#Also guess who was already interested (to put it mildly) in the red haired man before playing and is now absolutely obsessed with him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

randomshyperson · 4 years ago

Text

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - The First Year

Series Masterlist || Read on AO3

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies.

Chapters will have additional warning when necessary.

Tag list ( let me know if you want to be tagged or removed idk haha) @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia

//////////////////////////////////

Part I - The First Year

Hogwarts will be fun was the first thought you had when you opened the letter in your hands.

Tony, your older brother, ruffled your hair slightly as he came down into the kitchen and watched you open the mail.

"Your letter finally arrived, huh, little witch?" He joked with a smile as he sat down at the table.

"I can't wait to go!" You commented excitedly rereading the acceptance letter for the third time.

"Miss, after coffee, can we go to diagonal alley if you like?" Jarvis, your butler, asked you politely as he poured Tony's coffee making you hesitate slightly. Tony, who had his eye on you, forced a smile as he patted you on the arm.

"I'll go with you, don't worry." He assured and you nodded.

"I wish dad would come." You grumble as you sit down and Tony sighs.

" Yeah, me too." He says. "But you know he's busy, and we can't leave it to the last minute."

You mumble in agreement as you serve some sweetbreads on your plate.

Eating in silence for a few moments, you are startled slightly when Tony lets out an exclamation.

"Damn, I forgot to write back to Steve." He announces getting up and walking over to the next shelf where there were some stationery and pen.

"Your boyfriend will be upset." You tease lightly, and Tony mumbles softly without responding.

When he finishes writing the letter, he goes to the kitchen window and opens the metal, whistling loudly in a familiar rhythm. A few seconds later, Iron, his barn owl lands in front of him. Tony stroked the animal gently before dangling the letter in his paws.

" Please take this to Steve, Iron." He ordered and the animal made a noise before flying away again.

"Jarvis, I'll get ready to go." You tell the man as soon as you finish eating and head off toward the stairs.

//-//

Diagonal Alley is a noisy place.

Tony asked you to walk beside him, but you stopped walking at the first Quidditch shop you spotted, and he had to turn back halfway when he noticed you were no longer beside him.

"Don't do that." He warned, mildly annoyed, but you glazed over at the exposed broom in front of you, and he let out a chuckle when he noticed. "Come on, Y/N, you already have a broom."

"But that's no ordinary broom." You retorted with an impressed look. "It's a Nimbus 2000, it's the fastest broom there is."

"You have the 99, I don't understand the difference." He retorted with his hands in his pockets and you shrugged.

"Tony, can we buy it?" You asked pleadingly, making your brother laugh slightly.

"Let's buy your stuff first please" He retorted with a smile and you grumbled but accepted the arm he offered for you to hang on. Jarvis walked behind you with a keen eye on your surroundings.

After you had bought the vast majority of your supplies and replenished your stocks of potions items for Tony, Jarvis took you to Blossoms and Blurbs to buy this year's books.

"Good morning! Hogwarts, third and first year books, please." You heard Jarvis tell the clerk who approached you three. Tony nodded his head signaling you to feel free to walk around the bookstore in the meantime, and that is exactly what you did.

You found many interesting books in the place as you walked among the shelves. One in particular caught your attention, as there seemed to be little miniature magical creatures trying to jump out of the cover, and you grabbed it on a table, watching the item carefully.

You smiled when an ink dragon jumped into your hand, moving your head as if you were looking around. Distracted by the book, you let out a low exclamation when someone bumped into you.

"Sorry, kid." You heard a female voice speak in a humorous tone. It is a girl taller than you, short red hair. "I ended up tripping over some of those runner books."

"It's okay." You said with a smile. The girl looked at the one book in your hands for a moment.

"Do you enjoy creature tracts?" She asks casually as she reaches for a book on the bookshelf beside her.

"I don't know yet." You say and she looks at you slightly confused, "I never studied."

"Ah, first-year." She understands and you nod in agreement. "Hogwarts too or some other?"

"Hogwarts."

"Cool, I guess I'll see you there then." She says. "I'm from Slytherin, third year."

You let out a surprised exclamation.

"Maybe you know my brother." You say and the girl takes her gaze from the books in her hand she was checking to look at you with her eyebrow raised in curiosity. "His name is Tony Stark, he's also from your house."

The girl lets out a short laugh.

"I can't believe you are Stark's sister." She says. "We're not exactly friends, but I've seen him around the dorm several times. And your brother is a pain in the ass, by the way."

You laugh lightly, agreeing.

"I am Natasha Romanoff." She introduces herself next, balancing her books in one hand to greet you. You introduce yourself with a gentle smile. "Good luck with your books." She says before turning away.

You think it's cool that you already know someone besides your brother before you start at Hogwarts.

//-//

Buying your wand is a rather strange experience.

Mr. Ollivander has a glint in his eye as if he knows everyone's secrets, and seems to disappear and reappear in his store very easily.

Tony sat on one of the stools while he waited for you, and Jarvis went to buy something for you two to eat.

After trying almost five wands, and exploding a glass vase when he tried the last one, Mr. Ollivander sighed.

"Sorry, I don't know why it's not working." You asked feeling nervous, but he smiled.

"Don't worry, dear." He said. "Difficult customers are so much fun."

He walked back in between the shelves after that, and then reappeared with three new packages.

"I remember when Howard Stark bought his wand." He told smiling nostalgically as you opened one of the packages, a black wand in front of you. "Phoenix, Cedar, slightly flexible."

"Dad has changed wands thousands of times." Added Tony wryly, but Mr. Ollivander didn't seem to mind.

The wand you tested let out a faint spark when you tried to cast a simple conjuration spell, and the man in front of you was quick to take it from your hand the next second.

"I think I have a better idea." He announced turning around, and then climbed the ladder supported by the wall, picking up a package at the top.

"Try this one dear." He asked handing you a dark wand, the wood was shiny, a color you didn't know exactly what it was, but it was beautiful.

When you grabbed the item, you felt a tingling sensation spread throughout your hand, and the wand vibrated slightly for a few seconds, causing Ollivander to let out a noise of excitement.

"You see, I knew I would find an owner for you dear." He spoke and you realized that he was speaking with the item in your hands. Soon he turned his gaze back to you. "Take good care of this one, will you, it was quite difficult to get dark elf blood for the core."

"R-right." You said with a slight frown, not quite sure what to make of that information.

Tony laughed lightly at the interaction, he should be used to Mr. Ollivander's eccentric manner by now, since he kept breaking his wands just like your father and often returned to the store to get a new one.

After paying, you and Tony met Jarvis outside, he was carrying some sweet rolls.

//-//

July ended too quickly for your happiness. You were very eager to go to school.

You spent most of August at home, playing quidditch with Tony in the backyard, curiously reading the magic books you bought, and trying to peek into the basement where your father worked, but he always caught you looking and smiled, asking you to go back to your room.

You would like your father to take you to the station, but he said he had a magic conference in September, and would be traveling for the next few weeks. Tony was upset, but he put his arm around your shoulders and asked you to hurry to get your bags.

When you finally got to the station, you were slightly nervous about going through a wall, but Tony laughed, and showed you how to go first.

You hugged Jarvis good-bye before following your brother along the way.

Tony dragged you across the train cars to the first empty cabin he could find. He commented that it would be nice if you made your own friends, but that he would like you to sit with him.

So here you were, sitting with Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, Tony's best friends since the first year. The boys smiled encouragingly at you. You already knew them, because Tony kept inviting them to spend holidays with him all the time.

"Hey, Y/N, how was your vacation?" Steve asked as soon as you sat down next to him. You shrugged, saying that it was nice, but that you were looking forward to attending Hogwarts.

Soon the boys started talking about what they were excited about next year, and you did your best to keep up, not knowing exactly who the people they mentioned were, or knowing the classes they talked about.

Many minutes after the train was moving, a girl opened the cabin door.

"Hey, strangers." She greeted with a smile.

"Hi Peggy." Steve said with a smile, you frowned at the slight scowl on your brother's face.

"They're calling for us in the prefects compartment, Steve." She warned and Steve nodded, getting up. He and the girl then left, and Tony crossed his arms.

"What's wrong?" You asked noticing his posture and the way Bucky had a little smile on his face.

"It's nothing." Grumbled your brother, and as he turned his face to the window, Bucky who was standing in front of you, whispered to you.

"Tony thinks Peggy likes Steve." He recounted. "So he doesn't like Peggy very much."

"Oh." You said, pretending to understand the whole plot. It didn't make much sense to you because everyone couldn't be friends, but you figured that when you were your brother's age you would understand better.

//-//

The Hogwarts Express only stopped at night.

Properly uniformed, you smiled when your brother patted you on the shoulder, telling you that he would meet you at the castle, since the first-year students had to go by boat.

Your hands were sweating a little as you walked up to the extraordinarily tall man who introduced himself as Drax.

"First-year students, please, six in each boat." He shouted to the crowd, and the students moved closer together.

You sat in one of the first little boats, five other children you didn't know surrounding you.

"I'm so excited." A blonde girl commented cheerfully, waving her hands. She smiled at everyone as she introduced herself as "Harley Quinn".

"I bet you''ll blow something up once we get there, Harley" Added a redheaded girl sitting next to you, you could tell by her tone that they were probably friends. The blonde, Harley, laughed.

"Shut up, Ivy." She said, and then Drax was back, climbing into one of the boats beside her. He checked the boats one last time, then waved his hand, and the transports began to move.

Everyone, including you, let out a chorus of excitement.

When you noticed the castle, you smiled. It was huge, and just as amazing as Tony used to tell you.

"Wow, it must be amazing to fly over all that." You quietly observed, and the girl next to you turned her head in your direction, smiling.

"Do you like flying?" She asked, and you nodded. She looked at you for a moment and then held out her hand to greet you. "I am Diana. Diana Prince."

"Hi, Diana." You said introducing yourself next. "Do you also like to fly?"

"I love it." She says. "I hope i can make it onto the team."

"I don't know if the first-years have any chance, but I'll be rooting for you." You assure, and Diana smiles.

When the boats stop in the harbor, the students are all excited to get out and see the castle, but Drax's almost intimidating posture makes everyone properly behaved.

He leads the crowd to the staircase, and then there is a lobby. There is a woman waiting for everyone, her strict posture makes you think she is someone you wouldn't want to upset.

"Welcome to Hogwarts." She announces. "I am Professor Okoye, head of Gryffindor house."

The students exchange burbles next, but the teacher's gaze shuts them up almost immediately.

"As long as you are here, your houses will be like your families." She continues. "Your triumphs will earn you points, and if you break any rules, those points will be taken away."

She says, casting a disapproving glance at one of the students in the corner, who giggled. "In a few moments we will begin the sorting hat ceremony."

The teacher then turns around, heading toward a large bronze door, and talking to someone on the other side. You hear someone laughing near you, and you turn your head to the side in curiosity.

It was a blond boy, and he seemed to be enjoying himself as he balanced one of the gold cups he picked up from the surrounding shelves. You thought he would be in trouble if he knocked it over, and this seemed to be exactly the same opinion as the girl next to him, who was looking at him disapprovingly.

"Stop being an idiot, Peter, put that back." She complained and he laughed, shrugging.

"Gamora, you're a spoilsport you know." He retorted and when he put the cup back, it spun and fell to the floor, breaking into several pieces. The boy turned pale as Teacher Okoye turned her head in his direction.

You rolled your eyes, walking over to them.

"Reparo" You said drawing your wand as you pointed at the broken object. Some children let out impressed exclamations when they saw the bowl form again, but you just put your wand away in shame. It was no big deal. Okoye caught up with the three of you next, looking reproachfully at the boy.

"I expect better behavior during the ceremony, sir..."

"Quill"

"Mister Quill." She completed and took one last look at the boy that had with his head down before turning back to the front of the crowd again, waving for the students to follow her.

"Hey, that was pretty cool." Peter commented beside you as you walked. You shrugged, focusing on the path.

//-//

The sorting hat was something exceptional.

Tony never told you how the choice was made, and you knew it was only to annoy you. He had sometimes joked that the students faced each other in a duel, and even though you told him to shut up, you had a look at his spell book before you came.

The actual ceremony was much simpler, however.

When it was your turn to climb onto the small stool, you bit your lips, hoping that everything would go smoothly. Just as the old cloth of the hat fell over your eyes, blocking your view of the rest of the hall, you heard a voice in your head.

" Hello, dear, no need to be so nervous." Announced the hat gently. "You are a curious little thing, I see."

"Is that a good thing?" You thought, and the hat chuckled lightly.

"It might be." He said mysteriously. "Interesting what I see here. Very interesting."

"What are you seeing?"

"Your memories, dear."

"Oh." You thought, feeling slightly embarrassed. That seemed like an intrusion of your privacy. The hat laughed again, and you remembered that he was on your head.

"You're hard to sort out." He says, and you squeeze the stool. "Don't worry, I'm not going to send you home, that's not how it works."

"Oh, right."

Hat was silent a few moments.

"I see courage in your heart." He says and you try to remember the characteristics of the houses. "But that courage is well forged with your loyalty."

You swallow dryly, feeling your anxiety rising. This was definitely taking much longer than the people who went before you.

"You are as smart as your father and brother, both members of the Slytherin house." He says. "There's a willingness not to let them down."

"That's personal." You grumble feeling your cheeks flush, but the hat doesn't care to apologize for bringing up your insecurities.

"Ah, this is interesting here. A pure kindness, yet pruned in your origins of shallow paternal affection”.

You frown, not understanding what he is saying.

"You are quite adaptable child, it has always been one of your best virtues." The hat remarks, and you get the impression that the next part is only said for you. "Tell me, where would you like to stay?"

"Isn't that your job?" You retort in thought, and hear him laugh again. You rush to correct yourself, not wanting to be rude. "Sorry, hat. I don't really know. I'd like to stay where I fit in best."

"You would do well anywhere." He retorts, and you frown. "And that's pretty impressive, you know. I haven't met another hatstall since the last century."

You swallow dryly, not knowing if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"I'll work hard, sir." You tell him. "I don't want people to think I'm a special witch just because of my family. That's something I'm sure, I don't know if it helps you choose."

Hat lets out a sigh of relief.

"Actually, that's exactly what I needed."

It takes a moment for him to speak again, and when he does, you feel your whole body shake.

"Hufflepuff"

//-//

Steve Rogers is the head boy of Hufflepuff and he celebrates excitedly when you sit down at the table next to him.

"That's so cool" He comments. "I'll be able to tease Tony all year about it."

After that, director Agatha Harkness, made the announcement of the beginning of the year. If her goal was to scare the students, she succeeded when she talked about the deadly dangers surrounding the forbidden forest and the punishments for the disobedient. Professor Strange interrupted her speech as he cleared his throat, awkwardly waving for Agatha to stop saying such things, and the woman giggled.

Dinner is delicious, and then you are following the crowd of students into the communal rooms.

"Butterbeer" Steve said to the portrait on the wall, and you blinked in surprise when the painting moved to the side, a door behind.

You sighed when you realized how cozy the Hufflepuff's common room was.

"Everyone please come in." Asked Steve in the center of the room, waving to the students who stayed behind. When everyone was around him, he smiled. "The dorms are divided by gender, but you can sleep wherever you feel most comfortable. I will only suggest that none of you try to sleep with the seventh graders, because they are scary." Steve joked making the crowd laugh lightly. "We have a supply of food in those lockers, just in case you feel like having a snack in the early morning, outside of the permitted hours for walking around the castle." He continues and stands thoughtfully for a few moments. "Most of the things you need to know are on the bulletin board on that wall, and you can also ask me anything you want. Your belongings have already been taken to the free beds, but if you want any help, you can organize among yourselves or just come talk to me."

Steve smiled as the crowd moved. You headed in the direction where he said the rooms were.

//-//

You let out a surprised exclamation as something landed on your head.

"Damn, sorry!" Asked an asian girl approaching you, and pulling the small being out of your hair as you entered the room. "Groot, I told you to behave yourself."

"I am groot." Grumbled the little creature. You looked at it wide-eyed, impressed.

"Wow, is that a tree?"

The girl laughed, putting the small creature sitting on her shoulder, sitting on the bed next to the one you identified as having your things.

"Yes and no." She said. "I found Groot in my garden over the vacations, and well, I don't know what he is exactly. But I think he was trying to make my mother's plants grow."

"He's really cute." You commented approaching with your finger extended. Groot smiled, accepting your touch.

"I am Mantis." Says the girl next and you smile at her as you introduce yourself. "We're going to be roommates."

"Yes, and so is Groot." You add as you take off your cape to throw on the bed that would be yours.

After eating so well at dinner, it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep.

You dream of glowing green eyes and a red light, but you don't recognize them or understand what it means, and when you wake up, you no longer remember.

//-//

Two weeks since you started at Hogwarts, you are used to how eccentric everything can be.

The classes weren't as difficult as you imagined, but that's probably because you've had contact with magic all your life and always had an easy time learning things. All the teachers were unique in their own way.

Professor Rocket, for example, taught Transfiguration and spent almost the entire period transfigured into a raccoon, even outside of class hours. He was temperamental and got irritated very easily when students talked too much in his class, so it was not recommended to do so.

There was also Professor Fury, who had an eye patch as a mandatory piece in his daily costume, and all the students spent more time trying to guess how this happened, than listening to his explanations of defense spells against the dark art.

Your astronomy class on Wednesdays was taught by Professor Odin, who like to claim that he was a descendant of the Olympian gods, but no one believed him. He was also the father of two of your classmates, Thor and Loki Odinson, who were the exact opposite of each other. While Thor was warm and friendly, Loki was cold and reclusive, plus the former was from Gryffindor and the other from Slytherin. Surprisingly, you liked them both.

You ended up meeting the head of your house only on the second day.

Professor Heimdall taught Divination, so you wouldn't have any classes with him until the third year.You bumped into him when you were late for fifth period and had to run to the common room for your Potions books, and almost fell on the floor when you turned the corner without looking and the professor was there. He prevented you from falling with a wave of his wand, smiling gently.

" Forgive me." You said clumsily, feeling slightly intimidated by the yellow irises as the magic set you on your feet properly, as well as catching your books in the air and placing them in your hands again.

"Be careful with the castle corridors, Miss Stark." Said the man, and for some reason, you thought he wasn't just talking about this little incident.

"Professor Heimdall, let's talk in a private place, please." Asked Professor Okoye, who was standing at his side, she looked at you with a certain disapproval, and you couldn't tell whether it was because of your intrusion, or the fact that your tie was hanging loosely around your neck, in addition to the open buttons on your shirt.

After this little incident, you asked Steve who Professor Heimdall was, and he explained that he was the head of Hufflepuff, and might seem intimidating at first glance, but that he was very kind.

But so far, the professor who has intrigued you the most was Professor Erik Lehnsherr, who taught Potions. He didn't say anything that wasn't related to the subject, didn't make any comments about behavior or events at school. And he had such a stern and mysterious look in his eyes that no student had the courage to ask him anything. You heard Peter Quill make a bet with Thor Odinson that Professor Erik was unable to smile because of some particular sorcery, but you thought it best not to laugh, especially since Mr. Lehnsherr was looking at your direction.

When you had your first Potions period with Slytherin, after herbology professor T'Challa needed to reschedule classes for an appointment, you were surprised to discover that professor Lehnsherr had children.

Gamora ended up on the same bench as you, and she was talking to her sister, Nebula, about an incident that occurred in their dormitory.

"Clearly, the professors' children have an easy time getting away with punishment." Nebula bitterly remarked, and you frowned in confusion.

"I don't think it was the girl's fault." Gamora retorted as she put the ingredients into her cauldron. She looked at you quickly, realizing that you were listening to the conversation, but she didn't scold you, she just kept stirring the mixture.

"What happened?" you asked next, and Nebula looked at you with mild irritation. She seemed about to tell you to mind your own business, but Gamora smiled, moving closer to whisper to you.

"A girl lost her temper in the Slytherin dorm bathrooms last night." She told. "She's a second year, her name is Wanda Maximoff. She and her brother are Professor Lehnsherr's kids, and everyone is saying that she didn't go to detention because of it."

Your jaw dropped, impressed.

"I can't believe Magneto has children." You said making Gamora and Nebula laugh at the nickname. Last week you found out that the school had been calling Erik that since he stopped the hall chandelier from falling on the teachers' desk two years ago when he used non-verbal magic to attract the metal, and everyone started calling him that behind his back. Tony told you and you liked the story.

"I know right, he seems so self-contained." Gamora remarked looking back briefly. Professor Erik was focused on his own potions book.

"That noisy kid from Gryffindor said he's married." Nebula added next and Gamora laughed lightly.

"Peter Quill?"

"Yes."

"Wow, that's surprising." Says the girl. You both return to stirring your cauldrons in silence after that little conversation.

When you have finished your mixing, Professor Erik gives Hufflepuff five points for your good work, and you smile with red cheeks.

"You're nice." Nebula suddenly said beside you as you were leaving the room. Gamora stood next to her. "Do you want to walk around with us?"

"We're already walking." You joked and Gamora laughed unlike her sister who grimaced.

"Yep, definitely cool." She added. "Do you want to have lunch with us?"

"At your table or mine?"

Gamora and Nebula exchanged glances.

"I'm not sitting with Hufflepuff." Nebula declared and you sighed, rolling your eyes.

"You know I'm from Hufflepuff, right?"

"I'm reconsidering the invitation." She retorted and you frowned, but Gamora smiled at you.

"Will you sit with us, please?"

You sighed, nodding in agreement. You could talk to Tony after all.

//-//

Lunch at the Slytherin table became an everyday thing after that day. It took two weeks for Mantis to start joining you, and then you realized that you had a small group of friends now.

At Christmas, neither you nor Tony came home, because your father was working and you didn't want to be alone in the Stark mansion. You ended up turning down Tony's invitation to spend Christmas with Steve Rogers and his family, because you weren't really friends with Steve. Tony insisted, not wanting you to be alone, but you assured him that you would be fine in the company of your friends, and that he needn't worry.

On Christmas morning, Groot woke you up by jumping on your face. You laughed lightly because he was so small that he was like a tickle, and stood up as you returned the little creature to Mantis' bedside table.

A few hours later, as you were opening your presents at the Slytherin table along with Gamora, Nebula, Mantis, and Peter Quill, who had also stayed at Hogwarts for the end of the year, you let out an excited exclamation.

"I can' believe it." You spoke, opening the package in front of you. It was a large box, it was bewitched and only revealed the actual wrapping once you tore the paper off. It was actually a broom.

"Wow, that's cool." Peter remarked as he looked at your present.

That's how you ended up in the middle of the snow, testing your new broom while your friends cheered and celebrated below you.

"Are you sure you can fly?" You asked Peter as soon as he asked you if he could ride. He shrugged, smiling.

You and the girls watched as he controlled the broom for a few feet above the ground, and then he overspeeded it and sped away.

You all ran into his direction, while the broom seemed almost annoyed at his lack of control, and knocked him into a tree. Peter fell between the branches, onto someone who was resting under it.

When you all reached him, you frowned when there was a boy pushing Quill.

"Watch it, dude!" Warned the boy, but before you could say anything, Gamora was already stepping forward, wand in hand.

"It was just an accident." She said and the boy looked at her surprised with her wand outstretched. He crossed his arms however, not looking scared.

"Oh, you're going to spell me now, are you?" He teased.

"Piss off, Maximoff." Warned Nebula next, taking a step beside her sister. So this was Pietro Maximoff. You figured that confidence should come from being the son of one of the professors.

"I suggest you leave my brother alone." Warned a voice behind you. You turned next, only to catch sight of a girl with brown hair, green eyes that glittered with anger.

Gamora clenched her jaw, and Nebula drew her own wand toward the girl, who also had her wand in her hands.

You sighed, raising your hands as you stood in the line of fire.

"Would everyone please calm down?" You asked. "It was just a misunderstanding, and the broom is mine anyway, no need to fight about it."

It takes a moment, but Gamora puts down her wand, and everyone follows her after that. She has an insinuating smile on her face.

"You really are a Hufflepuff, aren't you Stark?" She teases, and you laugh sheepishly, putting your hands in your pockets. "Come on Quill."

Gamora warns and the boy shoots Pietro an ugly look as he leaves. You accept your broom that he hands to you, and turn around, your gaze meeting that of the girl who is supposed to be Wanda Maximoff for a moment. You feel your face heat up at the intensity of the angry look, and you look away, following your friends.

//-//

The months went by quickly as the rest of the school year passed. You managed to do very well on the exams, and didn't get involved in any near-fights again.

When the year ended and the Hufflepuff didn't win the House Cup, you thought you should have been more upset, but you didn't mind having Gamora and Nebula celebrating beside you, laughing and hugging you excitedly.

You also didn't understand why you felt your stomach turn when you caught Wanda Maximoff smiling amidst the Slytherin celebration when you looked around.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #wandaxreader #wandaxyou #wandaxyn #wanda maximoff x yn #The Scarlet Witch Prophecy #marvel imagines #harry potter au #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x fem!reader

516 notes · View notes

sabraeal · 3 years ago

Note

Consider: Obi is green-red color blind

A Color by Any Other Name

Written for @aeroplaneblues for a surprise birthday gift! Many months ago she mentioned wanted to see a colorblind Obi, and I said, WELL WHAT A GOOD EXCUSE TO WRITE THIS PROMPT JOANNA GAVE ME. I hope your birthday is a good one, filled with a lot more nice surprises!

“Are you ever going to introduce me to your guard friends?” Suzu asks around a mouthful of dumpling. “Or are you embarrassed?”

To say Obi is unprepared, would be an understatement; there’s a pork bun lodged between his teeth, his gloves not only coated in pig grease but also far less effective against steam than he’d thought they’d be back when he’d just grabbed a plump little blob off the stall. He’d laughed off Suzu’s concerns about protective equipment; after all, if smiths use leather gloves, they’ve got to be just as good as an oven mitt.

They aren’t. Not to mention the roof of his mouth starting to have a real good think about peeling off and having a vacation. Maybe even with someone who doesn’t eat entire dumplings straight from the basket.

“Wha?” he manages eloquently, nearly drooling spicy meat drippings onto the street.

“I know I’m not cool like they are,” Suzu continues, warming to his new thesis. If his sudden flush of confidence is any measure, he’s spent more of time composing his arguments for this than Obi’s ever seen him work on his actual defense. “And I’m no good with a sword. Or fists. Or really any implement that isn’t a scalpel, and any opponent that isn’t already anesthetized. But I am very smart.”

There’s a thoughtful pause before Suzu adds, “Some people do enjoy that, you know.”

What Obi knows is that this kid tried this conversation on for size in front of Yuzuri, and she didn’t even bother to warn him as a courtesy. See if he buys her any more meat-on-sticks when she’s ‘left her purse in the lab’ now.

“That’s not--” he takes a hurried minute to swallow-- “not what’s happening. I didn’t...”

Even know you knew I didn’t work for the pharmacy. His teeth clamp shut around that winner, and its friend, I didn’t think you lot would want to hang out with a bunch of men without degrees. Not only would that encourage Suzu to make a scene right here, right now, but if it got back to Jirou-- well, if he thought Suzu could turn any day into a disaster, the lieutenant would make that seem like a vacation.

“I didn’t think you wanted to,” he settles on instead. Similar enough in feel, if...creatively edited. “You scholar types tend to flock together.”

“Well, sure,” Suzu murmurs, stymied, “but we’re friends too, aren’t we? If all my friends are your friends, then all your friends should be my friends.”

Only an academic could talk about arithmetic with that amount of confidence, especially the kind that involved transitive properties and letters, and all sorts of things that made Obi’s head spin.

“Well,” he hums, one boot scratching his calf. “You would know.”

Suzu whirls on him, staring down his long fox-snout of a nose. “You mean it? You’ll really...?”

“Sure. If that’s what you want.” He twitches his shoulders, more casual than he feels. “It’s fine if it’s you.”

There’s always been a lazy lilt to Suzu’s eyes, but it disappears now, all the sleepiness gone to surprise. “Me? You wouldn’t want to bring anyone else?”

“Well, definitely not Kazaha.” The glares he’d get bringing that twiggy pedant into the guardhouse might be enough to drop him dead on the spot. “And Yuzuri would be too popular.”

Suzu grimaces. “The number of admirers she’d get from a wink alone...she’d be unlivable.”

He can see it now, her ponytail bobbing with a buoyant glee, giggling through every painstaking penned line from her fan club-- “Think of all the bad poetry.”

“Honestly, that might make it worth it. At least I’ll feel better about not knowing the difference between a quartet and a quatrain.” Suzu takes a thoughtful bite of him bun. “And you couldn’t bring Shirayuki, of course.”

“Right.” Not a one of them could be trusted to keep their lips sealed; she’d hardly have to take a breath and someone would call her Obi’s lady, or ask how they met, or whether she’s still Mistress behind closed doors--

But Suzu wouldn’t know any of that. “Wait, why?”

“Well...” He has the grace to look chagrined about it, whatever it is. “You know. Her hair...?”

“Oh.” Obi shrugs. “Sure, I guess.”

“You guess?” Suzu stares. “Shirayuki has a non-zero amount of stories about being kidnapped for looking like a candied apple, and you guess there might be a fuss about bringing her ‘round to the guardhouse?”

“Well, none of you acted weird about it,” he snips, hiding his annoyance behind a bite of dumpling. “There’s no reason they will.”

“Of course no one at Lilias acted weird, Obi!” he squawks, arms flailing as he talks. “You couldn’t pay them to look at anything but their own project. But when a bunch of normal men with eyes and, uh, other working appendages see a cute girl with red hair and a soft voice, they’re gonna go crazy!”

His palm hooks around his shoulder, thumb digging into the hard knot at his collarbone. “Aw, come on. It’s not that special.”

“Not that--?” Suzu whips around, eyes round as dumplings. “Obi, she’s the only person I’ve ever seen with red hair.”

“You don’t get out much,” Obi deadpans. “No offense.”

“That’s not--” Suzu grunts, throwing up his hands-- “She’s the only person anyone’s ever seen with red hair!”

“Her dad’s is kind of red.” That observation wins him an unimpressed look, one that says you’re missing the point. “And Yuzuri had blue hair when I met her. That’s way more interesting--”

“It was dyed!” Suzu wobbles over to a wall, sitting with his head in his hands. “Shirayuki has a hair color so rare that the birth records in Clarines haven’t noted it in more than fifty years! And you think Yuzuri dying her hair with woad is more impressive.”

“Well, even her natural color is brighter than Miss’s. Not--” he waves a hand between them, quelling-- “that Miss’s hair isn’t nice enough. But I’d think that people would pay more attention to that.”

“...Brighter?” Suzu murmurs after a long moment, stilted. “Obi, could you tell me what color that sign is, right over there?”

“The one for the tea shop?” He wrinkles his nose. “Why--?”

“Just...indulge me for a moment.”

“All right.” He squints up at the moon cresting over a wolf’s head. “Blue.”

“Right, and, um, that coat over there.”

“Yellow.”

“Right.” Suzu’s voice is tight, stressed. “And what I’m wearing?”

Obi squints. This one’s a little harder, but he’s confident when he says, “Green.”

“Ah, right.” Suzu stands, a unsteady on his feet. “That would explain that, then.”

Obi blinks. “Explain what?”

“Obi,” Suzu begins, with all the gravitas of both a grim prognosis and a terrible joke. “You can’t see colors.”

It’s not the first time Obi’s played hound to his prey’s fox, but there’s something distinctly unsettling about it being Suzu that leaves him lagging behind, unsure of himself. Especially with the way he scurries through the concourse, bounding toward the mess hall with this idea caught between his teeth like chicken feathers.

“I can see colors just fine,” Obi informs him with far less confidence than he’d like. “Some of them are just hard to tell apart. Weren’t you and Yuzuri arguing yesterday about whether salmon is orange or pink?”

Suzu waves a hand at him, dismissive. “That’s different. Salmon’s both orange and pink, and what color it looks most like has to do with the composition of your eye-- and it’s pink by the way, with orange undertones--”

Between the two of them, Obi knows who he’d trust to know their colors. “Uh-huh.”

“You can’t make out red and green, which is different entirely, and--” the doors to the mess burst open beneath his hands, a noise lost in the din of a hundred scholars trying to share the same table-- “YOU GUYS WON’T BELIEVE WHAT I JUST FOUND.”

The whole of Shidan’s lab-- minus the man himself-- have taken up right by the door, bags and coats piled to save them their places on the bench. Suzu makes short work of the pile on his seat, haphazardly shoving them to the floor as he sits.

Kazaha peers at him and ventures mildly, “A new way to avoid finishing your thesis?”

“No,” Suzu hums between his grit teeth, “but I have found out--”

“I don’t think we need to do this,” Obi murmurs, handing Miss her muffler. “It’s not--”

“Obi,” he intones with far more gravitas than his name has ever strictly deserved, “can’t see colors.”

“Not at all?” Kazaha turns those sharp eyes to him, like he’s a specimen under glass. “Just black and white?”

“I can see just fine,” Obi huffs, tossing Yuzuri her coat before he slides onto the bench, knee knocking into Miss’s in a way that puts his heart through its paces. “Suzu is just making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“Is that so?” he hums with a grin. “Then what color is Shirayuki’s hair?”

He stifles a sigh. It’s best to put all this to bed now, before he’s stuck playing what’s this color for the next two years. “Red.”

“What’s the point of this?” Yuzuri yawns, already bored. Obi shoots her a grateful look, glad that at least one of them isn’t going to play Suzu’s game.

It’s too bad he’s already puffed up with unearned confidence, like an evolutionist at a botany lecture. “And what’s the color of Ryuu’s cloak?”

He knows it by heart-- how could he not, when the two most important people in this city wear matching ones-- but still Obi glances up, anticipating a trick. Ryuu stares back, confused and guileless. “Blue.”

“Great, good.” Suzu’s grin stretches from ear to ear. “Now what color is your scarf?”

Obi’s fingers knot in the fabric, the weft tickling the pads of his fingers. “Well, it’s...sort of reddish, isn’t it?”

This is the wrong answer.

“It makes so much sense,” Yuzuri murmurs in wonder. “You really don’t know how ugly Suzu’s outfits are. That’s why you still hang out with him.”

“Hey!” Suzu pouts. “That’s not very nice.”

“No, that has nothing to do with color, it’s the cut.” Anxiety spikes through him. “But wait, it is red isn’t it? My scarf?”

“No,” Miss murmurs at his side, cheeks flushes. “Obi, it’s...it’s green.”

He stares down at it, trying to imagine what that might look like. “Green.”

“It looks very nice on you!” Her small fingers wrapping in the fur at his elbow. “It’s your color, really.”

“Oh, sure,” he murmurs, faint. “I guess it matches my eyes.”

“Hey, what do you mean ‘it has nothing to do with the color?’“ Suzu’s hands fly to his hips, brows drawn tight over the long line of his nose. “My clothes are just fine.”

“They aren’t.” Obi leans in next to him, grin feeling thinner than it should. “But I hang out with you anyway, which means you know we’re really friends.”

Kazaha rubs at his chin, where his ode to Shidan’s goatee is failing to thrive. “You know what this also explains?”

Obi blinks. “What?”

“All the black.”

It’s not Kazaha that says it, oh no. That would be too merciful for a mortifying moment out of his life. Instead it’s low and feminine, and when Miss Kiki leans out from the other side of Miss, it’s like a siren emerging from the depths, teeth bared to tear a man to shreds. “What an interesting thing I’ve learned today.”

“Miss Kiki! How--?” He gulps. “Why--?”

“I came to deliver a message from Wirant,” she drawls, too pleased. “And it seems I’ve earned myself a fine tip.”

“No,” he breathes. “You can’t-- you’re not going to tell Master, are you? Or Sir?”

“Oh,” she hums, looking particularly hungry for manflesh. “I certainly will.”

“Oh, there there.” Miss pats his back, the sensation lost among the dozen layers of clothing between them. “I’m sure Kiki won’t tell them, not until you’re ready! You asked her not to.”

“I think that just means,” Obi mutters, voice muffled by his arms and the wall he’s throwing himself over, “that she’ll just enjoy telling them more.”

“Ah...” He doesn’t need to see her to know her grimace. “Yes, that’s...probably right.”

He lets out a heavy, dramatic sigh. It helps a little. So does a bit of flailing.

“They won’t make a big deal out of it,” Miss says, changing tack. “It hardly changes anything! I’m sure they’ll just forget as soon as she tells them.”

He peeps one eye over his elbow. “That’s easy for you to say, you haven’t spent the last half an hour playing What’s That Color.”

“Well,” she wheedles, “they are scholars.”

Obi groans, loud and long, which doesn’t help; but it echoes out over the rooftops, returning back to him, which does.

“How...?”

Miss hesitates, a gloved finger pressed to her lips. He sighs, already braced for the onslaught-- how didn’t you know? how did you go so long without knowing your colors? how do you find people if you can’t even tell what hair color they have--?

“How did you notice?”

Obi lifts his head, unblinking. “What?”

“How did you notice?” Miss repeats, more firmly this time. “You’ve spent your whole life this way, haven’t you? It must have taken something really special to realize there was more than what you see.”

“Uh.” It’s nice that it’s darker here, that it’s cold. He has perfect legitimate reasons to be flushed. “Well, it was Suzu really. He mentioned that--” his teeth clamp down around his words, not letting them out without a hasty edit-- “that people think your hair’s pretty special, and I said I didn’t get why...”

Miss stiffens beside him, a statue that breathes, and he hastily adds, “Not that you aren’t special, Miss. It’s just, the red...”

“Right.” The words comes out stilted, strange. “You can’t see it. You actually...haven’t ever seen it.”

A silence settles on them like a wool blanket; not one of those nice ones at the castle, or the fleecy ones Miss stockpiles like one day the North might run out of sheep, but the itchy, coarse-woven ones of his childhood. Uncomfortable and smelling faintly of animal.

“So,” he coughs, fixing his gaze out over the city. “What did Kiki want?”

“Oh...” Miss shifts, mouth pulling into a guilty grimace. “She came to tell me that the Queen Dowager has invited me to dinner. Tomorrow night.”

His brows raise. “Well, well.”

“Don’t,” she murmurs, head giving the barest shake. “It’s not like that.”

“Are you sure?” He shouldn’t press, but if he doesn’t, no one else will. “After you told Master--”

“I told him a list of reasons why I thought I would be a better ally as a friend, and not as a...” Miss loses steam, letting her words sigh into the air. “I’d like to believe this has to do with my work with Phostyrias.”

He watches her, careful. “But do you?”

“I don’t know,” she says, which is as good as any no.

Obi’s barely stepped into the Protector’s solar when Master asks, “What color is my jacket?”

His head swivels, delivering a glare so flat carpets would be jealous. Miss Kiki only hums, shoulder lifting in a disinterested shrug. “I said I was going to tell them.”

Fair enough.

“It’s blue,” he deadpans, flopping onto the cushiest divan. He’s too long for it, his boots spilling off one arm a idling over the floor. “Apparently I can see that one just fine.”

According to Miss, at least; she’d unearthed a slip of a book from the university’s library, outlining the limits of his sight. Little Ryuu had pored over it for a day before showing up at his door, flushed faced and nervous.

Garrack always told me I had nice eyes, he’d admitted, lingering at the threshold. I was hoping you could see them.

Cross as he is about the whole thing, Obi can’t regret that. He might not have Miss’s hair, or Suzu’s coat-- thankfully-- but Ryuu’s eyes would always look true to him.

“But not red.” Master’s mouth twitches, far too entertained. “Or green.”

“I do see them,” he protests. “They just...don’t look very different to me.”

Just another shade of yellow and brown, if those books are right. Which they are, since he’d always thought so. Subtly different, like the way Suzu and Yuzuri fought over salmon, or Master and Miss Kiki would dither over chartreuse. Just enough that he’d been able to eke by on keeping his mouth shut and a fondness for black.

Still, there’s nothing worse than finding out something new about yourself this late in the game. Especially when--

“What about the curtains?” Master inquires. “Can you see those?”

--Especially when it’s so endlessly entertaining to everyone else. “I can see them,” he grumbles, sinking further into the cushions. “Just because I can’t see some colors doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

“Then what about the note?”

Obi rolls his gaze to where Sir perches at his desk. “Huh?”

“To our red-haired guest.” Sir coughs, a flush working its way up his neck. “It’s just-- you wrote that.”

“Oh, His Grace told me that one.” A lifetime ago, it seemed. “‘The red-haired girl, you’ll know her when you see her, I’m sure.’“

Master winces. Obi can admit his talent doesn’t lie with impressions, especially ones of dour old men.

“Right,” Sir presses, voice oddly tight. “But you don’t see-- I mean, how could you find a girl that looks just like everyone else?”

“Ah...” He grimaces, scrubbing at the top of his head. “Well, I just looked for the girl who didn’t belong. It--” he hesitates, suddenly aware of Master’s eyes on him-- “didn’t take very long.”

Master’s frown belongs above one of those prie-dieu, to remind penitents that forgiveness isn’t absolute. “What is that supposed to--?”

“So what does she look like?” No one could say that after a decade of dedication, Miss Kiki doesn’t know how to do her job; she deflects Master’s brewing sour mood with the ease of a professional. “What does her hair look like to you?”

“Uh.” He clears his throat, tugging at his collar. “I wasn’t lying when I said I bought my scarf to match...”

There is a stillness to the room that is too much, too pitiful. Much as he hated it, Obi would much rather be a joke than a charity case.

“Huh,” Sir grunts, gaze still fixed to his neck. “Now I wonder what we all look like to you.”

“Well, I sort of wonder what you all look like to yourselves.” Obi let a sigh float wistfully through his lips. “At least I know that me and Miss still have the same eyes.”

There’s silence again, but this one buzzes, filled with words no one dares to say.

“What?” he laughs, nervous, pulling himself upright. “Don’t we?”

Sir grimaces. “Ah, Obi...”

Miss is quiet when they walk the walls home that night, the winter stillness making the silence and heavy as any drift. Her mouth is pursed, not with anything like anger, but something closer to consideration. As if there’s words back there she’s sorting through, trying to compose a thought that just won’t come.

Well, she should know: she won’t get anywhere if she doesn’t air a few of them out to look at. “Something wrong, Miss?”

She blinks, shaken out from wherever she gone away. Her mind palace, maybe. Suzu’d told him about those once, with busts and painting and curtained alcoves. What she’d do with a place like that, he couldn’t imagine, but if anyone asked, he’d put his money on hers having apothecary drawers instead, and gardens too. The kind with half crumbled walls, ivies curled around every stone. Cluttered desks piled high with books, and one of them with curtain drawn to let its owner nap the afternoon away.

“Oh,” she breathes, finally. “No, no. Nothing’s, um, wrong. I was just...thinking.”

He lifts a knowing brow. “So something is wrong.”

“That’s not what I said,” she informs him, primly. “I was going over my meeting with Haruto, and...”

Her lips snap shut around the words, distress narrowing her eyes. “And...?”

“She didn’t know about my work,” Miss huffs, arms wrapping tight around her chest. “Or, she did, but only what Zen had told her. Which...”

Was far less than the whole of it. He’d heard that part of her argument that night, try as he might not to. “So she invited you as Zen’s ally?”

“No.” The word is colder than any he’s ever heard fall from her lips. “That I wouldn’t mind-- I’m still trying to be his ally, after all, and if she saw me as an asset...” She shook her head. “No, she wanted to meet his...paramour, even if she didn’t say as much.”

Obi grimaces.

“And even that wouldn’t be so bad if...” Miss took a deep, steeling breath. “When I came in, after all the curtsies and pleasantries, she said, your hair is just as red as he said it was.” Her knuckles are white where they wrap around her elbows. “All those years, all those letters, and the only thing he thinks to tell his mother is that my hair...”

The rest is lost in a sigh, a cloud of mist swirling off the wall.

“It must really be something,” Obi deadpans, gaze following it off the edge. “Since it makes all these people forget how smart you are.”

She’s watching him; he can feel it as she sidles up to where he stands, hands unclenching from her arms and splaying on the crenellations instead. “Obi, you really can’t...?”

Miss hesitates, falls silent. He lets her; she’s put enough words in the air to sort through, and now all she needs is time. Obi’s happy to give it to her.

Especially since there’s a rabbit down there in the dark. A small one, moving slow, hind legs churning like clockwork winding up. It’s nose digs into the snow, snuffling around, searching--

“Can you really see better?” Miss asks, startling him back to the wall. “In the dark, I mean. That book said you could.”

“Well, after the past couple days, I’m a little shaky on what’s normal.” He jerks his chin over the edge. “Can you see the rabbit down there? Right by that sapling?”

She blinks, pressing in close. “The what? It’s just...dark out there.”

“Well,” he says, grin tight on his lips. “There’s your answer.”

Miss settles back on her heels, one hand already cupping her chin. “It makes sense. Without the distraction of color, your movement tracking must be much more acute...”

Obi only half-manages to stifle a laugh. “Seems like it definitely distracts everyone else.”

Miss goes quiet; almost too quiet, enough to make his teeth sit on edge. The seconds tick by, and Obi might play at patience, but it’s not in his nature. He glances down, just from the corners of his eyes, but Miss is already watching him, eyes strangely shuttered.

“Obi,” she says, so clear his name rings in his ears. “You don’t...? My hair, it’s not...” Her mouth works, quiet, before she manages, “It’s not anything to you?”

Anything special, she means. Because that’s what he said so stupidly last night, nothing special.

She’d tied it up tonight, finagling the strange looping knots that were partial to the queen’s court, but already some of it’s worn loose, slipping from its pins. “It is,” he murmurs. “I like it.”

She huffs, unimpressed. “But you can’t see it, not really.”

“Of course I can see it,” he laughs, weary. “Maybe not the color, but that’s fine. I like it because it’s yours.”

She ducks her head, and Obi might not be good at colors, but he can see her cheeks flush in the lamplight.

“Miss.” Her gaze lifts to his, no longer shuttered, just full. “Can I ask you something?”

Her breath catches. “Anything.”

“Be straight with me,” he pleads. “We do have the same eye color right?”

“Obi!” Miss‘s laughter bubbles bright with betrayal as she hops down the stairs after him. “Obi, please--”

“Let me grieve, Miss,” he grumbles, hands shoved in his pockets. “I’ve been a real champ about the rest, but let me have this.”

“Obi!” She catches him round the wrist, mouth twitching as she turns to him. “Is it really so bad that they’re gold?”

“No,” he mutters sullenly, shoulders slumped enough that with two stairs between them, they’re nearly the same height. “It’s just...”

Her eyes flutter wide with curiosity. “Just...?”

“It’s fine enough that they’re unique.” He spits the word with more venom than it deserves. “I just I wanted this one thing in common.”

“In common?” Miss blinks. “You mean, me and...?”

Obi would lay down his life for his mistress, but even she can’t ask him to do this, to lay down his pride for her to walk on.

“Oh!” She flusters, limbs fluttering in the air between them. He’s half-tempted to turn away again, but she grabs his face and holds him steady, her cold, slender fingers caught behind his jaw. “Just-- just one moment...”

“Miss?” he wheezes. This is entirely too close, too much--

“Yes!” He breath flutters over his lips, her own parting in a celebration of teeth. “That’s it. I see it. There’s a little, right there.”

He blinks. “A little what, Miss?”

Her teeth flash around the word, “Green.”

It’s cruel to throw a starving dog a bone, but he snaps it up anyway, heart nearly clogging up his throat with hope. “D’you mean it? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Really,” she promises, her nod serious and officious as any she might give Little Ryuu. “There’s a thread, right around the middle. Green. Just like mine.”

“Oh.” His own hands raise, leather muting the feel of her skin, but-- Master always told him about the red thread that bound him and Miss together, that drew them toward their fated meeting, but this-- Obi will take this too. “Thank you, Miss.”

She smiles, eyes shining bright in the lamplight. “No, Obi, it’s my pleasure.”

Not much different between green and red to him, anyway.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #ans #this request has been sitting in my box since 2017 #when i FIRST started joking about this au #and i always meant to get around to it #but obviously my last few years have been filled with some things that have perhaps kept me #from being able to do all the things I meant to 🤣#but once Anne brought this up again #I knew i had a very good excuse to finally get this thing out in the world #AND HERE IT IS #it takes place some amount of time after the current arc

88 notes · View notes

nessinborderland · 4 years ago

Text

Innocence

Pairing: Chota x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: There’s just something about an innocent and kind person that this world still hasn't able to ruin. It’s like there’s this aura around them. The kind of aura that someone like you needs to surround themselves with.

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mildly Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Overstimulation, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Loss of Virginity, Dom/sub, Innocence Kink, dark!Reader, Light Angst

Notes: Anonymous asked: Chota x reader? 👉👈 (gonna pretend they didn’t die) then they saw the beach and the reader who is an executive on the beach got interested in him?

Okay so, this was a trip. Please be careful of the warnings, do not read if any of it upsets you. It’s not that bad tho, but still. Hope you enjoy! <3

You observe the newly arrived residents of the Beach with curious eyes.

They’re an odd group of friends, these ones. There are five of them, and they all look so different that you wonder how they even came to be. They’re obviously close if the few dynamics you’ve noticed between them are anything to go by, but still, a pretty intriguing group made of intriguing individuals.

You’re not even listening to Hatter as he gives his usual speech; you’re much more interested in them. Or him, to be exact.

He’s shy, cute, and scared, like a stray kitten. You noticed that as soon as they were brought into the room and the bags over their heads were off, exposing his wide-eyed expression. He was the only one that couldn’t look anyone in the eye, preferring to look down, almost trembling in his chair. His leg was also hurt, you noticed as he limped to his seat.

Very different from his friends.

One of them had gotten in kicking and screaming obscenities; when his bag was off he was more than ready to stare everyone down with fire in his eyes, handsome face contorted into a snarl like he was preparing himself to attack at the smallest of threats. He had caught your attention for a moment until you quickly realized that men like him could be more trouble than fun; there’s no enjoyment in fucking a man that won’t let you dominate him.

Then there’s the couple. They have to be a couple; if they’re not one already, they’re definitely close to becoming one. They had walked in a way more calmly manner than their volatile blonde friend and, even though they were obviously scared, they were still calm and willing to listen to Hatter’s words.

Then there’s this other woman. Shibuki, you had heard your object of interest call in a frightened tone. She’s beautiful, you had thought immediately upon seeing her face. The second thing that went through your mind was if she and the awkward man had anything going on between them. Not that there was anything specific in the way she interacted with him, but more on how he checked on her through the corner of his eye.

Speaking of him, he’s... interesting. Not in a way that most people would find him interesting, though. For everyone else, you’re sure that he just looks like a pathetic and scared little man. For you, however… you see way more in him. You see innocence, you see shyness, you see goodness.

All rare traits that you happen to find extremely attractive and, more importantly, exactly what you want in a pet.

Men in the Beach are the exact opposite of everything you see in him. They’re rude, prone to violence, and just so… infuriating to be around. All they want is to fuck, kill, and party, and – even though you appreciate all those things from time to time – there’s just something about an innocent and kind person that this world still hasn't able to ruin. It’s like there’s this aura around them.

The kind of aura that someone like you needs to surround themselves with.

A movement to your right makes you glance at Last Boss, leaning against the wall not far from you. Your eyes lock for a split of a second before his gaze moves somewhere else. You smirk to yourself, enjoying the man’s clear infatuation with you as he blushes under his tattoos. You remember how prettily he had whined as you fucked him, loud moans and tears streaming down his face as you made him come time and time again. He was the closest thing to an innocent and shy man you could find at the Beach.

Not anymore though. You have a new target in mind.

Your attention goes back to the group as Hatter asks for their names. Everyone looks much more calm and relaxed now, even though he is still looking down in apprehension, and the blonde one still looks at everyone like he’s just waiting to be attacked.

“Hm, Chota…” you whisper his name right after he says it aloud, trying it on your tongue. It suits him, you decide.

Your attention goes back to focusing only on him, and you attentively watch him as he starts getting more confident to slowly look around the room – that or he’s just feeling observed. Your eyes suddenly lock, and you can almost hear him gasp as he stares at you with mouth agape and a light pink dusting his cheeks. It’s only when you smile at him that he lowers his head, ears getting red from embarrassment. You giggle to yourself at that.

“Gosh, you’re adorable,” you whisper under your breath.

You squeeze your thighs together as you start to imagine all the things you can do to and with him. Make him beg to come as you suck him dry; fuck him with your strap-on until he’s an overstimulated sobbing mess; ride him to completion as his hands are tied and he can’t do anything but moan your name. The possibilities are endless and make a fire run through your body.

Hatter saying your name pulls you back from your lewd fantasies.

��Y/N here will show you around the place. New clothes, drugs, food, sex toys, she knows where to get you all whatever you want,” he makes a dismissive gesture and turns his back to them with a last, “Enjoy the Beach, guys.”

You gesture for the group to follow you and they do, cautiously at first but then more than ready to leave the room. You lock eyes with Chota once again. He visibly gulps before getting behind the group, limping as the others help him stand, the blonde man named Karube gesturing for you to lead the way.

“So, how much of what that guy said is actually true?” he asks as he walks beside you. You raise a brow at his tone, not enjoying neither the proximity nor what he’s implying.

“The Beach is your best chance at survival in this country,” you say in a cold tone, walking a little faster to get ahead of him. The man barely has to try, however, as his long legs quickly put him beside you again, “All you have to do is follow the rules. Is that simple,” you look him up and down through the corner of your eye, “Unless you don’t know how to follow rules. In that case, I don’t see how I can be of any assistance to who I can consider a dead man walking.”

Karube huffs and shakes his head.

“My problem isn’t rules,” he says, “My problem is “utopias” that give me cult vibes.”

His words strike a nerve within you, making you close your eyes and take a deep breath before replying.

“Then you’re more than free to leave and condemn your friends to certain and miserable deaths,” you say as calmly as you can, looking him straight in the eyes. His gaze doesn’t leave yours as you stand there, waiting for the other to break eye contact first.

“Hm… Miss?” that voice makes you look back at the group, your attention focusing on the man with shaggy hair.

“Yes… Arisu, is it?”

“Yes, hmm,” he gives you a small bow and averts his eyes before focusing his attention on his friend, eyes clearly starting a conversation that you’re not part of, “What my friend Karube means is that we’re not sure if we can trust this place. We just want to be safe, you know?”

“I do understand that,” you nod, “But if you can’t respect the work that is put into this place, I really have nothing to tell you but good luck in surviving outside,” you choose to omit the part where they wouldn’t be able to leave even if they wanted to. More than once you have felt the stench of the rotten corpses of those who tried. They aren’t wrong about their worries, but it doesn’t benefit you – or them – to talk about it in any way. So you decide to change the subject, “What happened to your leg?” you ask Chota, looking him straight in the eyes. His eyes go wide as he seems to panic for a moment under your stare.

“I uh- there was this game with fire and-” he shrugs, eyes avoiding yours as he stumbles over his words, “I guess I wasn’t fast enough.”

“But you’re alive, though,” you say, “That’s good. I can get you something for your burns if you wish.” he nods with a small thanks, and you smile at him before turning back to Karube, who’s watching you with eyes full of distrust, “Now, if you would be so kind as to keep following me…”

You answer most of their questions involving the Beach, from the bracelet system Hatter imposes, to how you get food, water, and electricity. You show them the storage rooms full of clothes that they’re supposed to wear, as well as where they’re allowed to go to have fun and relax when they’re not going to games or helping around the place.

Then you try to take them to their bedrooms.

You’re not surprised when they all ask for rooms close to each other, going as far as to want to be cramped in the same room when you tell them that they’ll either have to share with strangers or be separated through the various hotel floors.

“Hmm, you’re a couple, yes?” you ask Arisu and Usagi as you check the list of rooms available on the lobby’s reception.

“Uh- uh no, no we’re not,” is the rushed answer that the young woman gives you. You look at her with a raised brow before looking at a blushing Arisu, smiling to yourself as you decide on what to do.

“Okay then, if you want I can put you two,” you point at Usagi and Shibuki, “together on the third floor,” you then point your pencil to Arisu and Karube, “And you two can share a room on the fourth.”

“What- what about me?” ah yes. You’re almost inclined to answer “you can stay with me”, but obviously choose not to. He’s going to be yours in due time anyway, you’re sure of it.

“There’s a room on the second floor that would be best for you,” you tell him, “It’s close to the infirmary and no one will bother you there.” you also don’t need to tell him that he’s going to be way easier for you to approach that way.

It takes a little more convincing, but they end up accepting their new bedrooms. You also give them the bracelets with their respective numbers and send them on their merry way.

You have something you need to plan for.

You keep your eye on Chota as the days go by. An easy task, as he barely leaves his bedroom. When he does, he’s usually in the company of Karube or Arisu, making it harder for you to approach him. In the evenings and mornings though, that’s when you can get him alone.

“Chota, it’s me, Y/N,” you call as you knock on his door. You hear a faint “come in” and get in, one hand balancing a tray full of medical supplies and a book on the other. He’s laying on his bed, reading the last book you had brought him. His burns look much better now, but he still mostly keeps to his room, except for when he has to play, “How’re you feeling today?”

“Hey,” he greets you with a smile, “I’m feeling okay. Finally got some sleep last night.”

"I'm happy for you," you sit beside him on the bed, looking at the fresh cut on his forehead – curtesy of the game from the night before, "Hm, that cut is not looking too good…" you grab some gauze and healing balm and start cleaning his wound.

"Ouch," Chota hisses at the stinging sensation, "It would be way worse than a cut if you weren't there to help me, though."

"I'm glad I was there for you," he blushes when you smile at him, and you realize this is a good time as ever to ask what you want to ask, "Do you like me, Chota?"

You notice him gulp before nodding, looking adorable as he looks up at you. You want to kiss him right there.

"I do… you're nice to me."

"I like you too, you know?" you say as you finish caring for his cut. You cradle his face, forcing him to look you straight in the eyes, "What would you do if I kissed you right now?"

"K- Kiss me?" his eyes go comically wide at your words, but he doesn't make a move to get away from you.

You consider that a win.

You press your lips against his in a chaste kiss, just enough to test his reaction. He freezes for a moment before surprising you by deepening the kiss, going as far as to put his hand on your waist. You test him even further by moving his hand up, pressing it against your breast as you moan into his mouth.

"Soft, isn't it?" you ask, "Want to see them?" you don't even wait for his answer, taking off your tank top to reveal your naked torso. He just looks at your chest like he has never seen boobs before, mouth agape as you put his hands back to your breasts, gasping when his cold hands palm your hard nipples.

He doesn't shy away from your touch, gasping against your lips as he squeezes and presses himself even more against your body. He only stops when you palm his erection over his shorts, panting as you move your lips down his jaw to his neck. He moans your name as you keep touching him over his clothes, but makes no move to push you away.

So you keep touching him, now set on getting your way with him as far as he'll let you.

His first sign of apprehension is when you take his dick out of his shorts, hard and leaking even though you've barely touched him.

"Has anyone ever used their mouth to pleasure you?" you ask as you start jerking him off in long, lazy strokes. His hips jerk against your fist as he moans, shaking his head, "Would you like me to be your first?"

"Y- Yes."

You think he's going to come as soon as you put him in his mouth, yelping in surprise as you start sucking him off. You lick and kiss all over his length, hand massaging his balls as you taste him in your tongue. He tastes salty and tangy, but is exactly what you've been wanting to do since you met him; have him moan under your touch.

One of the hands groping your breasts goes to your head, pushing you down as you swallow around him. You stop at that, popping him out of your mouth as you force him to lay down on the bed, arms over his head

"No touching," you say against his lips, "If you touch me, I'll stop. Do you want me to stop?" he shakes his head and you smile, going down his body to focus again on his dick, "Good boy."

You notice how much he struggles to keep his hands to himself, hips thrusting into your mouth as you suck him dry. He's moaning your name and coming in your mouth not long after, body shaking from overstimulation as you lick him clean.

You straddle him as you kiss him, wanting more but knowing that demanding so right now won't help you in the long run. So you teach him how to touch you, using his fingers to get yourself off.

"Yes, right there," you praise him as he looks down at his fingers getting inside your cunt, mesmerized by the sight as you play with your clit. He's sloppy and awkward about it, but his expression alone is enough to get you off. You can't wait for the moment you'll actually get to fuck his brains out.

You stand up after you're done, putting your clothes back on before sitting back on the bed.

"Was I good?" he hesitantly asks with a light pink to his cheeks, eyes cast down as he waits for your answer.

"Very good," is the only thing you say before going back to taking care of his wounded leg like nothing happened.

Your head is filled with fantasies of what more can happen between you two. You have to control yourself to not fuck him right now, doesn't matter if he's ready or not. You clench your legs together as he moans from pain when you press a little harder on his burns. You want to hear him moan like that more often, preferably with him inside you. Or you inside him.

You leave his bedroom sometime later, promising him to come back the next morning. He doesn't say anything about what happened and neither do you. You want him to go over his memories over and over again. You want him to desperately want your touch and your attention.

Gosh, you need a good fuck.

You let out a scream as you sit up straight, skin wet and hot with sweat as you try to regain your breathing. Your room is warm, the fresh night hair that gets in through your open window not enough to cool you down. The body sleeping next to you stirs and you notice the glint of his eyes in the dark room as Last Boss sits up, a hand immediately going to catch the tears that you don’t even realize you’re crying.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asks in a worried tone. You shake your head and swat his hand away; you don’t need his concern and you don’t need his touch.

“I’m fine,” you say as you stand up, a shiver going through your naked body as you make your way to the bathroom. You sigh in relief as you splash cold water on your face, ignoring Last Boss’ eyes on your back as well as the memories that keep flashing in your mind.

The face of the same man keeps appearing, obscured by shadows as he touches you and strips you off all of your clothes as well as your innocence. You didn’t mind it back then; why should you? He did to you what he had done to countless others before you. It was an honor to have him possess you; it was the closest you could be to the divine.

Thinking like that didn’t stop the nightmares though.

“I have nightmares too, you know,” Last Boss again, “If you want to talk–”

“I said that I’m fine,” you cut him off in an ice-cold tone. You think you notice him flinch in the darkness, but ignore it as you turn your attention back to the cold water flowing against your wrists, “What’re you doing here, anyway?” you ask, “I never said you could spend the night.” you were so exhausted the night before after fucking him for hours that you didn’t even notice him falling asleep beside you. You hate it when other people sleep in your bed.

“I just thought–”

“Takatora,” you say his name almost as a warning, approaching the bed with determination. His eyes go wide as you straddle him, your hand going around his throat as you lean over to whisper in his ear, “Whatever you think we have, it’s not a relationship. I fuck you and you let yourself be fucked by me. Nothing else. I come and you go back to your room. I can’t and I won’t give you the romantic relationship that you’re after, so don’t think that you can just sleep in my bed or that you know anything about me besides what I order you to do with your tongue,” you look him in the eyes, ignoring the pain you see in his gaze as you let him go.

You stand up again and walk to your balcony, taking a deep breath of the fresh night air.

“Y/N, please I–”

“You should leave,” is all you say without turning to face him.

You hear him as he gets dressed, hesitating at your door for a moment before leaving the room. You control the tears that threaten to fall again, too tired to even try to understand the cause of all this emotional breakdown you’re so close to having. You decide that you’re way beyond the ability to go back to sleep, so you put on a pair of leggings and a hoodie and leave the room.

The halls are mostly empty at this hour, everyone either asleep or still partying. You pass by some people as you make your way outside, but no one pays you any attention. You like that; those hours of the night where you feel like you’re invisible. You’re surprised when you notice that you’ve walked all the way to the back of the hotel, an empty path that gives you a view of the windows and balconies of the building, eventually ending near Aguni’s greenhouse.

Your mind goes to Chota when you remember that his room is somewhere along your path, so you almost absently start looking at the windows, trying to maybe catch a glimpse of him or a light on.

“Never took you for a peeping tom,” a man’s voice from behind you makes you jump, and you turn to face Chishiya, one of the other executives.

Your relationship has always been pretty amicable; friendly even. The kind of man that, at first sight, you swore would never get too close to only for him to prove you wrong; he ended up being quite submissive in the bedroom. It had been a fun one-time thing.

Not exactly your kind of man, but he’s someone that you’re willing to tolerate.

“Who says that I’m peeping?” you shrug as you keep looking up, considering the conversation to be over.

“Is Last Boss not enough for you anymore?” his tone makes you arch a brow and look him up and down.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I noticed how you look at that new guy,” Chishiya answers, now walking beside you, “He does seem like your type. I’m just not sure how his friends are going to react to your… ‘relationship’.”

“Oh please,” you huff out a laugh, now attention focused on him, “Like it matters what his friends think of me. Chota is not a child and I’m not forcing him to do anything he doesn’t want.”

“Oh, so you've fucked him already?"

"Close to it…" you shrug as you keep looking up. You notice a light coming from what you think is Chota's bedroom, so you turn around and away from Chishiya, already deciding on where to go and what to do, "Very close."

"Y/N," the man calls, making you turn around and look at him with a raised brow, "If you feel like having some fun…" he shrugged, "Feel free to come to my room. Got a new toy I would like you to try."

You chuckle at his words, seriously considering his offer.

"Who knows, maybe I will," you wave goodbye and go back to walking away.

He's not the one you want to fuck right now.

You're about to knock on Chota's door when you hear it. Moaning. You press your ear to the door, now sure of what you’re hearing. It's Chota, moaning your name. You don't bother to knock then, opening the door and getting in as quietly as you can. He doesn't even notice your presence in the dimly lit room, too focused on jerking himself off.

He's naked, hand fisting his dick at a fast pace as he tilts his head back, moaning freely as he pleasures himself. You feel yourself get wet at the sight, licking your lips before talking.

"Couldn't wait till morning?" you ask as you get closer. He gasps in surprise, stopping his movements as he locks his eyes on you. You just smile at him as you slowly undress, enjoying his eyes on your body as you get naked before him.

"Y- Y/N I–"

"Shh, it's okay," you whisper as you get on the bed, legs on each side of his hips as you press your cores together. You both moan at the contact, his dick sliding in between your drenched folds. You want him inside you so bad, "I really want to fuck you right now."

You position him right at your entrance, sinking on his length with a moan at the same time he thrusts up into him. You don't stop as you lose yourself in the feeling of him inside you, stretching and filling you up the longer you bounce on him.

His whines reach your ears as his hands grip your hips, you don't know if to stop you or to control you. Not that it makes a difference; he's not the one in charge right now. You keep riding him as you feel your orgasm coming closer, ignoring his moaning cries as he tells you he can't hold it anymore.

"Come for me, baby," you say against his lips as you kiss him, clenching around him, "Do it."

He comes inside you with a cry, hips jerking up into you as he rides out his orgasm, mouth agape, and eyes close as you keep fucking him at a fast pace. His moans of pleasure soon turn into whines as you show no signs of stopping, bouncing on his dick like you haven't fucked Last Boss just hours before.

"Y/N, please–" he looks so pretty like that, begging you to stop even though you can feel him still hard inside you, his hands still gripping your hips like his life depends on it.

"You feel so good inside me, Chota," you say as you force his wrists over his head, moving your hips in circles as you feel yourself getting closer to climax, "So pretty like this, letting me fuck you until your cum is sliding down my thighs."

You kiss him as you come, riding out your climax on him as you come down from your high. You lay down on top of him as you both regain your breath, sweaty bodies pressed against each other, him still inside you.

He whines when you pull him out, moaning from overstimulation as you suck him clean of your combined juices. Then you're kissing him passionately, wanting him to taste you on your tongue, wanting him to remember this moment forever.

This is definitely not the last time you fuck him, though.

"Was I good?" he asks you after some time, still panting as you kiss his neck. You look up at him with a smirk, noticing his tear-stained cheeks but satisfied smile.

It makes you want to fuck him again.

"Yes you were, baby," you say as your hand goes down his chest to touch him again. He hisses but doesn't push you away, "Such a good boy."

#alice in borderland #alice in borderland fanfic #ima wa no kuni no alice #segawa chota #chota x reader #chota fanfic #aib fanfic

188 notes · View notes

sisterspooky1013 · 3 years ago

Text

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 9

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

When she wakes, she momentarily can’t place where she is. The room is dim and there’s a soft whirring sound, a warm body tucked close against her back. Mulder’s apartment, she remembers. They’d decided to make it a double feature, collecting their clothes and switching out Mars Attacks for Twister. She must have drifted off at some point, with Mulder spooning her on the narrow couch, and the automatic rewind on the VCR kicked on when the movie ended. She pulls in a deep breath and his arm around her waist tightens momentarily.

“Stay,” he croaks from behind her, sounding as though he had also fallen asleep.

“I can’t, Mulder,” she replies, twisting her body around to face him, her nose pressed into his chest.

“Why?” he asks, brushing his palm up and down over her back.

“Because, I shouldn’t.” She knows her tone isn’t all that convincing.

“Says who?” he asks, though not indignantly.

“Says…I don’t know. Me, I guess,” she replies in a defeated tone.

He sighs, then pauses to consider his words.

“I don’t want to pressure you. But the idea of not seeing you again for a week kind of makes me want to die.” His words are soft and measured, communicating honesty, not frustration.

“That’s very dramatic,” she answers with a teasing lilt.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m pathetic.”

She worms up until she’s close enough to kiss him, pressing her lips to his cheek and then his mouth.

“You’re not pathetic,” she says tenderly, “you’re actually very sweet. I’ll make you a deal; I’m not going to stay the night,” she quirks a smile at his dramatic frown, “but we can get dinner tomorrow, and if you want to have coffee one day this week, you can come down.” She gives him a hopeful smile.

“That seems like a fair deal,” he says, kissing her forehead. “But if you get home, or wake up in the middle of the night, and realize you’ve made a horrible mistake, just call me. I’ll come right over.”

“I promise I will,” she says, then disentangles herself from his arms and collects her purse and shoes. She says goodbye to Priscilla, then bids a very long and very kiss-filled goodbye to Mulder before he finally releases his grip on her. As she waits for the elevator she hears the patter of his bare feet on the hallway floor and turns to see him skittering towards her, pulling her into one last kiss before he runs back to his apartment door, waving at her with a coy little smile.

Once she’s buckled into her car, she lets out a deep breath. She’d barely made it out of there; if Mulder had asked one more time, kissed her once more on the couch, she might have caved. Might have stayed the night, and might have done who knows what else. She can easily see the strong potential for this budding relationship to fast track to being more serious than she feels ready for, and it scares her. She’s never felt this strongly about anyone so soon after becoming involved with them. Clearly he has a strong pull on her, given that she cheated on Ethan with him, it’s just a lot, and she’s a person who likes to think clearly and make rational decisions. When she’s with Mulder, she loses the ability to think rationally.

When she’s home and tucked into bed, she does wish he were there, curled up behind her. Knowing she could call him and he’d be here in fifteen minutes is tempting, but she talks herself out of it. Not yet, not until she’s sure that this is more than just animal attraction. More than wanting to prove she didn’t destroy her relationship with Ethan over nothing.

It has to be more. And she suspects that it will be.

———

“Okay, spill it,” Missy says, and Dana looks at her with a mildly shocked expression, not even having fully taken her seat at the cafe with a mocha in hand before Missy gets down to business.

“Hello to you, too, Missy. How was your evening?” she asks her sister with a facetious tone.

“I hung around by myself and wondered what kind of action my little sister was getting that I wasn’t, so please, indulge me.”

Dana laughs and shakes her head, debating how much detail to give.

“It was nice, we just watched a couple movies, ate pizza, drank beer.”

“...and?” Missy asks expectantly.

“...and, we watched Mars Attacks and Twister,” Dana answers, knowing that this is not the information Missy is asking for.

Missy drops her head to the side with a frustrated glare. “Dana, quit being a prude, or I’ll just make up my own story and tell it to you right here in the coffee shop, I know you’d love that.”

Dana makes a face. “Okay, fine. Yes, we...fooled around. But we didn’t have sex.”

“Really, why not?” Missy questions incredulously.

“Missy, it’s not that abnormal not to sleep with someone on the second date,” Dana retorts with an annoyed tone.

“It is if they’ve already gone down on you and you’ve been obsessing over them for almost a year,” Missy shoots back.

“Well, regardless of your unsolicited opinion,” Dana replies, “emphasis on unsolicited, I’m choosing to wait a bit, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Fine, whatever floats your boat, Sis. Please elaborate on ‘fooled around’.”

Dana scoffs. “We...kissed, and some other things. Why are you asking for all this detail, Missy? I don’t recall you ever asking me to be this explicit regarding my sex life with Ethan.”

Missy rolls her eyes. “I’m willing to bet Ethan was into missionary with the lights off. This Mulder guy has serious sexual energy, he seems like the kind of man who knows what he’s doing. When’s his birthday?”

Scully frowns at the memory. “October 13th,” she answers flatly.

Missy shoots her a surprised expression, but suppresses it quickly. “Oh, wow, okay. Um, so he’s a libra. That’s a good thing, libras are very generous lovers.”

“I have seen evidence of that, however my pants stayed on last night so nothing to report in that respect,” Dana answers, taking a sip of her coffee to avoid looking at her sister.

“But his didn’t?” Missy asks with a smirk, and Dana purses her lips but doesn’t respond. It’s as good as saying yes.

“Dana Katherine Scully,” Missy teases with a knowing smile. “Some things never change.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dana asks defensively.

“Oh please, Dana, we went to the same school, you don’t think I heard the story about you and Marcus behind the gymnasium?”

Dana’s mouth hangs open in shock.

“Well, I hope he enjoyed his favor being reciprocated nine months later,” Missy continues, then adds “did you swallow?”

Her mouth drops open wider and she slaps Missy gently on the upper arm. “Melissa, don’t be gross!”

Missy is giggling and swatting her away. “You know what Dad always said, Dana, ‘a Scully sees it through to the end!’” She crosses her arms over her face in self-defense as Dana peppers her with little slaps, though they’re both laughing.

Finally, the tittering subsides and they are both back in their respective seats, catching their breath.

“So when are you seeing him again?” Missy asks, tucking her feet underneath her legs.

“Tonight, actually.” Dana answers self-consciously.

“Oh really? So soon?”

“Well he practically begged me to stay the night and said he didn’t want to wait until next weekend, so it was somewhat of a compromise,” Dana answers, the arrangement sounding like a red flag to her own ears.

“Dang, he’s got it bad,” Missy remarks with a little frown. “Is it too much? Are you doing that thing?”

“What thing?” Dana asks defensively.

“That thing where you get overwhelmed when someone is really interested in you and you sabotage it?” Missy ventures.

Dana furrows her eyebrows. “I don’t do that,” she says, but her tone suggests that she may not believe herself. “I just don’t want to get all caught up in the excitement of a new relationship and not look at things objectively,” she finishes.

“You know,” Missy says helpfully, “that exciting new relationship, not thinking clearly, crazy in love feeling is something most people like, Sis.”

Dana shrugs. “You know me,” she says plainly, “I’m not really one for excitement.”

“I have a sneaking suspicion that Mulder is going to put that to the test,” Missy retorts with a smile, and Dana cringes.

“I think you may be right.”

———

Her demeanor when he picks her up for dinner seems just a bit guarded and is markedly different than it had been when they parted ways last night. He brushes it off, figuring that things between them are still new and awkward, and recognizing that he’s probably coming on just a little too strong.

The day has been grey and cool, and she’s wearing jeans and an oversized blue sweater, her hair pulled half up into a little bun. He smiles warmly at her, but stops short of telling her how amazing she looks, sensing that she might not want to hear it. They make their way to a little Mexican place near her house and she is polite but quiet as they order, munching on chips and salsa with a pensive expression.

“Are you okay?” he asks cautiously, and she nods. “I’m freaking you out, aren’t I?” he adds, and she shakes her head gently, but looks at him with wide eyes from beneath her lashes, and he knows it’s true.

He sits back, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Is it the sex part or the feelings part?” he questions, and when her eyebrows lift in surprise he suggests “Both?”

She laughs softly and shakes her head. “It’s really not you, Mulder, it’s me. I’m just not very comfortable with the whole,” she swirls her wrist around in the air, “whirlwind feeling, when things are new.”

He leans forward on his elbows and looks at her seriously. “Tell me what you need me to do differently, Scully, and I promise I’ll do it.”

“Maybe just...don’t act as though I hung the moon?” she offers with a pained expression. “I’m just a human person like anyone else, faults and all. It makes me worry that when you really get to know me you won’t like what you find.”

He gives her an amused smirk. “At the risk of further idolizing you, what’s not to like?”

“You want me to write a list?” She asks, returning his smirk, and he gives her a half shrug, half nod. “Well, if I’m basing this on what my family, friends, and past partners might say; I’m very rigid in my thinking on most matters, take myself far too seriously, am emotionally distant much of the time, don’t really know how to have fun and...I cannot carry a tune in a bucket. Basically I’m a total stick in the mud.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, smiling at her. Her self-consciousness is wildly endearing.

“Okay now you have to go,” she says, picking at her paper napkin.

“Oh, what are my worst qualities?” he clarifies, “Jeez, this could take a while. Um, I’m very singularly focused, as in whatever I’m chasing down at the moment I become completely obsessed with to the detriment of all other things in my life,” he casts her a little glance to confirm that she understands that this is what he’s doing with her, which she does.

“I’m a workaholic, though that’s a lot easier to manage when I’m not all that invested in what I’m working on. I’m terrible with things like birthdays, anniversaries, or generally sentimental things, I just forget them completely. I’m also persistent to a fault, and have a hard time letting things, and people, go, even when I should,” he looks at her again, and she gives him a tight-lipped smile. His worst qualities are the ones that are at risk of scaring her off right now.

“Well then, perhaps,” Scully offers, “I’ll work on not trying to shut you out, and you can work on not trying quite so hard to get in.”

“We’re still talking about feelings here, right?” he jokes, and she rolls her eyes.

“There’s another flaw I forgot, making jokes at completely inappropriate times.”

She smiles at him, with teeth, and he knows they’ll be okay. He needs to be mindful, but he hasn’t totally fucked it up yet.

The rest of their meal goes without incident. He talks about spontaneous human combustion while she calmly explains why it’s medically and scientifically impossible. The way she can disagree with him without talking to him like he’s a lunatic endears to him even further, but he works hard not to let it show. When the waiter comes by and asks about dessert, she shakes her head.

“I have ice cream at home,” she says after the waiter leaves, “saves us five bucks.”

He masks the surprise and delight he feels knowing she’s essentially just invited him back to her apartment, and absolutely does not allow himself to hope that she’ll let him stay the night. It’s a work night after all, and she’s just made clear that she has a tendency towards rules and guidelines; sleepovers on a school night seem like something she’d be against.

Back at her apartment, she gives him a quick tour, having neglected to do so when he was here last week, and he’s impressed though not surprised by how grown up and clean her place is. It matches her personality perfectly, and that makes him like the place immediately.

She opens the freezer and pulls out a pint of ice cream, then retrieves two spoons and hops up on to the counter, which brings them just about face to face height-wise. The cold blast from the open freezer has hardened her nipples and he avoids looking as they pass the pint back and forth, taking alternate bites and talking about their favorite and least favorite flavors. Soon enough, the tub is empty, and she sets it and the two spoons to the side, leaning back against the cupboard behind her. He steps closer into the space between her thighs and places his hands gently on her hips.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks in a neutral tone, not wanting to sound like he’s trying to persuade her.

She quirks her mouth to the side in consideration. “Maybe not just yet,” she says, then hooks her legs around the backs of his thighs and pulls him closer.

He suppresses a victorious smile and instead leans forward to kiss her, simultaneously slipping his hands under the hem of her sweater. She jumps a little at the contact, and he realizes how cold his fingers must be from the ice cream. He pulls his hands free, rubbing them together briskly in the space between their bodies as he continues to kiss her smiling mouth. When he’s satisfied that they are warm, he returns them to her bare sides and she hums in approval. Her hands find the back of his neck, scratching through his hair as his fingers trail their way up the ladder of her rib cage until they meet with the soft underside of her bare breasts. He wants to make mention of the lack of bra, but isn’t sure if calling attention to it would make her self conscious, so he says nothing and just enjoys it. Brushing his thumbs along the seam where chest becomes breast, he moves to kiss down her neck, teasing at the skin behind her ear with the firm tip of his tongue. Finding the spot she seems to like the best, he then runs his thumbs up until they meet with her hardened nipples and she emits a little moan that goes straight to his dick. He stays on this particular combination of rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger while licking and kissing her neck until she’s tightening the grip of her legs around his hips, seeking friction. He pushes the fabric of her sweater up slowly enough that she has plenty of time to tell him if she wants to stop, but once her breasts are exposed and his mouth is wrapped around one of her nipples, he is absolutely sure that she doesn’t. She lets her head fall back against the cupboard, breathing hard through her open mouth. He brings the fingers of one hand to the button on her jeans, then pauses.

“Okay?” he asks around the nipple between his lips, and she hums out an “mmmhmmm.”

Flicking the button open and easing the fly down, he slips his hand palm-up under her panties, drifting down through her neatly trimmed hair and into the slick heat of her. She’s deliciously wet, and knowing he caused it makes him feel weak in the knees as he rubs his groin against the edge of the counter, even more turned on than he had been before. He slides his fingers up and down over her swollen lips, his tongue still lapping and sucking at her nipples alternately, and she is panting and quaking beneath him, hips writhing and fingers digging into his neck telling him that she wants more. He circles his dampened thumb around her clit and she whimpers, clutching his head to her chest. His middle finger finds her entrance and swirls around it, not quite entering, and she stills, waiting, anticipating. When he continues with his same teasing movements, she lets out a frustrated breath and speaks.

“Please,” she whispers, her voice pained.

He smiles against her breast, slipping his finger inside, and she moans low and long, throbbing once around him. He experiments with different ways of touching her, inside and out, and soon she’s gasping and breathing raggedly, flexing her hips into his hand, nearly suffocating him with her breast in his mouth and he feels like he’s in heaven.

“Oh god,” she moans, then goes still for a long moment as he feels her walls clench tight around his finger. Then she’s coming, throbbing rhythmically and pulling his face up to kiss her, pouring her blissful moans right into his open mouth and clutching him as close as he can get with one hand in her pants. Finally, she touches his wrist gently and he pulls his hand free, enveloping her fully in his arms as they kiss with just as much passion as they started with.

“That really wasn’t what I had in mind when I suggested ice cream,” she says against his mouth, and he smiles, breaking the kiss.

“So that wasn’t some kind of ‘dessert’ double entendre?” he asks, pulling back slightly and looking at her flushed cheeks and still-dilated pupils.

“No, but I’m not exactly devastated that you interpreted it that way,” she replies with a playful lilt.

“So...what now?” he asks cautiously, neither wanting to overstay his welcome nor do what Frohike delicately calls ‘hit it and quit it.’

She bites her lip and considers the question. “You wanna hang out for a bit and watch TV? I’ll have to kick you out at 9:00, it being a school night and all.”

He feels his mouth stretch into a broad smile at the confirmation of his suspicion that she calls it early on work nights.

“Sounds perfect,” he replies, then steps back so she can jump down from the counter, re-fastening her jeans while casting him a mirthful glance.

They snuggle up on the couch and half-watch whatever is on, but mostly they talk, and kiss, and laugh. He finally asks her about the little gold cross necklace she’s always wearing, and he finds himself further enamored with how complex she is; a woman of science and religion, beautiful and strong, smart and fun. He’s working hard to temper his expression of it, but if he was only ninety-five percent sure he was in love with her when he said it back in August, he is one-hundred-twenty percent sure now.

True to her word, she kicks him out at 9:00 and promises that they will get together for coffee this week once she takes a look at her autopsy schedule and knows which days she’s free.

Once in his car, he drops his head against the back of the seat with a satisfied sigh. All week at work, his colleagues will ask him what he’s smiling about, and he’ll tell them truthfully that he’s just really, really happy.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

39 notes · View notes

kpop-stan23-writes · 4 years ago

Text

new money mingi

mingi's back 🥰🥰🥰 you can read seonghwa’s part here and san’s part here

group: ateez member: mingi feat hongjoong and jongho with seonghwa, yunho, yeosang, and wooyoung genre: fluff 🥰 word count: 1.5k warnings: none pairing: mingi x gn!reader

note: i have no idea what goes on during a photoshoot and i have no idea what exactly a photographer does 🤷🏻‍♀️

also is this even rich boi au? or just fashion mingi au?

the type of new money maker who doesn't change a bit

he's just like i have this money but i don't know what to do with it so i guess i'll just leave it in my bank account

childhood friend yunho urges him to invest it

(and then prevents mischievous wooyoung from talking mingi in investing it all on a nonsense app that everyone knows is going to flop)

(yeosang almost manages to trick mingi into signing a fake contract that would sign over like a quarter of any future earnings to him)

(but seonghwa swoops in and scolds yeosang while explaining to mingi why you don't just sign whatever your friend tells you to)

(yeosang totally doesn't just shrug and say "at least i didn't ask for half)

earns his money through fashion

bs-s his way through school not because he's a terrible student but because he much prefers the practical side of things versus the theoretical

befriends double major theory sunbae hongjoong

collaborates during finals and earns high marks and praises

when hongjoong graduates he goes into music instead of fashion

but is always there to lend an ear or an eye when mingi is working on a project

whether for school or for himself

helps mingi generate buzz by wearing his designs to the studio

which piques the interest of the musicians and singers hongjoong works with

starts off in a small studio space creating custom designs for hongjoong and his friends

but as more and more people take notice of mingi's work, his studio and business grow

eventually is able to expand into marketable clothing

which is how he meets you

you're a photographer who has worked with hongjoong before and agrees to do a photoshoot at a discount

you arrive at the studio early to set up

mingi is already there with hongjoong, who took the day off to help

hongjoong introduces you to mingi, who is tall and lanky and looks like he could be a model himself with his proportions

but he has a sweet smile and a child-like innocence that makes you want to protect him from the every-man-for-himself world he's about to dive into

you have an aura about you that puts mingi to ease immediately

he's sat in on photoshoots before, where the models and the deisngers and the photographer don't see eye to eye and it takes hours just to get one good set up because no one can agree on a vision

but you take the time to look at all the clothes and listen to what mingi has in mind

once the models arrive it's go go go

you pose the models and make suggestions on hair and makeup but you always get mingi's approval before you start snapping away on your camera

it's the quickest, most painless photoshoot mingi or hongjoong have ever witnessed

you're the last one to leave besides the two men and you give them your card again and tell them to contact you if they're ever in need of your services

as mingi's brand grows, so does his need for photoshoots

he holds onto your card and you become the only photographer he'll work with

not in a snobby, demanding way

just in that he loves your work and your work ethic and maybe he loves you a little too

you become an even bigger success as people take note of the amazing shoots and their equally amazing photographer

soon you're working nearly nonstop, and it becomes increasingly harder to book you

the first time you're unavailable for a photoshoot for mingi, he pouts about it for the longest time

hongjoong refers him to another photographer that he assures his taller friend is just as hard-working and dedicated as you

and mingi has to agree that yes, this new photographer is good

but they're not you

at first mingi tells himself he misses your work, your dedication to your craft, the effort you put into making every photoshoot your best shoot ever

but as you miss more and more of his shoots, the more he realizes he just plain misses you

your upbeat but calm energy

the cute way you furrow your brow when you're thinking

the fierce look of determination you get when you're on the verge of capturing something magical on your precious camera

the satisfied expression when you get the shot that only lasts a moment because you have more perfection to capture

your exhausted but sweet smile as you say goodbye at the end of a long but satisfying day of work, when you remind him he has your number if he ever needs your services

hongjoong is in the back shaking his head because you're clearly hinting at something more but mingi is just too oblivious to notice

finally, after months and months of being booked solid, there's a hole in your schedule

when mingi hears about this from a friend of a friend of a friend, he nearly rushes his next line, hoping he can catch you while he still can

hongjoong walks in on mingi running around his workshop like a chicken with his head cut off and demands to know what all the fuss is about

his voice half muffled because he's buried under a pile of silk, mingi yells that he needs to make sure his next line is ready asap so that you can do the photoshoot

hongjoong rolls his eyes and shouts back that you're taking a two month break because you had been run to the ground with the constant back to back shoots

mingi reappears from the mountain of silk and just says "you couldn't have told me that sooner?"

"how did i know you'd try to rush your next line?"

anyway mingi takes the two months to make sure everything is perfect before the next launch and you take the two months to catch your breath and search for someone to help you

you hire jongho, a young, fresh-outta-college photography major who has admired your work since before you got famous

he's just as dedicated and hardworking as you, and you're satisfied that he understands the importance of the care you take in every shoot you do

when mingi is ready for his next clothing launch, he thanks whatever higher power there might be that you're available

(he doesn't find out until years later that hongjoong made certain mingi was your first client after your break)

(he only pouts about it for like a day)

mingi is definitely only mildly disappointed when it's not you who steps through the door but this buff kid who hauls in all the equipment with like just his pinky

mingi definitely doesn't nearly knock over jongho as he's setting up the camera when you walk in the door

(he also completely misses the deadpan stare jongho gives him and the muttering under his breath - something about how he could bench press like ten of these walking bean stalks)

you introduce mingi to your new assistant/apprentice jongho who mingi is definitely not even slightly scared of because wow his hands look like they could crush watermelons - effortlessly

the photoshoot runs smoothly, though jongho is very tempted to flick mingi very solidly in the forehead because why can't this tall bean stalk stop staring at my boss like a creep

as everything gets packed at the end of the long but successful shoot, jongho definitely does not purposefully trip mingi so that he crashes into you

mingi turns bright red and after apologizing over and over he glares at the young photographer who just smiles and shrugs innocently

you laugh it off and assure mingi you're fine and joke that it's a good thing you didn't have a camera in your hands otherwise you would definitely be sending him the bill

"or you know maybe i would find other ways for you to pay me back" you continue while looking mingi square in the eyes

his eyes go wide and his mouth falls open in shock and you laugh gently at his absolutely astonished expression

jongho can be heard snickering in the background but mingi doesn't care because did you just--are you saying--sorry what now

you smile at him and remind him that he has your number if he's ever in need of your services before waving and heading after jongho

the next time mingi calls you and asks when you're available you tell him that you're just finishing up a shoot and can be ready in a hour if that works for him

spoiler it totally works for him

#ateez #mingi #hongjoong #jongho #feat #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #wooyoung #ateez scenarios #mingi scenarios #ateez fluff #mingi fluff #kinda rich boy au??#eh i'll tag it #rich boy au #rich boy!mingi #he's back!!!#the money series

32 notes · View notes

thestraggletag · 4 years ago

Text

Virtual Session, A Rumbelle Zoom Fic

Rating: Explicit.

Summary: Town meetings were usually drab, boring events, and having them over Zoom hadn't improved them much. Or so Mr Gold thought, until he forgot to log out of the meeting after it ended, only to discover a half-naked Belle French had also forgotten to do so.

SOMEONE PLEASE COMMENT WITH A BETTER SUMMARY I HATE IT.

Based on this prompt.

“We will review your presentation and hold a virtual vote before the month is up, Miss French. Thank you very much for your time.”

The mayor adjusted her suit jacket, her shirt riding up as she did so and unknowingly displaying the telltale white check of her Adidas yoga pants. Royce snickered, taking advantage of the fact he was muted.

“As there are no other pending topics on today’s agenda this virtual session is adjourned.”

He half-expected her to produce a gable out of thin air and bang it against her marble countertop. All around him people began to say their goodbyes and log out of Zoom, lest Regina decide to spring a surprise motion at the last minute. There was no need to flee, however, as Regina herself was one of the first to log off. Given the amount of smoke he had spotted coming from behind her right before she exited he did not need to guess what had caused her sudden departure.

“I guess no apple turnover for dessert at Madame Mayor’s.”

He heard an adorable chuckle and did not need to glance at the screen again to guess who it was. Very few people found his brand of dark humour palatable, but the librarian seemed to love it. It was nice, he soon found out, to have someone appreciate his often ill-received quips. It was one of the things he had first noticed about her. Well, other than her stunning eyes. And perhaps her hair, which was a lovely shade of reddish-brown. Her legs too, he acknowledged reluctantly, so nicely-displayed by her short skirts and high heels. And her-

He stopped himself. That way lay madness and he knew it. It was one thing to admire in an unattached way, from a distance. He was a connoisseur of beautiful things, after all, and Belle French was certainly beautiful. Unfortunately she also happened to have a lovely personality. Kind, generous, open, but also bold, defiant and the littlest bit dark. She flaunted the rules of smalltown society by wearing what the matrons around town considered “inappropriate clothing” for a librarian, and speaking to anyone and everyone, including those that polite society would urge her to shun. Drank beer with the miners, for example, men deemed “too coarse” for genteel women, and stocked the library with altogether undesirable books, be it because they dealt with unseemly issues or because they were from traditional authors. Which, he was sure, was code for “white men”, even if Mother Superior never quite spelled it out in such terms.

She was altogether dangerous for him, with her mix of light and dark, so he was always on his guard, lest his thoughts veer too far into dangerous territory. He didn’t fear scorn or derision if his feelings became too obvious for her to ignore. Belle was altogether too kind for that. But to be gently yet firmly rebuffed, and have their subsequent interactions laced by the barest hint of pity from her, would be unbearable.

“I’m pretty sure that at least Mr Spencer didn’t hear a word I said. His camera was off during the whole of my presentation.” The librarian huffed, clearly bothered that her proposal to increase the library’s budget to repair the East Wing’s leaky ceiling wouldn’t get a fair shot. The wing was currently closed, and had been since she had taken the post of librarian, but with the newfound need of social-distancing, particularly in enclosed spaces, she hoped she could change that, make the town council see the need for more space in the library. “Though perhaps he didn’t want to be yelled at again for not being in a three-piece suit for a virtual town meeting.”

He briefly paused to remember Spencer’s red face when Regina had chastised him for wearing a white polo shirt instead of a shirt and tie during the last meeting.

“Kinda hypocritical of Madame Mayor, given she was a couple of clothing articles shy of a full tracksuit tonight.”

They shared a conspiratorial laugh, and he hoped the camera somehow toned down the stupid look on his face. He tried to avoid direct eye contact, looking instead mildly-interested in her living-room. Her laptop seemed to be perched somewhere on her dining-room table, giving him a great view of the rest of her flat, which was a loft, so it was open space, with exposed brick and tall ceilings. Though small it was tastefully-decorated, and with enough bookcases to make it seem like it was a part of the library he had never been to, if it weren’t for the kitchen area and the- and he told himself to stop looking at it- queen-size bed.

“Well, Miss French, at the risk of getting ahead of myself I can confidently state that things are looking good for your project. It was an excellent presentation and I could see Midas and Hopper were clearly in favour. That leaves the Mayor and Spencer outnumbered. Hell, I think even Regina will vote yes on this one. I know she’s keen on finding a place for students with connectivity issues to go do their homework and attend some classes. Fingers crossed the voting goes your way.”

He smiled at her, trying to look reassuring instead of besotted, and they exchanged their goodbyes. He closed his laptop, deciding that he needed a stiff drink first and a cold shower later, and went over to his wet bar, where after some debate he picked up a bottle of Ardberg and poured himself three fingers of Scotch, opting to forgo the ice and drink it straight. The alcohol burned pleasantly on its way down, making him loosen up almost immediately. He went over to the window, undoing the buttons of his vest and slipping it off as he did, feeling warmed by the whiskey. He chanced a glance outside, where the night remained crisp and clear, thankfully devoid of snow. It was still bitterly cold, though, and he hoped the library’s heating system, which was in need of maintenance as well, would not fail. The money for its maintenance had already been allocated and the budget for the work set, but perhaps he could email the person in charge of the job and… persuade them to make it a priority. The work should’ve already been done, but the pandemic had put a temporary stop on jobs like that with the exception of emergencies. Now that things were slowly returning to normal he was confident he could get the people working on the library by the end of the week with three sentences or less.

He went back to his laptop, determined to send the email as soon as possible. He opened it up and noticed, at first, that his camera light was still on. Almost as soon as his brain connected the dots and realised that he had forgotten to log off Zoom he noticed something else: so had Belle French. She was walking around her house, seemingly tidying things up and humming as she went along. It was a lovely, domestic little display, and though he knew he needed to log off fucking Zoom and stop intruding on what Miss French clearly thought was the privacy of her own home, he didn’t move the mouse. Surely there was no harm in indulging a bit. He was a lonely man, partly by design and partly by circumstance, and though he often told himself he wasn’t missing out on anything, he had to admit it was nice to- albeit accidentally- share an intimate moment with someone he had an affinity with. He imagined, for a moment, that instead of her living-room he was seeing her in his, picking up discarded books or perhaps the remnants of a tea they had shared together. He quickly shook himself out of that fantasy, alarm bells ringing in his mind, and refocused in the present, where Belle was taking off her cardigan. Well, surely, that meant the heating system was holding, which was a good thing. Which reminded him of his idea to write-

He glanced at the monitor again, where Belle French was now shimming out of her skirt.

He blinked, idiotically-confused for a second, as if the thought of a woman undressing was news for him. After the initial shock he took in all the details, fixsting on the black stripe on the back of her sheer black stockings, which she rolled down with painstaking care, the gesture almost painfully erotic. She started on the buttons of her sheer maroon shirt, undoing them with ease and shrugging out of the garment. The black camisole she wore underneath did nothing to conceal her lacy black culotte, which hugged her perfect ass like it was made for her. She went to unpin her hair next, letting the bobby pins that kept it off her sides of her face drop into a little ceramic bowl on her vanity. He was surprised at how much seeing her walk around her house with bare feet, shaking her hair out and stretching her limbs affected him. There was nothing inherently sensual about her movements, yet he was transfixed, unable to look away. Any hope of containing his attraction or attachment to the librarian vanished into thin air at that moment, leaving him equal parts scared and turned on.

It was then that his mostly-unused sense of decency decided to let itself be known, a wave of shame washing through him at the notion of what he was doing. Miss French had every right to her privacy, and here he was, violating it in the worst possible way. He should log out immediately and stay away from the librarian for a rather long time, enough for-

“Royce?”

His heart lurched painfully in his chest at the sound of her voice. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned his head towards the screen, telling himself that he deserved the scorn and disgust he was sure to see in the librarian’s face. But whatever hasty apologies and half-formed excuses he was about to blurt out died on his lips the moment he saw her: she was standing in profile, arms crossed in front of her chest and hands grasping the hem of her camisole, prepared to take it off, and her head was turned to the side, her eyes on her laptop screen. She didn’t look accusatory, or disgusted. She didn’t even look embarrassed. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone, but it looked more like… like...

Arousal.

“I’m here, sweetheart.”

He could hardly recognise the low, growly burr as his voice. It sounded uncouth and harsh, like the way he used to speak back in Glasgow. He had worked for years on toning down his accent, letting only the barest hint of it show when he was trying to intimidate someone. Never enough to sound too much like he did back in his youth, and yet he hadn’t managed to quite rid himself of it.

On screen Belle lifted the hem of her camisole a few inches, exposing supple, creamy skin. Royce tried hard not to swallow his own tongue. She bit her lip, suddenly hesitant, and fuck him if that sliver of vulnerability wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

“Is this… Is this okay?”

It took him an embarrassingly-long time to understand that Belle fucking French was asking him if it was alright for her to strip in front of him, presumably for their mutual enjoyment. He reminded himself that he had had only one glass of Scotch, not enough to dismiss whatever was happening as a drunken daydream. Which he might have had, from time to time. About Belle. Maybe.

“It’s perfect, sweetheart.”

Her lips curled into a coy smile, the growl in his voice making her shiver, and in one swift motion removed her camisole, revealing a lacy black bandeau bra with delicate details done in leavers lace. It matched her knickers, he noticed idly, and the black contrasted amazingly with her pale, softly-blushed skin. His keen eye noticed the exquisite craftsmanship right away. It was an expensive set, no doubt, and given how she was wearing during a commonplace day where she planned to stay home it led him to the conclusion that Belle French simply owned a lot of fancy lingerie, to the point that she wore it as an everyday sort of garment. He was very sure he would never again be able to look at her and not think about that.

“You’re gorgeous.”

In any other situation he would’ve been embarrassed to sound so… Reverent. So incredibly not in control of the situation. He might be fully-dressed, a man of means with a position of political power in their little hamlet and she might be a half-naked small-town librarian but he was absolutely powerless at the moment. And what was worse, he enjoyed it.

“Thank you, Mr Gold.”

Though he loved the way she said “Gold”, with enough irreverence to turn her tone teasing, he desperately wanted her to say his name.

“Call me Royce, sweetheart.”

She walked over to the table, flipped the chair and sat down, draping her arms loosely around the backrest, the position loose and cocky. There was no doubt in her now, no hesitance. She had assumed control of the situation, for which he was grateful. She tilted her head to a side, sizing him up.

“You’re wearing a lot of clothes, Royce. I feel at a disadvantage.”

She smiled, looking supremely unconcerned, but there was a glint in her eyes he recognised quite easily. Greed. And not the kind he was used to seeing in people who frequented his shop to strike one of his infamous deals. It was different. It certainly felt different to him, hit him right beneath his gut in a way that felt both uncomfortable and pleasant. Without quite thinking his fingers went to the knot of his tie, already loosened, and tugged expertly, untying it in seconds. The silk made a soft, hissing sound as it slipped off his neck, which sounded loud in the otherwise dead silence of the room. Belle followed his movements avidly from the screen, and the look of utter absorption on her face gave him the surge of bravery he needed to tackle the buttons of his shirt till he could shimmy out of it. He was wearing a white undershirt beneath, but his arms and throat were bare, making him feel ridiculously exposed.

“You have many layers. I like that about you.” Belle dropped her gaze, looking coy and vulnerable at the same time. “I like a lot of things about you.”

“Me too.” He tried to stop himself, but it was easier said than done. “Too many things, actually. But I’ve always understood that it would be foolish to expect anything to come of that.” He looked at Belle, draped over her chair and in her underwear. “Well, perhaps I was wrong.”

Belle smiled.

“You’re finally getting it. Good boy.”

He forced himself not to react visibly to those words, even though the moment he heard them it was like being struck by lightning. Thankfully the camera caught him from the waist up, hiding the embarrassing way his cock had perked up a second earlier. He could not hide his flushed face, however, or the way his eyes glazed over the slightest bit.

“Tell you what. I’ll take off my bra if you lose the t-shirt. It’s a fair deal.”

It wasn’t. As far as he was concerned he was getting the far better end of the deal but he would never dream of telling her that. Tipping his hand was not his style.

“Deal.”

He said it in the pleased, soft burr he usually reserved for his less savoury business arrangements, the kind that needed to be sealed in the cloak of night in some remote, deserted location. Belle shivered, and he enjoyed the thought that his voice made her react so. Feeling bold he grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked it off, baring himself from the waist up. He saw and felt the librarian’s eyes roam over his torso. It wasn’t a pretty sight. He had scars from his dodgy upbringing in Glasgow, and some from his learning days restoring antiques. He was fond of the sun so at least he was not pasty white, or overly hairy, but he didn’t have much in the way of muscles. Belle, however, seemed to appreciate his more lean physique, if the heat of her gaze was any indication. After she seemed to have her fill of staring she leaned back and deftly unhooked her bra, letting the straps slide down her arms till the garment was on the floor.

He stared. Couldn’t help himself really. Belle French’s tits were perfect. Fucking perfect. Just the right size, incredibly soft-looking and with the loveliest nipples he had ever seen, a rosy-pink that he would never be able to get out of his head. The kind of breasts that would ruin a man for other women. He certainly felt like no other breasts could ever tempt him again.

“Royce, are you okay?”

Her voice sounded a delightful mix of amused and slightly worried, so he forced himself to nod, still unable to look away.

“Fucking perfect.”

Fuck, was that his voice? He sounded… dazed. He fought the instinct to slap some sense into himself. Belle draped herself across the back of the chair again, and though the position hid her breasts somewhat it didn’t do so completely.

“I love how soft you are. Underneath the hardass pawnbroker exterior, I mean. Soft, and kind and funny. So funny. It’s one of your most attractive qualities.”

Most people wouldn’t think so. His brand of humour was dark, sometimes too much. And yet Belle always laughed, always caught on to his quips and seemed to appreciate them in a consporatory way. She could also dish it out, but in a far more subtle way that he was sure most people didn’t catch on to. Softly-spoken sarcasm delivered in a lilting accent.

What was not to love?

He told her so. Unburdened himself completely, caught up in his own physical vulnerability and hers. It felt safe to tell her of his feelings, of how days where he knew he would see her were brighter, and how he liked when they shared a smile or exchanged a comment on a book. How his heart fluttered when he watched her read to the children, and how another part of his anatomy altogether reacted when she strutted around town with her short skirts and devil-may-care attitude. Liked how she thumbed her nose at the pearl-clutchers in town, doing things her way. Completely unsuited for boring, conventional small-town life, and yet wholly at home in Storybrooke, to the point where he could not imagine the town without her.

He shut up after that, noticing how she seemed to have changed, her mood going from loose and flirty to… anxious? No, that wasn’t the right word. Unsettled, perhaps.

“I can’t do this.” The sudden sentence felt like a slap in the face, but the moment his face dropped she seemed to backpedal. “No, no, not like that! I mean… I wanna touch you. I want to be in the same room. With even less clothes on. This… It suddenly doesn’t feel like enough.”

She was fucking right, he realised. He felt itchy all of a sudden. Unfulfilled. Empty.

“Come over.”

“What?”

Belle seemed genuinely surprised, but the way her skin flushed and her eyes got big let him know she was very open to the idea.

“Come the fuck over. It’s fucking cold anyway and the heating system at the library is shite at the moment. Come over and I’ll keep you warm, sweetheart.”

He was rather impressed with his blunt bit of bravery, born out of a consuming need more than anything, and even more impressed when it looked like it worked. Belle scrambled out of the chair, throwing a lovely little nightie on before getting her coat and scarf.

“Be there in a few. See you!”

She disconnected before he could tell her to bundle up. It was fucking freezing outside and that nightie and her stockings and shoes would do nothing against the cold, coat or no coat. A moment later he realised he was sitting down in his pants, socks and shoes and nothing else while Belle fucking French was coming over to...

Fuck.

He scrambled up, fishing for his cane in a hurry and having just enough presence of mind to disconnect from Zoom. He went upstairs to his room, deciding that it would be awkward for him to still be wearing pants. And socks. And shoes. So he chucked all that off, throwing a dressing gown over his boxers, pausing to put on his house slippers, glad beyond words he had recently bought new ones. After that he went downstairs to the kitchen and popped a bottle of champagne, looking into his pantry for the box of chocolate truffles from Kreuther, a treat he had gotten himself after visiting a state sale in Midtown Manhattan a week ago. He arranged the impromptu offerings on the dining room table, and when the bell rang he told himself he was ready. He opened the door, finding a rosy-cheeked and clearly shivering Belle on the other side, hair windswept, as if she had run there. Taking into account her heels it was rather impressive.

Belatedly he thought about the scene she had walked into. He in his dressing gown, with champagne flutes and truffles on the table and a fire roaring in the living-room, a scenario ripe for debauching. But perhaps she wished to talk more, to explore their emotional intimacy. Perhaps the trek there had killed her ardour and all she wanted and needed was to get warm and comfortable. He didn’t want to come off as… expecting anything.

Belle, however, seemed to not share his concerns. She took one look at him, one look at the softly-lit space behind him and the food laid out and smiled.

“You brilliant, wonderful man.”

A second late she was in his arms. Cold, but soft and smelling of orange blossoms and frost. She tilted her head up, slanting her lips across before he could blink and it was… wonderful. The coolness of her lips contrasted with the searing heat of her mouth, making for a rather delicious contrast of sensations. He used the hand not clutching his cane for dear life to find the buttons of her coat, undoing them one by one with barely-contained impatience. Finally he had the coat opened and could snake his arm around her waist. The silk of her small camisole was soft to the touch, and let him feel the warmth of her skin beneath.

He needed to feel more. Now that she was safe in the warmth of his house she didn’t need her coat or scarves and went about the business of removing both without separating himself from her. It took a lot of tugging and pulling and a couple of missteps that landed her up against the wall, to his utter delight, but she was finally rid of both. Her skin, despite the toasty temperature inside the house, was still chilly from the outside.

“Come close to the fire, sweetheart.”

They managed to stumble across the hallway and into the living room, where they seemed to come to the mutual conclusion that remaining standing was not conducive to their current situation. The rug near the fireplace, thankfully, was thick and soft, and the couple of throw blankets he quickly spread over it made it more so. Once he was satisfied she would be comfortable he let her tackle him to the ground, enjoying having her above him. She was small, especially once she wrestled her heeled boots off. A tiny slip of a woman, shorter than him even, but there was a presence to her, a strength, that he couldn't help but surrender to. Beautiful, terrifying Belle.

“I’ve dreamed of this.” Her voice was low, husky. “You weren’t wearing a dressing gown in my dreams, though.”

“And you weren’t wearing anything in mine.” His accent was so thick he feared she might not be able to understand me. “Tit for tat, dearie.”

She ground herself against him, causing him to hiss and arc. Enough pressure to elicit a response, but not nearly enough to satisfy him.

“Don’t call me that. That’s how you call everyone else, and I’m not everyone else, am I?”

Her confidence slipped for a second, exposing a hint of uncertainty that he was quick to dispel.

“No, sweetheart. Of course not.”

He untied the belt of his dressing gown, managing to slip it off while still pinned by Belle. He didn’t imagine it was a very sexy spectacle but she seemed to appreciate it nevertheless. To reward him she yanked her nightie off, revealing her glorious breasts once again to his hungry stare. She was absolutely perfect, made even better by the way the fire lit her skin and hair, and turned her eyes a deeper blue. She looked fierce yet soft, a magnanimous mistress looking down fondly at a favoured pet. Idly she traced a scar near his right shoulder with the tip of her index finger, frowning the slightest bit.

“I want to know the story behind this. I want to know… more. About you. All there is to know that you wish to tell me.”

“Yes.” Usually he’d balk at the idea of such intimacy, of being so bare. Yet it felt like something he could do with Belle, something he wanted to do. “Yes, of course, sweetheart. And I want to know everything about you.”

She smiled, the gesture slowly turning sultry as she crossed her elbows over his chest.

“We’ll talk… later.”

She kissed him then, slowly and thoroughly, sinking one hand into his hair so she could tilt his head just so. Her fingernails felt delicious against the sensitive skin of his scalp and were a welcome distraction from the uncomfortable pressure of her ass against his groin. He wanted to last, desperately, but she was every wet dream he’d ever had come true. He needed to redirect his attention to anywhere but his aching cock. So he forced himself to focus on anything else. The soft, silky feeling of her skin against the rough pads of his fingers, and the taste of her, faintly sweet. She kissed like it was an art, managing to somehow find every spot that made him want to rip her panties off and just bury himself in her, foreplay be damned.

He startled when he felt her hands trail down his body and grasp the elastic of his underwear, tugging on it to hint at what she wanted. He obliged her before he could talk himself out of it, raising his hips so she could slide the boxers off his legs while still kissing. He felt her touch his mangled ankle and forced himself not to flinch or pull back. Blessedly she seemed to notice his discomfort, tugging his boxers off completely and reaching out to place his hands on the sides of her hips, against the scratchy fabric of her underwear. The message was clear, especially when she propped herself against the floor with her hands so she could raise her hips. He gently tugged her pantied down, with slow, careful movements to avoid accidentally ripping the delicate lace and not simply to watch in aroused amusement as Belle fidgeted above him.

“Patience, sweetheart.”

She whined, kicking her panties off when they reached her ankles and pushing him back a second later, her expression demanding.

“No more delays. We’ve had months of foreplay.”

He found himself agreeing with her. It certainly felt like they had been teasing each other for months, with the shared jokes, the furtive glances, bitten lips and coy smiles. Not that he had even dared dream of it before that night. Belle was too good in every way for a bitter old cripple like himself. Her hands on his cock chased his self-deprecation away, leaving his mind in a blissful state of blankness. Slowly, torturously so, she took him in, her hot, wet cunt enveloping him with the right amount of pressure. It was almost too good a feeling, leaving his nerve-endings too excited to register much else. She was fucking perfect, the feel of her the weight of her above him. Like she was made for him, only he wasn’t that lucky.

He needed to somehow make it up to her, make it so good she would not regret it. So he focused on establishing a rhythm, steady enough to build up their pleasure, but not too perfect to make it boring. He concentrated on the sounds she made, the perfect little gasps and the occasional, shivery whine that let him know she was enjoying herself. Soon enough, however, coordination and any form of higher thinking went out the window, the pleasure getting to be too much to focus on anything else other than driving himself as deep into her as he possibly could. He had enough presence of mind to sneak a hand between their bodies, slipping it across her wet fold to stimulate her further, determined not to come before she did. When he finally felt it, the blissful fluttering of her inner walls accompanied by a triumphant cry, he let go of his last shreds of self-control, letting his body seek out its needed release, the feeling travelling up his spine and leaving his whole body boneless with satisfaction.

He grunted when she practically fell on top of him, though he welcomed the reassuring weight of her and the heat from her body. He thought about the champagne and the truffles waiting for them on the dining room table and decided they could wait. As soon as he was able to move he would wrap his dressing gown around Belle and take her and the food and drinks to the bedroom, where they could recoup their energy and talk. And perhaps much later, if he was good, Belle would let him drink champagne from her navel.

Thank Regina and her fucking Zoom twon halls. He would never complain about them again.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #Thestraggletag fanfiction #Virtual Session

53 notes · View notes

blownbybakugou · 4 years ago

Text

1K Special | The Chick From Chicken Hut|

Thank you all so much for getting me to 1K! Here is a gift from me to you!

Pairing: Hawks x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2k

The gentle breeze of the night lightly ruffled his feathers as Keigo shuffled quickly to his favorite fast food place; Chicken Hut. The chicken was the best in town, and despite it being mildly unhealthy, Hawks was obsessed with the chicken they had there. So much, that at 3am, if he had cravings for it, he’d go and get it. Much like now. Keigo strutted through the entrance of the meat scented shop and leaned against the front counter, not bothering to look at the cashier. “I’ll have my regular.” He claims cheekily, batting his eyelashes under his yellow face covering. “And that is?” A voice asks, tapping their fingers against the tabletop. Keigo flips around quickly, expecting the guy that usually knew his order. But instead, he saw you. The glowing, beautiful, alluring woman before him. “Sorry, I’m new. I’m guessing you come here often?” You ask softly, giving a small smile. Dumbfounded, Hawks just stares at your glossy lips, almost in a trance at how welcoming they looked to him.

“Uh, hello? Do you want me to call an ambulance?” You ask, waving a hand in front of his dazed orbs. “No, no! I’m fine. Can I have 2 large buckets of chicken legs, with a small side of mashed potatoes?” He chuckles, rubbing the back of neck that was hot from embarrassment. “Okay! That will be ¥2186” You exclaim, sending the order to the back. In a flash, around ¥10,500 was slammed down onto the counter. “Keep the change.” He states, a grin forming onto his lips. “Um, a-are you sure? This is 100 US dollars, sir. I can give you change-”

“No, you can keep it. I have money to spare.” He boasts, his big, scarlet wings twitching behind him. “Yeah, okay.” You grunt, putting the money away and going to the back to see if his food was ready. You honestly just didn’t want to have to make conversation with the cocky bastard, and you knew if you stood there with him, you’d obviously have to. He did oddly look somewhat familiar to you, like you had seen him before. You try not to let the thought cloud your mind for long, as the food was ready. Since it was 3am, the order was out relatively fast, and you were quick to hand the abnormally large bag of meat to the bird-like man.

“Thanks for coming to Chicken Hut, come again” You say, waving him off as he checked the contents of the bag. He gave you a quick wink when he walked out of the store, and it was just then when you realized why he looked so familiar. That was the pro hero, Hawks.

The next day, Keigo came back, this time bearing flowers. ust to make sure you would be there, he made sure to arrive at the same time he had beforehand, even though this time his craving for chicken wasn’t as heavy as before. “Hello, beautiful lady.” He chirps, sticking the flowers out for you. “O-Oh. Well, it’s not everyday that I get flowers from a pro hero. Thank you, Hawks.” You smile. You were still a bit irked at how much money he flaunted at you yesterday, but this action nearly made you forget about it completely. “Ah, so you do know who I am.” Hawks laughed, eyes crinkled from enjoyment. “I didn’t realize until you walked out yesterday. Guess I was a bit tired from all the late nights.” You claim, brushing back some out of place hairs. “Well, I’ll have-” “2 large buckets of chicken legs and a small side of mashed potatoes. Already put the order in.” You giggle, leaning your chest into the edge of the counter.

“So, I brought you these because I wanted to take you out for a cup of coffee. Get to know each other and stuff. Are you interested?” He asks, removing the yellow tinted goggles from his head. You felt heat rise to your cheeks and neck at the confession, but you covered it up swiftly by looking down at your fingers. “Yeah sure. I guess it has been awhile since I’ve gone out.” You mumble, finally looking up at the blonde hero. “Glad to hear, little bird. Is tomorrow at 3 good with you?” He grins. Your heart skips a bat at the nickname, but you do your best to cover it up with a snide comment. “Is it 3pm or am this time? Because I don’t know if I can keep up with your hectic sleep schedules.” You laugh, and watch as Keigo rolls his eyes. “I’m not the one who works at 3am.” He scoffs, then joins in on your laughter. “Okay, you win. Tomorrow at 3pm.” You emphasize the pm, giggling at the end to make him smile again. Because you were beginning to think his smile was addictive.

You were taking your sweet time getting ready, knowing that you didn’t have to meet up with Takami for another 30 minutes yet, and you also needed to make sure you looked perfect. You had given Hawks your number to tell you where you would be meeting up, and no more than 5 minutes after he had left with your digits, you got a message.

You entered the café, looking over the scenery and people, before spotting Hawks’ crimson wings near the window booth. “Hey, you made it.” Keigo smirks and gestures to the seat across from him. You gingerly sit down, and return the smile he gave you. "Yeah, well how could someone skip out on a date with the pro hero Hawks?” You respond. "A date?” Kei chirps up. You giggle, nodding while maintaining an evident blush across your cheeks. “You really know how to make a man bend to his will, ya know?” you brush off his comment with your own. “I work at Chicken Hut, the only way could make a man-bend to my will is by holding his order hostage” You roll your eyes. “I don't know, you caught my attention with one look.”

The date went on for hours, long after the café closed, until it was time for your night shift once again. “C’mon, not even a discount?” “Nope, sorry. You got to pay for your food like everybody else.” The pout on Keigo’s lips made you weak to your knees, and mindlessly, you walked to the back to retrieve his chicken.

“Here, take it.” You huff, your cheeks glowing a red that could make Hawks’ scarlet wings jealous. “Looks like my little songbird has a little crush on me” Takami hums, wearing a flashy grin that made your face burn a little hotter. “The fact that you’re referring to me as your songbird means that you feel the same way, idiot.” You backfire, jumping over the counter to face him. “What’re you gonna do about it, little chick?” He says smugly, looking into your eyes to take his dominance. “This.” You catch his lips, moving them rhythmically with him and drape your arms over his shoulders. The kiss was only a few seconds long, but you knew that you weren’t the only one who felt the flying sparks between you two. And that fact made your nerves calm down slightly, the nerves that were making your confidence shred to bits, and making the tips of your ears a bright shade of red.

“Aw, is my little chick embarrassed?” You turn away, only for him to grab your jaw, and pull you back towards him. His wings wrapped around the both of you, caging you in his arms. “Have you ever had a dream, little chick?” Keigo asks, his voice making you shiver. “Of course I have!” You mock. “What is it then, Ms. Confidence?” He shot back, chuckling. “I wanted to be a chef, or at least be the apprentice of one. But sadly, that kind o stuff requires real money. Money that I don’t have.” You mumble to him. The food prep team were all in the back, and you could nearly feel their gazes burning holes into your head, which was barely sticking out of the top of Keigo’s wings. “Looks like my little bird has an audience.” He purrs, stroking your hair with his calloused hand. “I think they’re looking at you, bird brain.” You roll your eyes, all while wondering how long you could keep up this faux act of assertiveness. Hawks clicks his tongue, tapping your bottom lips with his pointer finger. “Such mean words, songbird” He whines, releasing you from his wing-trap. “Anyway, I’ll be off now. Thanks for the free food babe” He winks, speed-walking out of the place, into the breezy night. But you were happy knowing that he would come back the very next early morning.

Oh how wrong you were. You may have gotten a little hopeful of your 3am fling, and that’s what drug you down when you saw that the blonde hero didn’t come in the next day. You had been so excited, that you had even prepared his food before he came in, and made sure to keep it warm in the back. You thought you were being smart, prepping it early so he wouldn’t have to wait long, but when he didn’t show, your efforts were wasted. One man and woman clad in tuxes entered the place, making your hopes completely drown. “Hello, what would you like?” You say, your voice dull and emotionless. “2 large buckets of chicken legs and a small side of potatoes” The female responded. Your eyes widened, but then the second one spoke up. “And we would also like permission to escort you to your new workplace.” He deadpans. “New workplace?” You ask. The agent look-a-likes don’t respond, only gesture to the door. Removing your uniform apron, you grab your coat and purse and follow them out.

You were intimidated by the large building they had brought you to, but you knew this building all too well. It was Harumi Kurihara’s chef’s school, the one you had been saving up to get in, for years now. “Ma’am, would you like us to walk you in? Or you would go in by yourself and meet up with Mr. Takami.” Your eyes practically bulged out of their sockets when you heard that name. “Hawks?” You chocked, watching as the female went to your side of the car and opened the door for you. “Indeed. We should go, he is waiting” You shuffled out of the car, and into the exquisite structure. “Hey, Bird-Brain!” You call out, treading towards him. “Mean-Lady, what do you think?” You lad into his arms, pressing your lips against him expertly. “Fuck you. I don’t like you because of your money, so don’t spend this much on me.” You grumble. “That was an awfully weird ‘fuck you’, songbird.” Keigo smirks. “And also, I didn’t spend money on you. Harumi and I are close friends.” You scoff, and give him yet another kiss, thanking him properly. “Thanks. But don’t do this again. I’m not the fondest when you flaunt your connections and money.” You deadpan, pecking his lips once more.

“I got other things I can flaunt, don’t worry.” His hands slithered to your rear to hold you up, and then he squeezes your ass suggestively. You suddenly hear the pattering of heels against the white marble tiles, and look over to see Harumi Kurihara herself. You shake, your nerves overtaking you.

“Don’t worry baby. You’ll always be the chick from Chicken Hut I love.”

#hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #pro hero hawks #mha hawks #bnha hawks #boku no hero academia hawks #hawks x female reader #hawks x you #hawks #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x poc!reader #bakugou x reader

68 notes · View notes

the-cult-of-russo · 4 years ago

Text

Push and Pull (part 3)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing

---------

"Run that by me again. Because it sounded an awful lot like you just said the private investigator knows about your alter ego, and I know I must have misheard you," Foggy pleaded. His voice was getting higher with each passing word as his panic took hold. Matt was sitting in his office as Foggy paced the room after he told him about the girl and their encounters. Matt was still stunned himself how easily she pieced it together. He tried to avoid interacting with people as himself if he had as Daredevil, but even when it happened, like with Brett and Karen, people hadn't figured it out. Yet she had.

"You heard me right," he sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"This is bad. This is worse than bad. She knows, Matt. She knows!" Foggy shrieked. Matt wished he had a volume button or something.

"Look, freaking out won't help anyone. I don't know what you want me to do about it, Fog. I already tried threatening her to keep her mouth shut and it backfired," he stated frustratedly. Foggy stilled, head whipping to him. Matt could hear his heart thundering in his chest.

"You threatened her?! What were you thinking, Matt?! You're going to piss off the girl who knows your very deadly and dangerous secret?!" Matt winced at the volume of his voice and also from his own stupidity.

"I didn't think. I just reacted. And she had no issues putting me in my place," he muttered with a bitter tone. It had been impulsive and reckless to threaten her but panic had seized him at the time. All he could think about was Foggy and how he'd go down with him. And Karen too even though she didn't even know. It wasn't so much what would happen to him but how his secret would ruin his friends lives if it got out. He felt hopeless. Like he was falling from a twenty story building at a rapid rate.

Foggy heaved a sigh, pulling his chair out before flopping into it.

"Okay… okay. You need to make nice. We need to get her on our side so she keeps her mouth shut," Foggy mused softly. That had been the issue. The words Daphne had used had been what unsettled him and also what seemed to bother Foggy. What would it serve me? As it stood now, she didn't gain from telling anyone and he knew she was telling the truth. Just like she had when she told him she believed he did good for Hell's Kitchen. But the second it would serve her, if she was in some kind of life or death situation and the only way she would get out of it was exposing him, she would talk. And pissing her off definitely hadn't done him any favours. He didn't need to give her a reason to run her mouth.

"I don't think making nice is going to work," Matt scoffed, remembering her attitude. She hadn't even been scared when he tried to intimidate her. She'd seemed more annoyed than anything.

"Well we need to try. If she's on our side, you can turn on that Murdock charm and she'll realise what a good guy you are. She won't want to talk. You're both working the Italians right now, why don't you team up or something? Work together," Foggy pleaded. It would have been a good plan, letting her in and seeing that telling people would be a bad idea. But he had a feeling that approach wouldn't work with this one

"Team up? And just how do we do that? Did you hear my story? She really doesn't like me and I haven't exactly given her a reason to," Matt bit out feeling the hopelessness eat at him.

"We could invite her here. Talk to her. I can talk to her, the whole best friend thing, you know? Maybe she'll listen to me," Foggy was reaching and they both knew it but this wasn't really a situation they had anticipated.

"No. I'll figure it out. Let's just leave it for now until I can come up with a solid plan," he said firmly. He didn't want Foggy getting involved. As far as she knew, his best friend was unaware of his double life. He knew it wouldn't take much for her to figure it out and that would only land Foggy in hot water. He wanted them far away from each other. Foggy let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head

"Fine. You better come up with something quick then," he muttered, standing and leaving the room. He should have noticed something was off with how easy his best friend agreed to let it go. But his head was too busy to notice.

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

Daphne was on her couch putting a new memory card into her camera. Her laptop was on the coffee table as it uploaded the pictures from the other one. Her purple hair was up in a high pony, dressed in black yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt. She was taking it easy until tonight. Most of her work took place under the cover of darkness. Tonight though wouldn't be anything interesting. Just investigating a cheating spouse which sadly made up most of her work as a PI. Her eyes snapped to her door when frantic impatient knocking filled her apartment. She scrunched her face wondering who was practically knocking her door down. With silent, light footed steps, she crept to the door and peeked through the peephole. What the fuck?

She swung her door open, the shaggy haired lawyer, Foggy, from earlier stood there. He looked like he was about to have a panic attack and it dawned on her that she was right. She knew exactly why he was here.

"Hi! Daphne, right?" He asked, a nervous grin on his face. She quirked a brow looking unimpressed.

"How did you find where I lived?" She asked plainly. His smile turned sheepish then and he rubbed the back of his neck

"Uh… I may have told Brett our firm needed to hire you," he said awkwardly. She rolled her eyes heavenward. Without a word, she stepped aside, gesturing with her head for him to come in. Shutting the door behind her, she sauntered back to the couch and sat down.

Foggy seemed to stand awkwardly for a moment as his eyes flicked around the open plan apartment. Then after looking at her and her cool glare, he shuffled to the armchair and sat down.

"Matt told me that you know. And he also told me he stupidly threatened you, which was totally not okay by the way. But he was panicking and not thinking right. But he's my best friend and I need him and if you told anyone then it's game over for all of us," he blurted, face red and a slight sheen of sweat on his brow. She heaved a sigh, putting her camera back down on the coffee table as she levelled a look at him.

"I told the asshole I had no plans to tell," she stated slowly like he was a child. But he just scrunched up his face and shook his head.

"I know and that's great and all. But what if anything happened? You might not go to the cops or reporters, but what if one of the people you're investigating knows you know something? What if they put pressure on you to tell them?" He was panicked and looked ready to have an aneurism.

"And what? You expect me to just get tortured or lose my life for some dick I've met twice and who's done nothing but give me attitude and pin me to walls?" She snorted mirthlessly. His eyes widened and he shook his head again.

"Pinned you to walls? Dammit, Matt,” he muttered angrily before he rubbed his hands over his face.

She felt slightly bad for the man. He wasn't the one donning a costume and kicking ass at night and it seemed he was dragged into this mess by being Devilboy’s friend. She could see him unraveling.

"Look… I can't promise much but as I said, I don't care enough to go running my mouth. And honestly, I don't know how much Matt told you about me but I'm a stubborn bitch. If the mafia have me, even if I told them what they wanted to know, they'd kill me anyway. I probably wouldn't say shit just out of spite," she said with a rueful smile. He snorted a little, looking only mildly relieved. She was telling the truth though. She wouldn't know until faced with that choice if she would choose to tell or not but she knew no matter what she told them, they'd kill her. They'd kill her for not talking or kill her when she did because she'd no longer be useful to them. She was petty and she'd withhold the information simply to annoy them in her last moments.

Foggy nodded, the movement jerky as he released a shaky breath.

"I guess that helps a little," he murmured.

"It's the best I can do," she said with an apologetic smile. Just because his best friend was an asshole didn't mean he was. She did feel bad for him.

"Matt doesn't know you're here does he?" She asked knowingly after a moment of silence. He looked caught out for a minute and she chuckled.

"I… uh… no. I believe his instructions were to not come and talk to you and to definitely not get involved," he said sheepishly.

"This is what I'm talking about. You're loyal to him. You're his best friend. I don't have that loyalty to him, Foggy. I can't promise anything other than I already have," she explained softly, not wanting him to have a stroke from the stress he seemed to me under.

"What about a partnership? He's working the Italian case too, in his own ‘talking with your fists’ kinda way. You do your thing, he does his. You'll make a great duo!" He pleaded with a smile. She blew out a sigh and pushed some stray hair from her face.

"I doubt that would happen. He hates me and honestly, I'd end up killing him myself having to spend time with him," she muttered with complete honesty. Foggy deflated a bit and she felt bad for him. But there wasn't much she could do at all about the whole thing. Honestly she wished she hadn't stumbled across the truth about Daredevil’s identity. It was proving far too much trouble than it was worth.

"Look, I'll do my best even under dire circumstances to keep my mouth shut. But I'm doing it because I feel bad for you and not for your asshole best friend," she stated. Foggy grinned at her looking relieved right away. They both knew it was the best she could do. Not when she had no loyalty to Devilboy.

"Thank you," Foggy breathed, giving her a grateful nod. She stood up and he followed suit, the pair walking to her front door.

"I'm sorry for bothering you. I was just…" he trailed off, frowning.

"Don't worry about it. You're a good friend, Foggy," she said sincerely. It made his face light up. How did he even get tangled with the Devil of Hell's Kitchen?

"I'm glad someone notices," he snorted, "and honestly, I don't know what Matt was talking about. You seem pretty nice to me," he grinned. She gave him a mock glare as she pushed him through her open door.

"Keep your mouth shut, I have a reputation to uphold," she smirked. He chuckled and nodded. The pair shared their goodbyes before she shut the door. He was certainly a character.

She had no idea how an asshole like Matt Murdock ended up with such a kind and loyal friend. She couldn't help the pang of envy. She didn't really have any friends of her own. She just never bothered to meet people or to form attachments other than the ones she already had with her family. She rolled her eyes at her own envy before plonking back on the sofa. It was time to chill out until it went dark, then her snooping could begin.

#matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock #matt murdock x oc #daredevil x oc #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil

16 notes · View notes

wefoundloveunderthelight · 4 years ago

Photo

Wonderland by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Or on FF

Tagging: @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @teamhook

Note: This could have a trigger affect regarding suicide. If you or anyone you know needs help, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline1-800-273-TALK (8255) or text TALK to 741741 for 24/7, anonymous, free counseling.

Note: This chapter was inspired by the song Understanding in a Car Crash by Thursday

Chapter 5: Understanding in a Car Crash

It’s not that Killian was not looking forward to his therapy session, in fact, that would be an understatement, but he had woken up in such a foul mood that he didn’t even want to leave his room.

“You know it’s just like detox. You’re on day 5. Reality is setting in.”

He looked over at August staring at him. “I already have a therapy session with Hopper today; I don’t need you psychoanalyzing me as well.

“Sorry, just offering some reassurance.” The man threw his hands in the air in surrender and Killian decided it would be just as bad to stay here as it would be to face Dr. Hopper’s questions.

Stepping into the courtyard he watched as Ruby left Hopper’s office. He strolled toward the tall brunette, grinning when he noticed her immediate recognition of him. She smiled and strutted in his direction.

“Hey there handsome.” She flirted.

“How was your session?”

She pursed her lips and shrugged. “Eh, I talk more than I should, so I think he’s happy when I leave.”

Killian chuckled. “Got any tips for me?”

“If you want him to change the subject, talk about sex.” She giggled and ran her hand along the buttons of his jacket, fondling them with her long fingers.

“Not sure that tactic would work for me.”

“Well, if you ever need help working on that tactic, you could always practice on me.” She pressed her hand into his jacket against his chest. “Maybe after dinner tonight?”

“Tonight huh? Let me see how this session goes, I’ll think about it.”

“Ok don’t think about it too long, I happen to know that they close off the back side of the island after 5pm so, if you’re interested in exploring…” Her hands roamed toward the waist band of his jeans. “Just let me know.”

“Will do, lass.”

“Good luck.” She purred, swinging her hips as she walked away.

He pushed open the door to Hopper’s office and stepped inside. “Afternoon Killian.”

“Same day, Same Island.” He joked and settled into the couch.

“Today I want to talk more about Milah.”

“Wow right for the balls.” He grumbled.

“Why would you think that? I’m interested in what your relationship was like with your fiancé Milah. Where did you two meet?”

“Hi, I’m Milah, I’m pretty sure I’m your biggest fan.”

“Hi Milah, I’m Killian. Thanks for coming to the show tonight.”

“We uh, we met at one of my shows. She was a fan of the band.”

“When did it move from fan to dating?”

“It was pretty quick. We went out that night, it was a whirlwind courting. At least that’s what Robin says about it.”

“Did Robin like Milah?”

He laughed. “Hell no. Robin called her a gold digger.”

“Did that cause an issue with the band?”

“Rob’s a good guy. He didn’t like her but he’s my mate, so he didn’t push things, no one else would dare bring it up.”

“When did you get engaged?

“About 8 months after we started dating. I had just started filming the sequel for Neverland.”

“When was the wedding taking place.”

Killian tensed. “Um, it was going to be right after the sequel came out, but we uh, we postponed it.”

“Oh, and why was that?”

“There was a lot going on. I uh.” He stared out the window. “Milah and I were fighting a lot during filming.”

“Was Milah accepting of your lifestyle? The drugs?”

“Um yeah, she didn’t have any issues with it.”

“Did she participate?”

“You mean did I do drugs with my fiancé?”

“If that’s how you want me to ask it, yes.”

“Yes, Rob was against the drugs, its part of the reason he disliked Milah so much.”

“Was she high the night of the accident?”

Killian rubbed his palms on his jeans. “No, she wasn’t doing drugs because of the baby.”

“How far along was she?”

“Six months. Doctor said the baby was the size of a mango, so I had just started calling her mango, you know at nights. I always thought it was funny they compared a babe to fruit.”

“But you were still using, while she was pregnant?”

He stared out the window. “Uh yeah. Like I said, there was a lot going on with the baby, I was away a lot because of filming, and when she was with me on set, I felt like she wasn’t really there for me.”

“Were you using the night of the accident?”

“I wasn’t high. I’d had a few drinks, that’s all.”

“Can you remember how many?”

“No, like I said, it was a few.”

“The accident report doesn’t mention driving under the influence, just that rain was a factor.”

“I was bleeding out when they got there, they rushed me into surgery, guess I got lucky I was in shock, so they didn’t think to test.”

“Do you remember the accident?”

Killian glanced at the ceiling. “I uh, not really.”

“Let me the hell out of this car.”

“So, you can run back to him?”

“I want out.”

“Don’t you fucking open that door.”

“Killian, look out.”

“What do you remember?”

“Um, it was raining. I guess I hit a truck. Totaled my car. I remember the ambulance coming.” His voice trailed off, his squeezed his eyes shut.

“The report said that Milah died on contact. Did you know before you went to the hospital?”

He felt a stray tear roll down his cheek. “I…I don’t know. I um, I guess I was in shock. They made me let go of her.”

“Were you aware of your own injury?”

“No.”

“How does it make you feel, knowing what happened that night?”

“How the fuck do you think it makes me feel? Why would you even ask that? It felt like shit! Is that what you want to hear? It was the worst day of my damned life and no matter what I do, no matter how long I spend on this island, none of that is going to make it right. Nothing can fix the fact that I killed her. I killed them both.”

He buried his face in his palm, sobbing.

“Killian, I think it’s important to note that even though nothing you do will ever bring back Milah or the baby, it is important to remember that you didn’t die that night with them. You are still here. Only you can decide how to move forward.”

“And if I don’t want to move forward? Then what Doc? Because I’m good where I am.”

“You’re not really trying to tell me that you’re happy like this?”

“Happy? I don’t bloody deserve happy.”

“Killian, giving in to one’s dark side never accomplishes anything.”

“It’s the only part of me that I have left. “

“If you can't let go of the past... it's doomed to haunt you.”

Killian glared at the man, wiping at the tears in his eyes. He knew he was right, but he also knew he deserved to be haunted for what he did. He was lucky he didn’t get put away for the rest of his life. One simple error of not testing his blood alcohol before surgery and he escaped punishment from the law.

But you never really escape reality.

“How can I help you? Do you want to tell me your name?”

“I dunno, maybe I shouldn��t have called.”

“I’m here to listen, if you just want to talk.”

“…It should have been me.”

“What should have been you?”

“I should have died, not her.”

“Do you have a family member you can talk to?”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone. I just want the pain to end.”

“Have you thought about hurting yourself?”

“I…uh…yes. I have a gun.”

“Can we stop for today?” Killian pleaded with the man.

“Absolutely. You did good today.”

Killian smiled softly before leaving him and headed back toward his room. He had not expected to go into such detail in therapy. He was both pleasantly surprised and mildly annoyed that the therapist was so good at digging information from people who didn’t want to share any.

He lazily wondered if the blonde lass had lifted any of her burden with the man and then immediately chided himself for giving a damn about a woman who clearly wanted nothing to do with him, regardless of what the kiss under the pier meant.

He stumbled into the dining hall, his roommate waving him toward a table.

“You eat yet?”

“No, just left Hopper’s.”

“Awesome, we just sat down, grab some food.”

He turned toward the dining line when Will yelled to him. “Don’t eat whatever it is she’s calling the daily special.” He turned away from him and then yelled again. “And don’t get #4 either.”

“Aye, no daily Special, avoid #4.” He continued to mutter the words over and over to himself as he approached the crazy red haired fitness instructor.

“Well, hello there Killian, can I suggest the daily special?”

“Well, lass, that depends on what makes it special?” He joked.

“Quinoa.” She beamed.

“Keen what?”

“It’s a grain that’s very high in fiber, protein, and gluten free.”

“I’ll stick to the things I know. #5 please.”

“Oh, fine but come back when you decide to stop listening to your friends and want to try something healthier.” She turned to her left. “What can I get you Emma?”

He froze before peering to his left at the girl standing beside him, the one who was currently avoiding his gaze.

“Might I suggest the Quinoa?” He offered with a wink toward Zelena.

Her eyes narrowed but she did not look at him. “I’ll have the Grilled cheese please. With onion rings.”

“None of that is healthy. I hope you know that. You’ll need to do an extra spin class this week just to work that off.”

The girl shrugged. “Worth it.”

When Zelena left to get their food, he turned to face Emma. “Swan, are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you.” She continued to stare straight ahead.

He leaned forward and then stepped in front of her, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t tell me you’re not avoiding me, because I’m actually quite perceptive.” He pointed his finger at her and then back at himself. “And this…this is avoiding me.”

She rolled her eyes and stepped around him, grabbing her food. “I don’t even know you well enough to be avoiding you.”

He leaned in closer to her face, “We could change that.” He breathed against her ear. “Care for another distraction?”

“Give me one good reason not to punch you in the face.”

“And ruin this devilishly handsome face, admit it, you want all of this.”

“If you were the last man on this island, I would still say no.” She growled and he was immediately irritated with his own disappointment.

“If the lady insists.” He grabbed his tray and stepped beside her, walking back to his table, joining Will and August.

“You keep messing with that one and you’re gonna get bit.” August gestured toward Emma.

“Her bark is worse than her bite, gents.” He mused, peering over August’s shoulder to observe the girl. She was currently laughing with Ruby, her head tilted back before he heard a distinct snort.

“I know someone else who seems interested in her bite.” Will pointed his fork in the direction of the door. Killian turned his head to see Jefferson walk into the cafeteria and beeline directly for Emma’s table. He felt his jaw tense as the man sat down next to Emma and nudged her with his shoulder. Emma gave him a bright smile and he groaned and shoved another bite of food into his mouth.

He heard another shrill laugh from the other side of the room, and he grumbled.

“Don’t think that lass has laughed so much since she got here. Gotta give it to the bloke for being able to do that.” Will nodded.

Killian slammed his fork down onto the table and stood from his seat, striding immediately to their table. Emma glanced up as she saw him approaching and he broke eye contact, sitting down next to Ruby.

“Killian.” The dark-haired lass perked up when he reached out and touched her knee. He leaned closer to her, staring into her dark eyes.

“I’m in, love. Meet you at 7?” Her eyes widened and her fingernails traveled from his knee upwards on his thigh under the table. He winked at her and then stood from the table, avoiding the dumbfounded look from Emma, before he turned and walked away, a smirk growing on his face.

He took the long way around the island on his way back to his room, taking in the view on the beach and trying to clear his mind from all the activities of the day. The session with Archie had affected him more than he was willing to admit. He had not spoken of the accident to anyone prior to today.

So much had been written about him in the press after Milah had died. Rumors had swirled about Milah and his co-star being in a torrid affair, though no one was able to confirm any truth to it. Killian had always denied the allegations, thankfully his bastard of a co-star refused to comment.

Killian had known that Milah had an affair with the man, he remembered the day he came home early to the sounds of passion in his bedroom. It had broken his heart, but nothing had prepared him when he found the wallet on the floor and identified the other party that was currently bringing out the moans of passion from his fiancé.

Everyone on set knew the truth, especially after a heated confrontation during a scene where Killian had tossed the asshole overboard. He tried to claim he was simply improvising, but the tension remained with everyone on the crew anytime they had a scene together.

Killian had confronted Milah days later only to have her deny that any such deceit had happened. He punched a hole through their bedroom wall that night. Milah cowering in the bathroom and swearing she had always been faithful to him.

His drinking increased from casual to nightly after the incident. Milah’s pregnancy announcement only causing him to spiral further into his use of drugs as a coping mechanism. She continued to swear there was no one else but him but he knew the timing of her pregnancy meant that it was possible the child was not his.

The papers wrote glowing articles about a man at the top of his celebrity prime who lost his fiancé and his hand in a terrible accident on a dark and rainy road. Fans sent him cards and set up memorials in front of their home. It became too much to bear knowing the truth of that night. Killian couldn’t stand to even look at his own face in the mirror.

“Hey, you wanna head to the gym?” Killian peered up to see his roommate poke his head into the doorway. “Will and I are gonna work out for a bit.”

He looked at his watch and realized if he wanted to get to the other side of the island by 7pm he would need to leave now. “Nah, I’ve got plans.”

His eyebrow lifted. “Plans? Care to share?”

“Nope.”

“Stay out of trouble man, you’ve almost made it a week.”

“Sure thing pop.” He joked and pushed past him.

“It’s your funeral.” He heard the man yell as he left, heading toward the beach. As he crossed through the courtyard his eye was drawn to the couple sitting on the grass under one of the palm trees. Blonde hair blowing in the breeze. He slowed his steps, observing as she sat next to Jefferson, her head dropping back a few times to laugh at something he said. He felt an irrational anger when his hand brushed against her hand, he wore a simple smile but one that clearly showed an affection for the girl.

He turned toward them suddenly, clearly his feet had stopped consulting his brain. He crossed in front of the couple, purposely tripping over Jefferson’s shoes.

“Sorry bout that.” He said dryly. “Didn’t see you there, Mate.”

Two pairs of eyes stared at him. “You expect me to believe that you couldn’t see two people sitting in the middle of the grass?” She quipped.

“Contrary to what you may assume, I’m not always paying attention to your every location, love.”

Her mouth dropped. “I wasn’t, I never, I…”

His eyebrow raised as he waited for her to pull together her thoughts, the smirk growing across his lips. When she stopped puckering like a fish, he interrupted. “Lass, I haven’t the time, if you’ll excuse me, I have places to be.” He winked and then his feet carried him away from the fuming blonde.

His feet hit sand and he made his way quickly to the back of the island, trying to remove the image of Emma with Jefferson. He was infuriated at how light and unencumbered Emma seemed with the man. Someone who he thought was literally quite mad. Why was she able to relax and enjoy Jefferson’s company while being completely hostile towards him?

“You made it.” A voice whispered and then he felt fingers grasp him by the shirt. “I wasn’t sure if you would come.”

“Of course, lass, I said I would, and I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”

She pressed up against him, her lips connecting with his neck. “Enough words.” She whispered, hot against his ear.

“Impatient, are we?” He laughed nervously, closing his eyes, and connecting his lips to hers. He slid across her mouth like silk, their tongues clashing together. He backed her up against the building they were hiding behind and she groaned at the aggressive contact. Her hands traveled down his chest and her felt her fingers tugging at the button of his jeans. Pulling back, he smirked. “Now lass, let’s not rush things.”

Her lips pouted. “Hard to get. I can work with that.”

He grabbed her hand in his and pulled it back to his shoulder, returning his lips to hers. She grinded her hips into him and he groaned into her mouth. He ran his hand down her back, resting along the supple curve of her ass.

She ran a hand over his jeans, his cock reacting to the attention. He cursed his active mind that was currently in direct competition with his body.

“Killian, I love you.”

“Milah, baby.”

He moaned, trying to clear the movie playing in his thoughts. Milah laid out underneath of him, her breasts highlighted by the moonlight in their bedroom, looking up at her from his place between her legs.

He grabbed Ruby around the waist and drug her with him to the sandy floor beneath them, running his fingers beneath her shirt and exploring the crevice under her breast.

He pinched her nipple and she cried out in delight. He pressed his mouth to her stomach, enjoying the pleasurable sounds she was making when the picture changed back to his room again.

“Killian, please touch me.”

His gaze drifted up and he was met with hooded green eyes that were praising his attention. His eyes blew open. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

“What’s wrong?” Ruby’s head lifted from the ground, peering in the dark in search for his eyes.

He returned his lips to her stomach when his thoughts were invaded by blonde hair, head tilted back, mouth open in a breathy moan. “Fuck.” He sat up quickly. Confused and angered by this new turn of events. His thoughts had always drifted to Milah during sexual encounters, he had become used to it, almost welcomed it at times. Ever since the accident, he had been unable to come to completion in any sexual situation without falling apart to the memory of Milah’s face. How could this woman steal away the last thing he had of his Milah?

“You ok?”

“Of course, dear. I just, it’s been a while.” He shrugged. “I supposed I’m a bit rusty.”

“Oh. I’m…”

“It’s not you, love. You are absolutely gorgeous and amazing. I just, perhaps I’m not as ready as my body is willing. This week has been a bit of a challenge.”

She frowned but her expression remained soft and understanding. “It’s ok. No rush, right?”

“Thank you. If you don’t mind keeping this between us, I would greatly appreciate it. Would hate for my reputation to be sullied.” He winked.

“Just promise me that if anything changes, you’ll come find me.”

He smiled and stood, dragging her up with him. “Allow me to escort you home.” He held out his elbow and she wrapped her arm in his. He was thankful she did not engage him in conversation the rest of the way, he was unsure if he would be able to mask the discomfort or confusion that was at war in his mind.

#wonderland #wonderland fic #stacy's fics #My fics #emma x killian #killian jones #emma x hook #emma swan #captainswan #captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fics #captain swan modern au

19 notes · View notes

playdohmichelangelo · 4 years ago

Text

metalocalypse x american dad crossover fic wip from a txt file i found on my desktop [1.2k words]

''Dad, why is there a giant, evil-looking truck in front of our house?''

Stan, sitting in the living room armchair, not looking up from the book he just started, which was titled ''How To Look Up From A Book.'', replied:

''Probably just some of my homeboys from the C.I.A dropping by. I wouldn't worry about it, Steve. O-Oh- and the C.I.A. isn't evil! We're the good guys.''

''It doesn't look like a C.I.A. vehicle, dad! It's like a slow-moving castle, out of heavy metal.'' Steve spoke while nervously fiddling with his fingers. ''It's like it's owned by metalheads!''

Stan looked up from his book, his attention caught. ''Metalheads? You mean those long-haired worshippers of the DEVIL? That's not right...''

''Yeah! Like Haile-''

Stan pushed him aside and looked out the window, eyes squinting. There it was- an ominous chunk of black and red, taking up both sides of the street. It looked like a whole building rather than a vehicle.

''Hmm, looks like a blockage.'' Roger commented while snacking on bacon Tuc crackers and getting crumbs everywhere on the floor.

''You might want to put something on, Roger, I think they're here to visit us!'' cried Steve.

''They are not going to invade my kingdom!'' panicked Stan. ''Not one filthy, booted step on my clean American property!''

He ran outside and Steve followed.

''What's going on?'' came from Hailey, who was behind.

''Hayley, do you know what this is about? Why aren't they leaving? You know, *them*?'' Stan gestured at the vehicle in front of them.

''Oh... Oh my God!'' Hailey gasped. ''We won the Dethklok-family sleepover raffle that I signed us up for!''

''You WHAT?''

''Dad, you know what this means? Dad! They're the biggest death metal band in the. Whole. WORLD!'' She squealed with glee.

''Death... Metal? Deathclock? Well, I can't allow this! They are NOT getting anywhere near us. I forbid it!''

''Dad, dad, it's okay- it's...'' She sighed. ''It's five white guys, dad.'' Hailey whispered to Steve. ''But none of them are straight.''

''...And they're famous?''

''Oooh, wait, I know them!'' Steve exclaimed. ''Hailey listens to some of their tracks sometimes when you're not home, like I Ejaculate Fire and-'' Hailey covered his mouth with both her hands. ''Haha, well, it's, um... It's awful that they're spreading so much steam into the athmosphere with the... Mordcar? Dethcycle! I hate them too, like you, dad! I swear. But they're only going to stay for ONE night! Daddy, please? It's a one-in-a-billion chance! We were picked!''

Stan sighed, deeply. ''Just one night. And then they'll leave. And you'll owe me, Hailey. But how are we going to house 5 people? 5 cavemen with long, filthy hair, at that, schreeching about the Devil and... Uhh... Iron..''

''I guess they assumed the fans who signed up would worry about that.'' Steve answered while eyeing the contrast in size between their house and the vehicle.

The Dethcar/Mordcycle entrance doors slid open with the speed of molasses dripping off a spoon, with thick fog creeping outside dramatically, of course, setting quite the scene. Stan stared in awe.

''Pickle, we amsn't suppossed to smoke weeds today!'' cast the whine of one of the silhouettes at the step.

''Sorry, Toki, I ferget we hed a theng today. Jus' ventilating for a moment.''

''It's okej. But look, we's here!''

''Oh sheet, lemme just discard dat real quick-''

The man with the hair that looked like a red octupus dropped his blunt onto the grass, roughly massaged it with his sneaker, and kicked it under the Dethcar. He looked at Stan and grinned mildly apologetically.

As the guy next to him with the catfish whiskers gently facepalmed, more people came out of the car.

''This is it? SO tame. Talk about *regular* jackoffs. Ugh. We could've gotten the apartment of a crackhead, at least that'd be interesting'' scoffed the man whose face could've had murder written on it. He stepped forward and headed towards the front door, pushing Stan out of the way.

''Hey! Don't you touch me with those.. Eugh, those ogre sausages!'' Stan asserted. ''How are you so ugly?'' he added, with genuine confusion.

''Gee, thanks, you suit. Don't you know who I am?''

''I really don't.''

The man with the Murderface seemed disheartened, just for a moment. ''Duh, I'm William Murderface, songwriter and lead of the second most famous band in the world, aka Dethklok, and also the mastermind behind THE most famous band in the world, Planet P-''

''No, he's not.'' came from the living personification of ''death metal''. He stepped right in front of Stan. They were pretty much of the same height and physique, but something about the stranger made him more intimidating than the plain-faced suburban man we know as Stan.

''I guess we'll be staying here tonight. I'm Nathan Explosion. I don't know why I said that, you already knew. Whatever.'' He shrugged, sighed, and stepped inside like the faces of awe of the winning family meant nothing to him.

Another man, who looked like an elf and also a birch tree, just followed, silently. But he did stop for a moment and seemingly checked out Hailey, squinting his eyes and touching his chin like he was comparing products at a food library. He went inside as well like it was nothing. He and Nathan sat on the couch and watched the TV.

''Hold on...'' spoke Nathan. ''This TV doesn't have The Dethklok Minute. The fuck?''

''Dat's ams strange.'' came from the other man, now even more obviously European. ''Oh wells. I don't haves my guitars with mes. Just puts on whatever.''

Nathan, handling the remote, asked ''You cool with... Damn, they have every season of Grey's Anatomy. Wanna see that?''

The other man shrugged. He casually pulled out some sort of toy and started fidgeting with it to busy his hands. Probably plays a lot of guitar...

Stan was appalled, these people, waltzing in... At least the elf took off his shoes. And there's more... The duo from before, they approached them as well.

''They're getting comfortable like it's a party! Wouldn't expect anything less offensive from lost men such as these.'' Stan pouted. ''You there, young man!'' He pointed at the catfish man, who was in the middle of taking off his shoes after realising the kitchen floor might be slippery. ''Huh? Mes?''

''You seem polite.''

''Thank yous! I'ms Toki, Dethklok's... Supporting guitarist!''

He handed out his hand in the shape of one half of a handshake. Stan hesitated, but he accepted it. The man's grip was a lot firmer than Stan expected. ''So, ums... What rooms ams I sleepings in?'' ''There's a spot under Steve's bed.'' Stan suggested, coldly. ''You thought I'd be nice to you, huh? Well, you thought wrong! You're still an enemy!'' ''Enemies? Buts I just gots here-'' ''No protests, son. Now go to your room.'' ''???'' ''...Steve will lead you there. Steve?''

Steve's head perked up. ''Yes?'' ''I need to deal with this one man with long hair hiding a lot of sin at a time. Toki's sleeping under your bed tonight.'' Toki frowned. ''You're parternings me ups with a kid because you thinks of me as a kid?'' Stan crossed his arms. ''Yes.'' Toki cursed under his breath. ''Fines! Let's goes, Steve.'' As he and Steve stepped up, he asked: ''Do yous haves any video gayms?''

''Now, where was I... Wait, where's triangle-hair guy?

[didn’t write past this lol]

#apparently i started this on the first of january which is pretty cool #nonner wrote this #american dad #metalocalypse #fanfic #crossover #i wont lie im kind of having a depressive episode right now

20 notes · View notes

nevernotwriting · 4 years ago

Text

You, Me, and Yancy | Chapter 6: A New Partner?

Read me on AO3!

Previous chapter

“Psst, hey, Zero. Stand back!”

A tiny voice that sounded like Mark came out of nowhere, forcing you to open your eyes. It was the middle of the night, so it was pitch black in your cell.

Not for long.

A gigantic crash filled your ears as something impacted the wall. You shielded your eyes from the chunks of brick flying out, coughing as dust filled your mouth. A loud rumbling sound replaced the crash, and when you opened your eyes you were met by a huge red jeep, with none other than Mark, your partner in crime, in the driver’s seat.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Mark was alive, and he came back for you.

Mark shouted to you over his shoulder. “C’mon, we gotta get outta here quickly!”

You vaulted into the open trunk, just managing to grab onto the side before you were tossed around as Mark skidded away from the prison. Alarm bells rang in the distance as you drove away from the place, getting more and more quiet until you were on the open road with only each other and a clear night sky as your company.

“Mark, you came back for me!”

“Of course I did! Why wouldn’t I?” He dared a glance away from the road to shoot you a killer smile.

You managed to climb into the front seat and fasten yourself in. “I dunno, I guess I just… thanks.” You reached out and placed one of your hands over his on the gearstick. He cast you another smile, this one softer but full of adoration.

“Don’t mention it. How’s the wound, by the way?” He asked, turning the car onto an uphill path.

You lifted up your shirt, gasping at what you saw. “It’s… gone.”

Mark whooped in delight. “All right, that must’ve healed real quick!”

After a few seconds Mark stopped the car, and you looked up at your destination.

You were parked up next to the cliffside at the Griffith Observatory. Even in the darkness, the pure white building seemed to shine like a beacon, overlooking the Hollywood hills and countless streetlights and car headlights that shone like pinpricks in the distance. You and Mark hopped out of the car and walked towards the building in silence, stopping at the edge of the balcony overlooking the city.

Mark broke the silence. “Nice view.”

“Yeah.”

“Thought you might say you prefer the one back home,” he laughed.

You turned to him, realising he was already looking at you.

“This feels like home now.” You took one of his hands, heartbeat erratic. “Thanks again, Mark.”

He shook his head modestly, stepping closer to you. “You don’t need to thank me, Zero. I wouldn’t leave you behind.”

“Still using my codename?” You quipped. “And here I thought this might be a date.”

“It can be, if you want it to be,” he shrugged, but his eyes were sparkling brighter than all of the stars above as he broke into an unstoppable grin.

You placed a hand on his cheek, and he looked like he stopped breathing. You leaned in even closer, until your faces were mere inches apart.

“I’d like that,” you whispered, your eyelids fluttering shut as you closed the distance between-

A metallic clatter forced you to open your eyes and sit up. A guard was banging on the bars of your cell, making his way down the corridor.

“Wake up, sleeping beauties!”

You groaned as you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You glanced at the wall next to you; it was intact.

It was just a dream. You were still in prison, alone, but hopefully not for much longer.

You couldn’t stomach breakfast so you made your way into the yard early, hunching yourself into as small a position as possible on a bench. The last few days felt more like five minutes, and your mind was finally catching up with all of the crazy things that had happened. Your eyes filled with tears and you couldn’t stop the sniffle that escaped as you thought about Mark. Neither of you had any idea that those sweet looks he was giving you over breakfast would soon be followed by complete and utter chaos. Even if Yancy did help break you out, what would you do if you couldn’t find Mark? You still had no idea if he even survived that sucker punch. How could you go back to HQ after this, empty-handed and one man down? Shark would surely eat you alive on the spot.

You covered your eyes with your hands, letting tears fill your palms. You heard footsteps approaching you, and felt the weight of another person sitting by your side. You were about to ask them to leave you alone when you heard that very distinct accent.

“Hey, there you are! Listen, the gang an’ I think we got a plan to get yous outta- hey, what’sa matter? What yous cryin’ for?”

You lifted your head up and wiped your eyes, turning to face Yancy. He was looking at you with great concern, one hand poised to reach out and give extra comfort.

“It’s just…” you swallowed the lump in your throat. “It’s been a lot. The past few days I mean.”

Yancy nodded, shuffling closer and rubbing your shoulder. He stayed silent, letting you continue your vent.

“I appreciate you helping me get out of here, but… I don’t even know what I’m gonna do after,” you sighed, biting your lip to stop it trembling. “The Warden has that stupid artefact we worked so hard for, and I don’t even know if Mark’s alive or dead.”

Yancy kept his hold on you, letting you know he was still there. He cleared his throat, hoping to say something to make you feel better.

“Look… you said yous got a family out there, right? Just… try an’ think about them. Figure the rest out along the way.”

You looked up at him again, seeing only sincerity in his eyes. You smiled a little, wiping your eyes once more. Maybe your mind was just projecting your grief, but you couldn’t help but notice that he looked an awful lot like Mark up this close. You also noticed the bruises still littering his face.

“Also… sorry for beating you up.”

Yancy blinked at you and scoffed, shaking his head. “You got nothin’ to be sorry for. I’m the one who should be sorry for misjudgin’ yous. So… I’m sorry.”

You smiled at him again. “Thanks.”

Yancy took his hand from your shoulder, holding it out for you to shake. You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “We already did this yesterday, Yancy.”

Yancy shrugged with a smile. “I’m old-fashioned.”

He nodded towards his hand, so you shook it firmly once more.

“So listen,” Yancy began again, reclining against the back of the bench. You tried not to stare as he flexed his arms behind his head. “The Warden’s not around today, so this plan of ours is gonna have to wait. Think you can stick around another night? Maybe we could… I dunno, get to know each other?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, catching you off guard and making you lose words for a moment. A smirk creeped onto the corner of his lips and you forced yourself to sit up straight.

“All right, sure.”

Yancy turned to face you again. “This artefact you mentioned… that what got yous in here?”

You nodded. “Mark and I... we…” You hesitated, struggling to admit your crimes even to a fellow criminal. “… we stole it. From a museum.”

Yancy burst into laughter, doubling over and eventually regaining his composure. “Jeez, is that it? They lock you up for anythin’ these days.”

You frowned at him. “What d’you mean?”

Yancy pointed to your left. You followed his gesture, seeing a man with floppy hair and silver wristbands walking towards the basketball court.

“See Sparkles McGee over there? Money launderer, credit card fraudster, anythin’ illegal to do with money, you name it, he’s done it.”

Yancy turned your attention to a dark-haired woman sat on her own. “And Tiny? Hoo boy, yous don’t even wanna know what she’s done.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” You asked flatly.

Yancy faltered. “Well… yous gettin’ outta here, ain’t ya? So don’t worry about it!” He laughed, clapping you on the shoulder. You rolled your eyes.

“All right all right, enough of the criminal talk. That guy yous came in with… Mark yous said he was called? He youses boyfriend?”

“No,” you replied a little too defensively. “We… we just work together. He’s the heist expert, I’m the tech monkey. This was my first heist.”

“Huh, so yous like… good with computers and stuff?”

You couldn’t help but smile at the effort he was making. “That’s a simple way of putting it, yeah.”

Yancy seemed intrigued by you, much to your surprise. You figured he’d rather get you gone from here sooner rather than later so he could get back to his gang, but he only grew more interested as you carried on talking, answering all manner of his questions about your work and personal life. You were taken aback, but it was nice to be treated so kindly. You grew very fond of the kind smiles he cast your way as you talked, his gaze never faltering. The only thing that pulled you two out of your shared little world was a guard’s whistle, indicating it was time to head indoors for lunch. You and Yancy stood up from the bench. He cast a glance at the floor, then back at you.

“Listen, I got an idea. It won’t get yous out early, but it might give you some answers. Tonight, meet me out here before the guards call us in for lights out.”

You eyed him, intrigued. “All right. I’ll bite. What’s the catch?”

Yancy looked mildly offended. “No catch. Just another favour… for a friend.”

He walked away and you followed him shortly after, head full of questions once more.

Next chapter

#a heist with markiplier #ahwm #heist mark #heist mark x reader #heist! mark x reader #yancy x reader #ahwm yancy x reader #ahwm yancy #my writing #nevernotwriting

15 notes · View notes

css1992 · 5 years ago

Note

Damn, love your starker content. If you're looking for a prompt or something, I have one I think would be great for this pairing: TeenAU starker where Peter has braces and wants to give Tony a blowjob, even tho he's never done it before. Cue braces getting stuck followed by an embarrassing hospital trip or getting caught by someone. Tx for top tier starker.

First of all, I’m so sorry this took so long, I was having that worst writer’s block, I hope you can forgive me and I hope you’re still out there to read this! T.T Second of all, thank you so much for your kind words, sweetie, you’re too nice

High school AU, explicit, 18+

Word count: 5.7k

Summary: And even though he knew how he felt in his heart, he wasn’t quite ready to say it out loud, wasn’t ready to put it in so many words. He worried it was too soon, maybe Tony would freak out and leave, but still, he wanted to take a step further in their relationship, he wanted to show Tony how much he appreciated him. So he came up with a plan and it involved, well, his mouth. But he’d hesitated for too long and now he had freaking braces and he couldn’t help feeling a little insecure about them.

Warnings: mentions of bullying, mild violence (not explicit), anal fingering, oral sex, brief mention of blood. If you find anything triggering, please let me know!

-x-

“Come on, babe, there’s no way I’m not gonna like it, you’re beautiful, you couldn’t look bad if you tried.” Tony tried to pry Peter’s hands away from his mouth, but the younger teen held them tighter against his face, shaking his head firmly. “Please, for me? Just let me see it, you can’t hide forever, right? Get it over with.” Peter frowned, but then sighed, thinking to himself that Tony was right, there was no way he could hide it much longer anyway. Better rip that band-aid off. He took a deep breath, let his arms fall to his sides and smiled tentatively at his boyfriend. Tony held his face in his hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones softly as he admired the metal wires and brackets on Peter’s teeth and that must have been the most embarrassing moment of his life. “You look so cute right now, you know that, right? I could eat you right up.”

“You mean it?” Peter whispered quietly, afraid that Tony would notice that he sounded funny, too, not yet used to how the braces sat against the roof of his mouth.

“Of course, munchkin.” He pulled Peter close and placed a sweet, warm kiss on his lips and it made the butterflies in his stomach go wild, but it quieted his nervous heart. He pulled away and smiled a little wider, if Tony said it was cute, then maybe –

“What’s wrong with your face, Penis? Looks like you had a fight with a cheese grater and lost.” Of course Flash wouldn’t leave it alone, Peter should have known. He closed his lips tightly and shrank against his locker, dropping his gaze to the floor, only to hear and feel Tony moving away from him and towards Flash.

“Wanna say that again, you little fucker? Come on, I fucking dare you, I’m gonna show you what’s wrong with your face, I’ll break your fucking teeth and no braces will be able to fix your ugly mug ever again, you fucking piece of shit.“ The boy kept pushing at Flash’s chest until he was cowering against the opposite wall and Peter jumped into action, pulling Tony’s arm just as other students started gathering around them in the hall, curious to see what the commotion was all about. Tony had already been suspended for punching Flash in the face not three weeks earlier, Peter couldn’t let him get in trouble again, he knew Tony’s father was… a complicated man.

“Tony, it’s ok, it’s fine, come on, leave it alone.” After a lot of pulling, he was finally able to get his boyfriend off Flash’s face. He didn’t waste any time and scurried away, yelling something over his shoulder that Peter couldn’t quite make out. Tony was fuming, face red, hands closed into fists. The younger teen peppered small kisses on his cheeks and lips to try and calm him down some, and finally the boy seemed to come back to himself. “It’s ok, I’m ok.”

“It’s really not, Pete, that asshole can’t talk to you like that, I swear to God, I’m gonna –“

“Forget about him, come on, he’s gone.” He stole a quick kiss from the older boy, who sighed heavily, burying his hands in Peter’s curls to pull him closer, deepening the kiss.

Peter still shivered and blushed at Tony’s eagerness and boldness. It was all pretty new to him, he’d never had a boyfriend before, just a few short flings. Tony, on the other hand, was – to put it mildly – very experienced. He’d dated pretty much all of the cheerleaders and a few guys on the football team. It was weird for Peter, kissing him in the halls, having Tony walk him to and from classes, sitting at the “cool table” in the cafeteria, having people that he’d never met in his whole entire life gossiping about him.

Peter had heard so many stories about Tony before they got together that when he asked him out, almost four months earlier, he was sure it had to be a prank. There was just no way the Tony Stark could actually be interested in him, so, naturally, he said no. The older boy had looked so confused and shocked as he took a few steps away from Peter, all that famous confidence and cockiness completely gone.

“Oh,” he whispered, sticking his hands in his pockets, looking around the empty classroom he’d pulled Peter into. “I just – I mean, are you seeing someone else?”

“What?” Peter blushed, heart racing and palms sweating. He was so nervous, Tony was known for being a bit of a hothead, he always got into trouble for losing his shit and starting fights, Peter wasn’t sure if maybe he’d get angry because his prank didn’t work. “It’s not – I’m not seeing anyone, I just – I’m –” He stammered, not fully able to complete his sentences. To his surprise, the older boy didn’t get angry, he just ran a hand through his thick, dark hair and smiled in defeat.

“Is it because I got suspended last week? I swear, it wasn’t my fault, that asshole was bullying my friend. Bruce! You know him, right? He’s in the Decathlon team with you, ask him!” His eyes were wide, like maybe he’d found the reason why Peter said no, but then he quickly deflated. “Unless you just don’t wanna go out with me, which is fine, I mean, you don’t have to like me, I just thought – well, doesn’t matter.”

“Look, I know this is a prank.” Peter frowned, and Tony’s eyebrows shot into his hairline.

“Excuse me?” The older boy looked at him like he’d grown a second head, and Peter thought maybe he’d pissed him off for good. “What, you think I’m some mean girl in a teen movie or something?”

“I just – why would you even ask me out, honestly? You don’t even know me and you’re always making fun of the Decathlon team and the school band – both of which I’m a part of, in case you don’t know.” Peter had noticed Tony was always at the Decathlon competitions and band practice, and he was always laughing and whispering with his friends, and Peter could swear that he sometimes caught him looking directly at him before whispering something to James Rhodes.

“Ok, first of all, I don’t make fun of the team or the band, I just make fun of Bruce, but that’s because he’s my best friend and we like to mess with each other, I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry. And yeah, I don’t really know you, but I’d like to, that’s exactly why I’m asking you out. You’re smart, talented, and it doesn’t hurt that you’re easy on the eyes, to be honest.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. Peter felt his face burning and dropped his gaze to the floor. “There’s no evil plan, I just think you’re cute, is all.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth? That you’re not messing with me?” He whispered, looking at him from under his eyelashes and, again, the older teen just shrugged.

“I guess you’ll just have to trust me, shortcake.”

And Peter did. For whatever stupid reason, he did. He didn’t really know Tony, just knew about him – knew that he was a certified genius, but also a troublemaker. He knew he was filthy rich, but he didn’t hang out with other rich kids, like Flash and Osborn, he was best friends with Rhodes, Pepper and Bruce, who, like Peter, didn’t come from money. He knew he was really popular and he dated around a lot, but he wasn’t an asshole about it – not that Peter knew, at least. He didn’t kiss and tell, he never slut-shamed anyone or leaked nudes of his exes, which was more than Peter could say about most guys in school.

So he gave it a shot, said yes and they went out for burgers. Tony was nice, funny and smart – but he was also sarcastic, short-tempered and a little arrogant. Peter wasn’t really sure how he felt about him after the date was over, but when he went to bed that night, he couldn’t stop thinking about him, about his lips – couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss he’d dodged in his car when he dropped him home. Still, the older boy had smiled and kissed his cheek instead.

The next day, Peter was standing by his locker in between classes, talking to Ned and MJ about the movie marathon they were planning for the weekend, when he noticed the older boy approaching. Peter wasn’t sure if Tony would talk to him in front of the whole school, he had a reputation to keep and Peter was kind of a nerd, but not only did he talk to him, he also kissed his cheek as he greeted him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey, I’m Tony,” he introduced himself to a very flustered Ned and an unimpressed and suspicious-looking MJ. The former just waved dumbly and made a weird sound at the back of his throat and the latter just nodded at him, acknowledging his presence. Tony didn’t seem to mind the weird interaction, just turned back to Peter and smiled. “Wanna grab lunch together today?”

And that was probably the very moment Peter started falling for him. Slowly, but surely. He insisted on carrying his books, walking him to class, sitting with him at lunch, he even drove him home most days, even though his house was nowhere near Queens. He was a bit of a hothead, yes, and he sure as hell was trouble – and May could smell it from a mile away when Peter introduced him – but he was also the kindest, sweetest, most amazing person Peter had ever met and he wished Tony would let other people see that.

Peter loved him. At least he thought he did, he’d never been in love before, but he missed Tony like crazy whenever they were apart for more than five seconds; he cared if he ate properly and regularly; he worried about his health and safety all the time; he always thought about him whenever he watched rom-coms with May on movie nights; his heart fluttered whenever he was around and, more importantly, he just wanted to be with him, take care of him. All the time. If that wasn’t love, what else could it be?

And even though he knew how he felt in his heart, he wasn’t quite ready to say it out loud, wasn’t ready to put it in so many words. He worried it was too soon, maybe Tony would freak out and leave, but still, he wanted to take a step further in their relationship, he wanted to show Tony how much he appreciated him. So he came up with a plan and it involved, well, his mouth. But he’d hesitated for too long and now he had freaking braces and he couldn’t help feeling a little insecure about them.

But then Tony looked at him with those beautiful, soft brown eyes, smiled at him and stroked his cheek with such devotion, and all his insecurities melted away and he just wanted Tony to know how much he loved him.

“Hey, about this Friday,” he started, pulling away from the kiss. He was still self-conscious about how he sounded because of the braces, but Tony didn’t seem to notice anything different, at least he didn’t mention it.

“What about it, short stuff?” He smiled sweetly, wrapping his arms around Peter’s waist, pulling him closer. He placed small kisses on his jaw and chin and the younger teen giggled, pushing him away without any force. Peter always refrained from pointing out that Tony was only a few inches taller than him – the older teen seemed so happy he found someone shorter than him to mess with, Peter let him have his fun.

“So, you know how my aunt is dating this guy from work?” Tony frowned, a little confused, but Peter just kept looking at him expectantly.

“Yeah?”

“She told me yesterday that she’s going to spend the night at his place on Friday.” He tried to give his boyfriend a sexy smile, but then remembered that the braces would probably make it look silly, so he closed his lips quickly. Still, Tony looked very excited and interested when he realized what Peter meant.

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow, a lopsided grin of his own taking over his face.

“Yeah, so I thought – maybe we could order some pizza and you could, uhm, spend the night?” He dropped his gaze to somewhere around Tony’s chest, brushing off imaginary dust from his shirt, as his face grew hot, when he felt the older teen’s finger under his chin, forcing him to look up at him.

“Pete… Are you sure?” He asked him firmly, serious, looking for a truthful answer, and Peter nodded.

“Just – uh, I’m not sure if I’m ready to go… all the way,” he whispered quietly, “but like – you know.” He blushed bright red, but Tony didn’t let him avert his gaze. He smiled and placed a chaste kiss on his lips.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything. I’m actually a great cuddler, did you know that?”

“Silly.” Peter laughed, slapping him on the chest, feeling a little less nervous. “So, is that a yes?”

“That’s a hell yes, baby face.”

For the rest of the week, Peter couldn’t think of anything else. MJ stopped listening to him by Wednesday and just rolled her eyes whenever Peter mentioned anything Friday-related, but Ned was just as invested on the date as Peter was. He helped him pick an outfit, the perfect movie and even the pizza place they’d order from. He went as far as to send him articles about how to give good blowjobs and handjobs and Peter had to draw the line there – although he did read the articles and made some research of his own.

So on Friday, Peter waved May off, promised to be good – which she didn’t believe much – and hurried to make sure everything was perfect. His bed was made, his sheets were freshly clean and smelled like fabric softener, and there were so many pillows on the couch he wasn’t sure where they were supposed to sit, but oh, well.

He dressed casual, but Ned said he looked hot when he tried the outfit on earlier that week. He hoped he did. He wore gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt that was a little tight over his chest – he didn’t have a broad, strong chest, but it looked ok. He fluffed his hair – Tony loved his curls – and tried not to give a lot of thought to the braces in his mouth, he still wasn’t comfortable with how he looked with them, but Tony always made sure to let him know he thought he still looked beautiful, so. There was that.

So when the bell rang, he took a deep breath, gave himself a little pep talk and opened the door. Tony was leaning against the doorway, looking sinfully sexy in black, ripped jeans and a leather jacket. He smiled at Peter and pulled him in for a kiss, and if the younger teen was already breathless just from looking at his boyfriend, that kiss almost sent him over.

“Hey, peanut. You look gorgeous.” He gave him a once over, as he put some distance between them, and Peter blushed slightly, slapping his chest.

“Come on in.” He opened the door further and Tony stepped inside, quickly getting rid of his jacket and shoes, probably remembering that last time he was there aunt May almost bit his head off when he tried to walk into her living room in his combat boots.

“So, your aunt isn’t home?” He wondered out loud, taking a look around the apartment as if expecting aunt May to just jump from behind the furniture or something. It was funny, Tony was always on edge when she was around, trying to be a good boy, but she saw right through him.

“No, don’t worry, the coast is clear.” The younger teen smiled, sitting on the couch. The older boy quickly followed with a wicked grin, sitting close beside him, placing an arm around his shoulders. Peter chewed his lips and turned on the TV, feeling his heart race in anticipation. “Do you want to pick the movie?”

“No, I’m fine with whatever you wanna watch.” Tony kissed the ball of his shoulder, slowly peppering kisses along his collarbone. Peter’s breath hitched and he knew the blush was surely going all the all way from his cheeks down to his chest.

“Uhm, are you hungry yet? I thought we could order some pizza.” He turned slightly to the side, noticing that Tony didn’t seem very interested in anything else besides ravishing the skin of his neck. “Tony,” he sighed.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, moving away a little to look Peter in the eye. The younger teen turned to look back at him, nodding slowly.

Tony smiled and closed the distance between them, pulling him by the neck to kiss him deeply, slowly. Time stopped right then and there, the room was silent, the sound of their lips moving together the only thing he could hear, the burning touch of Tony’s hands on his skin the only thing he could feel.

Funny thing was, no matter how nervous he’d been up until that moment, the second their lips touched, he felt safe, wanted, loved. He knew Tony wouldn’t do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, so he let himself go, melting into his arms like like it was the safest place in the world.

He felt the older teen wrap his arms around his waist, pulling him softly, and gave in, climbing into his lap to straddle his thighs. Tony grunted when he felt Peter’s ass press down onto his jeans-clad erection and bucked his hips up, hands sliding from his waist to his lower back to pull him even closer. Peter’s heated skin shivered as their chests touched and Tony bit his lower lip, before pulling him into a messy, wet kiss. The younger boy rocked his hips eagerly, whimpering against Tony’s bitten lips as he felt his own rock-hard cock rubbing against the older teen’s taut stomach, eyes rolling back in pleasure.

Tony’s fingers ventured under his shirt, short nails scratching across the skin of his arched back, before lifting it slowly, as if asking for permission. It wouldn’t be a first, they hadn’t done much, but they’d had a few heavy make out sessions that usually ended with both of them shirtless – but not much more than that. Peter just raised his arms and let Tony take his shirt off, baring his chest, then went right back to kissing his neck, as the older teen moaned and rutted against his ass, his cock was so hard Peter could swear he could feel it pressing against his hole, begging for entrance, even through the many layers of clothing.

“Are you doing okay there, Pete?” Tony breathed into his mouth and the other boy shivered and nodded quickly, biting Tony’s chin and burying his fingers in his hair. The older teen’s teeth and tongue slowly made their way down his throat and towards his collarbone as Peter threw his head back, closing his eyes to concentrate on the feeling of his fingers squeezing the soft flesh where his hips met his ass. “I wanna try something. You trust me?” He placed soft kisses on his chest, then his tongue found one of Peter’s perked-up, sensitive nipples and he gasped, nodding frantically. “Good.”

His hands slid lower to Peter’s ass and he squeezed roughly, kneading his cheeks as he mouthed at his nipples, alternating sloppy, wet kisses with sharp, gentle nibbles, which drove the younger teen mad with want and turned the small nubs an angry red. It almost distracted him from the fact the Tony’s hands were now making their way down the back of his pants and underwear, skin to skin, the rough pads of Tony’s fingers scratching his soft flesh.

Okay, that’s new, Peter thought, and he liked it. He closed his eyes and bit his lower lip, as Tony sucked bruises on his collarbones, his fingers slowly making their way to Peter’s crack, until one of them pressed directly against his rim, touching it, but nothing else, and his breath hitched. He pulled away a little, looking down at the other teen’s face.

“Tony, I’m – I don’t think I’m –“

“Don’t worry, it’s okay, I know you’re not ready. I just wanna make you feel good, ok? Promise.” He kissed Peter’s chin softly, which made the younger boy sigh, eyes fluttering closed, as he nodded his head. “Let me know if you want me to stop, ok? Anytime you need to stop, just say the word.” Tony whispered against his pulse point and, again, Peter nodded, and then he felt the finger pressed against his hole start to move slowly, just rubbing circles against the puckered skin and Peter was so confused, because it felt fucking amazing. And dirty. And wrong. And right.

He felt Tony moving underneath him and he knew he wasn’t just rutting against him – which he was, too. He saw him take something out of his back pocket with his other hand, then the pressure against his hole disappeared, and Peter whined loudly in complaint, then blushed furiously in embarrassment. Tony smirked at him, licking his lips.

“Patience, padawan.” He placed a kiss on his chin, then Peter heard him uncap something and when he looked down, he noticed Tony was holding a tube of lube. His fingers tightened on Tony’s shoulders and the older teen looked up at him. “Hey, what did I say? Do you want to stop?” Peter shook his head quickly, holding Tony’s face in his hands.

“I trust you,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss him, and as soon as their mouths made contact, he relaxed again.

Tony held him close, deepening the kiss, and for a few minutes, that’s all they did. Peter rutted slowly against Tony’s stomach and the older teen rolled his hips in time with him, as they kissed and kissed like time meant nothing – and it didn’t. It really didn’t.

At some point, he felt the other teen’s hands sliding again down the back of his pants, he could feel his fingers were wet and colder than a few minutes earlier and he braced himself for what he knew was about to come. At first, Tony just rested a digit against his hole, rubbing it gently, not applying any pressure, and once the younger teen relaxed completely, muscles going lax, he felt one finger try to breach him.

“Umf, Tony,” he whimpered, and he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, why he was calling his name, he just wanted to say it. The older teen shushed him, warm, wet lips pulled his earlobe into his mouth, nibbling lightly as his finger sunk in deeper and deeper into Peter. “Oh, fuck.”

Peter had fingered himself before, but it was so fucking different from having someone else – Tony – do it to him. It felt so dirty and intimate, like Tony had all this power over him, like there was nowhere he couldn’t touch, nothing he couldn’t do, like Peter’s body belonged to him. It felt exhilarating and scary and fucking awesome and hot – so fucking hot.

Peter gasped when Tony’s finger was completely sheathed and curled inside him. It burned a little and he felt impossibly stretched, but so good at the same time, a delicious kind of pain irradiated from his lower back all the way up to the back of his neck, where his hair stood on end. He closed his eyes and pushed his hips back against Tony’s hand, silently begging for him to move. The older teen didn’t waste any time, as his finger slid out slowly, then slid back inside a little quicker and surer than before, sending shivers down Peter’s spine.

The boy started rolling his hips in time with Tony’s movements, literally fucking himself on his finger, making sure to rub his leaking cock against the older teen’s stomach and his ass on Tony’s impossibly hard cock, until he felt his finger touching someplace in him that sent him to heaven and back in a matter of seconds.

“Oh, fuck, Tony, fuck.” He wrapped his arms around the older teen’s neck and clung to him like a drowning man, soft moans and whines leaving his lips unsolicited as the finger moved and moved and pushed against that bundle of nerves so deliciously, and Peter’s cock was so hard and pressed so tight against Tony’s abs and Peter really wanted to hold out, he needed to, didn’t want it to be over so soon, but fuck –

He came with a cry, nails leaving angry red marks on Tony’s neck as the older teen pulled him into a rough, hungry kiss, biting his lips and licking his mouth like the world was about to end. Peter let him, let him take control of his body and ownership of his mouth as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, thinking that there was no way he could ever feel so good ever again in his whole entire life.

He sagged against Tony’s body when he was done, completely spent, and felt him wrapping his arms around him tightly, like Peter was gonna fly away – and maybe he would, who knew – as he peppered small kisses down the side of his face and slowly withdrew his finger, leaving the younger teen painfully empty.

“Tonight was supposed to be all about you, I had a plan,” Peter mumbled after a few silent minutes, pulling away a few inches to look into Tony’s glinting eyes. The older boy grinned, holding his face in one hand to pull him into a kiss.

“Well, I had plans of my own. I guess great minds think alike.” He butted his nose against Peter’s lovingly and the younger teen smiled.

“I guess,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss Tony again. A little roll of his hips revealed that Tony was still rock-hard and Peter took a deep breath, before pulling away, getting off his lap. Before the older teen could ask what he was doing, he was on his knees, between his spread legs, and Tony reached out to hold him by the shoulders.

“Hey, hey, hey – you don’t – you know you don’t –“

“I know.” Peter smiled again, unbuttoning his jeans carefully. He tried to remain calm so his fingers wouldn’t shake so much and Tony wouldn’t notice how nervous he was.

“Pete,” he tried, but before any more words could leave his lips, his hard cock sprung free from his jeans, which caught Peter by surprise. First, because he didn’t expect Tony not to be wearing any underwear; and second, because – fuck – he knew Tony would be big, he’d cupped him through his jeans many times before, but still – “Fuck.”

Peter took a deep breath, trying to remember everything he’d read online over the week. He closed his eyes and placed tentative kisses on the tip of his cock and down his shaft, and he heard Tony cuss under his breath, melting into the couch. It made Peter a little more confident, so he took the tip into his mouth, surprised when he felt his cock growing even bigger and heavier against his tongue, as Tony moaned loudly, hands gripping the pillows around him.

Peter hollowed his cheeks and started sucking, trying to take a little bit more of his cock into his mouth, slowly. When he was reading about blowjobs, he was afraid he wouldn’t like it, or that maybe he would gag in the middle of it, but it was actually making him hard again, seeing and feeling how turned on Tony was by his mouth on him.

He placed a hand on his heavy, tight balls, fondling them carefully, as he tried to take more of his cock into his mouth. He could almost feel the tip reaching the back of his throat, but before it did, he started pulling back, which it was enough to make Tony moan and thrash underneath him. He smiled, lips stretched wide around the other teen’s thick cock, then decided to try and take him in a little further. It was all going perfectly fine when suddenly he felt like he couldn’t keep going, like something had stuck –

“Aw, fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Peter was so shocked by the sheer desperation in Tony’s voice that he immediately tried to pull away, but Tony’s hands flew to his head, holding him in place. “No, no, no, no, no! Fuck, Pete, it’s – ah, fuck, God, it fucking –“ that was when Peter realized what was happening.

“Umf,” he was mortified, he could feel tears burning behind his eyelids as he shut his eyes tightly, not sure what to do once he realized Tony’s foreskin was stuck in his braces and it must hurt like a motherfucker, because Tony had gone soft almost immediately, as he panted and gasped for air, hands holding Peter’s head firmly in place, terrified that he’d try to move away.

“Hold on, hold on – lemme just –” he could barely finish his sentences, completely out of breath, and Peter’s face was wet with tears at that point, and he was also a little breathless. He felt Tony’s fingers in his mouth, trying the free himself carefully, but Peter could taste blood on his tongue and fuck if it wasn’t the worst night of his whole entire life. “Ah! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Finally, he felt Tony pushing his head away as he fell sideways to the couch, both hands covering his dick as he buried his face in the cushions, trying to stifle his cries.

“Oh, my God, Tony, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry!” Peter didn’t really know what to do, he didn’t even know if he should try to touch his boyfriend, he looked like he was in so much pain maybe he wouldn’t want him to, so he he sat there on the floor, frantically trying to think of what to say. “I swear I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry!”

“I know, baby, I know, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” but the way Tony was breathlessly whispering that into the cushions made it very clear that it was not okay.

“Jesus, Tony, what – I don’t know what to do!” He cried, panicked, and the older teen took a deep breath, raising his face a little to look at Peter, and his face was so fucking red and his eyes were shining with unshed tears.

“Ice, babe. Get me some ice, it’s gonna be fine, I promise, ok?” He was breathing a little easier by then and Peter nodded frantically, as he got to his feet and hurried to the kitchen to get an ice pack. He hurried back in record time and Tony turned on his back, taking the pack and quickly placing it on his lap, letting out a heavy sigh as he did. “Tony, should I take you to the hospital?” He asked, standing by the couch and looking down at his boyfriend, who winced.

“No, it’s fine,” he sighed with his eyes closed, but it didn’t calm Peter down, not even a little bit.

“Tony, I tasted blood!” He cried, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, and Tony reached one hand out for him to take.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s just a tiny cut, I promise. It’s just really sensitive right now, but it’s gonna be fine in a couple of minutes, I promise.” Peter didn’t want to take his hand, he wanted to run and hide, but he also didn’t want to be alone, or away from Tony, so he lay by his side, burying his face in his neck and clutching his shirt.

“I’m so sorry, Tony, this wasn’t supposed to happen, I should have known, I shouldn’t –“

“Peter, it’s fine, I promise.” They were silent for a few seconds, until Peter felt Tony’s chest trembling under his cheek. He looked up, worried that his boyfriend was crying, but he was laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes – again. “Oh, my God, I can’t believe this just happened,” he laughed harder, rubbing a hand over his face.

“It’s not funny.” Peter was so embarrassed, he wished he could bury his head in the dirt and never have to look at his boyfriend again.

“It is a little funny,” Tony managed to say as he laughed his ass off and Peter tried to get up, annoyed, but the older teen held him. “Hey, what’s the matter?” He frowned, a little confused, as he tried to stifle his laugh.

“I wanted to make you feel good, I wanted tonight to be special, and I blew it, all because of these stupid, ugly braces, I don’t even know why you’re still here after this catastrophic disaster!” He knew he was being a little dramatic and maybe he was overreacting, but he just really wanted the night to go well, and it was ruined.

“Hey, c’mon, we did have a good time. Tonight was special, is special. We’re gonna order a huge pizza, we’re gonna binge watch all Marvel movies, and if it makes you feel any better, you can kiss my pee-pee better before we go to bed, what do you say?” He smiled that stupid, beautiful smile of him; soft, brown eyes glinting with mirth.

Peter stared at Tony’s face, thinking about the absurdness of that night, thinking that what was supposed to be a hot date night ended with Tony holding an ice pack to his bleeding dick, trying to comfort Peter for basically almost biting it off. He was silent for a few seconds, contemplating all that madness, before he exploded into a fit of giggles.

“God, I love you,” he blurted out breathlessly, almost without thinking, but as soon as the words left his mouth, his face turned red and his eyes widened, panicking. Before he could take it back, though, Tony smiled softly and winked at him, placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

“I know. I love you, too, brace face.”

#starker #ironspider #peter parker x tony stark #highschool au

161 notes · View notes

wendip-week · 5 years ago

Text

What If: Love Potion

The annual Gravity Falls musical-event known as Woodstick had finally come. Tourists, young-and-old (but mostly young), repressed and/or rebellious, would flock to the Oregon town that wasn’t on any map to witness an all day-and-night concert of indie-bands in a hippie-themed get-together. One such band was led by the odd singer and aspiring matchmaker, Love God, who was busy spreading the love as he blew into town.

As Mabel Pines had discovered, the Cupid-motif wasn’t for show; he was a real-life cherub with a specially-made love-potion for greasing the wheels on promising-matches. Ignoring his warning that such a substance isn’t to be used by reckless pre-teens, Mabel Pines stole (or traded, if she were asked) his pink, powdery potion to salvage her attempt to hook up the recently-heartbroken Robbie Valentino and Wendy’s best friend Tambry, whose obsession with her phone seemed to interfere with her social-life in general.

Now it seemed that those two’s problems, and the ones they indirectly caused for the teen-gang they were part of, were over and done with. They were suddenly head-over-heels and apparently had no problems making a public show of their affection. Needless to say, Mabel was pleased with herself.

Not too long after the new couple stepped out of Greasy’s Diner, another familiar boy and girl appeared. The teenage-girl was sporting a hippie-ish look of short-shorts, a fuzzy crop-top, a bandana, and a headband. The preteen boy, on the other hand, was sporting a sleeveless jacket over a v-neck shirt (which Mabel thought was not a good look for him), with a pair of sunglasses. They were Dipper Pines and Wendy Corduroy, Mabel’s brother and friend, respectively. Mabel was still hiding behind the counter as the two approached.

“Hey, Susan,” Wendy greeted one of the diner’s senior-waitresses.

“Well hello, Wendy!” replied Lazy Susan, the waitress with the paralyzed eyelid. “My, don’t you two look snazzy!”

“Thanks,” said Dipper. “We’re going to Woodstick later.”

“How nice! So, what can I get you?”

“Can we get two large shakes to go, please?” Wendy asked. “Usual for us.”

“A chocolate-strawberry and a chocolate peanut-butter. Coming right up.” Susan headed towards the kitchen, ignoring one of the waitresses making out with a male-customer on the other side of the counter.

“Man, this is gonna be sick!” shouted Wendy.

“I know, right?” Dipper said with a grin. He looked over at the small crowd on the other side of the restaurant. “Hey, what’s that?”

Wendy turned her eyes in that direction. “Oh, cool. Looks like Love God made it here.”

“Huh,” Dipper thought out loud. “Looks kind of like Thompson, except louder and with blonde hair.”

Wendy laughed. “Oh-ho! You’re totally right! I’m so gonna remember that one!”

Dipper laughed along with her. It was moments like these that made him really admire her, even if she didn’t feel the same way… Mabel, who was watching them, thought the exchange was cute in an awkward way.

As they chatted, they didn’t notice another new couple spinning across the diner’s floor, only to fall on top of a table where a certain helping of chili-cheese fries lay almost untouched. The carton went flying… only to hit Dipper square in the face, leaving it a mess.

Wendy chuckled at her pal. “Dude, I guess lunch is on you…? Eh, that was lame. Mind if I…?” Wendy reached over and grabbed a few fries off of Dipper’s face before shoving them in her mouth. “Mmmm… Not as warm as I like, but still good.” She smiled at Dipper, only for her face to turn to mild-shock, her eyes widening and taking on a slight pinkish-tint for a moment.

Dipper wiped some of the food off of his face, licking some of it off his mouth. “You’re right about tha- Whoa!” Dipper’s eyes, too, had become like Wendy’s as he got a good look at the girl. He had always thought she was good-looking, but right now there was just something about her… “Uh, sorry if this sounds weird, but did you get a little more attractive all of a sudden?” he asked.

Wendy blushed. “Don’t know, but I’m glad that you think so. I will say this: you look really good in that v-neck.”

“Thanks, Wendy.” Dipper, too, was red in the face with that compliment.

They had been staring at each other for about half-a-minute when Lazy Susan returned with their milkshakes and a towel. They almost hadn’t noticed.

“Thanks, Susan.” Dipper wiped his faced with the damp cloth.

“No problem, dear. Anyway, have these shakes on the house. That little stunt with the fries didn’t need to happen.”

“Wow! Even bigger-thanks,” Wendy said. “Come on, Handsome. Let’s go to Woodstick.”

“Right now?” Dipper asked. “Shouldn’t we meet the guys first?”

“Nah! They won’t mind… probably. Let’s go.” She smiled warmly at the boy she wanted to squeeze like a stuffed-animal.

Well, how could Dipper say no to that face, especially as she batted her eyelashes? Dipper offered his arm, which she gladly took, and the new couple walked out of Greasy’s Diner (right after grabbing their shakes, of course).

Mabel almost couldn’t believe what she had witnessed. And honestly, she was beside herself with joy! She had mildly pro DipperxWendy when her brother first started crushing on the tall redhead and had offered encouragement or assistance here-and-there to help. Of course, her actions had also put the two of them in danger days ago, and inadvertently led to Dipper getting let down gently. This was an unexpected, but not unwelcome, turn of events. She had just delivered on two happy couples in a matter of minutes (and she thought she had outdone herself with Waddles and Gompers).

“Another match made!” Mabel shouted. “Yay, Domino-Effect!”

Well, Mabel might have been happy with these new developments. That didn’t mean everyone else necessarily agreed. Mabel found that out the hard way. She had just met Nate, Lee, and Thompson in the latter’s garage to let them know they could get going and told them the news about Robbie and Tambry. Their reactions were not what she had been expecting.

“He knew I liked her!” Nate shouted in dismay.

Lee, looking betrayed, confronted his best friend. “You told Robbie but not me?! Not cool!” He slapped Nate upside the head.

“You always make fun of my crushes!” Nate replied angrily.

“Guys! Come on!” Mabel said. “Can’t you just be happy for them? I haven’t even gotten to the other good news!”

“What?” Thompson reluctantly asked.

“My brother and Wendy just got together, too!”

Suddenly, Nate and Lee stopped bickering, looking at Mabel with interest.

“Dr. Funtimes is on a date… with Wendy… at Woodstick?” Lee asked.

“Yep!” Mabel grinned, pulling out a smartphone. “Check out Tambry’s blog. Apparently, both couples are official!”

For a moment everyone was silent. Then panic erupted.

“Oh, crud!” cried Nate.

“This is bad!” Lee shouted.

“What?! What’s going on?!” Mabel asked, now rather afraid.

“Manly Dan follows Tambry on Tweezer! That’s the problem!” Lee yelled.

“If he sees this, he’s going after your brother and his daughter. And he’ll tear apart anything and anyone that gets in his way,” Nate added. He looked at Lee. “Dude; my basement! Now! It’s got a low-ceiling. He’ll never be able to get to us.”

Lee nodded. “Got it. Come on, Thompson!”

“But guys, what about Woodstick?” the group’s punching-bag tried to reason. “I already bought tic-Whoa!” His two friends yanked him by the shirt and hurried out of his garage, leaving a freaked-out Mabel all by herself.

“Oh no…” she thought.

Dipper and Wendy stood in line for Woodstick for about an hour, but to them, it might as well have been five minutes. They were together, after all. And there was no shortage of cutesy, cliché acts that they could do to pass the time (Wendy was especially fond of Dipper walking his fingers up and down her arm). Once they got inside, they almost immediately had their lips locked and didn’t want to separate. They were like that even approaching one of the food trucks. Fortunately, the man taking their order could still make out the word “churro” amongst the face-sucking. They were also like that eating said churro.

“Oh, Dipper!” Wendy said between smooches. “I so regret ever rejecting you after the Bunker-Incident…! You’re nothing like any of the other guys I’ve dated!”

“Mmm… Wendy!” Dipper replied passionately. “There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted more than you! I’d even trade these adventures in Gravity Falls!”

“Dipper!”

“Wendy!”

Robbie and Tambry, who had been nearby, heard everything.

Robbie let out a low-whistle. “Smooth. Corny, but smooth.”

Tambry nodded. “Come on. Let’s leave them to their business. We’ve got selfies to take and people to make uncomfortable with our own overt-affection.”

“Sounds like a plan, babe.”

Robbie and Tambry blissfully walked off to be alone together. Mabel stuck her head out of a bush. She had no time to admire her handywork. She had to save Dipper and Wendy before they get killed. She pulled out a flask with a spray-attachment containing a black fluid. This was an anti-love potion: another something she had just procured from Love God. It would supposedly break the spell she had inadvertently put over those two.

“Just need a clear shot…” she whispered.

She didn’t get a chance. At that instance, she and everyone within a hundred feet of her, heard thunderous stomping and yelling, putting a number of attendees in a panic. Even Dipper and Wendy looked afraid as what could only be described as a tank of a man hailing from a long line of lumberjacks charged into the area in the direction of the couple Mabel was targeting.

“Oh, man! I’m too late…!” Mabel cried out.

Wendy’s father immediately spotted Dipper and Wendy and rushed over to them, and he looked ticked! People around him were smart enough to get out of his way.

“YOU TWO!!!” he shouted upon reaching them.

“Sir, please!” said a security guard who had been following at a reasonable distance. “You need to have a ticket to enter!” Dan didn’t even look at the man. He just picked him by the collar and threw him. He probably landed somewhere in the crowd surrounding the main stage.

The middle-aged giant growled and glared down at the two youths whom he towered over. Even Wendy, who was rather rebellious most of the time, was afraid. She didn’t see this side of father very often, and she tried hard not to.

“M-Mr. Corduroy-” Dipper tried to say.

“SHUT UP! I HAVE A BONE TO PICK WITH YOU!”

Wendy spoke up. “Come on, Dad! Don’t-!”

The man turned to his daughter. “WENDY, GO TO THE TRUCK!”

“But Dad-”

“I SAID GO TO THE TRUCK!” he shouted.

Wendy, looking completely dejected, reluctantly complied. “Yes, Dad…” She gave a sorry-look to her new-boyfriend before slowly walking out the gate.

“AND YOU, BOY!” Dan picked up Dipper by the arm (as there wasn’t much of a collar on Dipper’s shirt to grab) and brought him to eye-level. “YOU AND I ARE GOING TO HAVE A SERIOUS TALK!” Still holding onto the twelve-year-old, he marched off to find some place relatively-private.

A terrified-Mabel was now going over what she should do now. Things were really starting to escalate.

The girl snapped her fingers. “New plan: damage-control! First, I gotta find Wendy in the parking lot, spray her a little, then find Dipper. Hopefully, Manly Dan will be done with him. I’ll get Dipper and outside of a little trauma, it’ll be like none of this ever happened!”

“Here’s another one: you give me back that anti-love potion and face the consequences,” said a voice from behind Mabel.

Mabel turned to see the sour expression of Love God looming over her. “Uh, hi again, Love God…”

“Save it!” he said firmly. “You’re the type who never learns, aren’t you?”

“No! I mean yes! I mean…! Look, it was an accident, okay? Some of the love-potion got on some people who weren’t supposed to be affected, but maybe were meant for each other… It was all so great, but then got bad real fast and I-!”

“-Am about to make it worse by trying a quick-fix! Am I right?” Mabel looked shocked. Her lip started to quiver as she realized that she couldn’t do anything to fix things.

Love God pinched the bridge of his nose. Love comes in many forms, and compassion is just one of them. As such, he was kind of a sucker for people in trouble. “Listen: if something is meant to be, sometimes it’ll work itself out, alright? Heck, you could say my marriage was a happy-accident.”

“You’re married?” Mabel asked.

“Don’t look so surprised, kid,” Love God muttered. He pulled out a flask with yellowish-orange substance. “Now, I believe I mentioned consequences…”

A depressed-Wendy stood by her father’s pick-up truck. This was supposed to be a perfect day: first, Woodstick had finally come, so she had been excited about that. Then, all of a sudden, she got the unexpected-bonus of finding her “Mr. Right”; and in the form of her best guy-friend, no less. “Darn it, Dad!” she thought. “As if you don’t make things hard enough at home! Now, I’m single again and I’m not cool with it!”

She looked out in the direction of the festivities (which was a way’s away). She was waiting for her Manly Dan to return and either berate her or take her home. Maybe both, depending on the mood he was in. The man was somewhat old-fashioned and was often critical of who Wendy dated. Typically, she tried to keep it on the downlow. The only reason she got away with dating Robbie was because she had known him since they were kids (and probably because he knew she’d try to dump him before anything too serious had happened).

After a while, she saw a familiar figure in the distance, but it was not who she was expecting. Dipper was walking in her direction, which shocked Wendy quite a bit. She’d have thought he’d have either taken off or gotten walloped. As the young-adventurer approached, Wendy rushed over to meet him.

“Dipper! What happened? Are you okay?” she cried out.

“I think so,” he replied, looking somewhat shocked himself.

“What did my dad do to you? I heard him shout as I left?”

Dipper looked a little nervous. “He, uh, grabbed me, took me to the side, and laid down the law…”

“Oh no…” Wendy said, worried. “Did he, you know, end it? I don’t want this to end, Dipper!”

“Actually, Wendy, he gave me permission to date you,” he said, looking like he almost didn’t believe it.

Wendy looked confused. “What? But that doesn’t sound like him.”

“Well, there are some conditions, though. A lot of them if you don’t mind my saying…”

Wendy looked nonplussed. “Okay, that sounds a little more like him.”

“See, I guess he was a little move when I told him how I feel about you. He said it reminded him of brief time as a wimp, before he started liking your, uh, mom.”

“Mom…” Wendy thought somberly. She sighed. “Go on…”

“So, these conditions… Doors open at all times for starters… No going out together without permission. No going out where no adults are present… No Lookout Point.” Dipper looked nervous as he was saying all of this.

“What?!” Wendy exclaimed. “That sucks!”

“It gets better,” Dipper said. “I have to get a gym-membership. Your dad’s gonna coach me…”

Wendy cringed. “Ooohhh!!! I don’t envy you there.”

“Tell me about it… You know, there’s a whole list of this stuff. I’ve got it written down.” Dipper reached into his pocket and unfolded a rather long piece of paper with an extensive amount of written-conditions.

Wendy looked at what had all been written. “’Dining with my family once a week…’ Ouch. ‘Six inches apart unless you’re displaying affection’?”

“And I gotta do it right.”

“Dang. ‘Showering every day’? Okay, that I can sort of live with. No offense,” she told her dork.

Dipper nodded. “None taken.”

“And you’re on call whenever my dad needs an extra hand logging?”

“Pretty much. Oh, I’m also apparently not allowed to kiss you without his pre-written permission.”

“Drat! And that’s not even half of it, either.”

“Pretty much…” Dipper said, shrugging.

“Dude, this is a lot to ask for. I know I’m willing, but are you sure you want to go through this? I know I’m not really that awesome…”

“What kind of question is that? Of course I’m going to go through it all. To me, you’re more than worth it.”

“Oh, Dipper!” Wendy pulled the boy she fallen in love with tight. He returned the sentiment for a moment, but then reluctantly pushed her away.

“Boundaries, remember?” he said awkwardly.

“Right…” she replied, clearly not too happy about this arrangement. “So, you want to go back to Woodstick?”

“Sure!” Dipper replied enthusiastically. “Oh, and FYI, your dad says we’re allowed one kiss here.”

Wendy gave him a small-smile. “Well, guess we better make it count. We just gotta choose the right moment.”

And so, the young couple enjoyed their date at Woodstick together, being careful not to do anything to provoke Manly Dan (who was still around). They had some nice festival-food. They danced to some of the catchier songs on stage. They laughed at some of the antics of some of the more serious attendees. And when Stan Pines’ malformed, blazing hot-air balloon crashed in the middle of the festivities, the two of them decided that was a perfect time to have that kiss.

Meanwhile, as people gawked at the flaming balloon being put out by the fire-department, Mabel, clad in a cowboy hat and boots, sang a fun country-tune with the local minstrel, Toot-Toot McBumbersnazzle, briefly entertaining them and the firefighters as the flames went out.

Of course, most everyone took off as soon as they saw Stan approach…

Ten years later, at one of Gravity Falls’ fancy restaurants full of dinner, dancing, and live-music, a married-couple were dancing closely to the nice, slow, jazzy beat. One was a tall, fetching redhead in a shimmering, sleeveless gown. The other was a tall, muscular man in a custom-made tuxedo that probably wouldn’t tear when he flexed. It was easy to tell how blissfully enamored they both were.

“Oh, Mason!” the woman exclaimed. “I’m so glad we decided to stay together that summer!” Her husband gently dipped her low. “You’re so devoted. Show me that list of conditions again!”

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, worn out slice of paper with faded-writing. His wife swooned in response.

“You’re never going to let me live that old fantasy down, are you?” he said with a chuckle.

“Not a chance, Mister!” Wendy smiled as he pulled her back to eye-level. “Not a chance.”

#wendip #Wendy Corduroy #Dipper Pines #Gravity Falls #WenDipWeek #fanfic #love potion #submission

24 notes · View notes

katherinemallory · 4 years ago

Text

#5 Everyone’s got their own soft spot

Things have got quite complicated... If you want to know how, check it here: #1 #2 #3 #4

I kept shouting his name, but he ignored me. His silver Aston Martin DB10 has quickly disappeared. Great, I thought. I am soaking wet... And Bond seems to know my deepest, darkest secret. This is even worse than being out of active service.

I went up the stairs to my apartment. It turned out that I had difficulties with putting the key into the keyhole as my hands were shaking. I didn't know what I wanted to do, I didn't know anything, I was so overwhelmed. I just dreamed of taking a *really* long bath. A bath so long that it would take a week, and no one could disturb me... But before I took my wet clothes off, I searched my bag, looking for my phone. I checked on Amanda.

“Hello, this is Amanda Clarke speaking.”

It was the first time I've heard her real surname.

“Amanda, it's me, Katherine,” I uttered, feeling that my body was still shaking. Somehow I managed to keep my voice sweet. “It's good to hear you... Is everything alright? You didn't want to talk to me earlier.”

For a while there was no response.

“Yeah... I'm sorry, Kath,” she said like a person who doesn't have any hope left. “I'm really sorry I ruined everything.”

It was simply painful to hear that defeated tone.

“Hey, Amanda, you did ruin nothing. I asked how do *you* feel?”

There was a long moment of silence again.

“Honestly... I don't know anymore,” said Amanda, and then began to cry. “It was a-all my fault! I-I ruin-ned our mission and n-n-now... the whole se-e-ection is endange-e-red... it's-s... a nightmare,” she sobbed. “E-even M didn't spe-eak to me f-f-for long... H-he wa-anted me ou-ut of the-e office as soon a-as we e-e-entered...”

“Listen, it's not that,” I replied. “Surely he was angry, but believe me, not as angry as he could have been... I assume he just didn't expect us to get in trouble,” I kept wandering around my apartment, talking to Amanda as if I wanted to convince both her and myself that nothing serious has happened. “M will get over it soon. He knows the nature of our job. Just give him time,” I added in a single breath.

“T-t-thanks, Kath... it m-mea-ans a lot... and how-w are-e you...?”

I stopped in front of a mirror that was hanging on the wall next to my bedroom’s door. Hair: wet. Clothes: wet. Mood: would punch anyone who'd be standing near.

“Fine,” I sighed, “apart from the fact I just had an argument with Bond.”

“Wh-hat happene-ed??”

As soon as I realized what I've just confessed, I regretted it. From now on I had to be more cautious. No one could know the truth... or perhaps one person could, but definitely not one of the double-0s. And apart from that, Amanda’s got bigger problems on her mind than some pathetic life stories.

“Nevermind... You wouldn't believe me anyway... just some spy stuff.”

...

I took a long bath as I had planned, then changed into my pyjamas and went to bed. I felt like doing absolutely nothing, but there was one thing I couldn't take off my mind.

Despite being pretty angry at him, I tried to call Bond three times. And guess what, every single time my call went to voicemail. I quickly gave up and sent him a message instead:

James, I know you're upset, but we have to talk. I hope you’ll meet me when you're back... please take care of yourself.

I looked at my phone once again (just to make sure that I have sent the message), and felt that my eyelids began to close...

...

I woke up early the next day, even though I did not set the alarm clock. Perfect, I thought just after I have woken up, I don’t have to hurry. It’s going to be a long day and I have plenty of time to prepare myself for it.

I looked at my phone to check if Bond has answered me. As there were still no new messages, I had only one option left: the smart-blood programme.

Hi Q, it’s Kath. Has James landed in Maldives already?

There was a response within a minute.

Hello Kath. I’m sorry, but I promised James that I’d not tell anyone except M. Hope you’ll have a good day.

I glanced over the message a couple of times in disbelief. Mr. Bond pretends not to care anymore... Bastard, I said to myself as I went to the bathroom.

The fact I got suspended from any field operations, didn't necessarily mean that I didn’t have to show up at the MI6 Headquarters - there was plenty of paper work, waiting there for me and Amanda... M didn’t give us any days off (unlike he did with other double-0s), and it felt like a punishment... A punishment we deserved without a doubt.

I wanted to look elegantly that day. Not only because I needed to improve my mood after recent events, but also because of my meeting with Eve. I always liked to dress-up for the meetings with my friends. I was really looking forward to our dinner, as I missed her dearly when I was in Switzerland. And, what is more, it was her whom I wanted to tell everything about my disagreement with Bond.

There was this gossip spreading in the double-0 section that Eve was head over heels in love with Bond, but I didn’t quite believe it. When we all met on my first day after promotion, I got an impression that from the whole double-0 section it was Bond himself who was most convinced of the rumours' genuineness. He assumed that Moneypenny had a huge crush on him, but Eve didn’t seem too worried about Bond taking me on a date. She didn’t try to interrupt him when he was talking to me, and, what is more, she didn’t even seem interested in our conversation. Maybe Eve was a good actress after all, but my instincts told me something weird was going on there.

I have chosen one of my least favourite suits - a bottle green one (I was never a big fan of that colour, but I guess I’ve changed my mind a bit after realizing *someone’s eyes* were green...) - and a white shirt. Simple, but not too classic. Ideal to make a statement, I thought as I took the last sip of my morning cup of Earl Grey.

...

Both me and Amanda were quite busy with all the paper work we had to do that morning, but we didn't complain. We obediently accepted the "punishment", even though it took its toll... After a few hours of intense work, I decided to take Eve for lunch as I had promised her the day before.

I went through the long corridor on the last floor that led to M’s office. It was a lovely, sunny morning and the walls were *radiant* because of the sunshine that was coming through the windows. Even the colour of the door at the end of the corridor appeared to be a bit more brighter that day.

When I came in, M was standing next to Moneypenny’s desk. He was holding a few pieces of paper, probably some important documents, and it looked like he was telling her a story. M stopped talking, and they both looked in my direction. Eve was a bit astonished, but Mallory smiled at me mildly, almost imperceptibly.

“Good morning, sir,” I said, feeling both uncomfortable and excited to have met Mallory unexpectedly. “Hi, Eve.”

“Morning, 002,” replied Mallory. “Did you come here to see me or Miss Moneypenny?”

His voice sounded warm and gentlemanly. I could tell he was in a good mood.

“I came to see Eve, sir. Forgive me, if I’m intruding, I can come back later...”

“No, it’s fine. Miss Moneypenny can take some time off,” he looked at her, and then at his watch. “It’s time for lunch after all.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Eve, then stood up and walked around her desk. "Hi, Katherine," she added, touching my right arm.

M gave us a glance and put his hand on the doorknob. He was just about to go inside his office.

“Oh, sir,” I said shyly, but loud enough for him to notice. “I actually wanted to ask you something...”

“Yes, 002?” he responded as he turned his head towards me.

Damn, today he’s more hot than ever, I thought. He was wearing a very dark (definitely not black) suit, and one of his blue shirts, but I couldn’t take my eyes off his hair. It looked a little different than usual as Mallory was standing in front of the room's window. The sunlight highlighted his receding hairline and made me focus on the colour of his hair. His magnetic green eyes were observing my face, while he was waiting to hear my question. It was a wonderful moment. I wanted it to last forever.

“Katherine, I’ll wait for you outside,” announced Eve and left us alone.

I followed her with my eyes and then looked directly at Mallory. So hot... if only I could... Damn, Kath! Stop it. Don’t forget that he is your supervisor. And you’ve got a question to ask.

“Sir... has 007 reported to you already? Has he landed in Maldives safely?”

Mallory raised his right eyebrow. The questions surprised him.

“No,” he said calmly, “not yet, but I’m sure he’ll do that soon.”

He glanced at me suspiciously.

“Are you really *that* worried about him?” he asked in his most kind manner, putting the documents on Eve’s desk. Then he leaned against the wall next to the door to his office.

“No, sir,” I lied. “But we had an argument yesterday and I wanted to make sure he’s alright.”

“And do you think I know if Bond’s alright better than the man himself? Try to contact him.”

“I tried many times, sir,” I blurted, “but he ignores me... it seems like he has disappeared...”

Mallory was still very polite, but acted indifferent.

“It’s the fate of glass to break... well maybe it’s the fate of spies to just disappear,” he said slowly.

“Perhaps, sir, but he was really furious...”

At first, Mallory seemed like he really tried to understand my point of view. But I was dead sure he wouldn’t agree with me. He looked through the window and sighed while I was still explaining my concerns. The light hit Mallory’s eyes. He interrupted me, sounding semi-friendly.

“002, please behave like a professional,” Mallory instructed me in his deep, dry voice, as he picked up the documents from the table. “Private business between you and Bond is not a concern of mine. Save your energy for your main objective for today. There's plenty of paper work to deal with.”

Harsh. He went from being understanding to uncompromising very quickly. I looked down and blushed.

"I promise we’ll get the work done, sir.”

I noticed him smile as I lifted up my face to meet his eyes.

“Bond will be fine. Don’t worry,” said Mallory dryly. “Is that all...?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“See you later then, 002. And please remember your lunch with Miss Moneypenny shouldn’t take longer than half an hour.”

...

I agreed to meet Eve outside the MI6 Headquarters, so I took the elevator and went the way down. I couldn’t stop to think about Mallory... I’ve been analyzing the way he spoke to me just a few minutes ago. He sent me a lot of mixed signals. At first he was so understanding, and then he just *had* to remind me of my professionalism... Clearly he wasn’t satisfied with some private stuff going on between me and Bond. And I don't blame M - I can’t imagine myself as the Head of MI6 who has to deal with some conflict, or worse - romance, between my two double-0s...

I went outside and saw Eve, who was wearing a checkered coat and looking more adorable than ever.

“I’m sorry, Eve, I just *had* to talk to M for a while,” I said, being ashamed of myself that I made her wait for me.

“Please, don’t apologize, Kath,” she replied as she took my arm. “Now I’ve got you all for myself. Let’s go!”

“Now we look like a proper couple!” I said, as I turned my head to her and we burst into laughter.

...

We didn’t have unlimited time for our dinner, so we stopped at an Italian restaurant just around the corner. We could have eaten together in one of the cafes in the MI6 building, but we didn’t want to. It was safer to go somewhere more private. Obviously, leaving the SIS building couldn’t guarantee not being eavesdropped by one of your colleagues, but without a doubt it reduced the probability.

“So, Eve, how are you?” I asked, just after we both ordered our meals. “How was the life in the MI6 recently? Tell me everything.”

“Oh, it was nothing special. All the fun has gone together with you!” Eve giggled. “I had a lot of paper work to do, as usual, because nearly the whole double-0 section was away... and Bond kept coming to me and repeatedly asked about your reports to M...” she rested her left hand on the table and placed her head on the hand. “Of course I didn’t inform him of anything. He was convinced that I was aware of the content of the reports, but it’s not true. All the reports always go directly to M. And M forbids me from reading them. I'm sure Bond knows that as a double-0...”

She paused for a moment when the waiter came to our table with her glass of still water.

“And M... he has been quite nervous since you and Amanda left for Geneva...”

She gave me a glance and took a sip from her glass.

“... I don't know why, but he has been kind of irritated all the time,” she continued, looking directly at me. “And it all culminated when the Chief of the Swiss intelligence informed him of the planned kidnapping. It seemed like he was very concerned about that mission. He reacted immediately..."

“Yeah, I noticed his immediate reaction," I laughed, looking at the table. "You probably shouldn’t be telling me that.”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t,” added Eve. “But when you work with him every day...” she hesitated, “... you get a bit tired. It's not because of him, but rather all the stuff that is always going on... It can be really stressful sometimes, and after a few intense weeks in a row you feel exhausted... I have *no idea* how M is still capable of leading this whole organization... those emotions can drive you *crazy* if you let them... at the end of the day you have to vent to someone.”

"I get it," I replied, scratching my right hand. "You can vent to me whenever you feel like venting. I wouldn't want you to go crazy."

"Thanks, Kath. It feels good to know someone cares for your own sanity.”

The waiter came again, this time bringing our dinner.

“Speaking of M,” I trembled, “there is something I *have* to tell you.”

"I'm all ears."

“I know that... we don’t know each other for long, but... you’re the only one I trust with this...”

And I told her *everything*. How I left the double-0 section meeting with Bond, how he confessed his feelings for me, and how he accused me of having a crush on M.

"So, what's your opinion on this?” I asked when I finished the story.

“It’s no big deal,” said Eve. “Everyone’s got their own soft spot.”

“I do not follow you.”

“Oh, Katherine,” she replied. “It’s obvious. You’re Bond’s soft spot. And... it seems like M’s yours.”

I looked her straight in the eye, but quickly moved my sight to the flowers in a little vase that was standing on our table. Eve continued to talk.

“Yeah, I remember exactly what you’ve told me *that* day: ‘I’m not interested in men at my age’... And the look on your face when you left his office... I could tell there was something more in your eyes than just the excitement before the mission. Something more... private,” said Eve, looking at my shocked face. “Then this Christmas present.... and Bond’s jealousy. It all fits together.”

She left me speechless for a while.

“I just... I just hope it’s not too obvious...”

“I have no idea, Kath. But perhaps Bond noticed your behaviour because he’s interested in you,” she speculated. “Do you think he really had his reasons to figure it all out?"

“I’m not sure... but probably yes,” I confessed with a worried look on my face. “I told him how M let me chose my double-0 number, how he reacted to the present... Do you think for Bond it was enough?”

“Judging by the way you stared at M earlier today, I think it might have been enough.”

“Hey, I wasn’t staring at him...”

Eve smirked and started to shake her head.

“Right...” I said. “Thanks for being honest with me, Eve.”

I felt really embarrassed.

“Do you think it’s wrong?” I asked, sounding pretty concerned about my romantic feelings.

“Wrong? There’s always some excitement associated with a love triangle!” quipped Eve.

“No, Eve... I’m serious,” I insisted, while looking at the other tables, making sure no one observed us. Even though we were at some random restaurant, I was scared that there might have been someone from the SIS. “Is... is it wrong that I fell for M?”

She smiled at me mildly.

“No. It’s not wrong,” she assured me. “But you'll have to be very careful with what you do about it. Anything you do right now might make things very much complicated.”

...

After the dinner we came back to the MI6 Headquarters, as we both had a lot to deal with. We said goodbye in the main corridor. Eve left for M’s office and I left for the paper work.

“Thanks so much for listening to me, Eve. I just... I just hope that talking about Bond didn’t bother you...”

“No, it’s perfectly fine. You were right to assume it’s just a stupid rumour.”

“It is?”

“Yeah,” said Eve. “It used to be true, but it’s not true anymore... I have to go, Kath. I’m already three minutes late and M’s going to kill me!” exclaimed Eve, and then gave me a hug. “And don’t worry much. We’ll come up with the solution.”

“Thank you, Eve. You’re the best,” I replied, as I placed my head on her shoulder and returned the hug. I closed my eyes for a moment.

“Miss Moneypenny,” said a male, stern voice, “would you mind coming back to work?”

I opened my eyes and saw Mallory who has just appeared in front of me out of nowhere.

“I’m s-s-sorry, sir... I’m coming,” said Eve quietly.

Mallory didn’t reply and they headed towards the elevator. I watched them until the elevator’s door have closed.

Eve’s such a great person, I thought. What a relief... I’ve told her everything and now I feel a lot better. But should I feel any better...? I’m in the middle of some stupid love triangle and there is nothing to be proud of. It’s not even a triangle since it’s only Bond who is interested in me.

How is it possible what whenever Bond leaves, I miss him dearly, but when he is close I can’t think of anyone else but Mallory? And when I see Mallory I can barely think straight?

Time to get back to work.

***

To be continued.

#bond james bond #james bond #fanfiction #james bond fanfiction #Gareth Mallory #m #katherine mallory #miss moneypenny #002 #007 #spectre quote #no time to die quote #q

5 notes · View notes