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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨1

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) nothing as yet.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: Yay, mob Clark. And I know what you’re saying right now, enough with Clark Kent! I get it haha. Promise, for a while, this will be the last I do of him. I have Lee fic in the work right now, the early development of medieval Peter, and I’m still sitting on some Loki ft. an exchange student... and then all my other series of course!

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You stood against the wall, chewing your lip as you looked around the gallery. You should be ecstatic, you should be floating around on a cloud, but all you could feel was crushing anxiety. It was truly a dream come true; your art hanging on the wall. Only three pieces, but it was there, and your name was below it in print.

You tugged on the waist of your dress and teetered in your heels. It was a borrowed outfit, you couldn’t afford anything appropriate to the upscale venue. The classic starving artist, or almost. You slipped your phone from your purse and up your sleeve. You subtly checked the time and for the little chat icon in the corner. Still no message.

Marcus was almost an hour late. He texted just after the event opened to warn you he was caught up with work but you worried he wouldn’t show up at all. It wasn’t his fault his boss was a jackass but you weren’t prepared to face this alone. You dropped your phone back into your slender purse and snapped it shut.

Vanessa, the gallery owner, made you flinch as she appeared almost out of the air. You smiled at her shyly and stopped chewing your lip.

“You should mingle,” she said, “you have an interested buyer. You might have a few more if you come out from the corner.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so nervous,” you confessed, “I-- thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“You earned it,” she touched your arm daintily, “all those hard hours working the back room, I couldn’t not hang a few pieces.”

You fixed your posture and tried to seem as confident as her. Your income came solely from hours of at-home data entry as you volunteered at the gallery in your few hours between. It was all worth it and maybe if you sold something tonight, Vanessa would feature you work again and you wouldn’t need to spend the bulk of your days staring at tiny font.

“So, where’s this buyer?” you asked hopefully.

“That’s my girl,” Vanessa trilled, “he seems very interested.”

She led you across the room, stopping to greet other artists and old friends with a kiss on the cheek and deep laughter. You’d met them all before as you were often working at these events. It was your first time as one of them.

When at last you neared your little stretch of the wall, a man stood with his head slightly back as he stared at your proto-renaissance portraits. He was tall and his broad shoulders strained the rich fabric of his jacket. His dark hair was neatly parted and a slight curl marked the front above the shadow of scruff poking out along his jawline.

“Mr. Kent,” Vanessa chimed, “I found her.”

He turned to look at you and his deep blue eyes struck you. He smiled between you and the gallery owner, his chiseled jaw even more defined by the gesture.

“This is Mr. Kent,” she introduced you in turn, “I believe he was interested in the larger piece.”

“All three, if you don’t have another buyer lined up,” he intoned, “I think they belong together.”

“All of them?” you raised your brows, “well, I, yeah, I guess--”

“We can put something together for you,” Vanessa interrupted your awkward stuttering, “let me just mark them.”

She took the silver pen she kept on a chain around her wrist and scribbled in the corner of the tags to mark them as sold. You were slightly numb at your disbelief. You were a bit reluctant to part with your work but the check would ease your grief.

“The way you use colours,” he said as he faced the paintings again, “I’ve recently had some work done in my house and I hate the sight of naked walls.”

“Thank you,” you said as you stepped a little closer and looked at your delicate strokes.

“Pardon me,” Vanessa rushed away as she beckoned to one of her assistants and prattled orders.

“Vanessa tells me you’re a new artist,” he said.

“New in a sense,” you said, “I guess, I’m officially an artist now.”

“Oh? I’m flattered. Your first buyer?”

“Besides some online fanart, yeah,” you replied, “so, Mr. Kent, what do you do?”

“Clark,” he corrected, “and a little bit of everything.”

An awkward silence took over and was thankfully interrupted by your name. You turned as Marcus rushed over and his shoes slipped on the polished floor. He reached you and kissed your cheek as he caught his breath.

“I’m so sorry, I got caught in traffic on the way over and then my oil light started flashing,” he gasped out.

“Hey, you’re here,” you rubbed his shoulder and straightened his tie without thinking as it hung at an angle.

“So, you sell anything yet?” he asked.

“Yes, actually, um, Mr-- Clark,” you gestured to the man standing patiently to the side, “he just bought all three.”

“Damn,” Marcus said, “guess I can hold onto my savings.”

“Marc,” you nudged his arm with your knuckles, “you know we can’t afford your cheesiness.”

“Sorry, uh,” Marcus laughed at himself, “I’m Marcus.”

He held out his hand and Clark shook it. His eyes strayed to you as his features sharpened just a little.

“You two…?” he ventured.

“Five years,” Marcus announced, “guess we’re going steady.”

“Oh,” Clark nodded placidly, “are you an artist too?”

“God no, I can hardly write my own name legibly,” Marcus kidded, “I’m a developer.”

“Computers,” Clark mused.

“Yeah, computers,” Marcus scoffed, “and you?”

“Own a couple businesses,” Clark shrugged.

“Must be successful if you can hang around here,” Marcus said and you elbowed him in embarrassment.

“I guess,” Clark smoothed his dark purple jacket and checked his watch, “I’ll let you two be. Maybe I’ll find something to go with these fine pieces.”

“Thank you,” you said sweetly, “I’m happy to see my work go to a good home.”

“I hope to see more in future,” he returned kindly.

He turned and carried on to the statue constructed of can tabs and greeted another suited man. You looked at Marcus as he leaned in to read the tags beneath your paintings. He stood and looked at you with wide eyes.

“Holy shit, ten grand?” he hissed.

“Pretty good pay for one night,” you chirped, “glad you could make it.”

“Sorry again, I… I had to redo some code. Adam was in a mood so,” he shook his head and sighed, “let’s not talk about it. Let’s celebrate.” He peeked over at the server with a tray of stemmed flutes, “and you can decide what you’re going to buy me with that check.”

“Hush,” you chided as you took a glass of champagne, “now is not the time to go over bills.”

🎨

At the end of the night, you watched one of the assistants take down your canvas and you helped wrap them in paper and twine. As you finished a loopy knot, you were surprised by the figure beside you. You looked up and set the smallest piece atop the larger ones. Clark smiled as you moved to let him pick them up.

“All yours,” you said, almost mournful to see them go.

“Thanks,” he said as he tucked them easily under his thick arm, “I forgot earlier but do you have a card? Are you open for commissions?”

“You must have a lot of walls,” you looked down and opened your purse, “I have a card and I could try a commission.”

You slid out one of the cards that had lingered in your wallet for more than a year. You handed it to him and he read the flowery font before tucking it away in his jacket.

“I do… have a lot of walls,” he said with a smirk, “I’ll give you a call once these are hung.”

“O-okay,” you kept from wringing your hands and closed your purse, “thank you… again.”

“My pleasure,” assured, “have a good night.”

“Yeah, good night,” you said and watched him go.

You let out a breath and smiled to yourself. You would talk to Vanessa and get your cut of the check before you went. Then you could worry about getting Marcus home. He’d had a little too much champagne and you’d left him in the backroom so you could help with the clean-up.

Vanessa bid goodbye to one of her featured artists as you neared. She turned to you and threw up her hands in delight.

“Wonderful, darling,” she said, “you earned that wall.”

“Thanks,” you grinned bashfully.

“Really. That man has never bought a piece before,” she smirked, “I’ve been dying to get into his wallet for years.”

“I never saw him before…”

“Oh, well, yes, he has not been to many of these either. I often see him at other galleries,” she explained, “I hope you have some more for the next.”

“Um, yeah, I should be able to--”

“I’ll have the check for you tomorrow,” she patted your shoulder as her eye was caught by another, “go get your boyfriend out of my studio.”

You accepted your dismissal and turned on your heel. That was just Vanessa, steely but slightly flighty as well. Besides, you were exhausted and you would likely be dragging Marcus into a cab.

You found him slumped at the paint-splattered table. You shook him awake and smiled dopily as he opened his eyes.

“Babe,” he pushed his arm around you.

“Marcus,” you drawled in disappointment, “let’s get out of here.”

“Huh?” He looked around and hiccupped, “oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You had a long day,” you assured him as you rubbed his back and let him lean on you as he stood, “I’m just happy you showed up after all that nonsense.”

“Of course, babe,” he slurred and you helped him through the door.

You kept your head down as you slowly sneaked out past Vanessa but you didn’t miss her side-eye. It was best to be as covert as possible. You came out through the door and nearly dropped Marcus.

“Jesus, can I get a little help?” you snipped as you looked around for a yellow cab.

“Sorry, baby, sorry,” he got his feet flat but it hardly helped take his weight off of you.

You raised your hand to hail a cab and he slipped down your arm. Your ankle bent as you turned to try to catch him before you dropped him entirely. He was saved from hitting the ground as he was caught by another. You looked over his head as he was pushed up to his feet again.

Clark kept his arm behind Marcus as you stared at him, “oh my god, thank you.”

“No problem,” he said as he steadied your boyfriend, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied as you lifted your foot and kept the weight off your ankle, “I just need to get a taxi.” You raised your hand again as you tried to see past the large man, “if you don’t mind getting him in--”

“You can ride with me,” he said brusquely as he turned with Marcus and peered back at you, “this way.”

“We can’t--”

“On that ankle,” he said as you began to limp after him, “you won’t get him out on your own.”

“Really, I’m fine--”

“I don’t mind,” he said coolly as he came to a silver sports car and balanced Marcus against him as he opened the door, “I’ll need an address.”

“Uh, oh,” you folded your hands, “thank you. Really, you’ve done too much.”

“It happens. I’ve had these nights,” he put Marcus across the seat and folded his legs up and shut the door, “you can take the front and tell me where I’m going.”

You hesitated and he opened the front door. You neared and hissed as you stumbled on your ankle. You caught yourself on his arm and quickly retracted your hand as you apologized.

“It’s alright,” he said as you sat in the front seat. He knelt and gently took your ankle. His thumb rubbed the swollen joint, “you really banged yourself up.”

“I’ll be okay,” you assured him, “thanks.”

He let go and stood. He waited for you to turn your legs into the car and gently closed the door. He rounded to the other side and got in as he fished around for his keys. He turned the engine and gripped the wheel with one hand as he took out his phone. He placed it on the magnetic holder and his fingers flicked over the screen.

“Address?” he asked.

You recited it and winced as Siri responded, ‘calculating route’. You shrunk against the luxury leather and glanced at him. He let out a huff and steered into the mostly empty street.

“I’m sorry about all this--”

“No, don’t be,” he glanced in the rearview, “he must be happy for you.”

“Yeah, uh, I think he is,” you said as he followed the map directions, “I am too. I mean, it will go along way… uh, well, you know, things can be tough or--” you shrugged, “I mean, it’s not about the money.”

“Yeah, but it’s nice to be paid,” he said lightly, “and I don’t mind paying for good art.”

You looked out the window as your cheeks burned. You could smell his cologne, subtle but strong. You played with your purse as your nerves brewed in your chest. You watched the sidewalks and the street lights as your surroundings grew more familiar.

He pulled up to your building. It wasn’t the greatest area and the brick façade was faded and cracked. Before you could get out, he was at your door. He offered his hand and helped you out as you leaned on the car. He let you go and opened the back and lifted Marcus out. He hooked your boyfriend’s arm over his shoulder and offered his other arm.

“Come on,” he said.

“Look, you don’t-- there’s an elevator.”

“I’d feel better if I got you inside,” he insisted, “especially in this area.”

You relented and took his arm and limped beside him up the steps. You took out your keys and went ahead of him as he dragged Marcus in. You went to the elevator and hit the button. The doors glided open and you stepped inside. He stood close in the small metal box and Marcus murmured dumbly at his side.

The doors dinged and he let you out first. He followed you down the hall and you unlocked your apartment and waved him inside. He carried Marcus to the couch at your direction and you leaned against the armchair as you bent your leg to check your ankle.

“You should put some ice on that,” Clark said as he neared, “get some sleep yourself.”

“Yeah, I will,” you assured, “thank you, again.”

You felt embarrassed as you eyed his expensive suit and looked around your tiny apartment. It must have been laughable to him. He hardly seem bothered as he retreated to the door.

“I’ll let you then,” he said, “and thank you. I really do like your work.”

The door shut in his stead and you heard his footsteps down the long hall until the door at the end swung open. You glanced at Marcus and shook your head. You weren’t as happy to have had him at the show then.

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #fic #series #mob au #mob!au #mob!clark kent #portrait of a dangerous man #dark fic #dark!fic #superman #au #dc #dcu

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bedrock-to-buildheight · 3 years

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Anon asks

I also received a bunch of compliments in asks which I appreciate very much, but in the interest of not posting a bunch of variations on "thank you" I won't be answering those asks

Yo uh. I‘m trying to upload a comic to..somewhere but I don’t know where to yet, do you have any tips with Webtoons or Tapas? Both the websites scare me but I’m not sure about uploading elsewhere..

Oookay I've only been uploading for 2 months so you might be better off asking the forums on those sites/reddit but here's what I've learned

Put aside a few hours to check all the sizing of thumbnails, icon, banners, pages whatever the site requires and make some canvases to those measurements. Basically do the boring numbers task in one go

Both platforms are not all that good at promoting new comics that aren't their originals so you're gonna have to do the promo yourself if you want the numbers. Tapas is a little better

If you're scheduling pages on Tapas you're gonna need a timezone calculator bc that thing is stuck in EST

In my experience I've got a lot more views in Webtoons, so if that's what you're in for then go for it

Again, these are my thoughts and I recommend doing more research. Good luck with your comic!

Audrey really isn’t a good person huh

I really can't answer that bc it's like asking if hacking is good or bad. But she is necessary

hello! ive got a private mc worldbuilding project, and am in love with your idea of villagers being shapeshifters - is it ok if i take inspo from that? i thought itd be neat if my villagers were based on animals but i got the inspo from u so i wanna make sure its ok :o

Go right ahead fam I don't own the concept of mob-based villagers anyway

have you ever checked out someone playing minecraft in vr to get inspiration for what it's like to really stand in this world?

Aside from Techno's, I haven't, bc 1. I don't feel like the scale translates properly (yes a block is 1 cubic meter but it doesn't feel like that) 2. The movements are awkward

Have you seen the catboy Steve official art yet-

I DID lakfksksk whoever owns that and the herobrine acc are doing great

#ask bedrock

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lovelylogans · 3 years

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the warmest hello (to the coldest goodbye)

once a spy, always a spy forever, forever the warmest hello to the coldest goodbye remember, remember -spies are forever, the tin can bros

warnings: undercover spy work, mention of weapons, drugging someone into unconsciousness/giving someone a roofie, essentially the start of an enemies to lovers fanfiction

pairings: virgil/logan, offscreen roman/patton

words: 4,465

notes: this is for day 7 of @analogicalweek! the prompt of the day is “free day” and i have decided to write a combination soulmates and rival spies au! please enjoy!

⁂

Not that Virgil would admit it, but, like literally every other marked person, he's tried to imagine how he might meet his soulmate. He just didn't ever spare any thought on what he'd do if it happened on the job.

His official cover to his friends (which was mostly his cousin Roman and Roman’s husband Patton) was that he was an analyst—he was always vague about what exactly it was he analyzed, but since neither of them were particularly mathematically inclined, and both were maybe a bit too trusting for their own good, they took him at his word.

Even when he was sent off on various unusual "business trips.”

It’s not like Virgil’s mark is very specific about when and where it’ll happen. Virgil knows that variations of "sorry about that” make for a large percentage of common soulmarks.

There’s protocols in place, of course, but Virgil had never really paid attention to those classes while training to be a spy. The Lewis clause is the kind of thing Virgil didn’t pay as much attention to, because it didn’t seem as useful as understanding the technology or how to make a cover. The Lewis clause is what to do when someone meets a soulmate on the job—there are specifications for if the soulmate is a target, a team member, or an enemy.

Virgil hadn’t really cared at the time. He’d kick himself for that later.

Any number of meetings occurred accidentally—knocking something over, bumping into someone, or, like his cousin Roman's soulmate did, take Roman's coffee thinking it was his own hot chocolate. They got married two winters ago, just so they could serve hot beverages in cold weather.

He thinks the iteration stamped in black along his left inner arm, "I'm very sorry about this," with the addition of "oh no, it's you” tacked on at the end of his makes it likely that whatever he says will, A, likely be first, B, be somewhat unique, or unique enough to be immediately recognizable, and C, be in the aftermath of some kind of accident.

He ends up being partially right. What he says is first and it is somewhat unique. What his soulmate apologizes for is no accident, though.

Virgil does undercover work, sure, but it's very rare for him to enter the James Bond style locale he's at today, and that he’s been working for the past couple months; the marble ballroom he's circling is dripping with gold chandeliers and matching heavy, velvet curtains that accent the floor-to-ceiling windows. There’s a string quartet in the corner, barely audible over the chatter of rich socialites. Virgil, deeply uncomfortable in his white-tie attire, is circling the room in an attempt at looking like he attends charity balls all the time.

He sucks at it.

As if on cue, his earpiece crackles to life.

"How the fuck did you ever qualify to be a spy?" Janus, his tech man and eye in the sky, snickers into his ear. "Your acting skills are horrendous. If you auditioned for The Room right now, they wouldn't let you into the cast.”

"Fuck off,” Virgil fake-coughs into his shoulder.

"Christ, at least try to look like you're mingling, not like you've stalked the target here."

Unable to stop himself, he glances toward the target he's meant to be watching.

The target, who is so staggeringly wealthy it could make Virgil, who is trying to pay off his student debt on a spy's salary (not as high as one might think) burst into tears. Or, much more likely, start ranting about the myriad flaws of capitalism. If so inclined, he could honestly probably steal the amount of money necessary from one of her offshore accounts, and it would be as unnoticeable as someone taking a penny from him.

Mary Lee Truman is standing amidst a flock of suited men, like a dove amidst a flock of dour crows; her dress is slinky silk, a shade of champagne that glimmers rose-gold in the right shade of light. She’s standing leaned to one side, her hip popped out and an arm crossed over her stomach, a crystal-cut champagne flute dangling in her fingers as if she was born to hold one.

Her husband, Lee Truman (fuck if that wasn’t confusing, it was really easier to think of them by their codenames) is off by the bar, seemingly getting himself another drink.

His eyes stray to Mary Lee again; he can tell a couple of the suits are hired muscle, bodyguards, which makes sense, as the Trumans are allegedly a massive crime family, doing their dirty dealings in plain sight. A couple of the suits he recognizes from dossiers; one is a business partner of Lee’s father, who might not even know what the Truman family really gets up to; one absolutely knows what the Truman family gets up to, as Virgil’s read his rap sheet and knows he’s been in and out of jail due to his assignments from the mob.

There’s one suit there that really doesn’t seem to fit the mold of either category.

For one thing, he’s around Virgil’s age; for another, he isn’t rippling with muscle. Not that he doesn’t look fit; his well-tailored suit shows off his broad shoulders, his biceps, his lean waist. He’s dark-haired, and pale, and blue-eyed, and he’s standing next to Mary Lee with a look that Virgil would think of as dour, but now that he’s looking closely, the blue-eyed man looks almost... calculating.

This man wasn’t in the dossier.

Almost everyone at this ball was in the dossier.

Virgil looks away from Mary Lee and the handsome man, and instead decides to start taking up Janus’ advice; he slowly moves through the room.

Well. He's doing it to get closer to Mary Lee, but sure, he can attempt to mingle.

He traverses through the room, his fancy shoes clicking on the marble floor, mindful to not step on any dress hems—he has it easy, as his directive was simply to wear his white tie with his hidden weapons, his ear piece, and his lapel pin that records everything he's seeing. The women in the room provide the only splashes of color outside of the black suits and white shirts of the men, the gleaming marble, the gold- accented glasses and dishware. Even what little art he's seen follows that color theme -- white marble busts, abstract black and white paintings in their gilded frames, a gold statue outside the front steps, as if to greet the partygoers.

But the women of the party aren't beholden to this strict color scheme. Gowns of pink chiffon, red lace, blue taffeta, deep violet velvet, Virgil passes them all, keeping one eye out for rose gold silk.

He ends up instituting himself in a ring of people listening intently to an art history professor talking about the architectural significance of his building—he introduces himself with his cover name, James Walker, to the man next to him, who Virgil already knows is a Truman cousin. He gives a fake first name too—he says his name is Alex, when Virgil knows it’s really Bruce. Okay. Something to take note of.

He listens to the art history professor talk about art deco with just one ear, the other straining to eavesdrop on Mary Lee and her suits.

“Do you think our beneficiary approaches?” Mary Lee murmurs to the blue-eyed one, the one that wasn’t in the dossier.

“Oh, I know he does,” the blue-eyed man says to her. He has a pleasant British accent, the kind of voice that would be right at home on a nature documentary calmly narrating the eating habits of wolverines, or something like that. “According to all my research, our previous beneficiary is no longer within our purview. A new one will have been instilled in hasty time. As a matter of fact, I believe I would be able to point him out to you right now.”

Mary Lee sighs, a little, and the man continues talking about their charity. Virgil’s mind races. He knows the Truman’s “charity work” almost always acts as a sieve to run dirty money through, so what would it mean, that they got a new beneficiary? A new target, maybe? A new directive?

Either way, this is almost definitely some kind of code they’re talking in. He tunes a bit more into the art history professor’s impromptu lecture—he’s taking a brief tangent into talking about Tamara de Lempicka—as he ruminates on that particular conversation between the blue-eyed Brit and Mary Lee.

Then he ends up in conversation with an elderly woman beside him, who wants to know who he is—James Walker, I run a business a state or two over, I’m interested in diversifying my assets—and if he’s been to any art museums in town. Both he and the man he is meant to be have not, but it turns out she’s a curator and has numerous suggestions for him.

He also knows this woman, Ida Kelly, has been paying into the Truman business for quite some time, and has potentially ordered hits using the Truman’s muscle.

“Madam,” a suited waiter shows up at her side, as if on cue, and hands her a small glass full of what looks like a gin-and-tonic.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” she says, taking her drink immediately.

The waiter turns to him. There is a singular champagne flute on the tray. “Sir.”

“I didn’t order anything,” Virgil says stupidly, before he realizes that almost everyone here is taking champagne flutes off of trays, and he supposes this waiter just wants to clear his before he has to double back and get more. “Oh, all right.”

He takes it. It’s a delicate, crystal-cut glass. He’s almost a little afraid that if he holds it wrong, it’ll break.

“Really, we’re doing an Impressionism exhibit, and it is positively divine,” she says.

Very suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder, emanating warmth through his suit and Virgil jumps, a little—he hopes whoever it is didn’t feel one his knives. Or, God forbid, his gun.

He turns to see no one, when a hand touches his opposite arm, and he turns again. It turns out to be the blue-eyed Brit, who is staring only at Ida, brushing past him, allowing his hand to trail down Virgil’s arm, touching his hand as if to say, please stay there, I do not want to bump into you.

At such a close range, Virgil can smell his absolutely incredible cologne, see his defined jawline, the way his blue eyes gleam.

Ida brightens. “Darling!”

“Ida,” the Brit says warmly. “I visited that display myself, it was simply wonderful.”

“Oh, you’re too kind,” she says, clearly drinking up the praise. Virgil looks between them, feeling even more awkward than he has all night.

“Wait a goddamned minute,” Janus murmurs in his ear, after such a long stretch of silence that it makes Virgil jump again. There’s the sound of rapid typing.

“A victory!” The man says, lifting his glass—it looks to be full of whiskey. “A toast, to your latest triumph.”

“Oh, now,” she says, but when the other surrounding suits start lifting their glasses, Virgil lifts his, as well.

“To Ida Kelly,” the Brit says. “One of the finest artistic minds to walk the earth at our time!”

Virgil takes a sip of his champagne at the same time as everyone else; another woman in a deep green gown with a shawl edged in feathers takes Ida’s arm, rhapsodizing about the Impressionism movement and the latest event that her art gallery had put on.

It takes about a minute for Virgil to notice his vision going blurry in the corners.

It takes him about ten seconds of blinking hard and rubbing his eyes, hoping to clear it, to stumble over his own two feet.

It takes five seconds for Janus’ voice to buzz to life in his earpiece, urgent, “Virgil, get out of there, get away from that man, that’s Lo—”

It takes him about two seconds after that to notice that the blue-eyed Brit is looking at him with an expression clearly lacking remorse.

It takes him about half a second to realize the finger tapping one shoulder, his hand at his hand—the same hand that had been holding his champagne flute. He hadn’t been looking at his drink. The Brit had made him turn away from his drink.

The Brit put something in his drink.

Virgil’s been made.

“Good God, man,” another suited man says, when Virgil stumbles over his own two feet, “had enough of the bubbly, have you?”

Virgil ignores him; even as his vision is growing blurrier and blurrier, his eyes are intent on the Brit, staggering towards him, and he doesn’t even really know why. He’s been made, he should be running, but—

"Did you just fucking poison me, you fucking asshole?" Virgil slurs, and his sudden lack of physical control resoundingly answers the question before the Brit can; the arms that catch him before he can full flat on his face are muscular and warm. He’s distantly aware of the crystal-cut grass slipping from his hand and shattering on the marble.

The warm, muscular arms are more pressing than that. And, for a dirty rotten criminal who has probably killed people, the man is quite handsome. His bespectacled face swims in Virgil's vision.

"'I'm very sorry about this," he says smoothly, before his eyes widen in alarm. "Oh no.”

As Virgil is on the verge of unconsciousness, he hears, "It's you."

His last three thoughts before he slips under: did he just fucking say what he thought he said, then, good God his eyes are so blue, then, fuck, I should have paid way more attention to the Lewis clause.

⁂

Virgil is aware of three things as he wakes up: one, he feels like he has a dreadful hangover. Two, he’s pretty sure he’s in a plane or train or car or something moving, which makes him feel motion sick.

Three, he’s been stripped of his earpiece and his weapons.

He blinks his eyes open slowly, squinting; it’s night time, but even the low light is making Virgil’s eyes hurt.

This is a limousine, he can tell that much off the bat; the partition is closed, the glass tinted as dark as it legally can be, the interior leather light-colored, the bar fully stocked with different sodas and crystal-cut decanters full of various liquors, which makes him wince in memory of the champagne.

He feels like shit, but when he looks over and sees the blue-eyed Brit—his soulmate—his soulmate who had fucking drugged him and was working with the mob—it makes him feel even shittier.

“Ah,” his soulmate says. He’s sitting with one ankle resting on his knee, a squat glass of whiskey in hand. He has glasses on now that he hadn’t had on before. Also, his accent is no longer British; he’s got a nice Italian lilt to his voice, now. “Good. You’re awake.”

Virgil stares at him. He doesn’t say a word.

“I’ll admit this,” he gestures between them, “rather put a cinch in my plan on how to deal with you.”

“Would you have killed me?” Virgil asks. His voice comes out a croak. “If we weren’t...”

He trails off.

The man’s eyebrow arches, before he shrugs, and rolls up his sleeve. His soulmark is in the same place as Virgil’s—stamped across his left inner arm, in the spiky handwriting Virgil only uses in his personal notes, not the more uniform one he writes reports with.

Did you just fucking poison me, you fucking asshole?!

Undeniably a matching soulmark to his.

“My parents were quite bemused by it, when it showed up,” the Brit—or American?—the blue-eyed—his soulmate says. “I suppose we have our answers now.”

“Do we?” he says.

The man takes a sip of whiskey. Then, he says, “Your predecessor was FBI. Are you the same?”

Virgil tenses. The man rolls his eyes again.

“Please,” he murmurs. “For an organization meant to be secretive, your lot are quite obvious when you trade moles in and out. One comes in, goes out, and coincidentally someone new is knocking on the door within the week. It’s absurdly simple to pinpoint who’s reporting back to your government. So. FBI, CIA, military...?”

“Who gives a fuck,” Virgil says.

“One should know what one’s soulmate does for a living, shouldn’t they?” he says. “This is a very unique situation. I’m simply trying to find out—”

“What do you do for a living, then?” Virgil snarls. His head is pounding, his mouth is dry and it tastes dreadful, his soulmate is an asshole working for the other side, and he’s being carted off to God knows where. This day is one of the worst of his life. Why couldn’t he have had a nice little café meet-cute, like Roman had had?

The man smiles at him, not particularly kindly. “I diversify.”

Virgil pulls a face, because he knows that’s poking fun at his cover.

“What,” Virgil says, “poison people on Monday, go to Ida Kelly’s resort on Tuesday, with a fun little Friday jaunt of killing people who cross the Trumans?”

“I’ve never actually been to the museum Ida Kelly curates,” the man admits. “It was an easy way to insert myself near you, to put it in your drink. And for goodness’ sake, it wasn’t poison.”

“Roofie. Drug. Whatever.”

The man’s eyebrows pull together, in a rather petulant expression. “I designed that myself, you know.”

“Well, it’s shit,” Virgil snaps. “I feel like I have the worst hangover of my goddamn life.”

“Yes, that was part of the design,” the man says, and offers him a glass of water.

Virgil stares at him. “Seriously.”

“No trust between soulmates?” He says.

“Yeah, well. Fool me once.”

The man shrugs, putting down the glass of water into a cupholder, before digging out a sealed water bottle. Virgil takes it and places it into a cupholder near him. No fucking way he’s accepting any food or drink from this man.

His lips quirk up into a smile.

“Where are you taking me?” Virgil says, ignoring the way that smile makes his heart pound.

“That rather depends,” he admits.

“On?”

“Well.” He says. He uncrosses his legs, planting both feet on the floor. “I’m assuming that now the man in your little earpiece—he was rather rude—is aware that you have been, what is it you say? Made?”

Virgil nods.

“Well. Now that he, and therefore your employer, knows that you are made, you won’t be poking your nose into Truman business anymore, will you?”

Virgil grits his teeth. “Not undercover.”

The man ignores that. “And I know that no matter which you work for, the Lewis clause has been adopted across every arm of that government, and as such you’ll be prohibited from any mission that might bring you into contact with me.”

God damn it. How does he know the spy lessons better than Virgil does?

And then it occurs to him: Janus knew that man. He warned Virgil to get away from him, to get away from Lo—

He rolls this information around in his head. The Lewis clause isn’t exactly a widely advertised part of being a spy; there was a whole trilogy of novels that got adapted into secret agent movies, years ago, that concerned opposing agent spies coming to face each other again and again, and the secondary soulmate agents teamed up together. Which the Lewis clause would prevent, but the public who went and read those novels or saw those movies wouldn’t know that.

So either this man—Lo? Lo what?—either knows a lot about spies, because he’s one of those know your enemy types, or...

Or he sat down and learned about the Lewis clause the same way that Virgil did, except he actually sat down and listened. Maybe he defected, maybe he’s dirty? Or maybe Virgil’s just overthinking it.

Look. Virgil’s got a lot of questions here. Chief among which:

“Where are you taking me?”

“Away,” the man says vaguely, looking at him. “Are you gay?”

Virgil gapes at him.

“I’d be perfectly fine with a platonic soulmate, but for the sake of disclosure, I am gay.”

“For the sake of disclosure,” Virgil repeats disbelievingly, and pinches the bridge of her nose, rubbing it. God, his head hurts terribly.

“Bisexual, or pansexual, perhaps?” He prompts. “Asexual? Or... you could be straight, I suppose.”

“Ugh,” Virgil says reflexively, then shakes himself. “I’m not—okay. Fine. Yeah, I’m gay too.”

“All right,” the man says, as if noting it. “What’s your name?”

Virgil snorts.

“What?”

“Okay, I don’t—” he gestures to the limousine around them. “Again, you just drugged me. I don’t know where you’re taking me. You probably would have killed me if I hadn’t said those words.”

The man makes a moue of distaste.

“Or had someone kill me, I don’t know,” Virgil amends. “Either way, you’re working with that family, who I’m assuming aren’t pleased at having a spy getting caught trying to work himself into your ranks, so I’d rather you not know all that much about my life, thanks.”

“It’s not like I’m asking for your,” an infinitesimal pause, as if he’s wracking his brain, trying to remember something, “social security number or anything. A name.”

Virgil stares at this man. Lo—. Lo something. Lochlan? Loyd? Or was it a codename?

“Yours first.”

The man pauses.

“You drugged me,” Virgil says.

He smiles at Virgil. “Will you hold this over my head for the rest of our lives?”

The rest of our lives. Yes, that’s meant to be the fairytale ending for soulmates, isn’t it? A nice little meeting, the swell of overdramatic violins in the background, falling into each other’s arms and forming a life together. That’s the popular answer.

More and more recently, though, people have been advocating for choice; that soulmates are not always the best person for you.

Virgil doesn’t know which camp he and this man will fall into, just now.

“Yes,” Virgil says quietly. “Yes, I think I will.”

The man sets aside his whiskey.

“Logan.” He says at last, and his accent has changed again; it’s vague, almost indecipherable, but if Virgil had to guess he’d say Midwestern American. Virgil wonders if it’s his real one. “My name is Logan.”

Logan.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Since discovering you’re my soulmate? I haven’t lied to you at all. Not a word.”

“Except for the accent.”

Logan laughs.

“Habit, sorry. It’s a long story that perhaps the man screaming in your earpiece will be able to tell you one day.”

Virgil jolts with surprise. “You know—?”

He cuts himself off before he can say Janus’ name.

“Reputationally,” Logan says, and, as strange as it is, Virgil believes him. In this, at least.

His soulmate’s name is Logan.

“Virgil.”

Logan smiles, his blue eyes glittering. “It’s nice to meet you, Virgil.”

There’s the sound of a soft knock on the partition, and it lowers; Virgil can’t see the driver.

“Sir? We’re here.”

“Right,” Logan murmurs, shaking himself. He reaches into his jacket and withdraws an envelope, offering it for Virgil.

Virgil hesitates.

Logan rolls his eyes. “It’s not like I’ve laced it with anything. I’m holding it with my bare hands.”

Virgil huffs, but he takes it, opening it and pulling out a thin piece of paper.

It’s a commercial flight ticket to Washington, D.C.

“Why D.C.?” Virgil says quietly.

“Most of those organizations are based there,” Logan says. “Is it too far a jump to assume that you are, as well?”

It is actually too far a jump; it’s not even remotely close, he lives in an entirely different part of the states. But. To be fully honest, he doesn’t want Logan to know the state he lives in, and therefore the state that Patton and Roman live in, until Virgil knows if he can be trusted or not.

Logan opens the limousine door from inside, revealing they’ve pulled up to the local airport.

“What, no private plane?”

“I assumed you wouldn’t trust that,” Logan says with a shrug. “The Trumans may be powerful, but you know as well as I that manipulating a flight of this nature is well outside their purview.”

Logan’s right, he absolutely wouldn’t have trusted that, but. This limo’s pretty swanky. For the time he wouldn’t have been obsessively running over every crack and seam in a private jet and interrogating the pilot, he probably would have had a pretty swell time.

Virgil swallows, looking up at Logan. “There are programs, you know? If you wanted to be a witness. Be in service to—”

Logan smiles at him in a way that’s almost pitying. “I left that life behind a long time ago.”

Virgil looks to the airport, then back at Logan.

“Will I see you again?”

Logan shrugs again, almost delicately. “Who’s to say?”

Virgil nods, once, and he says firmly, “I’ll see you later.”

Logan grins at him. “Not if I see you first.”

Virgil slips out of the limo, slams the door shut, and, with what feels like Herculean effort, manages to get into the airport without looking back to see if he can see Logan through the tinted glass.

He does exchange the ticket for another that’s an hour and a half later, though. He’s not a total idiot.

He gets through security pretty quick, and sits in one of the incredibly uncomfortable chairs, his brain pounding with his headache, the questions swirling around in his head making it even worse. Virgil puts his head in his hands.

He just met his soulmate.

His soulmate is working for a mob family.

He just met his soulmate.

His soulmate is apparently smart enough to specifically engineer a roofie.

His soulmate, though!

Janus knows his soulmate. Janus recognized his soulmate.

His soulmate knew about the fucking Lewis clause.

Was his soulmate a spy too? Was his soulmate in deep cover? Had he betrayed his organization? Was he a good person, or had the universe seen fit to hitch Virgil to someone awful?

How had Logan gotten entangled with the Trumans in the first place? Why wasn’t he in the dossier?

Where was Logan even from? Did he like coffee? Hot chocolate? What had he studied in school? What was his favorite food? If they were normal people, would he have asked him on a date and not drugged him and dragged him off in a limo?

Who was Logan?

Whatever the answers to his questions are, though. Virgil knows himself enough to know that he isn’t about to let this case go. Not the Trumans. Not him.

Lewis clause be damned.

#my post #text #my fic #analogical #analogicalweek #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #virgil sanders #logan sanders

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hikarimiyanaga · 3 years

Text

I'll Always Be Yours (Part 5)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Fifth Song: Dahan (Gently)

You stop trying to fight your stubborn heart. Just wanting to live a lonely life without her.

A/N: Officially completed and I'm starting on my Wanda fic now!!

Might take weeks to finish that one though...

Oh well.

Dialogues that are in parenthesis are spoken in Japanese.

Warning: Angst

No more tears

I won't force it anymore

You are my love

Until eternity

No more listening

My mind is confused

I hope you know

You are the one I love

You hum as you draw. It took you a week until you can finally draw your sketches again. Another week to pick up a paintbrush and actually paint.

It’s been four months since then. Your only missing at least two more paintings so you could open another art exhibit. You hum as you take a sip of your coffee.

“Shouldn’t you stop?” You raise an eyebrow at Silvia.

“That’s your third cup already and it’s only 11 am.” You shrug at her and continue sketching.

“Will the last one be Natasha?” You stop and contemplate Miyuki’s words. You haven’t sketched her since you broke down.

“Most probably.” You’ll probably use one of your older sketches. The ones where the woman you draw was the one you knew. Not Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow and Avenger but just Natalia, the little girl who turned into a gorgeous woman. Natalia whom you loved with your every being.

“Maybe sell it this time?” You frown at Silvia. “You rejected the last offer for the portrait!” You shrug. “It was 20 million!” Miyuki whistles at you and you smile.

“I still don’t want anyone to monopolize her.” Silvia sighs in defeat and Miyuki consoles her.

You start painting her portrait again and you can’t help but smile. You just hope that wherever she is. Whomever she was with. That you’re still holding onto your promise with her. You’ll always be waiting for her. Loving her. You stretch your body as you pause for the day. You really did meant forever.

“Silvia?” Silvia opens your door and peeks inside.

“Yeah?”

“Can you contact Professor Asuna? See if there’s any willing gallery that I can rent for a week?”

“Okay. Got it.”

“Thanks, even though you’re only my bodyguard.”

“It’s called assisting. I do that too.”

“I know!” You chuckle as she closes the door. You open your phone and lay down on the floor. You begin watching videos of the love of your life.

“Natasha.” Nat ignores Clint and stares at her portrait. “Hey.”

“What?”

“There’s a kid that wants to interview you?” Natasha sighs and turns around.

“Why?”

“About the painting, I think.”

“Where?”

“In front of Mona Lisa.”

Natasha approaches the kid who smiles at her.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Colette. A big fan of Master Y/N.”

“Have you met her?” Natasha sits besides the kid and they both look at Mona Lisa.

“Yes. Many times. Through her exhibitions. Never got to buy any of original painting though, just the postcards one.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Just answers.”

“To what?”

“Do you and Master Y/N know each other?”

“Knew.” Natasha answers with a sigh. “Before I became an Avenger, I knew her.” Colette hums.

“To what extent?”

“What?”

“Your relationship? Friends? Lovers? Enemies?”

“Lovers.” Natasha says with a sad smile.

“Ah. I knew it.”

“What do you mean?” Colette shrugs and smiles.

“Do you know that she still loves you?” Natasha gulps and looks at Colette. Colette smiles and gives Natasha an envelope. “It’s all just postcards but you can compare them to your portrait here. The strokes and the color aren’t matching. She must’ve spent days on your portraits and only hours on the landscapes. Granted they’re the ones she sells all the time.”

“She never sells my portraits?” Colette chuckles.

“Never. She said to a buyer once that she doesn’t want anyone to monopolize you. That you’re better taken care of if you’re seen by the world.” Colette bids her goodbye and Natasha looks at the miniature version of your paintings, she goes back to her portrait and her heart stops. Colette was right.

You do still love her. She can’t stop her smile and Clint smiles at her.

“You okay?” Natasha smiles.

“I’m good.”

And if it’s not for me

The love that you offer

Then I won’t hope anymore

To be kissed again

You sigh as Silvia and Miyuki cuddle each other while you were behind them. You insisted on this arrangement so you could deny that you know them. You pay attention to the screen and flinches when Steve appears. He says that warning that every movie theater does before showing the movie itself. You sigh and you look and see that the two are looking at you. You chuck them a piece of your popcorn and they look at the screen.

“The movie was so good!” You yawn as Silvia gushes about the movie.

“Yeah!” Miyuki agrees as you stretch your body.

“Boss? You going back?”

“Yep. You two go on a date or something.”

“You sure?”

“Yep. I’ll go take a nap before painting.”

“How many more days till you finish it?” You grin at them.

“Probably just one more.”

You wake up and see Natasha’s portrait staring down at you. You yawn and smile. Your phone rings and you see that it’s Asuna.

(“Hey.”)

(“You ready for it?”)

(“Yup. I’m just going to have the final one in center.”) Asuna hums.

(“Another portrait of her?”) You look at it and smile.

(“Always.”) After you hang up, you send an email to Tony Stark, confirming his invitation to your new exhibition.

Slowly release

My heart can't resist

Because once you left

It’s been Extremely difficult

You put on your suit and hum at yourself. You clean up nice.

“Is that an appreciative hum for my fashion sense or are you just being narcissistic?” Silvia asks and you roll your eyes. You get out of your room and Asuna smiles at you.

(“Finally. After hours.”)

(“Only an hour. Don’t compare me to you.”) Asuna gasps and Miyuki snickers.

(“Hush, you. Now, come on.”) You smile as you all leave the Ryokan and into your gallery. You laugh as you look around and your new paintings are displayed.

(“Asuna! Thank you! This is amazing!”)

(“On such short notice too.”)

(“Anything for the master. As long as you save me one painting.”)

(“Pick one.”)

(“Wait, seriously?”)

(“Yeah? There are a lot more than the usual so pick one.”)

(“This one then.”) She presents the portrait and you raise an eyebrow.

(“Anything except that one.”) They laugh and you shake your head.

(“This one then.”)

(“Ah. Your hometown?”) Asuna hums and you nod at her.

(“It’s yours. I’ll tell Norah not to auction that one.”)

(“Thank you, Y/N.”) She hugs you and you smile.

(“Okay, then! Two more hours till we open the doors!”) Miyuki shouts and you smile.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Of course.”

“It’s your call.” Natasha hums as she approaches the gallery with Tony.

You smile as visitors gush about your paintings. Exhibitions are still the one thing that you do make an appearance at. You were about to be approached when you see her. Natasha… she’s alone and looking at her portrait. Your heart beats faster and everything seemed to close in on you. FUCK. She’s here. DAMN IT!

“Boss?” Silvia calls out but you don’t hear her. “Y/N?” She shakes you and you finally look at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Air.” You simply answer and Silvia nods. She escorts you out of the gallery and Miyuki follows after.

You clutch your chest as you try to breathe normally.

“In and out, Y/N.” Silvia guides you through your sudden attack.

“Did something trigger it?”

“Not something.” You answer with hoarse voice then drink the water that Silvia gave you. “Someone.”

“Natasha?” You nod in confirmation. “Damn it.” You stop Silvia from going back inside.

“Don’t kick her out. Don’t be rude.”

“Then-“

“I’ll leave. I’ll come back tomorrow.” They nod and you sigh. “Tell them that I got sick or something. Just go.”

“You’ll be okay by yourself?” You nod and bid them goodbye. You walk back to the Ryokan to clear your head.

Natasha looks at the stage where Asuna got a hold of the mic.

(“I’m sorry to announce that Master Y/N cannot be here tonight.”) She hears disappointed murmurs go through the crowd. (“It seems that she suddenly got sick and had to leave early. She did say though that she’ll try her best to be here tomorrow.”) Asuna gives back the mic to the Dj and goes among the crowd again.

Natasha tries to find her and sees that Tony actually got to her first.

“Excuse me, Miss-?”

“Ah. Yuuki. Asuna Yuuki.” Natasha shakes her hand and they nod.

“What exactly happened to Master Y/N?”

“I don’t exactly know. Her bodyguards just told me that she got sick and left early.”

“Is she okay? Did something bad happen? Where is she-?” Tony gets ahold of her arm.

“Okay. Sorry for the sudden barrage miss Yuuki. We’ll be going now.” Tony drags Natasha away from Asuna.

I will not allow it anymore

You hurt me

That again and forget

Our past

Can't you hear

My chest throbbed

It's getting away from you

My feelings

You take a deep breath and fix your suit.

(“You ready, Y/N?”)You nod at Asuna and she opens the doors to your gallery once again. People immediately flock to you. They’re asking how you’re feeling. Some about the paintings. Some about the portrait.

“PEOPLE!” Silvia’s booming voice freeze them and she drags you away from them. (“Stop mobbing the master! She’ll talk to you if she’s feeling any better! Understood?”) They nod simultaneously and Miyuki gives you a glass of water.

“You okay?” You nod and drink the glass in one go.

“You sure about that?” You nod again and give the empty glass back to Miyuki.

“I’m fine now.” You tell them and go to a visitor.

You’ve managed to avoid both Tony and Natasha as you talk to everyone else and it’s the last day of your exhibition.

“Miss Y/LN.” You hum as Tony approaches you. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“You’re with miss Romanoff.”

“Ah… do you not like her?” You scoff.

“It’s nothing.”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” You sigh and wave your hand.

“As I promised, a million dollars.” He gives you a check and you shake your head.

“No. The exhibition is free for all. Keep it.”

“You sure?” You nod. “Then I’ll just have to bid all of your paintings.” You chuckle.

“And where will you put them?”

“Avengers’ Compound and Stark Industries.” You hum. He bids his goodbye and you smile.

You laugh as Tony bid 5 million on the last painting that Norah auctioned… he just spent 125 million dollars on all of your paintings.

“How about the portrait? A special gift for someone who just got you 125 million?” You go to the stage and Norah gives you the mic.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. But that portrait will be donated, not bought.”

“Come on, Y/LN!” Silvia growls and you put up your hand to stop her. “125 million! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“It means everything Mr. Stark. But that woman in those portraits also meant everything to me.” You get off the stage and get something from Miyuki.

“Instead of that, please accept this.” You give him the canvas that is covered.

“And this is?”

“A painting for her. I know she’s with you.”

“She had to leave early tonight because of an emergency mission.” You smile.

“And you can just half all of your bids, I don’t mind.”

“No. You earned those 125 million. Pepper will be happy with these pieces.” You hum.

“Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah?”

“Please tell her not to come looking for me again.” You bid him goodbye and leave.

Tony tried to find you again but he huffs in frustration. You were too good at hiding your own trail. He hoped to find you before Natasha gets back from her mission but as he hears the Quinjet land softly, he knew that he failed. He runs a hand through his hair and look at your paintings.

You really were a master.

#Natasha Romanoff x reader #Marvel #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #Black Widow x Reader #mcu #natasha x you

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pineapplopolis · 3 years

Text

Carmivy headcanons I have rattling around my head like a skittle in a box

(I'm talking more about the 90's version but it's up to anyone's interpretation)

Their primary form of intimacy is touch so cue back hugs, slow dancing, and hand holds galore.

This also includes bathing eachother (/ns)

Carm loves 80's music that much is canon BUT spanish music especially old school boléros hold a special place in her heart

Trio los panchos, la lupe, chavela vargas, eydie gorme, and celia cruz are some of her favorite artists

They are bound to be playing in the background often and Carm will put it on as shes cooking

This leads to some nice slow dances as the food cooks

Carmen often sings along (belts but no one would believe you) or hums

Ives does too but she'd rather hum because she has a terrible accent and cannot pronounce spanish words

They are very romantic and love doing things spontaneously so expect random gifts and dates

One particular date is a late night picnic date on the beach that was probably planned by Ivy and is complete with rose petals leading to a candle lit cabana filled with pillows and a tub of champagne and/or wine with soft mood music playing in the background

Carmen steals things and gifts them to Ivy often. Ivy pretends she hates that carmen is stealing and for her but in reality, she cherishes every single item

Ivy thinks shes a good actress and plays it off but Carm knows she loves them anyway

They travel often just to do it. Ivy didnt get to see the sights chasing Carm down and Carm happily obliges

Totally the Mob boss/ Police comissioner Au

Or even the rich gay aunts archetype

Ivy takes up woodworking and builds most if not all of their furnature

They didn't start dating right away OR they were on and off for a while before retiring together entirely

I imagine it may have started off in a night of passion (cOUgH cOUGh *one night stand mayhaps?* ) a few years after Ivy retired from ACME BUT I love the idea my fave fic presented where Carm knows she wants to persue a relationship and that Ivy wants something as well but cant bc of her moral code (brain v heart kind of thing)*

They dont have a formal wedding if they decide to get married at all. It's off the books with the promise of being together with their own paper rings rather than a big ceremony. At least not in the beginning

Think of the marriage in The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

Zack was kinda mad he wasn't invited but he is happy for them either way

Now lets say they do want an official wedding ceremony- they have a small event (under fake names ofc) but its way down the line after their own little elopement.

Zack gets to be the "bride's best man"

I dont see them with kids but I can imagine if they did they would have maybe 3 they've adopted however it's by the time both of them are retired

Ivy's last name is o'connor. I chose it bc I hc Ives as irish and o'connor means patron of warriors which I think fits her

Retired carmen becomes a novelist under the pseudonym Isabela o'conner OR Isabela Flynn bc its her brand (flynn, irish surname bc of ivy, meaning bright red) and donates to various charities including one for orphans

They fund a museum

They have a few houses but their favorite is the beach side house in Venice

Ivy goes back to school. Yes, she prefers boots on the ground field work but I think she would enjoy a distraction from the mundane. She hates the class work- she was always the muscle unlike zack- but shes not stupid and wants to try something new

They have a black cat named carmine or sappho and a mastiff laconian named Peritas after Alexander the great's very own. Carm loves cats and has one named carmine in canon so it's only right plus I see Ivy as a dog person

They are the type to do something extravagant and celebrate the little things. They have many small celebrations for the randomest and most sentimental reasons

Zack finds out they were dating first and hid it extremely well (to Ivy's shock). Everyone finds out because Ivy acts like the lovestruck fool she is

Zack finds out immediately through one wiley joke Ivy blushed hard at and refused ardently. He doesn't let her live it down

Every year carm insists on sending holiday/birthday cards to the people they know. Ivy has no idea why but she does it anyway

*The fic I'm talking about is "The Art of Doubt" on ao3, I highly recommend it.

#carmivy #90's carmen #90's cartoons #headcanon #ramblings #its canon in my heart #please make a fic off of this #im tired #and gay #carmen sandiego #where in the world is carmen sandiego?

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trickstermadness · 4 years

Text

A Decade of Anime Suggestions

Wow! It’s Officially 2020! Spicy. I know I dont tend to make actual post on my blog but I really would like to give a few shout outs and suggestions of Anime that I personally really enjoyed this past decade! Let me know what shows meant a lot to you as well please!

2010

Durarara!!

Durarara came out in 2010 ( the first season at least ) and I mean if you’re at least vaguely a part of the anime community you’ve probably heard of it. Its a show that is honestly all over the place but its a fun ride. Simply put it’s about color gangs but it also has a headless fairy and a man who can throw vending machines? Its wild but a lot of fun.

2011

Madoka Magica

Magical Girls? Check. Friendship? Check. Soft lesbianism? Absolutely. Death? You betcha. This was not the first show I had seen that was on the Darker side but it was the first one to initially sell itself as something happy and fun.

Madoka Magica sells itself as a typical magical girl anime where young girls transform into frilly cloths and beat up monsters but this show helped to revolutionize the genre. While a lot of the shows that come after it that try to follow its formula dont always come off as genuine this anime put its best foot forward and had a beautiful soundtrack and interesting art styles.

2012

what can I say, i didn’t hate the shows in 2012, but none felt meaningful enough to me to add here. Tell me your favorite anime form 2012!!

2013

Free!

aww yes, free, the sports anime to get people into sports anime. there is no denying that this show is full to the brim with Queer Baiting but hey, It was fun to watch and did get me genuinely interested in swimming. This was the start of a lowkey obsession with sports anime for me ( not all of them made this list tho but if you want to know what other sports anime I like hmu!!)

2014

Haikyuu!!

Dudes being Bros? Aw fuck yeah. This show was one of the shows my friends and i watched together in High School. The Large supporting cast made it easy to have at least one (if not a whole team) character to love with all your heart. These characters helped motivate me in my day to day life, and I know that sounds kind of silly but their optimism was grounded in reality, it wasn’t some big quest to save the world, it was a story about High School boys wanting to play and win at Volleyball and their determination helped me a lot.

2015

Kekkai Sensen

I have always been more of a fan of fantasy rather than SciFi but this show really does it for me, balancing itself right in the middle. You you like either SciFi or Fantasy I would suggest you give this show a shot. (or if you just like pretty animation and funny characters) The first season is a bit bumpy but its still a beautiful story! Its the kind of show you can keep rewatching and every time notice something different.

The simplest overview of the plot is that Our World and Another universe sort of overlap, but only in New York, which is then Renamed Hell Salems Lot. But like even before this there were like vampires on earth? Idk the show never takes itself too seriously because it knows its plot is kind of Out There, but the main Character Leonard Watch is basically just trying to do his best to make money to send back home to his sister. Its really sweet but also really wild.

2016

My Hero Academia

Honestly you cant watch anime and not know what this show is right now, but its first season came out in 2016. The general Pitch of it is like a Western Style Comic Book Hero but set in the typicla Japanese School Setting that anime loves. Its really fun and even if its not your favorite show it defiantly deserves a spot on the list

BUT! so does...

Mob Psycho 100

While I couldn’t leave out My hero academia, it felt wrong not to mention this Gem of a show. Mob Psycho 100 is beautifully animate ( yes you heard me right, i think its beautiful, the art is weird but its still pretty and the animation is so fluid) Simply put its about a boy named Mob with Psychic powers who is crazy strong, but he doesn’t want to use his powers because they wont get him what he really wants ( the attention of his childhood crush) As a young boy he wanted someone to teach him how to control his powers and he found Reigen ( a conman who pretends to be a psychic) and thats the best I can explain without spoiling anything!

2017

Land of the Lustrous

This show has one season and its pretty slow. There is a plot, i guess, but i have no idea on how to explain it in a way that makes sense! It mostly made this list because of how beautiful it is. It is fully CGI and it is stunning to look at. Even if you don’t plan on watching the show I would suggest watching the theme song at least.

2018

A Place Further Than The Universe

This show is an emotional bitter sweet rollicoaster. It starts off with a girl who feels like she is wasting her youth and wants to do something big who then meets another girl who wants to go to Antarctica because thats where her mother passed away and she wants to “see her one last time”. Its a sweet story about friendship and youth and loss of a loved one and I would 110% recommend this show.

2019

Promised Neverland

The promised neverland is a psychological thriller about children being raised in an orphanage finding out that they are more like cattle then children. The show is about the three Oldest trying to figure out a way to escape before their 12th birthday.

That concludes a decades worth of good anime!! I hope the next one hold just as many of not more amazing shows!!

#anime #the promised neverland #bnha #mob psycho 100 #haikyuu #madoka magica #durarara #a place further than the universe #land of the lustrous #free!#kekkai sensen #a decade in review

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notveryglittery · 4 years

Text

far (1.2)

summary: everything’s just right. until it isn’t. wc: 2k / ships: romantic royality, platonic anxceit warnings: injuries, fighting, zombies, typical minecraft danger author‘s note: i really can’t be stopped, huh? thank you so much to @blinksinbewilderment for beta’ing this for me! this ends the first part of the au but i have so many more ideas :) enjoy!

mice on venus (1.1) | far (1.2) (you are here) title inspo: (spotify link) (youtube link) ao3 line (to edit later)

— — —

Roman wakes up late and is devastated to find out that Janus and Virgil left just before sunrise. No one will tell him why they left or what they were going out looking for and it just makes his mood even worse. It doesn’t help that he’s put on official bed rest; Logan is actually posted outside of his door to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. Roman picks slowly at the breakfast Patton had brought up to him: it’s eggs, bacon, hash browns, and apple juice which are a lot of his favorite foods but they just don’t taste right. The whole day feels off and he’s not even halfway into it.

Eventually, the scrape of a chair breaks through the monotony of his morning and he looks up, curious. Patton bursts through the door, barely carrying a jukebox.

“Dearest, you’re going to hurt yourself!” Roman exclaims, trying to get up and help.

“Nuh uh,” Patton tuts, “stay put.”

Roman begrudgingly settles back into bed as Patton manages to set the jukebox down on Roman’s desk by the window. Roman would recognize that disc anywhere and his face lights up as the first notes of Far begin to play. Patton beams back at him before hurrying out of the room again. Roman closes his eyes and leans back, letting the whimsical sounds wash over him.

When Patton returns, it’s again by carrying something heavy up the stairs by himself, and Roman’s worry spikes. This time, Patton drops the load unceremoniously on the floor and it clangs noisily. The sunlight glints off of it and Roman realizes it’s his shield, in obvious need of redecorating.

“Who fixed it?” He asks, wondering how in the world it got done so quickly.

“Janus found a bunch of iron ore in that ravine and Virgil made sure to put it in the blast furnace to smelt overnight!” Patton explains, dripping a tiny bit of what looks like Slow Falling onto it. It is just as heavy to lift but once he has, he gives it a careful toss towards Roman, who catches it as it floats gently down to him. “I asked the armorer how long it would take to repair. He said no time at all as long as I brought back some berry shortbread when I came to pick it up!”

“Patton,” Roman says very seriously. “Did you make berry shortbread?”

Patton giggles. “Yes, honey, and don’t worry, I made enough for dessert tonight.”

“Come here!” Roman shouts which just makes Patton laugh harder.

As soon as Patton is in arm’s reach, Roman pulls him in and down for a kiss. It’s sweet and brief because Patton can’t stop smiling.

“I love you,” he mumbles, brushing his lips across Roman’s cheek as he stands back up.

“I love you!” Roman declares. “It’s been so long since I repainted this!” He tilts the shield in his lap so he can get a better look at it. “I’m making sure there’s a spot dedicated to you this time!”

Patton blushes and busies himself with retrieving Roman’s art supplies from his storage. “You don’t have to do that…”

“Don’t have to,” Roman agrees, “I want to!”

Patton sighs fondly as he helps to get Roman set up with a sturdy place to work. He’s meant to keep his leg elevated which makes this all very awkward but they do eventually sort it out. As soon as he’s comfortable, Roman is mixing colors to get just the right shade. He starts with broad strokes to get a base down; at least, that’s what Patton assumes. Far still plays happily from the jukebox and everything is just right.

— — —

Everything is not just right and Virgil is pretty fucking sure they are going to die.

“What did you do!” He screeches over the sound of what must be at least twenty zombies bearing down on them.

“Might’ve lingered too long ‘round a spawner,” Janus grunts as he swings his axe into a zombie’s chest.

Virgil answers with a wordless, frustrated scream, plunging his daggers into a zombie’s face probably more times than is necessary. He loses track of how many mobs they kill (because of course a handful of skeletons and creepers join the fray). Eventually though, they do get enough distance between them and the monsters that they can block the path and take some time to breathe.

“Was there even any good loot?” Virgil asks.

Janus tosses his pack onto the ground between them. Virgil goes through it and finds cocoa beans (which is the main reason they’re exploring, so that’s nice), two golden apples (holy shit), and a name tag (as if they don’t have enough of those already). He runs a hand through his hair which is a huge mistake, actually, because they are still grimy with blood. He takes a few moments to clean himself off as best he can. In the time it takes him to do so, Janus has leant against the wall and fallen half-asleep.

“Let’s stay awhile,” Virgil suggests, because if he makes it sound like he’s the one that wants to rest, Janus is less likely to take offense. “That fight took a lot out of me.”

Janus blinks at him, slowly. “Whenever you’re ready, then.”

He dozes off so quickly, Virgil would dare to think that Janus actually trusts him with his safety. They’ve come a long way, he supposes; from Janus nearly stranding them in the Nether to Virgil being the one he usually invites along for scouting.

Virgil has long since accepted that they’re cut from the same cloth: homes in dangerous places and suspicious of new faces; the type to stab first, ask questions second; someone who will defend the things and people they love until their dying breath. Virgil remembers how terrified he had been when he and Roman leapt into the portal after Janus. He remembers watching it shatter behind them, remembers praying for Logan and Patton’s safety, remembers begging Roman to be careful, please, I can’t lose you again—

Virgil shakes his head. He wipes stubbornly at the tears gathering in his eyes and curses his brain for reminding him of these stupid memories in such sharp detail. He focuses instead on his breathing and keeping watch while Janus naps. They’re at least a day’s journey from home now; they’d gone caving at sunset to avoid the monsters above ground. The plan is to try and find new land but with only three days to do so, Virgil doubts they’ll be so lucky. He doesn’t want to go too far and risk missing Roman’s first day back on his feet. He’s absolutely going to go too hard and Virgil really wants to be there to see it. He stifles a laugh at the image but the muffled noise still wakes Janus up. He stretches, groaning as a few bones click in the process.

“Feeling better?”

Virgil just barely resists rolling his eyes. It’s strangely endearing that Janus thinks Virgil doesn’t see right through him. “Yeah, I’m good to go. Should be sunrise by the time we get back to the surface.”

They follow their torch path out and sure enough, sunlight shines through the cave entrance as they approach. They pick up where they left off, Janus marking his map along the way. The day is hot, regardless of their travel through a birch forest and taking advantage of all the shade. For Janus, it’s nothing compared to the heat of the Nether, but Virgil has to shed his layers which leaves him feeling vulnerable.

The only interesting thing to happen during this part of their trek is finding a new village. They gain favor with the inhabitants when they patch up the cracking iron golem. They make some trades, replenishing their food supply in exchange for ore and coal; it helps lighten their loads which should keep their energy from waning too quickly later on. The villagers have extra beds so Janus and Virgil stay there for the night.

Day three begins bright and early with Virgil insisting they start heading home. Janus agrees more readily than he expects but maybe he, too, doesn’t expect them to find much in what little time they have left. It’s easy going on the way back, since they’re familiar now with the land. Virgil wishes he could explain why they make the dangerous choice to continue traveling through the night. He wishes he could figure out how they both make such a stupid decision.

Janus is hot on his heels, breaths coming in ragged gasps. Virgil is barely pushing through the pain in his calves. They had been holding their own, quickly taking care of any mobs that came too close. It had been fine until, of course, Virgil accidentally looked at an enderman. The screeching had filled the night air, scaring Virgil right out of his skin.

“Sorry!” He had shouted, as if apologizing to the creature would do any good.

Janus grabbed his wrist, pulling him deeper into the woods. “Too many monsters,” he had explained.

They’d been running ever since. Virgil’s lost track of how long but he can’t hear the enderman anymore so he can only hope they’re in the clear. Thankfully, they’re officially close enough to home that he begins to recognize various landmarks: one tree with blue ribbon tied around the trunk, a pitfall trap just outside their torch grid, and finally —

Virgil slows enough that Janus darts around him and nearly breaks the gate from how quickly he slams into it.

“I hate nighttime,” he snarls, “at least I could trust the Nether to always be dangerous!”

Virgil wants to laugh but he can barely breathe. He follows, closing the gate behind him.

“Hey,” he says, trailing Janus to the house. “Hey, we kind of got what we were looking for.”

“I’m so glad we almost died for some cocoa beans.”

“We would’ve been fine!”

Janus levels him with a glare that would shut anyone else up. Virgil, because he is insufferable, keeps going. “Besides, you’re gonna see Patton smile and it’ll all be worth it.”

Janus almost trips, over absolutely nothing. “Shut up!” He hisses, turning away so that Virgil can’t see his face. His absolutely-no-doubt-about-it blushing face.

Virgil does so this time but only because they’re at the front door now. They enter quietly, well aware that it’s the middle of the night, and not wanting to wake their companions. Someone comes thundering down the stairs anyway. Virgil moves away from Janus because he knows exactly who would make that much noise and—

Sure enough, Patton appears and throws himself at Janus. The latter’s face goes bright red and Virgil smirks at him.

“You’re home!” Patton exclaims, pulling back and hugging Virgil next. Janus busies himself with his pack. “We were so worried!”

“Aren’t you always?” Virgil asks.

“‘S night,” grumbles Logan from the stairs. Virgil’s heart skips when he looks to find his partner rubbing at his eyes, hair messy from sleep. “Why’re you travelin’ at night?”

Virgil drops his stuff and scoops Logan into his arms. “Didn’t wanna be away from you anymore.”

“Shhhh,” Logan pats Virgil’s cheeks, “shh, too tired for that.”

“To bed, then,” Virgil proposes. He waves at Patton and Janus before helping Logan back upstairs and to their room.

Patton hovers a bit as Janus puts away everything he and Virgil had not only taken with them but the things they had found too.

“Did everything go okay?” Patton asks eventually.

“As okay as usual.”

“Find anything neat?”

Janus hesitates before he turns and presents the pouch of cocoa beans. Virgil’s voice rings I told you so in his head but he can’t even be mad because, without a doubt, Patton’s smile has in fact made every trouble well worth it.

#sanders sides fan fiction #royality #anxceit #ts deceit #minecraft au #dani writes

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kyuublu · 3 years

Text

Ice cold

part 1 (Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader | series)

Ice Skating AU

Song inspo: Paperbacks - Arlo Parks

September.

Kids screaming and giggling, Couples lovingly holding hands and in the midst of it, annoying teenagers pushing each other. This is the place where i’ll be spending the next year in.

The Takahashi indoor ice skating rink.

I’ve never really been into Ice skating, nor did I know much of this place. The only thing that got me here was my dads suggestion to do at least ‘something’ to pass this year.

I have just graduated highschool and wasn’t planning on going to college immediately. The last couple of years have just been... too much. All the stress in school and losing friends because of college or stupid fights.

I just needed a break.

I watched the many figures on the rink trudging along the ice. Everyone seemingly being in the moment and sharing it with others. I forgot how nice that must feel.

“So, you’re here for the job right?”

Mr. Takahashi was the owner of the rink and has been for decades. His smile was very genuine as he gave me my paperwork back.

“Yes, sir.”

His smile was still glued on his face as he nodded slowly.

“Well, I won’t need those papers. You’ll just need to show me that you can work hard. My wife can get a bit harsh on the cleaning part of this job.”

The old man almost whispered the last sentence. I chuckled a bit at that.

“Of course. I’ll try my best, sir.”

He gave another short nod towards the rink.

“Our hours go until 7 pm, which means...”

Mr. Takahashi paused for a moment, looking at his watch. Swiftly I interrupted his thoughts.

“We’ll close in 10 minutes.”

The man looked up from his watch again.

“Well officially yes, but there will be a another guest arriving soon. He’ll stay for another hour or two.”

An hour or two? And they’ll really let this place stay open for one person?

I shrugged my curiosity off and turned to the man again.

“So when can I start then?”

Mr. Takahashi wasn’t kidding when he said that his wife was particularly thorough with keeping this place clean.

Here I was, scrubbing down the benches that were beside the rink. How many of these damn kids thought that chewing gum before going ice skating was a good idea? I thought, while I scrubbed off another hard piece of pink gum.

Suddenly I heard shuffling behind the bench I was still working on. Turning towards the noise out of reflex I was met with a harsh stare.

A boy with black curly hair stood a couple of steps away from the bench. Eventhough he wore a mask, I could tell that he didn’t look too happy to see me.

“Oh- Uhh.. Hi!”

I awkwardly waved at the stranger but quickly explained further.

“Don’t worry! I work for Mr. Takahashi now and uh-“

I stopped talking when I noticed the boy wasn’t interested in a conversation. He just walked passed me, sat down on another bench I had JUST cleaned and put on his skates. Letting out a small huff I continued scrubbing down the cold wood in front of me.

After the unpleasant guest (that still hasn’t spoken a word to me), was done with putting on his gear, he walked towards the rink without sparing me a glance. Then the metal of his blades harshly collided with the ice. The sound made me perk up and my curiosity got the best of me.

I slowly stood up and watched as the figure swiftly skated onto the ice floor.

You could tell immediately that he has done this for years. The way he effortlessly pushed himself further, as if he was just going for a stroll around the park.

“He can be a bit, distant.”

Mr. Takahashis calm voice came from behind me. I gave the older man a quick glance.

Oh, yea a little ‘distant’ sure is a way to describe him.

“What’s his name?”

The grey haired man took a couple steps closer as he also began watching.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi. He’s been coming here every week since he was a little boy. His mother used to be a professional ice figure skater but she retired after having him.”

I turned my gaze back to the boy that seemed to be stuck in his own little world at the moment. Sakusa.

“He’s always been very kind towards us even if he can be a handful to others, so please give him a little time to adjust to somebody new. We haven’t really had any other people working here besides our family.”

I gave him a reassuring nod as I slowly took off my gloves.

“Mr. Takahashi.”

A slightly deeper voice approached. Sakusa stopped right beside us on the ice.

“Would you mind putting in CD 12 for me?”

His eyes were focused on the man beside me but I was shamelessly looking at the curly head. Sakusa didn’t have his mask on. I studied his features a little too much in that moment as I realized he had two moles on his forehead.

I had to admit, he really was handsome guy.

The older man chuckled at his request but nonetheless trudged towards the rooms behind the benches. Sakusa watched as Mr. Takahashi entered the room that had a little glass window.

I casually looked away from him and also put my attention to the man. Suddenly I flinched as loud music began playing through the speakers above us.

The boy beside me gave out a cold chuckle. My gaze catched his for a split second, but he moved towards the middle of the rink faster than I could comprehend.

Wow, did he finally acknowledge my presence? The sarcasm in my head was shortly cut off by the moves of the dark haired boy. This time Sakusa didn’t seem effortless. This time he looked passionate.

I didn’t know this guy, but passionate was the last thing I would’ve expected him to be since he’s only been acting cold, almost arrogant. Usually a quiet person would be seen as ‘shy’, but he had a weird narcissistic aura to him.

But even though I don’t know shit about Ice skating or Ice figure skating for that matter, these movements held me in some sort of trance.

After my first workday Mr. & Mrs. Takahashi both agreed on taking me in for awhile. The man was pretty happy to have another helping hand from the start but Mrs. Takahashi also seemed very pleased by my work ethics. In her words she ‘didn’t know people my age would ever get their hands dirty.’ which made me pretty happy to hear.

At least I could contribute something to my community by scrubbing down toilets and benches full of gum.

Something that also made my job a little more interesting than I’d like to admit was Sakusas practices. He came around at least four times a week, or even every evening at times.

“CD 12, right?”

I’d begin to ask after seeing him countless times while working late shifts. The only thing I got in response is a short nod while he proceeded to put on his skates.

I was pretty content with that small interaction with him though, since the boy didn’t seem to acknowledge my existence at all before.

As the CD turned in the old device the Takahashi’s probably had owned since they opened this place, I began watching the gloomy figure on the Ice through the small window. I noticed that he seemed even more timid than usual after our interaction.

Sakusa was making the same twirls and steps as always but somehow he lacked energy. The passion I saw the first time he skated infront of me, was gone.

I shook my head in attempt to keep focusing on my actual tasks. After all I’m still here to work, right? Grabbing the mob and bucket next to door I rushed to the changing rooms.

After an hour of cleaning the floors I could hear a loud crash from outside the room. The door was open, giving me a small view at the rink. The boys’ figure wasn’t on the ice anymore which alarmed me a bit. I hastily stood up and walked out of the changing rooms.

Sakusa was sitting on one of the benches as he held his head between both of his hands in frustration. His eyes were glued to the floor.

Then I saw his skates that were messily layed out on the floor beside him. Aha, that was what made the noise.

I hesitantly approached his form. I didn’t know what my next step was going to be, since this guy probably wasn’t the type that wanted to be comforted. Especially not by me.

I crouched down next to the bench, giving him the personal space he needed.

“Your performance seemed kinda off today.”

The words escaped my mouth without a second thought. Maybe Sakusa didn’t need comforting but more of a second view that could help him?

The dark haired boy took his head out of his hands and gave me a quick glance. Then he gave me the biggest eye roll of the century and began talking.

“Nice to known that even the part-time employee notices my mistakes.”

‘The part-time employee’ Ah yes. He didn’t know my name and he apparently wasn’t planning on changing that.

“I only noticed because when I first saw you skate I thought it was more than some choreography you probably had worked on for months. It was art.”

I stared at the rink infront of us. I guess he really didn’t need anyone besides his ego.

After standing up I gave him one last glance.

“My name’s L/N Y/N by the way.”

Even if he wouldn’t remember, I’d still want that satisfaction of showing him that I actually wanted to be helpful.

I turned away, practically feeling him staring holes into my back and walked away.

My shift was over anyways.

October.

Since starting the Job my parents have been pretty much satisfied with my weekly routine. Instead weeks and months of me rotting away in my room, I was actually doing something.

Now working at the entrance to cash in the money of the guests, did tire me out though. I’d rather clean those scrubby bathrooms and be around that arrogant curly head than work with these endless lines of people. Let’s just say I was a little stressed from the amount of communication I had to go through as the cashier.

It was almost 7pm, I was ready for Sakusa to ignore me again and walk straight into the indoor skating rink. He didn’t pay anything anyways so he had all the right to, but it would be nice to get a hello from time to time.

Suddenly I saw more than one figure enter the building. I couldn’t believe my eyes, did Sakusa actually bring friends? To my knowledge he didn’t even have interest in having friends.

I stood up from my seat and looked through the glass window at the two other boys entering the building with him.

One had lighter hair, the other one was a bit taller with dark blue hair that almost covered his eyes. Sakusa sure knows how to make me curious.

After counting up the money and sorting everything out, I went straight to the rink. I wanted to know who these friends of his were... Even if it probably wasn’t my business.

Before taking a step inside, I could already hear a faint laughter. My heart made a little jump, was that Sakusa?

I fastened my pace a bit but quickly noticed that it was the grey haired boy that was laughing mercilessly.

It seemed like the other two weren’t in on the joke though, as they both looked blankly at their friend.

I smiled at the boys’ antics and was suddenly aware of my unwanted presence. The grey haired boy looked at me, putting his hands on his hips.

“Oi Sakusa, you didn’t tell us you’d bring your girlfriend?”

He said shamelessly, but with a wholesome grin plastered across his face.

The dark haired boy didn’t even look back.

“I told you to stop talking nonsense. You know why we’re here.”

His friend only let out a dramatic sigh, approaching me casually.

“Sorry for that, I’m Sugawara.”

I chuckled again. He just seemed like a nice guy which made me wonder how the hell he got along with Sakusa.

“It’s okay, I’m L/N. Are you guys Sakusas friends?”

The boy blinked at me for a couple of seconds but then began laughing again.

“Oh no, no. I think he’d rather drink bleach than call us his friends.”

Sakusa abruptly stood up and began walking towards the rink, with something that resembled a smirk.

“You know me so well, Sugawara.”

His blades hit the Ice, the sound feeling too familiar now.

Sugawara looked back to me again, seemingly interested in my presence.

“The other guy is Kageyama by the way.”

I nodded shortly as we both approached the rink a little more. The dark haired boy, Kageyama, also entered the floor covered in ice.

“I know you probably experienced how Sakusa can be but trust me when I say, Kageyama is even more dense than he is.”

Chuckling at his comment I finally met Sugawaras gaze.

“So if you aren’t friends, than why are you here?”

Suddenly two male voices could be heard from behind us. I turned a bit to look at the new guests. Who else did Mr. Takahashi let in this time?

“I think you’re about to see why.”

With that, the grey haired boy also entered the rink swiftly in one go.

My attention being back on the two males again, I recognized one to be Mr. Takahashi, whereas the other one was a taller but younger man. His dark hair was gelled back, and he was slim with a strongly defined face. His harsh demeanor somehow didn’t match his athletic but fragile looking body.

The man bowed to my boss and proceeded to walk towards the rink. He flashed me a quick smile and then looked at the boys skating their rounds.

A smile, huh? I couldn’t quite place if this man was nice or scary.

“Mr. Watanabe will be Sakusas new trainer.”

Mr. Takahashi almost whispered to me.

“Oh? Will the others also be joining his practices from now on?”

I asked curiously. The older man slowly shook his head.

“No, they were only in the area because of the competition. I think the trainer wanted Sakusa to see how the others trained.”

Mr. Takahashi pondered as he watched the boys intently.

A competition? I didn’t know Sakusa was actually competing...

“Sakusa is a very talented young man but he doesn’t trust others easily and likes to do things his own way. But if he wants to become the best at what he’s doing-“

He paused as he looked at me briefly.

“then he’ll have to learn from someone that has the experience.”

I nodded in acknowledgement.

Sakusa really was taking ice skating that serious. It made me smile a little.

Suddenly I could feel Mr. Takahashis gaze linger on my action, as if I had been caught red handed, I awkwardly looked away from the dark haired boy.

“Well, I should get going then. I emptied the cash register and-“

The older man chuckled and began waving a hand in front of me.

“Why don’t you stay here for a bit and watch the practice. It might be good for Sakusa to see that someone is actually interested in what he is doing. Since the competition, I could tell he seemed a bit down.”

I perked a brow at that.

Why would he want ME to stay though?

My curiosity got the best of me again, whatever happened in this competition really did get to him or else he wouldn’t have been so stressed before.

“Right, I guess staying for a bit won’t hurt.”

I smiled at the older man. He nodded again and walked back to his little office.

After their little warm up, Mr. Watanabe began talking to the boys. I didn’t understand most of their conversations but I did catch a certain curly head looking in my direction. He did seem a little confused as to why I was still there, I could tell.

After that it just became a lot of twirls and jumps and steps, one after another. Sometimes an occasional groan would leave some of the skaters mouths.

Other times when the trainer was speaking to Mr. Takahashi, Sugawara would drive by and make stupid faces or even talk with me for a bit. I really got along with him very well from the start. He was just comfortable to be around, I guess.

One time during the training I could basically feel the rage emitting from Sakusas body. He was watching Kageyama some sort of variation I wasn’t familiar with, but I could tell it wasn’t an easy one.

“It’s not as hard as you make it seem. Just dip your knees more.”

Kageyama shortly implied, seemingly disinterested in the fact that Sakusa was fuming.

“What the hell do you not understand, I told you I’m doing exactly what you say and it still doesn’t fucking work-“

“Then you just can’t do it. And you probably never will.”

The blue haired boy stated nonchalant as he looked him dead in the eye.

“What did you just say to me?”

Suddenly a deep voice stopped the boys from tearing each other apart.

“Alright, enough.”

Mr. Watanabe glanced at the bunch and sighed.

“I wanted you to learn from others so you might get a feel of how many different ways there are to approach some things.”

Sakusa didn’t look impressed with his new Trainers comment.

“Sure, I get it but that’s why we hired you to teach me. Not some amateur boys.”

Both of the guys didn’t seem faced by the comment until Kageyama struck a nerve again.

“At least I got first place. You can’t really claim that yourself, can you?”

He walked off without sparing him another glance. Sugawara followed suit as he shrugged.

“Well I guess we’ll see you next competition. Good luck, Sakusa.”

The dark haired boy only gave him a half assed wave as he trudged towards the outer part of the rink.

Sugawara quickly winked at me before leaving.

The Trainer looked his new student up and down, planting a hand on his shoulder.

“You did good today, but we’ll have to work on your attitude.”

Mr. Watanabe turned around, giving me another quick smile.

“You probably shouldn’t keep your girlfriend waiting. See ya next week.”

He proceeded to walk towards the exit until his figure disappeared from our sight.

Now it was just me and him.

“I got third place.”

Sakusa mumbled as he undid his skates. Perking up at his sudden start at conversation I tried saying the first thing that came to mind.

“Oh wow! Sounds great..”

I awkwardly shuffled around as I realized I was clueless as to why he was feeling so down.

“I wouldn’t call that great but sure. Thanks, I guess.”

“What do you mean? You placed 3rd. Isn’t that something to be proud?”

He sighed putting down the skates. Sakusa actually looked me in the eyes this time. Really looked.

“No it isn’t. I’ve trained months for this stupid competition. And then that brat gets first place eventhough he’s only been doing this for what? Three years. It’s pathetic, really.”

I was genuinely starstruck for a moment. He hasn’t ever uttered more than a Hello or grunt to me, and now this.

“I uhm... look-“

Getting myself together, I finally asked what I’ve been wanting to from the start.

“I don’t know much about this stuff, like you said I’m only some employee, but why are you so hard on yourself? I feel like the way you talk doesn’t align with the way you skate. It sometimes sounds like you hate Ice skating but then when u do it-“

I paused again as I looked at the floor, away from his harsh stare. Maybe I am rambling too much.

“It’s like you’re in your own little world without a worry.”

Oh yea, that was probably way too cringey.

Suddenly a dry laugh escaped the boy beside me.

“The way you describe it sure sounds nice. But imagine that almost everyone in those competitions skate like me and the worst thing is, they all want the same thing that I want. So to the judges it all looks the fucking same. It isn’t art anymore. It’s just a sport you need to perfect.”

My eyes catched his for a moment and it felt like time stood still.

“I’m just tired of losing at the only thing I’m truly good at.”

#hq x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #sakusa imagines #sakusa x reader #sakusa fic #sakusa scenarios #haikyuu au #sakusa x you

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angsty-violet · 3 years

Text

In a Flash (I’ll be at your side)

So this year I did the ColdFlash big bang. This is my story. Here is the AO3 link because it is really long. Here is the art link because it is gorgeous and perfect.

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Barry glowered at the man in front of him, marveling at his pure idiocy. The man ducked his head in shame and tried not to look at Barry. “I want you to do your job, Lawrence. You have had plenty of time to deal with the last of the Santini’s men. I want you to start doing what you are supposed to. Now get the hell out of my sight, and don’t you dare come back here before you have taken the last of them out.”

The man ducked his head again and scuttled off. Barry buried his face in his hands and let out the most aggravated sigh he possibly could. This day had been impossibly long, and he wasn’t finished yet. He heard a soft chuckle and turned to his best friend and right-hand man, Eddie Thawne.

“See, boss, this is why you should be delegating. One of the underlings can deal with this sort of nonsense. I know you like a hands-on approach to your people and your business, but this is taking it a little far. You can’t do everything yourself, you know.”

Barry blew out a breath. “Yes, I’m aware. That doesn’t make it any easier. If something gets screwed up, that’s on me. I don’t know where I would stand with punishing someone who was in a leadership position.”

“I’m sure you’d figure it out. Look on the bright side.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Today is Friday.”

Barry lit up at that and grinned at his friend. “You’re right. It’s Friday. What time is it? I want to have on a new suit before we head over there. Maybe one of my new ones, see if I can impress him a little.”

“Just after 4, boss. Home to get dressed?”

“Oh, yes. I need to make a good impression after all.”

ColdFlash

Leonard allowed himself a moment to lean heavily against the bar. He gave a little sigh but continued making drinks. Bartending was better than waiting tables, but that didn’t make it great. However, it was the only day a week he could stand behind the bar and interact with customers as little as possible. Most of them just wanted their drinks anyway, not idle chat, making the experience better than waiting tables.

It was also the only day when Barry Allen was able to talk to him at work without getting him into trouble.

He mostly just kept his head down and did his work. There was talk amongst the managers of letting him have more bartending days. He knew that he could’ve just asked Barry to make it so he worked the bar every day. No one was willing to tell him, no, but he didn’t want to risk someone who needed the money getting bumped.

Saints and Sinners was likely the only bar in town where bartenders made better tips than waiters. Partially because most of their clientele, workers, drop-ins, and even the owner were mob. If you knew how to make the drinks right, give the right kind of alcohol to the right people, you went far. Otherwise, in a week, you’d be out of a job.

He needed this job, at least for a little while longer. He might be able to live endlessly off of Barry’s money, but he wasn’t that kind of man. He wouldn’t allow himself to become overly dependent on Barry’s charity, even if they were together. Eventually, his thieving would get off the ground better. He would be able to take more extensive, better-paying heists. Once he got his business and his reputation up, he’d be doing better.

Then he’d be able to pay for Lisa to go to college wherever she wanted. She was only 8, but Len knew that she was going to go so far. She was going to have a much better life than he did. That was a guarantee.

“I’d like to get a tall glass of you, handsome. Something to quench my thirst and warm me up.”

Leonard smirked at his line. “I’m afraid that I’m a bit too cool for you. You’d be frozen to the ground before you knew it.”

Barry laughed delightedly. “God, you’re sexy. You should come home with me and let me show you just how sexy you are.”

Len’s ears turned pink, and he avoided eye contact. “I’m working, Barry. You know that.”

“I know, honey; I’m just teasing you. You know I like to harass you when you’re at work, and Fridays are the only days that I can do it without being too much in the way. Besides, this is the only job I’m allowed to harass you at. I’ll let off of you if you give me a little kiss on the lips.” Barry knew that it was a long shot. Len hated public displays of affection. However, he figured that he might, just might, be able to get away with it.

Len glanced around and saw that everyone in the area was diligently looking away from the two of them. One of the bonuses when it came to dating a crime king. He leaned over quickly and pecked Barry on the lips.

Barry grinned in delight. “Oh, you are the sweetest thing. I could just eat you up. Hard to believe you ever spare a second glance on little old me. Now darling, can I get a whiskey, neat?”

Len nodded and reached for the top-shelf whiskey. Barry allowed himself an ogle at the tight little bum but resisted the urge to pinch it. Len would be agitated, and he didn’t want to ruin their evening together.

Len poured him two fingers and left the bottle on the bar, knowing that anything claimed by Barry “The Flash” Allen wasn’t going to be touched by anyone else.

Len winced as the thought occurred to him that he fell into that category. Not a single person had dared even to look his direction romantically since Barry had begun to make his attraction known. Now that they were dating, most people would only speak to him when necessary—terrified that it would appear as hitting on someone who belonged to the city’s most dangerous and ruthless mob boss.

He tried not to dwell on thoughts like that too much. They often led to thinking about his past, and if he could never think of his history again, life would be good.

The rest of his shift passed in a blur of bartending and flirting. Listening as Barry tried out every single cheesy pickup line he could think up. Also, he was eavesdropping, just a little, as Barry conducted some late-night business. He completed most of his official mob business at his headquarters, but Len knew that some things happened under the guise of a drink and the cover of a dark corner booth.

He usually didn’t care about the mob business; it didn’t really have any bearing on him. Lately, though, Len had tried to pick up a few tidbits here and there. That kind of information could be beneficial, both at this job and at his other. It might even save his life. Len believed that you could never have too good of an understanding of what was happening in the world. Especially when that world was the crime world.

The night passed in both a flash and a drag. He was desperate to get out of there, which made the time move slowly, but the bar was busy. Friday night, right after the first of the month, they had many drinkers in there. Both of these contributed to his exhaustion once he finally hit the end of his shift. His feet were killing him, and he really wanted to just go home and sleep. This was warring with his want to jump Barry’s bones. He figured he’d decide in the car.

As soon as he had clocked out, Barry wrapped his arm around Len’s waist and led him towards his car. Barry led Len towards the expensive car and then guided into the back seat. Barry sat next to him and gestured for the driver to take them home.

Barry placed a hand on Len’s thigh, sliding it up just a little towards his cock. This pretty much made the decision for him. He wasn’t going to go to sleep, trying to pretend he wasn’t horny, not when he had access to what he wanted so desperately.

Len tried his best to keep the flush down. A battle he assumed he was losing and knew that if he’d let him, Barry would’ve had him in the back of this car right now. But Len had already decided that he didn’t want to do anything that made him feel as though he were nothing but a cheap hooker, someone Barry paid to fuck.

So, they would wait until the two of them were comfortably ensconced in Barry’s overly expensive bed, and Len could be laid out the way that he thought he was entitled to. However, waiting till they got home for the main event didn’t keep Barry from groping, kissing, or dragging him around like this pet. It just meant that he wasn’t allowed to fuck him in front of other people or in semi-public places.

They were silent the majority of the way home. Barry wanted the anticipation to build, and Len was desperately trying to keep from cumming in his pants like a teenager. Every time Barry shot him that smile, though, it made his desperation even stronger. This was only exacerbated by Barry refusing to take his hand off of Len’s thigh. He gave regular squeezes and smiled every time Len looked at him in exasperation.

When they got back to the house, Barry thanked his driver and pulled Len from the car, placing one possessive hand on his neck and one on the small of his back. Pushing him towards the house and towards the one evening where they could do anything they wanted.

Len got one day off a week, and Barry rearranged his whole schedule to also have it off. They had one day where he wasn’t at the bar or doing his other work, and Barry wasn’t going to waste a single second of it. He escorted his lover into the house, a possessive arm around him the whole time.

When they got to the bedroom, Barry nudged him towards the attached bathroom. He didn’t care about how Len smelled when they got home, but he knew that Len did. He wanted a few minutes to shower off the stink of the bar and to take a moment to separate himself from work.

Barry took a moment to appreciate himself in the mirror they kept in the bedroom. It was a bit narcissistic, but he didn’t care. He had explicitly changed to impress Len, and this was definitely impressive. The tailored suit fit him like a glove and helped make his naturally slender frame look more masculine. Unlike Len, he didn’t have the ability to have large bulky muscles or look intimidating with nothing but a towel. He had to stick to more tried and true methods.

He took the time to straighten out his jacket and pants and tame his hair a little. When Barry heard the water turn off and tried not to grin in excitement. This was one of his favorite parts of the evening. He waited for a few more minutes, listening to Len moving around, and then the door opened up, and Len entered the bedroom.

Barry’s breath caught in his throat, and he took a moment to remember how to breathe. Len glanced at him shyly, staying partially out of his line of sight. Despite his penchant for skirts (kilts as he would call them), he wasn’t very comfortable flaunting his occasional cross-dressing, and he wasn’t comfortable with lots of skin exposed.

This outfit combined both of those.

A thin blue camisole covered in lace and a blue miniskirt. Barry grinned and beckoned Leonard closer to him. He approached cautiously, a little skittish in his outfit, but came without any complaints. Barry allowed his hands to slid up the skirt and took a firm grip of the plush ass beneath it.

“Hey, baby. Ready to have a little fun?”

Len nodded, reaching out his arms to place them behind Barry’s neck and sliding firmly into his lap. Barry grinned a little and chuckled. “Someone’s a little eager tonight. Had a rough week?”

Len sighed and pressed his cheek to Barry’s, closing his eyes. “I had this weirdo that kept watching me all week long. He came in every single day. Shawna threw him out after getting a little too close to me and wouldn’t lay off the staring. He was right back in there the next day. Had me on edge and worn out.”

Barry narrowed his eyes. “Baby, you’re supposed to tell me these things when they happen. I know you don’t like how I deal with things, and I won’t, if you ask me not to. However, I at least need to know if you are in any danger. That was our agreement. Remember?”

Len nodded a little, chastened by Barry’s words. “I know, but it didn’t seem like that big of a deal. A lot of guys stare. Usually, they just want to think they have a chance with me. There was something else about this guy, though. He had the oddest look on his face. Almost like he expected me to recognize him, but if I do know him, I couldn’t figure out who he was.”

“I’ll have someone look into it in the morning. Now, where were we?” Barry pressed a harsh kiss to Len’s lips, nipping lightly at the bottom one. Then he firmly gripped Len’s waist, sliding his hands underneath the camisole and pressing upwards, searching out the little pink nipples. Len arched into the touch as Barry tweaked his nipples and moaned out loud. Barry smiled lightly at him.

“You are such a sweet lover. I don’t know how anyone keeps their hands off of you.”

“Mm, you.”

Barry smirked as Len entered his nonverbal phase of arousal. It happened a lot when he was comfortable. His words just escaping him as he became aroused. Barry liked to try and get him to talk even with it.

“Oh? Me? You say that like I scare away all the people that want to grope your perfect ass. I just don’t think that’s true.” He pressed one of his fingers against the tight opening, and Len whimpered.

“You-ahh-do. Scare them. They think you own me.”

Barry smirked possessive, “Do they now?”

Len glowered at him, and Barry pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I don’t own you, of course. You are your own person, and you can leave whenever you want. You are with me because you are choosing to be with me. Which in my mind,” Barry flipped them, so Len was on his back underneath him, “is a million times hotter than owning you. You have the choice to be with anyone that you could possibly want, and you decided to be with me. It's scorching in my mind, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Len relaxed. He smiled soft and slow and pressed a langued kiss against Barry’s lips, pulling back before Barry had the chance to introduce any tongue. Barry smiled at him and then reached for the lube bottle that he kept on the table beside the bed.

He slicked up his fingers with plenty of lube and pressed one to Len’s puckered entrance. They didn’t have sex nearly as often as Barry would’ve liked, their schedules not allowing it. However, every day was likely an impossibility anyway. Neither of them had that kind of stamina. Even Len, as young as he was, had limits. However, they did it often enough that they were usually able to keep Len mostly open. Len slid his hands up to his own nipples and then began to play with them gently. He liked the feeling of light tugging.

Before long, Barry was sliding a second finger in, and Len moaned at the feeling. Barry grinned at him and pressed a kiss to his thigh, just to the left of his erect cock. Len reached for his cock with one of his hands to give it a stroke, but Barry batted his hand away, not allowing him the satisfaction.

“You know better than that baby. If you’re, going to cum tonight, it’s going to be from my cock and nothing else.”

“Bastard. I don’t know why I stay with you.”

Barry grinned in delight and bit Len’s thigh, sucking just enough to leave a mark.

“I’m wonderful in bed. Besides, you like being tormented. Like the feeling of a cock pressing into you, the desperate build that comes from knowing that your satisfaction relies entirely on how well I fuck you. If I choose to fuck you at all. One of the reasons I love you. Go on, then, play with your tits. Pinch and torment them the way you like.”

Len nearly shrieked when his fingers pressed against his prostate. Finally, moving his hands away from the abused nubs. He was going to need them in a minute. Barry pulled out his fingers and slicked up his cock. He chose to start off with a bit of teasing. Nudging the head around the hole, pressing in only a little.

“Give me more asshole!” It seemed he was a lot more verbal this go around. Barry must not be doing his job properly.

Barry gave Len a punishing slap on his ass but decided to comply anyway. He started pushing in steadily. Stopping halfway through because he feared that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. Once he had his breath back and knew he wouldn’t embarrass himself, he continued with the steady inward push. Once Barry was seated deep inside of his lover, he paused and waited for a moment, wanting to tease him just a little more. Len let out a desperate sound and tried to push back, and Barry took pity on him.

“Is this how you want it gorgeous? Want it hard and fast?”

“Yes! Please, more!”

He pulled out fast and then thrust into him harshly, and for a few moments, there was only the sound of panting and skin slapping, with the occasional moan thrown in. Sometimes Barry wished that his lover would be more vocal in bed. Then he remembered the pure pride he felt at wrenching those few and far between sounds out of him.

“God, I could just keep you like this forever and ever. You’d never leave my bed; all you would ever do is just service me when and where I wanted it. would you like that, huh?”

Once Barry got his rhythm, he adjusted his angle and began to strike that beautiful little place inside Len. Len continued to moan and beg for more. It had been too many days since they had sex, and he was desperate. Len wrapped his arms around Barry’s shoulders and pulled himself into an even better angle.

“Oh, God, Yes! Len. You feel so good, you are so good. You are unbelievable.”

After that, it didn’t take long for either of them. The extra stimulation was enough for Len to start towards his climax and the feeling of friction urging Barry on and on. Len was first, arching up and spilling all over both of them, coming untouched as he often did when it had been awhile. He made absolutely no noise. Simply clenched his teeth and came forcefully. To Barry, it was hotter than anything else he could’ve done.

Only a few thrusts later, and Barry followed, filling up his boyfriend and shouting “Len” at the top of his lungs. He pressed in close, bottoming out completely. He could feel the warm cum flooding into his lover, and if he had been 10 years younger, it might have inspired another round. However, he wasn’t. 1 round this intense was pretty much all he could take. He pulled out carefully.

The two collapsed in the bed together. Barry reached out to Len and pulled him close. Len followed, pressing his face to Barry’s chest, and Len silently decided that the clean-up could wait. He usually preferred to get cleaned up right away, but he knew that this was only round one.

They might not be able to get it up right away, but an hour of pillow talk and dozing, and they’d be ready to go. They had all night to make the sheets filthy. After they got through a few more, they would change the sheets and go to bed. Until that point, it was just a futile effort.

ColdFlash

When Barry woke up, he gave a deep sigh and glanced over at his lover. Len was still asleep, his eyes shut and pressed close to Barry. Barry extricated himself from his lover’s grip and decided to make them both breakfast.

“So, what do you want to do today?” Barry questioned over his omelet. Len shrugged and took another bite of his own scrambled eggs.

“I need to do some work this morning. Play around with a few blueprints. Didn’t plan anything beyond that, so whatever you feel like.”

Barry grinned, delighted. “You’re going to regret that. I’m taking you out for a new tailored suit. We can run a few more errands while we’re out, but that’s the main thing I want to do today. Sound good?”

Len sighed but acquiesced. Barry wanted to get Len into a designer suit right after they met, but there was never any time; now was as good a time as any.

ColdFlash

Len let himself into the office where he did his work. Barry had his own office, and the two of them had long ago agreed to stay out of each other’s workspaces. There was too much stepping on toes when they were involved with the other's work.

He pulled out his current project and laid it out on the large drafting desk he worked at. He then started to make notes and jot possible times on a little notepad, making sure to write everything he thought of down. Then he started the beginning of a workable plan for his next job.

Stealing the most expensive piece from the current ruby display at the museum wasn’t going to be any cakewalk. He worked diligently for several hours. Losing himself in the calming motions of work. He didn’t realize just how much time had passed until he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. Len startled a bit, but the relaxed when he realized it was only Barry.

“Hey, handsome. It’s been nearly 2 hours. Get ready to be done. We are spending today together.”

Len blinked at him in startlement and knew better than to argue. “I hadn’t realized I’d worked for so long. You should’ve come and got me earlier. I just got caught up in all of the little details. Let me put a few things away, change, and then we can go do your suit fitting. Alright?”

Barry nodded in agreement, and Len left the room.

ColdFlash

After Len finished changing, they made their way to Barry’s tailor, who immediately began planning Len's perfect suit.

“He is broader in the shoulders but still so slender, particularly in his waist. He needs a cut that flatters his sharp features, no?”

“I agree, Anthony. Something that makes him stand out in the crowd but also says, ‘taken, back off.’”

Anthony grinned at him and nodded, knowing what he meant. Len was beginning to get bored watching the two of them talk about suits, mostly since they had already done the measurements and looked at suit cuts. There was a part of him that would never adjust to the expensive way he now lived. This was Barry’s world. Len would always be the kid from the wrong part of Central.

Barry seemed to realize his boredom and wrapped up his conversation, then he led him out of the shop and into downtown. The two of them wandered up and down the street. Occasionally they popped in and out of shops, buying things, and for a while, things were perfect. It was a perfect day off and a perfect day for a perfect date. Unfortunately, it didn’t last.

ColdFlash

When Len woke up, he noticed that his eyes were covered and his hands were tied behind his back. He tugged lightly at the bonds, but they were professional and didn’t budge an inch. They had been deftly attached to each other and the chair he was on. His feet were bound tightly to the legs as well. He breathed softly and listened carefully, trying to get an indicator of where he was.

He had only stepped away from Barry for a moment. He wanted to give him privacy while he was taking a business call. It was always best to know as little as possible about work that didn’t include him. Made him less of a target to Barry’s enemies. Then he felt a pinch in his neck and had woken up here. Despite trying to seem like he was still unconscious, he must have been discovered because he heard a man begin to speak.

“I’ve wanted to meet you for some time, Mr. Snart. I’m dying to get to know The Flash’s pet thief. The one who spends part of his time stealing from all of Mr. Allen’s enemies and part of his time working at a bar. Such an interesting fellow you must be. So young, but you are so talented.”

Len sighed but gave up the act. “I’m afraid I can’t say the same thing for you as I don’t know who you are.”

Another deep chuckle, this time very menacing. Len had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the cliché. “Well, I really would love to tell you, but if you knew my identity, I would need to kill you. You are simply too beautiful to waste on something like that. You can just call me Sir.”

A hand settled on his thigh. Len didn’t like where this was going; kidnapping and threatening bodily harm were one thing, sexual advances were another. “Well, Sir,” he said ‘Sir’ in the most condescending way he possibly could. “Can I at least know why I’m here?”

“Mm, yes, you can. The Flash has something of mine, and I want it back. Something you didn’t steal. He’s either going to hand it over to me in exchange for you, or we’ll keep you. I would like to say that there’s no chance we won’t kill you, but that would be a lie. We most certainly would kill you if you got out of hand. But I don’t think it will come to that, do you? Besides, if that were to happen, we would want to get our money’s worth, and you have such a lovely body.”

Len shivered at the tone and nodded in agreement. He had no way of knowing when Barry was going to get around to this, or if he even could deal with it. It was impossible to know these days. It was best to bide his time and hope that Barry could get him out of here. That meant playing along with this psychos plans.

ColdFlash

“Find him! Right now! Do you have any idea where he is? A single clue?”

“Boss,” Eddie placed a hand on his arm. “It’s only been a couple of hours. We’re going to find him and bring him home. You’ll see. We’re working on getting him back here as soon as possible. Right now, we need to be calm; that is the best way to locate him. Alright?”

Barry took a deep breath and nodded. He narrowed his eyes and thought desperately of who hated either of them enough or had the guts to do it in broad daylight. The list was short but Barry knew that he was probably missing some.

“Check to see what the Santinis are up to. My money’s on them. They wanted a war between us. This is a sure-fire way to get it.”

ColdFlash

Len was a little concerned about how cold he was. In this damp weather hypothermia was a definite risk. He shivered a little and sighed. At least there were no strange hands on him right now. It seemed that every time he relaxed, someone would slide their hands along his body. He was getting sick of it. When he got out of here, he was going to kill every single one of those bastards.

“I’ve sent the ransom note. Let’s hope that Mr. Allen loves you as much as we think he does. I have to say though, even if he doesn’t, we’re going to come out ahead. Some acquisitions can be very lucrative even when you were planning on exchanging them for something else. Are you curious about what we’re trading you for?”

Len ignored the bit where he was relegated to an object. “I suppose I am. Kidnapping is hard. You have to get your victim away from prying eyes as quickly as possible. Then you need a place to store them while you work out the ransom agreement. Someplace that no one ever goes but can get to easily, if need be. It’s tricky business, so whatever you’re after, must be important.”

The man laughed. “You are a very astute man; I can see why Mr. Allen thinks so highly of you. You see, Mr. Snart, we are after the blueprints to S.T.A.R labs.”

Len paled at the thought of these monsters with possible access to all sorts of dangerous new technology. S.T.A.R Labs was known for its production of weapons. Powerful, vicious weapons that are used in some of the worst situations in the world. The mere thought of them having something like that made his stomach turn in a horrible way.

The man seemed to sense his horror, or maybe it read on his mostly uncovered face. “I’m sure you are imagining all sorts of horrid things that we might do with all those lovely little toys. We’re only after one thing, though. If we have access to others, we might allow a bit of a detour, but we aren’t focusing on those wonderfully powerful weapons. We have something else in mind.”

The man leaned very close to Len. Len breathed out tensely, not daring to move with his presence so near. It took everything in him not to recoil when he felt lips press against his ear.

“I’d tell you what we were looking for, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’d have to either kill you or keep you forever. I don’t think you’d like that very much, would you darling?”

Len gritted his teeth. “No, I wouldn’t,” he said.

“I didn’t think so. Now darling, we just need to wait for your lover’s reply and hope that it’s a favorable one. You just sit tight. This should all be over in a few hours.”

Len heard the steps as the man walked away, and regardless of who was watching, hung his head. He didn’t want to deal with this situation at all. Partially because the idea to break into S.T.A.R labs had also occurred to him.

ColdFlash

Barry’s hands clenched as he read the ransom note. Did this punk think that he would get away with taking his beloved, stealing him away, and then attempting to ransom him? What kind of moron went after his lover?

“Eddie,” Barry growled.

“Yes, boss?”

“I want you to track down exactly who wrote this note and where it came from. I imagine you won’t have much trouble since whoever wrote it didn’t make Len do the writing. See if you can find any traces that indicate where he’s being held.”

Eddie nodded and then hesitated. It seemed for a moment that he wanted to reassure his old friend. To tell him that they would get his lover back. He had a feeling, though that it wouldn’t do much good. Barry wouldn’t be at ease until they had Len back safe and sound.

“If it comes down to it, we will hand over the blueprints.”

Eddie stared at him aghast. “You’re not serious?”

“I am completely serious. I will not lose Len over a bunch of papers. No matter how valuable they are. I am aware of what the blueprints are and what they could mean. Despite that, I refuse to lose him. Do you have a problem with that?”

Eddie regarded him for a moment and then shook his head. “No, Sir. I’ll start trying to figure out where he is. Perhaps it would be best if you contacted them and informed them that you were complying. That would help guarantee Mr. Snart’s safe return. If they know for sure that you are doing what they want you to.”

Barry nodded in agreement. “Let’s find him before it becomes necessary.”

ColdFlash

Len wasn’t enjoying his stay with the assorted menacing goons. He was cold and hungry, and all he wanted to do was go home and not have to deal with this mess. Len desperately hoped that Barry was coming to get him because his plan making was failing him. No matter how hard he tried to gather more information, all he came up with was a blank.

He was someplace cold. Not rare in Central City being so close to the water. It was industrial. Again, not unusual. That was all he could glean with the blindfold on. Since someone was watching him continuously, he had no hope of attempting to work the blindfold off. With it on, he was limited to what he could hear and feel, which was hardly anything.

He heard the clomp of boots that he had come to associate with Menacing Goon in charge of other Goons and tilted his head towards the sound. He flinched back when a finger traced along his face and down his neck.

“You’re in luck. Your boyfriend wants his toy back, and he’s willing to trade us for you. I’m sure you’re glad that he actually cares about you. I would’ve thought he’d be willing to throw you over. That does mean we won’t get to have our fun, but I think the blueprints will be an adequate substitute.”

Len resisted the urge to glare at him. Likely Menacing Goon wouldn’t even see it. He knew that Barry loved him, that he was more than just a toy to pass the time with. He was comfortable in his relationship with the crime lord that Barry saw him as an equal, some he was on par with, despite the age difference. He knew all of that.

So then why did his stomach tie into knots?

The rope that bound him to the chair was severed. Although that still left his hands tied behind his back and the blindfold, he felt better about his odds. He was unceremoniously pushed down the corridor. He stumbled because he couldn’t see, and he heard a grunt of annoyance at his slow pace.

Someone took his arm and began to drag him along the corridor at a much faster pace. Len did his best to keep his footing and not fall. He wasn’t going to let these people have the satisfaction. He desperately wanted to be reunited with Barry.

So, he could watch the crime boss kill every single one of these motherfuckers.

ColdFlash

Len didn’t know where he was being taken to be exchanged. He attempted to keep track of how long it had been and then calculate it, but that was mostly in vain. Although there were only a few places he could be kept, dozens of locations from each of those spots they could’ve driven to. Most of the city was well within the possible area.

All he could do was sit back and hope that whatever happened next was going to be in his favor. Although he knew Barry would try everything to safely get him back, he also knew that these kinds of exchanges often went horribly wrong. He closed his eyes behind the blindfold and hoped desperately for this to all be over.

The van came to a halt, and he heard someone get out, and someone else, presumably, get in. He jumped when he felt a familiar hand on his thigh.

“We made good time. We’re here nearly an hour early; it seems a waste to just sit here and wait. Why don’t you and I spend a little time getting to know each other.”

Len felt bile rise in his throat. His voice seemed caught, and all he could do was shake his head.

“No need to be shy. Your boyfriend never needs to find out. The two of us could just spend a few minutes learning each other’s bodies, and that will be that. Or I could always just put a bullet between your precious lover’s eyes as soon as he gets here. Would you prefer that?”

Len went pale and desperately shook his head.

“Then, darling, why don’t you keep those lips closed and just hang on for the ride?”

Len kept his eyes closed behind his blindfold. He figured it might help blot out what was about to happen to him.

ColdFlash

Eddie finished his phone call and glanced at Barry, giving him a defined nod. That was the signal that everything of value had been moved out of S.T.A.R labs and replaced with useless junk. He might be willing to hand over the blueprints, but he wasn’t going to allow the bastard the satisfaction of getting his hands on whatever he was after.

The trick was to do it before he gave the blueprints, so when they started casing the joint, they didn’t see anything that seemed overtly suspicious. Barry nodded back and then picked up the plans. He had multiple copies, so he wasn’t losing anything, but he still didn’t like giving up something that was his.

He wanted Len back a hell of a lot more, though.

He made his way to the car, where Eddie would be driving him to the rendezvous point. He took the back seat, and Eddie assumed his role as driver. Barry allowed himself a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. It wouldn’t do to lose his temper in the middle and Len get caught in the middle of a firefight.

Eddie shot him a look in the mirror but didn’t say anything. For which Barry was very grateful. The last thing he wanted to do was admit just how badly this whole event had shaken him. That he could have the one thing that meant more to him than anything else in the world be taken from him so easily. That he would become so helpless in the face of a true adversary.

Before he knew it, they were arriving at the rendezvous spot. He could see the dark van already in the abandoned parking lot and knew that it contained his lover. He wondered when it had gotten there; Barry himself was very early. What was going on?

“Something’s wrong.” He said this to Eddie, who nodded at the words. Barry pulled out his sidearm and watched as Eddie did the same. They both checked the weapons, made sure they were fully loaded, and they started towards the van, parked in the middle of the parking lot.

On the far side of the van, just out of eyesight was one of the men. Barry gestured to Eddie to make his move and soon the enemy was laying on the ground unconscious. It crossed Barry’s mind that the van could be filled with people. In a few seconds they might be outnumbered and taken out without a chance of rescuing Len. Barry doubted it though. This wasn’t a well thought out professional job. It was someone hoping to get their hands on something they shouldn’t the easiest way they could think of.

There was a second goon out of sight. He saw them and gave as shout to alert whoever was inside of the vehicle before Eddie brough him to the ground. It didn’t matter, they had the advantage of surprise and it all would be over soon. They shot the two men sitting in the front of the van before they could even get out of their seats.

Barry moved quickly to the back of the van. He whipped open the doors and saw red. Len’s hands were tied, and he was blindfolded, but he didn’t look much worse for wear. What upset him was the sight of the asshole’s hand on his thigh. He gave a growl and was about ready to attack when the man pressed a guy to Len’s head.

Barry stopped and looked at him carefully, tamping down on his temper in the process, wondering if he indeed was willing to shoot Len or if it was a bluff. He decided that he didn’t want to take the chance that the man was a psycho ready to shoot a blindfolded unarmed man and held his hands up in surrender. He still had Eddie with him, and Len wasn’t out for the count, even tied up.

ColdFlash

Len kept his eyes closed behind the blindfold and was startled by a loud shout from one of the men. He opened them again, although he still couldn’t see anything. His captor made a noise of anger and shifted a little. He heard two gunshots and figured that this entire situation was about to be over. Barry had come for him.

Next to him, the man yanked him close, pressed a gun to his head, and then placed his other hand possessively on Len’s thigh. Len figured that he was going to be threatened so that the man could get away.

Len wasn’t going to put up with it, all he needed was a single moment, and he could be free. It wouldn’t even take that much energy.

“Mr. Allen, I see that you broke our agreement.”

“Actually no, you see, I was just a few minutes early when I saw the van was over here. Figured we could get the trade out of the way. It was your men that attacked. This is all on your people.”

Len wished he could see his lover’s face but knew that trying to dislodge the blindfold could be deadly. He just needed a few more moments to work his hands from the ropes, and he would be able to move. He heard that horrible chuckle again, and it set his nerves on edge. The man clearly thought he had the upper hand, and he might very well have it. If he did, it could mean that Len’s attack would mean nothing. If he didn’t, it would mean the whole thing was over.

“I will give you the blueprints. I just need you to hand over Leonard. This doesn’t need to end in bloodshed.”

“Oh, Mr. Allen, it most definitely does. You were never supposed to see who I was. With your knowledge of my identity, I know that it is just a matter of time before you come after me. I won’t stand for it. I’m afraid that I am just going to have to kill you both.”

There! Len finally got both of his hands worked free of the bindings, and he knew the time was to act now. If the man actually still had some of his goons left, they already would’ve attacked. No attack, no goons, which meant that the only thing complicating this was Len, and he could finish it.

ColdFlash

Barry could see Len pulling his hands out of the ropes out of the corner of his eye. He just needed to stall for time until his lover could do so. He offered up the trade even though he knew it was pointless. As soon as he and Eddie had attacked, he had known it was never going to be a smooth transaction. Men like these always had a bit of an ace up their sleeve.

He didn’t allow the anger at seeing another touch his lover continue cloud his mind. He could kill this bastard as soon as Len was safe if Len didn’t do it first. He watched as Len finally managed to get his hands free of the ropes and winced at the thought of the rope burn he would have.

Len was able to get the man by surprise. One minute he was the docile hostage, the next, he had his hands around the throat. Thankfully, the man had pressed very close to him, allowing Len to know precisely where he was. Otherwise, the blindfold could’ve inhibited him. He clamped down on the throat and did his best to strangle the life out of his hostage-taker.

Len was so focused on his task that he completely missed Barry moving closer to him. However, he didn’t miss his lover pulling the blindfold away from his eyes and restoring his sight. For the first time, Len laid eyes on his hostage-taker. A man that had threatened to rape and murder him.

His face was shockingly normal and gave nothing of his cruel nature away. He was also startlingly familiar. Len realized precisely who this man was. Callum Miani, the Santinis’ enforcer. A man who was attempting to move into the mob business by shoving others out of it. Len knew him because they had worked a few jobs together, a few years ago when Len was still young and needed help. His identity explained his threats to Len. The man was obsessed with him, both in Len’s refusal to climb into his bed and the fact that Len was a much better thief.

Len was so startled by the realization that he relaxed his grip and slumped backward. It didn’t matter, though. Barry was already pushing a gun to Maini’s head and tugging Len out of harm’s way. Len went placidly, too shocked to object.

“Alright, Len?”

Eddie’s questions startled Len badly, and he turned to look at the man in surprise.

“Yeah, I’m okay. You guys got me out of the situation before he could do anything too bad to me. Thank you for that. Thanks for coming along to rescue me at all. I know that Barry would’ve let you off if you had said you didn’t want to come. Means a lot to me.”

“Yeah, well, you saving Iris’ life means a lot to me. It seems only appropriate that I respond in kind. You’re one of us now, even if you are a thief. Not like we can object really to the illegality. Just don’t like someone showing us up in the business.”

“Still, thank you for coming.”

“Come on, Len, we can let Barry deal with this scum sucker. Get you into the car and warmed up again. I’m sure you are thirsty and probably hungry. You just watch, in a few days, all of this is going to be behind you, and you can get on with your life. Forgot all about this asshole screwing up your day off.”

Len allowed Eddie to lead him from the van. To lead him away from the man who threatened horrible things on him, and to where the car was parked. Eddie opened up the back door, and Len slid in. He glanced at Eddie, seeming to consider something, and then spoke.

“Tell Barry to make it as painful as possible. You wouldn’t believe the things that he threatened to do to me.”

Eddie gave him a considering glance and nodded. Then he closed the door and walked back to where the van was. Len wanted to stay awake until Barry came back, and he knew that both of them were safe, but he didn’t have the energy. He thought he would just close his eyes for a few moments to get some energy back. Before Len knew it, he was sound asleep in the car, dead to the world.

ColdFlash

When Len woke up, he was relieved to see that he was back in Barry’s house, lying in their bed. For a moment, he thought that it might all have been a nightmare, something conjured up by his paranoid exhausted brain. However, when he sat up and felt the bruises, he knew that it was all true. The kidnapping, the threats, and Barry and Eddie dealing with the bastard.

Len felt a little sorry that he hadn’t been able to fulfill his wish of killing every single one of those assholes who had dared think they could ever lay their hands on him. Len assured himself that Barry dealt with it and likely did a much more painful and creative job than he ever did.

Len was relieved that although Barry had brought him home, that he hadn’t been undressed. As safe as Barry made him feel, he would’ve been very uncomfortable to find that someone had taken his clothes while he was asleep. It was nice to know that Barry understood his boundaries well enough to know that.

Len allowed himself the rare luxury of simply lying in bed, doing nothing. Usually, he would get up and start working on his endless plans, but today he just allowed himself the comfort of home. He figured that anything he had to do could wait until he had his emotions and life a little better under control. Nothing was pressing anyway and he deserved some time off to recover.

Len came out of his thoughts when he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. For a moment, his paranoid brain spat out several horrible scenarios where his kidnappers had returned to reclaim him. Managing to kill every single guard, employee, and even Barry in their way. That they would rip him from the world he lived in and send him back to the horrible dark, cold place.

After a moment of deep breathing, he regained control of his wild thoughts. He knew the sound of those footsteps. He heard them every single day. That sound was ingrained in his mind from Barry returning from late hours with business or needing to get up early to make a meeting. Len was perfectly safe here; he just needed to convince his pounding heart about that.

Len heard a knock on the door and breathed deeply to steel his nerves. “Come in.” He was glad to see that his instincts were right. Barry was carrying a tray piled with food, carafes, and tableware. Len was a little surprised. Barry was shockingly against breakfast in bed. He claimed that it was much easier to get up and go to the table. That way, you had plenty of room and didn’t have to worry about crumbs getting into your bedsheets. Today seemed to be the exception. Len sat up and gave Barry a smile, but even he could feel its brittleness. No doubt, Barry could as well.

“Hey handsome, I brought you some breakfast. I figured you’d be up by now and needing a little pampering, especially after the time you’ve had. I just brought you up to bed last night. You were so exhausted I didn’t want to wake you. You’re more than welcome to have a shower and freshen up before you eat. I can’t imagine it’s very comfortable to be like that.”

“You always seem to know exactly what I need, Barry. I’ll just pop into the shower, have a quick rinse off, and then put on some clean clothes. Then I’ll eat.”

Barry smiled patiently at him. “If I couldn’t take care of you the way you deserve to be taken care of, you’d have no reason to stay with me, would you?”

Len tilted his head in a teasing manner and sent a lewd glance towards Barry’s crotch. “Oh, I think that I could come up with a few more if I thought very hard about it.”

“Go ahead and get cleaned up, you tease.”

ColdFlash

Barry couldn’t help the pure relief that came with Len’s teasing. He didn’t know what had gone on while he had been in Miani’s confinement, and without knowing, he had no idea what Len might be dealing with, no clue as to what might trigger him. Or even if anything would trigger him at all. Without that, he would need to tread carefully, at least until Len was more comfortable in his presence. Until he felt he could reveal what he needed to.

That had been part of the reason he hadn’t undressed Len the night before. Usually, he wouldn’t have hesitated. They had been together long enough that a few lost clothes wouldn’t phase either of them. However, Len wasn’t a fan of strangers touching him on an average day. Barry had no clue how much physical contact he would’ve been subjected to during his captivity. Len’s veiled comment about the threats against his person didn’t inspire too much confidence.

He listened as Len showered and set the tray on Len’s dresser. He took the chance to make the bed, fluffing the pillows and settled onto it, waiting anxiously for his lover to return. As little as he wanted to subject Len to any more emotional upheaval, they had to talk about what happened while he was captured. He needed to be reassured that he was safe from Miani and the accompanying goons.

Otherwise, any trauma he experienced would cement and become an underlying issue in his life. It was better to get it out in the open and out of the way before that happened. Even small traumas could haunt you for the rest of your life if they weren’t deal with properly. Then, Len could begin to heal from this experience.

Barry heard the water shut off and listened as Len shaved at the sink. He went to the closet and picked out Len’s softest, most comfortable clothing. The things he only wore on days he didn’t plan on leaving the house. He knocked on the door, and after a moment of silence, he heard Len say come in.

Barry only cracked open the door and handed him the clothing. Len thanked him softly and took it, shutting the door once he had it. Barry tried not to be discouraged about not being invited in or Len leaving the door open. Len had had a long few days. He could want to get cleaned up as fast as possible without any distractions. Or he could be uncomfortable with someone seeing him naked.

Barry ordered himself to stop catastrophizing. Until Len talked to him, he had no way of knowing what went on. After their talk he could freak out about what happened. Until then, he would hope for the best while treating Len like the worst happened.

Len exited the bathroom in fresh, clean clothes. Barry stood up and moved for the breakfast tray. “Have a seat. This is the only time you have permission to get crumbs all over the bed. I planned on changing the sheets today anyway.”

ColdFlash

Len gave him a smile and sat against the headboard. Barry knew how to treat him, and he really did need a bit of pampering. Barry brought over the tray and set it over Len’s lap then sat next to him. For a few minutes, the only sound was the two of them enjoying their breakfast. Barry allowed Len to become comfortable with him and then broached the subject.

“If you don’t want to talk about what happened right now, you don’t have to. I just want you to know that I am right here if you have anything to say about what happened.”

Len gazed at the breakfast tray, thinking over his response. Truth be told, he didn’t really want to talk about what happened ever, but he knew he should. That the faster he got it out in the open, the faster he could leave it all behind. That didn’t make it any easier, though.

“I woke up, blindfolded, and tied to a chair. I wasn’t sure where I was, and my memory of being snatched was foggy at best. I knew that you were going to come looking for me and that I would be out of danger soon enough, so I didn’t panic.”

“I feel like there’s a “but” coming.”

“I knew I wasn’t in any danger. However, the way he talked to me, the way I could feel him leering unsettled me. I was supposed to just be a business transaction, his behavior wasn’t what I expected, and that unnerved me. I couldn’t get a feel on where I was being kept, which made things worse. I had trouble keeping perspective. Then when he told me what I was being traded for, I was worried about what would be done with what he was stealing.”

Barry tilted his head and gently placed a hand on his cheek. “You had to have known I wouldn’t let someone like that get something really dangerous. I had everything moved before I set the time for our trade. Got it out of the way before he would even have people watching the place. You had to know I would take care of things.”

“I knew that logically. My emotions had other ideas. I was worried about what would happen if he really did get his hands on what he was looking for. Or, if you got caught in the middle of his plan and killed. Or, even if you decided that it wasn’t worth the chance to turn over the blueprints and that I would be gang-raped and murdered.”

Barry drew back, feeling a little offended, and took a moment to remind himself that Len didn’t really think that way. It was just fear from the situation combining with his concern over some assholes destroying the city with a super-powerful weapon. Now was not the time to blame his boyfriend for his emotional response.

“I know that it must’ve been terrifying, but I need to know that there is nothing in this world worth more to me than you. You are my number one priority, and I would burn down this entire city, the entire world, if it meant keeping you safe. No matter what your terrified mind may tell you in a moment of terror, you will always be my number one priority.”

Len sighed softly and pressed his head against Barry’s chest. “I know that. I know you would make sure that no one would ever do something like that to me. If you’re dead, though, you won’t be able to stop anyone from doing anything to me. There is always going to be a worry that one day some psycho is going to kill you and take me, and there won’t be anything either of us can do.”

Barry pressed his face into Len’s hair and stroked it gently. “I don’t think you are giving yourself nearly enough credit, darling. You were a massive help in your own rescue. You were able to keep a calm head even when he was threatening to rape or murder you. You are a good fighter and loyal to me. If worse comes to worst, you could do some serious damage. Truthfully, the only reason they got their hands on you is that we weren’t together. Together, we could face the world.”

Len looked up at him with a tilted head and smiled. “Together, we can face anything. We will face anything. God, Barry, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Barry leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m sure you can come up with something, my love. You are the smartest person I’ve ever met, and the only one that always lands on his feet when things go wrong.”

Len smirked and leaned up for a kiss on the lips. “You know me, throw away the plan.”

#the flash #coldflash #leonard snart/barry allen #leonard snart #barry allen #established relationship #attempted noncon #protective barry allen #hurt leonard snart #mafia au #mafia boss barry #bartender and thief leonard #coldflash big bang 2020

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