#got her a flight to where she was going if at a higher expense than anyone wanted

[technical-magi]

hey fun fact my mom just learned

if an airliner has to cancel a flight and that flight is a layover flight they can just decide to leave you stranded in an airport you weren't even planning on going to in the first place with no support whatsoever

US airplane travel is working exceptionally effectively, so I can see

[travelling-wanderer]

﹒﹒﹒happy birthday

▶It was your birthday today, so you decided to treat yourself and go out to dinner with your friends. Unfortunately for you- the Joker had plans that night too and decided to hijack the restaurant for his own meal after escaping Akrham again. Ordering everyone out, he told you to stay since it was your birthday to give you a gift nobody else had the pleasure of receiving: having dinner with him.

▶ 18+, guns, threats of violence, hostage situation

▶(Any) Joker x gn!reader

▶ Words: 3,848

You were excited to go out to dinner at a nice restaurant for your birthday, despite the rain and darkness that always seemed to be permanent in the city. Finishing up your look, you glanced at your clock and realized you needed to leave! Swiftly grabbing your bag, you put on your jacket and took your umbrella as you practically ran down the two flights of steps and burst through the street level door onto the sidewalk. Opening your umbrella as it poured down, you rushed to the edge of the sidewalk and waved your free hand, hoping to catch a taxi. Luckily, one actually stopped for you- half the time they drive past you, and you hopped in.

Shutting the door, you told the driver the address and he drove through the crowded streets of Gotham without a word. You hated driving here, despite it being arguably safer than walking or public transportation, so you often took taxis to get to where you needed to go. The driver was silent and looking forward, which was a Godsend as most of the time, they would either blabber until you swear your ears would fall off, stare at you the entire time in the mirror, ask you exceedingly creepy and personal questions. People in this city were crazy most of the time since crime was so high, it was corrupt from the inside and out. Many get sent to Arkham Asylum, but there are a few…higher profile people that seem to always escape from there.

One being the Joker. He had just escaped this morning but hadn't made any spectacle of his escape yet. You were scared, sure, but the place you were going to wasn’t on his usual hits. Plus, what are the odds that he would come to the exact restaurant you're going to for your birthday? It wasn’t the highest end in the city, but definitely up there in terms of being expensive and more luxurious. You wanted this birthday to be special, saving up for this since your last birthday because you wanted to have something good happen in this cursed city.

You watched the city go by accompanied by car horns and angry drivers yelling at each other before soon arriving at the restaurant ten minutes later. You paid the fare and exited the car, immediately rushing to the glass door and opening it, finding no use to open your umbrella. You were greeted with warmness and a host that kindly showed you to your table after you told her your name. Some of your friends were already there, and you noticed that just one wasn’t here yet. As soon as you realized that, your phone dinged and you saw a text from him saying he was stuck in traffic. Damn traffic…

“Hey guys!” You slipped into your seat and placed your bag between your legs, happy to see them all. There were seven in total of your group including yourself, however only five of them were here at the moment, leaving an empty seat. He for some reason was always late, whether it was traffic, he lost his keys, or his cat kept biting him. It wasn’t annoying, at this point it was kind of funny that bad luck always prevented him from getting to places on time.

“Where's Larry?” Mia asked as she looked over the menu, not caring enough to look up as she wanted to get her food as fast as possible. She always was someone who was a huge eater, always the hungriest out of everyone.

“He just texted me saying that he got stuck in traffic. You know how he is” You sighed a small smile, knowing this is a doomed city in all capacities. You were glad you didn't face any as you didn't want to be late. There was always something going wrong, whether its traffic, horrible weather, normal criminals causing a shooting, or the infamous villains that always loved to shut down parts of the city.

“Ugh of course! I had to leave super early because the subway got shut down after that attack from the Riddler four days ago. They still haven't reopened my stop! Had to take two cabs to get here” Matteo sighed as his eyes twitched, he relied on the subway to get places since he lived the furthest from anyone and it was the cheapest way to get to places closer to everyone. The Riddler had created a riddle for Batman that wound up being him wanting to bomb the whole subway system because of some stupid shit you couldn’t care to remember. So it’s been fully shut down until they make sure all the bombs or any other dangerous device is gone.

“Well, we can all agree that this city sucks. Buuut, we are here to celebrate ___’s birthday!” Quincy quickly turned the negative into a positive, which made you smile.

“Yeaah happy birthday bitch!” They exclaimed as you laughed, shushing them as some other patrons looked over at the disturbance and foul language. Rolling your eyes, you shushed your friends as they giggled, excited for your birthday just as much as they are. As per the plan, the restaurant was happy to make a special cake for you and keep it in the back until you were done with dinner. You always looked forward to cake, who didn’t?

“Thank you guys really” It wasn't long before the waiter arrived at your table, getting ready to take your order for drinks. However, the sound of gunfire startled you and everyone gasped and cowered in fear. You've managed to avoid crime so far in a miracle in this city, yet you knew that would change. You were equally scared for your life and pissed that your birthday was ruined. What was supposed to be a nice, relaxing dinner with your friends was destroyed by some random low life who probably wanted to steal everyone’s things. You chose this restaurant specifically because it somehow hasn’t been involved in anything shady or had any shootings or robbings in the past.

Men holding guns and wearing clown masks swarmed the place and ordered people to stay sitting. Mia grabbed your hand underneath the table, knowing you're not good in stressful situations. It tried to control your breathing as a gun was shoved on the side of your face, the man yelled at you to not move. Oh God, were you going to die tonight? You knew who these guys were, everyone did- Joker's henchmen- which could only mean…

“My, my, aren't you all good to see me again?” Your gaze switched over to the Joker sauntering through the front door, wearing a smile as he eyed everyone with amusement, adjusting his red bowtie. Never did you think that you would ever see the man himself in person and you couldn’t help feeling almost entranced by him. His appearance was unique, purple suit, face painted white, red painted lips, and bright neon dyed hair. You saw countless pictures of him, who didn’t? But you were a fool to think you would never be involved in someone like the Joker’s reign of terror.

“Now, I thought I should treat myself to a nice meal. The food in Arkham isn’t very good, you see. And I would have made a reservation but that just isn't my style.” It was then his gaze switched over directly to you, causing you to freeze. He was silent as he looked at you up and down, but spending the most time staring at your face. This wasn’t good.

“Now, why is a gun shoved directly in their pretty face?” Joker asked his henchman, clearly not happy with what he did. You were confused for many reasons as the clown prince started making his way towards you.

“To make sure they don't do nothing, boss. Their hand is under the table” He growled, shoving the barrel harder into your head, making you wince. The clown prince raised an eyebrow as he walked over and bent down to look under, clearly able to see that you held nothing but your friend's hand in yours. Huffing, he roughly ripped the gun from your head and cupped your face in his hands gently, rubbing one cheek with his thumb.

“They're just scared of you stupid oaf” He sneered at his henchman in frustration before focusing back on you. “It's ok, my dear, you don't have to be scared. What’s your name?” You hesitantly told him your full name, knowing he would probably be able to track you down anyway without it if you wronged him.

“Such a beautiful name, and you're all dolled up, huh? And are those gifts? Are they for you?” You nodded as a few tears slipped from your eyes, terrified that the most dangerous criminal in Gotham had completely put his attention on you and that he was currently holding your face in his hands.

“Is it your birthday, my dear?” You nodded another yes, glancing over to your friends as you gripped Mia's hand even tighter. He let go of your face and smiled wide, standing up and grabbing your hands, yanking you up from your chair and ripping your hand from your friends as he twirled you.

“Well happy birthday!” You were stopped and Joker was holding your waist as you breathed heavily from anxiety, what was happening? Why was he holding you so close? What caused this sudden interest in you out of everyone else? It couldn’t be just from physical attraction alone, could it?

“Do you have a cake?” Gulping, you gathered your response and tried to not to sound pathetic. Sounding weak in front of the Joker would not be good, it would mean you would be seen as gullible, malleable, something the Joker would take advantage of.

“Yes, it’s in the kitchen. We- it was going to be brought out after dinner” Your voice was shaky as you looked over at your friends, you pleaded with them in your eyes to comply, to not act out in any way in fear of them getting hurt. Your birthday may have been ruined, but you didn’t want it to get worse.

“Well, let’s bring it out after dinner then! It shall be a double celebration today! Just the two of us” Wait. He was keeping you here? To have dinner with you? Your head was swimming as Joker continued to hold you, the yells of his henchman demanding everyone to get out meant your friends would be gone too.

“No! I'm not leaving them!” Mia yelled as your other friends joined them, too scared to even go near the Joker, but not wanting to leave you alone with him. It made you smile slightly as they really did care about you, but you couldn’t bear to see any of them seriously hurt for defying them.

“It’s ok guys…I’ll be ok. Just go with them and nobody gets hurt. You won’t hurt them, right, Joker?” Staring at Joker expectantly, his henchmen stopped as he hummed, thinking about your subtle demand. You knew that people often ask him to not hurt anyone during his escapades, but of course never listens, but it was just a hope that he would actually listen to you.

“You heard them boys, be���gentle” Shocked, you watched as your friends accepted that they couldn't get to you and were allowed to grab their things before being escorted outside. You saw Mia’s concerned face and you gave her a smile as she walked out the front door. You knew she was scared for you, but you would be damned if you acted like some damsel in distress.

“Now that we are alone…” he sat you back down in your seat and he sat across from you, the seat Larry would have sat in if he had gotten here on time. You breathed a sigh of relief realizing that traffic saved him from this nightmare. Who could have thought? Your anxiety was still at an all time high, you were just glad one of your friends didn't get caught up in this. The Joker hummed as he picked up a menu, browsing the food and drink options like he didn't just force everyone out at gunpoint. You gulped, shakily picking up your menu and anxiously flipping through it, knowing that he would force you to order something anyways.

“Don't be afraid of the price, my dear!” He said as he lowered the menu and looked right at you, causing another wave of anxiety to course through you. “It's your birthday, after all! I'll even give you a gift of my very own” Oh God, what kind of gift? The Joker said nothing more as he perused his options before deciding and you didn't dare say anything.

“Waiter!” He yelled, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw the waiters and waitresses standing by the kitchen in fear start to knock each other with their elbows for someone to take one for the team. A younger gentleman around your age nervously approached and you mouthed “I'm sorry” to him as he got closer, he gave you a soft but tight smile in return as he stood as close as he could to bring himself to Gotham's most dangerous.

“What-what will you be having today, Sir Joker?” The tension in the air was tight, with you and him worried that one wrong movement or saying the wrong thing could get you both hurt, or even worse, killed. Joker casually spoke his order to the waiter and he hurriedly wrote it down on his notepad. You told your order and that's when you noticed his nametag “Mark”. Giving him your menu, Joker did the same. You decided to say something to Joker before Mark left, hoping he would follow through.

“I-please don't hurt anyone here if they mess up the orders, Joker” You weren't the most confident, but you made sure to speak as firmly as possible. Joker raised his eyebrow and stared at you as Mark started to turn and halted to hear what you had to say. “Please. I hear stories of what you do to innocent people when you don't get your way but. But you would ruin my birthday if you hurt anyone. So please, especially when there's armed gunmen all around and the fear of messing up could mean death, mistakes are a higher possibility to happen” You were scared he would talk back and kill you to dare to demand him to do something, he would have one of his men bring you behind the restaurant and shoot you right then and there. But that didn't happen. You gripped the table tightly as the Joker brought his finger up to chin and thought for a moment before giving his answer.

“Oh I wouldn't dare ruin your precious birthday! If there are any mistakes I will simply send it back, especially when you put it like that…men! Get out of the kitchen! Only I or the servers shall enter” With a snap, you saw two exits immediately and took charge towards the back of the restaurant. You saw at the same time Mark entered, and the waiters all looked at you and gave you a thankful nod. It made you feel…special almost with how he listened to your demands.

“Now, while we wait, tell me about yourself” Gulping again, you move your leg up and down as you take a deep breath and start to tell him simple things about yourself. Your name, age, where you worked, but not dare where you lived.

“Fascinating! Oh so fascinating!” He then leaned closer to you on the table, elbows resting on the wood with his head cupped between the palms of his hands “You know, I don't listen to anyone else, everyone else is so boring. But you? There's just…something about you. I like you” I like you. Those words shot sparks through your body. The Joker was already becoming obsessed with you, this was not good. So why did those three words make you feel…good?

“Oh? Like me, why?” You challenged him, slowly finding confidence as you stared at him with a smirk. You didn't know what had gotten into you, all you knew was that this was starting to feel thrilling. The fear was slowly washing away and turning into confidence. You knew he was a criminal and did awful things, hell, he kicked everyone out including your friends at gunpoint. But there was something about him too that was sucking you in.

“Oh you are interesting! That's exactly why I like you! You're not some boring hostage who just screams and demands to be let go. It's the same thing every time! But with you, it's different. And I like that. Plus, you're a pretty face to have around” There he went again- calling you pretty. You felt butterflies gather in your stomach as the Joker flirts with you, you were certain of it now. You were walking a dangerous line and it was strangely thrilling. Up until now, your life was fairly average, had nothing special going on and going nowhere fast. And here you were, having a birthday dinner with the Joker.

“You really think I'm pretty?” You kept digging a deeper hole for yourself, the more you entertained him, the more he would have an obsession with you. It was a dangerous game you were playing here, and would never admit that you are sensing some strange attraction for him. It was shameful, but he was charming in an odd way. You then heard the kitchen door swing open to reveal Mark coming out with your dinners in hand, visibly shaking and doing a poor job to disguise it. You felt bad that he was the one to take the fall for the other servers, but somebody had to do it.

“Of course! You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on, my sweet” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mark exit the kitchen with your food. Taking a deep breath, you watched as he shakily walked to the table, trying his hardest not to drop anything. Despite you making the Joker promise that nobody got hurt, there was still that worry. Setting everything down, he gave you both an awkward smile.

“If you need anything, please don't uhm…hesitate to call” He rushed off as soon as he got everything plated, leaving you and the clown prince alone yet again. You didn’t blame him, you would do the same in his situation, every man for himself. Nobody would dare to interfere with any of Joker’s plots, even police are hesitant because they want as little property damage and civilian casualties as possible. You watched him as he happily picked up his silverware and started to cut into his steak.

“You know-’ He paused, waiting for you to look at him and that you did. “You could think of this as a date” That made you gasp, he was serious about this, wasn’t he? That idea didn’t sound so bad to you, which was a horrible thing to think about. Being on a date with the Joker was thrilling to think about, even if this wasn’t planned. Dating the Joker sounded just as thrilling to your boring life that led you nowhere fast.

“A date…huh?” You mused, body humming with excitement. Were you really doing this? You were really doing this. The Joker smiled at you as you made your interest obvious. It made your heart go into overdrive at the thought of what you could be in the future, how much more exciting your life would be like with the Joker in the mix. You, a regular civilian, and Joker, the clown prince of crime.

“Yes my dear, a date” He suddenly stood up, making his way to you and lifting you up out of your seat. Startled from him holding you so close again, he wrapped his hands around your waist and laid his forehead up against yours. Lips ghosting, your heart spiked as your spine shivered. It felt like time stopped as the tension grew thicker between you two. Your attraction couldn't be denied any longer, he was igniting a spark within you that wouldn’t be quenched with any other guy.

Suddenly, police sirens could be heard from outside, along with the red and blue flashing lights in the windows. Signaling that help was finally here. You weren’t sure how to feel. You wanted this moment to last forever, but knew everyone else in this restaurant was being held hostage, along with you. Only then you were reminded of the fact that you were a hostage too, the Joker forcing you to stay here and have dinner with him.

Then, his lips pressed against yours, making sparks of electricity shot down your spine as you kissed back. The kiss was soft and too quick for your liking as he pulled away. Looking into his eyes, you knew your fate was sealed. This was it- you were done for. His thumb caressed your cheek as he separated from you, leaving a strange feeling within your body.

“It is time for me to go, my dear. I will be back for you soon” At that, he fully left you standing there as he started to walk with his men, before stopping. Turning back, he grabbed something out of his pocket and threw it at you. You scrambled and caught it, realizing that it was a huge wad of cash. It was massive, you’ve never held that much cash in your hands ever.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have a better gift, dear, I do hope one thousand suffices. Shall we meet again” You watched him disappear in the back and his men leaving with him. As soon as he exited, you crumbled to the floor, breathing heavily. Hand on the tile, you went through everything that just happened. Staring at the money, you shakily put it in your bag, knowing that if you lost it, or the police took it, he would not be happy.

“This is the police!” The cops burst in through the front, startling you as they swarmed the place, immediately marking their way over to you. Your friends probably told them how Joker forced you to have dinner with him and wanted to ensure that you were ok.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you at all?” One of them leaned down and gently touched your shoulder, putting his gun away so as to not make you anxious. All you could do was nod as the next few hours went by in a blur. You told the police everything about what happened, leaving out the parts of your sudden, growing attraction and framing the kiss like you only kissed back out of coercion. The money lay in your bag untouched.

Your life was about to change, for better or for worse.

[mnranger5]

The Best Vacation Ever? Las Vegas, Death Valley & Lake Tahoe, Southwest Roadtrip, 7/5/22 - 7/11/22 (Part 1)

If you ask the kids, they will say this was best trip ever.  If you ask Dyan, she’d say Top 3.  If you ask me, I’d agree it was the best.  Lake Tahoe, was always the goal destination for our summer vacation.  But the travel was disjointed, being that we flew into different airports, in different states, on different days.  We rented two cars to arrive in Tahoe, but then ultimately left Tahoe, driving opposite directions to once again, fly out of different airports, in different states, on different days.   And because of the hairy  travel logistics, it was almost the trip that didn’t happen…

Rewind to the spring of 2022.  Dyan and I were both working at home – she in the office, and me in the basement.  I had just wrapped up my morning meetings when Dyan waltzed down the steps in an obviously good mood.  “I have a surprise,” she sang in a very opera-esque way.

My meetings hadn’t gone too well, and I definitely wasn’t in the giddy mood she was in, “What?” I scoffed. 

“We are going on a trip!!” 

“What?”, my tone unchanged. 

“We’re going to The Chainsmokers in Lake Tahoe!!” 

“What are you talking about honey?” I stated, still confused, but now intrigued.  My bad meetings fading quickly. 

“I bought us tickets to The Chainsmokers!” 

“Us, as in, you and me?”  I asked, in a much better mood than 30 seconds ago.

With a huge smile, “ALL OF US, the kids too!  We need to start looking at air and hotel.”  And with that, she scampered back up to her computer to continue being the family travel agent.  Moments later I hear her yell out to me…”How many frequent flyer miles do you have?” 

“Not sure, but somewhere around 250K.” 

“Okay good.”  Silence.  Something was brewing. 

I yelled back, “How many do you have?” 

“Like 150K.”  She continued, “I think we need to use miles because flights are expen-n-n-n-n-sive” 

“How expensive?” 

“Umm, about $800 or 50K miles each.” 

“Yikes, that is spendy.  I will just book me and the girls with miles. Just tell me what flight to book.” 

A few moments later, Dyan came back down indicating she was able to use companion passes for her kids to fly with her, meaning they flew free!  They were booked.  Awesome.  She gave me the flight info and asked me to book.

I pulled up Delta, plugged in the dates, and destination (MSP->RNO) and clicked submit….Tahoe was just a few clicks away! And them BAM, sticker shock.  “Dyan, where are the $800/50K mile tickets?  My screen says the seats are now $1,100 or 75K miles.” 

And this is when I realized that Dyan sets the market for ticket prices.  All she has to do is merely search for a trip and the prices  seem to go up.  That’s how it always works out.  In the 5 minutes since Dyan booked her seats, the prices had dramatically risen.  So I told Dyan I’d just wait to book.  Maybe prices would go back down.

And then March and April rolled by.  Prices hadn’t decreased.  They just kept going up.  By the beginning of May, the flight Dyan booked into Reno was now $1,300 or 90K miles.  And as I was about ready to take the loss on the chin and book at the higher price, the unthinkable happened.  Dyan’s flight from MPLS to RNO was cancelled.  Dyan’s seats were automatically rebooked on a connecting flight through Salt Lake City.  If we wanted to be on the same flight as Dyan, we’d now need to shell out $1,870 or 160K miles per ticket. I kept looking at the total price of $5,610 for the girls and I to fly.  “YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!”  We wouldn’t be going at that price. 

I needed a new plan.  Maybe we could fly into a nearby airport and make a roadtrip out of the vacation?  Flights into Sacramento, San Francisco and Salt Lake City were all similarly priced.  Unreal!  The only other option was Las Vegas.  As I began to look into the option, it really started growing on me.  Not only were flights reasonable, but it actually would allow us to extend the trip by an extra day on the front and back end of the trip. 

The only downside was the seven hour Nevada desert road trip between Las Vegas and Lake Tahoe, during the height of the inflation/gas price crisis of 2022!  But I had a plan that included a cool car, and a hot destination to make the road trip a little more fun!

7/5/22

Our flight was at 7AM.  The ride was super smooth, which I always appreciate.  I once had a pilot explain turbulence to me in terms I could easily relate to.  He said when you are on the lake in the middle of the day, with lots of other boats and the afternoon wind kicking up, the lake might get a bit rough.  But when you are the first person on the lake in the morning, and the lake is like glass, with little wind; running across the lake is smooth as can be.  The same can be said about the sky.  Other planes, heat and wind create instability in the air and generally cause for bumpier rides later in the day.  I love this analogy!

To pass the time, the girls watched movies while I watched The Office.  About 30 minutes from Vegas, Brianna captured this cool picture near the Grand Canyon.

Once arriving in Vegas, we shuttled over to the rental car center and picked up a convertible Ford Mustang, a car the girls would dub as the “only way to roadtrip from now on.”  Our first destination was brunch.  It was 10:30AM locally, but our bellies were still on 12:30 time, and we hadn’t had breakfast yet.  A quick donut establishment search on google yielded several bakery shops nearby the strip.  The girls chose Las Vegas Donut Bar, an Instagram icon in the historic downtown.  Our quick drive took us right up the Las Vegas Strip.  It was the first time the girls have ever seen the massive hotels, casinos and attractions.  They were in awe.  And obviously, we had the ragtop down!

The LV Donut Bar didn’t disappoint either.  Even though they were sold out of their world famous Pop Tart Donut, they had a handful of others we split amongst the three of us: Birthday Cake Oreo Donut, Crème Brulee Donut, Chocolate Long John x2, Maple Fritter with bacon jam and caramel crème. Other than Krispy Kreme, the girls say they were the best donuts ever!  They were definitely fantastic, but my teeth hurt after eating those.

Less than an hour later, we were back on the road.  We took one more pass down the Las Vegas strip before finding Highway 160 and cruising west into the desert.  When booking this part of the trip, I told the girls we had about an 8 hour drive between Las Vegas and Lake Tahoe.  Since this was a vacation, I wanted to make it fun for them.  I came up with a couple different ideas they could choose from: 1) Drive to Yosemite National Park and stay one night before heading to Tahoe, or 2) Drive to Death Valley National Park and stay one night before heading the Tahoe.  Both would be COMPLETELY different experiences in that Yosemite would be lush, mountainous, forests while Death Valley would be baron deserts.  Seeing as we’ve been to some places comparable to Yosemite, such as Yellowstone, Crater Lake, the girls chose Death Valley as it was definitely more unique, and nothing like anyplace we have ever been.

The drive to Death Valley was only about two hours, with a quick stop in Pahrump for some snacks and sunscreen.  We’d go through the sunscreen like crazy driving through the dessert with the top down.  Around 1:00, we reached the gates of Death Valley.  It was getting quite hot, with temps around 105 degrees.

The first stop we made in Death Valley was Zabriskie Point, which overlooks the hilly badlands. 

Little did we know that we would be back here later in the evening as we’d find out during hotel check in that this is the premiere spot for sunsets. 

Just five miles down the road was our 4-Diamond hotel, The Inn at Death Valley.  We were a bit early for check-in, but the parking lot was dead – maybe five cars?  We pulled up to valet and a dude with a thick Aussie accent approached the vehicle.  After asking if we were checking in, he led us to the door and said, “Mr. Bland, Anna will assist you at the desk.”  How did he know my name?  The girls and I shot confused looks at each other.  We walked through the door and approached the desk.  Anna, the front desk attendant was super nice, and explained they didn’t have many guests staying here today – summer apparently isn’t the busy season in Death Valley.  We surmised we were the only new guests checking in, and they were expecting us, hence why they addressed me by name.  She upgraded our room to a suite with a gigantic double balcony that overlooked the lush palm tree oasis in the middle of what felt like an apocalyptic wasteland.  Although intentionally kept dated, the room really fit the 1930’s resort vibe.  It was fantastic, a fun change from the modern hotels we are used to staying at on vacation.

But as nice as the room, and its view were, the kids picked this hotel for another reason.  The iconic swimming pool.  Barricaded by stone walls and soaring palm trees, this blue water oasis was a sight for sore eyes in the 110-degree heat.  The only thing it lacked was the “refreshing” factor.  The water temp was surely over 100 degrees.  It felt like bath water.  But we swam anyway. 

We asked the bartender if he could make frozen smoothies and he said it would be an experiment, but he’d try nonetheless.  15 minutes later, he brought frozen smoothies made with strawberries, pineapple, bananas and who know what else.  He said he taste tested it a few times as he was concocting the drinks, and decided he had done such a good job, he made one for himself.  And since they weren’t on the menu, he said they were on the house!  So cool!  And the frozen smoothies were excellent.  We had to drink them fast before they melted in the heat!

After the pool we cleaned up, and explored the beautiful property before heading into Furnace Creek for dinner. 

We were all super hungry as we really hadn’t eaten much of a meal, but rather just snacked throughout the day.  Furnace Creek had two restaurants, The Ranch 1849 (buffet) and Last Kind Words Saloon and Steakhouse.   The girls thought the buffet sounded good, so we headed to The Ranch.  Considering that the national park was in the low season and many of the shops and restaurants in the park had not fully reopened from Covid, the restaurants were charging higher prices than normal.  Hilariously, The Ranch wanted $59.99 per person for the buffet that only included ONE protein option, chicken fingers…HAHA.  There was a salad bar and some sides like fries, corn and beans.  We took one look at the options and decided this place wasn’t for us!

We walked over to the steakhouse and were seated right away.  Ashlynn got “fake” buttered noodles.  I don’t know if the butter was made from goat milk or something else, but they were disgusting.  Brianna ordered a cheeseburger with a delectable Caesar salad, and I ordered prime rib which was “mid”, aka, so-so, as the girls would say.  Ashlynn struggled with her entire meal.  Not only were her noodles inedible, but her so called “Shirley Temple” was nothing but cherry flavored carbonated water.  Brianna was kind enough to let Ashlynn eat her salad.

After our below average dinner, we walked across the street to The Ice Cream Parlor.  Brianna got strawberry cheesecake which was amazing.  She also let me finish it because she was full!  Ashlynn got chocolate peanut butter cup which she said was outstanding.

We then went on a driving tour of Furnace Creek that included a memorable trip into Badwater Basin.

By this point in the evening, it was 119 degrees.  It felt like a literal oven which made it hard to enjoy the site.  Badwater Basin is the lowest spot - 282 feet below sea level -  in North America.  It is so hot here that weeds don’t even grow on the side of the road.  The place looks exactly like what I’d expect Mars to look like.  Rock, volcanic ash and sand…it is a brutal environment. The tiny white sign up on the side of the mountain marks sea level.

Our last stop of the day was sunset at Zabriskie Point. 

We took dozens of pictures during golden hour.

We then finished the night with a starlit swim at the pool. 

The water was still warm!!!

7/6/22

We woke up at 6AM to catch the first sun reaching down into the valley.  And by 7AM, we had packed To-Go breakfasts (chocolate croissants, muffins, Frosted Flakes and orange juice) and loaded up the car.  Two more tasks before hitting the road, 1) take screen shots of the navigational route/step-by-step directions because there would be NO cell service for the next two hours, and 2) fill up with gas because there was limited gas stations for the next two hours.  I think we found the worst hit area of the 2022 gas shortage crisis. Nine dollars per gallon!!  Sheesh.

Unfortunately, this gas station was sold out of gas, and closed.  I then started to get a bit worried.  We had ½ tank in the Mustang, but still had a 2 hour drive through the mountainous desert.  Would we have enough gas?  Surely, there must be another gas station in the next two hours…I tried to convince myself.  But the pessimistic/Dad/”safety first” side of me wondered if it also would be sold out of gas.  We started racing down the highway, with the top down.  It was a hot, but gorgeous morning.  Every bend in the road, I peered several miles ahead of us, looking for any sign of civilization.  But nothing.  We had been on the road about 30 minutes, and the tank had dipped slightly under ½.  I kept reassuring myself we had plenty of gas.  But deep down, I was quite nervous.  We passed a few scenic sites, without stopping.  Had I felt like we had adequate gas, we would have surely stopped at Harmony Borax Works or The Devil’s Cornfield.  But we drove on.  At least 10 miles ahead of us, I spotted giant sand dunes on the horizon.  And as we got closer, they looked like giant ski hills, but sand.  The spot was called the Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes.  This is the biggest sand dune within the park and is littered with gnarly mesquite trees  - about the only thing that can survive the harsh conditions.  The kids wanted to stop and venture out into the dunes.  So, obviously, I said, “Sure!”  And from that moment on, the floorboards in the Mustang would be covered in sand, for the rest of the trip!

Just 10 minutes further down the road, my nerves were put to ease when we found a gas station in the tiny town of Stovepipe Wells.  And, gas was ONLY $8/gallon here!

One of the things I had not considered when planning the drive was how many mountain passes we’d have to go through between Death Valley and Tahoe. 

I can remember at least seven or eight switchbacks up the mountains, only to have some white-knuckle coasts down the mountains.  The brakes on this car got a heavy workout.

Around 10AM, we exited the park and reached Lone Pine, California.  This town is so picturesque, being at the base of the highest mountain in the lower 48 states, Mt. Whitney (elev. 14,505).  From there, we continued north through the Inyo National Forrest and Kings Canyon National Park.  In the small town of Bishop we began making our way up into the mountains, toward Mammoth Lakes.  Our plan had been to stop at the Mammoth Lakes ski resort for lunch.  As we all grew hungry, we reluctantly passed several restaurants on the drive because, well, we weren’t to the resort yet.  By the time we got to the highway exit for the resort, the hunger had turned into mild starvation.  Brianna was going nuts in the backseat about the pain she was feeling from not eating.  And then we saw the unfortunate sign that nobody had expected.  On the highway exit ramp, the sign read, “Mammath Lakes Ski Area – 9 Miles.”  That was 9 miles through the mountains meaning our arrival time was about 20 more minutes.  Groans came from the backseat.  I pulled onto the shoulder.  “Brianna, this is up to you.  Do you want to drive 20 minutes to the ski resort, or do you want to get back on the highway and stop at the next exit with food?”  Her weak body barely mustered, “back on the highway.”  In hindsight, this would prove to be a terrible decision.  Virtually every five miles since Death Valley had some kind of town or exit with food options.  What we didn’t know is the next 30 miles stretch had NO food establishments.  So when we finally found the small town of Lee Vining, we stopped at the first restaurant we saw.  A small diner named, Nicely’s.  Unfortunately, the food was anything but, Nice.  Brianna got grilled cheese, and Ashlynn chicken fingers.  I had the chili dog.  Not sure how, but they messed it all up. Brianna’s grilled chesse was thick slices of Texas Toast (toasted with no butter, not griddled) which was super dry and crumbly.  Ashlynn’s chicken fingers were all batter, no chicken.  And the chili smothering my hotdog had a bizarre cinnamon taste to it.  I pushed the chili and soggy bun to the side and just ate the hotdog.  It was gross, but we all got some laughs from it.  We stopped up the street at the gas station and got some snacks to tie us over until we got to Tahoe.  

With the top still down, the heat was relentless.  Near Coleville, we stopped along highway and walked down to the West Walker River.  The stream was ice cold, as the water originated from melting snow fields up on Tower and Forsythe Peaks near Yosemite.  

The icy water elicited shrieks from the girls, but they were happy to still get knee deep in the water.  I was happy that they were getting the Death Valley sand off of them!

Around 3PM, we pulled into Beach Retreat & Lodge at Lake Tahoe.  Thanks to Dyan’s short connecting flight through SLC, her and the kids arrived about 45 minutes before us.  We checked in, grabbed a couple apps in the lobby bar, and then headed out to the beach.  The kids played in the water for a couple hours before getting hungry. 

Dinner was at Base Camp Pizza Company in Heavenly Village.  It was excellent pizza!  After dinner we walked around some shops before returning to the resort for more swimming and sunset by the lake!

7/7/22

We were up early, and the agenda called for a trip around Lake Tahoe today.  It was a bit chillier than we had expected, with temps in the upper 40’s at sunrise.  We cruised up the east side of the lake, in our matching white pony cars. 

A day earlier, we had asked the kids if they had done any research on beaches they might like to visit at Lake Tahoe.  Aidan was quick to say, Secret Cove, which is a famous, yet “difficult-to-get-to” beach on the east side of the lake.  And although the pictures look very beautiful, the beach is mostly famous for being a nude beach.  Sorry Aidan, you can come back to visit that when you are a bit older.

Scarlett however mentioned Sand Harbor Beach as a place she wanted to see, and by all accounts, this place looked stunning, and people were required to wear swimsuits!

We arrived at 7AM.  Air was cold, water was cold, and all we were wearing was swimsuits.  The sun was stubbornly stuck behind the towering Herlan Peak.  We took some pictures on some super sketch granite boulders.  The kids hopped around on these rocks like they were playing leapfrog.  I on the other hand took things a bit more cautiously.  It’s miraculous I got out of there without needing an air ambulance ride.

Around 8AM, the sun had finally crested the mountains and the air was beginning to warm. 

Kids were getting in the water and the beach was beginning to fill.  The water is the clearest water I have ever seen.  Some of the water in this picture looks like only a foot or two deep, but much of it is actually 10-20 feet deep.  The kids spent most of the morning playing king of the mountain on the rocks and swimming in the cove.  We had struck Vacation Gold.

But all good things must come to an end…some kids got chilly, others hungry. 

[anxiouspotatorants]

Omg the Colin thing in season 6 is the most irresponsible thing his and Logan's friend group did, and they actually jumped off of a cliff with no proper support or safety precautions! Maybe it's because I'm from another country so I know how disorienting a new place can be even with knowing the language in it but the fact that a) NONE of the guys in the group were like "uh guys maybe we need to leave the girl be in her own country", b) none of them thought of what they would possibly do with her once she was in a foreign country to her that's the size of half a continent, and c) they were all annoyed and inconsiderate of her when it was clear that she didn't speak the language and didn't even know how to navigate in such a big place, just tells me everything I need to know for how they really behave. Like people can go on and on about how fun the LDB is but the show gives us numerous examples (even within the revival) that they truly would put another person's safety or even their own in jeopardy if it meant "having a good time" in the rich people's sense. Even the club scene in AYITL is so obnoxious because it's just a bunch of grown men annoying other attendees in the dance place and then being all "I'm buying the place so that you people can't get a piece of it!", like genuinely what an asshole

No but seriously when you are or have been a foreigner what Colin did goes from being a dark joke to downright horrifying. Not only did he drag her over to a country where she doesn't know the language, he flew her across the globe. It's not like he took her over to London, where she could always grab a one-hour-ish flight or even a train (because yes you can do that in Europe), he took her across the Atlantic Ocean to a country with some serious border control (no Schengen in the US) and then expected her to what? Hang out? Apparently this girl is a milkmaid who only speaks Dutch (which btw stereotype much) so I'm guessing she doesn't have the resources to book a flight back home or the ability to get a translator who can help her do it. Call me dramatic, but in a much much darker show this could have been a trafficking storyline.

The whole situation just really points out how Colin and the LDB not only don't care about anyone but themselves but genuinely view other people as sources of entertainment that they can push around however they want until they get bored and just ignore them. Like, did Colin think to maybe arrange for her to get home safely? Did the thought of telling him to, or to not let him take her to the US in the first place, even occur to Logan and Finn?

And these are the same people who hold a public party celebrating Rory's felony. The same people who apparently steal boats themselves all the time, and so much more. The same people who claim that a meticulously organized bungee-jumping event in ball gowns is somehow closer to real life than anything in Rory's life. The problem isn't them being rich people who have fun. It's that their idea of fun is doing literal harm to other people through theft and manipulation and almost kidnapping, all the while ignoring the incredibly expensive and important degree they got into Yale to actually work on and waiting for their parents to bail them out of jails and pay their university to keep them on for yet another year and spit in the face of higher education again.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Only You ~ JJK [M] [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 3.9K

↬↬↬Genre: Fluff, with smut, Mafia AU

↬↬↬Pairing: Mafia!Jungkook x Fem!Reader

 Jeon Jungkook. One of the wealthiest people in Seoul, he happened to be one of the most well known as well. He had to be in his line of work. He was one of the leading mafia gangs of South Korea than ran their part of the country, Jungkook was in charge of everything and anything happening within Seoul.

"Do you have to go?" Jisoo asked as her husband put on his tie that morning, Jungkook had been married to Jisoo for three years and it had been the worst three years of his life. She was using him for the money and power that he held anybody could see that but there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't love her he never had loved her but it was something he had to do for the sake of business. Jisoo happened to be one of the opposing mafia gang leaders daughters and she was forced into a marriage with Jungkook for the sake of money and to keep the peace between two families. She was happy with their arrangement, she got to be married to one of the most handsome men in South Korea, shop whenever she wanted and have everything she'd ever dreamt off thanks to the contracts.

"I have business to do, if you want to keep this pretty house I think I should go," Jungkook said coldly turning away from her and checking over his suitcase he wanted to make sure he had everything he needed for his business trip, only it wasn't business. It was a weekend away with you. His secretary and mistress.  

"I thought you said the business trip was cancelled, can I not just come with you?" She begged him but he groaned at her, telling her it would be nothing but a boring weekend away and she shouldn't bother herself with the details. Just to go out and buy herself something pretty like she always did when he was out of town.

Your hands nervously drummed on the silver handle of your suitcase, you'd told Jungkook that you weren't sure this trip was a good idea but he insisted telling you everything would be fine. The trip would go great and you would both have a wonderful time together. It was your first trip away with him that wasn't business, just pleasure and while you were excited you were worried. There were so many things that could go wrong with the weekend turning it from what was supposed to be a magical weekend away into a disaster.

"Miss Y/l/n," You looked away from the floor to see Jimin, the driver for Jungkook, standing at the side of a silver car. 

"Sorry, I'm daydreaming." He chuckled and helped you into the car, you knew he knew what you were to Jungkook. Anyone close to Jungkook knew that you weren't just his secretary it may have started that way but it wasn't what it was now and they knew that. 

"Mr Jeon is running a little late, he'll meet you at the private airstrip," Jimin said as he closed the boot of the car, you stared down at the leather seats in the back of the car remembering everything that had happened here. It was where he'd first kissed you, first took you as his own and where you'd almost ended it all. So many memories in one small confined space, 

"Okay Jimin, thank you." You whispered still unsure of how to talk to him. You were his equal before and now he held you as though you were higher in the food chain than he was but it wasn't true. You were a mistress, hidden away from Jungkook's wife because you knew it would be a tragedy if she were to find out about you. You'd met Jisoo a couple of times before all of this happened, she'd come by the office trying to make things right with Jungkook but nothing ever made things right, Jungkook didn't love her and deep down she didn't love him either. 

"A little music to pass the time?" You hummed at Jimin's question and he turned on the radio letting the soft lofi music fill the back of the car while you stared out of the window thinking about all of the times you'd been with Jungkook.

He always wanted to be able to be near you no matter what, you were invited into every meeting he had with his men and you were taken to every event that they held as a company. Making it clear to anyone that looked at you that you were his, the first time you'd ever met Jimin he started to flirt with you and to make it clear you were off-limits. Jungkook took you in the back of Jimin's car as he drove you home one night, making sure you cried out his name instead of Jimin's and marked you up to make clear that you were taken. 

"What's the news on London?" Jungkook asked as he sat you on his lap, you were in a giant conference room having a meeting about something you didn't care about. All you wanted to do was go home to your warm bed and warm socks, it had been snowing all day and you just wanted out.

"They're not on board yet, they want to have a private meeting with you first." You knew that he was trying to get into business with another Mafia leader there but you didn't know why nor did you care why either.

"Private meeting in London?" Jungkook asked Yoongi from across the table, Yoongi kept his eyes trained on Jungkook rather than you. You were wearing a tight black skirt and open-topped white blouse but he knew better than to stare at you sitting there on Jungkook's lap. You were always sitting on his lap it was as if you were to get off would cause the end of the world. Yoongi hummed at his questioning informing him that it would be a trip to London for this deal to go well.

"Well, Kitten? Trip to London?" Your eyes lit up at the thought of going to London, London was one of the places you wanted to visit on your bucket list. 

"London it is then, I trust you can book everything Yoongi?" Yoongi nodded before leaving the room. He knew the routine, leave without saying goodbye and get out of your hair.

 Private jets were your life with Jungkook, he would never step foot on a plane that wasn't with his own pilot of had routine checks twice a day to make sure nothing was wrong. 

"You okay?" Jungkook asked as he linked your hands together, you were sitting side by side on the small on-plane sofa that he had. Your head was resting on his shoulder and he noticed how unusually quiet you were being.

"Just tired," You only lied a little, you hadn't slept at all the night before worrying that his wife would find out about this weekend away but Jungkook told you everything would be fine. Normally you would trust him with your life - you had to within his line of business anyway - but there was something putting you off about this weekend away. A small nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach, 

"It's one business meeting and then our whole weekend together, we don't have to hideaway. We can just be together." He promised you as he ran his hands down your side trying to comfort you, your eyes fluttered shut and you hummed at him. 

"I know but-"

"She won't know, I promise." You hummed again and listened to his heart beating, you were trying to get some sleep before you landed in London. It was going to be a long flight so you had plenty of time to sleep and think things over before you got there, plenty of time to calm yourself down from all of the worrying you were doing. Jungkook wanted to tell Jisoo what was happening between you and him, you'd been together for a year now and it was starting to get to him. He wanted to live with you, take you into his home and treat you like someone he loved rather than someone that he had to hide. A small mumble left your lips and you turned over on the sofa, he smiled down at your sleeping figure and ran his hands over your face watching as you screwed up your eyes and frowned.

"Goodnight angel." He whispered looking over the reports in his hand, joining teams with the Mafia in London would be one of the biggest and boldest moves he could do. It would also abandon his contract with Jisoo and her father meaning he was free to marry and be with whoever he wanted and who he wanted was you. Only you.

Jungkook hadn't taken you to the meeting with him, he told you he wanted you to stay at the hotel and get ready for the evening instead. The mafia he was joining forces with were known for throwing huge parties in their clubs after having a meeting, successful or unsuccessful and it was a big deal to go to them. 

"How did it go?" You asked from the bathroom, you heard the hotel door open and close and expected Jungkook to be stood there. 

"Kookie?" You called out slotting the earring into your ear before coming out into the hotel room but the room was empty, no one was inside the room. You frowned to yourself walking around, Jungkook had taught you how to look for anything that could have been planted. He wanted you to be able to protect yourself at all times. The only thing that was out of place was the 'do not disturb' sign on the floor, you hissed bending down to pick it up. 

"It must have been housekeeping," You whispered to yourself before going back to the bathroom. There was a garment bag hanging on the shower curtain rail. You knew that inside of there was going to be one of the most expensive and luxurious gown you were ever going to see and you'd never be able to afford it in your lifetime. Jungkook always insisted on buying you things even though you didn't want him to. It wasn't something you were ever comfortable with, you unzipped the bag to reveal a princess V-neck dress composed of a lace fabric with full sleeves on it covered in intricate beading.

"Are you ready?" Jungkook asked he'd come back to the hotel over 20 minutes ago and was ready for you to come out of the bathroom. He'd only seen the dress on models but never on you so he was excited to see the way it would suit you, 

"Just one second," You giggled adding one of the bracelets he'd gotten for you around your wrist, you stared at yourself in the mirror and ran your hands down the dress. You looked like someone you weren't but someone you wanted to be, 

"Coming." You whispered walking to the door and slowly opening it to see Jungkook staring at you. It was an intense stare as he locked eyes with you,

"Twirl." He ordered making you laugh softly, you did a small twirl and he hummed coming over to you and wrapping his arms around you. He didn't look impressed and for a moment you thought he didn't like it even though he'd picked it out, you began to get insecure. 

"I can change if you don't like it." You told him looking down at the dress but he shook his head, tilting your chin up so you would look at him. 

"The problem is I like it a little too much," He whispered before kissing you on the lips. The kiss was like magic, it made you feel as though you were riding on a cloud whenever his lips came into contact with yours. You pushed him away, 

"We should go to this party, come on." You whispered looking around for your small clutch bag that matched the dress, he sighed knowing you were right. 

"I'll just have to keep you close to me and make it known you're mine." He let out a sigh again and you playfully poked his side wanting to get to the party. The sooner you were there the sooner it could be over and you could come back to the hotel room and be alone with him after a long flight and day without him there. He'd already promised a sightseeing trip the next day anyway.

Jisoo stared from across the room as she watched you and her husband dancing around the dance floor together, your head was thrown back as you laughed at something her husband said and she gripped onto the wine glass so tightly she thought it might break. Jungkook had never been funny so what was he saying to you that could possibly make you smile this much, 

"Can I get you another drink ma'am?" She glared at the bartender and watched as Jungkook brought you back up from a dip and into a romantic kiss on the dance floor. That should have been her, it was supposed to be her and yet here she was hiding in the background because she's followed him to London. ''Business trip'' she rolled her eyes and looked at you. You were nothing compared to her, as far as she was concerned she was the best Jungkook could ever do and she was going to make sure he knew damn well about it as well. Jisoo was about to storm over to you when she noticed that you were both gone. You'd only been there a second ago and you'd vanished into thin air as though you were never there. She took out the small keycard from her handbag and went back to the hotel, she'd heard you in the bathroom earlier when she stopped by. She wanted to see Jungkook as a surprise but when she heard your voice she left quickly in case she had the wrong room but now she knew what was really happening behind her back. 

"Stop teasing," You whimpered as Jungkook pressed your chest against the wall of the hotel room, he'd done nothing but tease you since the moment you left the party and you were tired of it. 

"I can't help it, I want you." He whispered kissing down your neck and biting on the soft skin, 

"I want you forever, you know that right?" You hummed and turned around so that you were face to face again, he kissed you roughly and your hands went into his hair. By now your makeup was smudged and your lipstick was across his face but neither of you cared it wasn't as though you had to hide this right now. You could be as passionate together as you wanted to be and that was that. 

"I know-"

"No, I mean it. We get home and I'm filing for a divorce." He pulled away from you holding your face in his hand, he wanted you to stare into his eyes so you knew this was real. That it was all going to happen, all the plans you had together were going to fall into place. He would finally be able to call you his own and not have to worry about anything anymore. 

"But her father-"

"The contract with him will terminate." He whispered running his thumb along your skin to remove the black mascara that had smudged down under your eye. 

"You're really going to do it?" He nodded slowly at you, you threw your arms around his neck and began making out with him as you put your hands into his hair. 

"Jungkook I need you." You whispered to him, those four little words were all he needed to hear, he trailed his hand down the back of your dress and pulled the zipper down so you would be exposed to him.

"Fuck, you get better every time I look at you." He grunted picking you up and carrying you over to the double bed. You stripped him from his clothes while he hovered above you, you threw the shirt somewhere around the room and he kicked off his trousers and boxers. Normally this would be a rushed job, a quick fuck in the office, car or your apartment but he wanted tonight to be special. It was a special occasion and he wanted you to know that.

"Just kiss me you, dork." You whispered making him chuckle, you were the only person that was allowed to talk back to him like that. You were the only person he would allow to do that to him, 

"I love you." He whispered as you started pumping him in your hand, you kissed him. 

"I love you too." You whispered back to him moving to the edge of the bed so he knew you were ready for him. You'd been ready for him since the moment you'd seen him in his tux that night. 

"So needy tonight," He chuckled deeply bending down to kiss you again, you melted into the kiss as you continued to pump him in your hand. He kissed down your neck and stomach and dropped to his knees in front of you looking up at you, you arched your back too needy for his attention and he chuckled softly. 

"Please." You begged him as he blew cold air onto your exposed clit, he smirked before kissing your womanhood, his tongue slid lower and into your entrance making you cry out his name. He knew what he was doing to tease you and was going to keep doing it until you came all over his face. He slid two fingers into your entrance and you moaned out biting down on your lip, the habit of having to be quiet creeping into you, 

"Let it all out, baby." Your hips bucked as his voice sent vibrations through your cunt and brought you closer to your release, you clenched around his fingers and he chuckled darkly. 

"That's it, baby," He started pumping his fingers and curling them in just the right place, he knew how to play you like a guitar and he loved it. Your hands gripped onto the sheets around you as you tried to hold yourself down against the bed, you were wriggling so much due to your intense build-up. You ground down against his tongue and fingers needing to get your release and he allowed it, humming softly. Your legs shook from the pleasure he was giving you. 

"Jungkook! I-I'm gonna cum." You whimpered but it only made him pick up the pace of his tongue and fingers, working you harder until your orgasm snapped and you came around him. He held your legs in place so he could continue to eat you out through your orgasm and keep the build-up going. 

"Jungkook!" You whined out hips bucking and raising from the bed as you came down from your high whimpering his name over and over again. 

"You ready baby?" He questioned running his length between your folds to slicken himself up in your arousal, you let out a breathy whine and nodded your head quickly. You needed him inside of you badly and he let out a sigh as he sank into you. 

"Shit," He whispered as he felt your clench around him and he chuckled as you slowly began to move your hips wanting him to move inside of you. 

"Patience babe." You shook your head at him and grabbed his face kissing him roughly and rocking your hips, there was no patience, not when you needed him this badly.

"Just fuck me Jungkook," You begged him and he smirked at you snapping his hips in and out of you at an even pace, your back arched off the bed and you moaned out his name not caring if the whole hotel heard you or not. 

"You feel so good Y/n," He moaned out bending down to kiss you as he lifted your left leg over his shoulder to rest there for a moment while he continuously fucked into you. The sound of slapping skin and moans filling the small hotel room as he grunted out your name, 

"Close," You whimpered as you used your fingers to rub your clit as he fucked into you, he smirked at you watching as you brought yourself closer to your second orgasm of the night. 

"Yeah, baby? You want to cum?" You nodded frantically and he grunted feeling you clench around him, 

"If you do that again I'm gonna cum too," He moaned out and you smirked clenching around him on purpose, he stopped his thrusts and held himself deep inside of you, 

"Is that what you want?" You looked at him with lust-filled eyes, 

"You want me to fill you up? Fuck a baby into that tight little cunt?" Fuck, you'd always wanted him to do it but he never would because of his wife, 

"Need you to fill me up," You whimpered back to him and he let out a groan of your name. 

"T-This is serious Y/n, do you want to have a baby?" He slowly began thrusting in and out of you as you nodded desperately yet again. You wanted to have a baby with him, it was something you'd discussed before but it was never put into practice. He'd always wanted you to be the one to carry his son or daughter, someone to take over his business when he left the world. An heir. 

"Yes." You begged him and that was all it took, his hips began snapping in and out of you at an unruly pace. His fingers replaced yours on your clit and you cried out whimpering as you came around his length. He grunted holding himself still inside of you once again and letting himself fill you up, his hips bucking unconsciously whenever he felt you clench around him. 

"S-Stay." You whimpered wanting him to stay inside of you for a little while longer. 

When Jungkook got home two nights later Jisoo was waiting for him on the sofa with bags by her side. He'd brought you along to the house with him to prove he was going to end things with Jisoo, she stared at you from where she was sitting. Her ring was on the coffee table in front of her and she stared you up and down. 

"Going somewhere?" Jungkook questioned dropping his bags down onto the floor and putting yours down next to his, he intertwined your fingers together.

"Yeah. I'm leaving you before you get the chance to embarrass me and leave me first." She got up from the sofa and walked closer to you, 

"Don't you think he'll do what he did to me to you?" She questioned as one of the maids helped her carry her bags towards the front door, your hand on Jungkook's tightened and he stared at you. 

"There's a difference. I love her and not you." He told her proudly opening the front door for her to leave through, she scoffed and left out of the front door and towards her waiting car. 

"Won't you be in trouble with her family?" You questioned once the front door was shut, he shook his head at you.

"They'll find someone else to pawn her off onto," He ran his hand over your cheek and then down to your stomach. Both of you had talked after that night and you were really trying for a baby, you wanted to give him an heir and he wanted you to give him one too. 

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[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight  - Chapter 15: Hiccup

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~4300

Rating: PG-13 (brief language)

Summary: Almost four weeks since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: And we’re back! Since it’s been ages... Previously on Fight or Flight - Hana had learned that Barthelemy and Godfrey were working with Auvernal from Kiara, but Liam didn’t seem motivated to take much action regarding that fact. Leo had gotten money and belongings to Riley, who shared an intimate moment with Drake when she returned to their hotel.

This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Liam let out a sigh as he changed the channel back to CBC. He needed to be actively watching, probably should be taking notes, in all honesty. This hour of programming consisted of discussion with three of the most connected political pundits in the country. It was the easiest and most reliable way to get a feel for the leanings of both the journalists and the common citizens, and it aired every weekday, so it was far more up to date than waiting for the biweekly polling.

The issue was that the panelists were revelling in the recent turn of events with such glee. It was understandable, he supposed. This was the most exciting political turn of events this country had seen in centuries. It put the mild speculation that he was Bridget’s biological father, a rumor had surfaced around the time of his announcement that Drake and Riley’s child would be heir and had briefly flared again at Bridget’s first public appearance when people had seen that she indeed looked like a child with some East Asian heritage, to shame. This wasn’t just baseless gossip and stirring the pot to increase ratings. This was true turmoil, plain and simple. There was a relative unknown carrying the power of the Crown, the current Queen-regent had been “kidnapped” and not seen in weeks, citizens were protesting daily, and this was all expected to last for months until the Conclave, where all the tension and drama would culminate in a vote among the five major noble houses to name a new monarch. The journalists and talking heads had a seemingly endless feast in front of them. All of it at his expense.

He took another sip of his scotch as he tried to focus on the screen ahead of him. If he could figure out how to gain a majority of the public’s support, then he could apply some pressure to Kiara and Landon prior to the Conclave vote. Not that he was naive enough to think that would be enough to assure that he would regain his title, but at least it would be one more piece of ammunition in his arsenal.

“The protests outside of the Capital aren’t going to be as easily quieted as the ones in Valtoria, Victor,” Francine Giorano stated, leaning forward and gesturing across the table to Victor Blussé. Blussé was the moderate on the panel, while Giorano was a staunch traditionalist. “They have had fears about the role the essentially-American Walkers played in our government for years, and look how right those fears turned out to be.”

“How is any of this the Walkers’ fault, Francine? This can all be traced to Barthelemy Beaumont!”

“The Conventus Nobilis was written into our foundational laws for a reason, Victor,” chimed in Willa Hyllop, the final member of the panel, added to the program in the past year to bring in a more modern, pro-democratic viewpoint.

“Surely you aren’t saying you are on the side of Beaumont, Willa! He represents an even less progressive faction than Liam Rys ever did.”

“I may not agree with everything he stands for, but I will always support measures that place some checks and accountability on our monarchy,” said Hyllop with a shrug. “Besides, the fact that Rys surrounded himself with yes-men and granted titles and appointments on the basis of friendship since he ascended the throne did little to convince me that he was the ‘progressive king’ he swore he was. He was more of the same, just without the aggressive rhetoric of his father.”

“And look how that turned out! Lest we forget, he stood by while Auvernal brought warships to our shore last year,” added Giorano.

Liam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Giorano and Hyllop were never on the same page about anything, and here they were, agreeing that he had been an ineffectual king. He tuned out Blussé’s response, knowing that some lukewarm rebuttal from him was going to do little to bolster his confidence. The fact was simple - his fall from grace was widespread. There were few left who saw him as worthy of the title of king. He had failed, completely and entirely.

 “Liam?” Olivia’s voice cut over the television. 

Liam opened his eyes to find her staring at him from the lounge’s doorway, a frown cutting across her face. He forced a smile as he gestured for her to join him. “Just taking a little break from hearing how incompetent I am.”

Olivia’s green eyes narrowed at his poor attempt at humor, but she strode over to him, joining him on the couch, undoubtedly taking in the blank notepad, the untouched stacks of documents, and the glass of liquor that sat on the table in front of him. “Well, that’s the perception we’re going to have to work to change.”

He tipped his head to rest along the back of the couch, sighing as he did so. “I know, Liv. It just seems so impossible at the moment.”

She didn’t say anything for several excruciating seconds. He rolled his head to the side, taking in her face, concerned eyes boring into him as she slid a hand around her neck, her blood-red nails digging into her skin. “We’ve got months still, Liam. Calling our goal impossible is premature.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right, and I’m all ears if you have any recommendations for where to start.”

“Well, I got confirmation that Landon and Emmeline’s driver is loyal to us, so Ray is going to approach him at the Derby this weekend to see if he might be willing to earn a little extra cash by divulging some secrets. And their new head of kitchen has a brother with significant gambling debts, so that’s another lead worth pursuing.”

“Sounds good, Olivia.”

“Now, as far as next steps for you, I was hoping you might give reporters a few minutes for questions before the derby.”

Liam swallowed, his brain scrambling to come up with a reason, any reason, against her suggestion, when his phone vibrated on the table, the name “Bastien” flashing across the screen.

“Why is he calling you?” Olivia asked. All Liam could do was shrug as he leaned forward, grabbing his phone and swiping to accept the call.

“Bastien?”

“I don’t have long,” he started, not even taking the time for a greeting. “I don’t know if you are in touch with Drake, but if you are, you need to let him know that they need to get out of Athens.”

“What are you-”

“Rashad is negotiating with Greek authorities right now to allow the King’s Guard to be the ones to make the arrest. We are waiting on the tarmac for clearance to fly to Athens.”

“How-”

“He’s requesting Greek surveillance of their hotel until we get there. They need to leave now.”

“Bastien, what-”

“I have to go.” And then, the line was dead.

Liam sat there, numb and frozen, trying to process the slew of information that had just been dumped into his lap by his former head of security. 

“What the hell is going on?” Olivia’s voice drew him out of his daze, prompting him to set down his phone on the couch, digging frantically through the stacks of papers.

“I need my burner.” He heard his voice as if he were an outsider observer. It was thin and shaky, frail and panicked. His hands shook as he felt around the table in front of him, knocking over a pile containing reproductions of the accounts of the last Conclave, dozens of papers spilling onto the floor.

“Liam, what the fuck did he tell you?”

“They know where they are. We have to warn them.” All his frustrations and pain related to Drake and Riley suddenly felt so petty, so ridiculous. The stakes were higher for them, always had been higher for them. They were about to get arrested over wanting to keep custody of their daughter. And while they left him to fend for himself, left Cordonia in a state of political upheaval, he knew that was a price that was wildly unfair.

“Who knows where they are? Rashad?”

“Yes,” said Liam, shoving more and more documents around the table. Where was his burner?

“How does he know?”

“I don’t know! Where the fuck is it?” Liam swiped his arm across the table, books and papers flying, the sound of glass breaking echoing through the room as his scotch tumbled to the ground.

A strong set of fingers with sharp red nails slid around his wrist, holding him still. He took a rough breath as he turned to face Olivia, who was eyeing him as she tugged her own burner out of her pocket, only breaking his gaze to glance down at the screen, tapping three times before holding it to her ear and looking back at Liam.

The few seconds of silence on her end were maddening, but then she was speaking, her voice curt and all business. “Drake, authorities are coming. You gotta go. Now.”

Liam tried to rein in his rapid breathing, tried to calm his heart rate down to something more human. “The King’s Guard is flying into Athens. They are leaving now. Rashad asked for Greek surveillance until-” but Olivia nodded at him, cutting him off.

“I don’t know how. But your hotel is about to be under Greek surveillance until the King’s Guard arrives, so you guys have to get moving. Good luck.” She hung up at that, letting out a massive sigh. “Shit,” she breathed out after a few seconds, her eyes bouncing back and forth before she slammed them shut, clearly planning and preparing.

Liam felt her fingers trembling around his wrist for just a second, but then she let go. She pushed herself off the couch with a flourish. “Find your burner. I’m gonna make some calls, but we need to destroy any evidence that we were in contact with them,” she said, nearly jogging towards the door.

“Olivia…”

She spun around and let out a little breath before walking back towards the couch. Her hand settled on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze as she gave him a nod. “We warned them as soon as we could, but we need to be the ones worried about the big picture right now. And things will only be worse for them if you and I are arrested, right?”

All he could do was nod. She was 100 percent correct.

“Okay, so find your burner. I’ll be back in a little bit, Liam.” And with that, she was off, a woman on a mission, leaving him sitting there, shaking on the couch, just trying to find his footing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Hana shook hands with the final citizen, a woman in her late 40s who had been born and raised in Valtoria.

“Thank you so much, Your Grace,” she said, smiling as she returned the handshake.

“Of course. Just because our country is going through a period of transition doesn’t mean that I am going to ignore the needs of Valtoria’s citizens.”

The woman thanked her again before turning and exiting the formal dining room, the location Hana had chosen for the first Citizen Open Forum she’d scheduled. The large table provided ample seating, but the room was close enough to the main entrance to make it unlikely that anyone could wander into private areas of the estate without being caught by staff. 

Olivia had been irritated when Hana had told her she was opening up the estate to the public. “You are giving Barthelemy’s people free access,” she told her. But Hana knew that she couldn’t just sidestep her duties as a duchess. Not only would that weaken people’s perception of Liam by association, but morally she just couldn’t do that. The country was in such turmoil because of a few members of the nobility trying to wrest power from some other nobles. For her citizens to be left neglected due to the whims of the highly privileged was ethically something she couldn’t allow to happen. So she’d hosted the forum, hearing directly from Valtoria’s residents what she should prioritize to improve their lives, but made sure to instruct her staff to notify her immediately if anyone was caught wandering too far from the dining room or bathroom. It was the best she felt she could do under the circumstances.

However, the last citizen had now vacated the estate, and Hana couldn’t help but let out a contented sigh. It had gone well, she thought. She had clear budgetary priorities to request at the upcoming meeting between the social season’s derby and the stop in Lythikos. Plus, one of the leaders of the protesters in front of the estate had come, and conversation with him had been productive. Obviously, she couldn’t outright tell him that she wished she could be right out there with them, carrying a sign that said “She’s their kid,” but he had given her a knowing smile when she told him she saw no reason to intervene when Cordonia citizens were just exercising a right to free speech. He had all but promised her that the protests would stay peaceful and would not target her for her assumption of the role of Duchess of Valtoria.

As she wandered into the kitchen to make herself some tea, she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. She turned on the tap to fill the kettle with one hand as she moved to answer the call with the other.

“Olivia, how are you?” she asked, watching the kettle fill.

“Do you not answer your phone anymore?”

Hana frowned, pulling the phone away from her ear and swiping the screen. “I don’t have any missed calls, Olivia.”

“Not this phone. I’ve called you no less than ten times.”

She turned off the tap and set the full kettle on the counter, a nagging thread of anxiety and fear worming its way into her heart with that statement. “What’s wrong?”

“Turn on the news.”

Hana spun around, finding the remote laying on the island and turning on the television mounted in the eat-in nook.

“-these exclusively obtained photos show a woman who appears to be the former duchess, Riley Walker, conversing with the former Crown Prince, Leo Rys, at a bar in Athens.”

The screen filled with a low-quality image, clearly zoomed in several times. The lighting was a sort of orange color, and the faces were grainy and fuzzy, but there was Riley, although her hair was clearly dyed a much lighter color. Leo’s face was only seen in profile, not as identifiable, but he was obviously talking to her. The screen changed to a new photo, Leo a bit more recognizable in this one, passing Riley something.

“Oh no,” said Hana, leaning against the counter.

“-clear evidence of collusion between the former Crown Prince and Riley Walker, who has been charged with treason and kidnapping of the monarch,” the anchor droned on, but Olivia’s response drowned out the quiet volume of the television.

“Yeah, that’s an understatement. So what was so pressing that you were ignoring your burner?”

“I had the forum with the citizens, and I thought if I was carrying two cell phones, that might-”

A massive groan from Olivia cut her off. “Whatever. Well, you need to destroy your burner. Now.”

“But what about Riley and-”

“I warned them. Hopefully they are able to get out of Athens, but nothing else we can do there. It’s time to protect ourselves.”

“Olivia, what-”

“I gotta go check on Liam. Destroy the phone, Hana. And don’t call me.”

“Why can’t I-”

“-Liam is definitely going to be questioned since Leo is now known to be involved. We can talk at the derby, but if they start monitoring our phone records, I don’t want to give them any reason to think we are scheming.”

Before Hana could as much as tell Olivia she understood, she heard the line click dead. Taking a few seconds for some calming breaths, she centered herself before she climbed the stairs to her quarters, a pit of dread cementing itself firmly in her stomach with each step. She reached her room and opened the top drawer of her dresser, pulling the burner phone out from underneath her nylons. Sure enough, she had dozens of missed notifications from Olivia, and a couple from Maxwell as well. Well, she knew what those were regarding. No need to deal with them at this point. Instead, she walked over to her dressing table and grabbed her manicure kit.

She wandered down the hallway towards the lounge, taking in the quiet and calm. It was odd; the estate probably had more people in it currently than it had for most of the time Riley and Drake had lived there. Hana didn’t feel compelled to aggressively minimize the staff presence like they had, far more used to having employees around from her upbringing. But staff were expected to be as discreet and silent as possible, to make themselves scarce, particularly in the private quarters. 

No one had ever called Riley quiet. There was a certain vibrancy she brought to any room, and her voice and laughter were always echoing through the halls. And even though Drake wasn’t the most talkative, he certainly would quip, snark, and joke in the privacy of his own home. Of course, once Bridget was born, there was more noise and energy and life than ever before. Now, it was just Hana and the corgis. The estate felt hollow and soulless.

Once in the lounge, Hana shut the door behind her firmly. Anderson glanced up, but quickly draped his head back over Vera, all the dogs curled up on their giant cushion in the corner. Hana knew that the maids had cleaned the lounge yesterday, so she was unlikely to be found there. She sat down in one of the armchairs, and pried the cover off the back of her phone using her cuticle pusher. All the electronic components stared up at her, ready for her to do her worst. But before she could bring herself to kill the only connection she had to her best friend, she flipped the phone over and sent one last message to Riley.

I love you all. Stay safe. I’ll find a way to get in touch when I can.

Letting out a sigh, she turned the phone back over. She spent the next 15 minutes prying off motherboards and any chips and cards she could find, dropping them one by one into her container of acetone nail polish remover. Then, she removed the battery before placing the remaining elements into the fireplace. She would just have to store the battery under her floorboards until she could figure out how to safely dispose of it. 

She started a fire, then curled up on the couch, tugging a quilt over her lap as she watched her only connection to the first person to show her unconditional love melt and warp, eventually turning to ash. Tears started trailing down her cheeks, dripping onto her blouse and the quilt, but she didn’t care. She was devastated - for herself, for her found family, and for her country. At some point, Anderson jumped up to join her, nestling in against her legs.

“I miss them so much,” she said, dropping a hand to the top of his head. “So, so much.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Bridget was wailing in her crib, but Riley didn’t have time to calm her. She needed to pack. Now.

When Drake had called her, she knew something bad was happening. He’d left with their passports this afternoon to take them to a cousin of a friend of someone Drake had met at the restaurant, someone who was supposed to be able to help with fake documents and forgeries. The plan had been to change their names and their country of origin, allowing them to catch a flight to the States without getting stopped at the airport. The final destination once there hadn’t been decided. Drake had wanted to go to Texas, but Leona’s presence scared Riley. She had already sold out their safety for a quick payday once before.

But that debate was a moot point now. So was the uncertainty about this unknown forger on whom they were relying. Drake had called, frantic and alarmed, clearly running and somewhat out of breath as he spoke to her. Telling her Olivia had called to warn them they were about to be arrested. Telling her to pack. Telling her they needed to run.

So Bridget was unceremoniously dumped into her travel crib as Riley tried to shove everything into the duffel bags from Leo. She knew she should leave the impractical things, like the framed photos, but those would incriminate their friends. So they had to come with. Toiletries seemed essential, too. Some of the clothes were going to have to get left behind. Some of the toys as well. She had to be able to carry everything in one trip. She had to get to the car as quickly as possible. 

She knew it had probably been less than five minutes since Drake had called, but it felt like she was moving too slowly, taking way too long. Drake hadn’t given her any sort of time frame. Who knew if Olivia had even given him one. But for all she knew, police were rounding the corner, waiting for her in the hallway, about to burst through the hotel door. So she shoved and crammed and squeezed everything she could into the duffel bags and the diaper bag. Those would go over her shoulders, the crib would collapse and go in one arm, Bridget in the other. That would have to be good enough. 

Once she was sure that the bags were as full as they could be, she pulled Bridget out, placing her on the floor as she scrambled to collapse the crib, fumbling with the locking mechanism for just a few seconds before it folded in on itself, allowing her to tuck it into her elbow. By some mad miracle, Bridget was hanging close by, not trying to crawl away to explore and cause trouble. Maybe she was frightened by the way Riley was acting. Regardless, it was a blessing.

Knowing she was as ready as she was going to be, she loaded everything up and grabbed Bridget, pausing just briefly to juggle their possessions as she opened the door. She didn’t bother closing it behind her, just moved as quickly as she could with her load down the hallway, down the stairs, through the lobby, and around the corner to the street where their car was parked. No one tried to stop her or talk to her, so she took the time to toss everything on the ground and properly latch Bridget into her car seat. Then, she threw everything in the hatchback before climbing into the passenger’s seat and locking the doors behind her. Bridget continued to cry, but there was little Riley could do to comfort her at this point. All that was left to do was wait for Drake.

Drake had told her to meet him in the car, but she didn’t like feeling exposed, sitting where anyone could see her during broad daylight. Add to that the fact that she was in the passenger seat, so she wouldn’t even be able to make a quick getaway if need be. Her piss-poor driving skills were just one more area where she was making their life harder, but there was no way to fix that right now. All she could do was hang tight. She was contemplating what in the car she could use as a weapon if it came down to it when her phone buzzed. She swiped to answer instantly when she saw it was Drake’s number.

“Drake, where are you?”

“Around the corner from the hotel. You in the car?”

“Yeah. How did-” but before she could get her question out, she saw Drake through the driver’s side window. She let out a little yelp of surprise before reaching over and unlocking the door, handing him the keys as soon as he sat down. 

He didn’t even bother to say anything, just started the car and eased off the clutch as he shifted into first gear, pulling out onto the road. Bridget quieted soon after they got moving, but Riley didn’t feel any better as the yelling and screaming subsided. She just stared at Drake, one hand braced on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift, his neck and shoulders so tense and coiled, he looked ready to burst.

“Where are we going?” she finally chanced asking.

Drake shook his head, never taking his eyes off the road. “I don’t know. Out of Athens.”

“Then why are we making so many turns?”

“Don’t know if we were being watched or followed. Gotta lose anyone who might be tailing us.” His voice was clipped and frayed. He sounded about five seconds away from losing it completely. Riley wanted to hold his hand, to comfort him in some way. But she didn’t want to distract him, both from driving and from the tiny amount of control he had over his emotional response to everything that was unfolding. After all, they weren’t safe yet. So she just nodded and grabbed her phone off her lap.

“I’ll pull up some maps, okay?”

He nodded and let out a rough breath at that. “Thanks, Walker,” he said before flipping on the radio. “Can you try and find us a news station?”

“Drake, I won’t-”

“I’ll translate.”

And so they were off, unsure where or how far they needed to go to be safe. All they could do at this point was keep moving forward.

Perma: @walkerswhiskeygirl​ @octobereighth​ @kimmiedoo5​ @mom2000aggie​

TRR/TRH: @twinkleallnight​ @iaminlovewithtrr​ @mskaneko​ @axwalker​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @marshmallowsandfire​ @kingliam2019​ @sirbeepsalot​ @texaskitten30 @princessleac1​ @ladyangel70​ @debramcg1106​ @masterofbluff​  

Drake/MC:  @no-one-u-know   @iplaydrake​

FoF: @burnsoslow​ @bobasheebaby​

[babbysquid]

Not A Whiskey Drinker Pt. 5

Author’s Note: Okay I’m having so much fun writing this and I think this is my favorite chapter so far. I’m still looking for a beta reader/someone to bounce ideas off of btw!

Warnings: some sexual tension, anxiety, more suggestive comments from Whiskey

Word Count: 2,836 (these chapters just keep getting longer oops)

Not A Whiskey Drinker Masterlist

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

As you stood in front of your closet you contemplated what to pack. The two of you were going to be away for a week but Whiskey never bothered to tell you what to bring or what the two of you would be doing. You assumed it would be some sort of training but everything you knew about secret agent training was from Bond movies. You decided on some workout clothes, a pair of jeans that were comfortable but you could still move in, random shirt, sports bra, and a thick jacket. Last minute you added a standard work outfit and a cute dress just in case. Your packing was interrupted by your phone ringing.

“Hey Parker.” you said, answering the call and pressing the speaker button so you could continue with your packing.

“What’re you doing this coming Friday? My parents are coming to visit and they miss you!”

“Oh I have to go on a work trip with Whiskey.”

“So you guys have nicknames for each other now huh?”

“It seems to be a rite of passage to have an alcohol related nickname at this company.”

“Is it also a rite of passage to go on a work trip with you boss?”

“Parker it’s not like that. He just needs me to trail him during some normal meetings. It’s the same thing as here but just at the Kentucky branch.” you recited the coverup that Whiskey had told you.

“Ugh I swear to god if you don’t make a move on this man I will.”

“I don’t know how your boyfriend would feel about that.”

“You know I’m joking. Just stay safe hm?” Parker said, without realizing how accurate her words were. You definitely took into account the possibility of coming back to the city with a couple new bruises.

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

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

Your anxiety for the rest of the weekend was higher than you wanted considering you had no idea what to expect to happen on the trip. It didn’t help that you hated flying. Hopefully you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself in public. But considering it was Monday morning at 5:30 and you were making your way to Whiskey’s apartment you really didn’t have time to focus on your phobia.

You knew that Whiskey would have to live in a fancy building considering the part of the city he lived in, but stopping in front of one of the nicest brownstones you had ever seen was still a shock. Putting your bag down you pressed the doorbell and waited. Swinging open the door there stood Whiskey.

“Ready darlin’?”

“As ready as I can be I suppose.”

After hailing a cab and starting the drive to the airport the two of you sat in silence. Surprisingly, it didn’t feel awkward. You welcomed the comfortable quiet considering it was still early. Eventually the cab pulled up to the airport and the two of you made your way through security. It wasn’t until you were sitting at your gate that your anxiety started to bubble up again, your leg bouncing. Suddenly a warm hand was place on  top of your thigh, stopping your anxious tic.

“Nervous?”

“I have a fear of flying.” you said quietly, not looking at Whiskey.

“Don’t worry darlin’ I’ll be here the whole time. You can hold my hand if you need.” said Whiskey in a calming voice. You were surprised he wasn’t being flirty about it. Hearing this comforted you. Whiskey didn’t remove his hand from your thigh til you had to board the plane.

You sat down in your seat and took a deep breath as the flight attendant starting going through the safety procedures, the plane rumbling as it made its way down the tarmac. Closing your eyes you braced yourself for takeoff. You were pretty much okay during flights minus takeoff, landing, and turbulence. Whiskey noticed your hand firmly gripping the arm rest and reached over to grab it. He gave your hand a quick squeeze. You welcomed the gesture, knowing he was doing it out of kindness.

“I’m right here darlin’. You can squeeze my hand as tight as you need.”

Overall the flight was pretty smooth, only hitting turbulence once or twice. Even though the flight wasn’t as bad as you were expecting, you never let go of Whiskey’s hand.

“You did it.” said Whiskey, smiling at you once the plane landed.

The old lady who shared the trio of seats with you two leaned over.

“You two make an adorable couple.” she said. “Reminds me of my youth.”

You couldn’t help the blush that crept up your neck. You corrected her, but as Whiskey stood up to grab his bag from the overhead container she leaned in close. 

“With the way that man looks at you he sure as hell wants more with you than whatever your current relationship is.”

Grabbing your bags the two of you made your way out the airport. Outside stood a man, also in a cowboy hat, that you recognized from the meeting Whiskey had you sit in on.

“Tequila.” he said, stretching out his hand.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you.” you said, taking his hand and giving it a shake.

“Oh the pleasure is all mine.” as he gave a wink.

Whiskey gave Tequila a firm pat on the back and put your bags into the back of the car and off you were to Statesman Brewery, Kentucky location. You were staring out the window, you had never been to Kentucky before. Sure it didn’t have as much to look at as New York, but you were still interested nonetheless.

“So Y/N,” said Tequila, looking at you through the rearview mirror. “I heard you’re stuck with this old man.”

“Yeah well this old man still has some moves.”

“Is every agent here a caricature of a cowboy?” you said, meeting Tequila’s gaze in the mirror.

“I have a feeling you’ll fit right in.” Tequila flashed you a bright smile.

The rest of the car ride was filled with Tequila and Whiskey chatting and catching up. You occasionally chimed in to make a snarky comment at Whiskey’s expense, Tequila consistently laughing at your remarks.

“I am not an old man Tequila! I still got it.”

“Well how old are you?” you asked.

Whiskey coughed and mumble some number in the late 30s/early 40s.

“And when did you last get it?” said Tequila.

You laughed loudly at Tequila’s joke. He seemed to have the same penchant for taking the piss at Whiskey. Whiskey looked at you through the rearview mirror, your eyes were shut tight, mouth open with the most beautiful laughter coming from it. Sure he’d heard you laugh before, but never this deeply. He’d suffer through thousands of Tequila’s insults just to hear you laugh like that again.

The car stopped and you got out, looking up at the building in front of you.

“A whiskey bottle? Really?”

“Come on, I’ll show you to where you’ll be staying.” said Tequila, motioning for you to follow him. Grabbing your bag you trailed Tequila to a cellar filled with barrels.

“I hope I’m not staying here.” Tequila just smiled and revealed a secret door. Below the cellar was the most high tech space you had ever seen. Everything was white and silver — it looked like a scene out of a sci-fi movie.

“This is where you’re staying.”

Tequila walked down the halls, smirking at the way you ogled at your surroundings. Making a sharp turn the two of you stopped at a door. Opening the door you were greeted by a simple room that had the same color scheme as the rest of the building. It was sleek and modern and felt like the nicest hotel room you had ever stayed in. Placing your bag on the floor you padded over to the bed and experimentally pushed the mattress with your hands. It felt expensive.

“Like the place?” came the drawl that you recognized as Whiskey’s. You had to admit that Tequila’s accent was attractive, but it was nothing compared to Whiskey’s deep baritone.

“Come on it’s time to meet Champ.”

Swallowing you followed Whiskey and Tequila out of the secret doors and into the main building to the top floor. It felt like deja vu. The three of you reached a set of wooden double doors. Inside was a nice boardroom that reminded you of the one in New York, but nicer, if that was even possible. At the head of the table sat an older man in a brown cowboy hat who you could only assume was Champagne.

“So this is the new recruit eh?” said Champagne, standing and striding over to shake your hand.

“Thank you for considering me Mr. Champagne.” you said, grabbing his hand and giving it a firm shake.

“Oh just call me Champ. Come sit, we have some information to discuss. Whiskey, Tequila, if you could give the two of us some privacy.” he said, waving his hand to dismiss the men.

As the doors closed behind Whiskey and Tequila, the younger man spun around.

“She’s somethin’ else Whiskey.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“If you don’t make a move I will.” replied Tequila, leading against the wall with a glint in his eyes, eyebrows raising. Whiskey’s jaw tightened, his hands making tight fists. “Wish I was training her.”

Whiskey rolled his eyes at the remark and waited outside the boardroom for you to finish with Champ. Fifteen minutes later the door opened to reveal Champ, a wide smile on his face.

“Ah, Whiskey you’re still here, perfect. Come on in.”

Whiskey followed him and sat down in the chair across from you. Taking a seat with a grunt Champ turned to Whiskey.

“I have to admit while I was originally… apprehensive about your suggestion to have her as an agent she surprised me.” you smiled at the compliment. “She’s quite the charmer, a spitfire too.”

“Don’t I know it.” muttered Whiskey.

“While I do like you quite a bit,” Champ said, turning to face you. “I’ll still have to see how you are in action. You start training with Whiskey tomorrow. 6am sharp.”

You swallowed. You were not an early riser and the thought of having to do what was most likely going to be the toughest workout of your life at such an early time created a pit in your stomach. It was in this moment that you realized this was real.

“Come on darlin’. I gotta show off a bit before we see what you’re made of tomorrow.”

You and Whiskey left the boardroom, you gave Champ and small wave and he smiled back.

“I like Champ a lot, reminds me of my grandpa.”

“Champs a good guy. Bit stubborn, but you’re no stranger to that concept.”

“Shut up.” you said, giving Whiskey a little shove.

Whiskey and you returned to the secret entrance and walked through the underground offices. You were met with a room the size of a basketball court that had a huge window so you could see inside from the hallway. Walking inside Whiskey positioned you at one end of the room and made his way to the other end.

“Now I want you to stay right here.”

Opening one of the lockers that resided in the sparring room he grabbed his training lasso. Sauntering back to his original spot his hands tingled and he wiggled his fingers. He always got a surge of excitement when the opportunity to use his lasso and whip arose. Slowly he started to spin the rope, a circle forming. The rope circle rose as it spun and in a flash the rope was around your mid section. With a sharp pull you were dragged towards Whiskey, luckily he caught you before you could fall forward, your hands stuck in the rope. Whiskey smirked.

“Deja vu darlin’.” He pulled the rope over you head and you were freed.

“Wow.”

“I’m quite handy with a rope. Now,” he took off his Stetson, placing it on your head. It was a little big on you and you had to tip it back slightly so it didn’t block your vision. “I want you to go back to your spot and don’t move.” Whiskey’s eyes darkened with the serious tone. You swallowed and nodded your head, unsure of what was about to happen.

Once again his hands started to tingle. As much as he enjoyed his lasso, his whip is where his love truly resided. Cracking his neck he grabbed the hand attached to his hip and quickly released the rope that was positioned snug inside the mechanism.

The whip cracked loudly and your eyes widened. Whiskey smirked at your response, the usual reaction to people seeing him use his weapon for the first time. Raising his eyebrows he cracked the whip once again. You felt a whoosh of air next to your face, the crack sounding loud in your ear and suddenly the hat he had placed on your head was laying on the floor next to you. Your jaw dropped. You weren’t going to tell Whiskey, but there was a warmth that spread to your abdomen. He was hot. Whiskey just smiled and walked over to pick up his hat, placing it back on his head.

“Tomorrow, here, 6am just as Champ said.” the sound of Whiskey’s voice broke your trance. “We’ll do some simple sparring and see how you fare.”

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

You groaned at the sound of your alarm clock stirring you from your sleep. You dreamt of whips and cowboy and the distinct smell of Whiskey and something you couldn’t quite place. Pushing the button to stop the blaring of your phone you glanced down.

5am.

Sighing you pulled on a pair of leggings, your sports bra, and a tight shirt that wouldn’t get in the way of your movement. Making your way to the small cafeteria that was housed near your room you made yourself some breakfast and of course, a cup of tea. At 5:50 you made your way to the sparring room, mentally prepping yourself for whatever Whiskey had in store.

You were greeted by the backside of Whiskey. You were surprised by his appearance. Instead of jeans or a suit he was wearing some shorts and a tight t shirt, cowboy boots replaced by sneakers and hat nowhere to be seen. Whiskey could feel your eyes searing into the back of his head. Spinning around he greeted you with a smile.

“See something you like?”

“Sorry,” you coughed. “I guess I was just expecting the standard get up from you.”

Whiskey just shrugged and before you knew it you were on your back, the wind knocked out of you.

“Whiskey what the fuck.”

“Gotta be prepared darlin’.”

Taking a deep breath you stood back up and rushed the man. The two of you grappled for a bit. Admittedly, Whiskey wasn’t expecting you to stay upright as long as you had, but once again he gained the upper hand and knocked you down. You came face to face with Whiskey, his weight pushing into you. You narrowed your eyes and quickly flipped Whiskey on his back, straddling him and pinning his arms. His eyes widened, a surge of arousal running through his body.

“Got ya.” you said with a proud smile.

The next few hours were spent with more sparring. Whiskey teaching you proper form, how to sweep your opponent’s legs, and some boxing moves. Of course you took a break for lunch and several pauses for water. Around 4pm you were exhausted, a sheen of sweat covering your body. Without thinking you pulled off your shirt to use it as a towel, exposing your sports bra underneath.

“Didn’t know I was gonna get a show.” said Whiskey. You threw your shirt at his face.

“You’ve seen me in less. Shut up.”

Whiskey chuckled, remembering the sight of you wrapped in a towel and he tossed the shirt back to you.

“Well it seems like we’re done for the day. Same time tomorrow, same thing.”

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

The next couple days were spent the same way. You met Whiskey in the sparring room at 6am, grappled for a bit, took a lunch break, did some more practice, and ended around 4. You groaned at the end of today’s practice. Your shoulder feeling sore from a punch Whiskey threw.

“Same thing tomorrow?” you asked, rotating your arm trying to loosen your arm up.

“We’ll meet at 9,” you furrowed your brow, confused by the added three hours. “pm.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“We’re starting a new lesson.”

“At 6pm?” You shook your head. “I don’t follow, why would we spar that late in the day?”

“Not sparring sugar, seduction.” you shivered at the way the word rolled off his tongue.

“What?”

“Fighting isn’t the only way to get information. You’ll meet me at the bar tomorrow and you’ll try to get information out of me using your feminine charm.”

You blinked, shocked by Whiskey’s words.

“See you then. And remember: I’m not Whiskey tomorrow, just another adversary.”

And with that Whiskey left you standing in the middle of the room, mouth wide open.

taglist: @absurdthirst @space-daddy-owns-me @agentwhiskeypussyindulgence @littlemissoblivious @agingerindenial @mack4676 @loveforminato @thats-one-tender-foot @xwingsandohs @purplepascal042 @harami-mami @nova646 @lesbianlena @computeringturtle @cassandras-nest @fourtypercent0ff @demoneyesanddamagedsouls

[stnscat]

Ship: Mammon/Fem!MC

Rating: M (Mature)

Warnings: Alcohol, violence, cursing, some making out wink wonk

Summary: MC and Mammon go to a casino, but when Mammon gets too caught up in a scheme and leaves you hanging, another demon decides you’re easy prey. On the bright side you get to see why Mammon is the second strongest. Ends in angst/comfort.

So perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea.

You stumbled along the corridors of the casino, mind cloudy. You turned your head ever so slightly, and immediately felt your sight delay for a second. You stopped and blinked, trying to catch your breath. Psh, you thought, you were fine! Totally. You only had a couple, or maybe four shots. Everything went to Mammon’s tab anyway, so you weren’t counting. Or maybe you stopped counting after the third glass of whatever-ma-thing-california-tequila you had. It was sweet and nice and...

Actually, you felt a bit weird. This wasn’t a corridor anymore, but since when? You were holding your shoes because it was just so much harder to walk around in heels -- why had Mammon insisted in heels anyway? Heels were an invention to make women’s butts smaller and running away harder! That was a movie quote, you were pretty sure.

You sat down on a couch. It was black and felt nice to the touch. A cold breeze came from an open balcony, and while you did feel a bit chilly now, it also made you feel less... Weird. You weren’t particularly used to being drunk. Hopefully you’d sober up at least enough to remember most of the night tomorrow.

You looked down, elbows on your thighs, deep in thought. You were here so Mammon could scam people, and you’d be the pretty, well-dressed assistant to help take the “clients��” mind off of how sleazy everything out of his mouth sounded. Like a few magic words and “was that your card”s, it was easy money with cheap tricks, and he said you’d get a cut off of it. You didn’t need the money, mind you, you just wanted to spend some time with him. But he disappeared while talking to some people, leaving you at the bar while chatting to the bartender. As revenge for leaving his so-called partner you decided it was only fair to order a drink on his tab. And then another came, and another...

You squinted, feeling dizzy, and let out a breath. You put your head up, eyes closed, and took in the fresh air. If you kept your head down like this you’d only feel sicker, right? You opened your eyes again, and instead of an almost empty room you saw a stranger’s grin a bit too close for comfort, truth be told. You felt your stomach turn, and you were sure it wasn’t the alcohol.

“And you must be MC, correct?” she said your name with a strange emphasis to it, her grin never diminishing, like you do when thinking of an expensive meal you’ll treating yourself to after a long day.

“Yeah...” you hesitated. “And you’d be...?”

“Oh, just a friend of your friend. He asked me to take care of you.” she replied, a hand snaking its way up your arm. You were too drunk to react in time. It felt like both an eternity and too quick to process, your stare blank towards the action, and then you lazily looked up at her, painfully aware that you weren’t going to move quickly enough for anything. Yet, you felt your heart beat faster and adrenaline running through your veins. You knew damn well she was lying, no matter how smashed you felt. You sobered up a bit, and though not enough to actually be sober, it felt like enough to not stumble on your own feet if you ran. You didn’t know if that would matter, but it was better than the alternative.

The demon’s look was sickeningly sweet still, yet sharp. Like she was waiting for your move, to read if you actually saw through her poorly told lie. Your drunk mind trailed off to Hansel and Gretel’s candy house, and how it was used to lure them to the witch. And how you didn’t leave any crumbs for Mammon to follow you and hopefully save you. No, you were alone, and painfully aware of her grip on your arm. You tried smiling back.

“Ah, okay.” you replied, trying to pretend you bought it. “So, um...” you paused, trying to think of anything, absolutely anything, to keep the façade of oblivious intoxication. “Have you seen my friend? He’s like... Tall and dark and stuff. White hair.”

“I know, dear, don’t worry. I’ll take you to him in a second, if you’ll just come with me.” she pulled you lightly, surprinsingly gentle for someone who saw you as prey. You followed her lead, and for a second her grip on your arm was released. Your feet moved before you had a chance to think, and once you did you felt a sharp pain on your arm. You inhaled, not taking the time to look at the possible injury. You know the demon was at your back and would pounce if you slowed down for even half a second.

You slid from one corridor to another on your bare feet and ran down a flight of stairs, never having realized you were upstairs. You heard a groan behind you, and tears stung the back of your eyes. Suddenly you were tumbling, and everything stung. You know for a fact you didn’t trip. You felt pressure on top of you, only intensifying the pain, and black and white spots danced in your vision, but through them you could still make out the demon readying herself. You let out a pathetic hiccup and braced yourself.

Instead you heard a yelp, and the demon’s weight being lifted off of you.

Letting out the breath you were holding, you try to turn and look, a glimmer of hope in your heart. You grunt as your new aches flared up, but you still managed to prop yourself up with an elbow.

Right next to you was Mammon, demon form unleashed, holding the other demon up high by the throat as she struggled to put her feet down to no avail. He had an aura of seriousness about him, which, yes, you would expect from any of the brothers if you were ever hurt, but with Mammon it was different. You’re far too used to him gloating and boasting and jesting even when the situation is dire. But now you can’t help but notice there was no humor to his eyes. A tint of ferousciousness colored them instead.

“Tell me: what do you think you were doing?” his voice had a deep, cruel tone instead of his usual goofiness. He let the words hang in the air as the other choked, hanging just as much from his grip.

The position you were in began to hurt, and you tried to sit up further. A sharp pain blazed through your chest, and you wheezed, arm wrapping itself around the area. Shit, did you break something?

“Hey,” Mammon’s voice spoke higher than the pain. Cruelty no longer laced it, but it still sounded so much more serious than usual. “how bad is it?”

“Pretty bad.” you coughed back. You noticed the demon squirming more, and guessed he squeezed harder. “Don’t kill her.”

“I don’t, usually.” he paused, and the demon’s squirming seemed to stop as well. You could barely process it, but the next second a wall had been cracked, her body making more unpleasant sounds than your own. Your breath hitched, but Mammon wasn’t even paying attention to the demoness anymore. Instead he’d directed his attention at the staff members, who all seemed to be either gasping or gulping. “Get her information. Pass it to Lucifer. He’ll want to have a talk.” the scorn, disdain, hatred. All of it was clear in his tone.

And then he turned to you, changing from his bare chested demon form, to his previous attire that night. A simple suit, carefully disheveled, sunglasses on top of his head.

“Tell me if it hurts, alright?” his tone was kind now, barely a whisper. His hands were gentle as he lifted you up from the ground and walked out of the casino, carrying you. You placed your head on his chest. You could still smell his cologne as the haze from before eveloped you, this time both it and the exhaustion putting you to sleep.

You woke up to the sound of yelling outside your door. The dim light from the corridor was just enough for you to make out that you were back at the House of Lamentation, and that the bed you were in was yours. From there you could also hear people speaking loudly, the volume of their voices only increasing.

“... been so stupid, as usual!” a deep voice was exasperated. Satan or Lucifer, you’d say.

“Shouldn’t we just take her to a hospital?” another deep, but this time softer, voice. Beelzebub, you guessed.

“No, he said nothing was broken. It’s best she rests here, where we can keep an eye on her.” it was definitely Lucifer this time.

“You could’ve killed her, you know?” a soft voice snapped. Asmodeus. “How could you just leave her at the bar like that? Did you even notice she wasn’t there anymore?”

“I gotta say, that was a dumbass move even for you.” Leviathan chimed in.

Through all that Mammon kept himself quiet. That is, until now.

“I’ll apologize to her when she wakes up.” his voice was tiny, the façade of an egocentrical bastard completely gone. That seemed to surprise everyone, in fact, as there was no more snark thrown his way.

You understood. Yes, he shouldn’t have left you alone, but maybe you shouldn’t have overdone it like you did. You were mad you got ditched, but you didn’t blame him for being attacked.

“Alright.” Lucifer was the first to break the silence. “We’ll bring you some tea later.” Mammon probably nodded, as there was no audible response before you heard steps getting farther away from your door. Then it opened, and you instinctively closed your eyes as if to pretend you didn’t catch any of the previous conversation.

You heard someone approaching, stopping right next to your bed, and then kneeling. He searched for your hand on top of the bed, the slight cold from the lack of a blanket entirely covering your arm quickly substituted by the heat of his own hands. He held it for a second, and you felt your face burn with his stare. At this point you were sure it was Mammon. He sighed, almost as if to confirm your suspicions, and carefully placed your knuckles on his forehead. You felt a bit of movement on your side, like he’d buried his face on the sheets.

“I’m sorry.” he muttered, voice not above a whisper, muted further by the bed. He then moved your hand, lips gently touching it as he continued to speak, this time a bit more clearly “I should’ve been more careful. I thought... I don’t know what I thought.” he confessed, pain and regret finely threaded in-between his words. ”I thought you’d be fine. I didn’t know you would get completely drunk and run off to where I couldn’t see and... And it’s my fault, even if I put it like that. And I know it. I’ll do better.”

His hands squeezed yours ever so slightly, as if he was afraid to break you further.

“I’m supposed to protect you, damn it...” his voice shook. “I’m supposed to not be such a screw up all the damn time. I’m the second oldest, and if I can’t even protect a single human from one minor demon...” he sighed, letting the thought hang in the air.

“But you did.” you replied, attempting a smile. Mammon looked back at you, startled, eyes sparkling with what you weren’t sure were tears or not “I’m sorry I made you go through this.”

“You...” he stuttered. “Ah... You heard all that, didn’t you?” he sounded sheepish, looking away. “It’s not your fault. You know it’s not your fault.”

“And it’s not yours either.” You attempted to move your other hand, change positions. You wanted to caress his hair, tell him, show him you were fine and everything would be okay. Instead you hissed as pain shot through your chest.

“Ah! Hey, hey!” startled, he gently held your shoulder in place. “Don’t... Don’t do that. You’re already all purple and blue, you don’t need more bruises. Humans are too fragile.” he tried to go back to his usual persona, but it was much less effective than he was hoping for. He frowned, looking at the bandages on your arm, where you know for a fact the demon had put her nails and cut you. You weren’t sure you wanted to know how deep those went. “I’m sorry.”

“C’mere.” You simply replied, and before he could say anything else you put your hands on each of his cheeks, pulling his forehead to join with yours. “I’m okay. I’m here. And I don’t blame you.”

“That makes one of us.”

“Shush. Now, come on, I was saved by the Mammon. My knight in leathery armor, my first man. How could I ask for more?”

He chuckled back.

“So how much did we make anyway?” you asked. You hadn’t let go yet. You didn’t want to. Mammon was sitting on top of your nightstand at this point, comfortably pressed against your bed and you, and he, too, made no effort to separate himself from you.

“Well...” he trailed off, his cheeks burning slightly. “Ya know, it was s’pposed to be a surprise, but I don’t think you’re getting out of this bed ‘till after the weekend, so I guess I could tell you...” again he let the words hang in the air before adding “For a price.”

“A price?” you replied, feigning ignorance.

“C’mon, I’m the Mammon. My services, whatever they are, always come with profit for me, myself and I.”

You hummed in response, face inching closer. Now your cheeks were burning as well, noses tickling each other so close they were. “I see. And what kind of profit was the incredible, showstopping Avatar of Greed thinking of?”

“Hm...” he let out. His breath was hot on yours, eyes half-lidded. His hands held the bed frame, arms encasing you in his heat even more. “There’s a couple of things...” A hand moved, carefully, tenderly, to the back of your head. You lifted yourself slightly so it could be easily placed, which only made the two of you all the closer, lips almost brushing. You didn’t move away. He didn’t move either. 

And then he did, pressing his lips to yours. Carefully, passionately, yet with an underlying hunger. You pressed further, fingers tangling in his hair. He was Greed personalized, but you had your own spells of selfishness. He noticed, his own cravings fueled by yours. He moved from your lips to your jawline to your neck, trailing kisses wherever he went.

“You--” he said in-between kisses. “That’s just one of the things you can do to pay me for information.” he had moved from the nightstand, now almost on top of you on the bed. Your heart beat fast seeing him like that. Disheveled, now with no care, no measures and appearances, simply messy because you did it and he wanted you to do it.

“Yeah?” you breathed out only to immediately bite your lip. You didn’t expect to be out of breath already. He placed his forehead on yours again, a grin spreading accross his face.

“Would you go on a date with me?”

[dnarez]

Chapter 1

Inside an apartment in the middle of NYC, a gigantic polar bear humanoid got inside a totally pink and feminine room, only to find it full of boxes, and with no one inside it.

"C-CAPTAIN! YOUR DAUGHTER VANISHED AGAIN!!!" Bepo, the gigantic humanoid polar bear, shouted running around the penthouse until he found Law on his office. "Captain!! Your daughter-!"

"I heard you the first time Bepo!" Law, a pro hero and a surgeon, shouted to him, his tattooed hand holding a cup of hot coffee "She didn't 'vanished again' I send her to get my last documents from the hospital" he drank his coffee in one go and went back to dismounting his computer.

"B-but! Do you really think that is a good idea to let her go alone!!? It's 3AM!!!" Bepo shouted while flailing his arms around.

"I- DO YOU THINK I AM SOME KIND OF IDIOT TO GO SEND MY OWN DAUGHTER AT 3AM ALONE IN NEW YORK!?" The Death Surgeon looked pissed at his best friend, but regret it when he saw Bepo making 'the face'. "STOP ACTING CUTE!"

The doctor huffed and scratched his chin "I send her with Penguin and Shachi, don't need to worry, now go back to packing" he turned around and went back to dismounting.

"If you send Shachi and Penguin, why send her too? Dondon-chan was almost done packing her room" Bepo went to the bookshelf and started packing the books.

"Only me, and my family members can take my patient's information, it would be useless to send them, to do something that they won't be able too... besides... she needs to get some fresh air... Moving across the world and away from her friend is probably taking a tool on her."

"W-what!? But she is totally normal and smiling saying that she will be able to make a lot of friends there and how she can't wait to decor her new room and-!"

"BEPO!" the polar bear looked at his captain surprised by the aggressiveness of his voice. "She's trying to be positive... she doesn't want to leave, but she knows that it's useless to ask me to stay"

Even with his back turned Bepo knew that his captain was sad about having to move. "Can't we stay? Why do we have to go back, I still don't understand"

Law sighed "I know it was sudden, and I too would prefer to stay, but... we can't... that bitch-" he sighed again and rubbed his hand on his face "her mother wants this apartment, and she already got the judge to make me give her my house! And my CAR! AND MY SUMMER HOUSE! I JUST-!" The surgeon buried his face on his hands.

Bepo waited patiently for his boss to calm down.

"I don't have a choice, Bepo WE don't have a choice, her mother got everything she wanted from me, even a damn allowance for god's sake!" Law went back to dismounting the computer to have something to do with his hands.

"Rocinante-sama said that you agreed to all of that, so why are you upset?"

"I didn't have a choice Bepo! If I didn't agree to all of that she would get my damn daughter! And I would never see her again! That bitch of a woman would abuse Y/n-chan without a second thought to try and get back at me!" Law got up and started passing back and forth on the office "And before you ask about 'how do I know that' I know because that's the reason I'm getting a damn divorce! That- that woman assaulted my daughter for years without me knowing!! She knew that I would do anything for our child, and she took advantage of that" huffing he finally settles down on his office chair that still needs to be dismounted "she got more than half of my salary, my 3 houses, my boat, my investments, I gave her everything, and if she asked for more I would gladly give her more, if it meant to have my daughter with me, I would even stop being a hero"

Bepo smiled at him "But what will we do when we get to Japan? It's been so long..."

"We will go our separated ways, my daughter and I will live with my father for the time being, I will need to search for a new hospital to work, and a school for her, another hero agency, and- argh! OMG! so much to do" he scratches his head and notices his every day polka dotted hat wasn't with him "What-? Where?" He looks around and doesn't see it.

"DAD! WE ARE BACK" you run to the office while holding no boxes, and a familiar polka dotted white hat on your head.

Law huff and gives his daughter a small smile "Give me back my hat"

"Here" you kiss his forehead and put his hat on his head

"By the way... where are my boxes?" He looks at your empty hands.

"Shachi and Penguin put it on the living room"

Bepo gives you two a side glance and notices Law signaling for him to get out "I will go help them!"

You wave at him and Bepo closes the door behind him, leaving the two of you alone.

"Y/n... we need to talk" Your father got up, towering over you, but he sat down on the floor and patted the floor besides him.

You sit beside him "Is there anything left to talk about the divorce?"

He shook his head "it's about the changes that will happen on our life from now on"

You nod and lays your head on his lap, he pets your hair with care and keep talking "As I have told you before, our lifestyle will change drastically, since your mother has more than half of my salary and the money from my bank account, we will have to live with my dad for some time."

Your eyes shine at the mention of your grandfather "WE WILL LIVE WITH GRANDPA ROCI!!!?"

Law chuckles and nods "For about a year, so that I can get on my feet and be able to afford the living expenses, you will be homeschooled until the end of this year, and then we will see what we do about your school"

You look up at him and frown. "I'm scared"

He's grey eyes meet your eyes, Law is surprised, you hardly express yourself, or tell anyone what you are thinking. "And why's that Y/n-chan?"

"I saw on the news that the number of crimes committed are higher in Tokyo than it is in New York... I want to learn how to protect myself...please"

The surgeon nods agreeing "You will need to defend yourself, I will get in contact with Whitebeard and see if one of his sons can help you with training."

"I hope it's Sabo or Marco! They are the best teachers on the Whitebeard family!" You give your father a big smile.

He smiles back and looks at your arms and legs "Are you feeling any pain? I know you don't need the crutch anymore, but if you are in any pain I-"

You stop his rambling by patting his cheek softly "I know dad, I'm fine, really, after we got out of the hospital I'm better"

He sighs relieved "Okay, but know that-"

"If I need anything or feel any type of pain I can come to you straight away, I know dad."

He huffs and nods "Now go back to packing, don't forget to name the boxes, the delivery company will get our things in one hour, and our flight is in 5 hours, take a shower and make sure your favorite clothes are on your bags and not on the boxes, and-"

"DAD! If you keep going we won't have time to finish everything!" You get up and pouts at him

"Okay okay! Go do your things" you hear him chuckling as you walk away.

. . . . . . ...................... The end of the next chapter has the visuals of the characters

[havokangel]

come back...be here (bucky barnes x reader)

a summer romance au, with an inevitable ending.

♡

a/n; this is part 2/3 of my bucky series, inspired by taylor swift’s album “red,” link to part one is here. please leave some love on ao3, as well :)

link to ao3

If I had known what I'd known now

I never would've played so nonchalant

I’ll be coming to see you tonight. Usual time, yeah?

                         Buck

It’s strange how a handwritten note can distract you from your responsibilities all day. Your co-worker gave you shit when Bucky left it for you, at his usual table. She kept commenting on your rosy cheeks, knowing how this boy affects you. Even when you retort back, protecting your real feelings from her, she knows how hard you’ve fallen for him.

(Ever since the start of the Summer, when he got comfortable with you, he’d start leaving you notes on napkins. You haven’t told him that you have them all; tucked away in a box, memories from this Summer with him.)

It’s late August now, and things in your small, oceanside town are slowing down. Tourists are leaving their expensive rentals, beaches are clearing out by the day, kids are going back to school, and the traffic in the diner that you work at has slowed exponentially. Normally, you’d be looking forward to work slowing down; that means less work for you, as the usual elderly people who reside here all year begin being regulars again.

But this has not been a normal Summer, all thanks to him.

James. Or, Bucky, as he prefers. You learned that the first time he introduced himself to you, with that easy smirk he always wears.

His family came to stay here for the Summer; their first real vacation, after working their asses off to get to be where they are today. He’s your age, 19; still looking for his place in the world, being reckless when he can because hey, now’s the time to do it, when people expect you to make mistakes. You on the other hand? You’re 19 and stuck in a small town, taking care of a younger sibling as your father drinks his days away, mourning the loss of a wife, the mother to his children.

She passed a year ago, and ever since then, you’ve bared the weight of the family’s responsibilities, the family’s reputation, everything to keep things running smoothly. When you’re the responsible one, there’s no time for fun, for recklessness, and certainly not for boys. So back in June, when a boy with gleaming blue eyes and an air of easiness sat in your section, you fell hard and you fell fast.

Being with Bucky is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. It’s like coming home, after being on a sunny beach all day; a burn blossoming on your cheeks, sand still between your fingernails, and hair damp from the water. It’s like driving through an empty road in the countryside, wind whipping through your hair as you think to yourself, it can’t get better than this.

June and July had passed quicker than the sand in an hourglass falls. Every day was spent with him, regardless if you had work or not. He’d pick you up on his motorcycle, every day being a new adventure. It was hard, in the beginning; allowing yourself fun seemed impossible and wrong on so many levels - who would take care of dinner? Who would take care of your sister? Your dad? It all seemed insane, but Bucky made it better. He always knows how to make you feel better.

You swam, you hiked, you laughed, you kissed...every day felt like a dream that could be so easily altering the way you think. Within a few weeks, he turned your gray and dreary outlook on life colorful, almost reviving the life that you lived before everything snowballed into treachery.

But as the amazing, tiring days with him passed, you knew the end was coming. It was inevitable, really.

He’s a Brooklyn boy. Born and raised, through and through. He was going back home in August, and not just back home; he was planning on enlisting.

Army, he had said. Got shit else happening in my life. Might as well.

He told you nonchalantly, in the beginning, when all you would do is talk at the diner, on your slow days. You didn’t think much of it, and he didn’t bring it up again; even when you’d be wrapped up in your sheets together, the easy pillow talk escaping his lips.

But the note he leaves you today doesn’t give you the normal butterflies and rosy cheeks. It leaves you with a sinking gut feeling that you’ve been shoving down down down ever since he kissed you for the first time. So, as you scrub the counters while watching the clock, anxiously awaiting the end of your shift, you prepare yourself for the end; the end of the best thing you’ve ever had, and arguably… the best thing you ever will have.

---------

12 A.M., sharp.

Plunk, plunk.

The small rocks that hit your window make you shoot out of your bed, practically tossing the book you had been reading to distract yourself.

(More like rereading the same page, too anxious to think of anything else.)

Pushing up on your window, you chuckle quietly to yourself as Bucky looks up at you, grinning that stupid grin he always has. His hair looks damp as he rakes a hand through it.

“Watch out princess, m’comin’ up.” He calls out, as quiet as he can be in the situation.

“Don’t break any bones, please.”

“You know I won’t.”

He jumps up to the tree adjacent to your house, legs swinging to support himself as he easily scales the tree. He’s pretty adept at this, with nights and nights of practice to ensure that he doesn’t fall. As if it was nothing, you move aside for Bucky to reach the window sill and easily swing himself in. You can’t help but bite back a smile as he shuts the window quietly, and turns to face you.

“There’s my best girl,” he says, stepping towards you. His hands cup your cheeks as he presses his lips against yours. “I missed you.”

Like it always is, you melt like butter as he touches you and kisses you like that. How could you not, with someone like him?

“I missed you too.” You answer, but your voice is muffled by his lips. Pulling away from you, he tucks your hair behind your ears.

The look he gives you now is different than he normally looks at you. His thumb runs against your lower lip, his eyes slowly tracing the features on your face. Neither of you says anything for a long time, afraid to shatter the delicate silence as he memorizes the way you look in this moment.

You know what he’s doing, and you start to do the same. Neither of you wants to say it, but, you want to remember this, you want to remember each other.

Leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him, after a long silence, his brow furrows and his hands slide to hold your waist; fingers gripping your skin there.

“Touch me,” you sigh against his mouth, hand gripping the hair at the back of his neck. Something in your voice tells Bucky that tonight is going to be different, from all the other times you’ve slept together. “Please-just-please, Bucky.”

So he does. He lifts you like you weigh absolutely nothing, lips never leaving yours. With each touch, each kiss, each gasp; you pathetically attempt to stop your brain from thinking about what’s bound to come.

Afterward, as you lay in the humid, hot air in your room, you’re in his arms. You’ve grown accustomed to this; his sweaty skin against your equally sweaty skin, the window propped open, relishing in the air that hits you. But unlike those nights, no one has said a word yet. And no one does, until he clears his throat, kissing your cheek.

“My flight leaves early tomorrow.”

The words cut through you harder than you thought they would.

“Oh.” That’s all that you can manage to stay. It’s all you can say. The pounding in your head starts then, and you feel as if a rug is being pulled from beneath you.

“Would you want to… see me off? I know Rebecca would want to say goodbye, too.” He says it carefully; his voice an octave higher than normal. He’s nervous.

You don’t look at him, because if you do, your dream-like state that you’ve been living in will leave you and you’ll be left alone with the reality that you started in. So you just nod slowly, burying yourself in his arms, and reply,

“Yeah, I can do that.”

----------

The last time you were in an airport, you were just a girl, saying goodbye to your grandparents. You hadn’t thought of the next time you’d ever be back here; it was so far away from where you resided.

But here you are, with Bucky, a boy who’s changed every fiber of who you are. He’s leaving you to go back to his life in Brooklyn, his new life that he’s going to be making for himself. Your heart is practically breaking already as his parents and sister leave you two to say your goodbyes.

Bag in hand, and a baseball cap on his head, Bucky just grabs you in his arms. He’s strong, and he knows it - you certainly know it - but you don’t care that you feel like he’s breaking you. You’d gladly let him break you, a thousand times over if it meant you never would have to leave his arms again.

He kisses your head, and that’s when your first tear falls. He pulls away after a moment, the sadness in his eyes apparent.

“Hey-hey. Don’t cry, princess.” His thumb comes to swipe under your eye, and you just hiccup. This is pathetic, you think, berating yourself. “I had a lot of fun this Summer.”

“I did too. I just-I don’t want to go back to reality, I guess.” You manage to answer, wondering how he can be so calm when he clearly wants to just...stay. With you.

“It’ll be okay. I have your number and address. I promise I’ll call and text, and hey, maybe even send you a napkin note.” He reassures, chuckling a little, which makes you smile slightly. “There’s my favorite smile.”

Your rosy cheeks return, and he kisses you again. His family calls his name, and he sighs in annoyance, turning to make a face, a face that reads yeah yeah, I got it. I’m coming. Turning back to you, he regains his focus. He’s doing it again -- memorizing you.

“You changed my life, you know that?” Bucky all but whispers.

Regardless if he knows it or not, he’s making this harder for you. You can’t really blame him, though.

“You changed mine too, Buck.” You reply, voice shaking.

With another call from his dad, all he can do now is kiss you; and boy, does he kiss you. He grabs you and it nearly makes you gasp, but it’s quickly swallowed by his mouth on yours; no cares in the world -- which is classic for him. You don’t care how much of a mess you look as he pulls away, and he says,

“I’ll see you later, ok?”

And as he brought color and life back into your life, the world around you feels as if it fades to black and white, returning to the state he found you in, as he walks away to the terminal. In another life, another time, you’ll find him again.

But for now, you mourn. You mourn what you could have had with him, and you drive home, radio on silent. Allowing yourself to be sad is the only way you can remind yourself that what you had with him was real and that something like that for you is possible.

-----------

This is when the feeling s i n k s i n,

I don't wanna miss you l i k e t h i s.

[harringtonstudios]

dusky pink.

plot: you’re called in for an emergency photoshoot, not really knowing what to expect, things can surprise you. part 2!

A/N: holy moly this is the most i’ve written! glad i got back in a mood. this is for the anon that asked about a model!au earlier, i hope you like it. 

taglist: @iamdorka​ @no-shxt-sherl​ @bakerkells​ @findingmyth​ @rosegoldrichie​

When you had gotten an emergency casting call from Galore Magazine, you hadn’t expected all this. YBeing an established model, you were  known for your unique photoshoots and uprising through runway walks. You had been in the industry for almost a full year now, feeling like a veteran when you were constantly being booked by different agencies. 

Galore Magazine was one of your first employers. They had allowed you to explore your creative side while posing for the camera, launching what the industry called your “brand.” You had developed a strong, personal relationship with the executive assistant of the magazine, and she would always offer you jobs when you felt like you needed something to do in order to keep busy. 

-

The phone call came in at 3am, disrupting a night out. You had immediately picked up, walking to the outside of a club after seeing her name flash on the screen. Within minutes, in a slightly tipsy haze, you had agreed to a two-day long shoot, confirming that you would be able to fly out in a few hours. 

The alcohol had settled into your bloodstream when you rushed to your apartment, throwing clothes into a duffel bag. The flight you were supposed to be on was scheduled to leave soon, and you knew that check-ins were going to be a bitch, so you grabbed a bagel from the 24/7 corner deli before setting off to get to the airport. 

It was only after you had settled into the airplane seat that you realized you weren’t exactly sure what you had said yes to. The alcohol from last night had drained out, leaving you with a pounding headache and you grimaced as the plane started lifting off. Pulling out your phone, you texted the editor of Galore, shamelessly asking what you had signed up for the night before. 

There were a few emojis exchanged and then finally, you got the creative plan for the shoot. It was supposed to be a Romeo-and-Juliet aesthetic, inspired by the 90s Leonardo DiCaprio version. You grinned, remembering how fully obsessed you were with that movie in your teenage years. The vibes had always seemed so beautiful, popping shadows and gold chains, it was something you were eager to emulate. 

As you read through the notes, you realized that they had a rapper coming in to play as Romeo. This threw you off, there was a certain way you modeled and when collaborating with others, you liked to be prepared beforehand. It wasn’t anything bad necessarily, you just liked to know your partners so that you could tweak your methods to their needs better. You took a breath before opening up Google to search up “Machine Gun Kelly.” 

There were a shit-ton of articles to sort through, mostly relating to his new album release, “bloom.” Scrolling through the different new posts, you bit your lip. He seemed nice enough,a few things catching your eye straight off the bat. The tattoos that lined his skin were amazing, creating a tinge of jealousy as you looked at all of them. Tattoos were your weakness, having about ten smaller ones yourself. This was going to be interesting.

-

Landing at the airport, you caught a Lyft straight to the set. Since this was an emergency fill-in, you didn’t have time to do much else, sighing as the Galore studio came into view. You loved being in California, the sun shining down on you, cobbled streets, lazing living and you really wanted to enjoy all of it. 

Right away, the front desk assistant shuffled you off to the hair and make-up room. The team had a very specific vision to execute and you smiled as their creation came to life. Putting on a natural, dewy look, you sat up straight, trying to make this process as easy as possible for everyone.

 Picking up tweezers, they aligned gems under your eyes, making the color pop. Lightly dusting some shimmery powder on your cheek, they moved on to your hair. Straightening it, they applied some sleeking oils before tying it back a little. All of a sudden, one of the top makeup executives came rushing in, holding a swatch of eyeshadow. 

“Put this on her! And make sure her lip color matches. Let’s go, hurry it up,” he clapped, throwing the palate to the artist working on you. You shut your eyes, letting fingers run over your eyelids. The color was a dusky pink and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt good. 

Applying some Vaseline on your lips before the pink gloss, you pursed your mouth together, blowing a kiss at the mirror. Glancing up, you caught the eye of someone standing behind you. 

Turning around, you looked up to see none other than Machine Gun Kelly, leaning against the doorway. His makeup seemed to be already done, matching the glow of yours. His hair was done up, looking soft and sharp at the same time. There was a scar on his cheek, cut open and you saw the eyeshadow shade splotched around it, creating dusky pink on top of his cheekbone. He was smiling at you and you felt a blush start to rise on your cheeks. 

“Promise I’m not that cocky. Ever,” you muttered, trying to avoid his warm gaze. 

“Cockiness is sexy,” he laughed, leaning over to reach out a hand, “I’m Kells.”

“Y/N,” you responded, giving him a loose handshake. 

“Oh c’mon, I know you can shake harder than that,” he grinned, gripping the tips of your fingers in his hand. 

“I mean, I could. But why would I want to?” you responded cheekily. Raising his eyebrows, he smirked, dropping your hand. 

“HEY YOU TWO! GET INTO COSTUME,” the executive assistant shouted as she passed by. Walking behind you, she leaned in to whisper, “Looks like someone’s getting along,” before going on her way. Feeling the blush climb just a little higher, you got up off the chair. 

“Costumes that way,” you murmured, pointing down the hall as Kells followed behind you.

 “So, you know a lot about Galore?” he asked and you smiled thinking of all the memories you had in these very rooms. 

“Yeah, they gave me my first big break yanno? I’ve been eternally indebted to them since,” you explained, letting your fingers trail over the walls covered in autographs. 

“Wow, big ups to you. Most people forget where they come from, glad to see you sticking to your roots,” he spoke as you turned into the room. 

“Mhm,” you whispered, immediately getting distracted by the racks that hung around the room. Colors popped out from every corner, complementing the golden shades on your faces. Reaching out to touch one of the satin shirts, you felt Kells nudge your elbow from behind. 

“I don’t think we’re supposed to touch those,” he murmured, nodding to the sign that the costume designer had hung up. 

“They’re beautiful, I have to. Fuck the rules,” you muttered, picking up one of the hangers off the rack. 

He gave you a look before mumbling, “That’s what I like to hear,” and then both of you were grabbing hangers, pulling clothes off of the racks. 

“Where do we change?” he asked, hands bunching up the expensive silky shirts. You knew the changing stations were next door, but you didn’t want to really walk over. 

Looking up at Kells, you smirked before going, “Right here?”

“Oh? Don’t have to tell me twice,” he said, throwing the shirts on one of the chairs in the room. Reaching to pull over his white t-shirt, he laughed, seeing your gaze on his bare torso. 

“Sorry, I um, haven’t seen so many tattoos on somebody,” you stuttered out, hands itching to reach across and touch. 

“I think that’s what they all say,” he said, running his tongue against his teeth. 

“Shut up, get naked,” you scoffed, turning around to hide the red of your cheeks.

 Pulling off your top, you reached for the first shirt you had grabbed, a deep blue button down. It wasn’t meant for you, reaching down to the tops of your thighs as you closed one of the lower buttons. The shoot was going to be in lingerie anyway, and you knew Kells would see your body, so there wasn’t any reason to hide it right now. Turning around, you presented yourself, throwing up jazz hands. 

He guffawed, palms reaching up to cover his mouth. Widening your eyes, you leaned over, putting your hands on top of his. 

“Stop, are you trying to get caught?” you shushed him, looking at the door for the costume director to walk in at any minute. 

“I’m sorry, you just look great, I. I can’t even come up with words,” he snickered as you moved your hands back. 

Flipping him off, you took a step back, admiring his look. He was wearing a deep pink suit, jacket open to reveal all his tattoos, pants tailored to his exact body shape. Looking him up and down, you wet your lips, tongue reaching out involuntary. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly a shout came through the door. “What is going ON? Y/N you know better,” came rushing out of the mouth of the director. Snapping at you, she pointed over to a rack filled with satin lingerie. 

“Get the white one on now. Take this shit off,” she said, reaching for the blue shirt you’d done up. Huffing, you shrugged it off, before walking over to the clothes for you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see her fussing over Colson’s fit, playing around with the buttons on his jacket. 

Shrugging off your sweatpants, you pulled on the white outfit. It fell to the bottom of your legs, slits done meticulously to show off your legs. The lace on it was beautiful, and you hesitated before stepping back around, suddenly getting a little bundle of nerves in your belly. 

“Perfect! Come here,” she muttered, reaching for something on the table. Picking up a set of angel wings, she turned you around, snapping them over your back. 

You saw Kells staring at you from his spot by the door, and the heat in his eyes was unmistakable. The bundle turned into a flutter and you swallowed, trying to calm yourself down. This was just going to be another shoot, nothing special. 

-

Oh how wrong you were. Right off the bat, the director asked you both to go across the street, in the mansion they had booked for the day. This was your first time exploring and you had quietly marveled in the grandeur of it all. There was a high wall, taller than you were, but coming to right around Colson’s chin. The director lifted you up, and then you were posing on top of the wall, bare legs soaking in the sun as Colson played with your hand, standing right below you.

For the first few shots, you looked out in the distance, trying not to catch his eyes. It had gotten intimidating to make eye contact, especially now that you were in the headspace of Juliet. After a couple of takes, you got pulled aside, softly told to “Act like you’re in love, dammit,” and then popped back up on the wall. 

Taking a breath, you steadied yourself as Colson put your palm in his, and made eye contact, softly smiling as he looked up at you. The pose felt like forever, eyes boring into each other, and then the director shouted, “Amazing! Ok next,” and you were being pulled down into the next area. 

-

A few solo photos later, they put you back on the wall. Colson stood in between your bare legs, leaning into you. His arms braced on either side of your hips. The close proximity made you nervous, and you let out a soft laugh as his hair brushed against your cheek.

“Shhh,” he whispered, barely moving his mouth. 

“You shhh,” you whispered back, leaning your shoulder against his.

 Instead of responding, he simply reached his hand over, putting it slightly over yours. Tapping his thumb against the back of your hand, he slowly moved it into a stroke and you pulled your legs together instinctively, forgetting he was in between them. 

You saw the smirk build in his face and you let out a breath, trying to not let him get to you. 

“What’s wrong,” he murmured, still moving his thumb agonizingly slow on your hand. Nudging him with your thigh, you tried to shut him up as the camera flashed. 

“Done. Okay, both of you. Take a break, go change. We need to get a few more shots in before the sun goes down,” the photographer shot out and you pushed Kells back a little, throwing him a grin before sauntering back to the studio. 

-

Switching into the green lingerie suit, you looked at yourself in the mirror. This one was a smaller one-piece and you glanced at your booty, making sure it looked good for the pictures. Pulling the suit up a little, you admired the way the lace cupped your boobs, perfectly covering your nipples. Picking up a towel from nearby, you wrapped it around before crossing back over to the mansion. 

Kells was standing there in the blue shirt from earlier, and you let out a laugh, seeing the perfect way it hung off of him. You reached up, adjusting his collar, smiling as you saw him gulp. 

“I think you look better in this,” you murmured, fingers delicately running right over his neck. 

Stepping back before he could respond, you took off your towel, putting it on the desk nearby. Turning back around, you saw his face, eyes eagerly running up and down your exposed body. 

“I think you’d look better in nothing,” he mumbled, hand rubbing at his chin. You felt yourself get warmer at his comment, and you threw a wink at him, before walking over to the director who was setting up a beautiful red car. 

“Game plan?” you asked, clapping your hands together. 

-

Ten minutes later, you were balancing on Kells’ thigh as he sat on the car’s hood. One leg hitched over him, the other extended as you stood straight. You pressed your torso against his, arching into him, throwing your head back so you could bare your neck. 

Placing both hands on his chest, you laughed as the director yelled at Colson, placing him into position. He wrapped a hand around your back and you felt yourself naturally lean into the touch. His other hand came to rest on your bare thigh, pressing in slightly, fingers barely there. He looked straight at you, and you feel your heartbeat pulse as the camera started clicking. 

“Y/N! Wrap your arms around his neck. Yes, now look right over at the camera,” came the shouts from the director. Colson pulled you closer, bringing the arm around your waist closer. He turned to face the camera too and you watched the director falter for a second before rushing over to take the picture. 

“Holy fuck! That was incredible,” she yelled from behind the screen, and you giggled, letting your head fall on his shoulder. 

-

“Y/n, you’re free to go for tonight,” the executive director said, pointing around the rest of the crew to pick up different set pieces. You nodded, grabbing your duffel bag as you turned to face her real quick, “Uh, what about Kells?” 

He was across the room, getting more eyeshadow dusted onto his cut, typing away on his phone. The director looked over at him, before looking at you, eager to get away with him. 

Rolling her eyes, she went, “Listen, I need him for a few more shots tonight, but he’ll be done in half an hour if you wanna hang around. I know Gina’s been dying to catch up with you.”

Grinning, you dropped your bag on the seat. Pulling your hair up into a ponytail, you walked past Colson to the hair station. Gina had been the first friend you’d made modeling and she was incredible at her job, a creative visionary when it came to not only styling hair, but keeping it protected when crazy things were happening too. 

Leaving the room, you heard Colson go, “Hey, wait where’s Y/N going?” and you smiled, knowing that you weren’t the only one feeling the heat building between the two of you. As you got out of earshot, you could still hear the director yelling, “Don’t get your panties in a twist!” and you almost walked smack into Gina herself, snickering at his panic. 

-

Half an hour later, you were clinging onto Gina’s words as she told you the latest horror story of a terrible famous client. She had broke out a bottle of rosé, sipping on bubbles while you picked at the platter of fruits you had stolen from the front desk. There was a knock on the door, and you hopped off of the counter, pulling it open. Kells stood there, back in his regular clothes, Converse knocking against each other as he stumbled a little. 

“Hey,” he mumbled. 

You lifted your cup up, taking another sip, raising your eyebrows, urging him to continue by nodding slightly. 

“So, I’m kinda stuck in the area for the next two days for this terrible photoshoot I’m doing with this horrible girl -” he started, and you interrupted him, choking on the rosé as it hit the back of your throat, laughing. 

“Sorry, uh, you were talking about this awful girl?” you continued, getting most of it out of your system. 

“Right, yeah. Would you wanna get dinner with me?” he finished, making that eye contact again, creating a warm fuzz in your tummy. 

“Yeah, yes. Yeah,” you blurted out, rosé and nerves rumbling within you. 

“You said that already,” he grinned as you went over to pick up your bag. 

“Shut up,” you grinned back, trying to hide your smile. 

“Bye Gins, I’ll catch you tomorrow,” you said, leaning in for a hug. Kissing your cheek, she whispered in your ear, “Get some please. I need to know, for science,” and you let out a belly-laugh before following Colson out the door as he waved goodbye. 

It was all in the name of science right? No harm, no foul.

[goindownshipping]

Take me back to the night we met

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker)

Rating: Teen (T)

Notes: This has been sitting in my drafts for literal ages, so I decided to post it to give me motivation to write chapter 2... here’s hoping that happens soon y’all!

Warnings: None, meet-cute/awkward Starker. More to come in chapter 2!

Word count: 7k

Summary:

Peter and Tony are both hesitant to head back to their small town for a close friend’s wedding. Little do they know they’re from the same town, and little does Peter know that Tony Stark knows who he is. Awkward boys flirting ensues.

Or, Peter works for Stark Industries and is beyond shocked when bumps into Tony on a trip home.

Read on AO3

Peter sat at his desk, looking out the floor to ceiling windows, still unable to fathom how he got to this point in life. From his desk in the open floor plan of Stark Tower, he had a panoramic view of New York City. Every day he looked out on the skyline that people would travel thousands of miles to catch a glimpse of just one time. Thinking back on how he got to this moment, he remembers being one of those people - eager and hopeful for something more, something greater. 

He glanced down to his desk, eyeing the invitation he’d been steadily ignoring for a few too many days. Any reminder of his hometown was a bittersweet one and, for some reason, this one was particularly tough to swallow. Having left home immediately after graduating high school, Peter cut ties with too many people and burned several bridges. He didn’t regret a second of it though; he worked hard to earn his scholarship to NYU and would have never let that opportunity slip through his fingers. In the years since he moved to New York, his trips back home became less frequent and his ties to the town dwindled more than they already had. Sure, he was still close with MJ and Ned, and obviously May was still the most important person in his life. But otherwise, there was nothing left for him back home. 

With those thoughts swirling around his head, Peter looked down at the wedding invitation with a twist in his gut. May’s best friend was getting married and there was no way he could miss it. He may not be particularly close with Pepper anymore, but at one point, she was like family to him. He knew she would want him there, and so would May. There was no way he could disappoint either of them. Besides, it would be a good excuse to spend some time with MJ and Ned - he knew he didn’t get back to see them enough. 

With his mind made up, Peter quickly filled out the card indicating that he would be attending by himself. Who doesn’t love attending a wedding alone, he chuckled to himself. Yes, he’d have May and his friends with him, but that didn’t replace the longing he had for someone else by his side. Peter had worked hard and tirelessly through college and to get his foot in the door at Stark Industries. For years he told himself that he didn’t have time for anything too personal, always prioritizing himself and his career. Now that he was settled in his job, he allowed himself to want other things, other people. He had a few close friends in the city, but never sought out anything romantic. There had been a few fleeting flings here and there, but Peter always ended things before they could get serious. 

The shrill ringing of his desk phone brought Peter back to his surroundings and he shook off the lingering thoughts about his loneliness. As he chatted with someone from the developer team, he slipped the RSVP in an envelope and placed it in his stack of outgoing mail. He pulled up his group chat with Ned and MJ to let them know he’d be in town for the wedding.

Peter: Welp, guess who’s coming to Pepper’s wedding?

Ned: HELL YES! 

MJ: I’ll believe it when I see it, Parker.

Peter smiled to himself. Maybe this wouldn’t be as awful as he was expecting.

Several floors above Peter on the executive level of Stark Tower, Tony Stark himself was pacing his office, whispering into his phone at his childhood best friend. 

“Can’t I just send an expensive gift? Come on, you guys will love it. I’ll send you on your honeymoon. Where do you want to go? I’ll send you anywhere. Just please don’t make me come back there.”

“Tony, come on. You’re my best friend. I know coming here isn’t exactly your idea of a vacation, but I need you here for this. I’m getting married for fucks sake. You’re not getting out of it.” 

Tony sighed loudly into the phone, he knew Happy was right. 

“I know, I know. I want to be there for you, I really do. You know it’s not about you - you know how hard it is for me to be there." 

“I know Tones. I know it’s not the same, but, you’re family to us. I can’t get married without you standing up there next to me and embarrassing me the whole time."

Tony snorted at that. 

“Well you know I can’t pass up an opportunity like that. Just tell me when and where, and I’ll be there."

“Thank you, Tony. It means the world to me. I’ve gotta run, but I’ll send you some more details soon. Love you man."

“Love you too Happy. I’ll talk to you soon."

As Tony hung up the phone, he took in his surroundings. His floor of Stark Tower loomed higher than several of the buildings in the vicinity. He could see for miles from this vantage point. This right here was everything he’d ever dreamed of - This city, this job, this company. He rarely thought about who he was prior to all of this, but Happy’s wedding was changing that.

-

More than 20 years ago, Tony left his hometown in the dust as he sped off to MIT at the young age of 16. He’d never been particularly close with anyone back home, except for Happy, so it was easy to leave and never look back. Upon arrival at MIT, he worked harder than anyone around him, determined to prove everyone from his small town wrong, especially his parents. People in Springdale didn’t believe in leaving for something better. Everyone graduated from high school and went to the local university, only to stay trapped with the same 10,000 people for the rest of their lives. 

That was the opposite of what Tony wanted. From a young age, Tony knew he was different. He couldn’t get enough of the meager machine shop his school district had and was quickly building engines far beyond the scope of his instructors. After the engines, he got his hands on some of his own tools and resources and began building computers and robots in his garage. He never bothered with making friends, much preferring to spend time building and tinkering at home. 

All of these experiences helped him to get through high school faster than his classmates, and before he knew it, he was accepting a scholarship to MIT. His parents didn’t understand, but with the value of his scholarship, their opinions were irrelevant. The summer of his 16th birthday he packed up his most important possessions and moved to Cambridge without thinking twice. MIT was nothing like his small hometown and Tony thrived surrounded by like-minded students and faculty. He practically drooled over the technology and resources he had at his fingertips.

As soon as he could, Tony started doing research in one of his professor’s labs. There were very few research positions for undergraduate students, but Tony was nothing if not persistent and he worked hard to earn one of the coveted positions. A few years, countless sleepless nights, and several technological advances later, Tony was finishing his degree with plans to continue at MIT to pursue his Master’s. While completing his Bachelor’s degree at MIT, Tony’s trips home were few and far between. He went back for the occasional major holiday or birthday, but, for the most part, he stayed in Cambridge.

The second year of his Master’s program, everything changed. He’ll never forget the call from the local police station alerting him of an accident involving his parents. He may not have been particularly close with them, but they were his only family. Through his haze, he managed to get himself home the next day. That entire trip home was one he would gladly forget. The news of his parents passing away and the loneliness he felt was something he would never truly shake. He didn’t surround himself with many people, but the loss of his parents created a hollowness that he couldn’t have expected.

That trip back to Springdale was the last time he’d been home in the past 25 years. His friends from MIT and Stark Industries didn’t even know where he grew up. After MIT, Tony had pieced his own version of family together - he had everything he needed in those few close friends. 

The transition from MIT to New York was a quick one; Tony landed a prestigious internship with Oscorp and quickly worked his way up from there. Over the course of a few years, Tony had enough of his own ideas and resources to venture out on his own and start up a small tech company. A few of his closest friends and best colleagues from Oscorp joined him and slowly built Stark Industries into the powerhouse it was today. 

“Nat!” Tony called from his office, the door always slightly ajar.

“What is it Tony?”

“I need a flight home."

-

Several weeks later, Peter found himself pulling into May’s driveway, kicking up plenty of gravel and dirt in his rental car. Before he could bring the car to a full stop, May was bursting through the front door, eagerly approaching Peter. He pulled himself from the driver’s seat, taking a brief moment to stretch after the long drive from the airport. Seconds later he was engulfed by one of May’s all-encompassing hugs, somehow wrapping him up entirely despite the fact that he was at least a full head taller than her.

“You’re taller."

“Missed you too, May."

“Maybe you wouldn’t be so tall or miss me so much if you came home once in a lifetime. FaceTime isn’t the same, Pete."

Peter grimaced at that. He knew she was right - he didn’t come home enough despite how much he loved her. Being home was a strange mix of emotions. It was familiar and unsettling at the same time and Peter didn’t quite fit here anymore.

“I know May, I’m sorry. Work is just so busy and you know it’s hard for me to be here. I’ll try to-”

“Uh uh,” May interrupted. “No excuses. I know how hard you’ve worked for what you have out there. Just don’t forget about little old me." May cracked a grin and elbowed Peter in the ribs, just hard enough for him to know she really meant it.

“Love you, May,” Peter grinned. 

They each grabbed a bag from the car and made their way up the front steps of May’s house. As soon as they entered the hallway, Peter couldn’t help the feeling of home that washed over him. This town may not feel like home anymore, but the smell of pine and just slightly burnt bread would always send him back to his childhood.

“Shower up, Pete. You stink and we have a dinner to get to,” May called from where she was already bringing Peter’s bags to his room.

“What dinner, May? I thought things weren’t happening until this weekend?”

“Tonight is just family, and us obviously. Pepper insisted on us being there! I know you want to see Ned and MJ, but they’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

Peter trudged up the stairs to his room, finding May already hanging up the formal items he brought for the various events attached to the wedding. He didn’t quite understand why someone needed to rehearse a wedding, but, whatever.

“I can finish this up,” Peter insisted, taking the hangers from May. “When do we need to leave?”

“In about an hour. Do you need anything?” May asked as she headed for the door.

“I’m good, May, thanks,” Peter grinned at her. “Can you get the door?”

With that, the door closed with a thud and Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Hanging up the rest of his clothes, he realized the room was exactly as he’d left it when he sped off to NYU. He picked up his phone and snapped a picture of his surroundings, quickly sending it to Ned and MJ before getting himself ready for dinner.

An hour later, Peter was feeling much more human thanks to a hot shower and some fresh clothes. As he and May pulled up to Recipe, one of the few nicer restaurants in town, a swanky black Tesla caught Peter’s eye. In this town, the nicest car you usually saw was whatever new pickup truck could haul the heaviest trailer - or whatever. Peter didn’t care to know.

“May, who the hell is at this dinner?” Peter gestured out the window toward the car that clearly didn’t fit in along their historic downtown street.

“Oh, just family and maybe a couple close friends like us. That must belong to one of Happy’s friends.”

As they rounded the corner, they could hear laughter from the large patio behind the main house that was the restaurant. The patio was surrounded by large trees with strings of lights woven throughout the low-hanging branches. Peter was happy to see that this place was still here after all these years.

“May! Peter! You made it!” 

Pepper, May’s lifelong best friend, called out to them, beckoning them closer. Peter recognized nearly everyone around the large table - one of the things that comes along with a small town. The circular table was situated at the center of the patio, and he spotted the back of a man’s head that looked familiar, yet out of place here. He couldn’t quite figure it out, seemingly due to the sheer amount of time that had passed since he’d seen this particular group of people. 

Peter ducked under a couple branches and approached the table, quickly giving Pepper a hug and kiss on the cheek before finding the empty seat on the other side of May. He rounded the table and slid into his seat, interrupted by the waitress before he could even say hello to everyone else. As he turned back to the rest of the guests, he expected to be faced with Happy, Pepper’s fiance. 

What he didn’t expect was to be faced with Tony Stark - founder and CEO of Stark Industries, his very own employer. What the hell is Tony Stark doing at this table? In Springdale? For May’s best friend’s wedding?

As conversation swirled around them, Peter forgot how to speak momentarily, staring dumbly at the man across from him. Tony smirked back at him and threw him a wink while extending his hand across the table.

“You must be Peter. It’s so hard for me to believe that you’re someone’s nephew.”

Peter stared at Tony’s hand, fighting an internal battle to remember what he was supposed to do. Eventually, he reached across the table, nearly knocking over an entire glass bottle of water, and grasped Tony’s hand. He couldn’t help but appreciate the way Tony’s hand gripped his. The handshake was firm, his skin slightly calloused but soft, and Peter held on for an unacceptable length of time.

The waitress approached with his old fashioned, causing him to yank his hand back, as if he’d been shocked. He looked up to find Tony quickly averting his eyes back to the menu and Peter wished the ground would open up underneath him and swallow him whole to avoid the embarrassment that he knew was about to ensue.

The rest of dinner continued mostly uneventfully; however, Peter continued to make a fool out of himself any time Tony so much as glanced in his direction. Anytime Peter looked up, he was met with Tony’s intense gaze, but the man seemed to take pity on Peter and avoided any further embarrassment. Instead, Peter chatted with May about the city, but tried to avoid work; no one seemed to be acknowledging the elephant in the room, and Peter didn’t want to rock the boat. 

Tony Stark was not your average wedding guest, and everyone at the table seemed intent on ignoring his status. Peter knew he was missing something, but now wasn’t the time to ask why the CEO of New York’s largest tech firm and self-proclaimed “genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist” was in their presence. 

Peter was certain that Tony had no idea who he was. Sure, Peter had been working at Stark Industries for a while now, but he’d only met the company’s founder once and it was by complete accident. When Peter interviewed for his first entry-level position, Mr. Stark himself just happened to be on the HR floor for another matter entirely. Peter had nearly collided with him as he exited the elevator and frantically looked around for the office number he’d been given. He could have never expected Tony Stark to point him in the right direction before heading down the hall in the opposite direction. Peter had stared at the back of Tony’s head for a moment too long that day, but headed off toward his interview before he could see Tony throw a glance back in Peter’s direction.

Now, back in Springdale, Peter was baffled at Tony’s appearance in the small town.

Dinner came to a close and Peter nearly leapt away from the table to escape back to the safety of May’s home. Before he could make a move, Pepper grabbed him and May by the elbows. 

“You two better be coming with us for drinks!” 

Peter hesitated, exhausted after a day of traveling, but May was beaming. 

“Of course, Pepper. We wouldn’t miss it,” Peter agreed with a soft smile.

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter could see Tony leaving in the direction of his out-of-place sports car. Peter felt relief wash over him, realizing he'd get a break from embarrassing himself for the rest of the evening. 

Pepper and Happy decided that they wanted to go to Barley & Vine, the only good place for drinks in their small town. It was just a couple blocks away so the four of them decided to make the short walk together. Peter and May walked together, a few paces behind Pepper and Happy, wanting to give them a bit of space. Thinking back on dinner, Peter couldn’t help but laugh at himself. May didn’t miss it and threw a sneaky glance at Peter. 

“What, May? You’re not subtle, so just spit it out."

“So that’s the hot CEO you never shut up about, isn’t it?”

“May! What is he doing here? You do realize that’s Tony Stark right? Like, the Tony Stark! And he’s here?”

“That must be the Tony that Happy mentioned to me,” May shrugged. “I didn’t know he meant Tony Stark. I guess everyone in this town forgot that he grew up here, not in some lab in New York.”

“Tony Stark is from Springdale,” Peter deadpanned. “You have got to be joking. How is that even possible?”

“You’re the one that works for the man, ask him yourself! The brainiac had already left town by the time I got to high school so I never knew him. How could I have known that he and Happy grew up together?”

Peter just shook his head as they approached the small bar. After tonight, he’d spend the rest of the trip with MJ and Ned and hopefully avoid any further embarrassment in front of Tony. He knew they would give him a hard time for the whole thing, so he could only hope they didn’t find out about his antics at dinner that night.

Barley & Vine was one of the only places Peter enjoyed visiting when he was home. The cozy interior was inviting and the eclectic furniture set the place apart from the other dives in town. Pepper, May and Peter settled into some plush chairs and couches tucked into a corner near the back of the bar as Happy grabbed them a round of drinks. Peter was grateful for the quieter atmosphere after the long and unexpected day he’d had. When Happy returned, May and Pepper were already wrapped up in a conversation that seemed to be about the seating arrangements and predicting who from high school would hook up with an old flame. 

Happy extended a beer to Peter, which he took with a grateful smile. Peter had only met Happy once before this weekend, but he seemed nice enough. 

“So,” Happy started. “It seems like you and Tony had the same idea about getting out of this town."

“I guess so. Although, I had no idea he was from here. Everyone back in New York just knows he went to MIT when he was 16 - no one talks about what came before that. Seems pretty unreal that you guys grew up together." Peter eyed Happy nervously, unsure if this was a topic he’d be comfortable talking about.

“Yeah, Tony’s a pretty private guy and when he left Springdale he never really looked back. There’s too much here that he doesn’t like to revisit. Honestly, I couldn’t believe it when he agreed to come out for the wedding." 

Peter nodded in understanding. “I can understand that. I pretty much did the same thing when I left for NYU. I don’t get home enough, that’s for sure." Peter smiled in May’s direction knowing she missed him more than she ever let on.

At that, Peter and Happy fell into comfortable conversation about Peter’s experiences at NYU and now at Stark Industries. Happy had visited Tony in the city a few times, and they swapped stories about their favorite places, discovering that Tony had taken Happy to Peter’s favorite greasy burger joint.

Before long, all four of them were chatting excitedly about the coming weekend and Pepper and Happy’s honeymoon plans. Before Pepper could continue her ramblings about some private beach they were going to, the group was interrupted by Tony’s arrival. Peter was on his second beer of the night, giving him just enough of a buzz to be less chaotic than he was at dinner.

That was before Peter realized the only empty seat was on the couch next to him.

“Sorry I’m late guys. I had to run to the house for a minute and I forgot how slow the speed limits in this town are.” Tony already had a drink in hand as he settled into the spot next to Peter, leaving a comfortable distance between the two of them.

Peter snorted into his beer. “As if you follow speed limits."

The comment seemed to catch Tony off guard and he let out an unexpected laugh. Peter told himself that the blush he could feel on his cheeks was from the slight buzz, not from making Tony laugh. Before Peter had a chance to embarrass himself any further, Happy interrupted.

“May, did you ever meet Tony before he left us for MIT’s fancy labs?”

“Ha ha, very funny Hap,” Tony said with a genuine smile. They’d been friends long enough and been through so much that Happy could give Tony a hard time for just about anything. “Anyway,” he turned to May, “no, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m sure I would remember meeting you,” Tony said with a wink.

Peter rolled his eyes. He knew the reputation that Tony Stark carried in New York, hell the reputation he carried around the world. But he also knew May and that she wouldn’t be amused by Tony’s flirting.

“Well, you sure don’t seem to remember everyone you’ve met." May narrowed her eyes at Tony. “Have you met my nephew Peter yet Mr. Stark?” May asked with a playful glint in her eye.

Peter glared at May, willing her to shut up before she said anything else. 

Tony moved back in his seat next to Peter to get a better look at him. “As a matter of fact, we have met. Peter, you’re on the implementation team, yes?”

Peter’s jaw dropped in disbelief. At a company the size of Stark Industries, there was no way Tony knew who Peter was. Peter barely came into contact with any of the executive team and had never worked directly with Tony himself. 

“I may be the CEO of the company, but I keep close tabs on who we hire. Chalk it up to my perfectionism,” Tony finished with a sheepish grin.

“I, uh, yeah. Implementation team, that’s me,” Peter stammered. He took a big gulp of beer and stared at his feet, hoping the attention would turn away from him if he just pretended he wasn’t there.

The other four seemed to take the hint and started reminiscing about growing up in Springdale along with the trouble they all got in during school. Tony chatted with them for a while, surprisingly enjoying the conversation about a town he hadn’t considered home for decades. 

“Oh my god,” Pepper laughed, “was it junior prom that you spiked the punch, Hap? I’ll never forget the lecture you got from Mr. Houser that week!”

“Hey now, it’s not my fault that I lost my touch for sneaking around after Tony left town. He was always the brains behind the operation."

Noticing that the conversation was taking a turn toward a time after he’d left, Tony retreated to the bar for another drink. When he returned to the couch, he handed Peter another beer.

“I saw you were getting low. Figured you could use another."

“Thanks, Mr. Stark."

“God kid, please call me Tony."

Peter felt the dip in the couch as Tony sat back down, sitting slightly closer to him this time. May, Pepper, and Happy were wrapped up in a dynamic conversation about some town-wide scandal from a couple years prior. Neither Tony nor Peter knew what was going on.

“So, you’re from Springdale?” Tony asked.

“Uh, yeah. But wait, you’re from Springdale?” Peter asked incredulously.

Tony let out an uncomfortable laugh and took a long sip from his glass. “Against all odds, yeah kid, I am. I left when I was 16 and hardly ever came back - haven’t been back since my folks died."

“I get that. My parents died when I was young; that’s why I lived with Aunt May until I left for school. It’s tough coming back here when there isn’t much left here for me."

Neither man really knew what to say after that; they were both surprised by their similar history with the small town.

“So,” Peter started with a grin. “Did you really build DUM-E in your parents’ garage in high school?”

For the first time that evening, Peter saw Tony’s face stretch into a wide smile, his eyes even crinkling a bit.

“How the hell would you know that?”

“The R&D team at Stark Industries tells a lot of stories about your robots. Rumor has it that you built it before you were at MIT, so, now, I figure that means you had to have built it here."

Tony only smiled bigger and shook his head before launching into the story of how DUM-E came to be. Peter listened intently, amazed at the brilliance of the man in front of him. Of course he knew that Tony was a genius, you don’t build a company like Stark Industries without being the smartest person in every room, but it was different to witness it up close. It also seemed like Tony’s hard exterior had softened enough to let his guard down just a bit. Peter was enjoying seeing a more human side to the enigma that was Tony Stark.

“There was this one time in college when I was working on new technology for engine propulsion and I had DUM-E on fire safety and the stupid thing would douse me with the fire extinguisher every single time I ran a test. He wore the dunce cap for a while after he cleaned up the mess he made."

Peter leaned forward out of his seat to take a drink from his beer sitting on the table in front of him. When he leaned back, Tony had moved closer to the middle of the cushion and casually thrown his arm along the back of the couch. At this point, Peter was fully tipsy, and didn’t think twice about setting back in, feeling the warmth from Tony’s body where they were nearly pressed against each other. Peter and Tony were so close together that Peter could barely turn his head to make eye contact with the man next to him. He didn’t let himself think about what would happen if they both turned toward each other.

Peter sat quietly for a moment, gathering the courage to ask Tony the question that he hadn’t been able to shake since he arrived at the bar. The consistent buzz and warmth just under the surface of his skin helped push him to get the words out of his mouth.

“So, how did you know who I was when May asked?”

Tony looked away from Peter, seeing that Pepper, Happy, and May were all still engrossed in their own conversation.

“You’ve been at the company for what, five years now Pete?”

“Six years in the spring, yeah."

“Sounds about right. Just over five years ago I seem to remember going down to the HR floor to sign some paperwork. Natasha was out of the office, so they hadn’t gotten delivered to my office, but the head of the department needed them by the end of the day. So, I popped downstairs for a minute to get those done. On my way back to the elevators, I was nearly the victim of a head on collision, thanks to a very stressed kid. He was lanky and had the softest looking curls and these bright red cheeks." Tony smiled to himself, and if it was brighter in their corner, Peter would have sworn he saw Tony blushing.

“Anyway, I pointed him toward the entrance to the main HR suite, assuming that he was there for an interview based on the stress rolling off of him in waves. He practically sprinted away from me, and by the time I looked back, he had already rounded the corner. A couple weeks later, I saw those same curls rising a full head above all the other new employees passing by my lab on the tour included during the onboarding process. Bummer for me, I didn’t know his name and we never seemed to cross paths again."

Peter sat quietly, slowly processing the words that had come out of Tony’s mouth. The alcohol rushing through his veins seemed to slow his thought process drastically, leaving Tony sitting in awkward silence. After a moment, Peter turned to look at Tony with a cautious smile - he was surprised to see Tony already watching him intently.

“You remember me. From my interview. When we didn’t even meet."

“Yeah, kid, I remembered you,” Tony said carefully, unsure of what was running through Peter’s mind.

Throwing caution to the wind, Peter scooted even closer to Tony; any space that remained between them was now gone. Tony’s arm that had been resting along the back of the couch came down around Peter’s shoulder, settling the younger man into his side. Their legs were pressed firmly together and Peter attempted to make himself smaller, wanting to rest his head on Tony’s shoulder. From that position, Peter turned his head just slightly, his nose now resting in the crook of Tony’s neck. The grip around his shoulder tightened, and Tony turned his face into the curls on top of Peter’s head.

Tony glanced up, seeing his friends and Peter’s aunt eying them curiously. May locked eyes with Tony, her gaze piercing for a moment. Tony held strong, so as to not alert Peter to the silent conversation they were having. Just as Tony thought was going to be forced to peel Peter off of his side, May’s eyes softened and she just shook her head with a fond smile. Tony let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding as May, Pepper, and Happy let him and Peter remain in their little bubble.

“Peter, whatcha doing down there?” Tony asked, his voice smooth and low. Peter could feel the words vibrating in his ear from where he was pressed against Tony. 

Peter thought for a moment. What was he doing? His entire body stiffened as he realized the way he’d tucked himself into Tony’s side. Before he could pull away, Tony’s hand settled on his shoulder, halting the mindless wandering it had been doing along Peter’s arm. Tony squeezed his shoulder tightly and kept him in place. Tony leaned down even further, his lips brushing the shell of Peter’s ear. Peter could feel Tony’s warm breath on his ear, causing him to shiver despite the warmth of the man next to him.

“Nuh uh, I’m not complaining. I’d like to keep you right here, actually.”

Peter could feel butterflies erupting in his stomach, and the beginning tingle of arousal just at Tony’s words and the way he whispered in Peter’s ear. As much as he wanted to just curl into Tony even more or simply climb into his lap, Peter knew that if this was going to go any further, it couldn’t happen here. Peter pulled back from Tony’s neck and took in his surroundings. Tony’s arm returned to the couch’s backrest, but his intense gaze never wavered from Peter’s face. Peter could feel the blush rising in his cheeks, burning its way down past the collar of his shirt.

“It’s late, you’ve had a long day of traveling. How about you let me take you home. Those three are bound for a late night." Tony nodded toward the other three, and Peter wondered how long he’d been tucked into Tony’s side based on the quantity of empty pints and shot glasses in front of them. 

“Yeah, okay. Let me just give May a heads up."

“Sounds good. I’ll say goodnight to Happy and meet you up front."

Peter nodded and pushed himself out of his seat, finding his legs far less stable than he expected. After a moment of catching his balance he caught May’s attention and nodded toward the door. He wove his way among the various groups in the bar, smiling at a couple familiar faces that he couldn’t quite match with a name. He reached the entrance and leaned against the wall, feeling exhaustion settle deep within his bones. 

May approached a moment later with a massive shit-eating grin on her face. 

“What in the hell was happening on that couch, Peter?”

Peter scrubbed his face with his hand letting out a long breath. “Fuck, I have no idea May. I’ve never said a word to the man before today. I have no idea what’s going on."

May reached up and ruffled his curls like she had done when he was growing up. He couldn’t help but lean into the familiar touch, comforted by her presence.

“Well whatever it was, you two aren’t subtle."

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, Tony’s going to give me a ride home. I’m exhausted and I know you’re having a good time with Pepper and Happy."

May only smirked at that. “Yeah, sure, he’s just giving you a ride home."

“Oh my god, May, not happening. Call me if you need anything, yeah?”

“Same to you mister. Have fun."

Leaning up on her toes, May pressed a kiss to Peter’s cheek before heading back to Pepper and Happy. Tony was already heading toward the entrance and May quickly grabbed his elbow as their paths crossed.

“Be nice to him." Before Tony could open his mouth to reply, May had already moved past him, rejoining Pepper and Happy. 

Tony found Peter leaning against the wall at the entrance to the bar, eyes practically closed and looking like he was about to melt into a puddle on the floor. Tony cleared his throat softly, hoping to get the boy’s attention without scaring him too much. 

“You ready to get out of here, kid?”

“I’m not a kid,” Peter pouted as he headed out the front door and looked down the street for Tony’s car.

Tony just laughed, not bothering to argue with Peter. Tony placed a gentle hand on the small of Peter’s back, guiding him toward his car around the corner. Peter leaned into the touch, reveling in the warmth radiating from Tony’s hand. The two of them walked in comfortable silence, taking in the familiar sight of their hometown. When they approached Tony’s car, Peter paused and tilted his head back to take in the night sky.

“I forgot how bright the stars are here,” he said with wonder.

Tony looked up too. It had been so many years since he was anywhere besides big cities with all their bright lights and never ending noise. Tony closed his eyes, taking in the silence around them.

“It sure is different from the city."

When Tony opened his eyes, Peter had moved closer than he had been before. His eyes were wide, flickering between Tony’s eyes and his lips. Without realizing it, Tony’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips and he swore he saw Peter go cross-eyed following the movement. 

“Pete,” Tony whispered. “You gotta tell me what you’re thinking."

Instead of answering, Peter invaded Tony’s space entirely, fisting his hands in the fabric of Tony’s all too expensive dress shirt. He tilted his head until his nose bumped against Tony’s and he could feel the other man’s breath on his lips. Tony groaned at the feeling and wrapped his arms around Peter’s narrow waist, pulling him into his chest. Their lips were so close to touching that Tony swore he could feel them brush against his. Peter let out a shaky breath and smiled softly at Tony, nodding his head just slightly.

He couldn’t tell which of them moved first, but before he knew it Peter’s soft lips were pressed against his own. Tony swallowed Peter’s soft moan and allowed his tongue to explore the seam of Peter’s lips. One of Peter’s hands let go of its tight grip on Tony’s shirt and traveled up his chest, over his shoulder, and settled on the back of his neck, just able to wind his fingers through the strands of hair there. The move made Tony let out a loud moan as he pulled back from Peter, nipping his full bottom lip as we went.

They pressed their foreheads together, panting against each other's lips, not loosening their grip one bit. Tony could feel Peter’s face stretch into a grin and he pulled back just far enough to catch a glimpse. Tony leaned back in to press another kiss against Peter’s soft lips before taking a step back, allowing his hand to find Peter’s.

“God, you’re gorgeous. I should get you home before we horrify this entire town,” he said breathlessly.

“Yeah, you’re probably right."

Tony quickly opened the passenger door and allowed Peter to slip inside before closing the door. As he rounded the front of the car to the driver’s side, he swore he could feel Peter’s eyes following his every move.

“You’re staying with May, right?” Tony asked as he got settled into his seat.

Peter nodded. “Yeah, the house is just off the highway by the Dairy Queen."

Tony hummed in recognition and started the car. Peter, being about as subtle as a trainwreck, couldn't take his eyes off of Tony the duration of the short ride to May’s house. Watching Tony’s hands grip the wheel and grasp the gear shift should not have affected Peter the way they did, but he simply couldn't help it. After a few minutes, Tony glanced over and caught Peter staring at his right hand on the gear shift. Peter turned bright red, realizing he’d been caught, but Tony simply slid his hand over the center console and settled his palm on Peter’s thigh.

“You’re pretty cute when you get flustered, Pete." Tony squeezed Peter’s thigh and just laughed at Peter’s garbled reply.

Deciding it was safer not to speak, Peter stayed quiet until they neared May’s house. Even then, he only said enough to direct Tony down a couple quiet streets until the house came into view. Tony’s hand remained firmly on Peter’s thigh the entire time, squeezing in acknowledgment as Peter directed him. When Tony came to a stop in May’s driveway, both men hesitantly turned toward each other. 

Tony lifted his hand from Peter’s thigh to cup his face, running a thumb along Peter’s cheek. Peter’s hand reached out to wind his fingers in Tony’s hair, pulling the man closer as he did so. 

“I would invite you in, but I think I might fall asleep walking to the front door,” Peter said, disappointment evident in his voice.

“Well then I better make sure you get to the door in one piece." 

They reluctantly dropped their hands and stepped out of the car. Tony came around to Peter’s side and wrapped an arm low around Peter’s hips. Peter couldn’t help but lean into the warmth and firmness of Tony’s side as they made their way to the front door.

Tony used his grip on Peter’s waist to turn the boy to face him.

“Get some rest, kid."

Peter nodded in agreement, already slumped against Tony’s chest.

Tony chuckled and took a small step back, making sure Peter remained upright. Tony leaned in cautiously, but Peter answered the question before Tony could even ask it by pressing his lips firmly against Tony’s. They got lost in each other for a few moments, before Peter pulled back with a yawn.

“I’ll see you soon, Tony."

“Absolutely, Peter." Tony squeezed Peter’s hip before heading back to his car. 

Peter unlocked the front door and stepped inside the familiar threshold. Before closing the door, he called out to Tony. “If you thought I looked good in a suit all those years ago, just wait until you see me at the wedding." Before Tony could say anything, Peter closed the door.

Tony stood frozen in the driveway where he’d already opened the door to his car. He just shook his head and laughed, knowing he was in trouble with this kid.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

in sickness or in health

Notes: Post-Mr. Shimura & Kotarou, pre-relationship Nanahiko; beginnings of a sickfic (spoiler alert, it’s pneumonia). I just wanted to write about a kotatsu table.  Word count: 1,590

//

It’s not that Torino Sorahiko has a delicate constitution, but Nana is very close to begging Chiyo to write a doctor’s note so Sorahiko is obliged to stay at home when the weather turns cold.

First he starts to sneeze, and then his voice begins to rasp, and suddenly Gran Torino is showing up to work while coughing his lungs out. Nana usually has to wait him out; the instant he falters mid-air, Nana smoothly swoops in and excuses him for the rest of patrol. For the rest of the week, if possible.

Sorahiko can pretend all he wants. But one disruption to his airflow is all it takes to send him flailing.

The fateful, annual misstep thankfully occurs before they resume patrol. They are taking a noontime break on their rooftop, surveying the street below, having fallen into the comfortable silence that fills the gap between conversations. Sorahiko clears his throat to indicate they need to move on. He does not stop clearing his throat; he’s doubled over, locked in a coughing spasm that nearly topples him over the edge of the roof.

Nana catches him by the waist, steadying him.

“I’m fine,” he chokes out.

“If I kicked you off this roof, you’d go splat on the asphalt,” Nana tells him sincerely. Sorahiko can’t even meet her eyes, and his face is red with exertion and embarrassment and what has to be the beginning of a fever. His frame shudders with another great cough.

“We can’t just stop patrol.”

“Sick days exist for a reason, and so do vacations! Time to use ‘em!”

“Ugh,” Sorahiko says, but he complies with her insistence that they return to the agency. Nana drops him onto the cot in the backroom, and cheerfully points at the civilian clothes sitting at the end of the mattress. Patrol can wait until Toshinori is done with school; even though Toshinori cannot fly, he’s remarkably agile about scaling rooftops.

“So you go home,” Nana says, internally planning out the rest of her day, “and get some rest until we know for sure that you don’t infect our civilian employees.”

It’s already a given that One for All will keep her and Toshinori spry and healthy; Nana’s immune system hasn’t encountered a virus or infection that it couldn’t burn out since she swallowed Rokudo’s hairs. Bonus, One for All keeps her toasty warm during the winters—she gleefully cut out winter gear from her expenses years ago.

Sorahiko looks up at her. He’s already peeled off the domino mask, and even with the dim ceiling light, Nana discerns the glaze in his pale brown eyes.

“Can’t go home,” he confesses.

“Huh?”

“My complex, it’s getting… fumigated,” Sorahiko informs her. He sounds smug. Like he’s won the argument Nana hadn’t realized they were having. “I told you about the termite problem.”

“No,” Nana says slowly, “you said your place had a cockroach problem. Termites, when did—no. When did the fumigation start?”

“Three days ago.”

“Where have you been sleeping?” Nana demands in a higher-pitched voice. Sorahiko eyes her shiftily, and he scrunches up his civilian wear in his hands. Looking at it closely, Nana realizes that the clothes are pajamas: flannel pants and a thick cable-knit sweater the color of a pale sun. “If I look under this cot, am I going to find a suitcase, Sorahiko?”

“Not under the cot,” he hedges. So, probably squirreled away in his desk’s drawers.

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Are you at least keeping the heating on overnight?”

Sorahiko looks at a point over her shoulder and blatantly lies, “Would I suffer the cold?”

She glares at him because Sorahiko would be the type to deny himself the right to a warm office and minimize their heating bill. They don’t even keep a pillow and blanket for the cot! It’s literally a mattress on a tiny metal bedframe, bought for the office with the express purpose of napping, not actual sleep.

He shrinks where he sits. A sad sniffle punctuates the scene.

“Sick day for everyone,” Nana says promptly, and leaves Sorahiko alone in the backroom to tell their civilian staffers the good news. They are unhappy to find out that Gran Torino has been slowly but steadily contaminating the office with his seasonal germs. Thankfully, their concern for his housing situation outweighs their outrage over Sorahiko continuing to work while sick.

These are their most senior staffers; they know the pattern of a sick Sorahiko too.

She waves goodbye and doubles back to her and Sorahiko’s enclosed office to collect his cache of spare clothes (toothbrush and travel-sized hygiene products included). Once all that is in a tote bag, Nana returns to find Sorahiko still sitting unchanged on the cot, staring blankly at his pajamas. Nana squashes the burgeoning panic. The tote bag is dropped at one end of the cot, and she touches his shoulder.

Sorahiko startles, snaps to attention. Inelegantly, he says, “Wha’s happ’nin’?”

“You’re coming home with me,” she tells him. His eyebrows draw together.

“Says who?”

“Says your best friend.” Nana takes the pajamas and stashes them away into the tote; she picks up his domino mask and smooths it over his face, careful around the eyes, firm about the stray air pockets that tend to gather over his cheekbones. “C’mon, Sorahiko. I’ve got a kotatsu with your name on it.”

“You still own one?”

“Not everyone decided to prioritize a Western bed,” she says dryly, and helps Sorahiko stand upright. He breaks into a series of coughs again. She holds him through it and hopes that this year is just particularly bad for Sorahiko. When Nana had sent him home before, had he curled under his blankets and hacked his lungs out, every breath coming out as a rasp? Surely not.

“You still have one of those,” he remembers. Of course that’s what he remembers.

They stagger outside, Nana propping Sorahiko up with his arm around her shoulders. She locks the front doors and squints at the direction back to her apartment.

“Don’t wanna walk,” he mumbles into Nana’s hair.

“We’ll fly,” she assures him. And they do. Sorahiko’s pride matters less than his comfort, when his stubborn streak peters out. Nana scoops Sorahiko up in a bridal carry, hangs the tote bag on her elbow, taps off the ground and soars to the rooftops. The flight back to her apartment is swift, even with Sorahiko shuddering with stifled coughs.

Entering through the lobby, and then ascending the stairs with judicious use of Float, they finally make it home. Already, the heated building prickles at Nana’s skin. It wakes Sorahiko up too, if the faint stirring of his head is any indication.

“Home?”

“Home,” Nana agrees, keying them inside. She sets her partner onto his feet and sits him on a stool in her genkan. By the power of muscle memory, Sorahiko automatically starts tugging off his boots and various accessories. Nana’s quicker; she helps with the gloves, then ushers him to the bathroom. “Don’t fall asleep yet.”

“Hngh,” he manages. When the door shuts behind him and her shower starts, Nana reheats her kotatsu table, fiddling with the electric heater settings until there is a veritable warmth seeping through the carpeted padding.

Sorahiko needs rest, nutrition, and medication. Possibly Chiyo. Nana weighs the potential humiliation of telling Chiyo she was oblivious to Sorahiko sleeping in the office, chilled to the bone with not even an emergency foil blanket available—versus the danger of not telling Recovery Girl at all.

She stalls for time by making tea and checking her supplies. Painkillers, present. Canned soup? Worryingly absent, along with cough syrup. Nana may have to use her instant ramen powder packets for a broth.

“Nana,” she hears Sorahiko croak. “Just buy take-out.”

“And pass on my cooking?” Nana reflexively says before she jerks her head from her pantry. Sorahiko looks bedraggled. Dressed cozily, yes, but his towel-ruffled hair sticks up in jagged tufts, and the haggard shadows lining his face signals exhaustion more than stress.

“No need for two incapacitated pro-heroes.”

Nana rolls her eyes and gestures to the living room. “Kotatsu, go.”

He shuffles at first, then makes a delighted sound as his naked feet hit warmed territory. Sorahiko lowers himself to his knees, and then visibly decides, fuck it, and slides his entire body, neck down, under the heavy patterned futon.

“Oh,” Sorahiko sighs. His eyes flutter shut; Nana quietly picks her way over and sits by his head.

“I think I’m going to call Chiyo-chan,” she informs him.

“Unnecessary.”

“I’m calling Toshinori too.”

One eye cracks open. “Very unnecessary.”

“He’ll want to know why the agency is out for the day,” Nana explains, giving into the impulse to stroke her fingers through his fluffy silver hair. She cards the tufts into a smoother angle—less bedhead, more rakish. Sorahiko’s contented rumble stutters with a cough. “And he has easier access to Chiyo-chan.”

“I’m not sick.”

“Uh-huh.” His pout is ridiculous and endearing, and Nana’s heart hurts. She tries to smile anyway. Sorahiko ignores her valiant attempt to lighten the mood; the downturned corners of his mouth deepen into a real frown. How is he always tuned into her actual feelings? Ridiculous.

“... I’m a little sick,” he concedes grouchily. “Don’t let the kid be noisy if he invites himself over.”

“Okay,” Nana says, soft. She lets herself cradle his jaw for one long moment, feels the shifted weight of Sorahiko leaning into the touch, before withdrawing. She has a phone-call to make.

[sailingintothenight]

“WANNABE.” T.H. Imagine.

And what if after years of chasing each other like a cat and mouse, you and Tom started to wonder if you wanna be something else in each other's life?

A/N: I am posting a one shot after weeks of writer's block. I hope you like it. It's 9:30 pm in Peru and it's still April 28, so it's still my birthday! Give it a try. Pleaseeeeee! And yes, I borrowed a scene from Mean Girls (Because I loveeee that movie)

“Hello God, it's me again, (y/n). What's up? I know we haven't talked much lately, but, hey, listen, I have a favor to ask you- I have behaved well, I haven’t gotten drunk at any crazy party of any Hollywood star and I haven't accepted drugs, ever: I'm afraid my grandmother will appear in my room as a ghost and pull my blankets in the middle of the night, plus, I haven't make out with any Stone-cold Hollywood hottie, and trust me, I've had more than one chance. Anyway, about the favor–”

"Yes, but (y/n)'s grandfather invited us to his birthday party..."

Tom's voice startles you and cuts off your internal dialogue, turning you back to the reality.

It’s 6 am. The sun shines in the clear sky, and you are on a flight back to England in a luxury privet jet that is about to arrive at the airport, while Haz, Harry, Tom and you are sitting in comfortable velvety seats, with the view of morning sky on your left side. 

The exciting memory of your last recording still seemed to run through your veins, too exciting to let you sleep. Because that was the end, the goodbye after incredible months. All your efforts from the past months were hidden behind that last performance that looked like a fantasy, except for the kiss, ugh, you had to erase it from your mind. But now, you're going back home, ready to take a break away from the set-up bridge and blue and green backgrounds, away from the makeup artists who gave your face the final touches of the magic of Hollywood, far from the suit of a superhero who had just won her last battle and who got the cute boy, Peter Parker.

But not far away from Tom Holland.

Because evil takes a human form in Tom Holland, your lifelong neighbor.

How do you even begin to explain Tom Ho– Stop, people say that if you pronounce his name 3 times a curse falls on you.

But fans say Tom Holland is flawless, you heard his curly hair is insured for 10,000 dollars, his favorite movie is “Spider-man Homecoming”, duh, and very soon, “far from home”. One time he met Robert Downey Jr. in his own village and he started hyperventilating, and once he threw a fan's phone on the floor and she said it was awesome.

"Please don't tell me you're going to his birthday party." You complain, because you can't help it.

"Would that bother you that much, darling?" Tom smiles, tilting his head back so that his tender smile fits perfectly with his tender face. “Then of course I will go. Also, your grandfather still has the hope his granddaughter would get a man like me.”

"Ew. Why would my dear grandfather want me to be with someone who enjoys keeping a frog in his mouth?" You ask, earning yourself an Oscar for best actress with the innocence you exude and the seriousness you manage to put on your face, even when Tom's eyes narrow from the attack you just launched, while, enjoying the show, his friend and his younger brother laughs, shaking heads with a familiar expression on their faces because of the familiar discussion between you and him that happens, every two or three days. "Seriously, Tom, give the poor Henry a break."

"Henry?" Tom asks with real confusion, his accent thick, while the other male voices ask it in a collective whisper too.

"I named your frog Henry, hope it doesn't bother you." And you laugh, victorious to feel how Tom exhales the air through his nose.

“Seriously, (y/n), when will you confess that you are in love with me? You don't have to be so shy, darling.” Tom laughs too, using his finger to tap your nose, because he knows perfectly well that you don't like that, just as you don't like being called darling anymore. “Ray is a wise man, you should listen to your grandfather."

"Yes, if you like skinny ones."

"I'm not skinny. I have the perfect body.” Tom defends himself.

"For now, but in a couple of years you will named your big belly as your dad does after drinking with mine." You laugh like a little girl because you love Dom, because he's warm and funny, because he loves his wife and children, and because of how funny he is when he and your dad have had too much alcohol, like the time they started a cartwheel contest in the middle of the street. "Who's there? It's Dom Junior.”

"Shut up! My dad is still sexy!” A heavy silence falls over the small place as everyone looks at Tom with furrowed brows and true confusion, but that's when he realizes the choice of words he used to refer to his dad. "That's not what I meant!"

You raise your hands in a sign of peace, your gaze avoiding his as you stop yourself from laughing and mocking him.

"That's so wrong, Tom." Harry says, with a certain bittersweet taste on the tip of his tongue. "Now because of you I won't be able to see dad's belly the same way."

Harry and Haz chuckle at Dom's expense.

But when the jet landed smoothly on the headlight-lit runway in the early hours of the morning, the heavy hours from the past months feels now as if they weighed the same as a feather, pain and exhausting sleepless nights disappeared in the blink of an eye, and now, there is no oceans that could make you feel far away, because in the end, you always came back home.

"Besides..." You say to finish that conversation, your backpack on your shoulder before making the victory path towards the stairs to get off the plane. "I would like a boyfriend who can grow a mustache, not like the failed attempt on your face. Thank you very much."

"Hey!" Tom frowns as you pass him by, and his voice rises even higher than it already is. "My doctor says it's just a hormone problem."

"Damn, bro..." Harry laughs as he puts an arm around Tom's shoulder, giving him a brotherly hug before walking out to the car waiting outside. “(Y/n) will be hard to catch, you know? But try it, maybe you will make it in this century."

Harry laughs, and then, walks out of the plane.

"What does that mean?" Tom asks Harrison, who is still waiting by his side.

"I think he meant that you are in love with (y/n), but you haven't noticed it yet."

Harrison chuckles, but after patting Tom on the back, he rushes to place a hand on his best friend's shoulder to stop him.

“Hey, mate… you, uh…” Tom's eyes soften, almost to the point where his brown eyes resembled the gaze of a little 5-year-old boy, sad, and lost. “You haven't told anyone why we came back, right?”

“Of course not.” Harrison says, and his gaze smiles just like his lips. “Don’t worry about anything, okay? We are home, you are home. You can take the time you need to rest.”

Tom nods, unsure, but tries to be strong as they both get off the plane. 

The gray autumn clouds hang with invisible strings in the sky as Tom Holland, actor, handsome, wealthy, and the loneliest person in the world, releases a deep breath that is lost among the sounds of the world, because his world is no longer sparkling or velvety thanks to the cameras or a red carpet, and while his new movie is a box office hit that never in his best dreams he would have imagined, something wasn't right for him.

That’s why he is back home.

The car ride is silent as some sleep, except you and Tom, because your eyes seem to recognize the streets you grew up in, because your hearts recognize your home. But for Tom, he recalls tilting his body to the left and a camera captured his best actor pose a week ago, but since then, his body has felt null, as if floating in the air and no longer responding to his orders. He was crystal clear, but a few people seemed to see clearly through him. Tom tries to convince himself that the tickling in his hands is his body's response to tiredness and not his anxiety, because he suffers it too, but he feels that something is eating his soul.

"Are you okay, Tom?"

Among a sea of ​​people, Tom Holland has always pretended to be an interesting person, but now, he takes a deep breath and looks at you, nervous, lost in the middle of that huge world, but you, looking back at him gives him peace, because he doesn’t feel alone anymore. 

What did you think? That someone is interested in knowing if you are really okay? Of course they care, right?

“Of course, darling.” Tom smiles, as if in a snap of fingers, everything is fine.

But there, he catches a movement of yours.

You tilt your head to the side, like his beloved Tessa when she is curious about something, but he doesn't say it out loud because you would take it the wrong way, but the movement in slow motion worthy of a Hollywood scene and the serenity of your gaze makes Tom hold his breath, that breath that previously didn't fit his chest with so many problems that he carried inside.

But suddenly he can breathe again, finally.

“Okay.”

The minutes pass until the car stops on a street that you two recognize perfectly. When everyone is out, the car leaves, but because your favorite boys are about to leave, too, you hug everyone as the promise to celebrate Harrison's birthday next week hangs in the air. You love them so much, because they are beautiful people who helped you to save yourself from the storms of doubts and fears, each of them in their own charming way, and for that, you were grateful.

"My friend Danielle is coming so I would like you to meet her, Haz." You chuckle adorably before leaving, noting that Harrison's smile is as real as his desire to meet her.

"I'm looking forward to it, darling."

"Wait, why he can call you darling?" Tom says, and for a second, you see a sparkle in the brightness of his eyes, but as the door of his house opens and his beloved Tessa runs to receive him, the confusion disperses like the morning haze.

"There she is the only darling you will ever get, Thomas."

And the moment you turn around, because the door of your house opens too, you lose sight of Tom's honest smile and the question that he hides behind his sweet eyes. Was he in love with you all this time without realizing it? And what if he wanna be your boyfriend? 

Oh, right. The favor that you were going to ask God for? To get you a boyfriend, a cute one, a hot one... maybe like Tom. Weird, isn't it?

Tag list: @galaxies-of-the-heart​

[paperskinned-writing]

First attempt at smut. I've read some here and there and used to be an amateur writer before. So enjoy it with a grain of salt if it's not quite good.

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Anyways, it's a bit of maid and master play with Kali and Ilia (RWBY) in some scenario where the Belladonnas have rebuilt their house and Ilia is a maid because she feels bad about the last one. Nothing extreme about this one but who knows. I might make a sequel if people like it enough.

Again, enjoy.

.

.

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The bottle crashed down from the highest shelf in the room. Silence, followed by soft sniffles eventually made their way across the room to Kali's ears.

The little maid stood in the puddle of what was a full bottle of bourbon. The white frills and apron of her uniform, stained with splatters, were clenched in dainty fists. Her previously white stockings were now the same golden hue as the aftermath on the hardwood floor.

Kali rose from her plush leather chair she had been reading in while observing her personal maid. And immediately strode across the room to Ilia and put her arms around her. While not much taller than the girl, she did embrace tight enough that her motherly chest pushed itself up into a magenta face.

"I-I'm so sorry, ma'am," Ilia stammered, lowering her head further into cleavage, clearly ashamed of the mess she'd made and the concern her mistress had for her. The maid's magenta was giving way to deeper shades of blush, probably due to her particular Faunus trait. Kali sighed.

She wasn't angry or anything. However, it was a repetitive routine. Ilia, though currently buried in her chest, had insisted on being a maid after the previous estate went up in flames. The Belladonnas kindly told her it wasn't necessary but the former White Fang thug was trying to make amends. Kali was of course sympathetic to someone trying, and convinced her reluctant but soft beast of a husband to allow it.

A bit of buyer's remorse she supposed was settling in. While she had fun dressing Ilia in various maid outfits and watching the girl enthusiastically do her bidding, Mrs. Belladonna was starting to regret it. So many items were broken in the first week, she had to cover for Ilia to keep her husband from throwing her out. Two weeks later, the frequency had let up. However, each later item seemed to be more expensive than the last. And this was even after she had the regular staff essentially baby proof the mansion.

She stroked the maid's long ponytail, tracing it all the way out to it's curly end, repeating slowly. It seemed to calm Ilia down, or at least her colors were back into the normal complexion range.

"I'm sorry." The little one straightened up. "I'll clean this up right away."

Kali held her embrace firm for one last stroke of silky hair and let the maid exit. Though even that was a small struggle when Ilia had ended up catching her outfit in the door when she closed it behind her. Kali sighed again. Again, not angry. Just wondering what her help was actually helping.

.

Ilia returned with cleaning equipment in hand. Struggling through the door to the room, she began gathering glass and tossing it away. Kali resumed her half-hearted attempt to read to the ambient noise of the room. After some time, sloshing noises caught her attention and she glanced back up.

The tiny maid had hiked her almost knee-length skirt up and under her stained apron. Then she proceeded to get down on the floor to hand scrub the mess away, using a rag and a plastic bucket to do so.

Her attire wasn't skimpy. Frilly and loose standard really. The only real form fitting aspect to it was her sash around her waist that cinched the outfit about her waist. But this was the first time the lady of the house had taken a notice of the girl's figure since she had forced Ilia to wear it.

While the girl was currently faced the other way towards the door, her rear was pointed at Kali. The unstained tops of white stockings grabbed into shapely tan thighs. Straps from a garter belt led away from there up to the skirt that just barely hid the bottom of Ilia's cheeks. Annoyingly, the frilly hem obscured a peek of what might be underneath. Kali had only given her stockings to wear and never told her lingerie was a part of the outfit. Now there was a curiosity to unravel, unlike the mystery in her novel she was hardly reading anyway.

The tiny maid was oblivious to the stares from across the room. She continued scrubbing, her ass swaying slightly as she went. It truly grabbed the feline's attention, the curiosity gnawing at her.

What would a young lady wear under her uniform? Why bother? Maybe it was just personal taste? Maybe she liked the outfit too much? Her mind puzzled over the intentions behind the lingerie.

.

Eventually Ilia finished her cleaning and Kali still burned with a longing for answers. The maid stood up and started to adjust her skirt back to its normal. The bourbon stains on her apron and hems had dried for the most part. She tugged the edges down and shimmied until the folds of fabric hit their full length.

The mistress had been absentmindedly tapping her bottom lip with the tip of her finger. Her gaze hadn't changed in spite of Ilia now being fully dressed. Her fixation on the servant's thighs and hips eventually travelled up to the obscured bust before suddenly locking her amber eyes on a pair of grey ones. Staring bashfully right back into hers. Kali blushed at her blatant ogling.

"Are you done, Ilia?" she asked, trying to shake herself from her curiosity streak.

"Yes, ma'am." The reply was rather meek. The grey eyes were still widened a bit. "Is there something you wanted to ask me, Ms. Belladonna?"

Kali bit her lip. She'd been tapping absentmindedly on her chin before in her pondering.

The woman had always been a sucker for a submissive toy. She herself was a switch and Ghira, bless him, was her man. He was in charge in the bedroom: as rough as he wanted, as long as he needed. She loved it just as much as he, but she did occasionally feel that familiar ache. The need to dominate something like he did to her. That carnal need to gain pleasure at the expense of another. Ghira knew this and he cautiously welcomed her to exorcise it, lest it get out of control.

As long as it's not another man, he told her, he'd look the other way.

And here before her was a good little girl. Bright eyed. Tan. Beautiful. Eager to please. So, maybe a bit of a tease? Enough to satisfy her curiosity and maybe vent a bit of her pent up frustration with the source of it all? Maybe add in a touch of blackmail for fun? Kali cleared her throat and sat back in her plush chair. The leather softly creaking around her head as it cradled her feline ears atop.

"I'm curious to know what a maid wears under her attire."

After some silence, Ilia shifted in her shoes but never broke the gaze between them. Her fingers flexed tentatively.

"Did I do something wrong, ma'am?"

Kali's ears twitched slightly at the innocence in Ilia's whisper. It was genuine, yet, it felt like there was a yearning intertwined.

"No! Not at all. I just couldn't help but notice something when you were down on all fours. I saw something that piqued my interest."

The mistress licked her lips, her gaze grew hungry. It still locked with the other's.

"Care to show me what a maid wears under her uniform?"

Finally, the grey eyes broke contact. They glanced downwards at their owner's feet. Then the hands trembled to the edges of the frilly skirt and pulled it up.

Slowly up the stained stockings, slower up the white straps of the garter belt over the tan flesh. And a slight pause before the grey eyes turned upwards to resume their gaze.

Truthfully, the blue striped panties were cute but not what made Kali feel a deep tingling in her loins. It was actually the fact that Ilia submitted so easily. So exactly. It exhilarated her domme side, the beastial side of her that rarely got out.

Sure, she had a few flings with Sienna, but it was mostly a contest between the two, both being switches meant one never really submitted to the other to a satisfying degree. But that was that. A literal master and servant relationship? Only in other people's fantasies did this happen. And here, in front of her, Kali had a fantasy coming true.

"Come closer," she required. She was too invested in the heat of the moment to let Ilia get away now. She had boundaries to push. Limits to test.

Ilia quietly obeyed, keeping her skirt lifted as the maid slowly walked towards her mistress. Her mary janes clicking on the hardwood as she proceeded.

Kali slowly uncrossed her legs to sit up higher in her chair to allow her servant to come closer. Ilia stepped up toe to toe with her, not in a defiant manner. She was still wide eyed and blushing but every bit as invested as the lady of the house. The little lesbian waited.

"Even closer," came the next sultry command.

Kali's lightly tanned thighs rubbed against Ilia's knees as the latter brushed past to place her toes directly under her mistress's chair. She could go no further.

Lifting her well-manicured hands from the armrests, Kali's fingers traced down her own waist and trailed across her thighs until they resided on the maid's knees. The girl shuddered at the touch. It wasn't out of fear. It was her eagerness. A subtle invitation for more.

"You have to tell me. With your words."

The grey eyes winced slightly, glanced down then returned again like before.

"You can touch me, Ms. Belladonna," came a whisper.

Kali tisked. "Try again."

"I...want. I want you to touch me."

"Please?"

"Please."

"Mistress?"

"Yes. Please, Mistress."

"Say it properly then," purred Kali.

"Mistress, please. I... I want you t-to touch me," the small lesbian requested. "I need it."

At an achingly slow pace, the resting palms tugged and transcended their way up the shapely thighs. Fingers slid to the backside, the palms massaged the outsides, and the thumbs rubbed across the front. Like walking up a long flight of stairs, the mistress worked her hands further and further upwards. Back to side, side to front and up a smidge further to repeat.

Reaching the tops of the stockings, Kali laced her fingers under the fabric and traced around the hem. The direct skin to skin contact sent waves of small shivers up Ilia. A soft moaning cry escaped the maids lips. Kali's eyes never left her face, but Ilia was shutting hers, opening them again, staring back, glancing down. Her tired arms quaked as they clung to the skirt in a death grip. It was probably out of the fear her mistress would stop if she disobeyed in showing her attire that the girl didn't dare let it fall.

The woman felt the heat emanating from between those light brown thighs. She was careful not to go between them, allowing the tension to build in her little toy. She resumed her back to front pattern from before, taking care to trace underneath the front and rear straps as she traversed up past the halfway mark.

A slight tiptoe motion came from the maid when a finger traced the bottom-most edge of her ass. It earned a wicked grin from her master. Leaning a bit more forward, Kali cupped her ass, sliding her hands under the striped fabric clinging to the flesh. She kneaded and grabbed with increased force as she sank her grip into tender meat. Kali pulled the cheeks apart and pushed them back together as she massaged them roughly with her paws. Occasionally dragging her nails across their entirety earned hip thrusts.

Squeals of pleasure and heavy panting filled the room. The tension from the invasive hands pulled Ilia's panties taught across her clit and they dug deep into her soaked crotch. The kneading gave a sawing motion to it all and the poor servant girl couldn't hold any longer.

With a sorrowful whimper the skirt slipped from her hands and covered up the whole exhibit. And, as if it were a cue, Kali immediately stopped everything and sat back in her chair. A stern look about her as her hands laced together under her chin.

"Mistress! I-" Ilia struggled, "I'm sorry! But I-I'mmm… I was soooooo close!"

"I know I didn't say to hold this-" Kali said as she put a knee into the girls groin, "the whole time. But how am I to do anything if I don't get to at least see it with my own eyes?" Her amber orbs unsympathetically returning the gaze from the pleading grey eyes upon her.

"H-how can I make it right with you? Mistress? Please tell me!"

Kali tapped her toe for a short while, pretending or maybe not to make up her mind on what to do. For that while, Ilia did her best to stand at the ready but the quakey stance gave away that under her skirt she was rubbing her thighs together to keep herself stimulated. Kali couldn't see it but there was certainly another puddle on her hardwood floors at this point.

"Lift your skirt again."

Obediently the order was followed. And upon doing so, two well-manicured hands produced cat-like claws. They turned over, palm up, and slipped under the front of the garter belt. Then they looped under the soaked fabric of Ilia's panties.

In a swift motion that slightly startled the maid, Kali cut the underwear away. The stripes clung for a moment due to the soaking they concealed, but with a gentle push on the inside of either thigh, the sticky sheet fell away, leaving a servant bare to her master's eyes. The garter belt's straps framed the prize. Goosebumps crossed the tanned skin, both from excitement and the sudden chill.

The mistress retracted her claws and traced the faint pressure marks where the elastic had been. Then she ran a single finger across from hip bone to hip bone. It resulted in extremely tight clenching between the thighs as Ilia grew somehow more excited with anticipation. Still, the tan girl held her posture otherwise.

She was perfectly smooth save for a small patch above. When petting the soft fuzz with her thumb, the maid doubled over while almost headbutting her mistress in the process. Her tongue briefly licked Kali's neck as she rested her head on one shoulder. Still holding the skirt high around her sides, Ilia was pushed back into standing as close as she could. Turning her other hand palm up again, Kali sank her middle finger into the love tunnel.

A shrill but satisfying moan deafened the feline. Ilia had to be a near virgin for how tight she gripped that one digit. It was only the first phalanx and her mistress could barely keep pushing. She used her thumb on the clit to stimulate her even more before her palm filled with sticky nectar.

The maid collapsed to the ground. Her legs gave out from the sheer weight of her climax. She saw stars in a pair of amber eyes. Those eyes seemed to move away for a moment before Ilia felt like she was falling forward.

Kali wrapped a leg around the back of her servant's neck, careful to grab the silky ponytail out of the way as she reclined again. Resting her black hair against the leather, she was ready. Using her calf to draw the starry eyed lesbian into her now dripping love patch. As the feline pulled her own lacey panties aside, Ilia seemed to come to terms with the situation.

A slimy tongue rolled lazily out and began to service. Kali wasn't as hairless as her younger counterpart but she was trimmed. She wrenched the ponytail in her hand around as a rudder. Her juices smeared all across the girl's face. The maid was enthralled by it more and more, even as she was coming down from her own climax. Ilia reached under the grappling thigh to get a hold of some womanly hip with one hand. The other found itself furiously working her up to another star-studded high.

A deep purr in Kali's chest resonated out loud. As Ilia was gaining more conscious, she only got more enthusiastic. Her sticky tongue kissed every crease and fold, her lips sucked up any juice that the mistress had to offer. Pure. Fucking. Bliss.

Ilia had what seemed like a normal tongue (other than the tacky, gooey quality it possessed) until she buried her nose deep into Kali's muff and her tongue reached deeper than anyone had ever done.

The mistress nearly rolled her eyes back as a result while she groaned out loud. It wasn't that hard, throbbing meat slab her husband would slam in her but it reached almost as far. The slimy member nearly kissed her womb. But that wasn't enough. She had to have more.

Raising her ass slightly, she bucked her hips against her maid's open mouth. Kali began to facefuck her servant but it wasn't unwelcomed. The tiny brunette took it as a command to work harder and did. She slurped harder, wriggling her tongue as much as it would allow. Occasionally she pulled it out completely and snaked it down between the feline's glorious cheeks, sending tangible shivers up her mistress's back when she reinserted into the love tunnel.

Climax for Kali nearly tore off Ilia's ponytail. She held her maid's head with her thighs and the sheer lifting power in her forearms as her body went rigid. As she did, the brunette worked herself up to the finale, using the asphyxiation induced by her mistress to send herself over again.

.

Eventually, Kali let Ilia have her hair back. Her death grip lessened and the suffocated servant slowly parted from her nether region with a small kiss before sitting back on her ankles. The maid kissed the inside of one thigh as she parted. Then shakily, climbed to her feet using the armrests for support.

The little lesbian didn't bother wiping her sloppy face. Instead, she wore a fairly confident smile with a liberal amount of blush in her cheeks. The smile was returned by her mistress, more out of a sense of satisfaction than one of confidence.

"I suppose you should change out of that outfit. There's more than one kind of stain on it now," purred a tired sounding comment. Kali shifted to a more upright position. "Don't worry about the floor for now. Just tell anyone who might need me that I've taken a nap in here."

"Yes, mistress."

Ilia walked across the room and exited. This time she was careful enough to not close the door on her skirt.

Kali let out a small sigh and leaned forward again. Holding her face in both hands and stamping her feet on the ground, Kali wore a stupid grin on her face now. Ilia had gone to clean herself up and now she was in here relishing in the afterglow. How much fun could she have with this new maid? They'd gone so far but she still hadn't seen it all. She hadn't truly explored what her body was like. Hadn't truly controlled her.

Grabbing the still sopping wet cloth on the ground, Kali settled again into her seat. She could smell the juices as she rolled the former panties in her hand. It'd be rude of her to not return these later. Right?

Perhaps it wasn't buyer's remorse, the woman supposed. She was merely making an investment before and now it was paying dividends. How exciting.

[amethystpath-writes]

Part 5 (version 2) Hero x Caretaker X Villain

You guys didn't ask, but here's a little something solely from Villain's perspective ;)

@silverwhisperer1 @whump-me-all-night-long @whatwhumpcomments

******

Excerpt from v1

""It was a hoodie, if you were curious. Navy blue, white writing. He took it and left, wouldn't look at me, didn't bother asking why I was there, didn't ask about you.""

And onto v2:

***

The apartment complex was dirty on the outside, brown and yellow stains marking almost every inch of the- well, Villain assumed it was supposed to be- white building. Other than that, he swore he saw mold growing in creases, between walls and decorative arcs. There were vines climbing onto the building from a too-close tree. If there were ever a terrible storm, Villain observed, it would fall into that person's balcony and crush whatever was within reach.

Shaking his head, he sighed. And Hero lived here. He debated changing 'lived' to 'lives'. Villain knew that keeping her captive in his home was a terrible idea. It was...rather villainous of him to do and he wasn't a villain. He did everything in his power to make sure he wasn't a villain. The destruction he wrought was never real; only an illusion created by Brother and some expensive materials. The kid was a genius. Villain sometimes considered that his little brother might have abilities after all, even if only in the mind.

Villain was getting off topic.

He knew keeping Hero was horrible, but eventually he believed it would be okay. As long as she was at her apartment, the longer life would eat at her, the more she would think about Caretaker deserting her, the more she would think about money- or her lack thereof- the more she would think about this shitty apartment she lived in. And by the looks of it, the landlord didn't care. Why in the world was Hero living here?

The elevator was out of order, so Villain was forced to take two flights of stairs. At least it wasn't any more than two, though he wondered about the occupants that lived on higher levels. Carrying groceries would be a greater chore than anything.

Hero's apartment was unlocked. She must have forgotten to use her key when she left to fight Villain. Either way, at least Villain didn't have to break in.

Everything, for the most part, was in order. Hero seemed fond of decorating as there were wreathes hung up on almost every doorway, ceramic and polished pumpkins placed all about, on tables, counters, and shelves. It was surprisingly nice in the small apartment, given what the outside looked like. Villain couldn't help but wonder how Hero could afford such pleasant looking things. He didn't think she stole anything- that thought never crossed his mind, but seeing the rest of the building, he didn't know how anyone afforded anything. With a building as poor looking as this one, Villain could easily assume the owner made renters take care of their apartment themselves.

Gritting his teeth, Villain stepped in further. What would Hero appreciate having? It was the goal of the visit. Since he couldn't let Hero return to her apartment, he could at least bring her things that made her feel more at home in his. What made it difficult was that Villain refused to step foot in her bedroom. That was crossing a private line, and he wouldn't do that. Instead, he searched the living room and kitchen. Villain thought about the bathroom, but that was...he didn't want to walk into a female's bathroom. It sounded...less than pleasant.

By the time Villain finished searching the kitchen and living room, only finding two little ghost decorations to take back, he heard two voices out in the hall.

The first voice said, "The door's cracked open."

"Yeah?" The other clearly thought nothing of it.

"Hero would never leave the door open."

"Maybe she did this time. Just go in and get your stuff, dude."

"No," the first said, "no way. I'm not going in. You know what it looks like. Just go in and get it for me. Please. If she is in there, she-"

"Yeah, whatever. I'll go get it for you."

Villain didn't know whether to roll his eyes or smile. He was almost certain that the first voice belonged to Caretaker, and it sounded as if they were scared. They must have known it was Villain inside. It'd have been smarter to come inside and collect whatever it was they came for instead of sending in a friend. Either way, Caretaker would step in; Villain would be sure of it.

"Oh! Hero-ooo. You're not-you're not Hero." Villain turned with one corner of his mouth lifted, his chin tilted to the side as he peered at Caretaker's friend. "I was- well Caretaker, they- I'm gonna go. If that's, you know, if that's alright with you, because this is more their-"

"-Tell your friend to come in here."

"Yessir."

The friend walked out with their head ducked and Villain listened as they told Caretaker that, "You better get in there."

Soon after, Caretaker stepped in, sucking in a breath as they took Villain in. His arms were crossed and he looked...amused. "Look, if this is about Hero, I-I don't know where she is. I just came to- I left my hoodie and it's the only one I've got."

Villain hummed, uncrossed his arms, then laid both elbows on his knees as he sat down on a wooden chair in the kitchen. Caretaker remained in the living room. Fortunately, there was no wall dividing the two rooms. "Interesting," Villain said, "I thought you would have been looking for Hero."

They went rigid. Villain swore he already knew what Caretaker was thinking, in order to please him; Should I say I was hoping she was here? Villain hated to take advantage of what the news made him out to be, but it was coming in handy right now. "I assumed she was with you." Caretaker glanced at him before looking at their feet.

"Oh, she is. Don't you care?"

Still, they watched their toes. "Listen, man, I just came for my hoodie. Navy blue, white writing, seen it anywhere?"

Villain bit the inside of his cheek, drawing a spot of blood. "Tucked between the couch cushions."

Caretaker nodded, dug his sweatshirt out, and walked out without another word. Villain never wanted to hit something, someone so badly as this. He came back for a damned hoodie, not Hero, not to check on her, or to console her, but for his hoodie.

******

If there are any other parts you would like alternate versions of, I might be able to scrap something up ;)

Hero's POV here