but I’m wearing down. Our leader saw it first and told Father. Father asked me to return and I guess he thought I was so bad that he contacted my brothers and told us we were all going on a trip. Now, we’re here because I can’t hold myself together.”

There was a moment of silence as Marinette processed his story. “That must’ve been so hard.” She thinks about the standards Paris set of her and how similar he must’ve felt when his mother and grandfather set those standards for him. He was even younger than her too. “Do you think being on the ship has helped?”

“I don’t know. Maybe if we ever get a calm day it might.” She laughed and he smirked, “Are we good now?”

She smiled and nodded, “We are. I just wish I could help.”

“Honestly, I’ve only ever told my father that. I think telling someone outside the family helped.”

“Then I’m glad.” She yawned, “Okay, now I think I’m tired enough to go back.”

Damian smirked, “You look like you’re about to drop dead.”

“Thanks, I think the key is not sleeping well for half a week.”

Damian grinned and shook his head, “Come on already. Let’s get you back already. I’m pretty sure we only have like 2 more hours of sleep.”

She groaned, “Please don’t say that!”

“Not my fault you’re an insomniac.”

She pushed him playfully, “Come on. I have to sneak back on the bed and I don’t know if I can do that. Knowing those two, they probably spread out over the empty space.”

“Sucks for you.”

Marinette yawned, “Hey Damian?”

“Yeah?”

“You promise you won’t say anything, right?”

Damian nodded, “Of course.”

She smiled, “Okay. I want to talk to you more. Is that okay?”

Damian snorted at her question, she asked like a child asking for permission to do something questionable, “Yeah, I think I can make that work.”

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

To those who want more Seabourne Burnouts content, @itawonka-creates is specifically dedicated to my writing (which is just this story rn) so you can just follow the blog and set it up to be notified just in case the tags do not work!

Tag List (Bitch I have a tag list whAT!?!?!):

@maribat-archive @ozmav @thornangelic727@imfreakingmagical@constancetruggle @chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay@someone-ev @zazzlejazzle @tinybrie @mewwitch @rhub4rb@saphiraazure2708 @never-neverland @unholykrow @slytherinhquinn @literallytryingmybestbutok @redscarlet95 @grimmhallow31 @fandomkitten9653 @myriad-of-passionate-pettiness @fanboy7794 @mystifiedgal @shizukiryuu @ vixen-uchiha @resignedcatservant @mystery-5-5 @miraculousl4dybug @blackcanary13 @origamieater @moonlitarchangels @mochinek0 @imfreakingmagical @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @derpingrainbow @unabashedbookworm @skyel0ve @northernbluetongue @cadencehood @sizzling-fairy-oil @crazylittlemunchkin @saphiraazure2708 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @ginamarie1512 @kae690 @ivette0712 @zalladane @ellerahs @auradonfairy @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @scribblinggraveyard @nyctamaximoff @snow-swordswoman @maude-zarella @thebookwormfairy @melicmusicmagic @zalladane @ivette0712 @ginamarie1512 @bookreader20003 @silvergold-swirl @celestiacq @themcclan

Let me know if I missed anyone!

#Seabourne Burnouts #idea: maribat! on deck #maribat #marinette x damian #damien x marinette #maridami #crossover #au #fanfiction #daminette

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imagines-dreams · 5 years

Text

First Meeting(s) - Tom Holland Imagine

Rating: G

Warnings: meet-cute, budding feelings

Summary: Stacy, an intern at Stark Industries, is told to give Peter Parker some pictures from his Germany “trip.” / You are auditioning for the role of Stacy in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. During your last callback, you have to do a chemistry read with Tom Holland.

Word Count: 1774

Notes: So this might be a series??? Idk, I had an idea, I ran with it. Sorry if it’s a mess, also I wrote this for a poc!reader, but I’m not sure if I mentioned anything specific

~ - ~

You smiled. “Hi, I’m looking for Peter Parker. I was told he’d be here for Academic Decathlon practice.”

The young man nodded. “Yes, he’s right over there.”

“He might quit though!” One of the girls shouted. “You never know.”

“He did quit band,” another one added. When everyone looked at her with knowing eyes, she only raised an eyebrow. “I’m observant.”

You tilted your head. “What can you observe about me then?”

She tilted her head and looked you up and down. “Type A, private school, intern.”

“You can call me Stacy.”

“Michelle.”

“Anyway, Peter?”

“That’s, uh, me. I’m Peter.” He looked shorter in pictures. His layers of clothing hid the superhero muscle you knew was underneath. His backpack was on the floor, and if anyone stared closely enough, it wasn’t a standard backpack. It wasn’t the patches or the pins that made it special. No, it was the plastered web fluid on the corner, perhaps from a misfire or leftover from when he webs it to walls.

You cleared your throat and as you walked to Peter you purposely brushed your foot against the misplaced webs to smear it, turning it effectively into a smudge or stain.

You handed Peter the folder. “Ms. Potts told me to give this to you.”

“Ms. Potts?” Peter took the folder and smiled at it. “What is it? Why-”

“Pictures,” you said. “From the last intern conference.”

He blinked a few times, and for a split second, you could see Peter’s face contort in confusion. There was no such thing as a Stark intern conference. With one look at you and your tale-telling expression, he nodded. “Yeah, yeah the, uh, conference, that I was at. With you, of course. Cause you’re also an intern.”

“Yes, in the research department,” you helped.

“Yeah!” He laughed. “And I met you at the conference...”

You laughed. “Stacy.”

“Right, Stacy. I remember that.”

You laughed. “You know, for a Stark mentee, you have pretty bad memory.”

“I’m just trying my best.” Peter shrugged.

“Hey, it’s all good. We all are.” You leaned in close to whisper. “You might wanna not leave webs on your backpack, though.”

Peter’s eyes widened. He leaned down and whispered back, “You, uh, saw webs on my backpack? That’s, I mean, that’s insane.”

“Mhm.” You tilted your head. “Mr. Stark told me about what you do for your internship.” Peter Parker held his breath, but you just smiled. “Helping out at the Avengers Compound must be exciting.”

“You know, you don’t have to help Parker,” another boy said, a smug smirk on his face. “We know his Stark internship is boring as hell. Not to mention, he’d probably never meet any of the Avengers.”

“Hm.” You hummed and held out your hand. Peter put the envelope in your hands. “Do you mind, Peter?”

“Not really. What are you-”

You opened the envelope and grabbed the first picture. A printed picture of Peter with Black Widow. She was staring at the camera, clearly amused by Peter’s attempt to get a selfie with her. As you suspected, Peter wasn’t in the suit. It was after whatever happened in Berlin. So, his eye was forming a bruise, if you looked very closely, but he had this infectious smile, so it was easy to overlook.

Almost. You couldn’t believe that the kid you just met, that stuttering, clumsy kid, was Spider-Man. How could a fifteen-year-old do all this? Sure, you had a similar-ish schedule. But your internship was in the research department. You reviewed simple calculations and offered an idea or two. Sometimes, you got to see Ms. Potts walk through the hallways. She said hi to you once.

You squealed when she left.

Those were your exciting moments.

Peter’s exciting moments was fighting other superheroes and chasing bad guys and swinging through New York.

You glanced at Peter. That kid with a nervous smile was really something.

“Black Widow?!” screeched the kid with that smug look on his face. Well, he had a smug look on his face. It dropped when he saw that Peter really had met the Avengers. He reached out for the envelope, but you pulled them away and handed them back to Peter. “Sorry, here you go.”

He laughed. “That was amazing.”

“It was nothing.” You glanced at that annoying kid, and you couldn’t help but giggle that escaped your lips. “Plus, that was really satisfying, not gonna lie.”

“Still,” Peter insisted, “I could never do that.”

You scoffed. “Please! I know you do braver things.”

He laughed and looked around, as if trying to hide the fact that his cheeks were turning a slight pink. “I, uh, I mean… not with that.” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

You nudged him. “Hey, don’t worry about it. But, if you ever wanna talk, they call me Stacy. And I intern in the labs at Stark Tower. My boss is really nice and lets me take breaks when I need it, or if a friend visits.”

Peter nodded. “I might swing by.”

Your jaw dropped. “Did you just-” You hit him again. “I hate you. I rescind my offer.” You picked up your things.

Peter laughed. “Hey, what? That was uncalled for! Stace!”

You laughed. “See ya, Peter.” You saluted him with two fingers and left for your internship. Couldn’t leave precious biotech sims and cell cultures by themselves after all.

~ - ~

Tom was stunned for a moment. You were good. You held this confident air around you when you played Gwen. Sure, other girls have too, but you did it with such grace. At that moment, he could see the entire franchise’s span with him and you on the posters. Sure, you didn’t look like the Gwen Stacy from the comics, but you were her in every sense. Sharp, clever, graceful, kind.

Your eyes met his. When Tom didn’t say anything, you looked through the script. “Sorry, is it my line?”

“No!” He cleared his throat. “Uh, you did a great job.”

You sighed. “Oh, good.” You laughed. “Thank you. You did a great job, too.”

“Alright, thank you, (Y/n). If you got the part, you should get a call from us within the next two weeks.”

You nodded. “Thank you so much for the opportunity.” You shook hands with Sarah Finn and Jon Watts. Then, you smiled at Tom and held out you hand. “And it was nice meeting you, Tom.”

“Yeah, yeah, you too.” He shook your hand. “Hopefully, we can see each other soon.”

“Definitely.”

Just as you approached your car, the man you played opposite of ran outside of the building and called your name.

You rubbed your tired eyes and smiled. “Yes?”

“Sorry, uh,” Tom stuttered as he tried to catch his breath. You assumed it was from running, but in truth, the actor was just trying to compose himself long enough to talk to you without sounding like an incoherent mess. So, Tom shook his head and stood up straight. “Sorry, I just forgot to ask for your number.”

You blinked a few times. “Right. Of course, you need my number.” He did not need your number, but you were too tired, and perhaps you were supposed to swap numbers. It must’ve slipped your mind. He handed his phone to you, and you typed in your number.

“Uh, thanks. So sorry about that,” Tom apologized again.

You shrugged. “No problem. It’s nice meeting you.” You laughed. “Again.”

“Yes. Lovely meeting you.” He smiled. “Well, I can’t keep you. Have a nice day.”

“You, too.”

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, much after the two-week deadline, did you realize that Tom was too fit to be out of breath from a very short run. So, that meant there was another reason why the actor wasn’t his calm self. He did gaze at you after the scene had finished. Was it possible…

No. It wasn’t. And even if it was, it didn’t matter. You weren’t going to see him again.

And even if you and he crossed paths again for another project or for an awards show, you were both actors. Cameras and gossip magazines took your privacy away. It’d be too complicated. So, no use in thinking about it.

Your phone rang. The area code was familiar. Maybe it was another open audition. You answered, “Hello, (Y/n) (Y/l/n) speaking,” and grabbed your planner just in case.

“Hi, it’s Tom.”

“Oh, hi!” You smiled widely at the sound of his voice. When you realized it, you pursed your lips. “Uh, what is it?”

“I just wanted to congratulate you!”

Congratulate you? On what?

The pen fell from your hands. He couldn’t mean. You hadn’t received a call from the casting director. Or your agent yet. “Congratulate me?” you gasped.

“Oh, uh, check your messages.”

“My what?”

“Check your texts. I sent you something.”

You opened his text to find a link. You clicked on it. It read, “The New Cast of Spider-Man: Homecoming - What We Know”. First, a paragraph on Tom Holland and his reprise of his role as Spider-Man. Then, Zendaya who was casted but no details on the person she plays. Jacob Batalon playing Ned, RDJ playing Tony Stark, Marisa Toomes as Aunt May, Jon Favreau as Happy Hogan, and then your name.

“New and upcoming actress, (Y/n) (Y/l/n) has been cast, but little is known about the character she will play. While Laura Harrier has been confirmed to be Liz Allen, the popular teenager Peter can’t stop thinking about, there is no indication of whether or not (Y/l/n) will be a major character in the film.”

“I got the part,” you whispered. You were cast. That meant that you were given the role you auditioned for. Oh god, you were going to be Stacy!

“I got the part!” you screamed.

“Yeah, you did!” Tom shouted. “Congratulations! You deserve it!”

“Oh my god!” You laughed and shouted, “I’m Gwen Stacy!”

Tom laughed. “Sh!” he teased. “Spoilers!”

You pressed your hand against your chest as if that could calm your racing heart. “Oh, god, I can’t believe this.”

“Really? Your audition was perfect.” He sighed. “I can’t wait to start working with you.”

Working with Tom Holland, the new Spider-Man. It was a dream come true. It didn’t matter how he looked at you when your scene was done or how handsome he was, you were going to part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, with an amazing leading man and cast. No matter what happened, this was going to change your life.

With a dreamy smile, you admitted, “I can’t wait either.”

~ - ~

Am I posting this super late? Yes. Do I have any idea what to do from here? Kinda??? I mean, I don’t even know if this is a good idea, or something from my tea-infused, late-night brain, so very sorry if this sucks. I may or may not continue it. If you want me to write more (I have no clue why you would), please give me ideas??? maybe???

Anyway, thanks for reader, and have a wonderful day, readers!

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland oneshot #mcu #mcu fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker oneshot #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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justanoutlawfic · 5 years

Text

Where You Lead: Here Comes The Son Pt. II

Summary: Henry assists Belle, Gideon and Alba pack up Wren's old office. While there, his aunt and uncle give him a big reality check.

This installment contains the prompted line that inspired this arc: ""For God's sake Henry, just admit you dropped the ball and pick it back up. Dad didn't admit it and he didn't talk to your father for years.", by @queen-of-the-merry-men.

Also on AO3

The Gold house would never not seem massive to Henry, no matter how many times he saw it. Growing up, it was like a castle. Neal told him that there were dragons lurking around the corner and he would sneak his wooden sword in, just in case they needed to fight. As he got older, it felt safe and warm, comforting. It was his home away from home, a place where he would always have a room. Wren had updated the nursery over the years, making it into a bedroom for a “proper young man” as he liked to say, so Henry could spend the night as often as he wanted. There were the Friday night dinners that decreased after college, but still never went out of style.

The house had so many memories and a huge part of him was so happy that no one else was going to live there.

Yet, another part of him couldn’t shake his argument with Mat.

After the dinner, he and Jacinda weren’t exactly on the best of terms either. Henry had told her about the argument and she wasn’t thrilled that he had decided to pick at it, especially when he promised to stay civil. They had waited so long for Mat to come back to them and now she was afraid that it was never going to happen.

When Mat skipped Wren’s funeral, Henry had been furious. The next time he saw him, it lead to a huge argument where Henry did most of the yelling and Mat just stood there, acting unbothered by it all. In the end, Mat went back to New York and barely spoke to either of them for the next 2 years. Sure, he’d see them at events, but it’d be awkward. He’d call his mother once every few months, never his father. Lucy, Xiomara and the rest of the family knew better than to talk about Mat in front of him, so he wasn’t sure how often they saw him outside of those, but he was sure it wasn’t very often.

Henry hated having this relationship with Mat and he did want it to change. He just didn’t think it was going to get anywhere without an apology, and especially not with Mat claiming that he didn’t know him. How could he put everything back on Henry? This wasn’t his fault. Wren hadn’t been the only one to see him, that couldn’t possibly true…could it?

Shaking it off, Henry rang the doorbell and was greeted by the housekeeper. He handed over the coat and took in the now mostly barren entry way. Belle, Alba, Gideon and their respective spouses had been packing up the house. She had officially purchased the vacation home on the Cape and planned to live there full time, visiting her family often of course, but it was time for her to discover herself in her second act of life now that Wren was gone.

Henry made his way to the study, that day’s mission. He said he would help, knowing it would be hard on them. That day, it would just be the twins and Belle, five people that really knew him best. He pushed open the door and found some folded up boxes, with Alba and Gideon sitting at the large oak desk, pouring over an old photo album.

Alba favored her mother. Blonde hair (Belle’s natural color) and blue eyes, with Belle’s nose and chin. Gideon, however, outside the lighter brown hair, was pretty much a mirror image of the Gold men. His eyes were hazel and when he smiled, you could see Wren. There were times it was hard to look at him since his grandfather past, seeing how much of him was in there. At the same time, it was such a blessing to have that piece of him left on Earth.

“Hey guys,” he said. “Not much packing?”

The two looked up. “We started but then came across these,” Alba explained. “Pretty much ancient, from back when Papa was a kid.”

Henry crouched down next to them, ignoring the pain in his knees as he did so. “Damn,” he mumbled. Sometimes it was weird seeing his grandfather as a kid, in the old, faded polaroids. “He looks a lot like you did when you were small, Gid.”

“Look at this one I found though, when he was a teenager,” Gideon said, holding it up. “Just like you did.”

He took it from his “uncle”, marveling at the similarities. From the hair, to the nose, even the bone structure. “Damn,” he whispered. “Well, no doubt we’re related.”

Belle’s voice traveled from the doorway. “He was truly a handsome man.”

Henry’s eyes drifted up and he gave her a sympathetic smile. “How ya doing, Belle?” He got up and walked over, kissing her cheek.

She shrugged her shoulders, her grey hair moving as she did so. “Best I can, sweetheart.” Belle patted his back. “Thanks for coming by.”

“No problem. You know Dad would’ve, but things at the inn are just so busy.”

“Oh, don’t sweat it. Besides, I think this is the perfect job for the four of us. We always cared more about the books and such.”

Henry nodded. “So, what’s first?”

“What we’ve done for each room. We’ll make keep boxes and then separate that per person in the family, then giveaway and toss.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

They got to work, making the boxes first before going through the office. Wren had retired from teaching 10 years prior to his death and Belle had already gone through all the important documents. All they had to go through were his books and other important items.

“I think his law books should go to Xiomara,” Gideon said. “She’s the only one of us that followed in his footsteps and became a lawyer.”

Henry grinned. “She’s like that.”

“I want his globe,” Alba picked it up, cradling it in her arms.

Her brother gave her a weird look. “What are you going to do with a globe? You’re a fashion designer.”

“I used to come into this office and sit on his lap, spinning it around and we’d plan trips I’d take when I was older.” Alba spun it a bit. “It’s how I planned my first backpacking trip through Europe.”

Belle put her hand on her daughter’s back. “I think he’d want you to have it, sweetheart.”

They were creating more boxes for keep, but luckily, they were going to family members and it wouldn’t be for Belle to have to bring with her to the smaller Cape home. As they were getting towards the end, Henry went to go take down the portrait of Wren and Neal on the wall from when the latter Cassidy-Gold man was in his pre-teens.

“Oh wait, keep that one up,” Belle stopped him. “Mat says he wanted that in the office.”

Henry frowned. “Okay.”

Belle tilted her head. “Do you not want him to have it?”

“It’s not that, I want my kids to keep whatever they want of Grandpa’s.” His step-grandmother and her kids looked at him expectedly, which made him sigh. “We had dinner with Mat the other night.”

Belle grinned. “Well that’s good news, isn’t it?”

“I guess, but Mat told us you were letting him buy the house and I just…I don’t get why he wants it.”

“It’ll stay in the family,” Alba pointed out.

“It doesn’t seem like he cared about that stuff before.”

“Trust me, he does, more than you realized.”

Henry’s brows furrowed. “Anyway, I brought that up, considering he skipped Grandpa’s funeral…”

Gideon groaned. “Henry, you didn’t.”

“Well, he did. And I still can’t believe all of you are just okay with it.”

“Would we have liked him there? Yes, but he had to work.”

“When family dies, especially the grandfather that helped pay for you to go to college, you show up.”

“Listen, we forgave him. It’s time you did too.”

“I want to. I do. I went to the dinner with every intention to. And then when we started talking about it…he started saying that Grandpa was the only person who knew him and that I didn’t understand. Which is complete insanity, right?”

Belle, Gideon and Alba fell silent. Henry looked between each of them, trying to read their faces. This wasn’t like them at all.

“I said…right?”

Alba sighed. “Come on, Henry…you can’t be this stupid.”

“Alba Collette!” Belle scolded.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m an adult.” She turned to her nephew. “Do you really want to tell me that you think you gave your kids equal amounts of attention growing up?”

Henry scoffed. “Of course I did.”

“Really?”

“Come on, Hen,” Gideon’s voice was a bit kinder. “You’re a smart guy, a Yale graduate for Christ’s sake. You can’t see that you and Jacinda focused more on Lucy and Xiomara growing up.”

Henry frowned, his stomach flip flopping a bit. It was one thing when Mat said it. He was angry, they were estranged. But Gideon and Alba told it like it was, they had witnessed everything. If they saw it…

No, it couldn’t be true. They had focused on all the kids. He didn’t have favorites. They weren’t like that. Those types of parents were Victoria Tremaine, they worked so hard to be anything but them, and they had succeeded.

Hadn’t they?

Henry looked over at his grandfather’s widow. “Belle?”

Belle looked anywhere but him. “I want to try to find your grandfather’s fountain pen. I have his engraved one, but…”

“Belle!”

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair, before her blue eyes met his hazel ones. “I think you had three kids, all the same age. That can’t have been easy. I also know that you did your best and anything you did; you didn’t do on purpose. I also think that Xiomara and Lucy were a lot easier to know how to handle, because they were more vocal, they got into more trouble and Mat was “easier” when he was little.”

“But?”

“There were a lot of times that Mat would come here for advice…because he felt left out.”

Henry’s frown increased. “That’s just impossible. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“People did try, Henry. Everyone did, but it was hard. Mat was so independent and he didn’t need you as much. So, I think naturally, he got left behind. And as a result, a lot of his attention…he got here.”

Henry dropped down into his grandfather’s desk hair, his mind spinning. He tried to think back to the triplets’ childhood. There were parts of it that were foggy. Some days all he could remember was singing “Twinkle Twinkle” on repeat so they would stop crying, others it was the fun day trips they took. As he thought harder, there were times that family members said Mat didn’t get talked as much as his sisters, but Henry hadn’t thought much of that. Mat was quieter, there wasn’t as much to report.

God, had he really been that stupid?

“But his attitude,” Henry tried to reason out loud. “He turned into…well…I don’t even know what.”

Alba threw her hands up in the air. “For God's sake Henry, just admit you dropped the ball and pick it back up. Dad didn't admit it and he didn't talk to your father for years. Is that really what you want to get out of all of this?”

“Of course not! I’m just trying to figure all of this out! For you, it’s been something you’re aware of for 27 years. For me, not so much.”

Belle put a hand up. “Okay, Alba I know you’re trying to help but you’re not. Henry’s right, he didn’t know. We can debate whether or not he should’ve later, but what’s important is, he does now.”

Alba sighed, perching herself on the desk, her purple top riding up a bit as she did. “You know more than anyone that college is a place to find yourself. For Mat, he was able to be his own person. He wasn’t one of the triplets or from a small town in Connecticut. He was just Mat. So…he developed. And yeah…that guy’s a bit full of himself…but it’s because outside a few people…no one else ever was.”

Henry stared down at his hands, tears in his eyes, feeling as though a million bricks had just fallen upon his head. How could he have made his own son feel like that? He had never wanted that for any of his kids. In his mind, he was always there for them. He and Jacinda had always said “Our door is open, we’re here for you.”

But how often had they actually opened their son’s and asked how he was doing?

“How am I supposed to fix this?” He mumbled. “It’s been 27 years.”

“That’s not impossible. You just have to show that you’re willing to put in the work and that there’s no magic fix,” Gideon pointed out. “Maybe talk to your own dad about it, ask how he felt about making up with Papa.”

Belle put a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “You’re lucky, Henry. You and your father never really had a huge falling out. The longest you ever went without talking was when you eloped behind his back and gave up the internship because of the triplets. That was a couple of weeks tops. Think about what you wanted most during that time from Neal.”

The tears were falling now and Henry couldn’t hold them back. “For him to just listen.”

“Then I think that’s where you have to start with Mat.”

#where you lead verse #glass believer #swanfire #papafire #rumbelle #henry mills #belle french #gideon gold #ouat #once upon a time

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bloodunderthebridge · 6 years

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The Magic of Postmodernism in How I Met Your Mother

We all know (and if you don’t, you should know) that How I Met Your Mother (HIMYM) is a comical t.v series that went off the air after its ninth and final season in 2014. But, for those of you who have not enjoyed the future storytelling plot that is HIMYM, here is a quick recap of what takes place in the t.v show composed of nine amusing seasons. The first main character is Ted. Ted is the guy who narrates the entire story to his teenage kids of how he met their mother. Ted tells the story of his journey to finding a wife in 2030 and each season takes the audience through another year of Ted trying to find his wife with his best friends/sidekicks adding to the drama prior to 2030. For the second, third, fourth and fifth characters, you’ve got Lily and Marshall who have been together since college, but have their ups and downs that result in marriage and a baby. You have Barney who has a sketchy job that makes an absurd amount of money and spends most of his time dating as many girls as possible while asking them out in extreme, impossible ways and then you have Robin. Robin brings her daddy issues, t.v broadcasting skills and rough Canadian lifestyle to the streets of New York City. Combined, these characters date each other, date an uncountable number of other people, succeed along with tons of failure and in the end, create a t.v show that reaches a large audience with its sarcastic tone and unrealistic, but relatable circumstances.

So now that I’ve throughly discussed the characters and their role in HIMYM (for those of you who have watched HIMYM and for those of you who's my detailed description is good enough), what comes to mind when we think of the show? Perhaps how uneventful and upsetting the end of the series was or how Barney and Robin should have never broken up and like why did Tracy have to die? Whatever the reason, it probably wasn’t the postmodern aspects of the t.v show. In-between Barney’s multiple conquests, Robin’s foreign Canadian phrases, Lily and Marshall’s never ending relationship and Ted’s seemingly forever lasting search for love are techniques typically used in postmodern works of literature and in this case, good t.v. But since there is a handful of ways in which HIMYM can be looked at through a postmodern lens, I’m going to focus on three specific techniques, metafiction, magical realism and intertextuality. Now although metafiction and intertextuality may sound boring in comparison to watching t.v and even though magical realism seems to entail more fun, each technique adds a level of depth to HIMYM.

T.V, I’m pretty sure everyone has watched it at least once, but what happens when we’ve watched all the shows that interest us, do we exit our box and try a new show or do we watch a series over again? I’m voting for the latter. Whenever I watch something for a second or third and sometimes a fourth time, I notice different things about the show or whatever episode I’ve re-watched. “I could have sworn that storm trooper wasn’t there before”, I notice the smaller details when I re-watch shows and that’s why looking at HIMYM while keeping the postmodern techniques in the back of my mind, helps understand the t.v series more accurately. It’s an underlying layer that you don’t notice at first, but contributes to how the show is perceived by the audience. Imagine HIMYM having modern aspects, rather than postmodern, would more or less people watch it? Would the meaning and perception change? My guess is yes, of course it would change because even though it’s only a small number of aspects that I am looking at, those small parts are what make up the whole and changing enough of those small parts will eventually change the whole.

Okay, so now that I’ve convinced you that looking at HIMYM through a postmodern lens is important, what specifically does metafiction, magical realism and intertextuality mean? Meta fiction is the act of writing about writing or making readers aware of the fictional nature of the very fiction they're reading, or in the case of HIMYM, when the characters know they are in a t.v show. This is commonly know as “breaking the fourth wall”. Magical realism is the introduction of impossible or unrealistic events into a narrative that is otherwise realistic which is pretty explanatory and an easy definition. And lastly, intertextuality is the acknowledgment of previous literary works within another literary work or when a t.v show references a movie or book or vice versa. Each of these three techniques are actively used in HIMYM and now that you know what they mean, time to dive into a close viewing of HIMYM.

Metafiction, breaking the fourth wall, if you will, is not something I am typically a fan of. I think some shows use it well, like Jane the Virgin, but than shows like House of Cards, I can’t stand, but then again, the majority of people I know like House of Cards, so maybe thats just me. Anyways, Jane the Virgin and House of Cards use metafiction many times throughout each episode, but that’s not the case in HIMYM. There are only a number of instances in the entire series of HIMYM where metafiction is used, it is a technique that is used in addition to many other techniques, but not alone. Okay so to give an example so everyone can see what I'm blabbing on about, I’ve looked at season eight, episode four titled “Who Wants to be a Godparent?”. In this episode, Lily and Marshal, now married and pregnant, are hosting a game-show-like competition between Ted, Barney and Robin to see who should be the Godparent of their first child. Towards the end of the scene, when the game is almost over, Marshall looks directly at the screen and says “we will be right back after a message from our sponsors” (00:11:40 - 00:11:50). This was a clear cut, easy example of meta fiction. Another example just for good measure, but not as obvious as my first example is in season seven, episode six, “Mystery vs. History”. Barney, Ted and Robin are all sitting on the couch in Ted’s apartment and Ted is rambling on about breaking the fourth wall in Annie Hall (this is also intertextuality, but that’s for later) and then, out of nowhere, Robin turns to the camera and says “can you believe this guy?” and motions her thumb in Ted’s direction. Personally, Robin breaking the fourth wall is my favourite out of the two just because it was less expected in that scene than in the other one, you know. Okay well, I think that’s enough about metafiction for now… on to magic……al realism!

When I first heard of magical realism, I thought, yes finally some magic being taught in university. This is not the case, but also it sort of is the case. Let me explain. Magical realism is when events and stuff happening in a t.v show or movie or whatever are unrealistic, but they are shown in a realistic setting, therefore making it somewhat believable to some people (maybe?). Now, magical realism is so important that even Oprah talked about in her book club. On Oprah’s website an article is posted saying “magical realism sets magical events in realistic contexts, thus requiring us to question what is "real," and how we can tell” (Parkinson Zamora), which is my opinion, nicely summarises why magical realism is like magic. So thank you Oprah for also seeing the importance of magical realism and talking about it, but now to bring the magic to life in HIMYM, we need to look at season seven, episode seven titled “Noretta”. I know I’ve already explained a bit about Barney’s role in the t.v show and if you’ve watched HIMYM, you already know for yourself, but Barney is addicted to asking as many women out as possible. Like I’m pretty sure that’s all he does, it is his life mission to sleep with a record number of people. Not the most attractive quality in a person/character, but it does make for good t.v. “Noretta” is a prime example of far Barney will go and magical realism all in one! Background: Barney is on a date with an attractive British women he has been dating. They have not slept together yet, but in episode seven, Barney was determined to change that. While skating, Barney’s date fell down on the ice and completely lost a tooth, but somehow Barney managed to convince his date to not give up on the night. After his date fell, Barney also looked up to the roof (aka the sky, aka God, aka magic) and said “I can turn this around” (00:05:40 - 00:06:11). Magical realism? Yes, an extreme example of it? No, but the saga continues, finally back at Barney’s apartment, they go on the balcony where Barney and his date witness a man jumping from a roof committing suicide. Barney again says, “I can turn this around” and despite his date crying “I want to go home”, he manages to win her over (00:09:30 - 00:10:12). What makes this magical realism, if it isn’t clear enough, is that Barney still managed to sleep with his date despite her losing a tooth (which must have been insanely painful and ugly to look at) and that she witnessed death. Those two things happening don’t really set the mood for most people. That is one example of an episode of HIMYM where there is magical realism, but you could find magical realism in probably more than half of the episodes of HIMYM because the technique is used too often when it comes to Barney’s character.

Now finally, we get to discuss intertextuality, my personal favourite. You may be thinking, why is intertextuality my favourite? Especially compared to a technique that is magic adjacent, but when I understand a reference to another movie or book, I just feel like I know more, you know. The important thing to note about intertextuality though is that “much of the show’s humour relies on the reader’s recognition of common tropes” (Levine 67). This directly relates to HIMYM because if the viewer doesn’t understand the reference, they may also miss the humour which would be unfortunate and HIMYM uses intertextuality as humour more often than not. To illustrate intertextuality in HIMYM, I am going to use Star Wars as an example. Star Wars is my all time favourite movie series and therefore I like to take every opportunity to force my obsession upon everyone else and lucky for me, it seems that the characters of HIMYM love Star Wars the same as me!! So here we go, example number one, season nine, episode seventeen, “Sunrise”, Ted argues with his fiancé about what CP30 is made of and he also mocks her by saying “You know what’s weird? Not seeing Star Wars until you’re thirty” (00:03:15 - 00:03:47). Example number two, season nine, episode fifteen, “Unpause”, Barney gets so drunk the night before his wedding he mimics Jabba the Hutt. Example number three, season nine, episode two, “Coming Back”, Barney speaks like Yoda to Marshall, “there is no try” (00:16:18 - 00:16:26). Example number four, just kidding, I won’t keep going with the Star Wars intertextuality references because if you don’t get the point by now, you probably won’t ever get it. That was rude, if you didn’t get the point though, its that if you don’t understand or know Star Wars, HIMYM won’t make any sense. Just kidding, but it definitely won’t be as funny.

We all know now that How I Met Your Mother is a comical t.v series that went off the air after its ninth season and that the producers of this t.v show employ the use of the postmodern techniques metafiction, magical realism and intertextuality. So if anyone ever asks you for examples of magical realism in HIMYM, hopefully now you will be able to give them at least one answer. But in all seriousness, looking at pop culture or anything with a certain lens in mind (in my case, postmodernism) helps read between the lines of whats going on. I find that closely viewing movies and t.v shows or even literature gives a different perspective and shows the layers that can be hidden and I encourage everyone to stop watching HIMYM for a good laugh, but to really learn from the show.

#himym

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anavoliselenu · 7 years

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Hiched chapter 2

And then the cancer diagnosis. Diagnoses, plural—first Mom in my freshman year of college, then Dad just last year.

But even though I’d had a front-row seat to Mom’s mortality, Dad’s still came as a shock. He’s as wise and proud as ever, and he puts up a brave front for the rest of us, but I can tell what the cancer is doing to him. I’ve been his daughter for twenty-six years; I know where to look. It’s those little moments, like when his hands shake when we talk about the future, or he gets that faraway look in his eyes.

Dad has so little time. Sometimes it’s still hard to remember that. All too soon, Rachel and I will be each other’s only remaining family. And my little sister sure as hell won’t run Tate & Cane Enterprises. She has never been interested in the business world; she loves fashion, not finance. Although maybe I should ask her advice on graphic design, for revamping our marketing campaign styles . . .

I frown into my sangria. Damn, I’m thinking as if Tate & Cane is already mine. As if I’ve subconsciously taken my responsibilities for granted.

Well, why shouldn’t I? Dad always told me that his seat would be mine someday. This company is my birthright. It’s Dad’s legacy—the hard-won fruit of all his blood, sweat, and tears. He shouldn’t spend his last days worrying about what will happen to it. And soon, this company will be all I have left of him. Assuming I actually manage to hold on to the damn thing.

Personal sentiment aside, T&C also employs over six thousand people. Six thousand lives that will be turned upside-down if our rivals take over.

Fuck. I can’t believe I’m even considering this ridiculous contract.

But my career is everything to me. It always has been. While other girls enjoyed normal social lives, I studied for hours every night. While they picked out homecoming dresses and sneaked booze from their parents’ liquor cabinets, I did internships. While they rushed sororities, I co-chaired my university’s Women Entrepreneurs Club. I aced every single one of my undergrad and MBA classes. No partying and barely any dating. I never coasted on Dad’s reputation; ever since I was old enough to understand what a huge responsibility waited in my future, I wanted to be ready for it.

Well, I’m ready now. I’ve worked hard all my life, and I’ve earned the right to prove myself as head of Tate & Cane. I’m confident that I can fill Dad’s shoes.

I can’t let Dad down. I can’t let my younger self down. This company is mine; the thought of losing it to a rival is even worse than the thought of Justin making suggestive comments at me for the rest of my life.

This company can’t slip through my fingers, so I won’t let it—even if that means I have to partner with Justin. Not just partner, but dear God, marry the son of a bitch. Our fathers must have gone temporarily insane when they wrote their wills. Then again, they always did have weird, old-fashioned ideas about dating and courtship.

But no situation is impossible. If I can just calm down and think clearly, an optimal solution will emerge. Any seemingly impossible goal can be managed by breaking it down into bite-sized component tasks.

I breathe deeply to calm myself and try to let my training take over.

Camryn has made two important points. First, both Justin and I want to save Tate & Cane Enterprises. This company is our birthright, our fathers’ legacy—and its employees are our responsibility. And second, this marriage is just another form of legal partnership. Which means it’s a contract open to negotiation.

Yes, it royally sucks that I’m not marrying for love. My closet romantic side cringes at the thought. But I try to set aside as much emotional baggage as I can. Not every marriage has to be like a Hollywood romance, after all. Justin and I don’t need to be in love with each other to successfully co-pilot a company.

The $100 billion question here is: How well would we work together?

Can we even get along? Will our partnership be stable and productive? Or will it implode . . . taking Tate & Cane down with us?

This decision doesn’t rest entirely on my shoulders. Our fathers have always said that we’re stronger together—that’s why they paired us off in the first place. So Justin ought to do some heavy lifting too. In fact, I could argue that it’s his job to convince me, since he’s already on board.

So, let him make his sales pitch. Let him prove himself to me. Let him demonstrate how and why this relationship could actually succeed. I’ll do my part too—I’ll try to maintain good faith and stay receptive to the idea of us becoming friends. But I’m not the type to commit to something unless I know I can follow through. If I’m going to marry Justin, then by God, I want to win at it.

The end of my inner debate must show on my face, because Camryn reaches across the table to squeeze my hand.

“I’m going to order us dessert.”

“I love you,” I say on a sigh. Even with my newfound determination, I’ll need some serious chocolate to get through this.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re really brave.”

I force a smile. “Thanks.”

Grumbling to myself, I fish my phone out of my purse and call Dad to schedule another meeting with Justin and Prescott. I have to give them my answer as soon as possible.

• • •

Late that afternoon, almost the close of the business day, I open the same conference room door I walked through yesterday. Nobody turns in response; the three men seated at the table have already looked up at the sound of my footsteps in the hall.

Justin’s crooked smile is just a little bit too smug. What was that you said earlier? Something about not marrying me? it seems to gloat. How’s that humble pie taste?

A muscle tenses in my jaw. He didn’t even have to say a word and I’m already irritated all over again. Goddamn it, he’s so annoyingly attractive—with his charcoal-gray suit, crisp white shirt, and merlot-colored tie, all expertly tailored to fit his six-foot-two frame—and the fact that he can get under my skin so easily just annoys me even more.

His entire demeanor screams confidence. From his deep, inquisitive eyes that see too much, to his strong hands with neatly trimmed nails, to the thick column of his throat that bobs when he smirks at me. He’s the thing my teenage fantasies were made of. Woodsy male scent. Muscular, yet trim frame. A quick wit that always finds a way to pull me into a debate.

Ignoring the pounding of my heart, I force my eyes away from Justin and address the room. “Thank you all for reconvening on such short notice. I have a proposal to make.”

“I thought that was my job,” Justin interjects.

Pointedly ignoring his joke, I explain. “I’ll sign the inheritance contract at the end of the month . . .”

Everyone blinks at me. Dad and Prescott look pleasantly surprised. Justin’s annoying smile is gone, replaced with a slightly furrowed brow.

“But only,” I continue, “if Justin can show me that a relationship between us could work. After all, Tate & Cane’s fate hinges on our ability to cooperate as both business partners and spouses.”

“A trial period?” Dad asks.

“You could describe it like that. I also think that getting to know each other better will help the company’s public image. We need to make our relationship believable; it’ll look strange if nobody ever sees us together before we marry.”

It’s also a chance to dip my toes in before diving straight into the deep end. An attempt to inject a little normality into a deeply abnormal situation.

But I don’t say that part out loud. I don’t want to admit right now that marriage still scares me a little. Not with Justin blinking curiously at me, and Prescott looking frustrated at the prospect of even further delays.

Justin finally speaks up. “So, essentially, you’re asking me to date you.”

I nod at him. “Yep, that’s the idea. At least take me out for a drink before I consider taking your name.” I look straight at him, waiting to see his reaction before I hit him with my next clause. “Oh, and another thing. Refrain from having sex . . . with anyone.”

Chapter Three

Justin

She wants me to woo her?

Of all the scenarios I imagined—from the most likely, where Selena rips up the contract, to the even crazier, where she actually signs it—this wasn’t one of them.

She’s laid down her own stipulations, ensuring that I’ll have to work to win her over. Though I probably should have expected a curveball. This is Selena Cane, after all.

“If there are no further questions, I should get back to work,” Selena says. When nobody responds, she turns and struts out of the conference room, her round ass swaying as her heels click across the floor. The door swings shut.

“That was interesting,” I say under my breath.

Fred stops beside me as I stand, trying to process what just happened. “It sounds like the ball’s in your court, son. But don’t worry. I know you can pull this off.”

“Thanks.” I nod, then take off toward her office. She doesn’t get to drop a bomb like that and then saunter away.

She’s inside, perched in her cream-colored leather chair, stilettos kicked off under her desk. Her toenails are painted light blue, and she’s tapping her foot in time to whatever tune she’s humming. Something on her computer screen has her complete attention.

Startled at the sound of the door opening, she looks up, her wide crystal-blue eyes finding mine. “Did you need something? I have work to do.”

She mentioned us going for a drink. Which is perfect, considering I need to prove how compatible we can be. But first, I need her to see something. This isn’t just some game; I need her to understand exactly what’s at stake if we don’t succeed.

“Come with me. There’s something I need to show you.”

I tug her up from her desk chair, allowing her a moment to slip her delicate feet back into her heels, then tow her from the office before she can argue.

“Where are you taking me?”

I grunt and mumble, “You’ll see.”

“Don’t be such a caveman; use your words.”

“We’re going to the mail room.”

She scoffs. “What on earth for?”

I don’t answer, just punch the button for the elevator. We cruise down to the basement floor of the building with an eerie silence hanging around us. When the doors open to the basement, I take a deep breath.

“Ahh . . . you smell that?” I grin at her.

Her mouth turns down into a frown. “Mildew?” Her gaze darts around the large open space stacked with boxes. “The health department would have a field day down here.”

This is my favorite place in the whole building, so I don’t take too kindly to Selena turning up her nose at it. “Don’t be such a grouch. Come on.”

I lace my fingers with hers once again and tug her farther down the fluorescent-lit hallway. When we reach the mail room, I wonder for a moment if Rosita is on her break.

“Now, what is it that you wanted to show me?” Selena raises her eyebrows and places one hand on her hip, obviously not impressed.

Wide shelves line all four walls. They’re numbered with the corresponding floors of the building and hold various envelopes and packages. It’s not a high-tech operation, but it gets the job done.

“Not what, but who.” I tip my chin toward the Latina cheerfully humming a tune to herself. Rosita’s back is to us as she sorts mail at the far end of the room.

“Rosita,” I call out.

She swivels around, clearly not expecting anyone, and her shoulder-length hair swings. A look of surprise is painted across her pleasant features, especially her large dark brown eyes, and a hint of pink comes to her round cheeks.

Rosita immigrated here from Mexico when she was just eighteen, taught herself English, and worked hard to support her growing family. Now, she’s a force to be reckoned with.

A company of this size usually employs a mail-room staff of three to four people. But Rosita said they’d just get in her way, so she runs the whole operation herself. She took ownership of both the position and the space, and made it hers—even hung cheery posters on the wall. One of a monkey dancing. Another of bright orange poppies.

“Mi amor!” she cries, already heading toward us. “Abrazo.” She opens her arms to me, expecting our customary hug.

“Gracias, Mamacita,” I reply, giving her a light squeeze.

It’s the same way she’s been greeting me for the past six years. I know about a whopping four words of Spanish, but I always use them with her. I want her to feel at home, I guess.

Coincidentally, Rosita and I started work here on the same day. We even attended orientation together. I was a fresh college grad, still wet behind the ears, and Rosita, fifteen years my elder, was skeptical about the owner’s son. Unlike Selena, I haven’t worked here since I could walk. I had other jobs during college and made a point of interning at another firm so I could see how the competition worked.

When I met her, I thought Rosita might assume I was some rich, privileged punk who didn’t have to earn his paycheck. It made me all the more determined to prove her wrong. And Dad always was big on learning the ropes from the ground up, anyway. So for my first two weeks at Tate & Cane, I began working right alongside Rosita in the mail room.

It was during that time we cemented our relationship. We delivered packages and memos side by side, and shared jokes and stories. But when I really fell in love was when she shared her empanadas with me at lunch.

Rosita’s eyes widen slightly as they swing from mine to Selena’s. “Miss Cane,” she says, her voice soft and quizzical. It’s not every day the CEO’s daughter wanders down to the mail room.

“Please, call me Selena,” she says, correcting Rosita with a smile meant to ease. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Everyone at the company knows Selena, even if they haven’t met.

“Did you . . . need something?” Rosita looks between me and Selena again.

I shake my head. “Nope. Just came to say hello.”

Rosita’s posture relaxes and she smiles. “Did you get my invite for Maria’s birthday party?”

“Of course. Two weeks from Saturday, right? It’s already on my calendar.”

“Have you had lunch yet?” She smiles and reaches out to smooth one hand over my silk tie. “I worry, you know.”

I smile. “I’ve eaten. Thank you.”

Sometimes when I’m busy, I’ve been known to skip lunch—that is, until Rosita forces herself into my office with a sandwich from the deli down the street. It’s like she can sense when I’ve missed a meal. She often blurs the line between coworker, friend, and mother.

I’ve brought Selena down here today because I want her to see there’s more to this company than what the numbers say. Some things can’t be learned from a spreadsheet. The perspective Selena has perched in her corner office chair all day is quite different from the perspective one gets on the ground floor of this operation.

Standing here, looking into Rosita’s rich mahogany eyes and feeling the warmth and care that pours from her very soul, it’s impossible for us not to be aware of the importance of our responsibility. We can’t fail at this. If we fail, we take all these people down with us.

And I, for one, won’t let that happen.

After pleasantries are exchanged, Selena and I head back toward the elevator.

“She’s important to you, isn’t she?” Selena asks.

“Very.”

She nods, looking contemplative.

I check my watch as we step inside the elevator and let out a sigh. Selena looks as overwhelmed as I feel. We’ve been under a mountain of stress lately, and I have a feeling it’s only going to get more intense.

“Today was unexpected,” I say. “Just like that, after weeks of negotiation, you’re actually going to consider this, huh?”

“I will do this on my terms, if and when I’m ready, Justin. Consider the next few weeks a trial period.”

“That will be easy, sweetheart.”

“Oh, it won’t be easy,” she says, correcting me. “And don’t call me sweetheart.”

“Are you sure about that, Mrs. Tate?”

“I told you not to call me that, either.”

“I know. You told me to take you out for a drink before you’ll consider taking my name.” I smirk at her. “Which I think is an excellent fucking idea. Brilliant, in fact.”

I coax my first smile from her and feel like thumping my chest. Although I have a desk full of work to get back to, the idea of sitting across from Selena and hearing her tell me about this supposed trial period sounds like a lot more fun. Time to push a little harder.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere, you know.”

“We’ve had a lot going on. I think we could use a cocktail,” she says, amazing me that she actually agreed.

“I’ll meet you in the lobby in fifteen?” I know she’ll never agree to leave without wrapping up the last of her e-mails.

“Sure.”

Then I watch her ass as she saunters away toward her office.

• • •

Once we’re seated at the elegant Stanton Room, a swanky bar across the street from our office building, Selena and I place our order with the waitress—a vodka martini, extra dirty for her, and a Scotch on the rocks for me.

“Extra dirty, huh?” I wink at her.

“Surprised?” There’s a hint of a smile on her lips.

“That the straitlaced Selena Cane likes it extra dirty? Why, yes, I am.”

“Don’t overthink it, Justin. I’d hate to see you burst a brain cell.”

I scowl at her. If there’s one thing Selena and I do well, it’s banter. And though she’d like to believe otherwise, sexual tension runs rampant just below the surface.

I lean in toward her, my elbows on the table. “So, how will all this work, exactly? Me and you? I just like to be clear on expectations so I can exceed them.”

Her gaze is cool. Not icy, at least, but still a long way from where I want her. “Well, I haven’t put a lot of thought into it yet, but you’ll have to win me over. Show me that this crazy thing could actually work.”

If there’s one thing I know about Selena, it’s that she refuses to fail. Something tells me that with everything that’s on the line, Selena needs to know I won’t fuck up and embarrass her as a husband. We have to work together, live together, and actually pull off this whole coupledom in a big way.

“So you said you want to date? I don’t date, Snowflake.”

“Winning over doesn’t necessarily mean dating.”

She takes a sip from her martini glass and sets it down with an inquisitive look on her delicate features. She may look like your average, sweet girl next door, but at her core, Selena is a ballbuster. A total triple threat. Sexy, intelligent, and talented. Which is perfect, seeing as those are the qualities I always dreamed my future wife would possess. Well, those, along with a tight—

Selena clears her throat, interrupting my train of thought. Fuck.

“Winning over means that we can be in the same room together without ripping each other’s throats out.”

I nod. “Okay, we’ll be civilized about it.”

“Fine,” she says. “And we should figure out what the hell we have in common.”

I think we already know what we have in common—and to my understanding, it’s a long list. But I’ll go by whatever definition she wants. I’ll win no matter what it is.

“Seeing as we have to put on a show, I agree. I should know a bit about my future fiancée,” I say. “For instance, your favorite sexual position . . .”

She coughs and sputters, choking on the olive in her drink. For a minute there, I think I’m going to have to perform the Heimlich maneuver, until she swallows the damn thing and glares at me.

“What does that have to do with anything?” she croaks out, her voice still hoarse.

I chuckle. “Settle down. I just want to know how to please my future wife, is all.”

“You can please me by buckling down and getting to work at the office instead of taking those three-martini lunches you favor.”

“Darling?” I blink at her. Since I’ve been told by more than one ex-girlfriend that my eyelashes are enviable, I’m hoping it has the exaggerated effect I’m going for. “We were supposed to be discussing what we have in common.”

“Right. Well . . .” She begins listing items on her fingers. “Summering in the Hamptons. Working at Tate & Cane, obviously. Our families are friends.”

“We both lost our mothers,” I point out.

Her gaze drops to the table in front of her, but I don’t feel bad. It’s just a fact of life, one we’ve discussed before, and I’d rather skip the superficial bullshit and get down to a real level.

“Yes. What else?” She drums her fingers on the table.

“I, for one, like anal. You?”

Damn it. Again with the choking. I stand and pat my future fiancée’s back until her airway clears.

“Another drink?” I ask, noticing that hers is now empty.

She looks flustered that she downed it so quickly, but signals to the waitress for another round.

“I know what I’m getting myself into, Justin. Besides, my focus is going to be on saving this company, not pretending to be the happy little wife to my fake husband.”

“Correction.” I lean closer. “Soon to be real husband. I’ll win you over, Snowflake. This will happen.”

Chapter Four

Selena

Win me over, Justin says. Real husband.

There’s nothing real about this. He can call this trial period “dating” if he wants, but all I’m after is reassurance that we’ll mesh as co-CEOs. No need to confuse the issue with love or sex, no matter how dangerously attractive he is. I just have questions that need answers.

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