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yelenasdog · 4 years ago

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moving out, moving on (mitch rapp x fem reader)

genre: fluff

summary: mitch and reader are taking another step towards mitch moving on, and it’s bittersweet.

words: 2.2k

warnings: drinking wine, kinda suggestive at times, talks abt katrina, mitch being emotional, my writing being melodramatic LOL

a/n: so. this was written during an all nighter that went to 7 am where i was listening to nicki minaj and eminem (???) for a good duration of it so. i’m very sorry if this is wonky at times! i hope u enjoy either way! mwah

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The early morning rays streamed through thin fabric, draped above the assassin's window. Dust particles floated about, becoming visible within the section of light cast from the sun. The birds perched outside the small apartment tweeted happily from their branch, their songs beautiful.

Though, they were quite pesterous to the pair that lay together, wrapped in gray sheets. They reveled in the heat provided by the soft blanket, but even more so by the warmth from their joint bodies.

A mop of dark brown hair stirred, bringing one hand up to softly rub his eyes with his knuckle, the other hand snaking around the waist of the woman peacefully sleeping beside him. He watched with fond eyes as she lightly groaned, rolling to face away from the invasion of bright, turning towards her love.

Mitch smiled down at her sleepy behavior, reaching out and brushing stray hairs from her forehead. He reluctantly retracted it only moments later, forcing himself out of bed to go and prepare the two of them for their big day as best he knew how: Coffee.

His sock clad feet dragged across the hardwood as he went, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips and groggy-ness (a word Y/n had donned as her own, and Mitch had caught on to) still very prevalent in his entire system.

The Rhode Island air was frigid this time of year, Mitch allowing a grin to break out on his face upon remembrance of two nights previous, just how cold Y/n had been in the arena of the Providence Bruins hockey team. Nose pink, donned in a beanie proudly showing the team's logo, well, he had found himself a new lockscreen.

He shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of said groggy-ness, his body on autopilot as it made the beverages. He picked out her favorite mug from the cupboard (AKA a souvenir from Dubai he had picked up long ago) that she had adopted as her own, drinking out of it every time she would spend the night, almost like clockwork. He waited for his coffee beans to brew, scratching his stubble along his jaw. He flinched, though, when he felt two arms wrap around his middle. He quickly relaxed into the embrace upon realization of who the supposed assailant was, her head finding its way to rest on his bare shoulder.

“You scared me, there.” Mitch muttered, his larger hand inching towards her’s on his waist. He closed his eyes in content and she hummed in acknowledgment. Mitch allowed her to turn his figure to face her, still residing in her arms, seeing a bright smile plastered across her face.

“Only for a minute though, right?”

She laughed to which he chuckled in response, nodding in false surrender. “You’ve got me there, Y/n/n.” He mused, his eyes lighting up at the sound of the coffee machine beeping. He looked back to her, shrugging.

“I made you coffee, was gonna bring it to you in bed but, y’know.” He gestured to where she had now climbed up to sit on top of his counter, his sweatshirt around her that read “Brown University” across the front in large lettering pooling around her thighs.

“It’s alright, I need to get a move on anyway.” She smiled, hopping down to retrieve the mug, taking the warm ceramic from Mitch’s hands and sighing at the wondrous feeling that had spread through her whole body. She lifted it to her lips and drank, not surprised that her boyfriend had made it just the way she liked, to perfection.

“Thank you, baby.” She commented, reaching up to plant a chaste kiss on his lips. Her lip curled as she pulled away, Mitch already knowing what she was going to say, a laugh bubbling up in his throat.

“Mitch! Go brush your teeth, for the love of God!” She whined, watching as he scampered off towards the bathroom, snickering all the way. She rolled her eyes, downing the rest of her beverage before following where Mitch had gone.

Once in the bathroom after rinsing her and Mitch’s mugs, she tied her hair up, undressing and turning on the water (practically scalding hot, of course). Mitch had no objections to the temperature, though, seeing as it was his last time showering with her in that apartment, and in that apartment, period.

The whole thing felt very symbolic to Y/n, at least, seeing it as washing themselves clean for the next phase of their lives together, a sort of preparation. (Maybe not so much for Mitch, who really was just pleased for any excuse to see his girlfriend naked.)

They used generous amounts of soap, as not only were most of them nearly empty (in fact, a few were and if it weren’t for Y/n, they probably all would be), but also that they had decided to simply just buy new toiletries as a whole for their new place.

They giggled at the sight of each other, all lathered in bubbles and suds. Mitch reached a finger forward, wiping it from above her eyebrows and preventing it from falling into her eyes. Y/n brought her arms around his neck, her lips connecting with his. “Much better.” She regarded with a smirk, before leaning back in.

Nearly 40 minutes later, they both emerged from the shower, fresh faced and ready for the day ahead. He didn’t have a lot that needed to be packed up, given that his place came fully furnished, so it took all but 2 hours and 5 boxes to pack up Mitch Rapp’s life. It honestly might have taken even longer than originally would have been needed, as Y/n would stop every time she found something interesting, allowing Mitch to tell her all about whatever stories had been connected to the item.

It had started with the ridiculous bird lamp that sat on his bedside table, once belonging to Mr. Nazir, and ended with his lacrosse stick. (And, a promise that one day, he’d show her how to play. He swore he’d never seen her smile that big.)

They also threw away and donated a lot, some of Kat’s old stuff bringing a pained smile to his face as he would place it in a box simply labeled “Kat” in messy, thick letters. He wasn’t sure if the box would end up in his new closet, covered in dust and unopened, or back with her family. But either way, he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to her completely, which Y/n was able to understand.

“Mitch? Did you pack away your coats already?” Y/n called out, opening up the closet near the front door. Her breath slightly hitched in her throat upon seeing all of the photos of Mansur, still pasted to the painted wood, the edges curling up.

“Nah, not yet, I was gonna handle that while you worked on the cupboards” He responded, busying himself with a text from Irene on his phone wishing him good luck. He looked up and saw what she had been asking about, his phone quickly sliding into his pocket as he made his way over to where she stood, visibly distressed.

“How long have these been here?” She questioned, feeling Mitch’s arms wrap around her shoulders. She brought her hands up to grasp onto his wrists, leaning backwards into him and biting into her lip.

“Since the beach, when I decided to go after Mansur. When everything happened with the CIA, it was kind of a whirlwind, I didn’t really have enough time to even think about taking it down when I was only even here for hours at a time.” He lightly chuckled, watching as she stepped forward and began to take the pictures down, crumbling them up in her hands.

She ran her fingertips over the indents left in the door, feeling the splinters against them. She turned back to Mitch, quipping how “Mr. Nazir won’t be too pleased about that.”

He smiled, joining her in taking all of the images down, ripping them or balling them up in his fists. All of them ended up in one of the old Target bags they had been using for trash, filling up an entire bag (minus a few Dunkin cups sitting at the bottom).

Mitch trailed a few tender kisses down the left side of her next, and though it sounds cheesy, a feeling of hopefulness flooded himself out of most of the bitterness that had been stuck inside for so long.

She turned her head to catch his lips with her own, and smiled into the kiss, her hand finding the back of his head. She lightly tugged on the chocolate colored strands and he groaned in content, to which her grin only widened. She pulled back, ruffling the top of his head before beginning to pack away the remnants of what was left in the closet. He rolled his eyes, following suit.

They had piled all of the boxes into the back of Mitch’s old decommissioned CIA vehicle (which was obvious that is was such, given that the side was littered with bullet holes and metallic scratches), returned the key to Mr. Nazir (who was glad to see Mitch go), and with that, they were off.

The new place wasn’t too far away, the pair taking a page out of Stan’s book and opting for a wonderful sense of privacy. It was nestled in a rural corner of Massachusetts, where Mitch would be able to come home to a sense of serenity. Y/n had already moved in her possessions, Mitch’s items being the last step. They’d also furnished the cozy cabin, trips to IKEA and Urban Outfitters (along with several other over-priced boutiques) making the place feel like a perfect fit for the couple.

Mitch’s strange and varied knick knacks made the house feel like a home, his lacrosse stick finding a new home by the front door, right under a hanging potted plant that Y/n and Mitch had decided to affectionately name “Charles” after a drunken night watching the X-Men movies. The house was littered in plants such as Charles, in fact, with Mitch’s first response to seeing all of them being “Wow, looks like a greenhouse in here.”

(Still, he’d grown to love the plant babies. Trust me.)

Two tired smiles made their ways to their faces as they both sat on their new sofa, admiring a job well done. Though several boxes still lay on the hardwood, unopened, they felt accomplished enough to pull out a bottle of wine that they had been saving for the occasion. It was an early housewarming gift from Stan, to which they were unprepared to take advantage of, it seemed.

“Baby, did we unpack the wine glasses earlier?” Mitch questioned, his mind slightly foggy of the day's events and early start.

“No, I think they’re still packed up.” She replied, to which Mitch’s eyes lit up, an idea forming and an imaginary lightbulb popping up over his head. He got up from his seat, a wide smile spreading across his face. Her expression mirrored his own, with an added quirked brow at his antics.

“I’ve got a solution, wait here.” Mitch responded, padding over to where he had remembered the new home of the mugs to be. Upon realization of what he was doing, Y/n smiled, rolling her eyes and bringing a hand up to run through her roots.

He shuffled back over moments later, his girlfriend recognizing one of the mugs in his hands as her favorite. He sat down next to her, with the bare skin of her thighs touching his own, jean clad. He bumped his knee to hers with a giggle, pouring out the Pinot Grigio into the mugs.

She gratefully accepted it as it was handed to her, smiling as she took a sip. Mitch did the same, the two of them leaning back into the soft sofa. Y/n brought her legs up, cuddling into his side and absorbing his warmth. He brought his free hand to her side, a strong hold giving them both a strong sense of comfort as she lay her head on his shoulder.

The box labeled “Kat” remained unpacked along with the others on the floor, dust already beginning to gather. Mitch had come across it a few times that day, each time more thoughtful than the last as he struggled to decide what it was exactly he was feeling towards the objects; or perhaps towards the memory of Katrina.

He had come to realize that it was acceptance he felt, deep in his stomach, settling down. It had been brought upon him in totality over time, today’s events being the final step. A soft smile spread across Mitch’s face, a single tear falling from his eye. Y/n looked up, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Mitch, are you alright?”

He leaned down, connecting their lips in a watery yet nectarous kiss, his hand beginning to rub small circles on her shoulder.

“Yeah, Y/n/n.”

The fire they had built earlier was roaring, now, casting a warm glow across the pair’s features. The damp trail down his cheek was highlighted, nearly glistening on his skin like an amber.

“I’m doin’ just fine.”

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ok btw ik that wine in mugs would be a horrible idea but this is fiction so SHUSH

anyway i hope yall enjoyed! i love writing for mitch and i have lots of future fics for him, so if u liked this, please reblog and follow if ya wanna. mwah, go drink water and have some protein <333

xx hj

#mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp imagine #american assassin fic #american assassin fanfiction #american assassin imagine #dylan obrien imagine #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan obrien x reader #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien x y/n #dylan o'brian imagine #mitch rapp x y/n #stiles x reader #we will rock queue #yelenasdog

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lucky-catttt · 3 years ago

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Maxwell Lord’s Aphrodite - Pt 1

Summary: When Maxwell Lord’s world comes crashing down, you, his personal assistant bring him back from the pits of despair.

Pairings: Maxwell Lord x Reader (female), Maxwell Lord x You

Rating: Mature 18+ ONLY - I’ve also put a smut alert ahead in bold if you want to skip straight to the good bits ;)

Word Count: 7,381

Warnings: Sexual intercourse, foreplay, mentions of domestic abuse, trauma, drug/alcohol abuse.

A/N: This is my first fan-fic, so the writing might not be fantastic, but if you have any pointers/advice please tell me! I always read stories about Maxwell being a domineering guy and never stories about how he can be romantic and soft. When I watched WW84 especially at the end I saw how emotional and vulnerable he was with Alistair and wanted to write a story that portrayed him as a big cuddly teddy bear under all that masculine exterior. Enjoy!

You’ve worked for black and gold corporation for the better part of 7 years. You were hired as an intern assistant at just 21, soon after the company jettisoned from its humble beginnings inside a matchbox office suite on the corner of a strip mall, to a stock market listed company leasing the top floor in the tallest high rise office building in Los Angeles. Soon after moving in, the top floor office was packed with young, vibrant men and women who helped profits soar. But even at its busiest, Maxwell always made time for his staff. No matter what he was going through, he would give his staff his undivided attention and empathy. If they were having personal or professional problems, he would do everything he could to help. It aligned with his company motto, “life is good, but it can be better”.

He believed it was important to be as personable and helpful to others as possible, he felt that it was imperative to his own success. Only you knew this really stemmed from his less than favourable upbringing, being abused by his father, bullied by his peers and having to work hard for his achievements. He could be having the worst day, but he would never make it known to his team, all except you of course, being his personal assistant. As you spent a large amount of time together, Maxwell confided in and involved you in many personal areas of his life. 6 months after you started working for Max, he invited you and your then boyfriend to his wedding, stealing a waltz from you at the Reception. A year later, when his son, Alistair was born, he would show you picture after picture of baby photos, gushing about how proud he was to be a father. 3 years later when the company had its first day on the US stock exchange, you and Max stayed up all night at the office running through press releases, interviews and planning the next 6 months of his now very hectic schedule. When Alistair would come to the office to visit, you would babysit and play with him, change him, feed him, read him stories and sing him to sleep.

As he started to grow up, you soon rivaled Max in Alistair’s favourite person to spend time with at the office. Two years ago when you ended up in a very bad car accident and broke your arm, Max showed up personally to the hospital looking frantically worried about you. He even brought along Alistair who was helping carry a giant bouquet of flowers, a teddy bear and balloons. He stayed overnight after your surgery, sleeping in the most awkward positions on the single armchair next to your hospital bed. While you were in surgery, he made sure your work health insurance covered every cent and even provided company paid physiotherapy so you could get better properly. You knew you were in love with him since that dance at his wedding, but you had too much respect and adoration for him to be a homewrecker. Plus, you just assumed as he was so involved with all of his staff, that it didn’t mean he would be into you romantically.

As you were required to attend many of the shareholder and CCO/CEO/CFO meetings to take minutes, you became intrigued with the world of business and economics. So you enrolled in a Bachelor’s degree part time through a local University. At the time, women in business was largely unheard of, and to avoid sexist comments and discrimination, you told no one. When the Global Financial Crisis hit, it slammed into Maxwell’s dreams like a meteoroid. Overtime was required at the office and you spent most of your time in Max’s office doing paperwork for staff that had been laid off due to the budget cuts. Each day he would be on the phone, yelling at other business men on the other side of the world. You watched his positive energetic demeanor slowly chip away, as his drinks cart full of spirits and liqueurs dwindled alongside. Not long after, Black and Gold’s Chief Financial Officer and advisors within the company were arrested for Insider Trading and other shady business dealings.

Throughout all of this, you had given Max as much support, personally and professionally as you could, while still being respectful and platonic as he was a married man. With most of the staff gone and the company’s finances in disarray from the GFC and mismanagement, the universe dealt Max the final blow, his divorce. His wife, who was clearly only interested in him for his money and how it could provide her a cushy lifestyle, filed for divorce as the company was failing. She tried to take him to the cleaners financially, but Max was smart enough to have a prenuptial agreement and keep what was left of his dwindling fortune. So she used their son, Alistair, as a pawn in her game. The courts granted Max shared custody, but only one visit per fortnight. This devastated him as his son was his whole world.

He didn’t want to become destitute by giving up his fortune to his wife, but he didn’t want to lose his son, either. It started to tear him apart, leading to drunken nights in his office, alone. Except, he wasn’t totally alone. Every night, after everyone had gone home, you would stay back late each night to check on him and make sure he hadn’t done anything stupid. You would sit in one of the barren office cubicles with a vantage point to his office, but invisible to see from his desk. With tears sitting at the edges of your eyes, you silently watch him drink enough alcohol to chill out a bull, take some pills, flip through photo books of Alistair and start to sob. This went on for months. Overdue bills and foreclosure notices started to pile up on his desk. Egregiously inflated child support payment requests from his ex-wife littered the coffee table in his office.

Today was an exceptionally hard day, Max had received a resignation letter from his second last employee, leaving just you and him in the office. He slept on the futon in his office the night before, waking up looking disheveled, his tie pulled loose, shirt half tucked, suit jacket on the floor and his shoes god knows where. He looked awful.

Night falls, shrouding the office in darkness. Apart from a few desk lights, the floor is cold & dark. As you start packing boxes with office paperwork and belongings, you glance over to see the outline of Max at his desk, with his back turned, silently smoking a cigarette and drinking a glass of whiskey on ice. He reaches back for a brief moment, to press the answering machine, illuminated by his desk lamp. *beep* Message received, Wednesday, 4:33 pm “Hello Maxwell this is Brittany from AMP investments, your lease agreement with us has been defaulted for 6 months now with $150,000 in rent arrears. If it is not paid by the 30th of this month, building management will deactivate access to the floor and repossess any remaining belongings on the property. *beep* End Message. Message received Thursday, 5:43 pm “Max it’s Barb, I’m cancelling Alistair’s visit this weekend, seeing as you don’t want to pay me any extra child support.” *beep* End Message. Message received today, 7:02 pm “Hey Daddy, it’s Alistair, Mommy said I can’t come over because you’re working too much to see me. I wish you weren’t working all the time so we could play together and go to the movies and-“ you hear Barb, Max’s ex wife cut him off with “Alistair? What are you doing on the phone?! Who are you talking to?” Alistair whines, “I wanted to talk to Daddy” suddenly the sound of the receiver slams into the phone. *beep* End Message. You have no new messages.

The office is dead silent, but you can audibly hear the sound of Max’s heart shattering into a thousand pieces. He begins to cry, slowly shrinking in his chair, slumping down with his forearms on his knees and his head bowed. The cries slowly become more intense, with Max gasping for air between the long loud shrieks as his whole body shakes. “Alistair! My Alistair! My boy! I’ve failed you! Your Daddy failed you!” He wails, tears freely flooding down his face and snot dripping out of his nose, both like endless waterfalls. He drops to his knees and collapses onto the carpet, like he’s been shot right through the chest. He continues to sob & wail, forgetting that he isn’t alone in the office. You walk to the doorway of his office, frozen with indecision. Your heart was pounding and eyes on the verge of tears from what you just heard. On one hand you feel like you’re intruding on something extremely personal and maybe somewhat embarrassing for Maxwell, but you’ve never seen him like this and he looked like he was physically dying.

“Mr Lord, is everything okay?” Your soft voice quietly called out from the doorway of his office. Your medicated voice jolts Max out of his catatonic state and into a sitting upright position, as he quickly wipes his face and fixes his hair. “Oh, Ug-I’m so sorry for you to see me like this, it’s quite unbecoming of me” Maxwell apologises, trying to play it off with a light hearted chuckle between quiet heaved sobs. You catch a frozen stare, peering straight into his soul past the bloodshot, weepy but warm, brown irises.

Your heart is thumping hard, as if to try and break out of your ribcage and fly over to him. Max had been there for all of his staff, especially you. You couldn’t walk away after everyone else in his life had abandoned or given up on him. “You don’t need to apologise, Mr Lord.” You slowly reply, stepping over the booze bottles littering his office floor as you walk over to him. He’s frantically adjusting his outfit and hair, to look as put together as possible before you sit down beside him on the floor. You both sit there in silence, with the odd sniffle coming from Max’s nose. You finally pucker up the courage and say “I didn’t want to intrude but I heard the voice messages, I’m so sorry all of this has happened to you, Max”.

He had never heard you say his name before, it was always “Mr Lord”. It felt like honey soothing his dry strained throat as it rolled off your tongue. You continued, “You’ve always been there for me”, you paused to redirect attention, “for all of us. What can I do to help?”. You reach out and place your hand on his. Your warm, soft touch sends a shock wave of emotion through his body. No one has cared about him like this before, let alone touched him in such a gentle way. Max stares at your now teary eyes, realising he can be vulnerable and trust his longest and closest friend.

He collapses by your side, crying into your shoulder “I’m a failure” he sobs “My business, my marriage and most importantly I’ve failed my son. I just hope one day that he can forgive me and love me and be proud of me. He is my whole life, I just want him back”. You start to choke up but you have to remain composed. You look up and away, silently biting your knuckle and blinking tears back into your eyes before responding. “Max, you are not a failure, you are an exceptional human being. You built this company from nothing and you changed peoples lives. And don’t even get me started with Alistair, you’re the best father a kid could ask for, it’s not your fault your ex wife is being abusive”. He continues to sob, so you wrap your arm around his side and let him cry for a few minutes. The smell of his chemically lightened & straightened dark blonde hair filled your nostrils as his forehead pressed against your chin.

His large fingers and palms grip your free hand. They’re surprisingly soft & very warm. You freeze as his touch sends zaps of electricity up your arm and down your body. As Maxwell leans against you, your perfume overloads his senses, bringing him back to a conscious state. What was he doing? He thought to himself. I’m a failure, and everything I get close to fails or leaves. He looks down at your hands. I can’t hurt such an amazing person. I have to rip off the metaphorical bandaid and be cruel to be kind. “Thank you” he sighs, catching his breath after minutes of sobbing “You can go home now. In fact, I want you to take a redundancy payout so you can find another job. There’s nothing left for you here. I’m a failure and I don’t want you drowning with the ship” he says, in a clinically professional voice. Max hands you a company envelope with your name on it. He sits up to take a sip on the remaining whiskey left in his glass.

Your ears begin to burn and your cheeks redden with anger. Tears prick at the edges of your eyes, begging for them to flow. “Alfred will take you home in the company car, or wherever you want to go”. He continues, now smoking a cigarette.

“But what If I don’t want to go?” You whisper, trying to hide the sobs that are trying to break through your voice. “Please, I just want you to be happy” Max replies. You take great offence at his ignorant statements, as if he knows what makes you truly happy. “How do you know what makes me happy, Max?” You huff, standing up abruptly and folding your arms. “Well, I don’t know, but I can’t exactly see how you would be happy staying here while my company fails” he answers, shrugging. You feel your heart begin to break, realising that even being single and having such a close professional relationship with you, Max seemed to hold no deeper feelings for you and was almost starting to turn on you. You stand there wanting to run for the door but trying to think logically. Men are dim, maybe he doesn’t realise your true feelings? Maybe he’s preoccupied with his own and too overwhelmed to face them?

Max’s embarrassment from being caught in such a vulnerable state compounded with offending you takes its toll and he starts to get frustrated and impatient. “I think I just want to be alone now”. He sighs, looking away. The words cut deep, slicing you apart like ribbons. You begin to feel yourself fall apart, your emotions and thoughts spilling out with force. “I can’t leave” you sob, hanging your head in shame. Hearing you start to cry, he starts to hate himself more as he's clearly made you upset. With emotions bubbling over, he stands up, looking at you with tears in his eyes. “Why? Why can’t you leave!?” He shouts, a pained look of frustration and confusion on his face as he puts his hands on your arms, gently shaking you to get you to speak.

The last of the ribbons tying up your words from coming out fall down around you. You look deep into his crazed brown eyes, longing for an answer. “Because I love you!” You blurt out, sobbing. The tension in the room is now thick enough to cut with a knife. “I’ve loved you since the night we danced at your wedding. I fell in love with one of the most empathic, intelligent, hard working and compassionate men I know. You changed my life and every day I wish I could’ve shown you the love & kindness you deserve. That you need”. You step back from his grip, straightening your pantsuit as you compose yourself. “But I guess if I’m not needed anymore, I’ll leave you alone, Mr Lord”. The duality of your emotive declaration of love against the rigid clinical final words lurched his heart forward like a freight train and then slammed against his rib cage with the force of 100Gs.

You start to stride towards the door, but Maxwell follows behind you quickly, grabbing your hand, where you turn around on your heels. He grabs both of your hands and brings them up between you, squeezing them gently. “Pl-please don’t, don’t leave me” he begs, “you-you’re all I have left”. His dark brown eyes shimmer with tears as he shoots you a pleading gaze. He drops to his knees, wrapping his arms around your legs and squeezing tight like he's hanging on for dear life. You stand frozen on the spot, feeling Max’s warm breath on your legs as he heaves a few more cries. As you start to run your hands through his dark blonde locks, the sensation calms your mind and you reach your hands down to cup Max’s face, tilting it up to look at you. “I won't, Max” you say with a concerned gaze. “As long as you don’t push me away”. Max nods silently as he reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out his pocket square. He stands up and starts to gently wipe your tears away. “I’m so sorry” he apologises “I lashed out because I felt like a failure and I didnt want to let you down anymore and disappoint you.” he continues while making sure he’s wiped all of the tears from your cheeks and cleaned up some of your smudged makeup. “You’re not a failure, Max” you reply, “You’re an incredible man and you should be proud of everything you have achieved”.

Max gives you a small smile, blushing slightly as he gently embraces you with his big arms, pulling you close against his chest. His strong cologne masked the slight tinge of body odour from not showering mixed into a masculine and attractive scent. You quietly inhale as much as your lungs will allow, savouring every smell. As he starts to brush through your curls with his large fingers, he plants a small kiss on your head, making you feel like you could melt out of his arms and into a puddle on the floor. “I’m sorry, too.” you whisper. ��Sorry for what?” he quizzes, looking down at you, puzzled. “For telling you that I love you. It’s true, but I feel like it was not the most appropriate time to tell you with everything that’s going on with Alistar, the company, your-” Max interrupts your sentence “Come with me”. Max strides you across his office floor with his arm around your waist. You both walk over to an unassuming door, which you always thought led to a supply closet. Upon its opening, you step into the room to reveal a whole bedroom, complete with a dining table, sofa, TV and ensuite. You had been Max’s personal assistant for 7 years and had no idea such a room even existed. “Wow” you manage to blurt out in complete shock. “I had this room made so that when I was working long hours my ex-wife and Alistair could stay here” Max explained, adjusting bits and bobs around the room “Although my ex-wife never stayed. She always accused me of sleeping with other women in this bed when in fact I was actually working. I kind of live here now, having sold my estate to pay to keep the company running”

He gestures to you to sit on the timber art deco dining chair, as he picks up the phone on the coffee table. “Alfred. Can you please take a drive and bring back any decent takeout food you find. Make sure to get some for yourself, too”. Max hangs up the phone before turning on the radio and then grabs two wine glasses from the small bar by the lounge and a bottle of red wine. He places both glasses on the table and fills both half way. You pick up your glass and walk over to the floor to ceiling window, overlooking downtown LA. As Max is fussing over tidying and making the room perfect, he glances over to see you standing alone, looking out the window. Lost in your own little world, you feel Max’s large soft hand intertwine with your free hand. “I started black and gold in a shoebox office inside a strip mall, over there, in South LA” he points just in front of the hills. He pauses. “I expect that after I get evicted I won’t even be able to lease that same office”. You give his hand a small squeeze. “Maybe I could help you”. Max looks at you dubiously. “How do you mean?” He inquired.

Just as you were planning to answer, Alfred arrives with some food. Max walks over to your dining chair and pulls it out, gesturing for you to sit. You take your seat and he flaps a linen napkin into your lap, before sitting down adjacent to you. Alfred had bought some delicious Mexican food, the intoxicating smell of meats, cheeses and spices filling the room. “Thank you, Alfred. I’ll call you again if we need anything” Max smiles, patting Alfred on the back as he leaves. You both sit at the table for hours, eating, drinking and talking about the company. Max finally learns the secret that you’ve been hiding about studying at University. “I haven’t officially graduated yet, but learning what I have, I could probably help Black and Gold get out of its current predicament. I also might know some investors that I befriended in the same units as me from the University”. Max shoots you a soft smile. “You really are the best assistant and friend anyone could ask for” he beams, placing his hand on yours. Embarrassed by his compliment and burning with desire to want to kiss him, you stand up and head over to the couch to distract yourself from your intense feelings. Max realises the use of the word friend was probably a poor choice. He must be honest with you and tell you how he feels. Max joins you on the couch where your arms are crossed and you’re staring ahead. You’re trying to avoid eye contact else you’ll burst into flames.

********SMUT ALERT********

“I hope you don’t think I’m rude or ignoring the impassioned declaration you made earlier” Max smiles “I just wanted to give you a semi-decent first date”. You feel your cheeks begin to blush and you unfold your arms. “The truth is” Max continues, resting his hand on yours. “I feel the same way about you. Even before my ex-wife divorced me, I started to fall in love with you. The way you are with Alistair, how committed you are to helping me. I just didn’t think you’d wanna be with an older man like me and even more so when everything started to go downhill”.

You place your hand on top of Max’s, both now staring at each other softly yet intensely. “Max” you turn to face him, edging closer. Max nervously places his hands on your cheeks. “I’ve waited for 7 years, please kiss me”.

Max finally kisses your lips, setting your whole body alight. Dizzy from the sensation, you lay back on the couch as Max follows down on top of you. He begins peppering slow, thoughtfully placed kisses down your jaw and neck. You let out a whimper as your hands twirl through his hair. Every movement he makes is slow, as if he is trying to slow down time and make this moment last forever. Max comes back up and passionately kisses your mouth, your tongue begging his for entrance. As your tongues intertwine, he holds your head and neck with one hand, while stroking your hair with the other. Max holds you gently yet strongly in his arms, like he’s holding onto a fragile Fabergé egg. With the position you’re in on the couch and the impracticality of your work attire in non-work sitting positions, he senses that you’re uncomfortable.

“May I?” He asks, holding the zipper to your dress as he places his arms behind your back. You nod and he slowly unzips it, gently slipping it off you and carefully folding it over the armrest of the lounge. Overcome with passion and desire from Max’s romantic gestures, you blurt out “I want you to take me, Max”. Without a word, he scoops you up in his arms and walks you over to the bed, placing you down gently in the middle. Max sits at the foot of the bed, marvelling at your stunning body. You’re wearing stockings and a purple lingerie set, coincidentally Max’s favourite colour.

Max leans down and kisses the top of your foot, peppering kisses up your legs before reaching the clips of your garter belt. He unclasps them before rolling down the stockings, kissing back down your legs. Burning with desire, you unclasp your bra and garter belt, throwing them to the side of the bed. Max looks up from kissing your legs to see your breasts exposed in the moonlight, your nipples hard from his gaze.

“Y-you look absolutely beautiful” he chokes before climbing up on top of you to reach your face. You blush, feeling Max’s extremely hard cock straining in his suit trousers against your thigh. “Kiss me, Max” you moan, brushing your lips against his and moving your hand down towards his crotch. Max slowly and passionately begins to kiss you, your tongues swirling in each other’s mouths, the taste of wine and chilli making for a sensual combination. As your hand reaches Max’s crotch, you begin to grope and rub his sizeable length, causing him to let out a loud moan. You shoot him a cheeky sexual gaze, but he grabs your hand and brings it up for you to cup the side of his face. “Not just yet my little dove” he whispers. You pout but decide to put your hands to better use and unbutton his shirt, revealing his strong chiseled chest. Max starts to breathe deeper from arousal as you unbuckle his belt and throw it to the floor. “I want to take my time with you” Max whispers “You’ve waited so long and I want this moment to be everything you deserve. I want to worship and pleasure you completely”.

Your pussy is now completely soaked, the faint squelches from your juices against your panties sounds in the background of Max kissing your neck. Maxwell is more preoccupied with taking his time in a combination of making up for lost time with you, giving you the best first time with him and making this moment last as long as possible. “Guide me” Max sighs between kisses, giving you his free hand. Holding it with both hands, you guide him down your neck and to your breasts. Max traces your breasts, flicking your nipples as he watches you whine with pleasure. Slowly he leans down and begins to suck on them, gently swirling his tongue and flicking. He kisses from one breast to the other, squeezing them in his hand. “Your body is perfect. Your skin is so soft.” he moans. By this time you’re rubbing your thighs together in an effort to stimulate your clit without your hands as they’re gripping Max’s dark blonde hair.

“Max, take off your pants” you pant, becoming overstimulated from all this teasing foreplay. He stands up off the bed and unzips his trousers, pulling them down to reveal his rock hard cock. “Oh Max” you moan, reaching down under your panties to touch yourself as his cock twitches. Max hurriedly crawls onto the bed and back up to your face, pulling your hand out of your panties. He brings your fingers close to his mouth and rubs them on his lips before bringing his tongue out to swirl around them, sucking your juices off them. “Touch me Max” you immediately whimper “I need your touch”. Max moans before kissing you passionately. As you both enjoy your tender kiss, Max traces his hand down your body, over your breasts, along your stomach and reaches the edge of your panties. Max reaches into your panties and gently places a finger at the top of your pussy, gently but firmly pressing down as he traces over your clit and down to your opening. Your wetness has coated every inch of your pussy. “You’re so wet” he pants, the sensation starts to send some beads of precum out the tip of his cock. “For you” you moan, writhing in pleasure at his calculated & lingering touch.

Looking deep into your eyes, Max rubs your folds slowly before he inserts two fingers gently but deep inside you. He begins to switch between a circling and a come hither motion on your g-spot, sending sparks shooting up through your body. You arch your back and let out a moan, while Max kisses your neck. “Oh Max baby that feels so good” you moan, gripping the sheets. “You feel amazing” Max sighs, brushing your hair out of your face so he can study your facial expressions as he pleasures you. Just when you thought it couldn’t feel any more amazing, Max places his thumb onto your clitoris, bringing you closer to climax in a matter of milliseconds. “Oh my god Max, Max I’m gonna cum” you moan into his neck, biting him. Max continues fingering you, intently watching your face waiting for you to reach orgasm.

Between Max’s fingering, his kisses and eye contact it doesn’t take long for it all to send you over the edge, riding into a full body orgasm, squirting all over Max’s hand. “You’re so beautiful baby” Max coos, holding your body close with his fingers still inside you as your back arches and your body trembles while you let out a long loud moan. Despite this exquisite display and sensation happening between your legs, Max keeps eye contact with you, peering deep into your soul, completely enamoured. As you start to come down from your orgasm, Max slowly removes his fingers and sucks them clean. “You taste incredible, so sweet baby” he moans, licking the squirt off his hand. As you begin to catch your breath, Max kisses down your body and reaches your pussy, where he begins to lap up the rest of your juices. Very gently, Max parts the puffy pussy lips covering your clit. He starts to lick in between the folds, avoiding your clit as it recovers from the intense orgasm. He travels down to your entrance where he sticks his tongue inside, tasting your juices inside you.

The hum from his moan as he eats you out relaxes you like a lullaby. Max then comes back up to your face, kissing your forehead. “That was incredible Max” you pant, staring up at the ceiling. He rests his lips against your neck, cupping your breast and gently squeezing it and thumbing your nipple. “Let me pleasure you Max, please” you beg, giving him a pleading gaze. Max obliges as you change positions with him now lying on his back. You cup his face with one hand, giving him a loving smile as his hand grabs yours. He starts to kiss you as your hands both guide down his chest, stomach and reach his groin. You begin to tease him, tracing your fingertips around the base of his cock, then up the shaft. Your light touches cause his cock to twitch. “Your touch is magical'' Max groans as your hand grips his shaft and travels up to his tip. His precum has soaked the head, giving you enough lubricant to slowly jerk your hand up and down, gripping tightly.

The sensation for Max is heavenly, panting and moaning between kissing your cheeks and forehead as you concentrate your gaze on his pulsing cock. Your jerking movements become more intense as you look up to see Max with his eyes closed, like he’s dreaming and if he opens them you’ll cease to exist. You continue to jerk him as you kiss his neck, feeling his cock harden even more and begin to pulse rapidly, like he’s getting close. “W-wait” Max whimpers. “I want this night to be about pleasuring you. Your mere presence pleasures me enough.” He kisses your hand & cups your cheek, looking deeply into your eyes. “What can I do to please you? Would you like t-to make love?”. Your heart bursts with emotion as this man is so set on pleasuring you so much. “Yes Max, I would love that very much” you sigh.

You lay back down on the bed, Max lying by your side. He begins to embrace you, running his hands over your body before kissing down your neck and chest as he rubs your clit. Max stops for a moment, studying your beautiful naked body. He then moves down and pushes your legs up, exposing your pussy. As you squeeze your breasts and look at his chiseled jaw, Max nervously lines up his cock before rubbing it on your clit, soaking the tip in your wetness. Impatient with how he’s teasing you, you whisper “Fuck me Maxwell”. Slowly, he pushes his cock down your clitoris and through your folds before the tip pushes inside. Without even being all the way inside, he moans “this must be what Heaven feels like”. With one gentle thrust, he’s completely inside, shuddering as your warm, tight, wet walls squeeze his cock shaft and tip. “Oh my god Max. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment” you moan, as he starts to slowly thrust. “M-me too beautiful” he grunts, feeling pure ecstasy wash over him as your pussy tenses, massaging his twitching length. A few minutes go by of you both silently staring intensely into each other’s eyes, kissing passionately. With every thrust you begin to connect deeper to Max, your bodies intertwining on a physical, emotion and spiritual level. Max’s cock twitches inside you as he watches you moan and bite your lip, squeezing your breasts.

“I can’t believe you love a man, a man like me” Max says still in disbelief, watching your body motion up and down as he slowly strokes in and out of you. He studies your body intensely, watching the moonlight and shadows play across your curves as your breasts bounce with every thrust. “You’re so beautiful Hermosa”, his mother tongue now coming through “como una diosa, like, A-Aphrodité.” he sighs, cupping your face with both hands. You cover his hands with yours, interlocking your fingers, turning your face each way slightly to kiss his palms and stare back at him lovingly and seductively, feeling like you could float away. “Your Aphrodite” you sigh, arching back slightly in pleasure, gripping his hands to guide them down to your breasts for him to lovingly caress and fondle. In slight shock at your romantic response, he immediately leans down whilst thrusting and peppers kisses all over your lips, letting out a sniffle.

With his eyes closed, focusing on lasting to bring you pleasure and to hide his emotions, a few tears drop onto your cheeks as he continues to thrust, now grunting each time into your neck to cover up the small sobs. You kiss his cheek, to take his tears away, the saltiness turning into sweet nectar on your tongue. “It’s okay baby, you can be vulnerable with me, I will protect you. I love you”. You choke, now crying also. Both sharing a connection transcending physically, in that exact moment, without an increase in volume, the lyrics of the Bob Dylan song playing on the radio seem to stand out and ring true in this very moment;

Storm clouds are raging all around my door, I think to myself I might not take it any more. Take a woman like your kind, To find the man in me. But, oh, what a wonderful feeling, Just to know that you are near. Sets my a heart a-reeling, From my toes up to my ears...

Your foreheads now together, staring deeply into each other’s eyes, Max whimpers “I love you so much” as his whole body begins to tense, signalling he’s on the precipice of an orgasm. Feeling his cock become even harder as it thrusts into the deepest part of your pussy, slamming the extra nerves to unlock your powerful orgasm. “Oh my god Max I’m gonna cum” you moan, slamming your eyes shut as you begin to try and slow down so this moment can last forever. “Cum mi reina” Max pants, keeping the tempo of his thrusting steady as the waves of your orgasm reach its peak before crashing down & flooding your entire body. Your body arches and trembles as you scream “Oh Max!” while your pussy clamping down & releasing in pulses on Max’s cock. The sight of you orgasming tied with the sensation around his cock sends Max over the edge. “Cielo” Max groans, shuddering all over as his cock spurts thick ropes of cum against your sensitive cervix. You both share a passionate kiss as Max’s cock softens inside you. “That was amazing Max” you pant, your body weak from the two mind blowing orgasms Max gave you.

Max collapses on the bed beside you, kissing your neck and running his fingers through your hair. “I can’t wait for us to do that again” Max chuckles against your neck. You kiss Max’s forehead, sighing as your body still slightly shakes from the two powerful orgasms Max just gave you. “I think a shower is in order” He embraces you momentarily before scooping you up in his arms and carries you off the bed, walking towards the ensuite. “Are you ever gonna let me walk again?” You giggle, nestling into his neck. “I like feeling you be as close to me as possible” Max laughs, before your feet land back on the tiles inside the bathroom. Max turns on the water and you both step into the shower, the steam now filling the room. Max has an assortment of body washes and shampoos, ranging from musky to citrusy and floral scents. You step closer to Max as he takes some lavender body wash and begins to rub it down your back, his hands dancing over the rest of your body as he starts to wash you. “I know I keep saying this, but you are so beautiful” Max sighs, running his hands over your ass, grabbing a cheek in each hand. “You’re not too bad yourself, handsome” you giggle against Max’s neck.

You both spend at least an hour in the shower, washing each other, chatting and sharing a few more intimate moments. Soon, the wine from dinner, the warm shower water, the scent of lavender and your fatigue from your orgasms starts to take its toll and you feel your eyelids drooping. Max finishes washing you and grabs a towel to help you dry off with. As your eyelids close completely Max has already scooped you up and walked back to the bed, placing you in the middle before wrapping you up in blankets and placing a small kiss on your forehead. “Goodnight my love” he whispers. “Mmmm” you moan, already in a dream state. Max soon gets under the covers with you, embracing you tightly as he watches you sleep, twirling his fingers through your hair. The smell of lavender on your skin soon lulls Maxwell to sleep.

The next morning you wake up, dazed and a little hungover, but well rested. As you look around the room, you survey the many pieces of clothes, miscellaneous items and wine bottles strewn across the floor in a tornado of passion from the night before. As your eyes adjust to the sun, you see Max in an under-shirt and pyjama pants over by the dining table. Max, in his own little world, frantically setting the dining table with some breakfast Alfred had brought up while you were sound asleep. He’s making sure everything is laid out perfectly, straightening the cutlery and pouring Orange Juice and Champagne into a glass from the bar. He hears the cotton sheets move behind him, immediately turning around to see if you’re awake. “Good morning beautiful” Max hums, rushing over to the bed to pepper your cheeks and lips with hundreds of little kisses. “Morning handsome” you giggle, running your hands through Max’s hair, in an attempt to match your bed hair. “Are you hungry, mi amor?” he asks between kisses. “I’m famished” you reply, stretching to help you wake up more. As you writhe around in the sheets you notice you’re wearing a chiffon baby doll.

“I hope you don’t mind I uh, had it in the wardrobe & wasn’t sure if you liked to sleep naked so I put it on you just after you fell asleep.” Max laughs, scratching the back of his head. You blush, feeling embarrassed that you got that drunk, but Max’s reassuring smile makes you feel at ease. “I do usually sleep naked, but I like it, it makes me feel beautiful”. Max sighs “so beautiful”, wrapping you up in a tight embrace and planting a single kiss on your forehead. Max scoops you up and carries you out of bed before you lightly plant your feet onto the carpeted floor. As you glance over to the dining table, Max comes up behind you and helps you slip on a long beautiful chiffon robe, accented with feathers on the hem.

“Another little something for my beautiful mariposa” Max coos, kissing your cheek before pulling out your chair at the dining table. You feel like you’re walking on clouds as you step over to your chair and sit down, Max flapping a napkin onto your lap. “Oh my goodness Max you’re such a gentleman” you blush. “My mother taught me to show women the highest level of respect and care. She made me the man who I am today.” Max replies, looking out the window momentarily. You outstretch your arm across the table to squeeze Max’s hand “And she would be so proud of the man that you’ve become” you beam with a sweet smile. Max soon draws your attention to the diverse spread of pastries on the table, pointing out the different fillings of each and asks if you would like coffee. You nod before noticing a large bouquet of red roses in the middle of the table. As Max places a few pastries on your plate, you feel a sense of intense attraction wash over you like a wave.

Your internal monologue starts to read back to itself, reflecting on how loving, generous and respectful Max is towards you. How much he takes care of you and oh god, how handsome he looks…you start to feel aroused by this somewhat submissive gentleman, sensing a rising heat from your core. Max submitted to your every want and desire last night, raising you up and worshipping you like a goddess, now you wanted to submit to him. Knowing now that you can be vulnerable and honest around Max, you lean back in your chair, biting down on a blueberry pastry.

To be continued..... ;) muahahahaha

a special thanks to the users below for the inspiration and encouragment!

@pintsizemama @anaaaispunk @maxlordsgf @rav3n-pascal22, @pedrostories, @absurdthirst @pedrosbrat

#maxwelllord #maxlord #max lord x reader #max lord x you #max lord smut #maxwelllord smut #max lord x f!reader #maxwell lord x f!reader

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hermannsthumb · 3 years ago

Note

for the autumn fic meme.. newmann #20 like newt chasing leaves and hermann outwardly is psh, childish and internally heart eyes and is crunching the leaves around his feet with his cane when newts not looking (this became really long lol feel free to just post it not as a request)

20. Crunching Leaves

from autumn fic prompts here

this is such a cute idea

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

"It's weird having a break from things, isn't it?" Newton says.

Hermann hums noncommittally. He prods the small fire in their chiminea with the end of a rusted poker (dug up from a garden shed that's seen better days), and moves his leg back just in time to avoid spraying his trouser hem with sparks. Newton tugs the sleeves of his sweatshirt down over his knuckles and gives him a small smile. "Even a small break," he amends. "It's like a mini vacation."

Hermann is not sure—if given the opportunity to do so—he would've picked the northwestern United States as his ideal vacation spot, nor would he spend three out of their four days there networking and lecturing at an international Kaiju Science conference, but he supposes he understands Newton's point. The location of their rental cabin is remote and wooded, which has made for rather calm, picturesque evenings by the living room fireplace, and everything (even their sparse accumulation of groceries) is on the PPDC's budget, which means it's hardly the hit to the wallet it would have otherwise been. Ideally, he would not have to handle Newton on a vacation, either, but Hermann supposes nothing can be perfect. He watches silently as Newton pours himself another cup of coffee from the rental kitchen's French press. "Mm," Hermann says.

Their flight back to Hong Kong leaves tomorrow afternoon. Over their shared dinner of instant mashed potatoes and fish sticks from a box, Newton had suddenly become deeply incensed that they had not taken full advantage of the rental cabin, and dragged Hermann outside onto the small back patio to do some proper autumn things—to Newton, that meant finding two wooden deck chairs languishing under moss and ivy at the very back corner of the property, lighting a campfire in the dusty chiminea with an ancient book of matches discovered under the sink, and attempting to roast marshmallows with a broken tree branch. He gave up on the marshmallows after he kept burning his beyond recognition, too impatient to hold them anywhere but directly in the flames. Hermann had not bothered in the first place. He's always been somewhat repulsed by their texture. "Have you ever been camping?" Newton says.

Hermann shivers at the thought of willingly spending time inside a tent. Even sitting outside beneath trees right now (where twigs bounce from above onto his clothing, bugs keep landing on him, and all sorts of things to set off his hay fever) is pushing the limits of his patience. "Absolutely not."

"I used to go camping every October when I was a kid," Newton says. "I loved it. This place kinda reminds me of the campground we'd go to. So many—" He waves his hand around, and adds, lamely, "Trees."

Hermann privately thinks that all forests tend to look the same, but he doesn't tell Newton that; it's not as if they can take a stroll through the woods whenever they'd like back in Hong Kong, where they spend about ninety percent of their waking moments toiling away in the dark and the damp of the basement laboratory, and he's not keen to put a damper on Newton's good spirits. He knows Newton has spent more than a few days off of work hunting down the nearest hiking spots, always returning (often the following morning) with his pockets full of leaves and interesting rocks he looks up online. Hermann has always, quite frankly, found it endearing. Not that he would ever confess such a thing to Newton.

He pokes the fire again. This time, sparks shoot out at Newton's boots. Newton doesn't bother moving out of the way. "I never spent much time outside as a child," Hermann says. "Too busy with school, I suppose." When he was not doing schoolwork for his classes, he was practicing whatever his mother and father decided school was not sufficiently instructing him in (for the Gottlieb children were expected to be exceedingly accomplished and well-rounded in their skills)—advanced mathematics, languages beyond their native German, even piano, for a spell, before Hermann finally confessed he loathed the instrument, though he still retains enough of it he reckons he could play some Chopin should you sit him down in front of one. He used to have a treehouse—a hand-me-down from his elder brother, as most of Hermann's things were—he would keep his telescope in, and he would fall asleep there some nights, one eye still pressed to the eyepiece. That was when he still had the full capabilities of his left leg that were required to shimmy up and down a ladder, of course.

"Didn't you live on a farm?" Newton says.

It was not actually a farm, as Hermann frequently reminds Newton, merely a former farmhouse on what was, at one point, likely farmland, but that must've been at least a hundred years before the Gottliebs moved in. The house was certainly old enough. Newton never fails to roar with laughter over it anyway, and Hermann knows it's because he's picturing Hermann's in dungarees and milking a cow or some such nonsense. Hermann can see Newton's mouth twitching into a broad grin even now. "Hardly," Hermann says. "I really do mean I was too busy to have the time to do much else. My mother and father preferred it that way."

"'Much else'?" Newton echoes.

"Childish sorts of things," Hermann says. A dead leaf drifts from a tree overhead and lands near him on the patio. Hermann stabs it with the poker, debates condemning it to the fire, and then flicks it off to the side inside. He drops the poker back on the ground. "Er. Playing. Indoors, or outdoors."

This sobers Newton up. "You mean, like, being a normal kid?"

"I suppose," Hermann says.

"Jeez, dude," Newton says. "That's...kinda depressing."

Hermann shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee. He doesn't think much about it these days. He doesn't think much about his childhood in general, really, and certainly doesn't waste time moping over it—there are much more important things that require his attention. "Is it?" His coffee's gone cold. They've been out here for quite a long time; the sun has almost set on the horizon, and the chill of the October evening is settling upon them fast. Hermann suddenly wishes he'd thought to pack a thicker sweater. Or, oddly enough, a book. It feels like the appropriate setting to read something, perhaps even aloud to Newton (not that they would ever agree on what to read). Perhaps he and Newton might draw their chairs together, and toss a heavy blanket over themselves, and Newton would put his head on Hermann's shoulder and poke fun at Hermann's taste in literature, but listen intently anyway...

The fire pops. Hermann coughs and shoos his traitorous thoughts away. Another leaf drifts down, this one landing in Newton's hair, and Newton's smile returns as he extracts it. He clenches his fist around it with a satisfying crunch. "I love fall," he says. He raises his boot above another leaf and slams it down with an even louder crunch. His smile widens into a grin. "Hey, do you remember if there was a rake in the shed? I kinda want to make a leaf pile."

"It's nearly dark, Newton," Hermann points out.

"And?" Newton hops to his feet. "I'll be right back," he says, and, his scarf flapping behind him like a cape, tears off back in the direction of the shed, taking care to trod on each and every dry leaf in his path.

He returns a minute later empty-handed. "No rake," he says.

He jumps on another leaf. Then another.

"Don't be such a child," Hermann sighs, though his heart twists in his chest at the sight of Newton so unabashedly happy. He often envies Newton for how carefree he can be sometimes, though he has a sinking feeling what he's feeling now is nothing remotely like envy. Newton really is a thorn in his side.

Newton, rather appropriately, sticks his tongue out at him, and then jumps on another leaf. The force of it jostles his glasses so far down his nose they threaten to fall to the ground themselves. "I'm having fun, man. This is the first time I haven't been stressed out of my fuckin' mind in months." He pushes his glasses back up. "I wish we had another day here."

Oddly enough, Hermann finds himself agreeing with Newton. But he'd prefer an additional day without Newton, of course—Hermann would love to have a day all to himself here, where he could sleep in late, take advantage of the bathtub (which he's been too shy to so far, given that their cabin has only one restroom and he shares it with Newton), and devote as little time as he pleased to all things kaiju-related. Well, maybe he'd let Newton stop in for dinner. Or for a passionate debate or two. Or to share a blanket and a book, if only in Hermann's wildest fantasies. It does sound a bit like a bore without him.

While Newton's back is turned, Hermann uses his cane to crunch a few dry leaves littering the ground by his feet. The sound really is quite satisfying. "Can we go inside now?" he says. When Newton turns to him, his hair sticking up at odd angles, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes bright behind his glasses, Hermann must affect a frown to keep himself from smiling. "I'm—er—I'm getting a bit cold."

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #newt geiszler: manic pixie dream scientist #we're getting chilly weather up here AT LAST and I am pleased

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nad-zeta · 4 years ago

Text

Mochi Madness

Pairings: Vlad x Reader

Words: 2200+

Comments: Eeeeeeeek! Once more HAPPY BIRTHDAY NEEEMOOO! ❤☺hehe I bet we have all become far better at making mochi than we were with the first attempt lol,☺😳😳😳😳 Eeeek I'm super excited to see how our cheesecakes and brownies are going to turn out! whoooop whoooop even more excited to spend the day with ya ! hehe, hope you had a wonderful day neemo filled with all the candy, all the sunshine and all the sweetness! Sending ya infinity catbus hugs! hehe love ya lots! ❤❤😳😳

.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’･ﾟ｡.*:・’ﾟ: ｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ

The month of July was not a particularly special time of the year for you, but for Vlad, it meant the world, for it was the birth month of his dearest flower. You had insisted multiple times to the man not to make a big deal out of the day of your birth, and after a bit of back and forth, a compromise was made. A morning spent making some delightful birthday treats followed by tea in the garden was the suggestion and one that seemed like an appropriate way to spend your birthday. Not too grand, yet intimate and memorable.

It was the early afternoon of your birthday, a perfect time to make some treats for tea. You were the first to arrive in the kitchen, so you decided to prepare yourself for the mountain to climb. You tied the pink apron around your waist, washed your hands and gathered the ingredients for the battle that was about to commence. Your kitchen had become a war zone, so to say, more so because of your severe lack of cooking abilities.

Your comrade—companion in arms— arrived in due time to lend support and as such, marked the start of the great birthday battle.

Vlad strode through the kitchen doors, taking soft steps as he carried a basket of precious cargo close to him. “Ah, just in time, did you manage to get enough strawberries from the garden,” you asked curiously, shooting a happy smile over your shoulder.

He returned your smile with a gentle one of his own, coming up beside you to place the heavy basket down, pulling the cloth off to reveal a mountain of strawberries. You let go of a gasp in awe. “I think we have enough strawberries to feed an army,” you jested with a playful elbow jab to Vlad’s side.

“I have no intention of sharing these with an army, only with you, my love,” came the light chuckled response from Vlad as he reached over to grab hold of a matching pink apron. It was the cutest apron, littered with bunches of tiny bright red strawberries— a gift from his last birthday— one which he cherished very much for the feature of his favourite food. Despite the airy response, you knew he was dead serious, especially when it came to his beloved strawberries. You shook your head with a smile, memories of past castle shenanigans flashing in your mind— of Faust and Charles stealing Vlad secret stash of berries and the severe punishment that awaited them for their crimes.

Your eyes drifted down to the recipe— it was one you had come across a few weeks ago while searching the library for a book to read. Mochi, it was called; you remembered researching the dish after it had been mentioned in a favourite book of yours. You were always curious about the dish. However, after the main character described the soft, chewy texture, you knew you just had to try the treat for yourself. Hells, you were so excited about wanting to try it out, that you had immediately sought Vlad out in his garden to share the discovery and to find out if in all his years on earth if he had ever come across such a dish.

With a shake of the head and a fond smile shot your way, he suggested that the treat be included as part of your birthday picnic.

It took a bit of searching and lots of researching, but thankfully, with Vlad’s help, the two of you managed to find a small recipe book that featured the soft, chewy dessert.

“Okay, first things first, we need to mix the rice flour and water,” you stated, tapping the recipe in thought as you read a little further to gauge the next few steps to follow.

Meanwhile, Vlad reached out to pick up the two bags of powdery substances laying on the table, crimson eyes scrutinizing the labels. He then turned to you, concern painted over his face, “What’s the difference?” he asked.

Your first obstacle had just arrived; you knew it was one that would come back to haunt you as even after you had found the recipe, one of the ingredients had never been heard of before. You and Vlad hunted far and wide for the rice flour when finally, one day when Vlad was on his way home from the flower shop, he spotted the very flour you required for the baking battle. The only problem was that that shop housed two types of rice flour. So Vlad did what any reasonable person would, he bought them both. It was a problem for future Vlad to deal with.

You looked over at him in confusion, which only seemed to grow when you investigated the labels yourself. “Surely glutinous rice flour and rice flour are the exact same thing,” you stated, stroking your chin and wracking your mind for any differences between the two.

“Let’s see what the recipe says?” Vlad suggested, moving to take a closer look at the book.

“Sweet rice flour,” he read aloud with widened eyes. How was there a third type of rice flour? You tried to decipher the labels for any indication, even going as far as to look at the sugar content hoping that one of them would be higher, as surely that would dub it as sweet rice flour? More sugar equals sweet, right? RIGHT?

After a moment of pondering, and investigating you smiled over at the man with a carefree shrug, “there is only one way to decide which to use.” Vlad looked over at you curiously, raising a brow as he waited for you to reveal your master plan.

”Cover your eyes,” you said with a widening smile and a hint of mischief, carefully taking the two bags from his hands and putting them behind your back.

Once his eyes were closed, you brought the bags forward and placed them down on the counter, keeping a cautious eye on Vlad to make sure he wasn’t peeking. With a satisfied nod, you quickly started shuffling the bags around until even you were unsure which was which.

With a tender smile scattered across his face, Vlad’s eyes twitched to open ever so slightly, if only to catch a glimpse of what you were up to. Unfortunately for him, you had eyes at the back of your head and caught him in the act trying to steal a glance, “Nuh uh, I see you peeking,” you squealed out, quickly rushing behind him and bringing your small hands up to block his vision further.

He tilted his head to the side, puzzled as to just what antics you were up to. As if reading his thoughts, you finally revealed your ingenious plan. “Since neither of us knows the difference between all these flours, we shall let fate do the deciding for us!”

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement, hands extended out in front of him to feel around the counter until finally, they hit one of the bags. After a moment of patting around for the second bag, he randomly picked one up, “this one,” he smiled, turning to lock eyes with you.

You clapped your hands together happily, letting out a gleeful hum, “perfect! Okay, let’s mix it with some water!”

Without care for quantities, you eyeballed the amount of water thrown into the bowl with a satisfied smirk— you never were in the habit of measuring ingredients out accurately, much rather opting to follow your gut.

After the two ingredients were combined in a bowl, you cooked it in a saucepan until a blob of sticky goo formed. You removed it from the heat and set it aside to read the next set of instructions. “Knead,” you stated simply.

Vlad looked at the pot of goo dubiously, giving it a little poke, “is it supposed to be this sticky,” he asked with a troubled expression. Cooking had never really been his strong suit either, despite the years spent on the earth.

“I mean, the recipe didn’t say it shouldn’t look like this, “you responded with a confident shrug and an easy smile. You tried tipping the pot out onto the counter, only for the goo-like substance to remain firmly stuck to the bottom, causing an amused snort to come from Vlad.

“Interesting,” the white-haired man mused, using the spoon to help the goo from the pot to flop onto the counter. He split the mixture in half and gestured for you to knead one half while he took care of the first.

“Here goes nothing,” you said, apprehensive, not entirely sure what kind of end product to expect— as things stood, the pile of goo was neither light nor fluffy, just a sticky mass.

After several moments of trying to knead the glob, you finally broke into laughter, “this is not working,” you looked down at the ‘dough’, most of it being stuck to your hands, the other half stuck to the board.

Your gaze shifted over to Vlad, who seemed to be having about as much luck as you with the dough, but instead of kneading, he was playing with it like goop between his hands, “I bet Johann would like this, reminds me of one of his experiments,” he said with eyes lit up in childlike wonder.

Continuing on your crusade, somehow, you and Vad managed to get the sticky mass of goo into a semi doughlike blob. Left to chill for 30 minutes beneath a heap of cornstarch, you moved onto the next feat, ganache...

Easy enough, you thought scanning the recipe— how wrong you were— how very wrong indeed, as it was anything but simple. You glanced around the kitchen and gulped; Charles was going to kill you when he got home.

The mixing of the chocolate and cream was easy enough, but the shaping of the dark chocolate substance into balls? Now that was a separate feat on its own. After letting the ganache sit in the fridge for a few moments, you were ready to make up and fill your mochi.

A strawberry centre with a chocolate ganache covering. That was the goal, and truly the recipe made it sound so simple. Just make a ball out of the ganache and press the strawberry to the centre, covering it entirely with the chocolate, it said— it will be fun it said, freakin nope! What the recipe didn’t account for was warm hands and sticky chocolate melting and making a giant mess.

Even though the once-pristine kitchen turned warzone from the hurricane that was your and Vlad’s cooking, a smile never left Vlad’s face.

You had to laugh at your pureblood lover covered in chocolate, brows furrowed together as he tried his hardest to wrap the mochi dough around the ever melting chocolate covered strawberry. At some point, to motivate himself between mochi’s, he would pop the ‘flopped strawberries’ into his mouth, you know, to taste test and make sure they were still good.

After 5 successful ish attempts, the two of you decided to call it quits! With a wide grin, you snuck a glance over at Vlad, who finally managed to seal his first chocolate delight in the mochi skin. You clapped your hands and praised him with a ‘bravo.’

After carefully putting your newly made treat into the picnic basket, you turned to Vlad with an impish glimmer in your eyes. “You have a little chocolate right here,” you gestured to the man, startings of a cunning smile falling across your lips.

With a thoughtful hum, he brought his knuckle up to wipe the spot on his cheek, but it was of little use as you simply giggled and shook your head.

“Did I get it?” he asked, crimson eyes looking down at you with nothing but pure love and affection.

Your smile widened, turning Cheshire as you reached your tiny hand covered in chocolate to his face, to leave a playful smear, “nope, it’s right here,” you said, biting back the laughter that threatened to spill from your chest.

“A cunning one, I see,” came his response, with eyes lit up. Before you could jump back, he dipped his fingers in the bowl of chocolate and swiped them across your cheek with a smear to match.

Chimelike laughter filled the kitchen as you and Vlad continued to worsen its state with the third natural disaster of the day, this time in the form of chocolate finger painting. The end of the new battle was marked when Vlad leaned down to steal a kiss from your lips mid-attack. “Sweet,” he remarked with a twinkle in his eye, hand moving from your check to delicate take hold of yours.

“Happy birthday, Draga mea,” the words befell his lips, followed by another tender kiss on the forehead. You responded in kind by giving his hand a squeeze,” shall we go out and have that picnic in the garden? I am rather excited to try these mochis.”

“Anything for you, my love,” he spoke with an affectionate squeeze of the hand, leading you to your favourite spot in the garden.

#And that marks the end of the appreciation weekend #eeeeeek #Happy birthday to the cutest!#heheh and rip me for destroying vlad this weekend #vlad x reader #ikevamp vlad x reader #ikevamp vlad #eeeeek spoiler alert your brownies and cheesecake loook sooo damn good!#gaaaaah #hehehe i hope you had a good day neeemo!

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captainkirkmccoy · 4 years ago

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It seems that wherever Leonard McCoy turns, Jim Kirk is there.

He’s doing a short temp shift at the library--he needs the extra credits stat--when Jim shows up at the reference desk, a pile of actual books nearly blocking his face.

He ignores the books--that’s the rare item librarian’s job and goes back to checking in the holo texts. “Don’t you have class or admirals to annoy?”

“I already stopped by Archer’s. Did you know his beagle had puppies?”

“You need to talk to L’tan if you want to check those out.” Leonard tells him.

“These are mine.” Jim’s almost constant open expression morphs into one of mock offense.

“Huh.” McCoy submits a few late charges for holos not turned in on time and sits back, happy to have finished before the end of his shift. “Let me guess? The karma sutra and Vulcan mating ritual guide?”

“No, smartass.”

Jim slides a book across the desk. It’s in good condition, with a protective wrapping around the hardcover, another surprise, and not a book on sex or eroticism.

“The House In The Cerulean Sea?”

“Seriously, one of the best books to come out of 21st century Terran literature. Followed closely--and by the same publisher!--” Jim slides another book.

“Gideon the Ninth?”

“Really fucking incredible. I’m writing a whole paper on it for a class right now on 21st Century Terran literature with a focus set in space.” At Leonard’s eyebrow lift, Jim shrugs. “It’s an elective.”

“And you’re showing them to me why?”

Jim makes a face at him, like a puppy denied a treat.

“Thought you might be interested. Never mind!”

Before he can say anything, he swipes the books, nearly dropping a few in the process and walks off. He leaves Gideon the Ninth. McCoy curses.

***

Two days later and he’s accosted by Gaila as he’s drinking shitty replicator coffee and the saddest cinnamon roll he’s ever tried to digest.

“Hello Leonard.” She says, stealing a chair across for him like they have a standing lunch.

“Hello, Gaila.”

He picks at the cinnamon roll before giving up entirely.

“You hurt his feelings.”

Leonard isn’t dumb, so of course he knows who she’s talking about. “Jim Kirk has more feelings than a Vulcan on opposite day.”

“He likes you.”

Leonard sputters on his tepid coffee. “We’re not in second grade, Gaila!”

“James is an awkward bean, Leonard. He is used to waggling his eyebrows for sex and if you’re well--you, that doesn’t seem to work.”

He considers this. “I thought he was having a fit.”

“And, he doesn’t just want sex from you. He wants friendship. More than that. You’re the first person--besides me and Captain Pike, of course, who doesn’t look at him and see his father, for better or worse.”

“The kid’s never around for me to really get to know. And when he does show up--I’m kind of busy.” Leonard admits. He shows up at all of Leonard’s shifts--the clinic with a broken nose, Admiral Archer’s office with random questions, the cafeteria when he doesn’t eat anything, his library shift--

“The books?”

“Do you know we met when he gave me a book--an Orion book of poetry, one of his favorites. It was the first physical thing I had of home since leaving.”

She looks over his shoulder for a moment, eyes tracking a memory but then she blinks, focusing back on Leonard.

“His Orion is a little rusty but we spent hours talking about it. It was lovely.” She smiles, content at this new memory, rewriting the one from before.\

He drums his hands on the table, thinking. “Okay.”

“You know what you need to do, yes?” Gaila says.

He does.

****

It takes him five hours, six bookstores and antique shops and one shady, alley dealing to find what he’s looking for.

And then another two hours, one embarrassing conversation with Archer’s assistant and getting lost in the Academy’s underground tunnels before he finds Jim.

“Sit! Sit. No, thank you for the kisses but no. Sit!”

The small basement space that was once a bunker for admirals in early Starfleet days now looks like a puppy daycare.

A long blue plastic tunnel bisects the space, with small hoops and a slide. In a pen sits Jim and around Jim are squirmy, tiny beagle puppies.

“Is this your repayment to Archer for making his last assistant quit?” Leonard asks.

Jim leans his head back to look at him upside down. A puppy takes this opportunity to bounce and Jim finds himself attacked by the cutest beagle army Starfleet has ever seen. Leonard is not as coldhearted as he thinks and reaches down to take one adorable puppy who yawns in Leonard’s face and then licks his chin.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” McCoy gestures to a bag he abandoned on the floor. “You forgot Gideon the Ninth.”

“Nah, you can keep it.” Jim tosses a training toy to the corner of the pen and the puppies fall over themselves to get to it.

“I can keep a 300 year old Terran book in pristine condition?”

“Just thought you might like it.”

Leonard rolls his eyes but can’t help but grinning. “Sorry bud.” He tells the puppy and puts him down among his litter-mates before reaching into the bag to pull out his offering.

He hands it to Jim.

“Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy in Vulcan. Bones, are you shitting me right now?”

“I am not.” Leonard doesn’t even try to hide his grin. He needs to send Gaila a thank you as soon as possible.

“And, holllllly shit, it’s signed by the translator.”

Jim is up and out of the pen, crashing him with a hug.

“My dad used to read me this book when I was a kid. Figured you could use a challenge.”

“Thank you.” Jim says, clutching the book to his chest like it was a missing piece of himself he didn’t know he had forgotten.

It doesn’t take them long after to become inseparable. They spend time down in the agility room with the puppies, reading to each other from their favorite books, spending free weekends tracking down obscure copies in bookstores along the coast. And it becomes a tradition on their anniversary. Bones--he becomes Bones pretty quickly--even proposes to Jim with a book, their love language becoming the physical print of words, the musky pages preserved over generations, a reminder of their beginning.

***

For @brevityis, who asked for fluff.

#mckirk #fluff #jim kirk x bones #jim kirk/bones #jim kirk/leonard mccoy #jim kirk x leonard mccoy #star trek fic #brevityis

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script-nef · 5 years ago

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Your Kisses Makes It Go NEON | Hinata Shouyou

Inspiration: [NEON — DPR LIVE]

Category: fluff

5.7k words; colours decorate your time with Hinata

Very late birthday present for our ray of sunshine. Sorry ;^;

When Hinata thinks about you, he remembers colours.

He met you only a few months after arriving in Japan. Bokuto was going on about a bar he frequents with Akaashi, exclaiming how “the atmosphere is really relaxing and comfortable! You could spend 2 hours there and it would only feel like a few minutes have passed! Also the bartender there is a really cute girl and she’s super sweet! Her drinks are incredible!"

Hinata was never fond of alcoholic drinks—they tasted weird and had a gross aftertaste—but accepted the offer at the promise of non-alcoholic ones. (He later realises this is one of the best decisions he made in his life.)

Which was why the normally rambunctious group sat quietly—well, not that quiet. That was impossible with the combination of Bokuto and Hinata, but they tried at least—at the counter, as they skimmed through the menu filled with pictures of multi-coloured drinks. Some of the drinks had such bizarre names (Hinata’s face exploded with red when he read "Sex on the Beach” because what kind of a drink is that?) and none of them looked particularly appealing.

A soft tap on the shoulder shook Hinata out of his contemplation, and he was met with the softest eyes when he looked up. You smiled at him.

"Do you need help choosing?“

He couldn’t answer that properly.

The blue top you wore suited you perfectly, a toned-down yet vibrant colour. It contrasted against the deep red of the wallpapers, and the dim lighting made you glow almost ethereal. It somehow felt like you belonged there, like you were the centrepiece.

You snapped him out of his reverie by explaining various drinks to him, what the ingredients were and how strong it was, trying to figure out what type of drink he wanted. Which was nice of you, and he really appreciated it, but he couldn’t understand anything other than the sound of your voice.

He heard pink—soft, warm, soothing and so, so sweet—and it drowned out everything else. His teammates bickering and trying to grab your attention, the mellow classical music in the background, even his own heartbeat. It was all dissipating, leaving just you and him in a bubble of calm.

And he couldn’t help but hope to hear your voice every day.

Hinata started frequenting your bar. ("My cousin’s the actual owner.” You told him on his third visit. “But I helped him decorate, so I feel like it’s mine as well.”) He still doesn’t like alcohol and you laughed when he described the tastes. He then realised that it was rude to complain about it to a bartender and began apologising profusely, but you just waved it off.

"It’s okay, not everyone likes the same things. There’s a wide variety of non-alcoholic drinks for you to enjoy. Like this one.“ You slid a mocktail over, and he beamed before sipping away at the yellow drink. The flavours burst on his tongue, and words could never fully encompass these sensations. A zesty explosion which reminded him of the beach and his experience in Brazil. Hinata sometimes wondered if you were a witch. Surely an ordinary person couldn’t evoke so many memories and emotions from a mere drink.

He couldn’t stop himself as he let out a content sigh, his face morphing into that of utter bliss. Every drink you made was yellow or orange, as vibrant as the sun and somehow tasted like them too. He asked you about it and you just giggled in response.

"It’s because you remind me of the sunshine, Hinata-san. You have an unbelievable amount of energy and unbridled happiness, it’s hard not to think of it when I look at you. Whenever you visit, I feel like I’m getting a vitamin D boost and it gets me through the next few days. And… the fact that your hair is orange really solidifies the image.”

He moved to touch his hair almost self-consciously, but you stopped him in his tracks by blurting out, “It suits you! Your hair, I mean. It helps you stand out in your matches and… you look adorable."

That stopped Hinata in his tracks. You looked away from him, cheeks dusted with red as you cleaned a cup. Hinata’s brain started spinning faster than ever. She just called me cute. No, wait, it was adorable but they’re synonyms. She just said I’m cute. And she watches our matches! Oh God, that means she watched all those times I couldn’t receive the ball properly. The insanely nice and pretty girl has seen some of my worst moments on the court.

"Do you… watch our games, [Surname]-san?” Hinata asked tentatively. Oh God, what if she watched the one where I fell over after I tried to receive it or the match against Inarizaki when I forgot to hit the ball?

"Just some of them. Bokuto-san kept on asking me to watch him play and… I gave in when you came. I kind of got hooked onto it after watching you, Hinata-san.“ With that, you scurried off by using another customer as an excuse, whispering a soft "excuse me”. He watched you walk away, gaining the courage to finally do what he should have done weeks ago.

You came back by the time his drink was finished, a smile replacing the blush and asking if the drink was to his taste. He replied the same way as always, “All your drinks are delicious!”

That never failed to put a smile on your face. A small grin bloomed, and Hinata took this as an opportunity.

"[Surname]-san, I wanted to ask if you were busy this Saturday? I recently found this place called Aobayama Botanical Gardens nearby and you said you like this sort of stuff, so I was wondering if you would like to come.“ Your eyes widened at that. Is he… asking me out? No, wait, don’t get ahead of yourself. Because, surely, this amazingly friendly and loveable national-level athlete would choose to spend his time with someone equally talented and amazing, right? But Hinata’s eyes were full of determination and hope, so much that it pushed you to confront your feelings as well.

"I would be delighted to take you up on that offer.” You quickly grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled your number onto it. “Here’s my number. I’m free in the mornings, so… just give me a time, I guess."

As he stumbled out of the bar, Hinata couldn’t stop the excitement and anticipation bubbling throughout his veins, amazed at how easy that was. He let out a whoop that echoed throughout the street and ran home, desperately wishing time would flow faster.

His stomach was warm and fuzzy, and it really did feel like he drank the sun.

The 5th "date” (not officially though, since neither of you ever called it that) to a park had been cut short due to sudden downpour.

"Hinata, it’s okay if you get water on the floor! Get inside and close the door!“ Hinata hurriedly locked the door, glad to be out of the freezing shower and fierce wind. He slowly walked through the apartment, mumbling "excuse me” to no one as you were currently running around, trying to clean up and turn on the heating. A sneeze escaped him.

"Hinata, are you okay?“ You reached for his arm, only to recoil at the contact. "You’re freezing! You’ll get a cold at this rate.” You pulled him towards the bathroom, picking up some towels along the way. He was left standing on a mat in the bathroom while you ran off again. He looked around the room, taking in the details. There were small plants on the windowsill and various cosmetics littering the sink. The room smelled like you. …That was weird. Ugh, I shouldn’t be thinking that!

You came back holding a pile of clothing. “It’s my cousin’s, I don’t know if it’ll fit you though. It’s all been cleaned recently so don’t worry about that. Take a shower and I’ll have something warm ready by the time you’re done.” He opened his mouth to say “thank you”, but all that came out was another sneeze. You let out a soft shriek. “Shower! Now, Hinata! You’re an athlete, you can’t be sick!” You slammed the door on your way out.

—

The clothes fit him fine. When he came out, you were in the kitchen, stirring a cup.

"Ah, Hinata. Here you go, hot chocolate and some snacks. Sorry, but I have to go and shower as well. You can watch TV or read my books.“ You disappeared into your room, his calls of "You should have showered first! Thank you!” echoing in the hallway. He took a sip, enjoying the warmth travelling down his throat.

He scanned the house, immediately noticing the incredible amount of greenery you had on display and tucked in corners. Small slivers of light from the windows reflected off the leaves and basked the room in a soft green tone. There were a few he remembered from your trips to various gardens, (probably because he hung from your words like they were the most interesting information on earth) and some he couldn’t. He knew you would be able to recite the name, scientific name, meaning and other interesting facts as soon as he asked. You had an avid fascination for flora and alcoholic drinks, which was usually an odd combination but it suited you perfectly.

You came out soon, changed into comfortable sleepwear, and saw him stroking a leaf. It felt kind of weird, having your crush in your house. It’s not like it was hard for Hinata to creep his way into your heart, what with his brilliant smile and incessant energy. He was genuinely interested in everything you said even if it was trivial, like what you had for lunch or rowdy customers who are a pain. And you desperately wanted to let him into your life, to confess your affections for him. But what if you gave him your heart and it ends like last time? Hinata won’t do that, but… That’s what I thought before as well… No! Nope, let’s not think about that. You opted to sneak behind the unsuspecting boy, pushing the thoughts into a corner of your mind.

"That’s a Chinese money plant.“ Hinata shrieked at your sudden presence behind him. ”Pilea peperomioides, but I find the name pancake plant cuter. Come here, you need to dry your hair off. Can’t have you getting sick with a match next month.“ You sat on the sofa while he sat on the floor in front of you, giving full access to his damp mop of hair.

You rubbed at it gently with a fresh towel, admiring the orange locks. It became fluffy and bouncy so quickly. You loved it.

“[Surname]-chan?” You hummed. “Can I ask why you have so many plants?” Your hands stopped moving against his hair at that, and Hinata stiffened as well. It was only for a split second though, and you continued your ministrations.

“I like taking care of them, I guess. I used to date this person… and uh, it didn’t end that well. They weren’t that good of a person, let alone a partner. They just kept saying how lucky I was to be with them and that no-one else would love me… How much they hated my voice… But my cousin, the one that owns the bar, he helped me move over here away from them. He also introduced me to plant therapy to help me and well… It got out of hand, I guess.” You let out a soft chuckle, but it was laced with sadness and regret. “I’m sorry, this is a depressing topic, isn’t it? You don’t have to listen to all of my rambling, just forget about this.”

“I love you!” You looked down at him in surprise. Hinata’s face heated up, mouth set into a determined grin in order to not show how much he’s embarrassed by his sudden outburst. He clambered onto the sofa, gripping both of your hand tightly in his. “[Surname]-chan, don’t ever think or listen to anyone like that! I know we met only half a year ago, but you are one of the most kind and understanding and enthusiastic and strong person I have ever seen! These plants symbolise your strength and hope for a better future, so who cares if you have fifty or a hundred? You deserve the world and everything in it, and I…” He paused, squeezing your hands even tighter. “I love you! I’ve liked you since we met for the first time at your bar, my heart just stopped when I first saw you and all I could think when you talked to me was how much I love your voice!”

Hinata’s face was absolutely ablaze now, red covering every inch of his skin, but his steady gaze was filled with nothing but sincerity. “It’s getting repetitive but I really, really love you! And I… I want you to know that I would never treat you like that, and I’ll always tell you how much you brighten up my day by just texting me, or how cute your unending enthusiasm for your plants are. So… if you’re willing to trust me… will you go out with me?” The blushing settled down and Hinata’s lips were trembling slightly, fearing for the worst.

You were quiet, blinking owlishly at him. Seconds, which felt more like hours to Hinata, ticked past and silence continued. Hinata’s burst of confidence started to shrivel at your lack of response. Ah, maybe… maybe I’m too fast. She’s not comfortable and I’m pushing her too far! He retracted his hands from yours, moving away from the sofa.

“[Surname]-chan, I’m sorry, I’ll lea-”

“Wait!” You grabbed onto his hand, pulling him back onto the sofa. He fell with a soft “oof” and you crawled over to him. “Yes.” He stared at you.

“…Yes?” You nodded firmly, lips quirking into a delighted smile.

“Yes.”

Hinata froze for a moment before exploding into a happy squeal, arms wrapping around you and giggling into your neck. You wound your arms around his body as well, nudging your nose into the side of his face. Peals of laughter escaped from your lips. You could feel his heart thudding rapidly against your chest.

He pulled back to cover your cheeks with his hands before squealing delightedly once more and peppered kisses onto your face.

“Ahhh I’m so happy [Name]-chan!! I swear I’ll be the bestest boyfriend you’ve ever had!!”

And you don’t doubt him.

Cheers echoed throughout the stadium as Hinata spiked down the last point needed for the set and the game. His team crowded around him, with the exception of Sakusa, congratulating each other for another win. Hinata escaped from all the head rubs and back pats, eyes shifting to where you sat. You waved upon eye contact, yelling something out which was muted under everyone else’s screams.

His heart swelled, thudding hard against his chest and about to escape through his mouth. He put the sensation on pause, remembering to show his respect to the opposing team and to respond to various reporters. He really tried to give a coherent reply to the interviewer’s questions. He really did. But the amount of energy in him even after playing five full sets was threatening to explode at the thought of you.

The reporter finally thanked him for his time and Hinata wasted no time after bowing and rushed to you. He leapt over the small barricade and engulfed you in his arms, enjoying the feel of your skin and the smell of your perfume. People clamoured around you two, surprised the star player would suddenly barge into the crowd. He heard his teammates whistling cheekily, probably taking pictures to embarrass him later. But you were more important right now.

You ripped yourself away from his grasp, delight and amazement in your eyes. "Shouyou! Oh my god, that was so amazing how you spiked it down and wow, the videos don’t do you any justice at all! My eyes could barely follow you from all your running and jumping!” You babbled on about his performance, thanking him repeatedly for the ticket. He beamed so brilliantly, it was nearly blinding.

“Thanks, [Name]-chan! I’m so glad you came to watch!” And also that I didn’t make any mistakes in front of you. Hinata honestly thought he would shrivel in shame if he made a reckless mistake—such as the one a few months ago, when he stumbled over nothing and didn’t make it in time for the spike. (You commented about it a few days ago. He was mortified that his girlfriend—he still can’t believe you’re his girlfriend—saw such an embarrassing moment.)

You had shined brightly under the stadium lights, contrasting the black top with black slacks you were wearing. “It’s because I’m rooting for your team!” You said that just before the match, grasping his hand in yours. You hadn’t wished him good luck, “because I know you’re going to win this, Shouyou! You don’t need luck!” His heart rate had skyrocketed at your confidence in him, giving him the extra adrenaline to win the game 3:2. Even the commentators had noticed the excess energy he had, but it had been kind of obvious since he was jumping around everywhere without a break and didn’t look tired at all.

Ah, I love her so much. The thought filled Hinata’s head. He heard his teammates calling for him, yelling that he needed to change out of his sweaty uniform, but it felt like his limbs were physically attached to you. He just wanted to stay in this moment, high on adrenaline and your love for him. You gently pried him off, promising to meet him at the entrance of the stadium so you could finish the day with a date.

He nodded gleefully, taking one last look at you before, very reluctantly, detaching himself from you. He noticed the red lipstick you were wearing, the one he bought for you last week because yours had broken the day before. It took him the whole day with Yachi because there were so many shades and tones and something called hues? He didn’t even understand half of them, but he tried his best to find one which was a similar colour to your previous one. The smile on your face when he presented it to you was worth floundering around for the whole day.

You wore it constantly and Hinata was delighted that it suited your taste so well. Just as he was about to walk away, he turned back to quickly press a kiss onto your lips, taking some of the makeup when he pulled away. The whole stadium, spectators and players alike, gawked at his action, many blushing at the PDA and others squealing.

Your face burst into a flaming red as Hinata casually walked away, like he didn’t just kiss you. On camera. Which is live right now. Like literally, right now. In front of thousands of people and probably thousands more on the other sides of countless monitors.

Hundreds of articles and reports were made, headlines congratulating the Black Jackals for another win while displaying his beaming face with smudges of red on his lips. You could be seen in the background, crouching with your face buried in your hands.

(You reprimanded him severely for his actions, but more kisses being poured onto your lips cut it short.)

Shouyou loves your enthusiasm for celebrating special occasions. Christmas, Cherry Blossom Festival, New Year’s Day, Valentine’s Day, Obon. You once took a day off and whisked him off to Sapporo for the Snow Festival. He treasures the memory of your amazed face admiring the snow sculptures. He tried to make one for you but it ended up as a misshapen lump of ice. A photograph you managed to snap before it melted in his palm is pinned onto the large cork board in the living room.

But your favourite celebration by far is Halloween, or “All Hallow’s Eve, the beginning of Allhallowtide and the day to remember the dead! AKA the perfect day to stuff myself with sweets and pumpkin pies with no one to say anything to me!” as you called it. He video-taped the second time you repeated the grand announcement, giggling at your theatrics. Halloween always brought out your inner silliness.

The third Halloween together was no different. He returned home from his training to be met with cobwebs and cutout bats decorating the walls, illuminated by candles lining the shelves and cupboards. Sweet and savoury smells assaulted his nose and you peeked out from the kitchen.

“Shouyou? You’re back earlier than I thought. Come on, and watch the candles, I made a Halloween themed dinner!” The table was packed with different foods, which was… unsettling, at least to others. A bowl of pasta topped off with eyeball meatballs, a blood-red beef stew, chicken soup with pastry hands hanging out… Shouyou remembered his first Halloween with you, when he nearly fainted. But he learnt the charm of Halloween thanks to your overflowing interest in the day and now he loves it as much as you.

“This looks amazing, [Name]-chan!” He noticed your costume—a long, flowing black dress and an equally dark cape hung off your shoulder. The ensemble was topped off with a crooked hat. “A witch! Aw, you’re so pretty.” You pecked him on the lips.

“Correct and thank you. Your costume is in the bedroom, Shou-chan.” He perked up at that, dashing to the room after returning your kiss. He returned soon with his outfit: a white shirt tucked underneath a red corset along with black slacks and a black cape, just like yours.

“[Name]-chan, it’s like a couple’s outfit!” He swished the cape around, flapping it like wings while running around the room. “I could be your bat familiar!”

“Shouyou.” You had a reprimanding scowl on. “You’re making dust fly around. It’s going to go on the food!” He stopped with a “Sorry!” and took his seat on the small dining table, mouth watering at the sight. While other friends might be put off due to the visuals of your creation, nothing mattered to Shouyou other than your efforts and the taste. Which is always phenomenal.

You took a seat opposite of him, laying down mason jars filled with red liquids and eyeballs for the both of you. A chorus of “Itadakimasu!” rang through the house as you both dug into the food.

Shouyou let out an unidentifiable noise of at the perfectly prepared dinner. He shovelled different pieces of food in, uncaring of his table manners. You laughed and reached over to wipe his mouth. Mid-way through the meal, he grumbled in annoyance as the cape collar kept poking him in the cheek and opted to remove it for the time being. Then the corset, even though it was supposed to be loose, as it was pushing down on his stomach.

By the time he tapped out, half the food on the table was finished and moans of “I can’t… eat… anymore…” escaped him and you giggled in response. His dramatics never ceased to amuse you.

“Shou-chan, help me clean the table please. We have to finish one last activity before turning in for the night.” He replied in groans. “Shou-chan! I promise you’re going to love this, but I need you to help me. Come on, just wrap them up and move them to the fridge, please.” He reluctantly lifted his head from the table and followed your orders, carefully sealing the dishes off.

By the time he moved all the food, the table was covered with spare newspapers and a huge pumpkin was laid on top of it. He gasped at the sight, realisation dawning on him. “Are we making a jack-o’-lantern?!” When you nodded in confirmation, a shriek of delight left him. You immediately calmed him down, reminding him that this is an apartment and people can hear him. It did nothing to stop his energy.

“Shou-chan, you do know that this requires knife work and I can’t give it to you if you’re this fidgety, right?” That seemed to work. He immediately stopped his restlessness, giving you puppy eyes as if to say “I won’t misbehave”. You knew it wouldn’t even last for 5 minutes.

The process of pumpkin carving actually turns out to be quite easy and smooth-sailing despite Shouyou’s absolute lack of self-control and abundance of impulsiveness. He would have eaten all of the scooped out pumpkin fillings if you didn’t stop him in time. Instead, it was dropped into your pot for a “special dish”. While it simmered on the stove, you took over to carve the face out of the pumpkin as you won the argument of “who has steadier hands and better carving skills”. Your boyfriend seemed content enough trying to pick the right candle to place inside.

“Ta-da! Done! And done quite well if I say so myself.” Shouyou looked up from his collection of candles and smiled brilliantly at your handiwork. It was a crow, its wings outstretched like it was soaring through the sky. “Do you like it? I remembered you saying your high-school team’s symbol was a crow so… I practised making it perf—”

He pulled your body into his, gripping tightly as if you were going to dissipate away. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. I don’t understand how lucky I am to have you… I love you so much [Name]-chan. So, so much.” He mumbled against your neck. You chuckled softly and ran your fingers through his hair.

“It’s the same for me, Shouyou. I’m fortunate to have you brighten up my life, to have someone like you love me.”

A candle was dropped into the finished pumpkin, the light orange light enveloping the two of you as you cuddled on the sofa. Confessions of love drifted through the air as your lips pressed against his repeatedly, something gentle and warm unfurling between your hearts.

You couldn’t ask for anything more.

Shouyou received three months of paid leave. It was to help him recover from his (“slightly!”) sprained wrist and also for his non-stop involvements in all the matches so far. Fans wanted to plead for him to take a break every now and then, but seeing his joyful face on the court made them swallow down their complaints. So when the notice of his brief leave became official, the comment section was filled with encouragements and “have fun with your girlfriend!”

Which was why he planned three months’ worth of travelling—from Japan to South Korea to Iran to Russia to Poland to Italy to France to the US to Brazil to Argentina and back—with you accompanying him. You gladly accepted his invitation, full of anticipation at exploring through the various countries. You asked about the odd destination choices, which he replied with a mumble of “…they have high-ranking volleyball teams.” His enthusiasm for the sport, even when he was injured, never ceased to amaze you.

“I’m glad you’re making the most of this time, Shou.” Your fingers carded through his hair while rubbing it dry. This became one of his favourite activities with you, other than snuggling and kissing. Or sleeping together. Or getting into tickle fights. Or eating together. (He just loves everything he does with you.)

“Yep! This will be an amazing opportunity to see all the other athletes! I already called them and they all said yes! But… are you fine with it?” He peeked up from his spot underneath you. “I want you to enjoy this trip as well, not just because I’m forcing you to come with me.” You smiled and placed a kiss on his nose.

“Of course I’m fine, Shou. As long as you don’t leave me alone the whole time for volleyball, I guess.” He spluttered an “Of course not! I’ll only watch them for a couple of hours, all the rest of our time can be used for sight-seeing! I bet this trip is going to be life-changing!”

And it was. Shouyou’s mornings were spent in various stadiums, eyes digging into each player’s forms like a hawk. Turning practice match offers down was practically torture for him, but he couldn’t play against them to due to his injury. When his thoughts of “I can play just this once!” surfaced, his promise with you of “no playing until your finger is fully healed” interrupted him. And he would sooner die than ever break a promise with you.

He would then return to the hotel around lunch to cuddle and share a meal with you. You would be stuck in the bed due to jet lag—how Shouyou managed to be so unaffected when you were half-dead is a mystery—but a few kisses and you would be as wide awake.

The afternoon was used to explore the city, ranging from famous land-marks to small eateries which was recommended to him via comments. (His fans around the world were so helpful.) He held your hand as you weaved through the streets and squeezed through large crowds, gripping firmly as if to say “I’m never letting you go.” Small souvenirs were bought by sets and hundreds of photos were taken to be weeded through and uploaded onto social media. Each city in each country was scouted the same way, and it was honestly paradise on Earth.

“Shou, there’s somewhere I want to go.” You whispered to him on the last night of your stay in Brazil. He moved so that he would be laying at eye-level to you, his body pressing onto yours. “It might mess up the schedule a bit, but there’s somewhere I really, really want to go. It’ll only take a day out of our stay in Argentina.” Your eyes sparkled despite the darkness of the night. “Is that okay?”

“Of course.”

—

The tour bus was comfier than you expected, gliding across the paved road in the middle of nowhere. Shouyou slept soundly next to you, face half-covered with thick blankets and fluffy pillows. You pulled a hand out from your cocoon of warmth, gently tracing his facial features. His serene face was rare, even when he was sleeping as it normally contorted to match whatever dreams he was having.

A wave of affection washed over you, threatening to drown your senses. Ah, how did I get so lucky? To be with someone this kind, this understanding and this loving. You placed a small kiss on his lips, jostling him awake as the bus slowed down to a stop. He let out a yawn, noticing the proximity of your face to him and gave you a quick peck.

“[Name]-chan? Why have we stopped?” The driver turned on weak lights, awakening other passengers as well. Shouyou leapt up from his seat, grabbing his jumper and yours at the driver’s words. “We’re here! Come on, we need to go!” Your eyes lit up in delight as you took his hand, bounding out of the bus.

The wide expanse of Uyuni’s salt flat greeted you. The night sky was clear, illuminated by the Milky Way and its countless stars. The usually dry plain was wet thanks to a timely shower a couple of hours ago, reflecting the lights off the crystalline ground like an enormous mirror.

The heavy smell of salt assaulted your nose as you stepped onto the ground, softly cracking as you walked on it. Shouyou was right next to you, eye glimmering at the ineffable sight before him. You ventured to the middle of the plain, leaving the gasps of delight and bewilderment of other travellers.

The violet sky was everywhere, underneath your feet and above you. Shouyou caught up, hugging you from behind and squeezing softly.

“I understand why you wanted to come. This is beyond beautiful.” He whispered into your ear, eyes gazing off into the distance. You nodded softly. It felt right, underneath the spotless sky and in the arms of your lover. This is the moment.

Shouyou ripped his arms off of your body at the sensation on his finger. A gold band sat on his finger, glimmering in the starlight. He gaped at it, eyes wide in astonishment. His mouth repeated to open and close, unable to find the correct words as his mind went blank.

“[Name]-chan?! What’s this?!” He shrieked at you, finally finding his voice. “Wh-what what. What. Am I dreaming? Did you just- is this-” You laughed at his flustered state, falling into his embrace while he didn’t take his eyes off the piece of jewellery.

“Yes, Shouyou. It is.” You held him at arm’s length, a hand cupped on his cheek. “The last 5 years with you were… indescribable. You never stopped showering me with affection, always made me feel loved and accepted me for who I am. I never felt neglected despite your constant absence for volleyball… if anything, you motivated me with your endless enthusiasm for the sport. I can’t imagine what my life would have been like if I hadn’t met you, nor one without you.” You smiled softly, wiping the tears trickling down his cheeks. “So, Hinata Shouyou—the love of my life, my heart and soul—will you marry me?”

Dry heaving and shuddering cries left his mouth as he nodded, broken declarations of love and “yes” mumbled against your lips in between hitched gasps for air. You kissed him back, giggling at his unending affection.

“I’ll… I’ll do my best to make you happy for— for the rest of your life.”

“I know you will, my love. I will too.”

Life changing trip indeed.

blue,

pink,

yellow,

green,

red,

orange,

violet,

you.

#hinata x reader #hinata imagine #hinata shouyou x reader #hinata shouyou imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu!! one shot #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hinata #hinata shouyou #fluff #insp: birthday #insp: song #female reader

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dorevenge · 3 years ago

Text

where ignorance is bliss - chapter 4: except the willow

SUMMARY: Maria is forcefully escorted from the betting room, when she encounters the owner of the casino himself. [AO3 LINK]

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3 [4] 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 ☆

November 20, 1959 – Monaco, France, The Hellfire Club

I’ve never thought about my what last words would be. I had always assumed I would be 98, having aged better than brie, lying in bed surrounded by my family, my curls perfectly falling around my face, with a pristine pale pink lipstick and pearls on my neck and diamonds on my ears. I’d have outlived my husband, as I’ve always flocked towards older men, but I would see him reflected in my great-grandchildren, one of whom would have shared my philanthropic interests. I’d leave them all with some well-planned poetry, a single sentence that would change every one of their lives, resound in them and inspire them to change their actions for the better, but, as of now, due to my arrogant foolishness, my last words were to be “I’d rather stay here and keep losing.” And no one would remember them.

Thick arms wrap around mine, hiking me up by the armpits, and I am escorted out of the casino and through the hotel lobby, my high heels scrambling to make purchase on the ground below me. The few people scattered in the lobby pause to look at me, and then keep walking. The fun from the baccarat game has dwindled, the rosiness falling from my cheeks and panic settling in my chest. I couldn’t pull against them; there’s no way I could win in a fight even with some of Peggy’s training. I should have taken her up on her thigh holster offer.

The men stop briefly at the front desk. “What room is Ms. Carbonell staying in?”

“Obadiah won’t let you get away with this,” I grit, my arms pinned behind my back.

“Mr. Stane is currently preoccupied.” One of the men asks for a spare key, and the desk attendant fumbles in the cabinet to find the correct one.

A man in glasses walks past, tall but not intimidating, broad-shouldered but not bulky, nose buried in a pile of papers in his hands, and glances up, pausing to evaluate the scene. Our eyes make contact, and it takes him a second to evaluate my panic.

“Do you need any help, madam?”

“She’s fine,” one of the suited men replies. I’m too startled to scream, or speak, or even think at all. All I can hope is that someone in the lobby reads my face and intervenes. Grumbling, they forgo the key, and pull me out of the hotel lobby towards the parking lot.

This is how I’m going to die, I think, reminiscing what a waste finishing school was since I never learned to hold my tongue anyway, and it is my penchant for petty remarks sending me to an early grave. I can’t keep up with their pace, my high heels catching in almost every dent in the asphalt, and I almost lose my balance several times.

We approach a long, sleek black car with darkened windows, and I finally start calling out, “Obie! Obadiah!” to the empty parking lot, writhing against the arms around me.

“Ms. Carbonell! I think you dropped an earring.” The voice comes from behind. It’s the man in glasses, walking swiftly, with authority, except for the little cowlick of dark black hair on the right side of his head, twirling in the breeze as he stalks forward.

The men holding me turn to confront him as he takes off his glasses and slides them into his breast pocket. The men’s postures drop and their faces fall. Their grip on me lessens. He runs a hand through his hair and stares them down.

“Mr. Stark.”

“Release Ms. Carbonell at once.”

“We’re sorry, Mr. Stark, she-”

“You do know what at once means, don’t you, boys?”

They release me.

“I cannot apologize enough, Ms. Carbonell, for the behavior of these men. If they offend you again, I will personally write to their employers.” He looks at each one of them sternly, in turn.

One of the men stiffens defiantly. “We didn’t recognize you, Mr. Stark. In the betting room-”

“When you are the one who owns the casino, only then should you be concerned about its finances.” Stark’s stern face softens when he turns to me, offering me his elbow. He nods at each man with authority, and they shrink away. My heart is still racing, and I still must not be thinking straight, because I loop my arm through his, my life in the hands of yet another stranger.

The dinner at one of the restaurants inside Hellfire is delectable, but dining with the owner probably helps. There were too many options on the menu that I eventually pointing to something at random and ordered that. I had very little to say, besides non merci to the waiters who kept offering us champagne and thanking Mr. Stark for his kindness. The anxiety has set into my bones and I can’t help but fidget.

“I already told you, Maria, just call me Howard.” Up close, I can see that he’s older, probably in his forties. Creases line his eyes and mouth, probably from charming the pants off too many investors, and the investors’ wives.

“Okay, Howard, does wearing glasses actually work? To go unnoticed.” I peer at him over the top of my waterglass.

“It does. Works wonders. I had read about it in a comic and wanted to give it a try. People act different when their boss is lurking around the corner, and sometimes I just want to be a guest in my own hotel.”

A waitress clears Howard’s empty plate, leaving my full one, and she brings the dessert menu to him. Without looking at it, he hands it back to her, ordering two beignets. She asks if we need anything else, chest puffed high and smiling bright, and Howard responds in near-perfect French without looking away from me. The waiter walks away, dejected, her hopes of charming the billionaire dashed.

I pick at the dish, too rich for my current anxious appetite. My anxiety hadn’t run out of fuel yet. “What’s eating you, doll?”

“Why were those men watching me? And where were they going to take me? I wasn’t cheating.”

“I know you weren’t cheating.”

“You know? How?”

“There are cameras everywhere in the game rooms, tiny ones in lamps and plants and around every corner. They can tell when someone is cheating, and your moves seemed very intentional. And putting money in my pocket isn’t exactly cheating.” I don’t ask how the cameras would be able to tell, as I’ve been to two of his expos now and haven’t understood any of the gadgets presented. Any explanation would just go over my head. I wonder how many cameras litter the restaurant.

He doesn’t answer my question and instead asks one of his own. “Why were you spending your partner’s money like that?”

My partner. That’s right, I am technically in business with Obadiah; we’ve kept our short engagement to ourselves, and he’s always introduced me as his accountant. I slide my hands into my lap to hide the ring on my finger, and slide the ring off once it’s out of view. “My answer to your question might be the same as your answer to mine.”

Howard’s face lights up, and he leans forward on the table to get a better look at me. “So you’re clever, too, and not just pretty.” He doesn’t ask it like a question, but a statement, and I try with all my might not to blush like a child. The waitress returns and clears our plates, bringing the dessert he ordered. Howard leans back with a sigh. “I’ve kept my eye on Stane for the last few years. Not a bad man, but not a great one. Desperate. I was desperate, too, for a while, ‘til I realized the only thing that gets you anywhere is hard work. That’s how America does it.”

“He says while dining in France.”

“Hey, I paid for the meal in America dollars, doll.” His smile is wide, and honest, and youthful and endearing and… and it belongs to Howard Stark, notorious womanizer. Still, I find myself smiling in return, chin propped up in my hand, gazing at him. I can’t get caught up in his displays of wealth, but his confidence is something else. Obadiah isn’t confident like Howard. Howard has confidence to spare. He could bottle it and sell it, and convince everyone he met to buy it, that’s how confident he is. “How long are you in Monaco?”

“I leave November 22nd. Obadiah has had long meetings every day.”

“And because he leaves you alone in your room, you squander his earnings at the betting table in retaliation?” I look up at him, in surprise and defense, and he chuckles to himself. “If I were him, I’d bring you to every meeting with me. You belong in the business room. What do you do at Stane International?”

“I keep the books. Accounting. I went to Columbia.” I want to impress him.

“And what do you do when you’re not working?”

“I work a lot with charities.”

“When you’re not working.”

“I suppose I dine with handsome strangers in foreign hotels.”

Howard takes one bite of the dessert delivered, then wipes his hands and rises to his feet. “Let’s go have some fun, Maria.”

“You’re only here for one more full day, is that right?” Howard asks me from the rooftop of the Hellfire Club. “Spend it with me. Obadiah won’t mind.”

He’s right; Obie wouldn’t even notice, and I don’t feel guilty for accepting. “What do you have in mind?”

We sit up there for hours, talking until sunset, the wind licking at his hair, teasing it from the gel. The soft colors of dusk make Howard look younger. I want to kiss him, I realize, and I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone before. At least, not like this. I push the feeling down deep. Every woman wants to kiss Howard Stark, with his deep brown eyes and his even deeper pockets. And if he wants to kiss me, he’ll have to work for it.

As if reading my mind, he whispers, “God, Maria, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I’d give it all up just to kiss you.”

“Does that line usually work?” I turn away. I feel like a child in his gaze, naïve and eager.

“I don’t know. I’ve never used it before.” I don’t look at him, but I can feel his eyes on me. I fix my gaze hard on the horizon in front of me. After a moment, “Actually, I take it back. I don’t want to kiss you until I’ve earned it. I want to do right by you, Maria. I’ll become an honest man for you.”

I want to believe him, but I also believe the stories. I don’t know what makes me so special in Howard’s eyes, but I feel more seen with him than I ever did with Obadiah, and it’s the last sign I need to leave him.

#where ignorance is bliss #wiib reading #marvel #iron man #howard stark #canary writes a fanfiction

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ashxketchum · 4 years ago

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TYHIL MAGIC AU! TYHIL MAGIC AU!!

Nooo it’s so bad, I wrote it halfway in like 2014 and I cringe every time I read it now which is why I can never finish it 😭

It was super difficult to find a snippet that was not cringey, but here it is:

Never in ten years had any villager or outsider uttered those words.

Please open the door.

It was like music to her ears. She felt obliged to get up and make her way to the door, setting aside books to make a clear path. But when she reached the door and adjusted the settings of her magical telescope to look at this kind person, she was highly disappointed by what she saw. A tall, young (probably a few years older than her) male stood at her doorstep. He was scratching his head as he frowned at the note he held in his hand. The note that she had slipped through from under the door a few minutes ago. She watched as he continued frowning and scratching his head for a while and the brunette couldn't help but scowl. Can he not read? At this particular moment, she could not bring herself to be patient. This was her first civil interaction with a fellow human being in a decade. And while the beginning of this had been through paper, it might just lead to an in person interaction as well. But that would only happen if he is able to convince her to open the door, she reminded herself, and she was starting to wonder if he lacked the skills to do so.

He started to move and her eyes was fixed on him again as he pulled out a charcoal pencil from thin air and proceeded to scribble onto the small sheet of paper. The young witch managed to keep her excitement in check and easily suppressed a squeal. As she waited for him to finish writing, she couldn't help but observe his features a little more carefully. He was wearing a white cotton shirt with some of the buttons undone and the sleeves rolled back. On top of the shirt he wore a red vest which had the emblem of the Kingdom etched with black thread onto its backside. He wore brown khaki pants with black knee high combat boots. And to top it off, he wore a red bandana on his head. His skin was tanned and his arms were littered with battle scars. To her, he looked more like a bandit than a soldier in the King's service.

"How unpleasant." She muttered quietly.

He bent down to push the paper through the small gap at the bottom of the door and then he suddenly looked up, his eyes fixed at the door. His deep brown eyes were looking directly at her. She immediately backed away from the magical device, staggering a little as she did so. He couldn't possibly have seen through her barrier. She could easily sense his magical presence and it was nowhere near her level. And yet it felt like he was looking look right through the door and into her eyes. With trembling hands she picked up the paper and unfolded it slowly. Her eyes moved across the paper and as they neared the end of the note, all colour drained from her face.

Separated from the real world for ten years, you really have no idea how magic works these days do you? I can see through all your measly tricks, kid. Open the door without kicking a fuss or I'll have my precious dragon swallow you whole and any chance of you ever seeing the real sky will go down my dragon's throat.

He knew that only ten minutes had passed since he had slipped in the small (not that threatening) note but it felt like hours had passed and he was getting sick of waiting outside. The sun was setting down, and the air had gotten surprisingly chilly. Even though he could easily create a warm and comfortable tent to spend the night through magic, he didn't want to. He couldn't stand being outside the dome any longer. After all, he had seen the witch. And something about her face had piqued his interest. He couldn't quite place it but there was something unusual about her. Not that locking herself up and staying away from the real world wasn't unusual in itself. Tyson let out an aggravated cry as another moment passed without the door opening. He scratched his head as he contemplated on whether he should take up on his threat. Even though he had threatened to kill her on paper, he had only used such a big flashy statement to lure her out. He thought that the thought of the library being destroyed would get her to come out but obviously it looked like it was going to take more than just an empty threat from him for her to show.

Tyson wasn't really keen on disturbing his sleeping friend as the consequences of him doing so hadn't been very pretty in the past. Moreover, despite its daunting appearance, the dragon didn't like to create a mess by stomping on things. He didn't even like eating people. Animals and birds were okay according to Dragoon, but humans left a bad taste in his mouth. Thinking about food made him realize that he had already eaten not only his food supplies but also the stack of apples reserved for the dragon during the ride this morning. If Dragoon found out he finished their supplies, that were supposed to last for two days in just a few hours, Tyson was good as dead. And with each passing moment, Tyson started worrying more about the dragon and food and less about wanting to enter the dome. He had now turned around, with his back to the wooden door and was thinking of going back to the village to get some food for himself and Dragoon and maybe a comfy bed to sleep in. The blue haired boy was so lost in thought that he didn't hear the faint click of the lock or the sound of the door opening slightly. It was her voice that finally caught his attention.

"Please come in."

The tone was soft and melodic and so quiet that Tyson wouldn't even have registered it if it hadn't come from behind. No matter how unnoticeable the whisper had been, it had come from the other side of the door. Tyson turned around immediately and grinned widely. The door had been opened just a little bit. A thin line of green light was streaming out onto where Tyson was standing, casting a slight illumination on his feet. It felt a little surreal to him. The way the door was only slightly ajar, the strange green light, the sweet whisper and how just a few seconds ago he had been all ready to leave. Despite the feeling, Tyson took a deep breath and with nervous hands pushed the door. He made sure not to open the door completely but just to create a gap wide enough for him to squeeze through. He entered as quickly as he could and then shut the door behind him. When he finally turned around, the scene in front of him blew him away. He stood there with his mouth hanging open in awe of the library. He had never seen so many books in one place before. The thought of the books containing immense knowledge about magic made his heart pound faster. If he could get his hands on all of the knowledge present in front of him, he would be invincible. No more trying to discipline the hopeless second division. He would straight away be promoted to the position of the King's right hand man.

Once the sheer extravagance of the library subsided, a small movement caught his eye. The wide grin spreading on Tyson face faltered a little as he noticed a small figure hiding behind a stack of books not far from where he was standing. He opened his mouth to say something but then shut it quickly as he had no idea what he should say. He pondered over this for a while and eventually decided that first he should apologise for all the shouting and banging and threatening. He cleared his throat confidently. There was a small squeak, a few books toppled down as the girl moved further away while still trying to stay hidden. Slightly annoyed by her actions, Tyson decided to chuck the apology and just get on with it. He started with examining the books closest to him and he was amazed by all the information stored in here. Though it seemed like the books weren't arranged in a categorical order. A book that talked about how you could curse an enemy to the depths of hell was kept below a book that taught magical sewing. As he moved along, Tyson created a stack of his own. He started assembling all the books he would need like battle strategy, demon taming, useful spells and curses etc. On an afterthought he also added the book on sewing to his pile since Dragoon often liked to shred his wardrobe and always buying new clothes was taking a toll on his already meagre salary.

He tried his best to make his movements discreet but the closer he got to the girl, the farther she would run. Most people would've given up after a while, but not Tyson. Nope, he was designed to never give up. He kept following her across the library, making sure to maintain a certain distance between them. He knew that eventually she would run into a wall and then when she'll be unable to dodge him, he would confront her. He couldn't understand why she was hiding, it's not like he was going to hurt her or anything he just wanted to see her face properly. When he had looked through the door, he had felt strange. There was something about her face that was bugging him immensely. He just wanted one long proper look without any barrier between them and these small glimpses from behind the books were driving him crazy. He needed to know.

After a few hours of clever manipulation from Tyson's side, the chase finally came to an end. He was skimming through a book about potty training for Dragons when he heard a quiet thud not far from where he was standing. Smirking, Tyson quickly manoeuvred through the stacks of books and blocked her only exit.

"Aha! Caught ya!"

#beyblade #beyblade fanfiction #tyhil #dont mind me and the 1000+ tyhil aus that live in my mind rent free #writealot #answered

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alwayschoosechocolate · 5 years ago

Text

Jolabokaflod (kmj)

Genre: fluff, established relationship

Paring: reader x Namjoon

Word count: 2000

Some Christmas traditions may be foreign to your culture, but still be the absolute perfect fit for you. Jolabokaflod is just one of those traditions and with your boyfriend next to you, Christmas couldn’t be better.

Taglist: @spookidema @jessicarhb @ambrietalksanddraws

A/N: Just to shortly explain what Jolabokaflod means, I’ve included a short explanation after the cut, before the story. This was my first time writing for Namjoon outside of my series Are we even speaking the same language? and it was actually surprisingly difficult to not just write him in the same way 😅 But I am so happy with ending my Christmas drabbles in this way! I’ve enjoyed getting my head out of the very turbulent life I’ve had lately and writing all this fluff has got me itching to get back to write my series again, where I can write some angst and crack! 😍😍

Anyhow - this is the last Christmas drabble! I hope you’ve enjoyed and loved reading them as much as I have enjoyed writing them! Happy holidays to all of you! ❤️☃️

The previous drabbles can be found in the master post for the drabbles. My other stories and drabbles can be found in my masterlist

Jolabokaflod is part of the Icelandic Christmas tradition of gifting books on Christmas and then spending the rest of the night reading, wrapped up in blankets and sipping on hot cocoa. The tradition stems back from WWII, where imported goods were heavily restricted, but paper were comparatively cheap to import. Books therefor became a common Christmas gift, and the tradition has carried on til this day. Jolabokaflod in Icelandic means ‘Christmas book flood’ and refers to the large number of books being publish in the weeks leading up to Christmas.

Soft tones of instrumental music flowing from the speakers, the heavenly smell of the quiche being baked in the oven, and your tranquil smile as you walked around lighting the candles in the living room was definitely part of the recipe for a perfect Christmas, Namjoon decided as his eyes followed your movements through his living room, a soft smile clinging to his features.

“Flower,” his gentle voice called out for you, for no other reason than for him to see your eyes light up the way they always did, when he used that nickname for you.

Grinning happily at him, you crossed the living room to his leaning position against the door frame leading to the kitchen. Raising yourself on your toes you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, smiling when you felt him smirking in response.

Humming as you pulled away, you turned back towards the living room automatically leaning against his side as you did so.

“Do we have everything? You have the gifts?”, you inquired, grinning when you heard the affirmative hum from the man behind you.

“I made them all promise to buy books and only books,” he spoke sincerely, leader features popping out as he nodded seriously at you.

For Christmas this year, you had decided to try something slightly different – jolabokaflod. Namjoons family had never been big on Christmas and yours were going abroad to celebrate with your aunt and uncle in Australia, so this year was perfect to celebrate in your very own way. You had wanted to try it for years, but never had the chance to since no one in your family were literary interested in that way.

But you and Namjoon shared a deep love for literature and cozy nights wrapped up in blankets with an open book in front of you, so you decided to introduce him to the concept, hoping he would be equally fond of the idea. Not only had he been equally excited, he had gone above and beyond to make sure the other members followed the rules as well, despite them celebrating Christmas with their own families.

“You didn’t have to do that, Joonie,” you giggled, eyeing the carefully wrapped presents on the table in the kitchen. “They probably had a hard time figuring out which books to buy.”

“Oh, definitely. I had to talk Jimin out of buying you the entire bookstore, because he couldn’t make up his mind,” he chuckled, as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to his chest. “He wanted to make sure he got you the best gift.”

“And did he?”, you teased, leaning your head back against his chest throwing a quick glance at the quiche in the oven to make sure it wouldn’t burn.

“No way,” he scoffed with a light chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss to your neck. “He could never beat mine.”

Giggling at his confidence, you reached one hand up to run through his hair as he rested his head against your collarbone, each warm breath making goosebumps appear on your skin. Breathing each other in and letting the quiet and comfort settle in your bones, the floating tones of a lone piano filled the air. His hands tracing undecided symbols to your waist as he hummed along to the piano. Your hand slowly dragging over his scalp and through his hair with care. Serene smiles painting both your lips, as you tipped your head to capture his in a slow kiss.

By the ding of the oven timer, you were both startled, causing sheepish smiles to appear as you both jumped back into action. As Namjoon set the table, you pulled the quiche out of the oven and quickly prepared a salad while it cooled down a bit.

Sitting down to eat was calm and comfortable. No screaming cousins running around. No uncle making inappropriate jokes. No questions about grandkids or marriage. Just the two of you and your non-Christmassy quiche, as you laughed and discussed your favorite Christmas movies.

Moving to the living room with cocoas in hand after dinner, you placed the plate of cookies on the table next to the mountain of presents. Sitting down against the armrest of the couch, you pulled your feet up under you only to have Namjoon reach out and pull them over his lap, so he could rest his warm hands on your thighs.

Sending you a shameless smile, he gave your thigh a light smack before reaching for his cocoa, that you had placed on the table.

“So how do we do this?”, he asked, waiting for you to take charge, since jolabokaflod was your idea. “Is there a certain way to do it or?”

Shaking your head with a laugh, you grabbed his neck and pulled him in for a quick kiss in pure adoration.

“There is no rule for this, babe. We just open presents like every other Christmas,” you answered with a doting smile.

“Okay, but I want you to open mine last,” Namjoon beamed, as he grabbed one of the bigger presents and placed it next to him on the couch, opposite the side where you were sitting.

“Fine,” you giggled, as you pulled away your gift for him away as well. “Then I want you to wait with mine as well.”

Making your way through the presents, the stacks of books on either side of the coffee table got bigger and bigger. Everything from novels, poetry collections, nonfiction and travel books appeared in the piles, making for a colorful and exciting collection of both your interests. The other members had really gone out of their way to find the perfect gifts, Jungkook had even found you a poetry collection from a small local writer, you had been gushing on about for a few weeks now.

“Can I open yours now?”, you pouted at Namjoon with innocent eyes, when the table was empty of presents and wrapping paper littered the floor around you.

“No, not yet,” he grinned happily as he stole a kiss from your lips. “I want to open yours first,” he stated, making grabby hands in your direction.

“Fine.”

Reaching behind you for his gift, you placed it in his extended hand, smiling happily at the excited gleam in his eyes as he unwrapped it, falling completely silent when the book came into view.

Turning to you with wide eyes, his jaw hanging slightly open, he gingerly opened the book in his hands. The red leather binding squeaked slightly, and the gold letters glimmered in the candle lights, as he found the title on the first page.

“Grimm’s household tales,” he whispered as his fingers traced the English letters. “1884.”

“It’s one of the earliest translations of their fairy tales,” you explained, as you observed his reaction. “You’ve been talking so much about European fairy tales lately, I thought I would find you some of the original ones.”

Delicately placing the book down on the coffee table, he cautiously ran his fingers over the cover as he retracted his hand.

“Thank you so much,” he spoke sincerely, turning to you with amazement in his eyes. “I love it.”

Cupping your cheek, he leaned in to press an affectionate kiss to your lips, leaving you blushing and slightly breathless.

“Alright, now where is my present?”, you giggled in anticipation of his gift for you, laughing happily when he pulled out the gift from behind him to hand it to you, a fond smile on his lips at the sight of your excitement.

“But I can’t top yours, flower,” he giggled sheepishly, as he handed you the gift and observed you start to unwrap it.

“Oh, hush,” you scolded as you ripped at the paper, finally revealing the two books it contained.

Turning them over in your hand, you held them up next to each other and looked back at Namjoon in confusion.

“Am I missing something, or did you give me two copies of the same book?”, you giggled in confusion, as you looked at the titles again. A little life by Hanya Yanagihara it clearly said on both of them.

“I did,” he smiled proudly, though you were still confused. “You’ve talked about this book almost all year, but for some reason you haven’t read it yet, so I thought we could read it together tonight. Like each in our own book, but here next to each other and talk about what happens as we read it,” he explained with excited eyes, making your heart melt at the thoughtfulness behind it.

“That’s adorable, Joonie,” you smiled at him, as you leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. “You want to share the book with me.”

“I want to share everything with you, but for now, yes, I want to share this with you,” he spoke sincerely, leaning in to capture your lips in a passionate and slow kiss. “I love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” you blushed at his statement, hearing him chuckle knowingly, when you looked back at the books in your lap to hide it. “Then let’s make some more cocoa and get to the reading part of the evening,” you grinned in anticipation.

Feeling a tug at your foot under the blanket, you lifted your eyes to meet his over sea of blankets enveloping the two of you. Smiling cheekily at him over rim of your cup of cocoa, he grinned back with loving eyes.

“Did you get to chapter 7 yet, darling?”, he asked as he squeezed your angle lightly under the blanket again, excitement evident in his voice.

“Not yet,” you giggled, straightening your leg so he could reach more of your bare skin from his position at the other end of the couch. “I’m rereading the last few pages in chapter 6. There is so much happening,” you gaped, voice slightly breathless as you took in the story on the pages in front of you.

“I’ll make us more cocoa while I wait then,” he promised as he grabbed your mug from your hand and moved to the kitchen in a hurried shuffle, where he turned on the stove and placed the pot back on the top, pouring in some more cocoa. Waiting for it to heat up, he constantly threw glances at you as you read through the last few pagers of the chapter once more.

Slightly bouncing on his heel in anticipation, he poured the now hot beverage into your cups , hurrying back to the couch and your company.

“So did you finish?”, he inquired as he handed you your mug, practically vibrating from the excitement of discussing the plot while experiencing it.

His brows where slightly raised, his eyes widened in suspense and his hands gripping his mug a bit too tight, as his excited eyes peered into yours, eager to hear your understanding of the events.

Swapping theories on the events in the book, you read each other paragraphs from the book to support your claims or brought each other’s attention to an especially clever or beautifully worded sentence as you read on. As the candles burned down around you and the sound of turning pages got less frequent as you got more and more sleepy, the evening stretched into the early hours of the morning.

It was close to two AM, when Namjoon put down his book to ask you if you wanted to call it a night, only to find you sound asleep against the armrest, book dropped to your chest with your hands still on top of it.

Smiling fondly at the scene, he carefully untangled himself from the blankets and closed his book around the bookmark, before reaching for your book and delicately freeing it from your grasp and placing your bookmark between its pages.

For a second he debated if he should carry you to bed, but something about waking up with you on the couch still in the living room with your books on table, caused a ecstatic smile to reached his face, so he decided against it.

Quickly turning off the lights, he returned to you on the couch and slipped in behind you, pulling you flush against his chest and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, ending your first Christmas together tangled up on the couch with the smell of cocoa in the air.

#christmas drabble #namjoon fluff #namjoon imagine #namjoon reaction #namjoon x reader #bts imagine #bangtan imagine #bts fluff #bangtan fluff #namjoon boyfriend #bts reaction #bangtan reaction #happy holidays #merry christmas #christmas fluff

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ninetalees · 5 years ago

Text

Sufferance, chapter 3

Is finally here! Been working on this on and off for the last few weeks. Hope you enjoy! As always, feedback is appreciated. Also, let me know if any of you get the movie I’m referring to, lol.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24019411/chapters/59125465

They didn’t speak about what had happened the next day.

Or the next, or the next. Before Hop knew it, it had been a week and the atmosphere of simmering tension had not eased. It was mind-numbingly frustrating and Hop wanted to understand, but how could he ask, where would he start? All he could do was watch.

He watched Bede smiling along with Sonia, on his knees in the dirt in the Weald, brow furrowed in concentration on the PC in the lab or with his head in a book. He especially watched him when he bade him farewell in the evenings, his pale skin and flowing hair set alight by the shimmering hues of the sunset. Hop watched, but he couldn’t understand; he couldn’t read the thoughts that flitted behind Bede’s eyes and hung unspoken between them.

“…you know you have talked about nothing but Bede for the whole of this conversation?” Gloria’s voice cut across him mid-sentence, as he was complaining how Bede was so mannerly around Sonia, all smiles and questions about her work. Hop was convinced it had to be a front; he had never known Bede to warm to anyone without a lot of graft on their part. More fool them.

“Well, I have a lot to say,” Hop replied, affronted. “It’s not like I care or anything, I just need to vent. He’s so…” he gestured with the hand not holding the phone – one that happened to be holding a piece of toast. From the corner of his eye he could see the spray of crumbs that littered the floor. A problem for later; the whole place could do with a clean. He had been so busy with work for the last week he’d hardly had time to even consider anything else.

“Uh-huh, sure sounds like you don’t care.” There was a wryness to Gloria’s tone that set Hop’s teeth on edge. “This happens every time you two hang out, you know. You don’t stop going on about him for ages.”

“Like I said, I have a lot to say about him,” Hop shot back. “He’s just so… I don’t understand what he’s trying to do, you know? Like I was saying, he’s so pally with Sonia – she actually likes him – always asking her questions about what she does and about the Weald and about science. As if he actually cares.” He snorted. “I get that he’s here to work – this project obviously is important to him, I’ll give him that, but as if he’s ever been nice to someone for no reason in his life. Like he actually gives a toss about anything Sonia or anyone in this town does.”

“Hop,” Gloria sighed, exasperated. “He’s not trying to do anything. I told you to give him a chance, didn’t I?”

“I have been,” Hop growled. “I’m just saying to you, best mate to best mate, that he’s a pain in the arse and no-one seems to be able to see past his weird, smarmy front. I mean, if he’s so interested in science and what we’re studying at the lab, why would he not ask me? We spend way more time together than him and Sonia do. It’s because he’s not trying to gain my favour because he knows I know what he’s like.”

“You may be my best mate but Bede is my friend too, you know,” Gloria replied with a yawn. “And maybe he’s not asking you questions because you’re being hostile as shit? I wasn’t going to tell you this, but the night I stayed after you left he said that it had been really nice to for the three of us to spend that time together. He’s making an effort Hop, you should too.”

Hop stood to begin getting his things together for the day ahead, cradling the phone between his shoulder and his cheek. “Don’t take his side,” he snapped. “And we all say sentimental shite when we’re drunk.”

“It’s not about sides, Hop. There are no sides.” He could hear the roll of her eyes in her tone. “Look, I’m not going to indulge you further about this. I have to go anyway – big press conference this morning.” She clicked her tongue with disapproval. “I hope you’re doing okay. I love you lots, y’know? Try not to overthink about Bede. I know you refuse to believe it, but he is a good guy. He’s changed.”

“I love you too,” Hop replied, weakening. He sighed. “I… maybe to you he’s changed. But I still… still think…” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. You go – I need to get to work too. Talk soon.”

“Talk soon.” Gloria hung up. Hop took the phone away from his ear and stared aimlessly at the screen for a moment. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Gloria – Bede had changed, for her. Because he respected her. But not Hop – as far as Bede was concerned Hop was a mere small-town professor who had thrown in the towel on battling because he had failed. And Hop couldn’t tolerate that. He hadn’t mentioned to Gloria what had happened with Amelia. Truthfully, he was a little ashamed of how he had reacted; his feelings had just been compounded in the moment. He was used to Gloria and her fans whenever they went anywhere together, and their fawning had never bothered him in the slightest. Never before had he been able to associate the word contrite with the shiny-haired, stuck-up footnote on his life that was the Ballonlea Gym Leader. But that day he had apologised – apologised for what? Offending Hop with his fame? For reminding him that he had everything Hop had once wanted? Did he not understand that Hop had moved on?

He pocketed his phone and piled his breakfast dishes into the sink before heading out. The weather that morning broke the sunny spell they had been enjoying for the past few weeks; the sky was grey, threatening rain, but the spring heat still hung heavy in the air. Hop had already slipped out of his coat by the time he arrived at the lab. Sonia, seated at the PC, raised her hand in a wave without turning around. “Morning Hop,” she greeted. Hop set his bag at the door and came to stand behind her, eyes alight with curiosity. “Morning,” he replied. “Whatcha looking at?”

“Just having a glance over some of the environmental comparisons yourself and Bede have made between the Tangle and the Weald so far.” Sonia gestured to the graphs on the screen. “Bede mentioned you hadn’t had much luck in scouring out anything notable yet, so asked for a second opinion.” She leaned forward, squinting in concentration as though looking more closely would uncover some as-of-yet unrevealed secret. “I haven’t caught anything either. But that’s what science is all about, right? Trial and error.”

“This whole excursion might prove to be useless,” Bede’s voice came from behind them, and Hop whirled to see him making his way down the stairs from the balcony, face obscured by the pile of books he was carrying. He set them on the countertop and came to stand by Hop. “But it was something Opal always talked about looking at again, so… I thought it might be nice to pick it up. In her honour.”

The three of them fell silent for a moment. Opal had passed away 3 years ago. It was an inevitability, of course, but not one that anyone who had ever known Opal had ever entertained. She had always seemed larger than life: a garish pink thread on the tapestry of the colourful characters of Galar’s elite. Hop couldn’t imagine how disconcerting it must have been to watch her grow frailer and frailer, culminating on that grey autumn day in Ballonlea. When he stole a glance at Bede his features were creased, the line of his shoulders rigid. The sight of him swallowed in the throes of his grief was a lightning flash of déja-vu, and for a moment the two of them were standing side by side at that graveside again, Hop’s throat thick with half-formed sentiments that couldn’t arrange themselves into words.

“She had a greatly inquisitive mind.” Sonia’s gentle voice wrenched Hop back to reality. She had turned in her seat to face Bede and laid a sympathetic hand on his arm. Hop noted how Bede tensed under her grip for an instant before rearranging his expression into its usual mask of neutrality. “Thanks, Sonia,” he murmured.

Sonia smiled encouragingly and squeezed his arm once more before getting to her feet and breezing past them to her desk. “That reminds me.” She plucked a folder from among the swathes of papers scattered into disorganised piles on her desk. Hop had always thought it must be a physical extension of her mind: outwardly cluttered, but everything had a place and Sonia knew exactly where that was. She waved the folder in their faces, then slapped it into Hop’s hands. “This is for you to bring over to Gr- Professor Magnolia’s.” She flushed at the near slip-up. “She called this morning to inquire after your research; she helped Opal when she came to look into the Weald, a long time ago. I told her I would put together some notes and have you bring it over. Is that okay?” she grinned at Bede. “She was excited to see you – said it’s been too long.”

To Hop’s surprise, Bede’s expression brightened considerably. “Oh, really? One step ahead of me as usual – I had meant to get in touch with her to let her know I was around.” The more time Hop spent with Bede the more apparent were the gaping holes present in Hop’s image of him, a photograph over a flame. He’d had a peripheral awareness of Opal’s friendship with Magnolia but at no point had he thought to draw the conclusion that Bede must be close with her, too.

“Word travels fast around these parts, Bede,” Sonia replied with a laugh. “Unlike me, she didn’t forget you were coming. When I went round for tea yesterday that was the first thing she asked about – when you would be dropping by to show her what you had accomplished so far.” She nodded to the folder. “I put that together this morning, said I would send you both over today. Since it’s a joint effort.”

“Of course.” Bede’s tone was tinged with excitement. “I can’t thank you both enough for your help.” Hop bristled instinctively, but couldn’t locate anything in Bede’s expression but genuine warmth. He shook off the discomfort and smiled shakily back, and was glad when Sonia swooped in to respond for the two of them.

“Not at all! That’s what we’re here for: to answer questions about Pokémon and their world.” Hop mumbled something that could pass as agreement before slipping the folder under his arm. “Let’s be off then,” he said to Bede. He nodded at Sonia. “Be back in a tick.”

“Take your time! Magnolia will be thrilled to see you both.” She beamed. “You’ve been working hard, you deserve a break.”

Hop wasn’t sure he would classify this as a break – he would probably rather be working – but refrained from complaint in the face of Sonia’s palpable delight. He knew she often worried for her grandmother; after her husband had passed away she was all alone in that house and Sonia was often too busy to visit as much as she would like. Magnolia was independent and hard as nails, but at least with Hop and Bede there Sonia could relieve herself of the nagging concern for a few hours. Instead, Hop departed with a smile and a nod, the folder clutched to his chest.

Bede strode ahead, his gait hurried and purposeful. Hop trailed a few paces behind, not quite dragging his feet but making no effort to keep up, either. By the time he reached Magnolia’s house Bede was standing by the gate, tapping an impatient rhythm in the dust.

“You never told me you’d been around these parts before.” Hop remarked as he drew up beside him.

“You never asked.” Bede slid open the latch and motioned impatiently for Hop to follow as he trotted up the garden path. Hop scowled at his dismissiveness.

“Oh, right, because I’m supposed to ask you about every possible scenario that might have happened in the world in order for you to mention it. Because that’s how conversations work, is it?”

They were standing outside the door, now. Bede rolled his eyes and raised a hand to bang the Pyroar knocker against the peeling paintwork. “How would I know? You’re always the one insisting I don’t know how to talk to people when I tell you not to yell in the pub.”

Hop’s eyes narrowed. Indeed, there may have been one or two instances of that particular nature. He opened his mouth to snap back only for the door to be flung open to reveal a beaming Magnolia. She had taken to using a zimmerframe in her old age (after much coaxing from Sonia), her posture slightly hunched like a half-folded deckchair. But the smile on her face did more to brighten it than the wrinkles did to crease it. In that moment, with her white hair shining in the crack of sunlight between clouds and the glimmer of delight in her eyes, she appeared ten years younger.

“Bede, dear,” she greeted. “It’s been too long. Have you grown?”

Bede grinned and skirted neatly around her zimmerframe to gather her into a careful hug. “No, I think you’ve shrunk.” Hop balked at his cheek, but Magnolia only laughed.

“Your tongue is sharp as ever I see.” She tutted affectionately and released him. Bede’s cheeks were pink, perfect ponytail ruffled from the embrace. Hop barely recognised him.

He only realised he had been staring when Magnolia touched his arm. “And lovely to see you too, Professor.” She nodded to the folder in his hands. “Is that for me?”

“Uh…” he blinked stupidly for a moment. The research. “Uh, yes. Yes it is.” He proffered the folder. “Sonia mentioned you were interested in our research?”

“Bring it through, I have the tea on.” Magnolia turned to shuffle back into the hallway. “And yes, very interested. As I’m sure Bede has told you myself and Opal started this project years ago. She was always interested in the Weald, but League life is so busy.” Magnolia let out a wistful sigh. “And life is so short. Before you know it, you’re an old crone like me, confined to days spent watering plants and endless cups of tea.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. Sonia is run off her feet trying to get you to stay indoors, I bet,” Bede replied with a laugh, following her inside. Hop was left standing in the doorway, reeling. How was it that he was the one out of sorts, here in the town of his birth? Bede had come and now nothing made sense. His life had been a clear, shallow lake: uncomplicated and safe. Bede had dropped in like a stone, the resounding ripples touching everything Hop had once known to be absolute – his friendships, his career, his past. Now he was left squinting into the pool, struggling to recognise the constantly shifting reflections.

“Hop?” Bede poked his head around the doorway of what must have been the living room. “You alright?”

Hop started. “Uh, yeah. Fine.” He met Bede’s gaze. There remained a dainty flush to his skin, strands of white-blond falling messily into his eyes. In that instant Hop had the bizarre urge to grab his shoulders and shake him, pull him real close and dig his nails into his skin. Maybe if he got close enough he could see what he was missing, could claw out the contents of his brain so well concealed by wry smiles and disparaging sniffs.

Instead he shut the front door and made his way into the room from where Bede had appeared. It was indeed the living room. The lights were low, so much so Hop could mostly only make out the shape of things. The plush furniture, the oblong shadows of chests of drawers and dressers along the lengths of the walls. Every available surface was decorated with photo frames, even the dusty piano in the corner. Hop’s eyes were drawn immediately to flashes of red in several pictures, bright spots in the relative darkness. He wandered up to one in particular over the fireplace. A much younger Sonia stood with her arm thrown carelessly around Leon, under the shade of the trees in Magnolia’s back garden. They were laughing, faces alight with excitement and despite the stillness of the image Hop could envision so clearly their playful jostling it were as though they were standing there in front of him, brimming with joy and youthful exuberance. He stared until his eyes watered and the edges of his vision blurred. There was probably a photo like that of him and Gloria, somewhere.

“Cute picture.” Bede materialised behind Hop so suddenly he whipped around, arms flailing, and narrowly avoided hitting Bede in the cheek.

“Yeah,” Hop replied at last. He shoved his hands into his pockets so as to avoid any more near-accidents. They observed the photo, the silence sitting heavy on their shoulders. When Hop glanced at Bede his usual smooth expression had resettled into place, the hair that had been falling around his face pulled back. He found himself wondering in that moment what Bede had been like as a child: he hadn’t up until now ever entertained that fact there had been a time when the now-Gym Leader had been wide-eyed and top-full with hope for the future. Hop knew Bede had not had the easiest start in life, having spent some time in an orphanage, but his insight ended there. Bede had never spoken about his beginnings himself – all the information Hop had he had gleaned from his League Card as a Gym Challenger. He had never dwelled any further.

He opened his mouth to ask – he didn’t know what exactly – when Magnolia returned, slowly wheeling a drinks tray laden with a teapot and matching china. Bede flung himself across the room to help her and she laughed at his fussing as he carefully set about transferring the contents of the tray to the coffee table.

“I told you, I didn’t need help,” she scolded affectionately. As she spoke, however, she lowered herself carefully into an armchair, the seat a perfect indent of her shape, happy to let Bede take charge. Hop moved to assist Bede by pouring the tea into the cups. It annoyed him he had not jumped to help immediately: his reaction times were off, as though he were moving through cement. Somehow, Bede fit this scene moreso than he did. If this had been one of the photos on the walls Hop would have been the accidental thumbprint in the corner.

Once the tea was poured and the places set, Hop and Bede took their seats. Hop blew on the steaming cup in his hands, enjoying the damp heat on his skin and how the sensation distracted him from Bede and Magnolia’s murmured recounting of an old story about Opal. Eventually, Magnolia raised a slightly trembling hand to point at the folder sticking out of Hop’s coat.

“Anyway,” she began. “On the subject of Opal, I would be extremely interested to have a look at what work you’ve done on her project thus far.”

Hop snapped to attention and laid down his cup to draw the folder from his inner pocket and hand it to her. “Yes, of course,” he replied, business-like. “As you can see we haven’t made a great deal of progress yet. We’ve noted some similarities between the Tangle and the Weald on the basis of temperature and certain species of plant-life, but that’s about it as of yet.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “There’s far more differences than there are similarities, that’s for sure. In fact the differences are so vast I can’t help but wonder if the similarities are merely coincidental and we’re looking from the completely wrong angle. But I don’t know where else to start.”

Magolia’s eyes twinkled with interest, and her fingers leafed through the report with an ease unweighted by age. “Hmmm.” She clicked her tongue. “I would be inclined to agree with you. I was surprised when Opal came to me first – I told her, besides the fact that they are both forests, the two locations would have very little in common. But she was insistent, and her preliminary research was sound – according to all known literature Weezing did indeed first inherit its Fairy-typing in the Weald.”

Bede raised a finger. “If I may,” he cut in, glancing at Hop as though for permission. “It is interesting that it’s only Weezing. There are no other Fairy-types to be found in the Weald at all.” He titled his head. “There obviously is something about the environment that is attractive to Fairy-types in particular – that has to be true. Otherwise Weezing would have never developed the typing in the first place. But why only Weezing? Why have no others spawned there?” He sighed. “It’s perplexing indeed.”

Unthinkingly, Hop had lowered his hand to run a finger around the smooth metal of the Pokéball in his pocket. He wasn’t in the habit of carrying his entire party around with him anymore – the wild Pokémon that populated the areas surrounding Postwick and Wedgehurst were less than threatening. It was Zacian who accompanied him today, the legendary beast who had chosen Hop as its partner. Not no others. Zacian was the Fairy-type protector of the Weald. He sat up straighter in his seat with this sudden realisation, eyes widening. Could it be..?

Hop said nothing. This was something he wanted to look into himself first, to determine whether it was worth sharing with Bede. They were supposed to be conducting this study together, he knew that, but he couldn’t bear the thought of introducing Zacian to Bede, to opening up this part of his world to him quite yet. It was too precious, a thread that pulled taut together the lives of himself, Gloria and their hometown. No – he would look himself first; it was unlikely to be the answer, anyway.

Bede and Magnolia had moved back to talking about Opal, so Hop could allow himself to zone out of their conversation. He mostly watched Bede, enraptured. It were as though his usual cool exterior had quite literally thawed away: Hop had never seen him so animated, so uninhibited. He gestured and laughed – like laughed, head thrown back, teeth glinting in the low light – and was receptive to Magnolia’s affection, her gentle hand-pats and cooing smiles. Hop remembered seeing a movie, once, where the narrator talked about rude people only wanting to be loved, and if you were to show them that love they would open like a flower. How strange it was, to observe Bede bloom before his very eyes.

The afternoon was more pleasant that Hop had expected it would be. They talked a lot about Opal, her legacy and influence, about their shared pasts, about Sonia, about Gloria. They spent very little time, in fact, straying into conversation that could be labelled scientific. At one point Hop chanced a glance out the window, and all of a sudden the sun was low in the sky, shades of orange and pink streaked across greyish-blue. When he withdrew his phone from his pocket to check his phone, 5:34 blinked back at him in the encroaching darkness.

“Oh wow,” he stood. “Half-past five already! We should be getting back.” He grinned at Magnolia. “Sonia will be wondering where we’ve gotten to – today was supposed to be a working day.”

“Oh, wisht. She knew well what would happen.” Magnolia gave a dismissive wave of her hand, as though batting Hop’s words out of mid-air. “The moment I heard you were embarking on this project, I asked her to make sure you two came around at some point. It’s such a joy to see the youth delving into scientific study. It’s not a glamourous path, but such an important one.”

Hop’s smile became soft. He did not know if her words were for his benefit, but it left a lightness in his chest nonetheless. “Thank you,” he murmured, shaking her outstretched hand. “I think so too.” It steeled his resolve, knowing someone like Magnolia was behind him. He had seen Sonia, her own flesh and blood, have to fight for her approval – it wasn’t granted lightly.

Bede joined him on his feet. “I agree.” He nodded to Hop. “I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without Sonia or Hop, and Opal would have been lost without you.”

Hop eyed him warily, expectant of a punchline. Bede’s gaze was unblinking, wide and sincere. It equally left him warm and made his skin crawl. “Is my job,” he replied, his tone breezy and reflecting none of the unease that had settled like a rock in his stomach. He was glad when Bede moved to lean forward and carefully hug Magolia goodbye; Gloria always said his expressions were an open book. He couldn’t account for what he was feeling now.

Bede and Magnolia said their farewells and Hop and himself headed out. They left Magnolia sitting in her chair with their research. She would have seen them out, she said, if she had been 10 years younger. “I’ll tell you a secret,” she had gripped Bede’s arm, her lips curling into a mischievous smirk. “Manners are a youngster’s game. Get old and you can do and say as you please.”

They had all laughed, then, and Hop was glad the visit had ended on a lighter note. He still felt out of sorts, his skin prickling with apprehension. The sensation persisted as they stepped out the front door and into the diminishing daylight. Hop paused to take a deep, calming breath through his nose. The familiar notes of woodsmoke, of earth and freshly-cut grass steadied him, kept him grounded. This was his home – his little corner. Nothing could change that. He caught Bede’s inquisitive sideways glance as they made their way out the gate and set off in the direction of Wedgehurst, but Hop pretended not to notice. He remained stubbornly silent, in fact; hands jammed into his pockets and posture hunched like that of a stubborn child’s.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that quiet at any social gathering.” Bede’s smooth remark broke the silence. Hop lifted his eyes from his shoes to examine his face. His gaze was fixed on the sky, shoulders thrown back in a more relaxed fashion than Hop had ever seen. Normally Bede’s teasing would have him bristling but now he could only laugh nervously, still uncertain.

“Yeah, well, was pretty difficult to get a word in edgeways.” Hop found his voice at last. “I didn’t realise you and Magnolia were that close.”

“She and Opal were close friends.” Bede turned to face him. “They saw each other when they could. And Magnolia isn’t difficult to grow to like.”

Hop pressed his lips together, searching his expression. Bede wore a small, aimless smile, awash with memories of better times. This was what he had wanted, a glimmer of an opening, fleeting as a fish darting out of sight of a shadow; he had to move now or it would be lost.

Instead, words spilled from his lips before he had a chance to register what he was saying. “I mean, old ladies always had a thing for you anyway, didn’t they?”

Hop had strolled a few paces ahead before he realised Bede’s pale figure was no longer in his line of sight. He stopped and turned around, to be faced with a Bede he was far more familiar with; jaw tensed, eyes steely, all rigid, straight lines down to his hands that were curled into fists.

“Could you stop?” the words escaped from between Bede’s clenched teeth in a hiss. Hop blinked warily at him, the unease that had sat in his stomach melting out to run ice-cold through his veins.

“Stop what?” he asked, proud his voice didn’t tremble. He looked so angry.

“I have tried with you.” Bede’s tone was terrifyingly even, at odds with the rage that creased his features. “I understand that you don’t like me, and that’s fine. I don’t need you to like me. I don’t need you to be my friend.” He took several steps towards Hop so their faces were mere inches apart, and Hop wondered for a spilt second if he should be prepared for Bede to punch him. “But I do need you to stop being a fucking child so we can work together. You need to get over the fact that I beat you and was nasty to you seven years ago. You need to move on.”

Hop flinched at his words, as though they had dealt a physical blow. The chill in his veins has been replaced by fury that burned white hot and itchy beneath his skin. “You think that I don’t like you because you beat me in a battle seven years ago?” he snarled. “You really think that’s the reason?”

Confusion flitted across Bede’s expression, momentarily displacing the mounting tension. “What other reason is there?” he asked. Hop wanted to curl his fingers into his stupid, perfect hair and drag him close to spit the words in his ear.

“I don’t like you because you’re a self-important, disparaging piece of shit who thinks they’re better than everyone.” Hop’s voice rose. “I don’t like you because you trampled my confidence in the mud and have the audacity to suggest that was just you being nasty. And I especially don’t like you because you think you’ve fooled everyone, but you haven’t fooled me.”

Bede’s eyes narrowed. “I respected you, you know,” he murmured. “You made a good life for yourself, on your own terms. I tried to show you that. I thought this would be different, I really did.” He took a step back. “I should have known better.”

Without another word Bede brushed past him, a spectre retreating rapidly into the dusk. Hop was left standing alone, blood drumming in his head. It was the adrenaline coursing through his system that had been holding him upright, and upon the passage of the perceived threat he collapsed to the ground like a newborn foal.

He wanted to call out, make him come back and insist they finish this, but when he opened his mouth the metallic tang overwhelmed him. He raised a tentative hand to his lip and realised he had bitten it so hard it was dripping crimson into the dust.

#cheeryfairyshipping #bedehop #hop x bede #trainer hop #pokemon swsh #my writing

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nekoabiwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Of Princes and Potions 2 - Chapter 1

I know... the title sucks. I’m just really bad at titles, fam. Also, while reading over this before posting, I legit was like “aww thats cute” so... yeh.

Original fic: https://nekoabiwrites.tumblr.com/post/187149767680/of-princes-and-potions-masterlist

AU: Royal/Fantasy Pairing: Logince Words: 3392 Warnings: Humans with scales (but not Deceit). Anything else, please let me know!

Summary: Roman’s ball ended up being fantastic, despite a few setbacks due to some guest underlying motives. However, once the ball is over and the new couple are given time alone, it feels as though something is going to be revealed...

---

The prince’s ball went on for hours, lasting well into the night. Many guests slowly trickled out of the door before the night was over. The first to go were those who were only there to be in the crown prince’s presence and attempt to woo him. As he’d made his choice clear and emphasised it by graciously declining all other attempts at flirting for the rest of the night, their purpose was done, and they had nothing left to gain from the event. The fact that it was a good portion of the attendees that left did cause a slight ache in Roman’s heart, but all who remained by his side healed it easily.

Once the ache had dulled slightly, Roman had a wonderful time. He danced with his friends, chatting and laughing the entire time. He danced with his father for a couple of songs and shared some with his little brother too. He spoke with many of the guests, thankful that the interactions felt far less forced and much easier to get through.

But the most enjoyable part of it all was being able to spend time with his companion.

Logan hung around in his shadow for the entire night, mostly because Roman was dragging him along the whole time. He was being introduced to a whirlwind of people, most of whom he could barely remember 10 minutes later as the information was scrawled out in his mind in order to be replaced with the new set of names and faces. But it was enjoyable all the same. Simply because he felt normal once more, and he had Roman beside him.

It was still fairly early when the king approached the couple, a very sleepy young prince curled up in his arms. He softly spoke, telling them he was happy for them both and that he would love to stay longer, but Thomas really needed to be taken up to bed. Both the prince and mage understood, and they bid him goodnight.

Hours later, Logan was feeling the exhaustion. He’d long since separated from Roman’s side and taken a seat at one of the tables. He was watching the prince effortlessly glide around the almost empty ballroom with one of his friends. Even without the effects of the potion heavy upon his emotions, something strong stirred inside him and made Logan feel lighter than air. He began to get lost in his thoughts for a moment, thinking back to the initial dance he’d shared with Roman.

A shadow fell over him, causing the mage to look up. The curious expression was replaced with a gentle smile as the crown prince filled his vision.

“Are you here to drag me back into the fray of socialisation?” Logan quipped, exhaustion heavy in his voice.

Roman barked out a short laugh as he grabbed a hold of the nearest chair. He pulled it up alongside Logan, seating himself down. Within seconds, the prince deflated and seemed just as exhausted as his companion, “I would never, my dearest. I just thought to come and check up on you as you have been over here for a while.” Roman reached over and slipped his hand beneath the closest of Logan’s, holding it carefully as though he was scared to break him.

“Thank you for the concern, but I am quite alright. You seemed to be enjoying yourself,” Logan’s grip on the hand in his own tightened for a moment as his eyes dropped to the floor, “and I did not wish to be a burden on you, so I thought to take a seat to the side.”

“You would never be a burden to me.” Roman was suddenly sat straight in his chair, his other hand resting atop Logan’s. He stared deep into the mage’s eyes, trying his hardest to let his sincerity come across.

“Burden was… a poor choice of terminology. I simply could not think of something else…” Logan swallowed hard, blaming the residual effects of the potion for the strange feeling of guilt that had settled into the lower portion of his stomach.

Roman went to say something more, but a shout of his name cut him off.

“Roman! We just wanted to come and say goodbye before we all left.” Valerie called out as she approached with her sister and a few of Roman’s closer friends.

The prince, never letting go of Logan’s hand, stood and said goodbye to his friends, knowing that they wouldn’t get the chance to see each other for a fairly long stretch of time. He was a little taken aback once they addressed Logan and the mage responded in kind. Sure, Logan was likely going to respond in order to be respectful, but the smile and light testing of the waters with a soft sarcasm to some of his words – which had many of the surrounding nobility laughing – were utterly unexpected to the prince. It was a very welcome surprise though.

The couple accompanied the group of friends to the doors of the ballroom, as they were the final guests to be leaving from the party. They all said their final farewells before separating. Roman turned to the guards and servants, “Thank you. Do not feel an obligation to have the ballroom entirely clean before tomorrow. Please spread the word. Not one of us wants anyone pushing themselves too much.”

All the addressed servants nodded and hurried off in different directions in order to tell other members of staff, while the guards began to walk around the perimeter of the ballroom in order to speak to the knights stationed around. Roman watched for a moment before turning to his partner with a gentle smile.

“Would you like to stay with me tonight?”

---

Logan stood still as the ornate door shut quietly behind him. His eyes roamed the absolutely enormous bedroom before him.

The only words Logan could even think of to describe the room he was looking at were ‘decadent to the extreme’. It was large and spacious, with a great amount of that space going completely unused even with the big furniture that littered the space. The part that drew his attention at first was the huge, plush-looking four poster bed that was draped in shades of red and gold – from the pillows to the sheer curtains hanging from the dowels creating the frame. The cushions were piled up at the head of the bed, forming what seemed to be a mountain with a seemingly well-loved yet still beautifully constructed rabbit plush sat at the base of it all. A set of doors were slightly ajar in the wall next to it, behind which Roman had disappeared only a moment before and Logan could only assume it led to a walk-in wardrobe that just had to be as extreme as the room outside of it.

His eyes then caught the large window that was indented into the wall to the left of the bed. The mage crossed the room to look out at the view of the kingdom, though he was only just about able to make out the shape of the capital city in the darkness. He perched carefully on the edge of the window seat, utterly astounded by the comfort of it. Yet more of the cushions from the bed littered the space, which seemed large enough for at least five people to sit side-by-side on it, with blankets and a couple other soft toys haphazardly thrown onto it. To the side of the seat was a writing desk that seemed as though a tornado had come through and thrown everything around on top of it. Papers – some written on, some still clean - were scattered every which way, some of them were even crumpled on the floor around the chair. Several pots of differently colour ink were half open and in various different places, with multiple writing implements following suit. A few books lay in disarray on the shelf above the desk, though they seemed to be notepads rather than reading material. Logan couldn’t bear to look at the disorganisation for long, and so he turned his attention across the room. Unexpectedly, he locked eyes with himself.

A large and equally as messy dressing table sat up against the opposing wall, a multitude of products and beauty tools covering the entire surface. But what was more interesting, and had Logan getting up onto his feet and crossing the wide space, were the in-built bookshelves that were situated in the rest of that particular wall. Every shelf was packed full of gorgeously bound books; some with treated leather, others with silver detailing and so much more. The ones that were within reach and seemed to have been read the most were books packed full of fictional tales, though Logan was only able to notice this once he began to read what was printed to the spines. By the titles alone, the mage could see there was a trend to most of the tales that had been read over and over – most seemed to include tall tales of brave heroes going out on grand, fantastical adventures, where they fight and defeat many villains along the way before ultimately performing some over-the-top act of bravery, therefore saving the day and becoming a well-known and revered hero to the people they protected. While Logan himself would never have ever chosen to fill a bookcase with such books, he couldn’t help but feel a slight tug of endearment to the practice. He could almost imagine Roman curled up on the window seat with one of these books open in his lap, his expressive face and body language showing every emotion he was feeling as he turned the pages. Perhaps he even acted some of his favourite scenes out, alongside his brother… Now that was an adorable image that crossed Logan’s mind. He coughed slightly as thinking about the crown prince in such a vulnerable moment caused his cheeks to flush ever so slightly, especially once the thought of Logan being able to witness such moments joined that. He instead attempted to distract himself by looking at the books lower down. It amused him that these were all of the ones used for the prince’s studies and a fair amount of them seem to have barely been touched due to the layer of dust that sat on them.

“Ah, I see you’ve found them.” Roman’s voice sounded from behind the mage, causing him to look over his shoulder. The prince was now dressed in far less than usual, which made sense as he was about to lay down to rest for the night. It didn’t stop Logan’s mind from screeching to a halt, especially as Roman approached and looked at the bookshelf himself. It took all of Logan’s willpower to not fade out and lose Roman’s words as the prince’s wonderfully toned and firm looking torso was close enough for him to reach out and touch… “It must be strange to you. Seeing all these stories in a similar place to that of those large tomes you keep all the way up there.”

“O-oh yes, it is indeed quite, uh, different from my, um… collection.” Logan quickly stood back to his full height, willing the pinkness in his cheeks to disappear quickly before the prince could take note of it.

Roman chuckled softly, gently placing a hand upon Logan’s shoulder, “If any of them interest you, you are more than welcome to peruse them at your leisure. My room is now open to you at all times. However, I would appreciate a slight warning of your entrance if I happen to be in here. No telling what you could stumble in on.” Logan had to internalise the splutter that wanted to escape him at the implication of Roman’s words.

The prince then turned and moved towards the bed, climbing onto it easily. Logan, now facing that direction, remained in his position near the bookshelf, uncharacteristically looking unsure of himself. Roman was a little concerned. “Is everything alright, Logan?”

“Hm? Oh, uh, yes, of course.” Logan attempted to reassure the prince, though his attempt clearly failed when he caught a glimpse of Roman’s worried expression.

“You are not obligated to stay with me here if you are uncomfortable with it.” Roman reassured his partner. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed closest to Logan. Roman wanted to leap off of the mattress and hold Logan in his arms, but he realised that it was likely to only worsen the situation, so he decided where he was would be a good middle ground.

Logan nodded gently, “I assumed so, but I would hate to disappoint you… You seemed so pleased and eager to bring me in here…”

“Logan…” Roman couldn’t help it now. He slipped off of the bed and approached the mage, carefully and gently reaching for the other man’s hands in order to hold them. Logan didn’t try to remove them from his grasp, which only pushed Roman on further, “There would be no disappointment at all. I wish to see you happy and content. If being here will do neither of those, then please do not feel any reason to stay. You are free to come and go as you wish.”

The mage searched Roman’s face for anything resembling a shift in his sincerity but found absolutely nothing. It made him relax a little.

“I am not displeased to be here with you, Roman. I very much would like to stay…” Logan trailed off, unsure of how to phrase the rest of what he knew he needed to say.

Roman simply smiled warmly, “and you are always welcome to. I do hope you don’t plan to sleep in all of this, however.” He jokingly tugged at the dress robes that still adorned Logan’s body.

Logan couldn’t help the soft snort that escaped him, “I absolutely did plan on that, in fact. This is what I wear every night, in fact. Is that going to be an issue for you?” Logan replied sarcastically, smiling a little more once Roman laughed again.

“I think I may have something far more suited to resting that you can wear. All of these layers cannot be that comfortable.”

Before he could realise it, Logan was being pulled towards the walk-in wardrobe. His stomach suddenly began to churn, and his heart-rate spiked as they stepped beyond the threshold and the rows upon rows of clothing filled his vision; the sight of himself in the wall-sized mirror at the opposite end of the room not helping his predicament. Logan willed himself to calm down, but his situation was only worsening by the second as Roman, completely oblivious, looked through one of the clothing racks.

“Ah, here it is. You can wear this until- Logan?” Roman cut himself off when he spun back around to see his partner almost pushing himself against the double doors as if he were trying to escape. Cautiously and carefully, Roman approached, “Are you sure you’re alright with staying? Something seems to be bothering you quite severely. Please do not force yourself for my sake.”

Logan shook his head. If he wasn’t going to do it now, he might never do it. Roman deserved to know. It was foolish of him to be so worked up over it. There was no way that Roman would reject him for who he was… right?

After taking a deep breath, the mage glanced up to Roman, “I… There is something you need to know, about me.”

Roman sat silently on the mattress, waiting for Logan to speak. He’d allowed the mage to do whatever he wished to feel comfortable, as the matter that was on his mind was clearly something that caused him a lot of distress. The prince had followed Logan’s every word and instruction without question and was now patiently sat facing the mage’s back. He wanted to ask questions, wanted to know everything so he could do whatever he could to help relieve some of the stress and strain. Yet he held his tongue. Even when Logan’s shoulders sagged heavily, when Logan had sighed and ran his hands down his face, when Logan glanced over his shoulder to him in order to ask him, “Please don’t be alarmed?”

The seconds stretched out into what felt like minutes as Logan mentally prepared himself. He grasped the edges of his robes, breathing calmly and slowly in order to maintain composure. Despite the part of him that was crying out for him to not do this, that was convinced he was likely about to lose the one thing he’d finally realised he’d wanted for all this time, Logan knew he had to. It would be unfair on both himself and Roman to keep it a secret for much longer. With one last steadying breath, Logan shut his eyes and removed the robes.

Roman’s eyes grew wide and he fought not to suck in a heavy breath at the sight before him. His hand automatically reached out to touch, the pads of his fingers catching on the edges of the uneven surface before him. He barely noticed that Logan was almost as still as a statue, waiting for him to say something. Roman was instead mesmerised by the scales that coated half of Logan’s back.

The prince’s eyes traced each and every one. He noted that they seemed to begin partway up Logan’s neck and widened out from there, reaching the midpoint of his back and running parallel to his spine all the way down until the trail disappeared beneath the remaining clothing that covered the mage’s lower body. There was something that was just so… captivating about them. The way the moonlight caught the tips and made the edges almost seem like a completely different colour, the pattern on each one that could only be seen once Roman got up close to them, the way they lay so flat against the mage’s skin and seemed to organically grow from a part of him. It was almost breath-taking. Roman had never seen them in person before.

Finally, he spoke, “I see why you must have been worried.” Roman noticed the slight shake to Logan’s body, now that he was finally out of his reverie and so he carefully rested his arms around him, pulling him into a loose hug. “I understand that it must have taken so much for you to share this, especially as this has only just begun. But, I will assure you that, no matter who you are, no matter where you came from, what your heritage may be, I will never think bad of you. I do not harbour any negative feelings for you with this new information and I doubt you will ever be able to convince me to think such a way about you. No matter your bloodline, no matter if you are descended from Yitra or not, that does nothing to change the way I feel for you, Logan.”

Silent tears slid down Logan’s cheeks and dripped to the floor at Roman’s words. Despite the self-consciousness in ever sharing his heritage with anyone past those who already know, despite the worry and fear of being shamed and cast aside for simply being born to those who were practically destroyed years ago, despite everything that he had built up for years and years by being cooped up in his tower for his own safety, someone was willing to look past it and still cared for him. Better yet, it was someone who Logan felt strongly for, someone he may even feel he loves with all of his heart. The pure emotional release had Logan’s rational thoughts being pushed aside in favour of his instincts.

He was easily able to turn around in Roman’s loose grip in order to grasp the prince’s face and press a forceful kiss to the royal’s lips, everything that Logan was unable to vocalise being poured into the physical gesture with the hope that Roman was able to understand at least a part of it. It was when Roman began to return the kiss and his arms tightened around Logan, holding him securely in place. That was the moment Logan knew he understood, and that everything would be fine.

---

---- Next Chapter

My other stuff: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/myworks Mobile Accessible Masterlist: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/post/181954641376/fic-masterlist

General Tag List: @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @didsomeonesayprince @llamaly @justanotherpurplebutterfly @iaminmultiplefandoms @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @lowkeyvirgilobsessed @louisthewarlock @fangsandrainbows @xxladystarlightxx @sleepyssnail @ao-koshka @notalwaysthevillian @pumpkinminette @doces-e--tuga @coloursintheblur @safesandersides

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#Sanders Sides #Fanfiction #Logince #Logan Sanders #Roman Sanders #Patton Sanders #Thomas Sanders #Logic Sanders #Creativity Sanders #Morality Sanders #Royal AU #Fantasy AU #Of Princes and Potions

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phil-dwyer-stan-account · 5 years ago

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Request: Eternity (Alistair x Reader)

(loosely based on “A Pearl” by Mitski)

Your fingers left slight indents in the moss-covered rungs as you climbed the ladder that blended into the thick tree trunk. You didn’t need to use the ladder, of course, but you had startled your mate by jumping into the treehouse one too many times. By now, you knew that it was best to let him hear you softly climb up. A ray of sunlight landed on your exposed arm as your sleeve inched up your wrist causing bright little lights to reflect off your diamond skin in all directions. But you needn’t be afraid, there were no humans around for miles. You had just drained and disposed of the nearest two that had strayed a little too far off of the hiking trails. You felt a pang of guilt knowing their families would never find them, but everyone has to eat, right? Finally, your head went through the gap in the floor of the little treehouse and you spotted familiar slightly wavy locks. Alistair was sitting on the corner of the bed with his back to you as you finished stepping into your home. “What are you reading?” You asked after a few minutes trying to get him to acknowledge your presence. He closed the ancient book and turned to face you, a slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as his eyes took in your face. You knew he loved you and getting a smile from him was a rarity most people would never get to experience, but sometimes you couldn’t help wanting more. You’d never even dream of changing him, but a little more affection would be nice. “Nothing too important. How was your hunt?” He glanced down at a few blood spatters that had managed to paint your green cotton shirt. “Good,” you answered nonchalantly shrugging, “I know I’ve only been a vampire for about a decade, but I’m still learning how to stay clean.” You stripped off your shirt in a quick motion to change into something new and you were certain that if he could have blushed, he would have. In a second you had a new shirt on, had thrown the shirt into a pile of laundry the two of you would have to do in the river near the closest town once night fell, and were seated next to him. You studied each other's faces. There was a familiar sorrow in his ruby eyes, but today it seemed a little bit more prevalent. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for hours taking in each others beauty. Of course, you didn’t only care for his beauty, every vampire was beautiful and it would be a miserable existence if you didn’t find a single attractive quality in his personality. You had known him for five years, but it took him a good two years of crossing paths with you to say anything more than hello. After another year of both of you denying your feelings, he invited you to come live with him and told you that he loved you. Over the years you fell in love with his intellect and care for the world around him. To say he didn’t trust people very much would be an understatement. But, he cared fiercely for the natural world. Animals were scared of your species, but if he found one injured he would do anything to nurse it back to health until it could be released back into the wild. He would appear out of seemingly nowhere to terrify anyone who thought about littering or polluting any of the forests, streams, or ponds around England. As nomads you hopped around frequently, but neither of you was meant to stay in the same place forever. What caused him to fall in love with you? You had no idea, but you were slowly getting him to open up. You enjoyed silence and solitude as well but in doses. If he had his way you guys would break the silence only once every few months. Again, you knew this wasn’t anything against you. And you tried to be patient with him, but sometimes it was hard to stop yourself from growing insecure. He sighed softly and you leaned in for a kiss, but you were confused when his lips didn’t meet yours. You opened your eyes and saw him leaning away from you. “Y/N,” he mumbled inching further away staring sadly at his lap, refusing to make eye contact. “Talk to me,” you pleaded, “what’s wrong?”. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.” He managed to fake a small tight-lipped smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Please don’t do this.” “Do what?” he fidgeted with his hands. “You can’t keep pretending everything is okay. I see it, Ali, I see it in your eyes.” “I don’t understand what you mean,” he sat carefully down next to you, but still didn’t touch you. His eyes studied yours. “I’m not enough for you. Or maybe I’m too much for you. I don’t know which, but I do know that you aren’t happy with me” You choked out turning your face away. “Y/N, don’t say such things.” “Why not . . . it’s the truth. I can leave if you want. I know we’re soul mates, but if you’re unhappy with me then we don’t have to be together.” If you could cry the tears would’ve blinded your vision by now, but thankfully the venom had destroyed your tear ducts. His placed his pale hand on top of yours softly and you shuddered. “Y/N you make me happier than I ever believed I could be in this cursed life,” he said holding your hand up and pressing it to his lips. “Then w-why…” “I have been screwed over by almost everyone I’ve ever met. My whole life was lived as a pawn for my father to gain power. The other barons would do anything to betray us. I never wanted to play everyone’s political games, but I was forced to. Any girl I could have courted only pretended to be interested to gain power as well or make alliances. My father threw me right into the line of fire, I gave him endless chances out of love. And in the end, he traded our whole family to sell my soul. Almost everyone in the world, vampires included are playing a game of ambition. People just use others then throw them away the minute they aren’t useful. How could I trust anyone?” Resentment growing in his voice as he flashed through countless memories. “I would never use you” you stated softly. “I know that. I truly do, but I’m used to fighting a war. I don’t know how to let go of it. I don’t know what I did to deserve your endless love. Honestly, you give me hope. But…” “But?” you asked waiting for the painful kick of whatever he was planning to say next. “I’m not used to it. I’m trying. I’m trying so hard to accept your selfless love for me. But I’ve met so few selfless people. I promise I’ll learn to let go of the past, but I need time.” He rested his head onto your chest and you engulfed him in your arms. “Shhh it’s okay,” you said rolling your thumb over his soft golden locks. “Y/N, please be patient with me. I don’t want you to leave. I never want you to leave” he begged looking up at you. “I’m not going anywhere, unless you tell me to. I know in time we’ll grow together. We have an eternity and I fully intend on spending it with you.” For the first time in ages, you saw him unclench his jaw as a full smile broke across his face.

#twilight #twilight renaissance #alistair twilight #twilight one shot #twilight imagines #request #anon #twilight saga #the twilight series #twilight revival #imagine #one shot #Alistair nomad #angst #mitski #a pear by mitski #mine

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xotis · 6 years ago

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Did you drop this? [Nathan Prescott/reader] (One shot)

Title:Did you drop this? [Nathan Prescott/reader] (One shot)

Rating: SOMEONE CHOKE ME THIS IS HELLA SEXUAL TOO, M FOR MATURE

Pairing:Nathan Prescott/Female!Reader (2nd Person, You/Your, Characteristic identified: can drive)

Summary: It was just one of those days you see a Prescott running from the security with his friends. Sadly, the idiotic boy doesn't know how to close his bag all the way as he drops something. Returning it would be a good idea but maybe

Word Count: 1,964

Warnings: Bondage, Foul language/Insults, Sexual short scene

Note: Yo this was inspired but a cute little bag picture I thought would make a good topic with a fic. Check it out~ I’ll also be writing the guys version of this but for now lets just say it was a normal bondage mag for ze ladies. ;) The guy versions gonna come out after I finish all my requests.

optional song: Alone by XXYYXX Its so soft but it has that edge to it you need when reading. My older sister said it sounds like the devil but Idk fits Nathan don’t you think? aha I’m kidding.

As soon as the bell rings you hear a fast footsteps and boys laughter behind you. You turn to look at the boys and your books were slammed to the ground as Hayden laughs and continues to run. You’re ex is such a douche but you know he didn’t have any ill intent while doing so. Soon you hear many steps passed by just as quick as Hayden, another set of steps and a collision between you and him. Things went by so quickly you didn’t even register the brown haired boy slip on one of your books from the pile on the floor. “Ah you fucking idiot, that hurts..” He said rubbing his head. Soon you hear David the security guard. Nathan stood up and ran but some things fell out his bag. he turned to take a quick look and continue to run. You grabbed your things and the stuff Nathan dropped. “Hey missy, you’re littering, I’ll see you in the principal's office.” You heard David said as he stops to lecture you. Now you understood why Hayden did that, that bastard owes you one. You nodded, not even listening as you walked passed him. You had poise and this school was anything but, you went to your dorm and entered your room.

“What the fuck did he drop.” You said as you open his bag to find some cigs, “Typical.” You mumbled.You continue to empty out your heavy bag and notice one thing that caught your eye. A porn mag and it's not any normal mag you would see your normal guy friends would have. You checked its contents filled with many people of both genders bounded and tied with thick rope. You notice all the uncomfortable positions and thought about how a person can do that. You spend the night reading about it listening to Alone by XXYYXX, it fit the mood as you flip through the pages, taking in the new information. Now that you finished with the book, you quickly checked the time to notice it was midnight. You twist and turn on your bed wondering why would the Prescott have such a book at school. Wondered if he liked to be bounded or bound someone. These questions go through your mind as you slowly fell into a deep sleep, tomorrow was Saturday so you have no classes.

You wouldn't even remember but it felt like your sleep was only 5 minutes because you hear loud banging on your door. You slowly stood up and trudge your way to the door, opening it slightly.

“My stuff. I know you have it bitch.” He said sticking his hand out. You looked down at his hand and tried to process what he said. “What are you doing here..” You said turning around slightly to look at your clock by your bedside, “at four in the morning? How did you even get in…” You said as you slowly closed the door. His hand grabbed the door roughly, making you flinch. “Give it.”

“If you know my name I'll let you in.” You said, glaring at him. He pushes the door open, making you fall on your butt. “Ouch you asshole.” You said rubbing your bum. “Where did you put it.” He said throwing your things everywhere. Oh no fucking way, you ran to him and tackled him, both of you landing on the ground “You don't just mess up someone's room you asshole!” You said punching the ground by his face. He flinched at first but soon he glares. “Give it back bitch, I'll get my dad on you.”

You grabbed the mag below your pillow and slapped it on his face harshly. “And I have a photo of you with this Mag.” You said, he grabbed the mag, “No you don't--” he says but he soon stops when you took a photo of him. “Yes. I do.” You said.

“You're gonna regret this bitch.” He said walking away. Soon you remembered what you did with that Mag a few hours earlier, halfway through the magazine you ended up touching your lower regions, soon imagining yourself being tied and suppressed like that. You were in a doggy position when you were imagining yourself, biting the sheets while you muffling your sound. “Ah...ah..Nate..” You continued to deliciously enjoy the moment, sadly you didn't hear the crumpling noises when you released yourself. You tried to fix it but the more you did so, the more worse it started to look, a few hours later you just decided to give up and leave it the way it was, a slightly crumpled page. Will he even notice it? Probably. What will happen if it was limited edition?! He's gonna ask for you to pay for it if you do. Well at least you have some blackmail material as well.

It's been over two weeks and Nathan has yet to say anything about it. Hayden paid you back by giving you a hundred, a good enough payment.

You soon start to lose interest about the mag. You thought long and hard as you were going to your car. Today was the last day before you go onto spring break. What you didn't expect to see was Nathan sitting on the hood of your car. You soon grew still. He took a quick glance up and walk to you, soon he was already face to face with you. “So I checked my magazine..”

“I know it's limited edition! Don't sue me and I don't have money to pay for it!” You yelled covering yourself with your book. You heard him laugh, sadly you couldn't see it.

“What a stupid slut. It wasn't limited edition. What I'm curious about is the crumpled page.” He said waving the book. “I never knew a girl would have the same interests as me. If you don't want me to say shit, we can have some fun for compensation?” He said when you put your books down to glare at him. “Fuck you Nathan.”

“That's exactly what I want you to do.” He said grabbing your hand to drag you to your car. “Let's spend the break together.” He says as his hand asks for the keys once you reached your car. “You're not gonna tell anyone right. No one. None.” you said as you hand your keys. Hayden said this kids actually a blast to hang out with but he has his suspicious moments. “Yeah sure.” He says as he opens the door and enters your car like its his. This is about the time you gave up asking any more questions. He’s gonna have it his way and his way only. The only question you had in mind was blurted out suddenly during the drive. “Hotel, your home, or mines?” you said as you looked at him. His side view was a sight to behold, the sunset glistening on his cold and focused eyes. He gave you a sideways glance, making your heart flutter a bit. “You seem eager for someone who’s gonna be suspended in the air.”

Your mouth widened, “You guarantee my safety right? No broken necks or anything?”

He drives your car out of town and you watch from the passenger seat as you pass your hometown sign. “And you’re paying for gas right?”

He chuckled and revved your car, passing the speed limit. “We’re going to a hotel I know nearby. They have everything I need.” You looked at him for any signs of a silly joke but the way he said it was determined. Your lower half reacts and your body slightly quivers. You want it, you don’t know if you wanted to be bounded or you want something in you but you know you want something and soon. He pulls up to the most docile looking hotel, having heard the previous conversation, this hotel is anything but. You thought you might be paying for your stay but it seems like Nathan can handle it with a basic nod to the receptionist. You followed him to the elevator and all the way to the top room. “What a view” you said as you entered the hotel room, all three walls aside from the entrance was a glass window. Providing no privacy anywhere but the bathroom. There was a slight sense of privacy considering it was the only hotel in a middle of nowhere. You were too busy paying attention to the view, you didn't notice Nathan opening his drawer softly to pull out ropes. Hardware ropes that would grip your skin and cause some bruises. “You can remove your clothes and lay on the middle of the floor.” He said as he threw everything under your feet. You see some of the most disturbing items on the floor. Noticing and recognizing at least the lube and an anal tail.

“You can’t be serious Nathan. I only agreed so you don’t tell anyone. I never even told Hayden about any of this.” You said as you remove your top eagerly, contradicting your own words. “Don’t bring up my friends, that’s weird” he said as he turns you to face him and pushes you on the floor. Your butt roughly meets the floor and you groaned, arching your back. He leans on top of you, towering over your body, slowly removing your clothes. Your body begins to react to his every touch. “Nathan, get on with it. I can’t wait any longer.” You say letting loose every thought that comes in your mind. He begins bounding one of your legs and throwing the rope up to the hook on top of the ceiling. “I hope you're ready.” He said as he pulls the rope and your body goes flying up. You go in almost a splits position, your leg hurting a bit. “What the fuck, Prescott.” You cursed. He wraps the rope on another hook on the ground, hidden under the floorboards that can only be revealed by lifting a piece of the floorboard. How many times has he been here? You thought as he wraps your hands together by another rope behind your back. “Choose, either I pull on your hair or your hands.” He said as he finishes the ropes. You were about to answer when you felt your arms being pulled as he thrusts into you. No preparation, you dig your nails into his forearms and you screamed. Pain and pleasure was mixed within your moans. Your body was already slightly prepared beforehand with all the teasing talk but it wasn’t prepared for the full thing. He grabs your leg and started thrusting in slowly. “How do you like being bounded. How about I bound more than your body.” Nathan says as he rubs your clit. Your body arches, most of the pain leaving your body. His dick rubbing your insides, your entrance getting wetter and wetter. Your body wanted release, but Nathan didn’t want you to yet. He stopped and he smirked. You look behind you, your eyes begging. You were close, you wanted to come. “Beg.” He says as he grips your leg with one arm. Your head goes back down, you want it, you needed it. “Please let me come. Give it to me.” You exclaimed, partially breathing in between. “Give what?” He said as he slowly tries to pull out. You moaned, “Your dick, I want your dick.”

He smirks and started thrusting in roughly. He didn’t care about your body, the pleasure was too much. You drooled and smile, coming. He pulls out and comes all over your body, painting a pretty picture. “We aren’t done yet.” He said. You have one hell of a ride with the Prescott and a a full spring break to explore your interests.

#nathan prescott #nathan prescott fanfiction #nathan prescott x reader #nathanprescottxreader #nathan prescott/reader #nathan (lis)#life is strange #life is strange fanfiction #lis

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