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narutogwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Wildest Dreams

Pairing: Sasuke Uchiha x Reader

CW: mild nsfw; angst

Length: 2.5k+

Inspired by “Wildest Dreams” by Taylor Swift

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

You can feel his breath on the back of your neck as you stand motionless. The moonlight spills in through the window, lighting up the otherwise dark room. You’re holding your breath, afraid to move, afraid to make a sound. You don’t want to break the spell, worried that this is all a dream.

His hands brush through your hair, gathering the strands to move them over one shoulder, exposing the back of your neck to him. Your eyes flutter closed as his lips begin to press light, open mouthed kisses to the bare skin. His hands pull your hair, tilting your head to the side and revealing more of your neck. The other hand trails down your arm which is pinned close to your side. His fingers gliding over you brings goosebumps to the skin.

If this was wrong, you didn’t care. If this made you a traitor, you would gladly spend a lifetime on the run if it meant you could spend every night like this. You knew that you would have to wake up soon. This could only happen in your wildest dreams. But somehow, it was reality.

You weren’t supposed to be alone. Teams were put together even on the simplest missions for a reason. The world was a dangerous, unsafe place, and outside the perimeters of a village, anything could happen.

But you had never seen the ocean before. In all of your years as a ninja, none of your missions had brought you to the shore. So when you were sent to help a beachside town, you didn’t want to leave. All you wanted was to feel the sand in between your toes and breathe the salt air into your lungs. Reluctantly, your teammates agreed to head back home without you. You would only be a day or two, after all.

The small town was full of cute little boutiques with seashell necklaces and beachy dresses. You couldn’t help but to buy something, wanting to live out the romantic picture you had in your head. In a white maxi dress with a slit up the side and tiny starfish earrings, you headed to the shore.

The sun was beginning to set, and you’d never seen a more beautiful sight. Reflecting off the waves were the most radiant pinks and oranges you’d ever seen in your life. It was blinding, and the line where the sky met the sea gave you the feeling that you were being called to something more.

You could have stayed there forever. You wanted to. Maybe you should. Leave the leaf, put the shinobi way of life behind you and spend the rest of your days with your feet in the sand and saltwater in your hair.

It was only out of the corner of your eye that you noticed another figure arriving on the beach, standing a ways away from you, taking in the vision like you were. You wondered what that person was thinking and feeling, if they were in awe of the natural beauty the way you were. Did the vastness of the sea make everything in their life seem small the way it did yours?

You’d always been a dreamer, lost in your own head. You longed for someone who saw the things you saw, and thought the things you did. It was a bad habit you’d picked up, projecting your own fantasies onto others, but you couldn’t help it. You were desperate for the type of connection that made everything else fall into place.

On a whim, you turned to look at the person. You weren’t going to talk to them, not wanting to break the magical spell the scene had placed on you. It was simple curiosity, wanting to know who you shared this special moment with.

Nothing could have prepared you for who it was you saw.

After an eternity, his lips detach themselves from your neck. Both hands holding your arms, he turns you slowly to face him. You have to tilt your head back to look at him; he was so much taller now than he had been last time you saw him. Shakily, your hands move to touch him in a way you never thought you would.

You place a hand against his chest, feeling the firm muscles underneath your fingertips. He wasn’t a boy anymore, and neither were you a little girl. His black hair still stood out shockingly against his pale skin, but those normally cold dark eyes were alight, staring into yours, burning with something you’d never seen before.

His hand reached up, caressing your cheek with a softness you didn’t know he was capable of, gaze so intense you thought you would buckle under it. Butterflies erupted in your stomach, fluttering up into your throat, choking you with something you didn’t have a name for. The adrenaline they brought sent signals to your brain, screaming for you to run.

But it was already too late. He was a lion, and you were the prey. You would gladly let him devour you whole.

You were a sight for sore eyes, the relief at having some kind of familiarity shocking him. It had been so long since he’d been home, and he never missed it. He’d done everything he could to sever all his ties to the Leaf, and he never thought of it at all anymore.

So the leap in his chest at seeing you after so many years was almost overwhelming for him. How long had it been since he’d last felt anything other than apathy? That was what he’d been wondering as he’d stared into the sinking sun, watching as the light shined off the water like diamonds.

Sometimes, when he looked at something so big, something that seemed so infinite like the ocean, it made him--all of his hate and aspirations--feel small and meaningless. Sometimes it made him wonder if he could just shrink, disappear into nothingness and leave it all behind. The hurt, the anger, the hatred. But who was he without those feelings?

And then there was you, standing there like a vision, as if you were the answer to all his unsaid prayers. Had this been any other time, any other moment, he probably wouldn’t have felt this way. His walls would have been up. He wouldn’t have paid you a second look. He couldn’t afford to.

But that was what made the whole thing seem so serendipitous. You were there at the exact right time, the time when his guard was down, and he was searching for some kind of answer.

You looked like an angel standing in your white dress, and the sunset reflecting in your eyes looked like a fire burning within you. He wanted to touch your rosey cheeks, press his lips against your red ones. It was a vision he would keep in his mind long after he’d left you behind.

“No one has to know,” You whisper. Your foreheads are pressed together, your lips but a centimeter apart. You both agree; it’ll be a secret between the two of you, a memory that you’ll tuck away in the very back of your mind. One you’ll only remember in the dead of night while everyone else is asleep.

His hands go to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands. He lets the soft curls run through his fingers a few times, and a blissful sigh leaves your lips at the gentle touch. Then, suddenly, his fingers are tightening at the nape of your neck. You gasp at the roughness, though it comes out as a broken moan. He pulls your head back by your hair, staring down at you with lust in his eyes.

You reach for him with shaky hands, pulling at the tie on his robe, pushing the cloak off his shoulders. It falls to the floor, leaving his upper body bare, and your eyes take in every inch of him.

The want is clear on your face, and you are putty in his hands. You know it, and so does he. It should be scary, being so vulnerable with someone, being so willing to please. But you know he isn’t going to take advantage of you. He’s not going to hurt you. At least not in any way that you won’t let him.

You hear your name leave his lips, and the sound is so familiar. You’d played his voice in your head a million times over the years, but it’d been starting to fade. You hadn’t wanted to lose his voice, and now you were sure you never would. You could never forget the way your name sounded coming from his lips.

A part of you is almost surprised he even recognized you. It had been a long time, afterall, and you doubted that he had ever thought of you much. You were never one of his screaming girls, just a silent fan watching him from the sidelines, wanting him to succeed. You always wished you would be the one to break through his defenses, but your attempts had only ever left you bruised.

But he’s looking at you, and you think he sees you. He really sees you, and it leaves you weightless, breathless, nothing else in the world exists or matters. It doesn’t make sense, that he’s here, that he knows you, that he’s talking to you. It’s like something you dreamed up, but he’s here, and this is really happening.

You wonder if he’ll remember this the same way you will, if he’ll look back on tonight as a pivotal moment in his life the way. Here, in this inn room, is a liminal space. You can’t stay here with him, as much as you may want to. You must cross over, make a decision, some kind of move. In this room, you are leaving something behind, but not fully where you are going.

Nothing lasts forever, but for now you can stay, and you can remember.

“Say you’ll remember me.”

The words come out as a desperate moan as you grasp your hands in his hair. He’s sucking bruises into your skin, barely containing himself. Your clothes are on a pile on the floor somewhere, mixed with his own. The two of you are tangled in each other; you don’t know where you start or where he ends.

He hums against you, letting you know he heard you. You want to hear him say it, but you’re too caught up in the pleasure to really care. His fingers are pumping into you insistently, becoming more and more impatient. You can feel him hard as he presses against you, eager. Needy.

Finally, he pulls back from you, you both are panting are, trying to catch your breath. You stare up at him, searching. His eyes meet yours, and they’re no longer dark as night; they’re red as blood, and you’re hypnotized, totally caught up in him.

“I’ll remember.”

And then his lips are on yours, and he’s pressing inside you, and it burns so good you think you’ll lose your mind. You think you must be making noise because how could you stay quiet when there’s so much pleasure, but anything coming out of your mouth is swallowed up by his.

You’re arching into him, desperate, and he’s holding you to his body so tightly it’s like he’s afraid you’re going to disappear at any moment. Your name is tumbling continuously from his lips and it sounds like a poem you could spend a lifetime listening to. You know there is only tonight, but you can let yourself dream.

On the bed, on the counter, against the wall. He takes you on every surface he can manage, bucking into you wildly, and you think this must be the most out of control he’s ever been in his life, and the fact that it’s because of you has your head reeling. You’ve never wanted something so bad in your entire existence.

Your mouths are pressed together, your tongues clashing. He hooks your leg over his shoulder and he presses into you so completely your head spins, and you’re convulsing around him, screaming his name desperately.

More.

You need more.

The room is spinning, you think you’re still crying out, and his movements haven’t stopped or even slowed.

You feel like you could pass out then and there, but you force your eyes open, wanting to take in every movement, every inch of him, and you realize he’s doing the same. His eyes haven’t left you once, and it’s overwhelming, the intensity of his gaze.

“Say my name.”

He’s commanding you and begging you all at once, and you have no choice but to comply. Saying his name feels like the answer to your prayer.

And then he’s cuming, hips stuttering into yours as he spills inside of you. He continues to rock into you as he rides through his high, lips smashed harshly against yours. You never want him to stop, but eventually he does, stilling inside of you.

He’s propping himself up by his elbows, barely, breathing hard as he looks at you. You’re both caught in the dream. You never want to wake up.

And you definitely don’t want to ruin this, but you can’t help yourself. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair as you force out the words, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Will I see you again?”

You both know the answer. You are two very different people on two very different paths. You can’t ask him to stay anymore than he can ask you to leave, and you both know this.

But it’s like an unspoken agreement. It’s okay to pretend that, yes, you will see each other again, that no, this isn’t the end. So he says it, says yes. He will see you again.

So you spend the rest of the night pretending. In between every kiss, every touch, you talk about the ways things might have been and then you ride him desperately, or he takes you from behind, and as you catch your breaths, you continue to pretend.

You spend all the dark hours tangled up in each other.

You’re gone the next morning before he wakes. You had to be. You knew you couldn’t survive it, seeing him leave you. You had to be the one to go.

By now you couldn’t smell the sea salt or feel the ocean breeze on your skin. You were too far gone, moving quicker than you usually would. The faster you got home, the faster you left it all behind you, a distant memory.

Part of you wished you had stayed, at least said goodbye. But you knew you couldn’t. The night had ended on a high. Anything else would have shattered the spell he had cast on you.

He sat up, alone in the inn room. Sunlight was just starting to spill through the blinds as he shrugged his robe back over his shoulders. He made a move to leave, but a small note on the nightstand caught his eye. He picked it up, examining the neat, cursive print.

see you in my wildest dreams

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thatesqcrush · 4 years ago

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Time of the Month

Kevin Mulrooney x Reader. I mentioned possibly writing him again and an anon was definitely interested. Warnings: Dark!fic - dubcon, knife play, blood play, smut (they have sex while she is on her period), language. Possibly squick for many so I am only tagging those who may be interested: @beccabarba @madpanda75 @dreamlover31 @teamsladsandgents

AN: Final piece for Love You, Love You Not Bingo. Using South of the Border for my song of choice.

WC: 1.8K

“Babe, I’m a bad wife, I got Chinese for dinner.” You replied as you made your way into your Brooklyn apartment, slamming the door behind with your foot. When you received no response, you called out for your husband again.

“Kev?” You set down the bag of takeout and your work bag. You made your further into the apartment; it was eerily quiet. You pushed the door to the bedroom, when you felt a set of hands on your shoulders. You let out a scream as you whipped around and met the green eyes of your husband.

“Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me!” You frowned, hitting him slightly on the shoulder. “I hate when you sneak up on me like that. I thought you were a murderer or something.”

A smile twitched on Kevin’s face and he let out a small chuckle. “That’ll make the headline - ADA Kevin Mulrooney, secret slasher extraordinaire.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “You got Chinese for dinner?”

“Yeah.” You sighed. “It’s that time of the month and I am having the worst cramps. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Kevin replied. “Why don’t you change and I’ll set out the food.”

“You’re the best - this is why I married you.” You replied, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Ah, see I thought you married me for my looks.” Kevin murmured, stroking your chin. His hand moved down to your neck and wrapped around it so gently, you hardly noticed. Kevin could feel your pulse throb with his thumb and his cock stirred to life.

“That too.” You replied, before raising up to kiss him once more. Kevin pulled you closer to him and you could see a glint in his eyes, causing you to arch your brow in curiosity.

“Go change.” Kevin replied, giving your ass a squeeze.

You rolled your eyes, “Okay my little murderer.” You turned and made way to the bedroom, where you changed into a tank-top and sweats. Your hair, which was loose, was bundled into a messy top-knot and you walked back to find that Kevin had spread out the food on the coffee table with chopsticks.

“What movie do you want to watch?” Kevin asked as he turned on the tv.

“Oh anything - I don’t really care.” You replied, curling up on the couch. Kevin chose a documentary, but it wasn’t really watched as the two of you ate and caught up on the day's events.

After dinner, the two of you cleaned up. You were rinsing a plate when you felt Kevin come up to you, him pressing into your back. You shivered as his lips touched your skin, trailing down kisses down the slope of your neck.

“Mmm, babe, I want to,” you protested, “but I told you, it’s that time of the month.”

“Did you know, having an orgasm can help relieve cramps?” Kevin murmured into your ear as one hand slipped under your tank top to cup your tit. He rolled your nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

“I don’t know… I have never…” You continued to protest. Kevin removed his hand from your tit and slipped down and into the waistband of your sweatpants.

“Babe, I don’t want…” You protested once more, but Kevin ignored it as his hand pushed past the waistband of your panties and cupping your cunt. The back of his hand felt the material of what he assumed was your maxi pad. He was pleased you chose to wear one instead of your usual tampons. Kevin’s fingers quickly found your clitoris and he began to rub it in soft circles. He directed his mouth back to your neck, sucking marks into your skin. You moaned and closed your eyes as you gripped the lip of the sink as he continued to play with you. “Kev, I … oh fuck.”

Kevin could feel your wetness grow and he wondered how much of it was your arousal versus actual menstrual blood. He slipped his hand from inside and brought it to his face, his eyes darkening at the sight of your arousal streaked with some blood.

You happened to turn around to face him and you swallowed hard as you watched him suck his fingers clean. You opened your mouth to say something and instead you crushed your lips to his, in a rough kiss. Your hands tangled into his hair as you kissed him, hungry and desperate. “Join me in our bed.”

Kevin picked you up and smacked your ass as he brought you to the bedroom. Once in the bedroom, Kevin gave you a wicked grin before making quick removal of his clothes, his cock hard, red, and weeping.

“You trust me?” Kevin asked, breathless as he stood over your form.

You nodded. “Of course.”

You thought Kevin was going to make way to the chest in front of the bed where the two of you kept various sex toys. Instead he went to his side of the dresser and pulled out a fixed blade knife, about 5 to 6 inches in total length, with about a 3-inch blade. You scrambled up slightly, fear coursing through you as the night seemed to take an unprecedented turn.

Kevin took a step towards you, causing you to jump once more. You felt cemented in place as all you wanted to do was run but you were too panicked to do so. Kevin noticed and his gaze softened momentarily.

“I am not going to hurt you - I promise. It is sharp on one side and dull on the other.” Kevin explained as he played with the knife.

“Kevin - I don’t know…” You stammered, feeling tears well. “I love you but…”

“Shhh, relax.” Kevin replied, sitting next to you. “I am going to make you feel so good. I’m gonna put my time in. You never live 'til you risk your life.”

He pressed his lips to yours once more, kissing you gently and softly. “Trust me.” He took the knife and ghosted it under your tank top, the feel of the cold blade grazing your skin. Your heart began to beat faster and goosebumps covered your skin.

“You’re a little crazy, but I'm just your type.” You murmured.

Kevin brought the knife back up from under. He grabbed at your tank top with his other hand and jerked up with the knife in one sharp motion, tearing the material with a pained rip. You gasped as he did so. Kevin ran the blade up between the valley of your breasts before tracing the tip around your already so sensitive nipples. His hand made way down your sweatpants again, finding its way easily to your pussy. You let out a groan as he sunk a finger inside of you. As he stroked you, Kevin continued to run the knife along your body. Part of his psyche urged him to nick you, but he fought against that, focusing on your moans to keep him locked into reality.

Kevin could feel your walls flutter against his fingers, so he slipped his fingers out of you, much to your protest. He grabbed the hem of your sweatpants and pulled them down. Kneeling in front of you, he spread your legs apart.

“Kevin - no, that’s too much.” You protested again. Kevin took the knife and ran it along your inner thighs before bringing it to the waistband of your panties, and repeated the actions from earlier, tearing the material with ease.

Kevin dropped the knife and encouraged you to lift your hips to remove the ruined material. Then his mouth was on your hot, wet core, eating you out as if he were a man starved. He dragged his tongue around, tasting you and enjoying the mixture of your arousal and slight metallic taste of your blood. Your body arched in response and he moved his arm to lay it over you to keep you in place. Kevin kept a steady pace on you, watching your face as you gasped and moaned as he brought you to the edge. His teeth nipped your clit as he stroked that sensitive spot.

“Kev, oh shit, fuck, I am gonna- fuck, gonna c--” You voice faltered as you came hard around his mouth. As more of your arousal and blood mixed into his mouth, his arousal surged through his body as if something animalistic and primal was awoken.

You barely had a moment to come down, before Kevin was over you. He pushed your knees up and sunk his cock into you. You let out a gasp as he bottomed out and began to fuck you hard, and furious. Your foreheads touch and you pulled his face to yours, streaked with red. He captured your lips once more, and you gasp against his mouth. “Fuck me harder Kevin, give it to me.”

Kevin growls and picks up his pace. He pounds into your mercilessly, gripping you hard and you know come morning, you would be very much sore and his marks would remain as evidence of this night.

You angled your hips, finding friction against your clit and you can feel your orgasm begin to crest. Kevin was now chasing his own release, getting closer and closer. He let out a deep guttural groan as he stilled, coming deep inside of you. You reached between finding your clit and you rubbed until your own release crashed over you, moaning Kevin’s name.

Kevin slumped over you, and you continued to cling to him, your bodies sweaty and sticky. A thought comes across your mind and you let out a giggle. Kevin raises his head and your eyes rake over the smatters of dried blood on his face.

“I guess you earned your red wings. Oh my god, did I just say that? Still can’t believe we did that.”

Kevin removes his now softened cock from you, and he can’t help but spread your legs apart, watching his come drip out of you, no longer virginal white. A smile spreads on his face as he slips his fingers back into your cunt. You let out another moan as he starts stroking you once more. He leaned closely to you, his eyes meeting yours.

“Out of curiosity, how long does your period last?”

FIN.

#kevin mulrooney x readerr #dark fic #dubcon cw #thatesqcrushvdaybingo #kevin mulrooney imagine

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thehangeddemon · 3 years ago

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Playing with Fire || Master Maxi || March, 1958

Maximus: Maximus hesitated just outside of the office. The day's mail stacked neatly on a silver tray, newly polished. He hovered only because of Xavier's stance, awaiting to be noticed.

Xavier: Xavier was rubbing his forehead and temples in rhythmic little circles, a distinct furrow to his brow that said the universe was sorely testing him this day.

It was when he leaned back in his chair to heave a great sigh that he noticed Maximus and some of that annoyance melted away. "How long have you been standing there?" he asked with an apologetic smile.

Maximus: "Long enough to know better." Only then would he enter, lowering enough for his master to inspect the tray. An invitation, news, bills. Maximus waited quietly for inspection of each letter being speaking.

"May I ask what is troubling you, m'lord?"

Xavier: He took the mail from the tray with a nod of thanks. Bills went in the To Do pile, the news in the To Read pile, and the invitation in front of him.

"I received a call from an associate of mine in Riyadh. He handles my exports from that part of the world and a few years ago I invested in his business. Ever since, he comes to me with any and all business ideas he comes up with hoping I'll invest."

Maximus: "Not very keen, m'lord?" Given the strain around his eyes, and the massage of his temples. As much as he wanted to ask about the invitation, he refrained, placing the tray under his arm.

"Will that be all?"

Xavier: "I was, once upon a time, when the ideas actually bore fruit and effort was put into ensuring so. Now the ideas become more harebrained with every passing year, but he never presents them that way." Xavier grabbed his letter opener. "He makes each one sound more grand than the last, never wants to take no for an answer. If I were alive he'd have taken years off my life by now."

He opened the invitation, scanned it briefly. "Speaking of grand."

Maximus: Maximus wondered what sort of ideas this man had, and silently tickled at the idea of Xavier's irritation with anything so far from serious. Something rather human to stir things.

"A party, this time of year?"

Xavier: "It would appear so. An exhibition of classical art to be followed by an auction. It's being hosted by Haskell, that insufferable bon vivant we met in Los Angeles. You know the one. Old, old money banker who sold me the chandelier in the drawing room some time ago."

Maximus: He remembered. The man had leather for skin, and glasses far too thick. The way he stared, as though right through and beyond. He didn't much care for him.

"Do you wish to accept?"

Xavier: Xavier sighed and considered for a moment. Did he want to endure an entire evening listening to that dandy boast and hold court?

"Not particularly." He smiled. "But I do wish to avail myself of the contents of Haskell's wine cellar."

Maximus: "You do enjoy playing with fire at every opportunity." Bold words for eyes submissive to the ground.

Xavier: He chuckled. "It's Haskell who's playing with fire by sending this invitation. He knows damn well he squeezed me for every cent he could for that chandelier. No doubt he's hoping I'll part with several hundred more of my dollars on this little auction of his."

Maximus: "May I ask what the auction is for? Does the invitation say?"

Xavier: The invitation was consulted. "He claimed the proceeds will benefit the hospital but that is a damnable lie. The hospital will see a fraction of the proceeds, if that, and the rest will go into Haskell's pocket. How do you think he's managed to afford that ridiculous mansion?"

Maximus: This made his butler frown. "I see. Then I will not waste energy encouraging your presence."

Xavier: He grinned. "Would you like to go to Los Angeles? We can steal Haskell's wine, give a bigger donation to the hospital to spite him, and go to the pictures. There's nothing quite like going to the pictures in Hollywood."

Maximus: "In all my years, I can't recall having ever been." And his first experience would be with Xavier. He very much liked the idea, but these were duty hours, so his smile was that of poise.

"You had me at donation, m'lord."

2:54 AM] Xavier: "Excellent!" Xavier took the RSVP card out of the envelope and reached for his pen to fill it out. "Please see that this gets returned and find me the name of the lowest quality vineyard in the state."

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord." The tray was lowered for the invitation's return. He didn't expect to see the fruits of this labor. Only to hear about the fruition of his schemes, and he looked forward to such tales.

"I would like to ask your opinion on something as well, if you have a moment to spare."

Xavier: "Please, by all means." Xavier was in considerably better spirits than he'd been a few minutes ago and it showed clearly in his expression in demeanor. All the annoyance had turned to warmth and welcome, and both were directed at the beautiful man before him.

Maximus: "I apologize for not inquiring sooner, but, do you have a preference towards wild game?"

Xavier: “I don’t favor any particular type but I’ve always enjoyed venison.”

Maximus: "Very good, m'lord. Will that be all?"

Xavier: "Yes, darling, thank you. Bring me the name of that vineyard as soon as possible, preferably before the party."

Maximus: The darling caught him off guard so early in the morning. He blinked, but offered nothing of his thoughts physically. A bow of obedience, and he turned from the room. Wild game, he decided, would be served for lunch. Something elegant, of course, but unusual. It was time for a split of body. Cooking, research, and to tend the garden.

Xavier: Xavier smiled at Maximus' retreating back until he was out of sight before turning his attention to the mail. What needed reading was read, what needed paying was paid, and a letter was written to a certain associate telling him in no uncertain terms that Xavier's patience for harebrained schemes had been completely exhausted.

He gathered everything up and went to put it with the rest of the mail. And maybe look for Maximus.

Maximus: One of those he sought was in the kitchen chopping carrots and celery. The usual mise en place accompanying a French inspired dish. Another duplicate with rolled sleeves visible from the kitchen window, tending the garden pulling weeds.

The real Maximus Fairchild was in his modest office. Research, as commanded, with the phone to his ear.

Xavier: Xavier smiled as he spotted each of his butler’s shadows, not surprised to see them. When Maximus had a pressing task he always preferred to attend to it personally, like the little project Xavier had given him.

The question now was, did he watch the shadow cooking or the one gardening?

A few moments to decide and he was stepping into the kitchen.

“Hello, my dear,” he greeted, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Would you mind some company?”

Maximus: The duplicate looked up from his scrutinized knife. Almost the same man. Absent voice, but not expression. Free by a margin to smile as though off duty.

Maximus #2 pointed to a large bowl by the long sink. A skinned hare, fresh from market before Xavier opened his eyes that morning.

Xavier: “Such a beautiful smile,” he said, barely resisting the urge to kiss it before walking over to the sink.

“Ah, this explains the question about wild game. It appears we’re to have a very excellent lunch indeed.”

Maximus: Still as modest as the original. This Maximus paused, basked a moment in praise before pushing it aside with scolding eyes.

Xavier: Xavier laughed softly. “I’ll behave, you have my word. I’m simply here to observe. You’re miles more alluring than anything I have on my desk.”

Maximus: Even a mimicry with base faculties was enough of a truth to bristle at such flattery. He pointed in the direction of the office.

Xavier: “Very well, I’ll leave you to your work.” Beautiful shadow of my beautiful Maximus.

He tamped down another urge, this time to brush his lips against the shadow’s cheek, and went to knock on Maximus’ door.

1:10 PM] Maximus: The office was modest, despite encouragement of his master. Decorated with a framed original photograph of the estate on the east wall, and a portrait of a mother and child found in the attic on the east. Nothing personal. Despite budding intimacy, doubt lingered whether or not a Fairchild or Berti might be neatly displayed in the upcoming months, years.

Maximus looked up from a simple brown book, telephone handset returned as he stood.

"Yes, m'lord?"

Xavier: Xavier leaned against the doorframe and smiled softly. At Maximus, at the simple decor, at the phone and the book.

What he wanted to say was, we’ve been apart for an hour and I missed you. I feel...needy for your company today and I’m not quite sure why. I want you to set work aside for the day and come sit in my lap where I can kiss and hold you. I want you to smile at me, talk to me in your soft, gentle way. I want to see the blush on your cheeks when I compliment you. I want you to ask me for the moon and I want to get it for you. I want you to feel needy for me, too.

What he said was, “How is your search coming?”

Maximus: His butler could only decipher so much, but that long stare did something to his insides. The room was suddenly too warm.

"The list is nearly complete. Two more calls to make. A budding vineyard to the south gave interest to inquiry. I thought it might be worth your investment, or ill-considered to neglect informing you."

Xavier: He nodded, and tramped down his third urge in as many minutes. “That was good thought. A budding vineyard might be exactly what I’m looking for, or a worthy investment as you said.” Another nod. “Excellent work, thank you. I’ll leave you to it.”

Maximus: Where Maximus should have bowed his head and returned to his seat, he lingered.

"Is there something else I might do for you? Or... one of them?"

Xavier: Xavier shook his head. “No, thank you, I’m...I’m fine. I might take a short drive before lunch.”

Maximus: "As you so often remind me, I am more than your servant. I am your assistant. Allow me to be concerned for a moment, and serve you as my choosing."

Xavier: Maximus was offered another smile. “I’ll allow you, and I appreciate your concern. I suppose I’m simply in a restless mood this morning.”

Maximus: "Perhaps, instead of a drive... a walk?"

Xavier: “Perhaps that’s a better idea. Would you—?”

Maximus: "I would love to accompany you."

Xavier: He offered his arm. “Around the garden?”

Maximus: "I am off duty in the meantime?"

Xavier: Xavier nodded. “Yes. For the walk, and perhaps to join me for lunch?”

Maximus: Such proposal prevented the removal of his watch. Lunch was nowhere near finished; neither were monotonous chores worthy of his duplicates. His hand came away from his wrist.

"Delighted." His first undressed smile of the day.

Xavier: That smile made him feel like a drowning man being given breath again.

He returned it in kind. “Marvelous. Come, let’s get some fresh air.”

Maximus: Papers were quickly straightened. Pen used as a bookmark for the phone book and set aside. Off duty, he told himself. His own idea, he repeated. He didn't know what to do with his hands. A coat? Loosen his tie? Nothing seemed more appropriate than consistency.

"Just the garden?"

Xavier: “The garden, the grounds. Perhaps the woods. We’ll see where our feet carry us. It’s a lovely day; we ought to enjoy as much of it as we can.”

Maximus: Seemed fanciful, but as he'd come to learn, not so unlike this young demon.

No coat, only a change of shoes before holding the door. Some standards would not shake. The garden had expanded since winter. Herbs dominated much of the landscape leading to the house. Roses and shrubs lining the walk towards the various statues. Tomatoes and other less visually stimulating like were out of sight by design.

"If I were to ask you to spill your thoughts, would you?"

Xavier: It was as proper as an English garden could be. Tea roses, winding paths, statues, vegetables, a fountain. It was what the manor deserved after so many years of neglect.

“Just now I’m thinking what a beautiful job you’ve done out here.”

Maximus: Not what he'd expected, but he would take it. "These were your choices." For the most part. The flowers, with the exception of tenderly minded magnolias.

Xavier: "And you took those selections and created a garden worthy of the estate it surrounds. You should be very proud, Maximus."

Maximus: "That's the word I'm looking for," he smiled. "I'd like to hear more of your thoughts, if you'd allow me."

Xavier: "I'm also wondering how long it will take Haskell to realize his wine collection is worthless after I replace all the wine with whatever vineyard is chosen for the deception."

Maximus: "Rather than leaving his stock barren, your sense of humor is to replace with inferior. As you do artistic masterpieces."

Xavier: Xavier grinned. "Indeed. And like with artistic masterpieces, they will receive a better home and proper appreciation. Haskell, on the other hand, will be humiliated in front of those whose coattails he seeks to ride and will have an absolute conniption thinking he essentially tossed thousands of dollars down a hole."

Maximus: Is he really deserving of such punishment, he thought. He felt it best not to ask. Despite the careful distance their relationship had crossed, Xavier was still master. Trust was a fickle creature. It was of little concern; he didn't actually care.

"You spoke to my copies again today."

Xavier: This particular punishment was merely intended to knock Howard Haskell down a few pegs and back to where he rightfully belonged. There was nothing Xavier hated so much as hubris that hadn't been earned.

He nodded, smile still in place. "I did, yes. I always speak to them when I see them."

Maximus: "I'm not sure I understand your reasoning. They offer little." They were tools, nothing more in his belief, which made Xavier's insistence fascinating and confounding.

Xavier: "They offer more than meets the eye." More than once, talking to Maximus' shadows offered the chance to see that beautiful smile without a hint of reservation.

Maximus: He saw each and every one-sided conversation. With every broken spell, each memory of his duplicates became his own. What was once used as a torment, now became a source of entertainment.

"You could always speak to me, if you need an ear."

Xavier: His smile gentled. "Thank you," he said softly. "I sincerely appreciate it. I don't often find myself having that need, but when I do...thank you, Maximus. For the offer and...for walking with me."

Maximus: "It's less out of obligation than you might think."

Xavier: "At the risk of flattering myself, I don't think it's out of obligation at all."

Maximus: "You've taken a great risk. Haskell would be impressed."

Xavier: Xavier chuckled. "Haskell's risks aren't really risks. They're calculated to appear that way."

Maximus: "Yours are true?"

Xavier: He nodded. "There was a very good chance coming with me and lending me an ear was due to a sense of obligation."

Maximus: "We still walk that fine line of mystery."

Xavier: “We do indeed. And I take great risks and hope for the best.”

Maximus: "You risk believing there is no risk," he smiled.

Xavier: “Oh believe me, I could never. It’s always very present in my mind.”

Maximus: He wanted an elaboration, but would not ask.

"Are you feeling better now?"

Xavier: “Much better, yes. You’re a very great help.”

Maximus: "You're very generous as usual, Xavier."

Xavier: Hearing his name from Maximus’ lips brought a rush of such affection it was a wonder he didn’t pull the man into his arms without a second thought.

“It’s sincere. Talking to you makes my mind feel quieter, more calm.”

Maximus: "I'm...honored." But what he wanted to ask was why, and how, as he felt he offered nothing significant.

Xavier: Xavier turned to study his companion for a moment. “May I be so bold as to say you’re also...curious?”

Maximus: "I'm curious?"

1:57 AM] Xavier: “About why you calm my mind. It feels as though you want to ask me something.”

Maximus: You cannot read my mind, he reminded himself. "I have a readable face." This much was honest.

Xavier: “You do, but it’s more than that. We have a bond. We’re...in tune with each other.”

Maximus: "You think so?"

Xavier: “I do. I can feel it when I’m near you and when we’re apart, when we’re speaking or sitting in silence.”

Maximus: "That's perhaps the bond of servitude." A jest, but his smile was meek. One might regard as shy.

Xavier: Xavier simply returned the smile and offered Maximus his hand. It was fine if he didn’t take it; but Xavier felt the need to offer it.

Maximus: The hand was given a second of regard before taking. Not because this was his master, but because he wanted to. He wondered if Xavier truly understood.

Xavier: Perhaps Xavier could never fully understand, but he understood that this was a man who was rightfully cautious, who'd been hurt in unimaginable ways, and still accepted his hand.

He brought it to his lips and placed a delicate kiss on Maximus' knuckles.

Maximus: Maximus watched against his will. This was his hand being lovingly cared for, and those were Xavier's lips. There was no greater affection, and after months of such treatment, he was sure more than anything else that Xavier knew.

"It...smells like wood polish. Forgive me."

Xavier: “The wood polish you use smells like lemons. I’ve nothing to forgive.” He offered another kiss, this time to Maximus’ palm.

Maximus: Air demanded to leave his lungs in one warm escape. The emptiness felt at the bottom of his ribs made him feel more alive. Pain often did in the most unpleasant times, but in the moment, only made him more aware of Xavier's presence.

"How far shall we walk?"

Xavier: He was starting to get a decent gauge of the reverence and meaning this sort of affection had for Maximus. All the more reason for Xavier to offer as much as possible, when possible. "Perhaps to the edge of the estate and back? I was thinking that perhaps you'd like to have lunch in the garden. It really is a lovely day, it'd be a shame not to enjoy it as much as we can."

Maximus: Xavier was a painting. Spoke like a gentleman, poised, tailored like a gentleman, but months together he began to see the forgery. What was beneath was less impressionist and more abstract. At the moment it was lovely.

"Would stewed hare be inappropriate for a garden lunch? I'll see to an alteration. Something lighter."

Xavier: "We rule all that we survey, my dear." He smiled. "We get to decide what is appropriate. And from what preparations I could see in the kitchen, I'm very much looking forward to that stewed hare."

Maximus: "It is an hour until lunch. To the edge of the property and back?"

Xavier: Xavier nodded. "To the edge and back. Tell me, do you think there's a good spot for some sort of garden folly or a gazebo?"

Maximus: "Certainly. This small clearing here," he pointed where the sun intended to set, just shy of the woods. "It's away from the house, but not far from the garden. Leaves the expanse of the lawn to admire, without having to see the driveway."

Xavier: Xavier considered for a moment and nodded. "You're right," he said with a smile. "That's the perfect place for it. Although looking at it, a folly seems like a much better use of the space than a gazebo. Something that wisteria or perhaps star jasmine can climb."

Maximus: "I think jasmine is an excellent idea. I'll begin the necessary arrangements. There, you think?" He pointed to where the garden ended shy of the woods, a corner of sorts. Even still, despite the calm, he sometimes had to correct his speech. No 'm'lord' here. He wondered if he would ever accept Xavier's supposed intention.

Xavier: “Let’s get a closer look.”

Xavier led Maximus over to the spot, walking around and picturing the potential structure and how it would look from the windows.

“Yes, this is the perfect place. Stone and wrought iron, I think, something very intricate. I trust you to find the perfect craftspeople.”

Maximus: "You're certain of iron?"

Xavier: “I rather like the idea of the sun casting filigreed shadows on the stone beneath. Do you have another material in mind?”

Maximus: "I don't want you to burn yourself. If perhaps it were painted?"

Xavier: "Ah, yes, you're right. For both our sakes, we shall have the iron painted black."

Maximus: "Are you efficient with drawing? Something I could show a contractor."

Xavier: “Efficient enough to give a contractor a decent idea of what I’m looking for. I might have to peruse my library for some inspiration.”

Maximus: "Very good." M'lord. "Something that will feel as timeless as the estate itself. Perhaps a winding stone walkway?"

Xavier: “I do like the idea of a walkway leading up to the structure. Perhaps with ornamental plants surrounding it.”

Maximus: "I'll see to it as well."

Xavier: “What would you like to plant along the path?”

Maximus: Maximus looked up, considering the shade. "I'm no expert on the subject, but, I believe leaving color to the garden here," he pointed back, "leaves less competition for the eye. Ferns, or something equally lush. The very least, creeping thyme."

Xavier: "Some ferns would look rather nice. The thyme as well. We shall see which one suits better when we choose the stone for the walkway." He thought for a moment. "If memory serves, there's an excellent stone mason in Los Angeles."

Maximus: Maximus frowned but nodded. Eyes thoughtful. "If I may be so bold, I find myself confused every instance it seems my opinions are valued."

Xavier: Xavier offered a smile. “Is it still so foreign after we’ve set this house to rights together?”

Maximus: "I've been made to do many things by various masters, but never trusted with an estate."

Xavier: “I trust you implicitly with this estate, Maximus. Not to mention my meals and my wardrobe.”

Maximus: "I couldn't poison your food if I wanted to," he smiled.

Xavier: “With your cooking? It’d be worth it.”

Maximus: "Your praise borders on cloying, Master Xavier."

Xavier: He chuckled. “I’d apologize if I didn’t think very highly of your cooking. And you know I’m a man who appreciates good food.”

Maximus: "I don't expect apologies when your words hold meaning to you."

Xavier: "They do." He found himself kissing Maximus' hand again. "I sincerely appreciate and value your opinions. Your input is something I treasure."

Maximus: Their pace slowed as Xavier indulged himself. Moments like this, words were too elusive to pluck from the air. Just emotion. Enticed by self-imposed mystery, but stayed by caution. Rarely was something hidden behind his eyes, but Maximus expected something. He would be foolish not to.

Flowery words, he told himself. Flattery from a charming demon. He should have been made at the crossroads.

"I'm honored."

Xavier: Perhaps he would be foolish not to, but the only thing behind Xavier's eyes was affection. Sincere, abiding affection.

"And I'm honored that you feel comfortable enough to give your input, even if it confuses you when it's taken to heart."

Maximus: He didn't want to spoil things by saying refusal was smaller than a crawlspace. Instead, he smiled, content to his silence and what his expression could offer.

Xavier: As staying on this subject would only serve to make Maximus uncomfortable, Xavier chose to move on for now.

"This is going to look lovely when it's finished. As will the road to the house when the wildflowers bloom."

Maximus: "You're in favor of a manicured lawn, or would you be interested in ground cover flowers?"

Xavier: "I'm in favor of both, though both have their place. I quite like the lawn surrounding the estate but lawn looks out of place on the roadside."

Maximus: "Very French," he smiled. "I agree, both have their place. I'm in favor of the backyard being as lush as we intend."

Xavier: “It will be when we’re done with it, we’ll put Versailles to shame. I rather like the idea of having a couple more statutes as well.”

Maximus: "There is enough space for a hedge maze as well, if your desire is a statement."

Xavier: “It’s tempting,” he chuckled. “But the sight of the woods beyond the garden is impossible to give up. Although some hedges would look nice bordering the drive.”

Maximus: "We could begin the drive with an iron gate, line the drive with hedges or perhaps roses. Something to withstand the drastic seasons."

Xavier: Xavier pictured the final result and smiled. “Perfect. This estate will be grand in every sense of the phrase.”

Maximus: "And when... we have finished, do you intend to throw a grand party celebrating your success?"

Xavier: "This wouldn't be much of a sanctuary if I did that. Perhaps we could have Massimo and his family for dinner. I only trust him with the location of this house."

Maximus: This surprised his servant, studying his profile as they slowly walked, curious what in particular made this home a sanctuary. What was intended for this house.

"I see. Something in New York, perhaps. You should celebrate your achievement."

Xavier: Xavier smiled. “A more private celebration seems more appealing, although perhaps that’s the hermit in me. I always manage to wander off on my own at parties.”

Maximus: "More business deals, wine and beautiful people."

Xavier: You’re the only beautiful people I need, Xavier thought to himself.

“Deals aren’t quite enticing enough for a celebration. Are you opposed to a small dinner party with Massimo’s family?”

Maximus: "I will serve whomever you choose to bring," Maximus said, watching the woods towards the abandoned house.

Xavier: "Perhaps we can also invite my staff at the warehouse. Everyone has been thoroughly vetted and I trust them all. They're good people."

Maximus: "If they can make the travel," he felt the need to point out.

Xavier: “Easily taken care of. I can make travel arrangements for them.”

Maximus: "Very elaborate. I believe my spell will be in order."

Xavier: "Or, there is an alternative."

9:22 PM] Maximus: Maximus slowed and studied the man by his side, curious but unwilling to guess.

Xavier: “We could hire waitstaff for the evening, which would allow you to enjoy the celebration freely.”

Maximus: "Would that not be seen as inappropriate of your assistant to dine as equal?"

Xavier: “Massimo is incredibly fond of you and my employees wouldn’t dare cause such offense.”

Maximus: "I don't believe they would dare such disrespect to you in person, but perhaps it is not in good taste." He watched Xavier a moment. "If I may be so bold to speak my mind this way."

Xavier: Xavier smiled. "Of course you may. And if you truly do not wish to attend a celebration as a guest, you don't have to. I only ask that if you decide against it, it be because you truly wish to attend in your capacity as butler."

Maximus: "I think it's the most appropriate road in which to walk... in public." Their relationship was still so young. Still too soon to openly reveal anything more than professionalism. It was safe.

Xavier: "As you wish, my dear." It didn't feel right to take sole credit for the complete transformation of the estate, but it would feel worse to push Maximus in a way he wasn't ready for.

"It will be a small celebration but grand nonetheless."

Maximus: Finally, he could breathe. For a moment he was concerned, but Xavier's response was as consistent as day one.

"I look forward to assisting in its assembly."

Xavier: "You'll be instrumental in its success. That being said, would you like me to hire waitstaff to assist you for the evening?"

Maximus: "Hire, or borrow from another?"

Xavier: "Hire and thoroughly vet."

Maximus: "By your will. Eight hands are better than six."

Xavier: "Anything at all you need when the time comes, please ask. No expense will be spared."

Maximus: "I wouldn't insult your celebration by offering cheap wine," he smiled.

Xavier: "You couldn't insult my celebration, full stop. Outwardly it might be mine, but privately, it's ours."

Maximus: "That's very kind," said Maximus. He would have worried for repeating himself if not for being so relaxed. Too eased, his equals might argue.

Silence would be sensible for several meters.

Xavier: Xavier didn't mind the silence. During his time with Maximus, he'd come to recognize the different types he affected at different moments. Some silences were companionable, some filled with work and distractions, and others, like this one, affected when there was a fear that too much had been shared. Not always in words, but in manner.

It almost came as a surprise when they reached the edge of the property. Xavier hadn't realized he'd been lost in thought. "Ready to head back, darling?"

Maximus: Seemed the moment had passed. For now. He wouldn't linger on what he had felt and why. Not here in his master's presence.

"I will see to lunch, prep for dining outside, if the idea still appeals."

Xavier: "It does," he said with a nod, sighing contentedly. "I shall go down to the cellar and select a good wine to accompany our meal. All game requires a fine wine."

Maximus: He would dare offer a suggestion. "A bold red, perhaps?"

Xavier: Xavier beamed in approval. "Precisely what I was thinking. We shall lunch like royalty today, my dear."

Maximus: "If there is anything one of my shadows can assist you with, please. You will be quite bored observing my assemblage of lunch."

Xavier: "Actually, now that we're going to be coming into a great deal of wine, some reorganization of the cellar is in order. I'd like to see how much spare room we have."

Maximus: "It is one of the last areas of the house left virtually untouched." He wanted to be there to assist, but preparing the table outside yielded a more intimate future.

Xavier: "And a significant project because of it. I will take one of your shadows down to get a proper lay of the land and we shall discuss over lunch."

Maximus: I shall see you then, he thought, offering nothing more in response than a gentle smile.

Xavier: Xavier was going to take that smile as approval of the plan, and give one in return.

“Very well, my dear. I’ll be down in the cellar. May I kiss your hand again, before you return to duty?”

Maximus: "Am I to return to duty before lunch?" Asked carefully. A timid offering of what could be.

Xavier: He had put forth a great deal of effort to keep his face from smiling too excitedly. Such a careful question could only be met with gentleness.

“I think not,” Xavier murmured. “After lunch will be quite soon enough.”

Maximus: His smile was not quite what Xavier felt. Bedded down as forcefully as Xavier's efforts. "As you wish."

Xavier: “In that case...” He turned to fully face Maximus. “May I kiss you, darling?”

Maximus: He dared look his master in the eyes. There was no harm here. Those eyes, as they had always been, were a safe place.

"You may," said softly.

Xavier: Those eyes were brimming with affection as Xavier gently cradled Maxmius’ face and leaned in to kiss him like he’d wanted to do all day. Feeling and tasting this beautiful man was like satisfying a craving.

Maximus: Every kiss felt the same. Something less than fear and more than elation. Trust deserved but fragile. His lips felt impossibly warm, and he welcomed them with an inaudible sigh. His hands didn't know what to do, other than remain useless at his sides.

Xavier: Xavier could only hope that the day would come when Maximus felt comfortable enough to reach for him, to touch him as much and as long as he wanted without a second thought. He could only hope that someday Maximus would feel comfortable enough to do a lot of things.

Until then Xavier was more than happy to take the lead. They were dancing the world's gentlest, most deliberate waltz, each move fraught with meaning. Each kiss he was allowed was treasured. He took only a little bit at a time, savoring before coming back for more. Never pushing, never demanding.

"Beautiful," he whispered, caressing Maximus' face.

Maximus: Like a dream he was sure wakefulness would steal with cold hateful hands. He was certain this was false. Not any moment, but someday. For now he could lean into the strength of Xavier's stance and welcome his warm merciful hands. Offer a deepening of his affections as his master-in-name caressed his pale face. Reach timidly to place his hand over Xavier's in solidarity.

Xavier: There had been moments when they first began this delicate relationship where Xavier had wondered if he had the strength of will to be gentle, to tamp down his desires and keep from take, take, taking. But he'd soon discovered that when it came to Maximus Fairchild, being gentle was the easiest thing in the world. It came as easy as breathing, and Xavier had slowly begun to realize that the only thing he had to tamp down was the urge to bombard Maximus with his affection a thousand times a day.

He had his moments, of course, he was only human--or had been at one point. But this here? That little touch, the subtle deepening of a kiss? Fuck, it was what he lived for.

Beautiful, he thought again, letting himself stretch the kiss a few more long, lingering moments before regrettably pulling away.

Maximus: Parting had become a bittersweet endeavor. He realized in this moment, taking a step back from Xavier's handsome figure, that their relationship was akin to an arranged marriage, more than that of master and slave. He would rather believe that than the truth. Wondered if in some measure Xavier felt the same. A fantasy which would live in his head as comfort, until the day it would no longer provide sustenance.

"A shadow will be with you shortly."

Xavier: He had to allow himself one final stroke of Maximus' cheek. Just a single one to sustain him until they sat down to eat.

"Very well," he said softly, smiling as he let his hands fall away. "I'll await them down in the cellar." And select one of his best bottles for their meal.

With that fond smile still lighting his face, Xavier started back toward the house.

#Playing with Fire chapter #maximusfairchild

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flourchildwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Witch, Please! Fictober 2019 (22/31)

A multi-fandom Fictober prompt compilation. Your wish is my command, but be careful what you ask for. You just might get it.

Prompt: “Academia” from Writetober 2019 Prompt List

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Relationship/Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Yaoyorozu Momo

Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Quirks

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Word Count: 2,163 words

Read on AO3

Coach All-Might often lectured on the importance of momentum, the desirable quality of motion, which makes a player hard to stop. But the textbook definition did the concept little justice. Over the past two months, Momo had learned that teams built momentum better than individual players. And once acquired, the U.A. heroes pushed their collective energy to the max with smiles plastered across their faces, win or lose.

As her team’s defensive starters lined up on the 20-yard line, Momo’s skin erupted in gooseflesh. It was third down, a passing play no doubt, and all eyes were drawn to the dynamic line up of opposites in the tight end and cornerback positions -- Shiketsu High School’s Inasa Yoarashi and U.A. High’s Shouto Todoroki.

Of course, Todoroki had not started as a cornerback, not until after Coach All-Might had shaken up the lineup last Fall, but Momo wouldn’t have known that by the way he’d dominated the field on defense. Shouto read an opponent’s intentions as if he’d written their playbooks. Cold stone still one minute and hot in pursuit of an interception the next, he’d earned his nickname, IcyHot, the hard way.

A hush descended over the crowd as the play clock began its countdown. Even the cheerleader’s chats quieted in favor of rustling pom-poms and hushed murmurs of anticipation. From the sidelines, Momo held her breath, tugging nervously on the collar of her official polo. As she watched Todoroki, her fingers dipped to stroke the white embroidery that showcased her name and position, Momo Yaoyorozu, Assistant Equipment Manager, U.A. High Heroes Football Team.

Yet, as much as Momo honed in on her favorite cornerback, Shouto's attention was fixed on Inasa.

The boy with bright white and red hair hadn’t been asked to cover the powerhouse tight end, but he did so almost on instinct. U.A.’s defensive line adjusted, players zipping back and forth behind the line of scrimmage, as Shiketsu’s offense arranged and rearranged itself. Shotuo stayed with Inasa, looking for the split-second tell he’d uncovered after watching endless hours film, the one he had whispered in Momo’s ear while she’d helped him into his pads.

As Shiketsu’s quarterback snapped the ball, Shouto’s left eye narrowed, and Momo remembered to breathe, realizing that Todoroki must have found what he was looking for. The cornerback didn’t stop to watch the center snap the ball. He was already darting deep downfield, showcasing athleticism with wide, strong strides as Insa ran an innocuous out route.

But then the tide turned, and Seiji Shishikura made a daring throw from within the collapsing walls of the pocket. The ball headed for Inasa, now poised to catch it near the five-yard line, an inevitable touchdown until... Shouto Todoroki snatched the coveted pigskin out of midair, and through the audience’s collective gasp, Momo swore she heard five incendiary words mumbled in Inasa’s direction before Shouto darted toward Shiketsu’s endzone.

“I’ll be taking that now.”

The crowd roared. Mina Ashido and Toru Hagakure directed the excitement with synchronized jumps and flicks of their pom-poms, The home side of the stadium reveled in their school’s preferred chant -- “Plus Ultra! Plus Ultra!”

Todoroki went down near Shiketsu’s 15-yard line, tackled by a running back whose blond hair spilled out of his helmet. As Shouto fell, Momo tensed again. She felt her heartbeat in her throat but managed to relax when Shouto stood, calmly handing the football to the referee. Unfazed, he jogged toward their sideline, making intense eye contact with his team’s assistant equipment manager.

U.A. had the momentum once again, and the offense took advantage of it. The quarterback, Izuku Midoria, lead the heroes to a resounding homecoming victory over the Shiketsu Captains with the broadest smile on his face.

...

A year ago, Momo could hardly have imagined having more than a handful of friends over after the homecoming game, but now, three-quarters of the football team, half of the cheerleading squad and nearly the entire band was packed into her father’s McMansion. Though Momo had initially scoffed at the idea of beefing up her college applications by serving as assistant equipment manager of the football team, she had to admit that Mr. Aizawa’s advice had been spot on. Not only had she taken initiative by inserting herself into a male-dominated sport, but wallflower Momo had also managed made new friends in her junior year of high school -- a stupendous feat if ever there was one.

And as it turned out, neither Momo’s parents nor her best friend, Kyoka, minded the new additions in their loved one’s life. In fact, no sooner than Momo had asked her father if a small get together after the homecoming game was permissible than he had suddenly announced a burning desire to visit a bed and breakfast with his fiancee that same Friday night. Momo’s mother would check in the following morning, of course, and (for better or worse) Kyoka set up the sound system and arranged for a few kegs of weak beer.

An hour into the party, Momo looked around with astonishment. Everywhere she turned, a different person was smiling back at her, neither poking fun or laughing at her offbeat sense of style. Everyone she talked to responded with words of thanks and promises to be careful with the many valuables scattered throughout the decadent home. The uneasy feeling in Momo’s stomach settled as she sipped a noxious concoction Kyoka called jungle juice.

All felt right with the world. Except…

“Everything ok, Mo?” Kyoka asked, troubled by the way her best friend’s eyebrows were suddenly furrowed.

“Oh, yes,” Momo responded brightly. “I’m just a little overwhelmed by the crowd. Can you watch things while I step out for a sec?”

Kyoka nodded in reply, the fringe of the asymmetrical bob bounced with her dangling earrings.

“Sure thing, Mo.”

Up the steps and through the second level’s main hall, Momo traveled, weaving her way through classmates and kissing couples corralled in dark corners. She found her room unoccupied and breathed a sigh of relief as the door shut behind her with a comforting click. The young woman sat down at her desk and stared out the window. With a fond expression, she watched Bakugo and Kirishima toss a football back and forth.

It had always been a longshot, to be sure. When Momo had invited Todoroki to her party, she’d realized that his father rarely let him attend social events, not even school-sponsored dances or festivals. In fact, Shouto and Momo had attended the same school since first grade and had only become acquainted recently courtesy of a minor equipment malfunction -- a freak accident his father hadn’t hesitated to blow out of proportion.

Enji Todoroki was well-known as severe and obsessive, and perhaps Momo had made unfair assumptions about his son based on that knowledge. But soon, the mystery of IcyHot the football star had unraveled like fine thread in her nimble hands, and Momo found herself reconsidering everything she knew about Shouto Todoroki. Countless conversations later, the young woman didn’t think it was unfair to say that he was kind despite his quiet nature and thoughtful both on and off the football field.

Momo didn’t have to help him take off his pads and ice his bumps and bruises after games, but she did so religiously with a reverence she reserved for, well, nothing else. In return, Shouto taught Momo about football, explaining both general concepts and, eventually, the finer points of the game. And it all felt like it was building toward something more, except there was never an opportunity to...

“Yaoyorozu?”

Momo’s chest tightened as she heard a familiar, gravelly voice. She turned to find the source of the sound, hardly believing her eyes. There he stood, an impressive sight, though awkward, in khaki pants and a white polo shirt. Taut muscles fought against the thin cotton, and Momo fingers grasped the folds of her pale pink maxi skirt. Her high top converses tilted inward, toes curling within as she thought about how he sighed when she pressed warm compresses against his sore muscles.

Would it be completely inappropriate to trace the edges of the burn mark over his left eye?

Most likely, yes. But that didn’t stop Momo from thinking about it.

“You came!” she exclaimed, rising from the chair to greet the boy she definitely had not fantasized about in this very room. Momo gripped the nearest post of her bed to steady herself. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Jirou said you’d be up here. Can I come in?”

“Of course. Have a seat.”

Warily, Shouto entered the room, softly closing the door behind him. He leaned against the endboard of Momo’s 4-poster bed and looked around expectedly.

“Your house is-”

“An eyesore,” she interrupted. “I know. My mom took all the taste in their divorce. Dad doesn’t know the meaning of understated, but it’s home.”

“I wasn’t going to say ‘eyesore,’” Shouto asserted, though Momo noticed he didn’t disagree. “Have your parents been divorced for long?”

Momo nodded. “Since middle school.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. They’re much better off as friends, especially now that dad is engaged and mom’s remarried. I like my stepmoms a lot.”

At that, Shouto stifled a small chuckle.

“What?” Momo asked.

“I was wondering if your dad’s fiancee has better taste.”

“Afraid not,” Momo laughed. “I don’t think she’s ever met a fleur de lis she didn’t like, but by the time they get married, I’ll be out of here.”

“Damn,” Shouto added in mock disappointment, “I was so looking forward to the wedding pictures, seeing you all dressed up.”

Under the cover of semi-darkness, heat spread to the apples of Momo’s cheeks, and a strange feeling burned in her belly when she spied the green cocktail dress hung over her closet door. Dare she be so bold?

“Well, you could just come to the homecoming dance tomorrow,” she stated, eyes fixed on the plush carpet. “I’ll be taking tickets by the door, but I think I might be able to step away for a dance or two. And I’d like to spend more time with you, talking like this, you know?”

The grin faded slowly from Shouto’s face as his gaze also drifted to an uninteresting patch of carpet. “You know my dad’s strict. If I ask to go, he’ll come up with some conflict. I had to tell him I was watching game film here tonight just to get away.”

Momo tried to pretend she wasn’t disappointed. “Oh… He believed that?”

“The only thing good about my dad’s football fixation is that he assumes everyone else is just as obsessed as he is.”

For a moment, all was silent as the letdown washed over Momo. From the opposite side of her room, she could hear the ornate cuckoo clock ticking, counting the precious seconds she wasted in Todoroki’s presence. However, Momo refused to back down so quickly, not when the stars had aligned so perfectly to grant her this moment. Not when Shouto was in her room at her party, sitting beside her, completely unsupervised, on her bed.

This was Momo's moment. She'd be a fool not to seize it.

“Todoroki, I-”

Whatever words Momo wanted to say were silenced by Shouto’s thumb pressed against her lips. His hand gently cupped the cheek, and she leaned into his warm touch, wary of the mesmerizing mismatched eyes that threatened to steal her senses.

“I’m not very good with my words, Yaoyorozu,” he said in earnest. “But I’d like to ask you if I could...”

“Could what?”

“I mean, if you would be agreeable, I’d like to…”

“Go on.”

Shouto growled in frustration and pressed both hands against the endboard. “Everyone makes this sound so easy,” he groaned. “I never seem to know how to say the thing I mean when I have the chance.”

Momo steeled her nerves as her stomach practically dissolved in a heap of butterflies. It seemed she did dare tonight more than she ever had before.

“Would you like to kiss me, Shouto?”

“God, yes!”

He took his lips to hers with an urgency that Momo could not have anticipated, and the world as she knew it faded away, save the small space the young couple shared. If kisses could talk, this one would have been eloquent. It would have told Momo that he’d always carried a little torch for her, for as long as he could rightly remember while reciting the loveliest verses of poetry known to mankind. But, of course, without words, the liplock was equally pleasant, capped off by a sigh of relief from both sides.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said, forehead pressed against hers.

Momo saw no room to argue but in the interest of full disclosure… “Then why don’t you do it again. Maybe I can figure it out.”

Momo and Shouto’s momentum wasn’t slowing down anytime soon.

A/N: So, for academia, we have my hero academia... without the hero! Yep, it's a quirk-less AU featuring Todomomo (because why not)! I've written a lot of that this month, and I kinda love it. By now, you all know the drill. Feel free to send me pairing requests for particular prompts (Fictober or original) via my tumblr, and if you read something you like, don't hesitate to let me know. Your kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, comments, likes and reblogs make my day!

#virthiefictober #fictober19 #writetober19 #bnha #my hero academia #todomomo #todoroki shouto #yaoyorozu momo #alternate universe #no quirks #high school #academia #flourchildwrites #but she didn't have time to edit

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