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reinersbb · 4 years ago

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𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 [𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] Chapter Five- Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy PT.1

Chapter Five Part One of Forget

Orange, black, and purple plastic solo cups littered the dewy grass along with other miscellaneous speckles of trash- some cups still retaining remnants of alcohol. Only ten o'clock at night and there was already a headache of a cleanup worth of mess outside on the front lawn. There was no telling how much worse it would be on the inside where the heart and soul of the party was. But it's not like after-party cleanup would be your problem to deal with.

Carved jack-o-lanterns that were once originally placed along the long walkway leading up to the front door of the frat house were smashed and overturned. Stringy pumpkin guts and seeds clung to the porous pavement of the walkway, some of the pumpkin innards in the grass. A collection of large oak trees in the front lawn were decorated with ominous purple lights. The flickering light cascaded across the grass, bouncing off the glass of littered alcohol bottles.

As you transitioned onto the property from the bustling street of roaming party-goers from different frat homes all around, the music and shouts from within the home ahead of you seemed almost loud enough to shatter its' windows. The base of your heels clicked against the pavement out of excitement as you trailed up the property.

A gust of wind hit your overly exposed flesh, and a chill of excitement tickled your vertebrae. While you were pulling the silk robe you wore over your body to cover yourself, short wolf-whistles from a group of drunk party-goers who'd barely managed to stand up straight caught your attention. The intoxicated faces that wore skewed face paint waved to you, catcalling you, wanting nothing else but your attention, but, you ignored them and continued onto the covered porch. Anywhere away from the blabbering drunk so-and-so's who were floundering in the lawn is a place where you wanted to be.

The front door that belonged to the home was left completely open, and you couldn't tell if the people passing through were coming or going. But you pushed your way through and sure enough, you were finally inside and one with the chaos that was the Halloween party. You already knew that this party was more hectic than the last one you attended.

Spirits were high, and the energy emitting from the room you now stood in practically zapped you.

One look alone at the hoard of people around you had you wishing that you would've at least asked Ymir to cancel her late-night movie date with Historia so they could follow along with you tonight instead. You weren't sure if you could handle a party like this all by yourself.

Managing to shuffle away from the front door, you stood aside and reached for your phone that you'd been holding in your small purse. Taking a quick look around at all the flashy details of costumes, your eyes dug down at your phone screen.

Today 22:46 Hey Jean, I'm here...

Though it wasn't out of spite or pettiness, a handful of hours is how long you left Jean's messages on seen. You decided earlier in the day to take it upon yourself and show up and surprise him with your arrival instead of messaging beforehand so that way he wouldn't expect a thing.

After your message was sent, all you had to do was find Jean. Or he had to find you. Seemed simple enough, but with one look at the crowd, you knew it wouldn't be such an easy task to tackle. Even if Jean was nearby, how would you be able to pick him out of the crowd?

There were many, and if not all, people wearing costumes. Even if by chance you were to know tons of people, they'd be hardly recognizable to you. So trying to catch a face would be worthless.

A singular buzz from your phone had you checking your lock-screen within an instant. Sure enough, it was a response from Jean.

Jean: Where are you?

Just as you were about to start at your reply, the chat bubble from the receiving end disrupted you. But as you watched and waited, the chat bubbles disappeared without any further sign of reappearing.

Then somehow you heard Jean's voice shouting your name over the crowd.

But where?

You couldn't help but look like a maniac as you scanned your surroundings. You were trying to recall which direction you heard his tenor voice last when suddenly two large hands skewed your vision. Instantaneously your hands went flying upward, dropping your phone mid-process as you felt at his wrists as he stood close behind you.

You yelped a response, "Jean!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Jean's hands lowered from your face, allowing you to see clearly once again. "Let me get that," you watched as his hand reached for your phone that was on the ground.

Jean fell into your line of sight as you turned on your heel to face him. Both of you went wide-eyed as both of you took each other in, examining each other's costume. Your phone that was now dangling at his fingertips was almost dropped for a second time out of Jean's surprise.

"Are you... a cowboy?" You managed to make the first remark.

Covering Jeans' head was a worn chocolate brown cowboy hat, along with a matching colored mid-thigh coat. His hair was tucked under the hat, only the ends of his hair billowing out. Though like always, the black studded earrings were still imprinted in both his earlobes. A red paisley bandana covered up the neck of his button-up shirt. Dark faded blue jeans covered his long legs and a large belt buckle hung at his hips. The cuffs of his jeans swamped worn down brown pointed boots. His cheeks seemed to be more defined while somehow his facial hair seemed to be darkened and unruly.

His ruggedness was hot.

Jean cleared his throat before attempting to speak with his best cowboy impressions, "you betcha', cowgirl." Jean paused for a beat, mainly to gather his words, "now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm assuming you're dressed as a playboy bunny?"

"Bingo. How do you like my costume? Historia and Ymir helped me come up with the idea."

Promptly, you corrected your bunny ears that'd been pushed out of place from his surprise attack. Jean silently raked your appearance in from head to toe, his tongue caught on his lip as if he were about to say something but he hesitated, almost like he was nervous. Even if he was nervous, he most certainly wouldn't let you know that.

Eventually, he gulped, and through his parted lips he spoke, "I- I like it, your costume puts mine to shame. Also, I think the colors red and black suit you well."

If it weren't for the off-put lighting of different color hues, you would've been able to notice the radiating peach glow on his cheeks.

"Thanks, your cowboy costume isn't so bad either," you teased, tipping the front of his hat down over his brow line. "That's payback for making me drop my phone."

Jean chuckled, lifting the hat from his head, allowing the locks of his hair to fall across his forehead aimlessly. His long fingers ran through his hair, pushing his amber strands back before setting the cowboy hat back on his head.

After the quick readjustment, Jean's eyes were on you, "by the way, thanks for showing up tonight."

"Oh, it's no big deal," you admitted when in reality you'd spent hours getting ready, regardless of how nonchalant you'd made your previous statement out to be.

In the back of your mind, you wanted to look good tonight since you knew Jean would be at the party. You didn't care about the technicalities or the thoughts and ideas people would make of you from your attire alone. But you wouldn't admit it.

You were uncertain for how long you had been staring at Jean for, that and you were also uncertain of close the two of you were standing next to each other until you were randomly pushed from behind by a passerby. Jean of course caught ahold of you as you went stumbling forward. Jean helped stabilize your footing by holding onto your arms.

There was a scowl on his face as he stared off into the crowd, searching for the person who carelessly bumped into you. The disgruntled look on his face was hardly noticeable if you weren't paying enough attention, but sure enough, there was a scowl on his face.

"Are you okay?" Jean's eyes were back on you, "they didn't even stop to apologize to you."

"It's alright, Jean, it's not like I got hurt or anything, and they're probably too drunk to function."

"You know you're probably right," even though it seemed like he didn't want to give up that easily, Jean carefully took ahold of your wrist, "will you follow me?"

You attempted to speak over the blaring background noise, "okay, where are we going?"

Jean turned his head back for only a second so he could respond as he began to walk, "you'll see."

The next room the two of you entered wasn't as packed as the entrance of the house, but still as lively. A table with solo cups at either side was folded out and there were two teams tossing ping pong balls back and forth, taking a drink from the orange solo cups when directed. A hoard of people surrounded the table, but you managed to get a vision of the action.

"Beer pong?" You talked over the commotion, taking a glance at Jean before back at the table.

"Have you ever played before?"

"Back in high school, I've played a handful of times but I completely sucked at the game. I haven't won, not even a single time."

"Let's see if your luck has changed any and see if we can break that losing streak of yours," Jean finally released your wrist to go talk to a man who'd been standing near the game table.

The unknown man was dressed in black pants and a white and black striped shirt, like one of those burglars you see in children's cartoons. Under a black beanie, he had blond hair and was built, his well-toned muscles were flexed as his arms wrapped around his chest while talking with Jean. Next to the blond was a much taller man, who was even taller than Jean by at least two to three inches, who wore a similar costume as the blond.

"Hey! Are you a friend of Jean?" An alto-toned voice called out from your right as you felt a knuckle tap on your shoulder.

A tall man with a freckle-kissed face and chocolate brown eyes beamed at you, his expression was laced with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. His hair was parted and styled like a man from the eighties, and he wore a red puffer jacket over a denim jacket. Instantly you thought he was dressed as Marty McFly from Back To The Future.

"I guess you could say that, yes," you said, unsure if a straight yes or no would be correct.

"Okay, cool! I'm Marco, Jean's best friend. I haven't seen you around before, where did you guys meet?"

"I met him through my mutuals at a party last Saturday-" you paused for a beat, remembering the first actual encounter you had with Jean. "Actually, the first time I ever met him is when I quite literally ran into him. It was horrible, I spilled my latte and everything."

You'd have Jean pay you back for that latte one day, even if you were the one that barged into him. And that was a promise.

Just then, those chocolate brown eyes of his flashed for a split second. His thick eyebrows rose and fell and the corners of his lips struggled to keep from lifting into a knowing smirk.

"Before I forget to ask, what is your name?"

Whenever you told Marco your name, his eyes darted over towards Jean's direction then back at you. There was a weird expression on his face that you couldn't put your finger on, it almost seemed like he knew something that you didn't.

Your eyebrow lifted, "what's the matter, Marco?"

"Marco!" Jean finally reappeared from the beer pong table, almost standing in between you and Marco.

Jean glanced at you and back to Marco.

"Wait, what were you two talking about?" Jean shifted towards you slightly, a shadow falling across his brow from the cowboy hat he was wearing.

His defensive side caused suspicion to arise inside of you. Had he been hiding something from you?

"We-"

You'd attempted to speak, but Marco beat you to it, "nothing, Jean, I was just introducing myself to your friend."

Jean stared at Marco for a few seconds, like he was carefully reading the man with chocolate eyes.

Suddenly, there was a loud cheer, almost like an explosion from the table. Then there was a harsh whistle that zipped through the other commotion which caught Jean's attention entirely.

"Jean! Come on, you're up against me and Bert," the same man that Jean was talking to previously informed.

"Come on," Jean motioned for you to follow him, "let's get you that win."

Across from you stood the same two men who Jean had been talking to previously. Apparently, the blond's name was Reiner and the other went by Bert, or Berty, however, the blond cooed. While Marco stood off to the side of both you and Jean, loaning you his friendly support and cheering both of you on.

As the game commenced, Jean stood close beside you the whole time, giving you a few tips and tricks here and there to help sink the ball. You noted how nice it felt when he held onto your wrist one time to imitate a fake swish. Or how nice it felt when you actually sunk a ball into a cup and Jean would congratulate you by pulling your body against him into a side hug.

You felt at the top of the world, soaring all high and mighty. There was a slight buzz kicking in already from the cups of beer you had to drink, and Jean even decided to help you out with most of them by downing the liquid. He'd pluck the cup up from the table, and before dipping his head back, he'd glance at you with a knowing look with his intense eyes over the brim of the cup.

Your fingers accidentally laced with his momentarily as you high-fived one another after Jean scored your team another point. Soon after your mini celebration was cut short, Jean rolled his eyes whenever Reiner's ball bounced into your team's orange cup. Reluctantly his slender fingers grasped the brittle material and downed the beer.

With the back of his wrist, he wiped the corners of his mouth, "we just need to score the last cup," Jean placed a hand on your shoulder, his excited eyes staring into yours.

"What if I mess up?" You kept your eyes only on Jean.

"You won't."

With that, you sucked a breath in through your nose and exhaled steadily. The music was continuously bumping in the background while you rinsed off your ball in the discard cup. Your chest was thumping, and there was a ringing sensation beginning to sound.

The game was currently tied up. One to one. Reiner and Bert stood adjacent to you and Jean. Both men waved their hands in front of the cup as you aimed for the center.

Once the ball was tossed and in mid-air after its' first bounce, their hands ripped away, and almost as if it were playing in slow motion, the ball landed in the cup. The contents sloshing around slightly on impact as your ball sank into the depths of the plastic. Reiner sighed and plucked the ball out and drank the beer from the remaining cup you happened to score.

An eruption of emotions spilled out of you and everyone else around you. To your surprise, you felt Jean ease his arms around you, swiftly lifting you and spinning you in a victory hug. Naturally, you melted into Jean's touch as he held you up from the ground.

"We did it, Jean! Thank you so much for believing in me."

"It's no problem, I knew that you could do it, but I do enjoy the praise."

If it weren't for Eren walking up and interrupting both of you, the moment of celebration with Jean would've lasted much longer.

You would've preferred that outcome.

"Jean, Marco," A slap on Jeans' shoulder came from Eren, "I've been looking for you two and everyone else, Porco wants us downstairs," Eren was practically already shit-faced.

When Eren's shiny emerald eyes caught ahold of yours, he stopped to smile and greet you. He couldn't believe that he'd overlooked you for that short moment.

"You- a playboy bunny? Damn, if I would've known you'd come dressed as that I would've come dressed as Hugh Hefner," Eren held a bottle pointed at you as he took your appearance in, "don't be a stranger, you should join us downstairs."

"Now, you don't have to if you don't want to."

"It's okay, Jean," you reassured the tall figure, "it sounds like it will be fun."

Your heels clapped against the hard flooring after stepping away from Jean who finally let you back onto the ground. Instead of walking with Jean, you stayed behind him as he walked with Marco, and Eren was already way ahead of the two men. You enjoyed watching Jean and Marco converse from behind, and also you noticed how lively they seemed to be when talking to each other.

Much to your Amusement, you immediately noticed out of the crowd of people in the basement that both Connie and Sasha were wearing matching crayon costumes. Connie was the color green and Sasha was yellow.

"Over here, you guys!" Connie practically fell over his own feet as he grabbed your small group's attention.

Though, another face, another painstakingly familiar face caught your attention.

'Why the hell is he here?'

Floch never showed up to parties, so why now of all times?

You stilled in your tracks, unsure of what to do. Do you approach the group and be awkward because of your ex-boyfriend? Or do you stop, turn around, and head back out instantly without another word spoken?

You noticed when Jean turned his head over his shoulder to look back at you, almost like he somehow noticed or felt a shift in the atmosphere around your group. His lips turned from a crooked smirk from talking to Marco into a slight frown as he gazed at you. Jean paused from marching alongside Marco to glide back and meet up with you.

Naturally, Marco turned on his heel to question what was up and why both of you stopped following, and all Jean did was encourage him to carry on and that the two of you would only take a second.

You appreciated Jean's concerns, but you didn't know what to say to him, what could you possibly say to him without making him uncomfortable?

"What's wrong?" Jean asked as he finally approached you.

"He," your eyes found comfort by staring at the ground you were standing on, "he's here."

"What do you mean?" Jean looked around momentarily before looking back at you, "who's here?"

There wasn't much time to waste, not if you wanted to make your conflicting emotions noticeable to the others who were waiting for all four of you to join them. You definitely didn't want Floch to notice how bothered you were by his presence.

What was he doing here anyway? He never was the one to attend parties, he even said so himself.

"My ex-boyfriend," you spoke dryly, almost unable to be heard if Jean weren't listening well enough.

Without another word spoken, you lifted your head, Jean took the cue to follow your eyes where Floch was seated. You watched as the redhead enjoyed a beverage from his orange cup, laughing at something with a man with short brown hair, whom you didn't recognize.

"Who? That guy is your ex?" Jean asked, paying close attention to you while gesturing towards Floch.

"Yeah, the redhead, I didn't think he'd be here tonight," you exhaled an uneasy breath of air, "he was never the one for parties. God, I don't want him to ruin my night, I've been having so much fun and-"

"So then don't let him ruin your night," Jean took ahold of your hand, interlacing your fingers with his, "I have an idea."

Your eyes flashed with excitement at the hand-to-hand contact with Jean, "what's your idea?"

Jean's stern eyes softened for a split second, almost like he were telling you to trust him. Without any debate on the matter, you swallowed your nerves and squeezed Jean's fingers with your own, embracing the comforting heat of his palm on yours. You could only notice how relaxed your hand was in his, the feeling was familiar and soothing, something you could get used to if given the chance.

"Hey guys," Jean spoke to the large friend group, taking a seat beside Marco on the couch.

The group of people was much larger this time around. You recognized some faces from previous encounters at the last party, while some faces you hadn't seen before, and some were completely unrecognizable due to their costumes. More people were standing idly by away from your group talking to one another, some were dancing, and there were others preoccupied at the wet bar. You noticed that there was a small group huddled around a pool table, but decided to_ ignore_ the pool table.

Without anywhere else to sit due to limited space around, you hesitated briefly until Jean pulled you onto his lap. With a squeal, you adjusted yourself, crossing your legs quaintly as you delicately sat on his lap. This whole time from holding hands with Jean till now you've avoided looking towards the direction Floch was sitting in, but you noticed that his lips had gone still, and movement of his had ceased.

Maybe he was jealous by seeing you and Jean together, hand in hand. But that was a good thing, right?

Jean's large palm draped on your hip delicately, no, hesitantly, almost like he was unsure to touch you. His palm hovered across the material of your silk robe, feeling the intricate indentations of the more risqué undergarments underneath. He didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable by the way he was holding onto you, all he could do was hope you wouldn't mind. But, considering your past encounter with Jean, he thought something so simple as having his hand placed on your hip didn't match up to the extremity of the last personal encounter you two shared.

Connie and Sasha struck up a conversation with you as soon as you were comfortably seated. Jean and Marco casually joined in on the conversation and all five of you sat talking amongst yourselves out of the group of well over a dozen.

There were the occasional cut-ins from Eren or the blond whose name was Armin that you'd seen from yesterday, but you didn't mind. There was also a man who was named Niccolo that appeared from upstairs who joined in, he brought two beers with him and wiggled his way to sit in between Sasha and Connie, mostly leaning into Sasha though as he gave her one of the beverages he'd been holding. The more the merrier you thought.

As long as it wasn't Floch joining in, you didn't mind.

The conversation was cut to a halt when a man with dirty blond hair that was slicked back cleared his throat to speak. The blond wore a black leather jacket, with a white t-shirt underneath and faded blue jeans covering his legs. Sitting next to him was another male who wore a similar matching costume, sans jacket and his hair was only a little messier than the blonds, with his hair falling out of place but still kept back. They looked to be dressed like a character out of the book _The Outsiders, _like greasers.

"How about we all play a little game?"

"What kind of game, Pock?" A woman with thick black hair asked, her arm lazily dragged across the man's shoulder as she tipped her head out of curiosity.

"Pieck, I told you to stop calling me that," the blond seemed to be easily frustrated by the single comment.

Which only resulted in a soft laugh from Pieck, "alrighty then, Porco."

The irritate state seemed to blow over quickly, and Porco now was back on track with his original train of thought, "anyways, I was thinking of..." Porco glanced around the vast group for a moment, "a little game of truth or dare?"

"Truth or dare? Don't you think that's a little middle schoolish, baby brother?" The man sitting beside him with brown hair asked playfully, visibly striking a nerve in Porco.

"Shut up," Porco hissed at his brother, "it's my party, so I get the say in what we do, so if _you _don't like it, Marcel, then you can leave. It's as easy as that," Porco pulled a bottle of bud light to his lips before tipping his head back to take a drink. "And that goes for everyone else too, if you don't like it, then leave."

Though, with the invitation to leave if warranted, no one got up from their seat. And you could tell that Jean hadn't even considered the option of leaving since he made no effort to move, and neither did you. But, naturally, you turned your head over your shoulder just to ask him and make sure. What you didn't anticipate was the proximity that both of your faces would be to each other once you turned to look back at him.

You stilled on Jean's lap, the breath you sucked in practically caught in your throat at his closeness, "Jean," you almost asked in a hushed tone, "do you want to play?"

"Of course," his smile disappeared briefly, but not because he was unhappy, "I mean unless you don't then we can go somewhere-"

"No," you smiled, aimlessly turning back to face the crowd as you'd once been, "I'd like to play, all I need is a drink to start the pace," you admitted, eyes falling onto Floch after turning back forward.

————————

"You have to do the dare, Bert," the man from the opposing team you played against earlier, who you now knew as Reiner, spoke out, encouraging his tall friend and the girl he was with.

Currently, Bertholdt was to take a body shot off of the girl's stomach. The poor boy was flustered out of his mind, his tan cheeks were a deep shade of pink as he leaned towards the girl. Bert dipped down to her naval, sucking out the alcohol from her belly button. Whistles and cheers sounded out from the crowd when Bert pulled his face back, downing the shot of booze.

"Atta champ," Reiner slapped Bertholdt on his back, causing Bert to cough up a sputter on the alcohol that lingered in his throat.

Bertholdt shrugged his shoulder over his mouth, eliminating any residual of alcohol on his lips.

Currently, you were a few turns in of a modified version of truth or dare. But instead of truths, there were only dares, or you had to take a drink for bailing. The game and its' rules reminded you of the spin-the-bottle game you played last Saturday.

"Drink or dare," you scanned across the crowd, thinking of a victim to pick, "Sasha."

"Dare, obviously," she elbowed Connie in the rib playfully, waiting to hear the poison you picked for her.

A mischievous grin developed on your eager lips, you had just the dare in mind for Sasha.

"I dare you to go lock yourself in a room with Niccolo for ten minutes," you pointed to a room just a few feet away from your group.

Niccolo sputtered out of embarrassment, he was surprised that you'd dare Sasha to do something like that. But Sasha, she wasn't the one to complain over a dare. So, she hopped up on her feet and waited for Niccolo to follow.

Though you only crafted this dare mostly as a joke, you knew well that this dare would also help the two jump-start their relationship in the right direction. You came to that conclusion solely by observing how the two had been interacting with each other so far.

Niccolo seemed to be interested in Sasha but, of course, was hesitant, while Sasha on the other hand was oblivious to Niccolo's advances.

Before Sasha entered the nearby room, she shot you a glance, a glance that could read 'you'll pay for this later.'

After receiving quick congratulatory praise from Eren and Connie due to daring Sasha and Niccolo to do such a thing, both men signaled to Jean that it was now his turn to dare someone.

"Who's it going to be, Jean?" pulling your chin back over your shoulder, you stopped to look at the man you were sitting on.

His fingers that were slack against you suddenly gripped your body slightly. Jean's index finger vaguely tapped against you where he held onto, before combing all fingertips against your flesh in a soothing manner.

Without a second glance around the room, Jean spoke with his head slightly tilted, his eyes on and only on you, "I dare you to kiss me."

#attack on titan #Jean #jean smut #Jean Kirschstein #aot smut #jean kirschtein smut

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love-fireflysong · 4 years ago

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yIt's done. It took me waaaay to long to write this piece out but between June and my computer apparently deciding to kick me in the teeth this month, the fact I made it to 5 full squares completed anyways I will gladly take as a victory! And, just fyi, this WILL be the last piece for this month. I know that there is still another four days left of June, but I am sick and tired of dealing with my keyboard so this is the last fic you're gonna see from me until I get a new laptop hopefully fairly soon. (Unless I decide that I'm desperate enough to try and write things out on my tablet of course...)

Anyways, the First Date trope was specifically requested by @jesus-hotsauce-christmas-cake when I let her know that the one she did guess (road trip) was going to be a second chapter of a twoshot. Which you still might get because I'm very likely going to be sharing the short little summary blurbs I had written down for each trope so people can very easily bully me into writing them anyways if people still wanted to read them. And even though it would be like months and months late, still post them under this bingo board because I can and I had a cool idea for what I was doing with the colours and layout before life decided to say 'NO!' in a very firm voice. (Unless of course the three lovely ladies that came up with this idea in the first place say no obviously)

Rambling over though now I promise. Chocolate Covered Confessions can be read over and AO3 of course, with the full fic also under the readmore as well.

Chocolate Covered Confessions

Trope: First Date Fandom: Until Dawn Characters: Ashley Brown, Chris Hartley Words: 8214 Rating: General (though reader beware there is some almost scandalous hand holding and a couple of scandalously public kisses. You have been warned...) Authors Notes: Oh look, more chrashley fluff. Who da thunk it? Pride month? What pride month? This is just me apparently figuring out how many different ways I can get Chris and Ash to confess their feelings. Because you only read like three of them, I still have another two waiting in the wings. Plus at least three others if you count climbing chrash lol.

Something was...weird. It wasn't something that Ashley could put her finger on just yet, but something was definitely off that was for sure. The problem of course was that she didn't even know where to start looking in the first place, because for the most part her day had been extraordinarily ordinary.

She, Chris, and Josh had planned to go and see a movie Saturday morning a few days back and then hang out the rest of the day. But seeing as they were, you know, best friends that certainly wasn't the issue. Not even close. They always made plans to do stuff like that together. And yeah, okay, so maybe Josh had 'coincidentally' texted them just before the movie started to let them know that something unavoidable had come up and he wasn't going to be able to meet up with them. And when her and Chris had brought up just waiting until a later showing when he was free, he had immediately been quick to affirm that nope, he was going to be busy the whole rest of the day actually. So the two of them could continue with their original plans and they could make it up to him another time.

While certainly suspicious, that wasn't what was wrong though. Josh had been flaking out on their plans more and more, especially when it was plans that took up an entire day. Ashley Brown wasn't stupid. No siree Bob she was not! She knew exactly what Josh was trying to do by leaving her to spend the day with Chris. Alone . And she appreciated it (she really did!), but if Chris was going to make a move then he would have done it ages and ages ago, because she sure as hell wasn't going to do it! Ashley Brown wasn't stupid, but she also wasn't exactly what you would call brave either.

Not that Chris had seemed to notice what Josh was pulling though, he had just sighed and rolled his eyes with a grumbled "fucking typical", and then the two of them had entered the theater to watch the movie. And as per their usual shtick when Josh wasn't there with them, Chris paid for the tickets while she paid for the food and drinks. Or, at least, that was how it normally went. Instead, when she had decided to take a run to the bathroom while he held their spot in the long concession line, she had come back to Chris waiting for her with the pop and popcorn already in hand. After brushing off her flustered apologies, he had explained that shortly after she had left, another cashier had popped on till so the line had gone down in half the time either had expected. And it seemed like a dick move to just wait there until she came back so he had just decided to get the food instead.

She still felt a little guilty about it honestly, even after swearing that she would get both the tickets and food next time.

And, to be completely fair to Josh, he hadn't exactly been missing out on a lot by skipping out on the movie. It wasn't a horror flick (he would never even think of skipping out on that after all) so it wasn't one that he would feel the need to make the two of them watch again with him. Which was more than fine honestly, because if she was to describe the movie in a single word, well, that word would definitely have been 'dreadful'. If she was given a few more words, then she would have easily elaborated and stated that it was 'a boring, plot-hole driven mess, with only extremely over-the-top action scenes and explosions every five minutes to carry any semblance of the extremely loosely written plot'. In other words, she had lost interest in the movie barely half an hour in, and considering that Chris had started scrolling through his phone bored, she wasn't alone in this boat either.

Still, Ashley had resolved herself to sit through this over-budgeted explosion fest if only because movie tickets were horribly expensive. Not to mention the fact that Chris had shelled out money for both the movie and the food. But then he had turned to her, asked if she was as bored to tears as he was, and once he got that confirmation, asked if she wanted to just ditch the movie entirely. And she did—she really, really did—but didn't want Chris to waste the money he had spent more. And then yet another explosion...exploded on screen, and she realized that she was wasting precious hours of her life that could be used to do something more fun and less mind-numbingly boring.

Like watching paint dry. That at least had a semi-cohesive plot.

And so the two of them had walked out, continuing to share the extra buttered popcorn between them (the movie may have been awful, but the popcorn certainly wasn't) as they left the movie theater behind and wandered into the nearby mall. That wasn't the strange thing either. The mall and subsequent window shopping had absolutely been part of their day plans after, even if those had been unexpectedly pushed forward a couple of hours.

Admittedly the art show that the mall was running in one of the empty storefronts was unexpected, but it had been simply a nice surprise and a great way to kill time. So after paying the $2 entrance fee, the two of them had continued to share the popcorn as they looked at some of the paintings and sculptures that had been on display, giggling childishly at most of them. And okay, so one of the curators had been glaring at them( or rather, at their greasy, butter-covered fingers) the whole time, but that had just been a little rude and insulting. Not strange. And that had stopped almost the moment they had run out of popcorn, Ashley nudging him in the stomach with her elbow as she licked her fingers clean, and the two of them laughing under their breaths at the curator who had looked exceptionally much more at ease once Chris had crumpled the empty bag into a ball.

The rest of their day in the mall had just been spent following the rest of their day's plan, wandering from shop to shop and browsing at all the things that caught their eyes, and then taking a break after a few hours to have a late lunch in the food court. The two of them checked out another couple of stores, these ones to try and get some ideas for Josh's birthday in another month, before moving onto the small arcade on the top floor. As part of their deal and agreement since it had just been Josh and Chris (Ashey not joining the duo until five years later), Chris bought the tokens needed while she scouted out the various games for an empty console and claimed it until he could join her in another couple of minutes.

They spent the next hour in there, trying to beat each other or work together depending on the game in question. They almost never played a game twice before moving onto the next one, in hopes to both try as many games as possible before their self imposed hour ended and to see if they could beat their previous high scores or make it onto the leaderboard in only a single try. But as the hour came to a close, they both made their way over to their final game: one of the racing simulators scattered around the arcade. And as had been done for ten years now, played to determine which of them would be paying for the tokens next time they came.

And once the race ended, with Ashley winning by photo finish for the third time in a row (and celebrating her winning streak by maturely sticking out her tongue and doing an awkward little shimmy dance in the seat while Chris jokingly sulked and pouted), they had finally left the mall altogether and got into Chris's truck. There, he had surprised Ashley with the novel she had been eyeing in the bookstore (or at least, eyeing closer than all the rest she had picked up) and that he had somehow been able to buy without her noticing. And that certainly hadn't been weird, because it had been so exceptionally sweet of him, sweet enough that Ashley had so badly wished that she could thank him properly. But as mentioned before, Ashley Brown was a coward pure and simple, so she had just clutched the book to her chest and beamed at Chris in heartfelt thanks instead.

He may have said something in reply, but Ashley had already settled into the passenger seat and opened to the first page of the book, so she was already long gone. A fact that Chris had anticipated, if the light chuckle he had let out before starting the truck meant anything. And no, Ashley reading a book while Chris drove them to their usual game store across town was not the strange thing either. If Chris hadn't wanted her to read on the drive over and talk to him, then he never would have given her the book now of all times. He would have waited until he had dropped her off home, or not even bought the book in the first place. After over a half a decade of friendship, if anyone knew what would happen after giving Ashley Brown a new book, it was Chris Hartley.

The drive over is done quicker then she had expected, and even then Chris still hadn't let her know that they had arrived until she had finished her chapter. Yes he had certainly teased her about it the entire time, joking about how she would never find someone as understanding of her reading habits then him (he didn't know how right he was, that she didn't want to find anyone else), but the fact that he had just continued to let the music play in the truck and distracted himself on his phone was so unbearably sweet that she decided to let it lie.

The fact that Ashley and Chris hung around in the game shop comparing dice and looking at new books while wincing over the prices for nearly two hours wasn't what was off either. Hell, if anything the fact that they only spent a couple of hours there before leaving was weird! Her, Chris, and Josh could easily spend almost half a day in there flipping through comics and rolling dice to test them out, only leaving because a tired employee was forced to ask them to leave for making too much noise and taking up a table when they weren't playing anything, especially when there was a group that had been waiting for a table for close to an hour now.

Which brought Ashley to where she was right now, sitting at a sticky plastic table under the shade of a cheap umbrella while Chris had run off to get them some ice cream before dropping her off at home. Her new book was open in front of her, the pages crisp white even in the umbrella's shade, but her mind wasn't on the book anymore. A random line had a character mentioning that something had been feeling off all day ever since they woke up ('like everything had been moved three centimeters to the left, so while it all looked normal, nothing felt right anymore'), and Ashley had also realized that hey, wait a second, her day was also feeling just a little wonky too! But no matter how hard she thought about it, she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was. Today had just been a normal day hanging out with Chris after all. They went to see (and bailed) a movie, spent hours hanging out in the mall and at the game store, and now they were each going back home. Nothing unusual had happened, so why did it feel like something hugely monumental had been going on all day?

"Oi. Earth to Ash, you okay in there?"

A light flick to the center of Ashley's forehead has her blink in surprise, and she finds herself back into the present once again. Chris is standing next to her, carefully balancing the two cones in his right hand and his left ready to flick again if needed, and a bemused smile on his face.

"Oh, uh, sorry Chris. Got a little too into the book I think." She closes the book, not wanting to get melting ice cream all over its crisp white pages (and she really hasn't absorbed a single word for nearly ten minutes now), but Chris doesn't hand her the cone just yet.

"Yeah, I'm not buying that," Chris says as he snorts in disbelief. "I know your 'praise be to books' look, and that was not it. That was your 'head full, too many thoughts' look."

"Excuse me? What? I do not have a reading look! Or a thinking look for that matter!"

"Oh you do. You really, really do. Trust me. You may have been staring at that book but there was no way that you were reading, I would bet my own ice cream here on it." Chris brandishes his double chocolate cone at her, then seems to reconsider and switches to show off her own dipped soft serve that he still has yet to actually let her eat. "Actually, you know what? I would eat your dipped monstrosity if I'm wrong."

Ashley sighs, but she can't keep the smile from her face. "It's not that bad this time, oh my god. It's chocolate ice cream dipped in blueberry syrup. This is actually a normal combination for people who go out of their way to order more exciting cones then two scoops of chocolate." She leans forward and places her elbows on the table to support her head in her hands. "But I wanna see you do it anyway, so tell me exactly why you're so convinced that I wasn't reading."

Chris opens his mouth, but immediately closes it a second later, as though he didn't realize exactly what he had signed himself up for here until now. Ashley of course takes it as a sign of victory. "I knew it. So let's see this Chris, I wanna see you eat something that isn't—"

"When you read you get, like, super attentive." Chris's face is pink, and not looking at her but at the book on the table as he bashfully continues. "You become so drawn in to whatever you're reading that you ignore everything going on around you, because all of your attention is now on that book. Pretty sure a bomb could go off right next to you and you wouldn't even notice sometimes. And it's always so easy to tell what's happening in the book when you're reading too, cause your face is always so expressive. Like your eyes get big when something exciting or surprising happens, and when you're really enjoying whatever it is you're reading, you start giggling like a loon."

Ashley is too stunned and, quite frankly, her heart is beating too fast for her to even think of a proper response to that . She manages to squeak out a quiet little "oh, um" but Chris doesn't notice. Not when he's still babbling and not looking at her at all.

"But when you get deep in thought, you're not like that at all. All of your attention goes inward, and everything around you disappears cause all the important stuff is going on inside your head right now. Your mouth falls open just a little, sort of like you're gaping at all the information in front of you. And-and sometimes you'll mouth out what's going on inside your head as you try to fit the pieces of everything together so it's neat and tidy like a puzzle. And even though you have the, like, blankest stare imaginable, it's not empty at all if that makes any sense. Cause your eyes narrow and your forehead scrunches just the tiniest amount so you have a small little wrinkle form like right here—" with his unoccupied hand Chris points at the bridge of his nose right between his eyes "—and it's weirdly, insanely cute? But when you finally figure out the puzzle in your head, your face lights up like a kid on christmas morning and...and..." He lets his words trail off and stops awkwardly there, as though finally realizing exactly what he's been saying this entire time.

His face is almost beet red now, and Ashley is pretty sure hers is too. "Oh, uh, wow. I-I didn't realize you paid any attention to me when I was like that..."

Somehow his face only gets redder, and though he mumbles the words under his breath, Ashley can still make them out. "I'm always paying attention to you."

But not close enough attention it seems, she thinks sadly. If you did then you would have noticed something way more obvious than that. But she doesn't want to embarrass him anymore than he already is (then she already is), and she isn't sure what else she could possibly say that wouldn't be her blurting out that she likes him, so instead she pretends that she hadn't heard a single thing and wordlessly accepts the ice cream that he hands to her, accepting her defeat as she takes a small bite of the blueberry covered chocolate soft serve.

...The blueberry covered chocolate soft serve that he had bought for her. Or, you know, the ice cream he had paid for himself. Just like he had paid for everything today. Kind of like it was almost a, uh, date. Like he had taken her on a date.

Oh .

"Oh boy, let me guess: I was right and your ice cream really is a crime against taste buds?"

Ashley comes crashing back down to reality to see Chris, his face still a little red but the playful smile back on his face as he teased her. And yet, that only makes it worse as she can't help but feel the usual gymnastics routine the butterflies in her stomach perform at that particular smile, only they're a thousand times worse now that's she's realized exactly why today had felt so strange. And she can't help thinking how much everyone else would classify what was just a day hanging out with her best friend as a date. And how much she really, really wished it was one.

"Nope," she unfortunately squeaks out, and clears her throat so she can continue in a more normal tone of voice. "Nope, sorry to disappoint Chris, but the ice cream tastes fine." She takes another bite for proof (and to her credit she's not lying, it tastes more than fine). "Just, uh, realized something funny that's all." And the moment the words leave her mouth she realizes just how badly she's screwed everything up, because there is no way in any world that Chris Hartley is just going to let that comment lie.

"Funny? Oho, well now I'm interested. You mind sharing your glorious epiphany with the rest of the class Miss Brown?"

Taking another small taste of her ice cream, Ashley averts her gaze as she gives what she is kicking herself for is obviously an extremely forced laugh. "Did I say funny? I meant boring, just super boring actually."

"Well now I just want to hear it more."

"No, you don't. Trust me, you really, really don't."

Chris's brows furrow in concern. "Ash? You okay?"

She isn't, of course she isn't. She's now realized exactly what a date with Chris would be like, and it would be exactly like this. With them going to all the same place and doing the same things but she's allowed to hold his hand and kiss him when he does stupid sweet things like buying her the book she's been eyeing and talking about all day. She's never wanted something to be so true so badly in her life. And it's likely this thought in her mind that causes her to blurt out "A date." before she even realizes what she's said.

That only makes the confusion on Chris's face go deeper, which is appropriate considering she's sinking deeper and deeper into her chair in a futile effort to hide or escape as well. "What? Are you saying that you just remember what date it is today? Or that you had something you were supposed to do today instead? I'm not really following you right now Ash..."

This is perfect. It's the perfect excuse, she could laugh and say that she totally forgot what day it was and that she had an essay due pretty soon, or that she was supposed to babysit for a neighbour tonight. Anything really, the sky was quite literally the limit. And instead she just bit her lip and stared at the ice cream melting in her hand before weakly admitting "No, a, uh, date. As in, the romantic kind. I realized that today probably looks like a date to anyone else. Funny, huh?"

She's not sure how Chris would react to that. Maybe a startled laugh, and hand wave as he brushes her off. A scoff as he assures her that this definitely isn't a date, cause they're just friends and that's all they'll ever be. Whatever the reaction she expected, it was certainly not the fumbling for his ice cream as he nearly drops it in his shock, and how absolutely flustered he sounds as he trips over his own tongue. "W-what? I-I-I, uh—I mean, th-this obviously isn't—Who would even—? Wh-what would even give you the idea that we could um, possibly be on a date?"

Ashley shrugs weakly. "Isn't it obvious Chris?" She ignores his even more flustered babbling that no, he absolutely did not see what was so obvious as she continued on, still too nervous to look him in the eyes. "You've kind of paid for everything today."

"I wha—? I mean, no I haven't!"

"You kind of have, Chris. The theater?"

"You know I always pay for the tickets, and it would have just been really rude to make the line even longer!"

"The art show?"

"It was just a couple of toonies! And you saw the face of the worker there, they would have kicked us right out if they'd had to break a twenty. It was just easier."

"Lunch?"

"They-they'd had a special on for a two-person meal at that stall in the food court, and they wouldn't let each of us pay half..." he neglected to point out that Ashley could have easily paid for their lunch, and probably should have, but before she had been able to offer he'd already been swiping his debit card.

"The arcade?"

"Okay, that was my turn to buy the tokens, you know that. That one doesn't even count."

Ashley lifted her eyes from the ice cream to the book that sat menacingly and innocently all at one at the center of the table, it's pristine cover mocking her. "The book?"

"T-that was just a gift! You seemed really into it at the store and friends buy each other gifts all the time—"

There was no describing how soft and nervous her voice got as she asked the question that would put the final nail in the coffin. "The ice cream?"

"I, uh, it was just—um..." Chris let out a breath in a weak chuckle. "Shit, I guess I kind of did, huh?"

Ashley doesn't say anything, and neither does Chris, as the table goes silent. She's bracing herself for when Chris inevitably shoots her down and confirms that it doesn't matter. That the two of them will never be anything more then friends and that she never should have hoped for anything more and by revealing this she's ruined their friendship for good—

"Hey, uh, Ash?" He sounds so nervous that it immediately takes Ashley out of her anxiety driven thoughts of doom and gloom, but she can't do anything more than just shakily nod to let him continue. "It's, uh, probably like a really, really, really stupid question but—" he takes a nervous breath "—did you want this to be a date?"

Her head immediately shoots up as she stares at him with wide eyes, her breath caught somewhere in her throat where her heart is currently lodged. She frantically rakes her eyes over Chris's face looking for any hint that he's mocking her, or playing some cruel joke on her and her feelings, but all she sees is just nervousness all over a pale, shaking face with what she thinks ( prays ) is a glimmer of undisguised hope. But it's still too much uncertainty, and she's too scared to risk it all on a mere glimmer that she is likely only imagining because she wants it so badly to be real, so she throws the question back at him instead.

"...would you have been opposed if this was actually a date?"

"Nuh uh, I asked you first."

Ashley realizes that he's just as scared at what the answer might be as she is. She wants to tell him, has wanted to tell him for years and years and years. And maybe this is the chance she's been waiting for her whole life. The two of them sitting at a sticky plastic table under the early evening sun, long forgotten ice cream melting in their hands, and she can finally tell him that she's had such a huge crush on him since she was twelve.

"Yeah." The word is less choked out than it is released. Like it's a breath of fresh air and she feels simultaneously lighter and heavier for it. "I-I think I would have liked that. I would have liked that alot."

Chris snaps his gaze up to meet hers, and the glimmer of hope that she had seen earlier has now nearly taken over his face at the disbelieving smile that's threatening to crack his face in two. "Really? I-I mean, uh, I would have been alright with the idea too. More than alright actually."

She can feel her own smile start to nervously match his, and then the first giggle breaks out. His own ecstatic laughter quickly follows her own until the two of them are both giddily laughing at the table, but too embarrassed and bashful to even look at each other now. The giggling abruptly cuts off when Chris lets out a yelp of surprise when he realizes how much of his ice cream has melted onto his hand and Ashley joins him in trying to finish off their ice cream before it's melted entirely. But there's definitely a change in the atmosphere around them now. The contentness and laid back ease that always formed between them whenever they hung out was still there, but there is a charge that hadn't been there before either. An excited anticipation that only surges higher and higher whenever Ashley shyly glances in Chris's direction to find he's looking at her with the same disbelieving smile beaming on his face.

They never say anything more about it as they both finish off the ice cream, but Ashley knows. With that little agreement, the entire day had changed. This wasn't just them hanging out as friends anymore, this was an actual, factual date now, pure and simple. So when Chris hands her a couple of extra napkins to clean herself off, she may have let her fingers brush against his for just a moment. The resulting blush and dumbstruck smile on his face when he cautiously took his hand back so he could clean up the rest of the mess on the table was oh so worth it. And when he returned from his trip to the garbage can and held out his hand as an offer to help her up from the chair, she accepted it readily.

Once she's back on her feet, the two of them drop their eyes to stare at their still clasped hands, realizing that they could easily hold hands the entire short walk back to Chris's truck if they wanted. And she does want that—horribly in fact—but it seems it's still a little too early for either of them to make that teeny tiny but monumental jump to hand holding so they let go awkwardly and slowly, letting their fingers linger against the others before letting go completely. As though giving themselves a taste of what may yet actually come to pass in the (hopefully) very near future.

The short walk back to the truck is filled with both anticipation and dread alike, but unusually silent. Ashley knows it's because she's now a buzzing ball of nervous energy, terrified that saying anything at all will shatter this dream that's apparently coming true before her eyes, but Chris is different. He looks more like he's trying to work up the courage to say or ask something, and is spending all his energy on that alone. So when he reaches out to open up the passenger side door for her, Ashley can feel her heart pick up speed when he stops with his hand on the door handle and looks at her nervously. His mouth opens and shuts a couple of times as he tries to work up the courage to say whatever it is he wants to say, and all she can do is stare at him expectantly as she struggles to hold back an excited smile.

"Hey, Ash, ca—nevermind. It's, it's stupid. Don't worry about it." A second later, he has the door opened for her and the moment she can't see his face, she lets her smile fall crestfallen. But only for a second before a polite one replaces it as thanks when he closes the door for her and continues to his side of the truck. It's fine, she supposes as she buckles herself in, while the two of them have been hanging out all day, it's only been an actual date now for barely ten minutes. And once he drops her off home in just another few short minutes it's going to be over. The fact that she even managed to get this far is franky mind blowing, so expecting anything more from her dreams would just be extremely selfish. She can't have everything she wants all at once, no matter how long she's been waiting for it.

The drive back to her place is also quiet, filled with only the droning of the radio playing in the background. Ashley's returned back to her book, but she knows that Chris knows that she's not absorbing a single word, hasn't turned a single page even. She keeps glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as he nervously taps at the steering wheel, and then tightening his grasp when it looks like he's going to say something, only to return to the nervous tapping when he inevitably backs out at the last second and returns to the frantic pep talk he's likely giving himself. The air that fills the vehicle is heavy and thick with anticipation and it's taking almost everything in Ashley to not start shaking the question out of Chris at every red light they stop at.

But, eventually, they pull up in front of her place and Chris stops the truck. There's a moment where the two of them just sit there, not wanting to leave because leaving means the end, and Ashley schools her face into a cheery smile in an effort to hide as much of the disappointment as she can when she turns to face him and bid him farewell, only to have it fall to confusion when he starts fumbling at his own seatbelt.

"Chris? What are you doing?"

He struggles further at it, frustrated that the buckle's apparently decided that now is the perfect time for it to stick once again. "Trying to get this fucking thing off."

"Yeah, I figured that much. But why are you trying to take it off, you're just gonna leave right away again anyway."

He slows his fumbling as cheeks start darkening in embarrassment. "I, uh, I just thought that was something you were supposed to do after a date, walk them to their door to stay goodnight. I mean, at least I think this is a date now? And, and only if you're okay with it! I can stay in here instead if you don't want me to. I was just hoping..."

The once forced cheery smile on her face is certainly not being forced any longer, if anything she's trying not to show how much the idea of Chris walking her to her door thrills her. "N-no!" Well, so much for trying not to show how desperately she wants that. The startled look he gives her at the unexpected outburst had her trying to control her voice into something less desperate, but considering she doesn't think she's ever going tame the frantic butterflies that have been flapping around non-stop in her stomach ever since the ice cream realization, she's probably doing a terrible job of it. "I-I mean if you want to, it's completely up to you after all..."

"Cool. Cool cool cool. Just, just give me a second." He continues to struggle with his seatbelt buckle, letting out more and more agitated curses escape the longer the thing continues to stick, and Ashley is getting the feeling that if he was able, Chris would have ripped the entire thing straight out of the seat by now. Broken safety laws and ensuing repair costs be damned. The moment he finally manages to unstick the traitorous buckle it's with a cry of victory and relief so exuberant that Ashley finds herself laughing in disbelief and awe that he had wanted to walk her the short ten or so feet to her front door that badly. Thankfully, for both of them, her seatbelt unclicks easily and much more quickly in comparison, only taking another couple of seconds to grab her bag from the footwell and joining him.

The far too short walk up to her door is over before either of them realize it. One second the two of them had been standing awkwardly and nervously by the truck as she fought the urge to reach out and grab his hand, and the next they're standing just as awkwardly and nervously (if not moreso) in front of the front door. Both of them waiting for the other to say or do something to break the tension, but cleanly aware that doing so would signal the very final end of the day, and the date. In fact, just knowing that Chris doesn't want this to end just as badly as her, is what gives her the courage to look at him with a surprisingly heartfelt and soft smile.

"Today was fun."

Chris lifts his eyes from where they had been staring at the dried leaves on the doorstep to match her smile. "Yeah. It was."

"And thanks. For the movie, and everything else." Ashley raises her hand to give the new and still shiny paperback a small wave. "And, you know, the book too. Of course."

"Yeah, it was no problem. Anytime." There's something with how he says the last bit—not really emphasizing it but making it clear all the same that he means 'anytime'—that causes her face to flush giddily as she pulls her lower lip in between her teeth in a weak effort to fight back against the ecstatic smile that forms anyway. And when she sees his eyes lower just a smidge to follow the motion and the way his shoulders stiffen in reaction, Ashley very quickly also finds she's trying (much more successfully) to hold herself back from just saying 'to hell with it' and throwing her arms around Chris so she can finally kiss him silly and until they're both breathless. But considering that she's too much of a coward to initiate something as innocent as hand holding apparently, there is absolutely no way that something as...as scandalous as kissing him on her doorstep is ever going to happen. Clearly.

And yet, she gives Chris another few seconds to try and work past that blockade in his throat, but when he still can't muster a single word, she decides to just put the both of them out of their misery. Or further into it. It's probably just the same thing really. "I guess I'll see you next time. I'll talk to you later, okay?" She turns away and puts her hand on the doorknob, and tucks the book under her arm so she can dig into her bag for keys, but is stopped when Chris's hand abruptly snakes out and wraps itself firmly around her wrist before she can reach into the bag. And it works—boy does it ever —turning back to him and the hand wrapped around her wrist as excitement just starts to bubble up inside of her.

A second later though, his brain has apparently caught up with the movement he clearly hadn't intended to make, because his face goes beet-red and he's dropped her hand so he can shove both into the pockets of his jeans. He averts his eyes so he's back to staring at the loose gravel and dried leaves under their feet.

"Oh, uh, sorry about that. I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine, Chris." Ashley tries to smile softly at him in reassurance, but it's considering she's gripping the doorknob in an almost vice-like grip in anticipation, it's likely far more eager than she would like. "What is it?"

Somehow, his face goes even redder and he blurts out the question so fast that it may as well have been one word. "CanIkissyou?!"

Immediately, Ashley's gaping at him wide-eyed and her mouth open in shock as her heart's beating so fast that she's pretty sure it's ready to burst out of her chest at any moment. "Wha—"

"I-I mean goodnight. Can I kiss you goodnight? That's what people are supposed to do on dates, right? A-a-a-and I think we agreed that this is a date now, or at least I really, really hope we did. Cause I've wanted to go on a date with you for the longest time and-and-and I didn't want Saundra or-or-or any of your neighbours to see cause I know that would just really embarrass you and me but I've been trying to ask you for the past thirty minutes now cause I've wanted to kiss you since forever but I was scared about how you would react cause I really, really, really like you Ash and I just wanna to kiss you so fucking bad right now you have no idea and—"

Ashley would like to believe that she's brave enough to throw her arms around Chris and drag him down into that searing kiss she's been dreaming about forever and ever, but she doesn't. Even with a confession that is everything she's ever wanted to hear and more. That's not to say that she doesn't want to do it—god does she want to do it—but she's so frozen in place from shock that she physically can't. So instead she just continues to gape at him as he (adorably) rambles on and on, and giggles out an elated little "okay".

His nervous rambling stops dead in its tracks, and he finally looks back up at her, nervous relief evident all over his face. "Really? I mean, are you sure? I'd understand if you didn't want to—"

" Chris ."

That immediately shifts the relief to a different kind of nervousness entirely, one of excited disbelief, but even then neither move to actually initiate this promised kiss for several seconds. Instead just staring at each other waiting for the other to be the first to move, Chris with his hands still in his jeans pockets and Ashley glued to the doorknob with her other hand frozen as it hovers over her bag. Finally, Chris is the first to slowly bend down to meet her awkwardly half turned body, and she unsteadily tries to rock herself onto the tips of her toes without losing her balance completely and falling over. And still, they both pause about an inch away from each other's faces, though whether to give the other an out if needed or just to work through the logistics of how to do this exactly without their foreheads or noses smashing into each other or Chris's glasses getting in the way is anyone's guess.

But finally, mainly due to the fact that Ashley can't lean forward anymore without falling completely on her face, Chris closes that final bit of distance and kisses her. It's a nervous brush of the lips really—a quick peck at best —but they jolt back from each other so quickly that the single action may as well have activated some hidden magnetic repel function that neither had been aware of until this moment. Both of them are staring at each other wide-eyed and breathless as the magnitude of what they had both finally managed to accomplish hit them. The kinda-sort confession and the almost hand holding meant absolutely nothing in comparison to this. Those she could have (and would most likely have) brushed off as her reading too much into innocent statements and gestures when she thought over everything that had happened today in the safety of her room later tonight. But this? This was physical proof .

Looking back, Ashley's not sure which of them moved first. One second they had been staring at each other in disbelief, stuck in the same awkward bent and leaning stature from before, and the next it's as if the magnetic attraction between them reverses its flow entirely. Chris is cupping her cheek with one hand as he kisses her in the way she always dreamed he would, his other hand slowly skating across the back of her neck so he can pull her up closer to him. The book that had once been clutched protectively under her arm was completely forgotten about—fallen to the ground with a sharp crunch as it crushed the dried leaves beneath their feet—as her arms wrapped possessively around his shoulders as she props herself as high as the tips her toes will allow her. She can still taste a hint of the chocolate from earlier on his lips, and the small part of her that isn't being blown away by all of this is wondering if he can taste the blueberry and chocolate on hers as well.

She's not sure how long the two of them stood there on her doorstep, kissing for all the world to see, but she does know that they still separate much, much too soon for her liking. Not that they fully separate of course. She may be back on the soles of her feet, but neither of them have removed themselves from the embrace itself. And with the way that Chris is lightly brushing his thumb over her cheekbone as he just stares at her with the same stupidly giddy grin she's got, Ashley would be perfectly fine if they could just stay standing like this forever.

"So..." she starts, and stops to take a moment to giggle when Chris bumps his nose into hers. "I think that was a perfectly acceptable first date if you ask me."

Chris doesn't let go of her when he leans back to consider her, the comically raised eyebrows in shock doing nothing to take away from the absolutely thrilled beam of his smile. " First date? Why Miss Brown, are you perhaps asking me out for a second one already?"

"I mean, if it's not too presumptuous of me, I suppose I am. I-if you're not opposed to it of course." She can't help the way her nervousness starts to bleed through with that last sentence, already panicking that she's somehow completely misread everything that's just happened and that maybe that kiss didn't mean as much to him as it did to her after all.

His next words completely derail those fears entirely. "Of course I'm not, I would love nothing more than to go on a second date with you. Followed by a third and fourth and even a fifth if you have the time for it."

"I mean, I'm a pretty busy girl but I think I can open up as many days in my schedule as it takes if I need to."

Before she knows it, the two of them are leaning in for another kiss when the sound of pot being dropped in the nearby kitchen through the open window jarringly brings them back to reality and the two of them let go of each other red faced and embarrassed. Oh no, how much of this had her mother heard? Or worse, saw? She wants to leave the doorstep (which is rapidly becoming her favourite place in the whole entire world) even less now, but the longer she takes the worse the excited interrogation from Saundra will be so she starts digging back into her bag to try and find her keys once again.

"I'll text you later, okay? And, maybe, we can talk some more about that second date...?"

The reply from Chris is flustered but eager. "Yeah, totally. I-I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Cool. And um, the next one's one me. The date that is. It's only fair after all."

"Yeah, right. Only fair. Totally. And, uh, your book..."

She finally finds her keys from where they had sunk to the bottom of her bag, and looks up at him and the paperback book that had fallen during their, uh, intimate embrace. "Oh! Uh, right. Thanks." She could easily leave it at that, but the last few minutes have made her bold so when she reaches out to take the book back from him, Ashley curls her fingers over his and bounces onto the balls of her feet so she can give him one last kiss on his cheek—almost the corner of his mouth really—before finally stepping back with the book and keys in her hand. "I mean it. Thanks . For everything."

"Yeah. No problem. It was my pleasure."

She lets herself have one last glimpse of the stupefied grin on his face just as he turns to walk just a little unsteadily down the path back to his truck. The only sounds being the leaves crushing underfoot and the jangle of metal as she sticks her keys into the door to finally unlock it. A sound that it quickly interrupted by not only the click of the door unlocking, but a muffled shout.

Alarmed, she turns quickly expecting to see Chris having accidentally shut his coat into the door as he is sometimes known to do when the weather gets colder, but instead watches in elated shock as he continues to keep energetically flapping his arms and fist pumping into the air and screaming what she can vaguely make out as 'yesyesyesyesYESYESYES' over and over again.

Suddenly it hits her. Despite the shy confession over ice cream, and then the much more rushed and rambled one only minutes ago, and followed by the kiss(es) that are still sending her heart into rapid fire, Ashley still hadn't believed what all the evidence had been saying. Chris liked her. He really, really liked her. Possibly as much as she liked him even! This wasn't just a one-off event that would now make things awkward between them for the rest of their lives. This was happening. They'd just had a first(!!!!) date and after Chris had kissed her goodbye, she had asked him out for a second one.

And he had accepted .

Ashley fumbled with the door and the moment she was in the house, slammed the door behind her, not even bothering to lock it. She let her bag fall from her shoulder to the floor with a soft thump and slowly slid down the door until she was sitting against it with her eyes wide and breathless. She ignored the surprised clatter coming from the kitchen as Saundra immediately dropped whatever it was she had been doing in and held up the book so she could stare at the once innocuous cover in amazement.

He had bought her this book and the ice cream because he liked her and he had gladly and excitedly accepted to go out on another date with her. And even more if he had been serious about that third date and beyond line.

And not that either would ever know it, Ashley mirrored Chris at that exact moment by placing her head into her hands and screaming as the built up joy and bliss finally exploded out of her.

#pride month prompt challenge #my writing #until dawn #chris hartley #ashley brown #chrashley #take two of trying post this stupid thing!#tumblr deleted the last one >:(#but this one actually copied over the italics so that saves me a shit ton of time if im being honest

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milstrim · 4 years ago

Text

Death By a Thousand Feathers

The teenager shook off the rubble, wincing as grit gripped into the cuts that littered her body. The girl looked behind her at the destroyed building, coughing as she tried to regain the breath she'd lost when trapped underneath. She swerved away, turning to look at the silver figure of Adrian Toomes, perched and waiting on the billboard. She couldn't think about the building she'd been over, she couldn't think about how her pitiful suit had been more or less destroyed, falling in tatters off of her, and she couldn't think about how afraid she was. She couldn't think. She had to act.

Spider-Woman shivered as her spidey sense trembled up her spine. She glanced up at where Adrian was glaring into the sky, her eyes widening as she made out a ripple in the air. The StarkJet.

The Vulture's wings ruffled. She leaped.

Penny made it to the man in three quick bounds, clinging onto the smooth surface and shooting out a web after the metal man, whose wings rattled as he sped through the sky. The teenager was yanked, her toes ripped from the billboard and into the clearness of the September sky.

Flight wasn't smooth like she thought it'd be. When she'd imagine her hero, Iron Man, diving through through air in a seamless, perfect arc. Instead, she shook, bounced by the air, drawing a terrified yell from her. Flying was loud, rushing through her ears and barely blocked by her thin mask that was somehow still strapped to her face.

Maybe flying in the Iron Man armor was cooler. If she survived this, and managed to save everything, maybe she could ask Tony Stark. It'd bee cool to meet him, though, as she was taken through the clouds, cold droplets clinging to her and glossing over her goggles, this wasn't exactly how she'd imagined it. Hopefully the man didn't blame her for this.

Penny clung on as the Vulture flew up behind the plane, the winged man twisting carefully in air until they were under it. Penny, still being violently shaken by the wind, was bounced off of the cloaked surface. She choked back a scream as pain was littered against her bruises and cuts, instead managing to keep it to, "Oh, my god! Oh, my god!"

She shot a web that flew past her, disappearing before she could even see it. Terrified, Penny clutched her fingers into the plane, wincing as the metal bent under her touch, but it was better than nothing. Hopefully Mr. Stark wouldn't be too made about a dent. She probably had bigger problems to worry about with whatever the fuck Toomes was doing anyway.

Her goggles squinted as she watched his wings cocoon, clicking onto the surface of the plane parasitically, a whistle of wind bouncing off of the dark gray feathers. Penny took a halting crawl forward, but was immediately scooted back by the wind. She barely managed to get a grip and not be thrown off the plane completely, digging her feet into the metal.

"Come on, Penny. Come on," she muttered to herself, trying again. Every movement was slow and painful, her ribs digging painfully and her fingers streaked red as they were forced into the plane for added grip. She grit her teeth, but kept forward until she was by the wings.

Penny kicked.

Nothing happened at first, so she decided to try tearing at it, not that it gave. A drone dropped from the wings, stealing a shocked gasp from her, but it did nothing, instead it continued on straight. The plane veered, and she practically hugged the plan, clinging on as hard as she could. After a few moments, when nothing else happened, she kept kicking.

Kick. Nothing.

Kick. Something.

She heard a dim alarm go on inside the plane as she continued to kick, trying to get the thing to fall off entirely. She didn't want to have to fight the wings again, but when had the universe ever taken into account what she wanted?

The wings sprung to life, the motors whirring before opening. Penny gasped in fear as the Vulture dropped back, swooping away in a great arc around the plane, his wings slicing through the air mechanically. Gasping, the girl clung her way up the plane, panting with every terrified slip and just doing her best to stay in the moment. She didn't want to let go.

"Just a typical homecoming on the outside of an invisible jet..." she gasped, the wind slapping her onto her back as she failed to dig her fingers into the plane door, "Fighting my girlfriend’s dad."

A screeching caught her attention. She swiveled hastily, shooting a pitiful web and ducking just in time to avoid the slice of wings. Sparks came to life, searing the air with heat.

The Vulture flew and so did she. Penny yelled, shooting back a desperate web at the plane. She was left suspended between the two, her arms feeling like they were going to break for a second before the web snapped. She let go.

Penny hung in air for a terrifying moment, flung as the plane moved ever forward, its jet ready to swallow her whole. She screamed, her throat scratchy as she held out her arms and shot with everything she possibly could. Her eyes squeezed shut as she was caught in. When they blinked open, it was to find her snugly caught in the webbed propeller.

"Wow. I can't believe that worked," she gasped. The propeller fell from its socket, and Penny barely managed to grab on, kicking off of the broken piece of the plane and managing to pull herself back up, "Sorry, Mr. Stark."

Any other thoughts or quips were stifled by Toomes' return. Penny dove, the wings sliced where she'd just been, more sparks fizzing as she tried desperately to cling on. Tried.

The wind swept her back, and she tried to force back a grip, barely managing to stick her hands. She slid, stuffing her boot against the ground, the sound of a propeller whirring behind her. The teenager looked under her, her eyes widening in terror as she caught sight of the back half of the jet, a wheel of fire.

The Vulture dove back down, claws scraping against the plane as he dove towards her, his green eyes alight. Penny allowed herself to be swept back, attaching a web to keep herself from flying away and narrowly avoiding the swiping cut of his wings, scraping painfully in a gutterul noise. His wings cut again, this time snapping her web.

Penny screamed as she was forced back, flying into the air as Toomes clawed forward. Her scream was cut as she slammed against the propeller, narrowly missing the cutting blades and instead flying back, her entire body aching with pain and pumping adrenaline. Quick as a shot, she latched out a web, hanging on as smoke filled the air, flying into her face.

The plane began to dip.

Towards the city.

"Oh, my God!"

Spider-Woman began forward, climbing up the web, clawing her way back onto the plane. She dove towards the center, ignoring the Vulture who was digging into the plane.

Penny shook out her hands, her breaths short and shallow with the height and adrenaline, shooting a web and attaching herself to to ground. With a heavy grunt, she pulled.

The plane twisted. Her arms burst.

The city underneath them stretched, falling behind and instead being replaced by the tall twists of Coney Island. Better than the city.

The web snapped and she fell to her knees, curling her fists into the plane's wing, her eyes squeezing in a silent prayer. The plane crashed.

Sound left her. All she was aware of was the pain as she was launched, tumbling in a million rolls into the sand, her skin tearing and scratching. He goggles snapped against her face painfully, pushed in just a little too far. Heat scratched at her, tugging and clawing uncomfortably at her.

Penny finally came to a rolling stop, lying with her back against the stirred up sand. Fire rose in dark red plumes all around her, and she was sure it was crackling, and that the wind was roaring, but she could hear nothing but the ringing of her own ears.

She gasped as she sat up, fumbling hands tugging at her mask, tugging the fabric off desperately. She grunted as it practically peeled off of her, throwing it into the sand in painful disdain before stumbling back onto her elbows. Coughing, the girl rolled onto her arms and knees, picking herself up, her feet dancing in exhaustion.

A tingle ran up her spine. She turned, squinting. Green eyes and sharp claws burst from the night sky.

She gasped, the world returning in a rush of sound as the metal clamped around her pushing her into the sand. She tried to tear at the claws digging into her shoulders, screaming at the wounds she could feel forming as the tips broke her skin. The wings whirred, lifting her into the sky. Penny tugged, and they let go.

She swirled, gasping for air as she shot a web, flinging herself into the armored man, unbalancing him and forcing him to dip low. But it wasn't enough.

The wings shuddered, shaking her off and slamming her against the ground. A pained mumbled escaped, her eyes closing, the grit in her eyes forcing her to blink them back awake in the hazy red. Blood trickled from her mouth.

The Vulture flew closer, extending a hooked feather. It went through her stomach. Penny screamed.

It came out as a gurgle, but the pain was still loud. It was overwhelming, searing and tugging, but it didn't end there. Toomes picked her up through the wound, lifting her as though she were a steak on a skewer. He looked at her like she was one, too. But then he looked past her, hunger and desperation filling his eyes.

"Bingo."

She could only let out a mumbled scream as the feather retreated, leaving her to fall back down onto the ground. Red seeped into the sand and spluttered from her lips. A winged shadow passed over her.

Determined and fearful, Spider-Woman crawled, flipping herself over with an agonizing scream, a cold shudder screaming through her. The teenager managed to turn enough to see the Vulture clamped onto a broken box of arc reactors. His wings were just as broken, fizzing and crackling and smoking. They were going to explode.

"Your wing suit," she tried to warn, "Your wing suit’s gonna explode!"

Penny, trembling, inched her hand forward, grunting in pain as she clicked down on her webshooters. A thin line shot out, attaching itself to the man. She lifted herself up, pulling with all her might but falling to her knees immediately. Her legs refused to hold her body, but she would hold her will.

The Vulture pulled back at her tug, flashing a smile back at her, blood leaking from a cut above his lip, "Time to go home, Pen."

"I'm trying to save you!!"

Her cries fell on deaf ears. Hauntingly familiar, the wings lifted, snapping her web into. She fell onto her back once more, tumbling into the sand, a silent scream of pain escaping her lips. Penny only managed to look up as the Vulture lifted up, the man disappearing in a sea of hot red.

Penny ran into the fire.

---

Tony Stark stared at the fire.

His mouth hung agape, his brows furrowed as he examined what had once been his plane now strewn across a dark, sandy beach. Fires were still lighting up the sky, dark clouds of smoke rolling. What confused him most however, was the way boxes were all piled together. Not just together, stacked, and organized by what was in them.

And, of course, wrapped with a bow (or in this case, sticky white webs) and a cherry on top of an old man, a sour but accepting look on his face as he stared up at their flashlights. He gestured towards a paper stuck beside him.

Tony squinted, hastily scribbled on the paper read, 'FOUND FLYING VULTURE GUY. SPIDER-WOMAN. P.S. SORRY ABOUT YOUR PLANE.'

Tony glanced at Happy beside him, who raised his brows in confusion.

"Spider-Woman?" Happy asked, the word unfamiliar to him, but not to Tony. He didn't know the kid, didn't know who they were either, but he'd heard of the new vigilante that had popped up in Queens.

"Yeah, she saves cats from trees and helps little old ladies. And knocks my jet out of the air apparently," Tony answered, turning back to the man, "Start talking."

"About what?" the man snapped.

"Oh, I don't know. Who you are? Why you did this? Where did Spider-Woman go? Just a couple of starters."

"I'll save my answers for the police, thanks." Tony huffed. "And I wouldn't be so worried about where Spidey is. I doubt you'll have to deal with her anytime soon."

Tony didn't like the sound of that. Whatever had happened here, he wanted answers, "Elaborate on that." The man raise an eyebrow at him. Tony rolled his eyes, he held out a gauntlet watch that whined as it charged, "Look, I'm a little peeved about what happened tonight, so either we do this the easy way, or the hard way."

The man sighed, shifting as if unbothered, but he pointed his head to their left, saying, "She went that way, but I doubt she'll get far. She's a little...banged up."

There was something in his voice, suggesting. This man thought Spider-Woman was going to die. Tony swore, beginning to run off, "Hold down everything here, Happy! I'll be back later!!"

"Where are you going!?" Happy yelled back, but Tony didn't answer, he was already in search.

Most of his suits had been on the jet, but he'd kept one with him as a precaution. He stepped into it now, shooting off into the air before the helmet had even fully formed over his face. His screen lit up, messages from frantic members of his company or stock investors at the news of what had happened. He forced it to the side for now. Lives came first.

"I don't want to see any messages right now, Fri," he scolded, steadying himself in air, squinting as he tried to find the usual springy red figure from Queens, "We're looking for Spidey. I want heat signatures, anything abnormal. Look through cameras too, find her."

"Yes, sir."

Tony zipped across rooftops, scanning the ground below him, searching for anything that indicated the superhero's whereabouts. He didn't have to search for long. Friday popped up barely a minute later, a route glowing on screen.

"I found video footage from about ten minutes ago featuring Spider-Woman. She appears critically injured."

"Show me the video."

The footage popped up in front of him, dark and grainy. He squinted to make out the figure in front of him. Her mask was gone, and her suit--if you could call it that--was clearly in tatters. He couldn't see her face, but he caught sight of bouncy hair, previously wrapped up in what looked like an intricate updo, now torn down and flaying out every which direction. The woman stumbled, catching onto a wall and heaving. She remained there for just a minute too long before she raised an arm and zipped away.

"Take me there, Fri."

His AI obliged, the suit zooming in the direction of the alleyway, but when he arrived, there was no one there.

He clunked down against the pavement, his head swinging around as he tried to figure out where the vigilante had gone. He froze. There was blood. A lot of blood. What hadn't before been visible on the camera could be seen now. Red splatters on the ground, pooling thickly and sluggishly. He had to get to Spider-Woman. Fast.

"Heat signatures, Fri," he ordered. And, thinking about how much blood she'd lost, he added, "Prioritize colder ones nearby."

A moment later, there was a slightly red outline, small and not in the alleyway, but close. He flew towards it, shooting up and diving back down to the alleyway over.

He didn't know if his heart had ever dropped as far.

Hidden in an open dumpster, barely a bloody hand peeking out, was Spider-Woman. No, woman wasn't the right word, this was a girl. A kid. A kid who was covered in blood and whose heat was rapidly fading and whose eyes were closed. A kid who was dying.

He swallowed, "Friday. Is she...is she alive?"

"She has a heartbeat, sir, but it is rapidly declining. She needs help. Now."

Determined, he reached into the dumpster and wrapped his arms around the kid. He wasn't going to let her die. Not for his stupid plane and not without at least learning her name. She especially wasn't going to bleed out in a dumpster in that horrid suit.

Tony hoisted her out of the garbage, gently cradling her in his arms and wincing at the blood that was already dripping onto the ground. Gritting his teeth, he launched into the air, doing his best to keep the girl stable and shooting towards the Compound. Friday was already alerting the staff to have a medical team ready.

Looking down at the girl, he hoped he was fast enough.

---

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The blinking was rhythmic, falling in a high pitched ting that grounded her. She needed to be grounded, everything else was floating. She wished she'd stop floating. She didn't like the way it felt. The girl didn't feel like her own person, like she'd just been there all her life and like there was no escape. No escape from the fuzzy darkness that engulfed her.

And then the darkness disappeared. Not all at once, but slowly. The world came back to her piece by piece.

After the beeping, it was the pain. The pain started at her abdomen, sharp and biting, and Penny would've grunted if she could, but whenever she tried to make noise and reach for her aunt, all that came out were pained whimpers.

And then her eyes blinked open.

It was bright, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut immediately, grunting in pain at the brightness. A soft voice beside her said, "Turn the lights down, Friday."

Friday? Who was Friday? And who was that voice? She was sure she recognized it from somewhere...

Penny fluttered back awake, turning towards the slightly familiar sound and freezing. There, sitting on a hospital chair beside her, was Tony Stark. His goatee was sharp and his eyes piercing, just like he was on TV and in pictures, but he was different from the pictures too. For some reason, Penny had only been able to picture him in a suit, but right now he wore tattered jeans and a frayed shirt that had a permanent stain on it.

Her mouth hung open, shocked and frozen in terror. Her brain short-circuited. Where was she? Why was Tony Stark here? Was she dreaming? A nightmare? It felt like a nightmare.

Mr. Stark leaned forward, a flash of concern on his face, "You okay, kid? How are you feeling?"

Penny clamped her mouth shut with an audible click, "Fi--fine. I'm fine. How are--how are you?"

He laughed, and Penny was suddenly made aware of how stupid the question was as her face turned cherry red, considering she was in a hospital bed. Well, it looked like a hospital bed. Was she in a hospital?

"I'm good, kid, thanks to you," he said. She stared up at him with wide eyes. "Thanks for saving my stuff by the way. That was a real brave move, and the Avengers have a lot to thank you for."

"I--uh-thanks. Thank you, sir," she squeaked.

"Don't call me 'sir,' kid. You can call me Tony, Penny." She froze at her name. Mr. Stark rushed to assure, "I won't tell anyone. Your secret's safe with me, don't worry."

Penny sighed, "Thank you."

"No need for thanks. You're the one who saved my plane."

Penny shrugged, "I just couldn't let him take all that stuff and sell it. And I don't think I 'saved' your plane."

He chuckled. "You came close enough."

Penny played with a loose string on her blanket, nervous and slightly flushed "Um, what time is it? And does, uh, does anybody know I'm here?"

"It is 1 AM, and if you're referring to your aunt, she thinks you're at your friend's to spend the night."

"Oh, cool, um thanks."

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes.

"So, your suit was pretty destroyed in your fight," he started, getting up. Penny tried to sit up, her eyes tracking him across the room as he grabbed a suitcase, bringing it back over to him, "And I think you deserve a new one."

He sat back down, holding out the suitcase to her, wary, she grabbed it, gingerly placing it in her lap. She pressed the button, gasping as it lurched open, bright red and blue greeting her. She glanced between the suit and Mr. Stark rapidly, her mouth agape. He smiled at her amazement.

"This is...this is mine?"

"Yep. And if you'd like, a mentorship with yours truly."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that. Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"First lesson." She sat up straighter, waiting for what he was about to say in anticipation. "Don't call me Mr. Stark."

She giggled.

"Of course, Mr. Stark."

#febuwhump 2021 #female peter parker #peter parker #tony stark #irondad #Iron Man #spiderman #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #irondad fanfiction

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twiceinadream · 5 years ago

Text

“I’m being gay with you.”

Requested: Yup

Request: could you write a nachaeng's first kiss scenario please :>

a/u: Hey, guys! So I’ve been gone for a while, and I’m finally posting! Yay! This was honestly supposed to be a small one shot but I kinda blew it out of proportion, and it’s now my longest one. So please enjoy and thank you to everyone who has supported me both and old, and @princesskdh for helping me through some pretty rough writer’s block. Thank you all again! (P.S. Thank you all so much for 1.2K+ followers)

Category: Angst and Fluff

Word Count: 1.5K

Chaeyoung sighed as she stared down at her notes, formulas filled the lines of her notebook as her eyes began drifting to the girl beside her, her lab partner, Im Nayeon. The spoiled rich girl of JYP Academy was the lab partner of the renowned delinquent. The world really did work in mysterious ways. “Chaeyoung-ssi. Chaeyoung-ssi!” Chaeyoung shook her head as she tore her gaze from her lab partner and to the teacher in front of her.

The girl gave her a smile as she was met face to face with her teacher, “Yes, Miss Park.” Her smirk made the older woman’s blood boil as she gripped the paper in her hand harder.

“The principle would like to see you.” Chaeyoung just shrugged as she gathered her things and gave Nayeon a small smile.

“See you later beautiful.” As soon as the words left the younger girl’s mouth she was out of the room in a flash as she quietly celebrated in the hallway, ‘Ahh! I just did that! I hope she knows I’m being gay with her.’ Chae did a small dance of joy before she quickly straightened up and popped the collar of her leather jacket, clearing her throat as she made her way to the front office.

—

The silence was deafening as the man across the young girl sighed heavily, “Chaeyoung-ssi, I am well aware of your reputation around the academy and I’m not blind to your antics. But you need to start getting your act together.” Chaeyoung just rolled her eyes as she slouched into the chair.

“What for?” The man behind the desk gave a small smile, a smile that made Chaeyoung’s skin crawl.

“Oh you know, the usual. Being banned from all school activities and possible suspension.” Suddenly he had the young girl’s attention as she sat up in the chair.

“Banned from school activities!? Like the, Winter Ball!?” The principle gave her a confused look as she seemed to have complete disregard at the mention of suspension, but be concerned over the upcoming Ball.

“But also sus…” the man sighed, “Yes. If your continue on your ‘delinquent streak’ you will be ineligible for the Winter Ball.” Chaeyoung nodded as she rose from the chair.

“So be it.”

—

Chaeyoung crossed her arms as she leaned against the wall behind her. Today was the day, the day she would ask Im Nayeon to the Winter Ball. The shorter girl tracked her as she moved through the cafeteria to keep an eye on her for when she would finally sit. Bingo.

The shorter girl smiled to herself as she moved away from the wall and into the sea of people parting as she walked through, her sights set on one girl. A halo seemed to glow around Nayeon as Chaeyoung came closer, her prominent laugh filled the room as her heart began to pound in her ears, the light in Chaeyoung’s eyes growing brighter. When out of nowhere her vision went black as she ran into someone, “What the h…” Chae shook her head as she backed up, her eyes settling on the chest of the girl that had gotten in her way, her eyes trailing up to her face. Her beauty leaving Chaeyoung absolutely floored as her mouth fell agape, her mind reeling as she noticed the girl began speaking to her.

But Chae had been too focused on watching her lips that she was only able to catch the last few words, “...the Winter Ball with me.” Chaeyoung blinked as the cafeteria suddenly became silent, she could no longer hear Nayeon’s laugh as she stared up at the girl in front of her.

“Yes.” The answer left her mouth before she had to process what had been said to her, and as suddenly as the mystery girl had appeared she was gone, and a piece of paper was left in Chaeyoung’s hand as her eyes wandered to where Nayeon was. Her heart sinking as she was met with the sight of the all star jock, Yoo Jeongyeon smiling up at her as she made the older girl laugh, Chaeyoung felt her heart seize as she opened the folded paper in her hand. ‘Here’s my number, and by the way, my name is Chou Tzuyu.’

—

The night had finally arrived and dread seemed to fill Chaeyoung’s mind as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her suit looked great and her hair had been freshly cut, her makeup done simply. But as well as her night had been going something felt like something was missing, and to Chae’s shame she knew exactly why. It wasn’t Tzuyu’s fault, the girl was actually very sweet even with how painfully shy she was.

Chaeyoung smiled to her mother as she wished her goodnight and made her way to her car, sighing as she started the car and drove to Tzuyu’s house. She had only known her for a few weeks but Chaeng could feel that a friendship had begun to bloom between them and before she could get lost in her thoughts any further she pulled into the Chou resident’s driveway. She turned her car off as she got out and made her way to the door, knocking a few times as she waited on the porch. A few moments passed before the door opened to reveal what looked like a literal angel in Chae’s eyes.

Tzuyu smiled shyly as Chaeyoung complimented her, taking her hand as she led her to her car, opening the door for her as they began their drive to the academy.

—

When they had gotten into the gym it seemed so crowded with students that Chae had no idea how they were ever gonna get through, but they somehow managed and were now dancing the night away (I’m sorry) as the bass seemed to shake the building. She and Tzuyu smiled at each other as the people around them seemed to push them closer, and for a moment Chae had actually forgotten about Nayeon as she left to get herself and Tzuyu some punch.

As Chaeyoung muscled her way through the crowd and back to Tzuyu she nearly dropped the drinks in her hands as her eyes were met with the sight of Tzuyu locking lips with Jeongyeon. The scene made Chaeyoung’s heart break all over again, her eyes stung as she tore her gaze from the sight; pushing past the people around her as she threw the drinks in the trash and ran out the gym doors.

The cold night air filled her senses as she sat on the steps of the gymnasium, cold concrete below her as she looked up to the sky. The stars were brighter than usual tonight ad Chae smiled to herself, until the sound of soft sobs broke through the night’s silence. Chaeyoung was quick to turn around to make sure whoever was behind was okay, not expecting to be greeted with the sight of Nayeon.

She looked more beautiful than ever, even with her makeup running slightly and hiccuped sobs replacing her usual carefree laugh. Chaeyoung frowned as she stood taking off her jacket, silently placing it on Nayeon’s shoulders. The older girl didn’t even need to look to know who it was, she just wrapped her arms around Chaeyoung’s neck as she cried into the shorter girl’s shoulder.

The action taking Chae by surprise as she froze in Nayeon’s hold, quickly relaxing as she tentatively wrapped her arms around Nayeon’s waist; holding onto her tightly till her cries ceased and she pulled away from her. Nayeon sniffled as she gave Chaeyoung a weak smile, “Thanks.” The younger girl smiled back as she put her hands in her pockets unsure of what to do with them.

“No problem. You look beautiful.” Nayeon let out a small laugh as she looked down at herself.

“You’re just being nice. I look like a mess.”

Chaeyoung scoffed in offense, “Well excuse me, if I find this ‘mess’ beautiful.” The older girl just rolled her eyes as she pushed Chae’s shoulder.

“Then you must be copper and tellurium. Because you’re CuTe.” Chaeyoung shook her head as she and Nayeon shared a laugh.

“Wow, I’m impressed you actually listen to Miss Park. I always thought you were too busy staring at her chest.” Nayeon scoffed as Chaeyoung laughed.

“You really have a way with girls, Chaeyoung-ah.” Chae just smirked.

“Well, I am being gay with you.” Nayeon laughed, a real one. The sound making Chaeyoung’s heart beat faster.

“In that case. I am too.” Chaeyoung felt her eyes widen as she looked at Nayeon in disbelief. Her body barely registering Nayeon pulling her into her arms again.

“Unnie. What are you doing?” The older girl shrugged.

“Payback to our dates.”

Suddenly Nayeon’s lips were on Chaeyoung’s. The younger girl could feel her heart pound in her chest as she melted into the kiss, their lips moving in synch as Chaeyoung pulled Nayeon closer. Their bodies fit perfectly with each other, as Chaeyoung’s eyes slid closed as stars erupted in her vision.

Chae couldn’t help but smile against Nayeon’s lips, as she pulled the older girl closer again.

Finally. She had finally found what she had been missing.

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quirkykayleetam · 5 years ago

Text

Water Torture

Originally published for Bad Things Happen Bingo. Reposting because of issues with tagging and notifications. Direct sequel to Grabbed by the Hair. Part of the Broken Pieces Universe. Can be read as a one-shot. Will be continued. See tags for trigger warnings.

The last time the Faceless Men cut Jay out of their zip ties, Jay did not fight them. As blood streaked down their neck, arms, and legs, burning through scars that were never left alone long enough to heal, Jay tried not to picture the whip cutting blood trails through their back. They tried not to imagine the pain of the knife plunging into the soft spots of their rib cage and the agonizing twist their torturer always gave it before pulling it out. They tried not to imagine their throat growing hoarse around screams they knew they could not stop.

It was just another day, Jay thought. Another round of tortuous pain that they would endure for their mother, their clients, their bosses, anyone they could think of that would benefit from this. Jay didn’t think that could get through it just for themselves.

This time when Jay was dragged into the solid metal room on unresponsive legs, there was no whip that they could see, no knife, no chafing manacles. There was only a bucket of green and brackish water. The goons behind them somehow forced Jay’s stiff and aching body into a kneeling position before the vessel as Jay stared at it blankly. Then a new man forced Jay’s wrists’ together and Jay’s screamed.

The Faceless Man had broken Jay’s hands and fingers weeks ago, crunching them to bloody bits. Jay had made sure of that. While the rest of their body had frozen to numbness in their captivity, however, Jay’s hands still hurt like the day the hammer had slammed down on them.

I had to, Jay thought desperately. It was the only way to…

Half-way through their thought and their scream, however, they were thrust forward. Jay sucked briney water into their lungs as a strong hand, fisted in their hair, forced Jay’s head into the bottom of the bucket.

Within moments, Jay’s vision began to go black around the edges. Their world was on fire. The piercing agony in their hands was nothing compared to the burning that coursed from their throat through their entire body.

Jay wanted to relax, to let death take them. Logically, they knew that was how this was going to end. They couldn’t give the Faceless Men what they wanted. As soon as they discovered that, this torture would end and their execution would begin. But logic didn’t exist in this watery inferno. There was only panic and pain and an instinctive part of Jay calling out to every fiber of their being that they were going to DIE. Their legs tried to kick out in protest. It came out more like a brief spasm. Their head tried to struggle against the grip forcing them down, but Jay wasn’t strong enough. They were already having trouble remembering which way was down anymore.

Just as they heart struggled with its last beat against the all-consuming blackness overwhelming Jay’s eyes, the hand behind them forced up them.

Air! There should be air, right?

“Passcodes!” a voice barked roughly. Jay did not hear it. They were too busy dying on the floor.

Jay collapsed bonelessly with the hand no longer there to hold them up. Their body spasmed wildly. All they knew was that they were vomiting fire.

Water spilled from Jay’s lungs in hacking coughs as their body struggled to breathe again. If Jay could have curled up into themselves, they would have, but they didn’t have the strength. They thought they had known exhaustion before. They were wrong. The adrenaline that flooded their body only moments ago in an instinctual burst immediately spewed out of Jay, leaving him drained and shaking and… was disoriented the word for when Jay didn’t know what was the ceiling and what was the floor and whether there was someone else there.

Suddenly that hand gripped Jay’s throat, cutting off their air again. Jay wanted to cry, to scream, to beg, anything, but couldn’t. They just hung in their torturer’s fist like a puppet with its strings’ cut.

“Passcodes!” the man in the mask demanded.

When Jay didn’t move, he hovered the captive’s face over the bucket.

Jay’s whole body shook uncontrollably. They couldn’t do that again. It was more than just pain. It was dying, the simulation. In that bucket they could kill Jay again and again and still ask him for his mother’s Social Security Number. Hell, they could ask Jay to confess to murder and Jay would do it just to make them stop.

Four, Jay’s logical brain supplied, picking their favorite number in the space between life and death where that logic still mattered. Let me do this four times and then I can break and it’ll be okay. I’ll have held out long enough. I’ll have made my father proud.

Jay didn’t know if they made it to four times.

They didn’t know if it was strength or weakness that surged through them.

They just knew through burning fire and chilling water, hard metal and punishing force they managed to choke out two words: “I can’t.”

“Can’t what? Go another round?” the man with the hand demanded.

“My…hands…” Jay gasped. “Broken…you broke…my hands…”

The man lifted Jay up against and Jay grew desperate.

“Can’t give you…passcodes. Not without…my hands…” They tried to hold up their mangled appendages to prove their point, but that was too much. The hand still had them by their neck. It started dropping them towards the bucket.

No! No no no no, Jay wanted to yell. Then everything went black.

Jay awoke back in their cell. The chair was gone so they huddled mutely against the wall. They were wet to the core, but it didn’t matter.

Faceless Men cycled in and out in an endless spiral, getting Jay’s full story, learning of the final security measure to Morgan Security’s computer system, a measure Jay had programmed himself.

Jay was almost too exhausted to smile as he explained it. The system required Jay to type in his own unique 6-phrase passcode, a passcode that would only be marked correct if the computer detected the exact speed and pressure of Jay’s typing presence, a typing presence that could not be mimicked by man or machine and that Jay would never be capable of making again, not with mangled, broken hands.

Jay could see the Men get desperate. They brought Jay’s office desktop in for testing. Jay didn’t know how they’d gotten it, but supposed it didn’t matter now. They broke Jay’s nose anew, forcing his hands onto the keys, but one look at his crumbled fingers spluttering against the hard plastic convinced them it was useless.

Jay was now useless. He had been useless for weeks when they could have tracked down other leads instead of focusing their might on him.

There was anger.

Jay took their beating in silence, finally able to curl up against the cold metal when they left.

You did it, Jay told themselves. You did what you wanted to do, all that you could do. You were a distraction, a stumbling block, a bug in their code. Hopefully Morgan Security would realize that, would continue to take care of their mother after their death. Hopefully the Faceless Men would never get their hands on what they wanted. Hopefully…

But to be honest, Jay didn’t have very much hope left. They knew their death wouldn’t be painless. They doubted it would be fast. They were struck with a sudden sadness that no one beside their boss would probably ever notice. Jay would just seep out of this world with their only mark on it being a lack of evil, not a creation of anything good.

Was that something to be proud of? Jay didn’t know. So they slept in their cell and waited for the end. If they shed a tear or two, would it have mattered? Jay didn’t know that either, so there’s no use telling you.

Tagging the Broken Pieces Crew: (If you want to be added or taken off this list, just let me know!): @stoic-whumpee, @whatwasmyprevioususername, @whumpty-dumpty-fell-off-the-wall, @straight-to-the-pain, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @0idril0, @fallingstormphoenix, @whump-fantasies, @imagination1reality0, @whumpback-wail

#Whump #Torture #Water Torture #Interrogated #Ready for Death #Broken #Drowned #Beaten #Bloodied #Jay #The Faceless Men #quirkykayleetam writes

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blancheludis · 5 years ago

Link

A/N: @iron-man-bingo, square: Dad!Tony + Sick Kid

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Words: 5.797 Characters: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers, Peter Parker, Pepper Potts Tags: Sick Kid, Single Dad Tony, Getting Together, Sweet Steve, Protective Tony

Summary: When Peter falls sick, single dad Tony is hopelessly overwhelmed. He is told he needs chicken soup. Surely the super hot stranger living next door will have some. And Steve, being an all-around good guy has no idea how to make chicken soup either but delivers nonetheless.

Meanwhile, Peter, even while he can hardly leave his bed, manages to play matchmaker, because clearly his dad does not know how to get any on his own.

---

Peter’s fever is rising. At the same time, Tony’s adrenaline level has never been higher. These two things have nothing to do with each other, of course. Tony knows exactly what he is doing. Not.

The day before, the school had called about Peter not feeling so well. Tony broke several traffic laws on his way there and had a minor panic attack before he could get out of the car, but Peter had greeted him with a weak smile and a hug. Everything had still been fine then.

Now, Peter’s forehead feels like the wrong end of a soldering iron. He has vomited several times, holds his belly like it is going to split open any second now, and has not moved a single toe out of bed unless to go to the bathroom. Where Peter is usually a lively kid, full of energy, he is now listless and deathly pale.

Tony does not know what to do. They have been to the ER and gotten some pills, which helped them through the night, but Tony feels like it is constantly getting worse. It is heart-breaking to see his son in such a state.

At the same time, he remembers all the sneering articles about what a bad father he will be when the press first found out that he has a son and was going to raise him alone. It was not as bad as it could have been, since he is not half as public a figure anymore than he had been in his youth and before he made Pepper his CEO, but it only added to his own reservations about the matter. For the most part, they are doing well. Only now does Tony wish that he had someone to guide him. Jarvis perhaps, or Ana.

There is one person he goes to with all of his problems, trusting her to solve them – and she usually delivers.

Raising slowly from the armchair he has pushed into Peter’s room to better watch over his kid, Tony gets out his phone and walks into the kitchen. After he puts the kettle on the stove to make fresh tea, he dials Pepper’s number. Dutiful as she is, she picks up after the first ring.

“Where are you?” she asks by way of greeting.

A glance at the clock tells Tony that it is past ten in the morning. Instead of not even a day, it feels like he has been wrangling with Peter’s sickness for months.

“Pepper,” he says, ignoring her question, “you’re a woman.”

The silence that hits him is as brief as it is icy. “You had better think very well about how you’re going to end that statement.”

Tony loves Pepper. She is scary and efficient and has put up with him for longer than anybody else except for Rhodey. Usually, he would not pass the chance for a little ribbing between friends, but he has more pressing matters to deal with.

“Peter is sick.” Saying the words has a shiver running down his back as if there is a chance he is going to lure more germs in to wreak havoc in his home. “I have no idea what to do. Surely you know something.”

Admitting this hurts, but Tony is far beyond pride. He always has been where it comes to Peter.

“Because I’m a woman?” Pepper’s voice is openly sceptic, but underneath Tony can hear the same uncertainty that has kept him up all night.

He momentarily forgot that part of what makes Pepper so scarily efficient is that she lives for her job. Neither of them has actually seen themselves having a family of their own in the future.

“Come on,” Tony begs. “I’ll buy you a hundred shoes if you stop twisting my words around and help me.”

She is his only chance. Rhodey might know more, considering that he has a number of younger sisters, but he is on some mission and they have not talked in a while. Tony could probably get a call through, but Rhodey does not like it when Tony so blatantly breaks the rules. If there is no other way, he will do it without hesitation, though.

“I’m not a mother, Tony,” Pepper says slowly, sounding as if she is physically distancing herself from that possibility. “I don’t know what to do with sick children. Have you been to the doctor?”

Tony is too exhausted to roll his eyes, but it might be better that way. Somehow, Pepper always hears when he is getting cheeky, even when she has no way of seeing what he does.

“Of course,” he says shortly. “They gave me something for the fever and cough syrup.” Peter had even taken the syrup without complaint, which has only made Tony’s worry worse. If it still tastes the way he remembers, it is vile. “But – Pepper.”

She makes a small noise at the back of her throat that might have made Tony laugh at any other time. Never before has she sounded out of depth. He would have even thought it impossible.

“I don’t – have you tried chicken soup?” she asks, clearly grasping for straws.

“Chicken soup?” Tony repeats aghast. “What’s that supposed to do? He’s really sick.”

Actually, the doctor had said something about the common cold, but they have clearly misinterpreted the situation, considering the state Peter is in. There is nothing common about his child lying listlessly in bed, slowly burning up.

“I don’t know.” Pepper’s voice is higher than it is supposed to be, but Tony blames it on the reception. Otherwise, he might have to admit that she does not have any idea what to do either. That is something that has never happened before. “I remember getting chicken soup as a child and I survived. You can always try.”

Trying does not seem enough when it comes to Peter, but Tony does not actually see any other options. “I think I will.” At the very least, it gives him something to do other than watching Peter sleep.

“Good,” Pepper exhales audibly. In a far more composed voice she continues, “I expect you’re not coming to the office for the next days?”

Business is something safe to stick to, Tony can appreciate that. At the same time, he thinks Pepper must have clearly missed the direness of his situation. “My kid is sick,” he says slowly

“He’ll get better,” she offers with more confidence than Tony imagines she feels. “Call when you need anything else.”

He will, he always does.

Belatedly, Tony asks, “Where do I get chicken soup?” but Pepper has already hung up. Since Tony does want to admit how very bad he is at this whole father thing, he does not call her back about something that likely ever other person in this city knows.

Putting the phone down on the kitchen counter, Tony turns to their fridge, opening it despite being peripherally aware of what is in there and knowing for a fact they have never owned chicken soup in the whole time they have been living here, perhaps ever.

Restless, Tony wanders back to Peter’s room, only to find him still asleep. Putting a gentle hand on the small forehead, Tony finds it still hot and sweaty. Muttering something, Peter pushes against the touch, then settles back into the cushions. It leaves Tony restless.

Walking to the kitchen again, he picks up his phone to search for chicken soup recipes, despite knowing he is not going to attempt it. He cannot go out to buy groceries and leave Peter alone, and even if he had the ingredients delivered, he does not want to accidentally poison his son with a bodged first attempt.

Just when he is wondering whether he could order one of his employees to bring him soup – there are so many, one of them has to know how to do this correctly – when he has the idea of asking his neighbours.

It is the middle of the day, which might turn out to be a problem. Tony still throws a short look at the mirror in the hallway to make sure he is more or less presentable – it is definitely less, considering that his hair sticks up in several directions and he has bags under his eyes, not to speak of the wrinkled state of his clothes, which might still be the same ones he wore to the office the day before – and ventures out of their apartment. He leaves their door open in case Peter wakes up and calls for him, even though he does not plan on staying out for long.

He tries the two apartments one floor down first because he knows two couples live there, one of which has a child on their way

Tony leaves the other door on their floor for last. He knows who is living there, and whether he will be successful in his quest or not, he has hoped to make a better first impression with the inhabitant than to come knocking in a frenzy and ask for chicken soup of all things.

He is surprised when the door opens. Through all of Tony’s completely coincidental observing, he knows that the man living here has an erratic schedule. He goes on a run every morning but that is where all regularity ends. Tony does not do well with schedules either, of course, although he has gotten a lot better since getting a child.

Then he has no more time to think, because the door is fully open and light floods the hallway. Steve Rogers – whose name Tony totally only just read on the nameplate and did not know beforehand through a minor case of stalking – looks gorgeous. He is wearing a horribly outdated plaid shirt but still manages to make it look good thanks to his unapologetic mass of muscles. It sports what looks like paint stains, splattered dots and streaks of all colours that also cover his skin. Tony fights the urge to reach out and test whether they are still fresh.

This is not the time for indulging his secret crush, though. He is on a mission and it is a vital one.

“Hey, I’m Tony. Your neighbour. Which you probably know, because we’ve been sharing the floor for a while, and you seem like the type to notice that,” Tony says, or rambles, really.

It makes him wonder how he ever manages to string two complete sentences together during business meetings. Then again, he does not want to sleep with most of his business partners – not that he necessarily wants to sleep with Steve, he is just very nice to look at and Tony has done a lot of looking when Steve comes home sweaty after his morning runs.

“I need –” he stops, tries again, “Do you have chicken soup?”

Steve stares at Tony. It is not the kind of aghast or disgusted stare he might have for something dead in the street he accidentally stepped in. It is more flabbergasted, overwhelmed. Tony knows he can have that effect, but he is usually in an expensive three-piece suit and sunglasses when he does, dialling the Stark charm up to ten.

“I – don’t think so,” Steve says slowly, still not looking away from Tony. His lips are slightly tipped upwards, though, and he has not yet backed away, so Tony counts that as a good sign. “Do you want to come in while I have a look?”

Before Tony can realize that his gorgeous neighbour has just invited him into his apartment, he clicks his tongue. “You should know whether you have chicken soup. That’s like an essential part of every household, right?”

Tony bites the inside of his cheek. Hard. At some point, he is really going to have to learn some manners. And to think before he speaks. Running a hand through his hair, he blinks up at Steve apologetically.

“Sorry, that was rude,” he tries again. “I’d love to come in. I mean, who wouldn’t? But I can’t. I need to go back. Peter has a thing with feeling abandoned. Especially when he’s not feeling well.” Pointing at the other door on their floor, he adds, “We’re in 4A. Come knocking if you find any soup.”

This time, he is telling the complete truth, almost too much of it to feel comfortable. Peter is afraid of being left behind, though, ever since his mother died and he was left with just his overwhelmed father. They are doing well, most of the time, and Tony does not miss the overnight stays he used to do so often for business meetings, but it is still hard to swallow that Peter, at his young age, is already afraid of something that cannot be explained away as one might monsters under the bed.

Tony shrugs helplessly and is already turning around, when Steve asks, “Who’s Peter?”

Normally, Tony loves talking about Peter. He is as proud a father as possible. Right now, getting back to his kid is more important.

“Currently a pint-sized bundle of germs and vomit,” Tony explains shortly. “I’d lie and say he’s normally cute, but he’s a menace. Must have gotten that from me.”

Steve regards him with a smile that is as bright as it is gentle. “I’ll bring the soup,” he promises, and Tony is not going to argue that Steve seemed rather convinced he does not have any soup just moments ago. He will take what he can get.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Tony says and hurries back home.

For the next hours, they hear nothing from Steve Rogers, and Tony does his best to push down the heartbreak of having trusted his crush and having been disappointed by him. Peter is awake by now, and every cough of his brings Tony closer to just order some soup from the nearest Thai restaurant. Surely that will count too.

They are playing a very slow round of cards on Peter’s bed, interrupted by Tony trying to coax Peter into drinking more tea and taking more cough syrup, when the doorbell rings.

Tony frowns in the direction of the hallway, then glances back at his cards. It is not going to be Steve – nobody needs hours to look through their fridge for soup – and he does not want to deal with anybody else. Everyone important has a key anyway.

He plays his next card but looks up when Peter does not do the same.

“Don’t you want to get that?” Peter asks, gesturing to the door.

In the face of that question, Tony does not want to admit his reluctance to go. Appearing too worried about Peter will not do. Parents, or so he guesses, should appear confident about what they are doing.

“Will you be all right?” Tony asks nonetheless.

He is glad to see Peter roll his eyes. That hopefully means he is not getting worse. “You’re just going to the door, Dad.”

Tony nods and gets to his feet. “All right, I’ll be back in a minute.” He makes a show of putting his cards face-down on the bedsheet. “And don’t you cheat, I’m already going easy on you.”

Peter’s hand, that has already been inching closer to Tony’s cards, stills. “You’re not going easy on me. You’re just bad at cards.”

With a gasp, Tony raises his hand to his chest, clutching his rumpled shirt. “How can you say that? My own flesh and blood.”

He is rewarded with a tiny smile, and treasures it above everything else.

On his way to the door, Tony tries to smooth down his clothes and hair, but guesses he is just making things worse. The next time Peter sleeps, he should probably take a shower and change into something more suitable for lounging around at home, waiting for a catastrophe to hit.

When he opens the door, Tony is rewarded by a second look at Steve Rogers from close up. He is wearing clean clothes now, no paint splatters in sight, but which also seem a size too small. Perhaps it is his aesthetic, and Tony is definitely not going to protest it.

“Sorry for taking so long,” Steve greets him, looking somewhat sheepish as he holds out his hands to offer a pot to Tony.

“That smells heavenly. Did you – wait.” With some delay, Tony notices that pot only fits in the most generic of senses. The thing is a dented monstrosity of fading colours and nauseating patterns. “How old are you? Why do you own such garishly coloured pots? With flowers?”

Distantly, Tony thinks he should be wondering more about the fact that Steve is here with an actual pot instead of some jar or plastic bag. Even at the first glance, there is more effort involved than Tony wanted Steve to make. This does not look like he found any chicken soup in his fridge after all, but actually went out to get it.

“It’s not mine,” Steve says, a small grin playing on his lips as he regards the pot in his hands. “My friend’s grandmother lives around the corner. She whipped something up for you.”

Tony is unable to do anything but stare, not sure whether he has understood Steve correctly. “Are you telling me this is real, handmade chicken soup? And that you went to a real grandmother to get it?” He has no idea how much work goes into making this soup but it is probably too much for a random stranger manically knocking at one’s door. “Wait,” he then says, not yet reaching for the pot, “you’re not one of those crazy serial killers who lie their way into honest people’s home by bringing them poisoned soup, right?”

Steve’s laugh hits him by surprise. It is a melodic sound that Tony would not mind hearing every day.

“I’d say I’m not,” Steve says, followed by a one-armed shrug. “Things might look differently if I had actually tried to cook this soup on my own.”

That is understandable but does not explain anything. Tony lets his eyes wander from the pot up the very nice arms that are holding it to Steve’s earnest face waiting for an answer.

“Then why?” Tony questions, wondering why he does not take the soup and make sure to be more eloquent when he goes to bring the pot back to Steve, possibly with a good wine and aspirations to turn it into a date. However, all thoughts of romance are sucked out of him by the sick child waiting for him inside the apartment.

Steve smiles. “You looked desperate.” He shows no strain from continually holding the pot.

Under different circumstances, Tony might have protested that statement. He is far beyond holding on to his pride, though. “I am desperate,” he says with surprising vehemence and finally takes the pot out of Steve’s hand and balances on his hip. “Peter’s always been healthy. I have no idea what to do.”

It is cathartic to say that, even to a stranger, but Tony still hopes Peter is not listening in on them from his bedroom. That would defy the whole ‘parents know best’ paradigm they are still sticking to.

A small frown creases Steve’s forehead as he looks at where Tony’s hands cradle the pot before they travel up and find his face. “This might be a tad forward, since we don’t know each other –”

“I kinda know you,” Tony interrupts, afraid of what Steve is going to say. “I ogle you each morning when you go on your run.” He bites his cheek again. What is it with him and running his mouth in front of people he finds attractive? “This – is not appropriate to say to strangers. I’m so sorry. I haven’t slept in three days. At least.”

Because before Peter fell sick, Tony had busied himself with a project, forgetting all about the basic needs his very human body has. That has gotten much better over the past years, but old habits die hard.

To both their surprise, Steve chuckles. “It’s all right.” Tony feels like he needs to propose on the spot. “What I was saying, I could help? I mean, I don’t have children, but I’ve been sick pretty much my entire childhood, so I might just know enough to make things a bit easier on you.”

Everything in Tony wants to say yes. Well, everything but the small part of his brain dedicated to common sense. He has a sick child inside. Even though Steve says he wants to help, Tony would be agreeing because he has an embarrassingly giant crush on his neighbour, not because of his supposed expertise in surviving childhood sicknesses.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Tony says, trying to refuse subtly.

“You didn’t ask,” Steve protests softly, “I offered.”

That is just unfair. Tony does not do well with temptation. Still, he inclines his head apologetically. “Peter does not do well with strangers.”

“Tony,” Steve says, his smile never dropping. “Just say no. I’ll leave you my number.” With complete nonchalance, Steve pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket with his number on it in a loopy scrawl. He definitely came prepared, which has Tony feeling less like he has just messed up his chances. “Write if you need more soup. Or anything else.”

Tony is still dazed from the recent developments when he makes his way to Peter’s room with a bowl full of steaming soup. He cannot imagine how he managed to not send Steve running immediately. The small paper with Steve’s number on it is already safely tucked away on Tony’s desk, and he has, naturally, already saved it in his phone. He will not risk losing it.

Peter is sitting up in his bed, Tony’s cards lying apparently untouched in front of him. Tony does not trust him one bit. Either way, he puts the bowl down carefully on the nightstand and presses the spoon into Peter’s hand without question.

“I don’t want soup,” Peter says, eyeing the bowl with trepidation. The nausea has passed at some point during the night, but the memory of throwing up is still very present.

“Shush, kiddo,” Tony says brightly as he lowers himself back onto the bed. “An actual angel brought this. Blonde, tall, gorgeous.”

Immediately, Peter’s eyes narrow at him. It might be a flaw of character, but Tony has never hidden the fact that it is okay to fancy people, even though he does not bring strangers home with him, of course. He barely has any opportunities for this anyway, since he has become rather conservative since he has taken to being a father.

“Are you talking about our neighbour?” Peter asks with a small grin but also open incredulity. The disbelief might not be that displaced, since Tony has been watching Steve for a while now and has never done anything about it.

“It sounds like you’re pulling through if you can already sass your old man again,” Tony chides gently. He makes no secret out of the relief he feels at seeing some liveliness returning into his son’s features.

Not very subtly, Peter puts the spoon down on his blanket. “You should just ask him out.”

Even while he is thinking of Steve’s number waiting in his phone, Tony still says, “I might have ruined my chances today.” He had been terribly rude, a frantic mess. No one could find that attractive. It is likely that Steve really only left his number in case Tony needs help with Peter after all. He seems like the kind of person who would be nice like that.

“You know what they teach us in school?” Peter asks with as much dryness as an eight-year-old can muster. “Words help.”

Despite himself, a short bout of laughter passes over his lips, before he schools his expression into something appropriately serious.

“Careful, young man. Now eat.” As an afterthought, he adds, “If you eat all of this, I can ask Steve to get us more.”

That said, he should probably eat some himself, just to make sure he does not get sick himself. That is a completely sensible precaution and has nothing to do with emptying the pot more quickly.

And Peter, bless this beautiful child, looks at the soup with disdain but picks up the spoon and dutifully eats the whole bowl, even though he falls back against his pillow afterwards, already half asleep again after this effort.

“Try to sleep, yes?” Tony says afterwards, gathering up their cards so that Peter can lie down completely again. “I’ll be here whenever you need me. Just call.”

Smiling, Peter glances up at him. “I know, Dad. Don’t throw the rest of the soup away so you can bother Mr. Neighbour again. I’ll eat it.”

Tony wonders whether he is this transparent. It is more likely that Peter simply knows him by now. “You’ll be one hell of a heartbreaker one day,” Tony sighs, thinking that this should not feel as much like an accomplishment as it does. “You already play the game well.”

Shrugging against the cushions, Peter blinks up at Tony with utter innocence. The effect is somewhat marred by his eyes dropping closed every couple of seconds. “If the soup helps, I can get out of the bed and just tell neighbour Steve that you like him. Otherwise you’ll never get a date.”

“Excuse you? I’ll have you know –” Tony trails off, face softening as he looks down at his son, already fast asleep.

His own eyes feel heavy, exhaustion pulling at his very bones. He has never planned on being a father and it is sometimes grinding him down. Looking at the real miracle Peter is, though, he would not change this for anything.

Smiling, Tony goes to the kitchen to wash out Peter’s bowl. His phone is sitting innocently on the table but calling out to Tony with a might he cannot resists, even if he had wanted to.

Turning on the coffee machine, Tony pulls up Steve’s brand new contact details and writes him a message.

Thank you for the soup. Peter ate it all and is now asleep.

It feels insufficient, somehow, but Tony has been overwhelming enough for one day already.

Barely a minute later, his phone chimes with Steve’s answer. You’re welcome.

Nothing more. Tony tells himself he is not disappointed by that. He is the one who rejected Steve’s kind offer to help, after all. If everything else fails, he might have to send Peter to get things running again, after all.

The next day, around noon, the doorbell rings again. Peter is doing much better and they have both gotten a full night’s sleep, which has gone a long way to make them feel human again. Peter has even ventured out of his room to lie on the couch, where they are currently watching Lion King – which Tony will never admit he knows all the lyrics for.

Disentangling from his blanket, Tony gets up to open the door. Later, he will deny having hoped it would be Steve, but when he comes face to face with their neighbour again, he cannot help the smile spreading on his face.

“Steve,” he greets, wondering whether he should tone down the enthusiasm. Hakuna matata is running in the background, though, and Tony is not going to dismiss advice from Disney.

“Hey. I don’t want to disturb,” Steve says as if that is a real possibility. “How’s Peter doing?”

“Much better,” Tony exclaims, and there is no exaggerating the relief he feels. “Thank you again.”

Right now, Tony is convinced that it is only thanks to their interaction yesterday that Tony had the energy to keep his sanity intact instead of doing something utterly crazy like going back to the hospital and threaten to purchase it so he can fire everybody who tells him that Peter has a simple cold and just needs to rest. Pepper often tells him he tends to overreact when it comes to people he cares for, and there is no one more important in his life than Peter.

“No problem,” Steve replies simply. His smile turns sympathetic. “I remember this well.”

Tony does not know what to say to that, so they stand awkwardly across from each other. This is the point where he should get the pot to hand it back over and leave Steve be. Being too much of a bother never ends well. Yet, he never seems able to stop.

“I – would you – I mean –”

“He wants to go on a date with you.”

Peter appears out of nowhere, pushing Tony slightly to the side so he can fit into the doorway too. He is wearing Spider-Man pyjamas and has a blanket slung around his shoulders. For all that he has been close to falling asleep only moments before when they were still on the couch, he looks very awake right now, and very interested. He stares up at Steve, at once critical and smiling. Tony has to swallow the urge to reach down and put his hands over Peter’s mouth.

“Peter,” Tony warns. At Steve, he adds, “Ignore him. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. Fever dreams, you know.”

Apart from raising his eyebrow, Steve does not respond. Instead, he leans down a bit and offers a hand for Peter to shake, which Peter accepts with newfound energy.

“Hello, young man. I’m Steve,” he greets seriously, as if he is constantly being accosted by noisy kids.

“I know,” Peter says with a smile too knowing to belong on such a young face.

Tony knows what is coming. Something along the lines of my dad never shuts up about you, and he has to keep that from happening. “Don’t be rude,” he says firmly and puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

Craning his neck to look up, Peter frowns. “You weren’t going to ask him. Again.”

Acutely aware of Steve watching them, Tony shakes his head minutely, inwardly begging his son to stop. “And that’s my decision to make.”

“You’re afraid,” Peter exclaims, the first signs of irritation showing in his tone.

That is enough, Tony decides, and pushes Peter back into their apartment, allowing him not to struggle.

“Get back to the living room,” he says firmly. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Because Peter is unmistakeably Tony’s son, he does not leave without getting a last comment in. “Take two. You need to agree on a restaurant after all.”

Unable to meet Steve’s eyes so soon, Tony watches Peter walk back into the apartment, more of a spring in his step than he had in days. That is making Tony happy of course, but he still cannot shake the embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters and runs a hand through his hair before he can stop himself.

“What for?” Steve asks, honestly curious. “He’s delightful.” Just like that, he proves again that he is a thoroughly good human being who does not only bring strangers soup but also lets Tony hit on him via Peter without getting annoyed.

“That’s not a word anyone should ever use for a kid,” Tony replies dryly. “Especially not one with a running nose and a big mouth.”

He cannot quite hide the fondness in his voice, and when he finally looks back up at Steve, they share a smile.

Then Steve shifts his position and looks slightly awkward. “Well, is it true?”

There is only one thing he could be asking about, but Tony does not dare to think about that. “Is what true?” he asks back, trying for innocence.

Something in his tone or face seems to bolster Steve, because he stands a little straighter and does not look away from Tony. “That you want to ask me out on a date.”

Tony bites his lip to keep himself from yelling yes. Instead, he concentrates on a point past Steve’s shoulder and tries to force the blood rushing into his cheeks to return where it belongs.

“I – I’m truly sorry,” Tony says. He is going to ground Peter forever if he has just messed up Tony’s chances even more – at least after they have moved somewhere else, preferably another state to minimize the danger of ever running into Steve again. “I’m afraid I’m not a good role model when it comes to social norms and –”

“Yes,” Steve cuts him off simply, causing Tony to splutter.

He is aware that his behaviour is not always suitable for polite company, but people usually do not call him out on it like this, do not simply agree with him.

“What?” he asks dumbly.

And Steve, in a show of eternal patience, smiles. “If you meant to ask, I’m saying yes.”

Even Tony’s constantly racing and slightly self-sabotaging mind does not find a way to somehow twist these words into meaning something other than Steve agreeing to go out with Tony. Even after close scrutiny, he does not even see any pity on Steve’s face. It is hardly believable, but Steve appears to be serious.

“You – do?” Tony asks nonetheless, unwilling to run headfirst into a trap.

Steve nods, his smile growing wider. “The two minutes are up,” he then says, obvious humour in his tone. “How about next Tuesday? We’ll text later, so you can tell me whether you’ll find a babysitter.”

Mind a mess of conflicted emotions, Tony still realizes that Steve has immediately thought of Peter and that he cannot be left alone an entire evening – which has Tony’s thoughts drifting off to wonder just how long Steve might want their dinner to take.

“I – yes,” Tony exclaims quickly before he lose himself in speculations and forgets all about reality. “Yes. That would be great.”

“Perfect,” Steve says. “And tell me if you need more soup.”

“Will do.”

Only when Steve has already disappeared back into his own apartment does Tony remember the pot sitting freshly cleaned on his kitchen table. Well, that gives him an excuse to visit Steve again later.

Feeling the urge to whistle, Tony closes the door and walks back to the living room. He is going to have a long talk with Peter about appropriate topic of conversation. But perhaps after that date with Steve – a date – depending on how it works out. First, he is going to get them two bowls of ice cream – that is supposed to help with sore throats – to go along with the rest of Lion King.

Then, as soon as Peter is asleep, he is going to make sure that Darcy will be available to watch Peter on Tuesday, even if he has to pay her double. He is not going to miss this chance.

#iron man bingo 3000 #marvel #dad tony #sick fic #stony #getting together #protective steve rogers #precious peter parker #ao3 #my writing

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thisisbroganeveobrien · 5 years ago

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Kingsman: Secrets Part 1

Summary: A simple mission sparks feelings between you and Eggsy that you had tried to ignore, after all the mission comes first. Right?

Pairing: Eggsy x Reader

A/N: My first Kingsman fic, I hope you enjoy.

Turned into a 3 parte.

"I'm gonna wipe that smug smile off your face Unwin"

"I'd like to see you try" Eggsy grin only grew wider.

You rolled your eyes and turned away from Eggys and towards the mirror.

You and Eggsy were going in undercover at some fancy aristocrats party, objective find a way into the baddies office to collect the confidential codes. Simple.

"You look beautiful" You turned away from the mirror not wanting Eggsy to catch your smile in its reflection. You had opted for a simple little black dress hugging your curves in all the right places it had spaghetti straps and a low neckline with a small slit on the side of your thigh, you paired this with a pair of high strappy heels. Your hair hung in loose curls framing your face.

"You scrub up pretty good yourself" Eggys gave one of his signature lopsided smiles followed by a wink.

Ever since Merlin had told you about your mission Eggsy had had that same smug smirk and had been continuously teasing, it was the same most missions you worked on together.

"I'm almost as tall as you now" you smiled slowly walking over to Eggsy sizing him up.

Both your phones buzzed and you part.

"Cabs outside, shall we" You linked arms with Eggsy and make your way out of your hotel room.

This was going to be a long night.

You could hear the hum of the music as you approached the building with a few other attendants.You both picked up a glass of champagne at the door and made your way inside.

"Stay close" Eggsy leaned close and whispered into your war. He slipped his hand around your waist and pulled you close.

You both made your way through the crowd and towards the bar having both finished your small glass of complimentary champagne. You mingled with the crowed making small talk with a few of the attendants, staying close to one another. Eggsy hardly took his hands off you really, let alone his eyes.

All the time the both of you scanned the crowed for the host. You had both seen the layout of the mansion and the office you needed to gain access to was on the lower level, the doors you assumed to be guarded, although not too heavily. Merlin confirmed this by hacking into the security camera. There were two men occasionally joined by a third. The door to the office was down a small corridor on the opposite side of the dance floor.

"That's him" you whispered turning to look at Eggsy, he kept his hand wrapped around your waist as he eyed the target keeping your body's close.

"Wanna loosen that grip" you smiled before taking the drink Eggsy held in his hand and taking a sip.

"Not really" Eggsy smiled back

"If you don't I won't be able to distract the target" You turned more into Eggsy hold wrapping your free arm around his neck before finishing Eggsy drink.

"Get close enough to get the key card but be careful" You nod and stepped back handing Eggsy his empty glass, making your way towards the target.

Aaman Kaya was the name of your host, the man you now walked towards.

He was a suspected high end arms dealer in his early 30s a handsome man all things considered his hair curled on top of this head falling forward a bold grey streak running through it, it would be easy to flirt with him you thought.

It had been easy to get yourselves on the guest list curtsy of Merlin. Though Merlin had said even Eggsy could have gotten us on it, it was that easy. Aaman was a showman it was clear from this party and from the background research you'd done. Confident, loves the limelight, cocky.

You caught his eye and smiled shyly walking past him and standing at the end of the bar.

"You walked right past him" Eggsy spoke through the ear piece.

"It's called playing hard to get" I whispered back looking down the bar my back to both men.

"Is that what you call it" Eggsy replied

"Watch and learn" you say a small smile forming.

"Can I get you a drink miss" You turn to see Amman standing beside you.

"Sure" You smile seductively

"Unbelievable" Eggsy huffs

"What's your poison sweetheart" Aaman asks raising a hand instantly catching the attention of the bar staff.

"I'll take a whisky, neat"

"You heard the lady" Aaman ordered, he moved closer leaning on the bar clearly checking you out.

Your drink was placed on the bar as you reached over to take it you could feel his eyes wander.

"Dirty git" Eggsy grumbled

You were playing the part fully aware of where the man eyes would fall so was Eggsy.

You took a long slow drink of your whisky savouring the flavour, it was good whiskey. As you finished you liked your lips.

"Have we met before?" Aaman asked in a lame attempt to start a conversation.

You knew talking wasn't of interest to a man like him.

"You wanna dance?" You offered biting the corner of your lip.

He didn't respond instead simply taking you hand and quickly leading you to the dance floor.

He was even quicker at getting his hands on you. You rested yours on his chest while his roamed a little lower.

"Easy tiger" you hum pulling his hands back up to your waist. You could see he was slightly annoyed by this. You ran you hands over his chest feeling for the key card. Bingo.

"Come on baby" Aaman leaned down whispering into your ear, you could smell the alcohol on his breath, his hands finding their way down your body again. This time he squeezed.

You pushed him back in defence. Fuck.

You could see a look of anger cross his face, clearly not used to this kind of treatment. You needed to get close to him again just long enough to slip the key card out of his pocket, you cursed yourself for pushing him back.

Just as you were thinking this Aaman grabbed the back of your neck pulling you towards him inches away from his face a small smile pulling the corners of his month. You spotted Eggsy over his shoulder moving in, you shot his a glare to keep his distance.

"I could have anyone in this room" he spat

Just a few more seconds.

"Your nothing special" he hissed again clearly annoyed at my lack or response.

"Thanks for the drink" you smiled coolly you pushed back with more force this time catching him off guard the stumbled back a little, a few eyes were drawn. He glared at you as the stormed off into the crown.

Eggsy was by your side now.

"Miss me" you smiled letting him know you were just fine after that encounter.

"I was this close to stepping in" Eggsy began

"If you had we wouldn't have this" you turned to face Eggsy and opened his blazer slipping the car card into his jacket lining pocket.

"Nice work" He nodded

Now all we had to do was make our way across the dance floor down the corridor and to the gaurded stairs and slip in and out of the office with the evidence before Aaman noticed his missing key card. You were on the clock.

"Wanna dance?"

"Thought you'd never ask" you took Eggsy hand and made your way onto the dance floor.

You moved slowly to the sound of the music making your way across the dance floor. Eggsy hands stayed on your hips. The longer you danced the closer your bodies became you looked up at Eggsy through your lashes his face inches from your own, you smiled shyly and could see Eggsy do the same.

What was happening? Eggsy grip on you tightened, you wanted to move closer pulling Eggsy towards your bodies moving as one. Eggsy forehead came to rested on your own, both your smiles had faded. Eggsy nose bushed yours and you lifted your chin, your lips hovered over one and others, Eggsy blushed your bottom lip with his and you froze.

"Galihad, Percivel the guards are exchanging now would be your chance" Merlin voice broke the spell.

You broke apart. Somehow you had made your way across the floor, Merlin was right the door was unguarded, you headed towards the corridor Eggsy peered around the corner before signaling.

"Clear"

You walked side by side down the corridor quick paced.

#eggsy unwin #eggsy x reader #eggsy x oc #Kingsman #fanfiction #kingsmen secret service #fanfic #kingsman secret service

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smthngsafootatthecirclek · 5 years ago

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Say You Won’t Let Go

Peter Parker

Requested? Still movin’ mate

Warnings? Character death multiple times mentioned, it’s overall just a really sad story

A/N: I might repost this at a later time and it will be edited because i might want to edit it later. Have fun crying with me at the end of this one!

~~~

She cried and cried and cried. Practically cried herself to sleep, but how could she sleep in such an unfamiliar place. With all the things flooding her mind, she wouldn't sleep. She couldn't. The fresh images of the bodies on the kitchen floor. Her parents, dead. She had to run, escape and that's exactly what she did.

Run.

I met you in the dark, you lit me up

You made me feel as though I was enough

We danced the night away, we drank too much

I held your hair back when

You were throwing up

The sound of soft sobbing attracted Peter's attention. While on his nightly patrol, he had come across an alley with the sound coming from it when he found a girl about his age. As he approached her, she shrunk away from him like a cornered animal.

"Don't be afraid... It's me, Spider-Man.." He spoke softly.

"Please... Please don't take me back..." Tears streaked her cheeks and Peter recognized her. She was a girl in a few of his classes. Soft brown hair, Stoney-blue eyes, freckled cheeks.

"...where..?"

"Home."

Peter felt his heart break. Was she being abused? Was that why she seemed to be hiding?

The sound of people talking as they walked by the alley startled her and Peter offered to take her up to the roof.

"There won't be anyone up there..."

She nodded and he gingerly wrapped an arm around her waist, sling his web up to the top of the building. Another sob caught in her throat and her wall crumbled once more. Peter didn't want to think she'd be the suicidal type, but he kept an eye on her just to make sure. He gave her space, allowing her to sob her heart out.

Then you smiled over your shoulder

For a minute, I was stone-cold sober

It had been what felt like hours before she eventually calmed and stopped crying. However, when she looked up, she couldn't find Spider-Man. She glanced over her shoulder to see him standing facing away from her. He had taken his mask off and she could see curly brown hair in the faint moonlight. A small smile crossed her lips and she turned to face his distant figure.

"My name is Clara..."

Her voice made him jump slightly and he turned around without thinking. That was when he realized he never put his mask back on.

"P-Parker...?" She couldn't believe it, how was the shy, dorky boy in her class Spider-Man?

He looked panicked he rushed towards her, "You can't tell anyone, please, it might put you in danger..."

Clara's face fell, "I'm already in danger..."

When Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, she continued: "My family was murdered a few hours ago and the murder is probably after me now..." She began to tremble, tears pooling her eyes once more and Peter quickly embraced her.

"Shhh, it's alright... It's gonna be alright... you can stay with me if you need...." He whispered, rubbing her back softly.

I pulled you closer to my chest

And you asked me to stay over

"I-.... Thank you, Peter..."

"Hold on tight."

And off into the night, he swung, making his way back to the apartment where he could pop in through the window.

As they climbed through the window, Clara stumbled slightly and he caught her. It was her first time being at a boy's house and it was without her parent's consent. But they were... Gone and this boy might as well be saving her life.

I said, I already told ya

I think that you should get some rest

"You can take the top bunk," Peter looked over and saw Clara sitting down on the bottom bunk, pulling her knees up to her chest.

He sat next to her and pulled her into a hug, "I'm sorry. There's nothing I can say to make you feel better... But I'm here for you..."

{Time skipety}

The murder of Clara's parents had been solved and May allowed her to stay as long she needed. During that time she and Peter grew close.

I knew I loved you then

But you'd never know

'Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go

"Clara!" Peter called out and she poked her head out of their bedroom.

"Yeah?"

"You left your breakfast in the microwave..." Peter snickered, "You planning on eating it or-"

"Yes I'm gonna eat it! Give me a moment!"

Peter chuckled

I know I needed you

But I never showed

But I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old

Aunt May waltzed into the kitchen, a soft tune stuck in her head, "why don't you take the girl her food, she's working really hard lately, Pete..."

She patted Peter on the back and announced that she was going out with some friends for bingo.

Just say you won't let go

"I'll be right out 'Petey'!" Clara teased and Peter heard a frustrated sigh.

Just say you won't let go

She slammed her book shut, typing out another sentence of the essay and tire tiredly leaned back against the bed frame from where she sat on the floor.

I'll wake you up with some breakfast in bed

I'll bring you coffee with a kiss on your head

Peter placed the food from the microwave onto a plate with some cappuccino. It was a good thing he could balance stuff easily or else he might've dropped the stuff on his way to the bedroom. He pushed open the door with his foot and set the plates down on the lower bunk.

"Take a break..." He held his hand out to help her up.

"But I need to finish this essay, Pete-"

"Take. A. Break. Clara." He demanded and took the laptop from her, "I saved the paper, now eat."

"Fiiiine..."

And I'll take the kids to school

Wave them goodbye

And I'll thank my lucky stars for that night

She took his hand stood up, stretching slightly before taking a seat on Peter's bunk.

"Cappuccino?? Where did you find this?!" Clara's face lit up.

"In the cupboard..." He laughed. It was a pleasant surprise to see her happy.

When you looked over your shoulder

For a minute, I forget that I'm older

I wanna dance with you right now

Oh, and you look as beautiful as ever

Clara looked up at Peter, almost as if praising him.

"Sometimes I wonder how my life would've turned out if you hadn't found me that day...." She whispered with a smile.

And I swear that every day'll get better

You make me feel this way somehow

I'm so in love with you

And I hope you know

Darling your love is more than worth its weight in gold

Peter's stomach fluttered at her words. He was so horribly in love with this girl. Yet she would probably never know and he didn't want to ruin their beautiful friendship.

We've come so far my dear

Look how we've grown

And I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old

{Time skip}

"PETER!!" She screamed, fear creeping into her voice, "HELP ME!!"

The man held her at the top of the roof, threatening her with the gun against her head.

"Clara!" Peter stumbled on to the roof of the building, his spider-suit scratched and cut along his torso.

"Don't come any closer, Spider-boy!" The man edged closer to the ledge, the gun pressing against Clara's temple harder.

"Let her go!" Peter yelled, extending one arm slowly.

Just say you won't let go

"nO" The man snarled and Peter's webbing flew to the gun, snatching it fron the criminal's hand. But just then, he pushed Clara away. Off the edge of the building.

Falling.

Down.

Do-

"CLARA!!" Peter practically screamed and shot webbing down to catch her

Just say you won't let go

I wanna live with you

Even when we're ghosts

'Cause you were always there for me when I needed you most

Her body crashed through an awning, right as the webbing began to catch her but it was too late.

I'm gonna love you till

My lungs give out

Peter web-slinged his way down quicker than he'd ever done and threw off his mask, not caring that he was exposing his identity. She was dying.

"P-Pe-Peter..." She wheezed out, eyes half-lidded full of tears, "I-"

"Shhh, no. Clara, don't we'll get you to the hospital and you'll be alright..." Tears were now streaming down Peter's pale face.

Sirens could be heard drawing closer, but not fast enough.

"I-I love you.... Peter...." A few tears rolled down her cheeks and she was able to reach up to caress his cheek, "I love you more than anything..."

I promise till death we part like in our vows

"I love you. Please... Don't let go..." He whispered, leaning gently into her hand, but as the ambulance pulled up, her hand fell, "Clara...? Clara...?! Clara?!!"

So I wrote this song for you, now everybody knows

The paramedics pulled Peter away from her body and loaded her into the ambulance to get to the hospital. He made an attempt to go after them, but two strong metal arms held him back.

"Pete... Kid... You need to stay calm, Pete" Tony hushed him and Peter just about collapsed in the Suit's arms.

"Are you even here...?" Peter sobbed and finally was able to pull away when Tony stepped out of the suit.

"C'mere, Pete" He opened his arms for the Spiderling and Peter buried his head in the older male's chest, gladly accepting the hug.

Finally it's just you and me till we're grey and old

Peter sat in one of the lounges of the Avengers Tower, grasping the mug he held tightly.

Just say you won't let go

"My family was murdered a few hours ago and the murder is probably after me now..." She began to tremble, tears pooling her eyes once more and Peter quickly embraced her.

A tear rolled down Peter's cheek.

Just say you won't let go

"Sometimes I wonder how my life would've turned out if you hadn't found me that day...." She whispered with a smile.

Her voice was still ringing in his head.

Just say you won't let go

"I-I love you.... Peter...." A few tears rolled down her cheeks and she was able to reach up to caress his cheek, "I love you more than anything..."

She really had loved him back.

Oh, just say you won't let go

But now she was gone...

Gone....

Forever.

#Spiderman Spiderman #saves our beloved Clara-chan #they fall in love #or at least he does first #oh no there goes Clara-chan...#sorry not sorry #Peter Parker x made up character #you could always substitute your name in where Clara's is #but giving her an actual name just felt right idk #TOm Holland #Spooderman #Spiderman

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losbella · 5 years ago

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luckiedee · 6 years ago

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Luckie’s April Writing Update

Words Written: 12,636

Words Written YTD: 46,303

Words Posted: 10,701

Words Posted YTD: 13,696

Highest Word Count Day: 1,036 on April 25

Lowest Word Count Day: 100 on April 14

Goals Achieved:

Exceeded word count goal of 10K

Plotted 1 fic (carried forward from March)

Posted 1 fic (carried forward from March)

Finished draft of 1 fic

Goals Not Achieved:

Plot 1 fic

Finish drafts for OMGCP Kink Bingo fics

April somehow ended up being my highest word count month of the year (so far??), even though I clearly had a slump in the middle of it. Not only that, I continued my streak of writing something every day this year, and I wrote at least 100 words every day in April.

With that being said, I’m still behind overall, and it would take a miracle for me to finish writing and editing my Kink Bingo fics by the end of May. I am going to finish them though! And it’s hard for me to be too upset when I feel like I’m making more writing progress than I have in years.

Onward.

An Excerpt (from the thing I was working on most recently):

The revulsion in his voice is so strong that it wrinkles Kent’s nose. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Think our Partnership means nothing? I thought we were friends, at least.”

#accountability!#luckie: writing update

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merlinzedane · 6 years ago

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Ducktales Fanfic#

:Deep Scares:

*Warning angst and little mentions of blood*

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Part 1

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Huey had lost his scens of time mabye an hour after he fell... he really- really did not know how long he had been trappet under the big rocks that followed him down, its just was one second he was throwing sharp rocks at the big scaled monster that was holding his white as snow in the head uncle Donald over its sharp big mouth.... when then it got very irritated with Huey's rock throwing, and under a few seconds, it had thrown his uncle over its shoulder and was giving Huey the dead glare while crawling towards him, “HUEY WHAT IN DESMON'S ARE YOU DOING! YOUR JUST MAKING IT MORE AN-“

Huey remember that thats all he got to hear from his great uncle before the monster grabbed at him, but lucky...and unlucky for him, Hueys fast reflexes got him just out of the way of its deadly grip.

But he then remembered the burning pain that began on his stomach and he couldn’t hear anything but his painful scream as he feel down.

Huey got out of his flashback with a gasp for air and a now awaken pain on his stomach.

He doesn’t even wanna look at it in fear of he might puke at the sight, but instead he graps his hands around his head as his headache worsens.

He looks around and begins too think quickly for a way too get out from under the big rocks “I’m not a woodchuck for nothing” he thought to himself, the little duckling looks around in search of his little red book, but with no wail "whe-AH! " Huey thought as a streak of pain caught him of guard, and he grips a arm around his still bleeding stomach it’s getting worse and now the 13 year old duck has too think faster!

Then he hears it... tiny rocks falling around his little prison, Huey takes his other hand that was still holding his head and holds it against his mouth, "maybe its uncle Donald..but its a big chance it's that...monster! again" the scared kid thought, he wasn’t gonna take the chances with his life..again...

So he waits until he hears someone yelling,

"Huey! EH LAD! WHERE ARE YOU!"

He could here his great uncle right outside his little cave.

Huey’s tears that he didn’t know was there begins too flow faster down his cheeks as he opens his mouth too call out from his uncle...

Huey can feel the last colors drain from his face and eyes...his voice

“Oh...no...”

Something is wrong with his voice.

But Huey puts the thought back in his head, when he hears a desperate voice call out again.

“Please lad...say something..” Scrooge says in a almost whisper as he takes a long look around the now boulder filled ravine that he had be climbing around in in almost half a hour now.. with a deep sigh.

Back in the rock prison Huey is trying too find another way too signal his Uncle, and at last he spots a small hole between the rocks where some lights shines through, and he begins too drag himself over too the hole, while he try’s too ignore the protests his body is making in the process with the dark spots thats beginning to block his vision, but at last he gets over too the rock wall.

He can just see through the hole between the rocks, a few feets away he can see his uncle Scrooge now sitting on a boulder with his face in his hands.

"I ead not gonna lose one of ma last family members now..." its a faint whisper from where Huey is.

Huey begins felling the guilt clawing its way through him,

"oh it's my fault.... if i hadn't been so heroic up there!....hi-his scared for me.."

Huey try's to use his voice again...but he gets nothing but a low whine out of it, and he begins to get frustrated by it and glares down on the floor instead.

But thats when he ses it, a little red gem...

Wait a second thats one of the gems from the treasure room his uncle said too hold on too when the monster began chasing them “BINGO!”

Huey takes the gem and throws it out of the hole wildly.

"Come on! Use you treasure instinct uncle scrooges!" Huey thinks with a weak smile on his face.

The gem makes a couple of little jumps as it makes it out the other side of the hole, and it lands right in front of his guilty money loving uncle.

Scroogs looks with shocking eyes down on the no longer jumping gemstone.

And in a split of a second and you can almost hear his neck making a snapping sound as he to fast for his age looks right up at the hole in the rocks the gemstone came from.

“Huey..is the ya lad?”

As Huey again try’s too use his voice he instead gets into a painful coughing spread that makes a echo.

And soon after he hears his uncle running in his direction, and soon he can feel a warm and gentle hand take his very colder one he had placed near the small hole.

"Don't worry ima getting ya right out of there, just hold still Hubert" it's almost a whisper for Huey has he hears his uncles words.

And soon there’s made a must bigger holed for him to get out of.

Huey feels two hands gently taking there place under his arms and he gets slowly dragged out into the fresh cave air, Huey gets placed with his back agains the rock his uncle before had been sitting on and feels one of the old duck’s hands on his head and with that movement Huey knew he had lost his beloved red cap.

But his thoughts is cut short when another painful cough is finding its way out of his mouth "oh god it hurts so much!" He thinks as he makes a louder wining sound short after.

And then he fell it crawling out his mouth, his mouth tasted like iron and he begins too lean more against the rock as he begins too get tired.

He looks up at his uncle thats sitting in front of him, still with his hand on Huey’s head.

The now more pail face of his uncle makes Huey's scary theory all too right as he can fell small streams of blood making it down his chin, and on too the floor of the cave.

But Huey can now really hear something his ears hadn’t caught before,

maybe it was because of his shock and some of the pain, Huey wasn’t sure as he tried too find out what the sound is, while trying too stay awake.

"Wait....is-is that uncle Donald?!"

Huey could here it clear now.

“Louie get back here!!! Its too dangerous for you on that side of the rocks!!!” Donald yells in his strange voice.

Huey can hear footsteps getting louder from behind the rock his sitting at, and he can see on the scared face expression of Scrooge

That it was indeed his youngest brother that’s running towards them.

“Uncle Scrooge I heard you talk too someone! D-did you find him?!” Louie said in a shaken voice as he stops a little bit away from the rock where Scrooge and Huey was.

“Lad..” Scrooge begins in a sad but determined voice, and Huey can feel another round of coughs coming up his throat...

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Hey everyone this is the end of part one of this story i been think about for months now...

buuut i been too much of a coward too try writing it and publish it...and thats mostly because I didn’t have too much faith in my own English writing...again im just a crazy Dane from Denmark 😅

But i did make and posted another fanfic on Wattpad last year and somehow it got some attention, and i even got a really nice comment! Even if I never finish it xD but this story is like a re-writen of that story.

And after months of telling myself that i am a okay writer I was finally brave enough too do it!!!

And ill try too write more of this story if i get enough feedback 😅

Sorry but im not going too continue something no one cares about thats why i need feedback if people like it😊😊😊

Cya im going too begin next chapter soon 😘 maybe 🤣

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#ducktales fanfiction #Huey duck fanfic #Ducktale angst fanfic #Huey duck angst

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ask-the-messenger-tf2 · 6 years ago

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Headcanons and Theories At Play In This Story

Howdy! I realized today I should probably address some of the specific features of this blog’s particular interpretation of some of the fuzzier bits of Tf2 canon. This list might grow, but here’s the key stuff for now.

RED vs BLU

My friend @xofreakydeakox came up with what I call the Shirt Swap Theory. Instead of there being a set of nine reds and a set of nine blus, there are ~20 mercs (the nine regular classes then Messenger and a different class counterpart) who are independently hired back and forth between the Mann Bros.

Say you’re Redmond Mann and you’re in a losing streak and you see that Blutarch’s sniper is doing really well? After this current contract with your mercs is up and everyone is up for grabs you might hire that sniper on to your crew- offering more money than your brother, of course.

Maybe you like a specific set of mercs that seems to be racking in the wins and working well together?

Bingo bango the guys (tm) start getting hired together more and more often after the first few years. Sometimes Red, sometimes Blu- sometimes things shake up a bit- like right around before Mann Vs. Machine.

So what’s up with the “the guys don’t know Pauling and Admin are working both sides” in this case? The mercs were originally supposed to be on solid teams like they had been in the past with the Classics and the Originals, but the Mann Brothers had been getting more ornery and impatient with age. Not super long After WAR!, the first time the guys’ contracts were up for renewal, Blutarch hired Messenger and Sniper (M. Mundy) instead of his previous Sniper and the other 10th class, who Redmond hired to make up for his loss.

Thus the “hiring war” began and eventually everybody except the Mann brothers and Potentially the soldiers kinda or flat out knew but they just...never did or said anything about it. Mainly because of the events in “Meet the Director.”

Constant Warfare and Respawn

I’m working with the theory that the “generations” of the Team Fortress were not as completely cut and dry as it’s somehow portrayed. The gravel wars in the Badlands have been going on continually with no true truce since the Original TF was hired. Intermittent peacetimes and “grunt” mercenaries fill in the gaps between the 3 Major Eras. And our current crew were not all hired at the same time: Scout was the last to be hired of the canon guys in 1966 (Which makes it so that he has been working with Pauling for 6 years as can be calculated from the comics.) Spy, on the other hand has been working in the Badlands since 1964, and Engie and Medic for much longer.

Which brings us to respawn which has been in the works since Engie was hired by the Administrator (which is BEFORE he was hired by Blutarch but that’s a long story). Medic, Engie, and The Physician worked together to create the machine systems. There were a lot of early errors, and the team roster didn’t fill up to the OG 18 until early 1966 when the Scoots joined. Respawn was stabilized before then but Admin had difficulty getting scouts that weren’t too old and terrified of the respawn system and the concept of eternity.

What it does: Respawns a merc in the state they were the last time they were scanned in their spawn chamber. Before each match, the mercs “zero” themselves in the chambers. Memories are not erased. This gets complicated but 2 words: brain upload. Don’t question it too much it’s tf2.

Alternate Nine/Alternine

These are the nine mercs (in-game classes) that complement the “Teufort Nine” (it should be Teufort 10 if you ask Messenger). The current alterSpy (Emilio) and alterHeavy (Boris/Borya) are the only two that came into the war after 1966. AlterSpy was hired shortly after the events of the “Meet the Medic” short- at which point the Teufort 10 were all on the same team for the first time. AlterHeavy was hired a few years later after a respawn error killed his predecessor.

Homes/Do they Sleemp At the Base?

Heavy, Spy, Dell, Pyro, Demo, and Soldier are shown/suggested to have homes somewhere in NM. However, there is a dormitory on base with enough beds for everybody when there’s a long stretch of constant combat between peacetimes/contract shufflin- or for naps. Scout is. Pretty much the only guy who uses this room much at all. Medic sleeps in his lab, Messenger sleeps in a closet at night, and Sniper lives in his van. When Spy is around, he sleeps in his smoking room that he has for some reason. Sniper’s bed in the dorm has been claimed for Sascha.

HC Names

This is for the guys who don’t have canonical/confirmed names and also Heavy’s last name is Sonovavich. It is literally never relevant but I like that one vine. Oh and Messenger’s name too.

Sniper: Mitchell (Mun-Dee) Mundy

Spy: Rémi Bonfils Chaput- if it sounds familiar yes this is in agreement with @dastardlydapperbastard ‘s Spio and HCs. Because that’s me.

Pyro: This will probably also never be relevant but their name is Roswell Goodnight. They are also a they. This was their identity for years before their mental state started deteriorating.

Messenger: Barbara E. Jared...Sorta.

Thanks for reading!

#[OOC]#[The Messenger]#[Mailsniperandco Main Story]#[obviously cross blog interactions and stuff are their own verses as well]#tf2 #headcanons and theories #long post

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hartofbel · 7 years ago

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Para | Naked Cooking

Who: Jezebel Hart & Ainsley Corcoran ( @ainsley-corcoran ) What: Bingo + Naked Cooking Where: Ainsley’s suite, Room 208 When: Sunday; June 10, 2018

Bel’s nap lasted more than just a few hours. By the time she woke up, the sun was already setting and the bed next to her was empty. There was a grogginess surrounding her mind as she blinked her eyes open and her body was sore when she sat up and swung her legs over to hang off the bed. Still, her vision was clearer and after a few sips of the water that was sitting on the nightstand, she was feeling a little more energized. As she stood up, she moved to look for clothes, but remembered that she was planned on keeping her clothes off the entire time she was at Ainsley’s so she just remained completely naked as she moved into the bathroom to freshen up. Once she emerged from the bathroom, there was a smile on her face when she found the other Switch, and placed a kiss on her shoulder as she passed by her on the couch. “Sorry I slept so long, Miss.” she started, looking out the window at the darkening sky. “I hope you’re not too hungry waiting for me to cook dinner.” She moved into the kitchen, pulling up the recipe on her phone and taking out all the ingredients from bags and the fridge. “You gonna come watch me, Miss?” Bel asked, a sly grin on her face.

The sound of a soft, insistent chime in her ear had Ainsley stirring from her sleep a couple hours later. Stretching, she contemplated waking the girl in her arms, before ultimately deciding against it. She’d pushed Bel, and the other girl had rose to the occasion. Now, it was clear that her body needed a bit more rest as she slept soundly through the alarm. Pulling on a loose pair of pajama pants and a tank top- she always woke up cold, and now was no exception- she padded out of the room, making a mental note to turn her heat up a few degrees. She took a brief moment to set out a few bath supplies, before continuing on to the couch, opening her laptop and pulling up an article she’d been wanting to read. In what felt like no time at all, Bel emerged from her room, and she smiled as she realized the girl had remembered not to dress before returning and heading to the kitchen. “Don’t worry, I figured you needed the rest, sweetheart. And besides, anything worth having is worth waiting for, right? ” She said, closing her laptop and getting to her feet, grinning at Bel’s cheeky comment. “Well, you know that’s an offer I can never refuse. What delicious concoction are you making for us today?” She asked, coming up behind her to peer over her shoulder at the gathered ingredients, her hands coming up to rest on the other girl’s hips.

Bel nodded in agreement to Ainsley’s words. “I just hope the food is actually worth having, you know?” Coming up with the dish she was going to make for the other Switch was harder than she imagined it would be, but when she thought about what parts of herself she wanted to share with Ainsley, she knew exactly what she wanted to make. “Rice pilaf. Have you ever had it? My mom’s submissive used to make it for us all the time when we were in Kenya and we all loved it so I thought I’d share that with you.” She leaned into her touch, relishing in the soft touch for just a moment before pulling away so she could start preparations. “I had my mom send me the recipe and everything. Also, she said that she hopes you like it.” After setting the oven to 350 degrees, she moved to the stove where she started adding ingredients to a saucepan. It wasn’t until the stove was turned on that she started to get a little nervous. Bel was notorious for being clumsy, especially in the kitchen and she just envisioned that somehow the heat from the stove would touch her in some way. She knew it was silly, especially since her parents had their submissives cook naked on several occasions. That thought calmed her and in no time at all, the air was filled with a mix of onions, bell peppers, and orange zest.

“I’m sure whatever you come up with will be wonderful, Bel.” Ainsley said, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, her hands unconsciously sliding up and down her sides as she tried to piece together what Bel might be making. Her curiosity was sated a moment later when Bel offered the information with a fond anecdote and she smiled, resting her chin lightly on her shoulder. “I think I might’ve, but I’m looking forward to your interpretation. And honestly, I’m excited to get to eat something that reminds you of home.” As much as she didn’t want to, Ainsley stole a quick kiss, before stepping away, absently leaning on the counter as she watched, not wanting to be too much of a distraction while Bel was working over a hot stove. “That’s very sweet of her. You’ll have to thank her for me when you talk to her next.” She genuinely liked the other Switch’s mom, and she felt a warmth spread in her chest at the thought that she seemed to like well enough. She noticed a flicker of hesitancy in Bel when she turned the stove on and couldn’t help but step a little closer, wanting to offer any kind of support she could, even for the little things. “I know you keep saying you’re not much of a cook, but that smells absolutely delicious and I honestly can’t wait to try it.”

The pressure was really on now that she’d tied the dish to such a fond memory. Not only because she wanted Ainsley to like it, but because she wanted to do the memory justice. Ainsley’s hands on her body was both distracting and comforting and if she didn’t pull away she did, she was sure she wouldn’t have wanted to move at all. Bel was very aware of light brown eyes on her body as she moved around the kitchen and while she was a little nervous, it was also thrilling. Both reactions causing her skin to turn a light shade of red. Once Bel got started, it was smooth sailing from there. With the recipe in front of her and the memory of being in the kitchen with her mom’s submissive at a young age, watching the older woman effortlessly prepare the dish gave her all the confidence she needed. After a few complicated steps, she placed the pot, towel and all, into the oven so it could bake. With nothing to do but wait, she made her way over to the other Switch, pressing a kiss to her cheek and nuzzling beside her to catch some of her warmth. “Hi, Miss. Dinner will be ready in about 20 minutes.”

Ainsley was honestly kind of fascinated as she watched Bel move around the kitchen, adding ingredients here and mixing things there. It always seemed like so much more effort than it was worth. But Bel seemed to be enjoying herself, in her own way, so she was content to observe the process from the side. Moreover, it kept her just occupied enough to stop her from distracting the other Switch as she worked- which was harder than she thought it would be. While part of her thought having Bel naked at all times when at her apartment would be fun, she knew she’d never get anything done. It was even more true when she noticed the slight flush that stained her skin, as she stared. When she made her way over, Ainsley grinned widely, pulling her closer as she ran her hand up and down along the other girl’s spine. “I have to wait a whole 20 minutes? That seems so long from now,” She asked overdramatically, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. “I guess you’ll just have to keep me entertained until then, won’t you?”

With having hardly anything to eat all day and the smell of the pilaf filling the kitchen, Bel was almost too hungry to concentrate on Ainsley’s words and the way her fingers trailed up the length of her spine. Almost. Even though there was still a sense of ignorance that surrounded the Switch, she wasn’t lost on how the corner of Ainsley’s lips curled into a telling grin, one that left little to the imagination when she prompted Bel to entertain her. Still, the Switch feigned innocence as she batted her eyelashes at Ainsley. “Keep you entertained, Miss? And how should I go about doing that?” She turned her body so that the front was flush against Ainsley’s side, which left perfect opportunity for her to lay both hands on her shoulder, where she easily rested her chin. “We could play cards or board games. Or we could watch tv. The list is endless, Miss,” Bel added teasingly.

Ainsley’s tongue darted out to moisten her lips as Bel looked up at her innocently through long lashes. Or at least, with the illusion of innocence. While the other girl had always had a bit of a mischievous streak, it seemed like it showing up more often nowadays, and honestly, Ainsley didn’t mind in the slightest, enjoying the teasing and the banter between the two of them. Turning slightly and pulling Bel so that they were flush, she pretended to consider the options the other girl presented. “Hmm, while all of those sound like they could be fun, I think I’d rather a more hands on activity. One that involves my hands on you, in particular.” She drawled, pulling her closer so they were flush, the only barrier between being was Ainsley’s pajamas. “Do you have any ideas that involve you spread out on some raised flat surface while I have you for an appetizer while I wait for our food to finish cooking?”

Bel always enjoyed the feeling of being flush against Ainsley and while she didn’t mind the way the fabric of her pajamas rubbed against her bare skin, she always preferred to feel the other woman’s skin against hers. She settled for being close to her however and the warmth she provided as ahs pulled her closer and closer with each minute. Bel mimicked Ainsley’s previous actions, rubbing her chin as if actually contemplating the suggestion given to her. Brown eyes drifted to the timer on stove, verifying that they had exactly 17 minutes before the food was going to be ready. With another teasing smile, a gesture she learned from her father’s submissive, she pulled away from Ainsley, leaning onto the counter right at the edge of the kitchen and hopping up onto the counter. She tried not to think about how her mother’s submissive would have scolded her for contaminating a place used for food, but she shook the thoughts away and focused on the woman in front of her, spreading her legs slowly until she couldn’t go any further. “You mean an appetizer like this, Miss?” She asked, gently teasing her folds with her fingers.

Biting her lip, Ainsley felt a rush of heat shoot through her as Bel hopped onto the counter, spreading her legs with a smirk. “Mmhhmm, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” She drawled, stepping closer, her eyes fixed on the apex of the other Switch’s thighs, watching as Bel’ fingers tried along her outer folds. Glancing over her shoulder she checked the time, before leaning down and stroking the length of her pussy, letting out a low moan, before going in for a second and then third, her hands moving to her hips to keep her still. She was torn between wanting to make Bel cum right there on the counter and wanting to get her right up to the edge and leave her there until after dinner, before ultimately deciding on the latter. “This is definitely one of my favorite ways to keep entertained.” Ainsley murmured as she licked and sucked, enjoying being able to take her time. It wasn’t too long before she got impatient and began working her tongue into her tight channel, careful to keep an eye on Bel and her reactions, never giving her enough to get too close, before backing off a bit. All too soon, the buzzer went off behind them and Ainsley stepped back, licking her lips. “Oops, there goes the buzzer.” Her voice was all honey and sweetness as she backed away, though there was a distinct sparkle on mischief in her eye. “I suppose the rest will just have to wait for dessert.”

It was so uncharacteristic for Bel that it almost made it too easy for Bel to give into the teasing banter between her and Ainsley. The comfort level that allowed Bel to hop up onto the counter so that Ainsley could completely devour her was one she never felt before and it only added to the pleasure that shot through her body as the other girl lapped and licked at her folds. One hand gripped at the edge of the counter while the other moved to settle on Ainsley’s shoulder. An attempt to keep herself grounded. It was just enough to feel the pleasure, the coil in her stomach staying at a dull ache, more than safe from falling over the edge. Time went by faster than she anticipated, and if it wasn’t for Ainsley pulling away and mentioning the timer, she would have missed the ding from the stove entirely. There was small whine and pout from the Switch but she definitely didn’t want the food to burn so she took a deep breath and jumped off the counter, trying not to think about wet she was as she finished the meal. As soon as she opened the saucepan, the entire Kitchen smelled of pilaf and while she was frustrated, she couldn’t wait to eat. “Where should we eat, Miss? Dinner is served!”

Ainsley watch through hooded lids as Bel moved around the kitchen, licking her lips as as she noticed a distinct shine on the inside of the other girl’s thighs. She considered going back to her original plan and just pinning the smaller girl to the counter as she had her way with her, but the smells wafting over from the stove were too delicious for even her sex addled mind to resist. Especially considering how long it had actually been since they’d had a proper meal. “Let’s eat in the dining room, then,” she decided as Bel dished out their food, a wide grin on her face a s she considered how much more room there’d be on her table for her to have her dessert in comparison to the kitchen counter. The pilaf was absolutely delicious, and Ainsley let out a low groan of satisfaction as she ate, already knowing this would be one she’d be asking Bel to make in the future. “That’s honestly one of the best things I’ve ever had.” Their conversation was light, but pleasant as they ate, and it wasn’t long until she had finished off her bowl and her hungry eyes turned on the other Switch once more now that she was no longer distracted by her stomach. “I think it’s time for dessert.” She teased, a grin playing at her lips as she extended her hand to lead Bel to her room to continue what she’d started earlier.

#gleedsmbingo2 #bel's card: 1c #ainsley #para: ainsley

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higuchimon · 4 years ago

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[fanfic] Rewards of Losing: Chaper 23

Ryou floated. He’d floated before, but this seemed different. There wasn’t any warmth here, but it didn’t feel wrong. If anything, the chill wrapped around him as tightly as the flames ever had. It had waited for him. Now it filled him and flowed along his veins.

There was a hint of comfort nearby – two of them, in fact. He’d never felt that kind of comfort before. Whenever he floated, he’d been aware of Yuuri’s presence. Now Yuuri wasn’t there at all. Ryou tested where the attunement had been and found that it wasn’t there anymore.

No more ties to Yuuri. Two other ties but not very tightly bound to him. He shifted, a whiff of his mind touching the closest one, the one that seemed the strongest.

Kei. He remembered Kei – sleek, strong, black as night, powerful in Healing, dry-witted, and telling him what he’d never wanted to hear and always needed to hear.

Kei. His Healer Cat.

Then he brushed against the other and stirred even more, straining to open his eyes. What was Mizael doing here? Why was that connection there? His heart pounded as he fought to claw his way out of the floating emptiness and back to the real world.

Firm hands touched on his, the hands of a Healer, and his first reaction was to jerk away. Yuuri? Was it Yuuri? Had Yuuri somehow found him? He wouldn’t know anymore, would he? They weren’t attuned. He’d not have that awareness.

But then a voice came. “Calm down. It’s me.”

Oh. Mizael.

Ryou still didn’t know why the other was there – he wasn’t even entirely sure of where there was – but slowly he relaxed, and dragged his eyes open.

He wasn’t in Fusion. He wouldn’t have been in a large tent if he were. He sat up in a cot and slowly looked around. Kei stood a short distance away, watching him with those cool gray eyes of his. And next to him, hands still gently wrapped around his own, was Mizael.

Ryou drew in a breath. He could feel the chill – he’d really done it. He’d become a Frostflame. Firestarter no longer.

A small flicker of pain at that – there weren’t many Healers capable of partnering a Frostflame, who needed the balance even more than a Firestarter did.

“Mizael.” He murmured the other’s name. Mizael nodded.

“You’re awake.” The blond settled back down on the chair he’d rose up from. “I was starting to wonder how long it would take you.”

Ryou slowly settled back and tried to get his thoughts sorted out. “We’re in XYZ.”

“Yes. You and your brother and those two women came over here with Kei.” Mizael regarded him. “Is it your intention to defect to our side?”

Ryou blinked slowly, still not as together as he preferred himself to be. Then he nodded. “I want nothing further to do with Fusion. I’ll fight beside you if you’ll allow it.”

“I don't think anyone will have any problems with that.” Mizael agreed. He tapped one finger against his chin. “But I have a few questions for you.”

Ryou had expected that. “I’ll answer.” He wasn’t going to put any limitations on how he’d answer. Mizael deserved nothing but the truth.

“Why didn’t you come back after the duel?” Mizael wanted to know. Ryou snorted.

“It goes back before that. Two nights before the duel, in fact.” Ryou recalled it in painful detail. “The same night we went out to eat together. I came home and I had a message from home – from Fusion. The invasion would start that weekend. Kei showed up and saw the message. We – had a fight about it.”

Kei’s tail moved back and forth. “You deserved it.”

Ryou wasn’t going to argue that point. He suspected Kei had already told Mizael this but he wanted Mizael to know what he’d done and why. “I did. But after Kei left, I went to Fusion. I wanted to talk the Professor into sparing both of you.” He shook his head. “He refused. You were going to be brainwashed – like I was being but worse. You wouldn’t have remembered anything about your own world – about who you are.”

He stared down at his hands. Where fire would have been flickering over there, now there were slow streaks of ice. He sighed and continued.

“He was going to have Kei carded. I couldn't stand it. I knew – Akaba Leo doesn’t care about anyone but himself and his plans. I tried to get back here but before I could, Yuuri drugged me.” He pressed his fingers together and the ice moved with them. He stared for several long moments before he started to speak again, fascinated by the way the ice clung to him. “When I woke up, I as in my apartment. Yuuri was with me.”

Ryou recounted how Yuuri drugged him, using the Healer’s Voice on him to ensure that he’d not only drink everything he was told but do everything he was told.

“I could feel the ice even then. The Firedamp helped.”

Kei nodded. “You were born to be a Frostflame. It would have happened no matter what.”

“I’ve heard of that,” Mizael agreed. “It doesn’t happen that often but it’s been known.”

Ryou shrugged. “We’ve always been told in Fusion that it’s a perversion of a Firestarter’s power. Frosting over wasn’t allowed.” Again he flexed his fingers. “I’d be carded if I went back anyway. For so many things.” But that didn’t matter. There wasn’t anything there he wanted to go back for.

Then he jerked up. “My deck!” Hadn’t Kei found it? His memories of their last moments in Fusion and first in XYZ were hazy and fuzzy to the extreme.

Kei nodded to something behind him and Ryou turned quickly to see his deck sitting on a small table. There were two other cards next to it, face-down, and he picked them both up curiously.

One he recognized – Cyber Dragon Nova – and the other he didn’t, though it was an XYZ Cyber Dragon.

“Kurosaki Shun brought that over. He heard you play Cyber Dragons and he had that in his collection,” Mizael told him. His lips twitched. “HE hoped that you’d be awake but you weren’t yet. He also wants to duel you once you’ve recovered enough.”

Ryou chuckled a little, reading over Cyber Dragon Infinity’s card text. They are meant to work together. How could this card so clearly be meant to work with his Fusion deck when it was created here, where Fusion had scarcely been heard of before the war?

A long tale that is.

Three voices spoke in unison and Ryou’s head jerked up again, eyes darting this way and that. Mizael eyed him cautiously.

No. Not cautiously. Curiously.

Ryou frowned. “You heard that.” Mizael’s eyes focused on a place that was empty – and so did Kei’s. They saw something that he didn’t.

“You’ve never seen spirits before?” Mizael asked. Ryou shook his head.

“We were taught that they existed and wanted to do battle so we should be fierce warriors to honor them.” Ryou’s lips twisted into a faint smirk. “But I’ve never seen one. I thought it was just something they told us so we’d fight for them.”

“I don’t know about there, but here, spirits are real. I’ve seen them all my life.” Mizael told him. He fished a card out of his deck. “This is Jinlong – he’s my partner. We’ve been together since I was a child. He says even before that, but I don’t remember.” He shrugged. “Anyway, that was Cyber End Dragon. They’re very pleased about you being here.”

Ryou wasn’t sure what to think about any of this. He shook his head and tried to get himself back on track.

“I couldn’t do much after that. Yuuri had a grip on me – we were attuned and he didn’t let me out of his sight while I was awake. I just barely managed to speak out during the duel and he wasn’t happy about it when we got back to Fusion.”

“What did he do?” Mizael asked quietly. Ryou breathed a very deep breath – not quite a sigh but on the edges.

“First he tried to convince me that we’re enemies – when I didn’t want to be anymore. I know we were supposed to be and I acted like it when we first met, because I didn’t know you. But you never acted like an enemy to me. You – were kind. You offered me cards and treated me like a person.”

It sounded ridiculous to him. Words he’d never thought he’d say. Of course he was a person – but Yuuri had always treated him more like a prize he’d won than anything else, and when the prize tried to get away, treated him like a prisoner. Not what he’d ever wanted.

“I offered you the cards because of Kei,” Mizael admitted. Kei licked one paw nonchalantly.

“Of course I did. Because I knew you didn’t want to be part of that place.” Kei’s ears twitched. “I asked Mizael to help me convince you that you didn’t want that either.

Ryou thought he should be upset but he couldn’t bring himself to really be. He didn’t regret anything that had happened – except for what Yuuri and the Professor had done.

“After that, he started to drug me more seriously. The drugs that rewrote my memories.” Ryou remembered what that was like, to trust Yuuri absolutely because he didn’t remember that Yuuri shouldn’t be trusted. His stomach turned and twisted at the thought and he fought it down as best that he could. He swallowed and kept on going. “But Kei and Shou helped me – they cleared all of the drugs out of me.”

Kei’s whiskers twitched. “Your brother’s a lot more talented than he seems. I think once he bonds he’s going to be close to as strong as you are.”

Ryou nodded. He didn’t think he was too surprised about that. Shou had always had hidden depths.

“So I never came back because I didn’t remember that I had anything to come back to. Or anyone.”

Ryou couldn’t quite bring his gaze up to meet Mizael’s. He’d said what he needed to – told Mizael what he needed to. Now he wanted to rest more than anything else.

Kei’s head rested against his. Ryou brushed his fingers gently against Kei’s fur – seeing the way the frost decorated it for a few seconds. It looked so beautiful…

“You are my Frostflame,” Kei told him. “I knew you were as soon as I saw you. Is that what you want?”

Ryou had never choked up about anything in his life. But he had to force the next words through a lump in his throat. “Please be my Healer Cat, Kei.” A single month before he wouldn’t have thought this possible. Now he knew so much better.

Mizael cleared his throat. “I don’t know about in Fusion but here it is possible for a Healer and their partner to be – partners in both senses.” He tried to choose his words. “To be bonded and to be – together.”

Ryou tilted his head, trying to grasp what Mizael was getting at. He thought he knew, but that could only be what Mizael meant, not what he wanted..

Something of his disbelief must have been visible in his expression, since Mizael regarded him with clear annoyance.

“Before all of this, I didn’t want to poach and you weren’t going to cheat, so we weren’t trying to court one another as Healer and Firestarter,” he stated. “But now there’s no poaching and no cheating. You’re a Frostflame. We had a date as two duelists – and two people who might want to date one another. I want to continue that. And more – I want to court you as both a Healer and a boyfriend.”

In all of his years, Ryou had never heard an offer like that. His eyes darted quickly to Kei.

“It has been done here,” Kei agreed. “Chris and Durbe – two of Mizael’s friends – are partnered in both senses. It is considered risky but not unknown.”

Ryou swallowed slowly. “I – can I think about it?” He’d already gone through more than he’d ever imagined today. He wanted to make certain that he made the right choices this time around.

“Of course. The offer is always open, though,” Mizael promised. “But whenever you decide, let me know.”

“I will.”

Part of Ryou already knew the decision that he would make. What other decision could he make? Who else could or would want to bond with a Frostflame?

He just didn’t want to make the decision now, when he couldn’t even get up out of his bed. When he was stronger – when he could look Mizael in the eyes – then he would accept.

Kei nudged him again. “Oh, I suspect that you’re not the only one who will be considering bonding to someone from this world.”

“Huh?” Ryou had started to lay down, wanting to get a bit of rest in. That hadn’t been what he expected to hear.

“Oh, I won’t spoil it for you. But your brother has made at least one good friend here. Once we let everyone know that you’re awake, they’re probably going to come visit.” Kei told him. “Shun isn’t the only one who would like to duel you, I’m sure. Lots of people have been dueling Tenjoin-kun and Himura-kun.”

Yes – he remembered now that Asuka and her friend had come along as well. He would want to see them once he recovered enough. Just what he’d talked about since waking up wearied him. He fought to keep his eyes open for the moment.

“They’re fitting in very well,” Mizael agreed. “Oh, I’m sure Rio would want to come see you as well. She’s a Frostflame too. She’ll probably have a few tricks to teach you.”

It had been a long time since he’d had to take lessons. Seeing the ice that followed his every movement meant that he would need that. At least there would be someone who could help. For now, though, he just nodded.

“Get some rest,” Mizael suggested, a shade to his voice that made it almost an order. Ryou savored not having to obey, to choosing to do so, settling back down on the cot and closing his eyes.

He didn’t float away. But sleep embraced him and he leaned into joyfully.

Mizael wasn’t sure how long it took for Marufuji – for Ryou – to fall asleep. Just as well he didn’t say yes right away. I want to think.

He meant what he'd asked. He wanted to try both bonding and dating. He’d heard good things from everyone he knew who was both bonded to their partner and dating them. Durbe and Chris practically dripped domestic bliss.

But he wanted to think about everything Ryou told him. He wanted to make sure that he wasn’t going to go off and find a way to shred Yuuri into tiny little pieces. Not that it wasn’t very tempting… but that was why he wasn’t going to do it.

You should. Jinlong murmured, lounging on the air near him, now in his human form. He’s nothing but trouble. But I don’t know if you could.

“Why not?” Mizael murmured, not wanting to wake up Ryou. He’d more than earned his sleep after all that.

Because he has a dragon’s heart. Dragons don’t die that easily. Jinlong told him. He played with the end of his braid. He reminds me of someone, but I can’t think of who.

That didn't’ clear matters up. Jinlong knew a lot of people. It could be any of them.

“You should go let people know that he woke up,” Kei told him with a nudge of his tail against Mizael’s leg. “His brother will definitely want to know.”

Mizael knew when he was being pushed out. But he didn’t mind that much. He pushed himself to his feet. It would be rather boring just sitting here regardless. Ryou probably wouldn't wake up for hours and he had matters to take care of – such as the aforementioned letting people know that Ryou had woken up.

“Bring something for him to eat, too,” Kei suggested. “His brother would probably know what he would like.”

“I think you want me to talk to his brother,” Mizael replied, letting the tiniest smile touch his lips. Kei swished his tail as innocently as he could and curled up on the cot next to Ryou.

Mizael chuckled to himself and headed outside. He trusted the Cat to guard – their – Frostflame. It might not be official yet but he and Ryou both knew what would happen. Bonds took place between those of equal power and there weren’t any other Healers in XYZ of Ryou’s strength. Not to mention Frostflames were special. Not just any Healer could bond to one. Even in Heartland, a lot of Healers feared Frostflames. Kotori was one of the few that hadn’t been.

Is that why she and Rio get along so well? Because they’re bonded and they love each other? He couldn’t be sure and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask.

Regardless, that was one of the reasons Kei was there. A Healer Cat held no fear of a Frostflame. Not to mention, someone like Ryou needed a lot of balance, more than what one human could give him.

But all of that would be settled later. Now he hurried along to the practice ring where he knew Michael would be this time of day. Shou would be there with him, since the younger Marufuji had developed a positive fascination for watching Michael spar against the handful of other blade-users in Heartland City – at least the handful that remained. A lot of them had ended up carded since the war began.

I should get mine and go up against him a few times, Mizael mused as he walked, touching a few trees and bushes as he did. I could use the exercise.

He did not deny that it would be amusing to do so in front of Ryou. Had Ryou ever seen two swordsmen sparring? He would have to ask. And if he hadn’t – well, then, that boded very well for the future, didn’t it?

To Be Continued

Notes: Yeah, I missed yesterday’s update. Sorry about that but I had a metric ton of things I had to do fall on top of me and eat up all of my energy so when I had time, there wasn’t any drive to post anything, written or not. But I only have two days left so that shouldn’t happen again.

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #ygobb2020 #ygo gx #ygo zexal #ygo arc-v #marufuji ryou #Mizael #yuuri (Arc-V)#chapters: rewards of losing #au: healer firestarter

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