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orenjineki · 4 years ago

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Dabi the house-elf

Summary:When you don't get your Hogwarts letter at 11, you spam Hogwarts with letters until they get pissed of and send you a human Dabi who thinks he is a house-elf. And he's always naked and hung. Crap.

Warnings: Dub-Con, Dubious Consent, R18, Minors DNI

Notes: I am so sorry but I saw this tiktok by @savs_creates where Dabi is a house-elf and I just couldn't stop myself. https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMerqQ5Dc/

I thank @mangospams who is my greatest inspo when it comes to Yandere Dabi.

You had a house-elf. As a muggle. A house-elf. The size of a grown, human!, man with a sizeable…erm, well size. Not only his frame was decently sized but also his private parts, as you liked to call them in your mind when you happened to accidentally see them from the corner of your eyes when the brown bedsheets you had given the man? elf? once again did a terrible job at covering him.

Which you did not want to see since you were still unsure about his race. To be fair, you were unsure about a lot of things since you turned eleven. Up until your 11th birthday you were convinced that you would get a letter from Hogwarts, be declared a witch and go on a great many adventure with your new, magical friends in a school that was essentially a death trap for children. (They have a forbidden forest with giant spiders, that can and will eat you, unless you raised the og spider because you thought it was a cute pet!). The thought that Hogwarts was not real, merely a product of fiction, did not occur to you. And why would it, since quirks were real, why shouldn't magic be?

And so you waited for your letter, standing on the doormat of your home, looking for owls. But none came. But they had to! And so you waited. And waited. With the interruption of school, food and sleep. But not a single bird, not even a pigeon, dropped a letter with a red wax seal in front on your feet. But you never gave up hope, maybe they just got lost on their way?

You waited so long that you eventually turned twelve. Angry about this unreliability and with a feeling of betrayal, you decided to take matters into your own hands and write them a letter instead, ha! And so you did, every day, complaining about the fact that this magical institute had the audacity to not send you your magical letter! Heck, even an email would have been fine! Your parents tried to stop you at first but since you were somewhat decent at school, they let you keep your paper intense hobby. When you had sent your 6666thletter, way past your 18th birthday, you finally got an answer!

''Dear Ms. …,

We have received your thousands upon thousands of letters, demanding to be announced a witch and allowed into our school. However, we are glad to inform you that you are, through and through, a muggle. Usually we would ignore such profligate attempts at gaining something which you do not deserve but the amount of paper you have wasted for your letters poses a threat to the environment which muggle folk already treat with so much disrespect. Therefore, as a reimbursement, and a desperate attempt to get you to stop writing us, we will send you a human who thinks he is also a magical being without a trace of magic in his veins. In this case it is a human man who got hit with a confundus charm as a child and is convinced that he is a house-elf. When you finish reading this letter, you will find him standing in your kitchen, awaiting your orders.

Sincerely, the secretary of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry.''

Wait, so Hogwarts is real? And you have a house-elf/human now? What? You drop the letter and rush into the kitchen to see a man, with white hair, piercing blue eyes and piercings on…anyway. You couldn't decide what was more confusing about the situation. The fact that he appeared out of nowhere, the fact that large parts of his body were burned or the fact that he was naked. You decided to accept this new version of reality by staring at him incredulously for a good five minutes, in which he did not blink once, staring back at you.

Since he didn't say anything and you started to feel a little drowsy from this… revelation, you decided to end the day early and go to sleep in your one-room apartment. Sadly, your apartment was too small to hide in another room, hoping that he would be gone, only a really weird dream, when you woke up and entered the living room the next morning. Sadly, your living room was also your bedroom and your kitchen and so you could only turn around and stare at the wall incredulously until you fell asleep. The next morning you woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed, since your apartment was always too cold to catch a good night's sleep. But somehow you felt really warm, as if you had shared the bed with another, very warm body.

…

Was that breathing you heard near your ear, right behind you? You turned around in a millisecond and went right back to incredulously staring at your house-elf-human. Holy shit, he was still there. And naked. And now he spoke, making it even harder to ignore his existence. ''Is master mad at Dabi? Should Dabi burn himself as punishment?'' He raised a hand and a very hot and very scary looking blue flame emerged from it. Great, so you had a crazy human who was convinced to be a house-elf with a fire quirk in your very small and very expensive apartment. Just great. You decided to pretend this was real. Maybe if you went along with it, he would be revealed to be a figment of your imagination and someone would send you to a mental hospital where live might be a bit more normal than this. ''N…n…no, please don't! I'm just confused, it's fine, you did nothing wrong.''

And so you had a human house-elf. You tried really hard to convince him that he wasn't an elf, but his believe in his magicalness was as unyielding as 11 year old you's. You decided to just treat him like a really confused roommate. Very, very confused. He kept standing or laying as close to you as possible, staring at you so hard you worried he would set you ablaze with his eyes. Those eyes…

They were always on you. If it wasn't such a weird situation, he might have been your type, though more ''normal'' in his speech patterns preferably. The scars didn't look ugly, just saddening when you wondered about the pain his quirk must have caught him. In order to give him and you more privacy, you gave him an old brown bedsheet as clothing since he refused anything that was new and without holes. He was actually quite helpful around the household, watching you doing daily chores and picking them up immediately the next day until all you had left to do yourself was work and grocery shopping.

He did however always manage to make you slightly uncomfortable with the way he would stare at you whenever he had nothing to do but you had to write a paper or watch a cat video. And he was absolutely horrible when he interacted with other people, other men to be exact. One time, when you forgot to tell him to hide under the blanket when the doorbell rang, the delivery man had been visible from the kitchen unit and he stared at him, an eerie smile on his face, and a blue flame in one hand. You decided to push the delivery man out of his view, grabbed the package and slammed the door shut. After that you had a serious discussion about ''politeness'' with Dabi and he just kept insisting that ''Master doesn't need anyone else, only Dabi''.

You tried to talk him out of this worldview, but every time you even remotely disagreed with him, the room suddenly got very hot and smoke poured out of his ears and you decided to drop it. Maybe you should get a post office box instead.

From that day on everything seemed mostly fine, until you came home from work, very exhausted, with a sore neck. You yawned a lot more than usual when you tapped away on your phone and stretched your arms and moved your head around in a desperate attempt to ease the pain. Suddenly, two very warm hands found their way on your shoulders and a very hard and apparently large cock pressed into you from behind.

You gasped in shock, your breath stopping. Soft, white hair tickled your neck when your ''house-elf'' whispered into your ear: ''Does master need help relaxing? Dabi saw some of those massage videos master always watches at night on her phone. The humans in the videos look very calm after the massage.''

Your eyes widened in realization and horror, your ''house-elf'' had found your browser history. Great…

You tried to wriggle free from his hold, but only managed to rub your ass into his hard, and pierced, member, making the ''house-elf'' groan softly. The deep noise made your legs quiver and pulled a pathetic whimper from your lips. To your own shame, the most recent ''massage video'' you saw came to your mind and you wondered if he would really go this far. Before you could form another coherent thought, he let go of you to grab a glass of coconut oil from the fridge, melting it's content in his hands.

Then, his oily hands wandered, one under your shirt to softly massage your left nipple and make you whimper, the other under your waistband, inside your panties, to softly rub at your clit. Apparently, he had seen one of the more ''romantic'' videos, because you also felt his lips press soft kisses all over your neck and collarbone. Maybe he was really a magical creature, since the way he played with your admittedly very single body wiped all coherent thought from your mind. He kept rubbing and rubbing your clit until you came with a very embarrassing, very high-pitched moan.

''Don't worry master, Dabi will make you feel even better''. Before you could really grasp what he meant, something warm, hard and big was slowly pressed into your now soaked pussy. An even bigger, even more pathetic whimper left your lips. At your very audible reaction to his actions your ''house-elf'' stilled inside you once he bottomed out and laid his chin on your shoulder, looking at you with the widest eyes you ever saw on him. ''Is Master in pain?''.

You shook your head, bit down on your lip, and realized that you desperately needed him to pound you against the kitchen counter. ''I'm…I'm fine, please just move''. The desperation was very audible in your voice and the look of concern disappeared from Dabi's face. Instead, he licked your ear and whispered:'' Only if you Master admits that master belongs to Dabi''.

''W…what?!''

''Say it or Dabi will burn the next man that tries to sneak into master's home with a package.''

''O..ok, whatever. Master belongs to Dabi''.

The reaction where a dark chuckle and a kiss to your ear before he pulled out of you completely to thrust back in. When you didn't protest and your moans only grew in volume, his hands wandered and he started to squeeze each breast with a very large and warm hand. For the second time that night you wondered whether he actually was magical, since this felt like a very ''magical'' experience. Definitely fantastic with the way the various piercings battered into your g-spot and your clit, making you moan and whine just as loud as the women in your ''massage videos''. When Dabi saw your head fall back on his shoulder and your tongue roll out, he decided to make sure that everyone could see you were his and bit down on your neck, hard. You yowled out in pain but he compensated for it by rubbing your clit and thrusting so hard that you came on his cock half a minute later. The sensation of your walls squeezing him tightly and your cute whines also pushed him over the edge and you could feel his warm seed trickle out of you once he slowly retreated.

The house-human picked you up and held you bridal style in his arms before you could collapse. You still groaned softly from the overstimulation and he carried you to your very small shared bed. After carefully tucking you into bed and pulling you into his naked chest, he softly pushed your hair out of your face and gave you a number of soft kisses all over you face, on your nose, cheeks and mouth.

Before you managed to fall asleep, completely exhausted, you could hear him whisper into your hair after kissing your head:

''Now Master is Dabi's mate. I love you master, but if I ever see another man at the door I will turn him into a pile of ash''.

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi smut #mha smut #mha crack #dabi crack #yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #mha yandere #yandere mha #dubcon #dub-con #tw dubcon

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innaminitus · 4 years ago

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Alone

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Request: Hi! I love your work. I was wondering if I can please have Sirius Black x FemReader smut. Where they spend Christmas with reader's muggle family. Reader's family is so in love with her charming new boyfriend that the two barely get a second to themselves. They have tried to sneak away and let's say they have been caught in some comprising positions. Eventually, they get time to themselves for some adult fun. (form: @sweetandsourfics)

Warnings: smut, young!sirius, shitty proofreading

Word count: 1898

A/N: this took so freaking long to finish, i’m sorry. also tumblr hates me and i am upset because this post won’t show up on the “recent” page (therefore reblogs are very welcome and apprieciated)

Nervous wasn’t the word that could possibly describe how you felt. Scared would maybe be better. Terrified, perhaps. You boyfriend, on the other hand, seemed as excited as ever. His shaggy hair was glistening with melted snow, his smile bright as the sun. He was so happy… Christmas was always special time for you, but never for him. You wanted to change it, and he was more than pleased to let you. That’s why you invited him to spend Christmas with you and your family. Your parents were always supportive, and always so curious about the wizarding community, so when you wrote them a letter asking if it was okay for Sirius to come they were happy to agree. Only now it didn’t seem like a good idea. Sirius was charming and funny, but what if your parents won’t like him?

“Y/N!” Your mom stormed out of the house as soon as you got out of the cab. She closed you in a tight hug. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“Me too,” you laughed in her hair, hugging her back. She smelled like cinnamon sticks and dried oranges, the best possible scent ever.

Your dad walked to you as well and grabbed your suitcase after hugging you.

“Mom, dad, this is Sirius.” You grabbed his hand and smiled lovingly at his rosy cheeks.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” You boyfriend wasn’t intimidated at all when he shook hands with your dad, and was just a bit surprised when your mom pulled him into a hug.

“We’ve heard so much about you!” She took a step back, but still held his arms. “I hope you like casserole, Y/N told me you do, so I made some for today’s dinner and–“

“Honey,” your dad stopped her chattering. “Let’s go outside first, it’s snowing again, we’ll freeze here.”

“Yes, you’re right,” she laughed and shook her head. “I’m just so glad to have you both here.”

Your father opened the door and let you all in. “Sirius will sleep in the guest room, is that alright?”

“Perfect, sir,” he answered, smiling widely.

“I’ll show him the room,” you anticipated your mom, who already opened her mouth, and grabbed Sirius’ hand.

You dragged him to said room and sighed when he closed the door behind him. He placed his bag on the bed and turned to you with soft smile.

“Your parents are really cool, you know?” He gently grabbed your face in his hands and brought you as close as he could without breaking eye contact.

“They can be a little… too much. Especially mom,” you laughed softly.

He leaned and kissed your smile, warmth of his lips made you lean onto him and wrap your arms around his waist. You opened your lips slightly, his tongue slipped into your mouth.

“Kids!” You heard your mom calling you. “Come for dinner!”

With a sigh you kissed Sirius once again and with slight smile left the room.

***

You thought that trying to get some private time was hard enough at Hogwarts, but your home was whole another level of impossible. The thing is, your parents really loved Sirius. He was charming, as always, and he soon became their favorite. Everything had to be approved by him, every dish seasoned to his liking, and they never had enough of his stories about the “big, wizarding world” as they called it. It was all adorable and you were happy they liked him, but it made everything much more difficult for you.

First night when Sirius tried to sneak into your room, the squeaking floor woke your parents and your mother rushed out of the bed to give Sirius a glass of water he surely woke up for. Yes, your parents were all too helpful.

But now… this could be the day. Your father and mother went out to buy some groceries for Christmas and currently you were sitting on Sirius, his tongue in your mouth, your fingers lost in his black hair. His hands were on your hips, guiding you slightly back and forth, just enough so you could grind onto his hard length still trapped in his jeans. You were purposefully wearing only skirts, so now the stiff material of this trousers rubbed you perfectly through your thin, wet panties. You sighed in his mouth when he moved you harder on his hardness, just enough to hit your pulsing clit. You brought him closer, feeling the pleasure slowly spill in your lady parts. While one of his hands stayed on your hips, the other travelled up, under your sweater where it kneaded your breast through your soft bra.

The door swung open. “Honey, I forgot to ask you– Oh.�� You’ve never jumped so fast before. Your mom was all red, with her hand on the doorknob and shopping list in the other. “–If Sirius likes spinach.” She decided to pretend as if nothing was happening before she entered the room and you thanked for that in your mind, even though she seemed a little struck.

“I– I love spinach,” Sirius said, breaking uncomfortable silence. “But maybe I should go with you, I’m sure you could use someone to carry the groceries.”

You knew what he was doing. He wanted to make your mom feel more comfortable with the thought that you two won’t be alone at home again, and even though your pussy ached for his dick like never before you had to admit it was smart. He dulled her vigilance, and she would soon forget it.

“Yes, thank you, dear.” She smiled at him hesitantly. “It would be a great help.”

He touched your hand reassuringly and left with your mom. You heard him put on his shoes and your mom asking whether there were Christmas songs in this “wizarding world”, and then them closing the door.

You were left alone in the guest room that already smelled like Sirius, with your panties wet and pulsing pussy. With a sigh you lied down on the pillows, accidentally landing on his shirt. You wanted to move it out of your way, but as soon as your fingers touched the fabric you felt your beloved scent of brown sugar and cheap cigarettes and your pussy throbbed again.

You knew they weren’t going to be back within an hour… and you were so horny. Without a second thought you brought the shirt closer to your face, closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, until your whole existence consisted only of this smell. Your hand slid under the skirt and touched soaking panties. You were all sensitive from grinding onto Sirius and even the slightest touch was enough to make you pant. You grabbed the material and pulled it up, so the panties formed a single stipe of fabric that sunk between your folds. You pulled it again, rubbing it against your clit, and continued doing so until the pleasure got mixed with Sirius’ scent, until your clit was swollen and pulsing and your panties so wet they slid up and down your cunt without any effort at all. Soon you felt orgasm building in your body, you bit onto the shirt and moaned your way through ecstasy and shaking knees. That goddamned boy.

***

You weren’t sleeping at night, you were wondering how to finally get some time alone with Sirius, and nothing, absolutely nothing was coming to your head. Your mom would surely be more careful with leaving you two alone and it was already the night before Christmas, which meant only two days more at your house, since you were going back to Hogwarts for New Year’s Eve to spend it with the rest of your friends.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the soft knocking on your door. Sure it was your mom you got up and, yawning, opened the door, almost screaming when you saw a black dog. Your heart skipped the beat and the dog silently walked into your room.

“Sirius! You almost scared me to death!” You whispered, trying to calm yourself down as he turned back to his human form in all of his naked glory.

“Was hopin’ you would forgive me that,” he smirked as he slowly walked to you, who were unable to move, absolutely struck. “Your parents really have light sleep, but I figured I am much more silent as a dog.” He caught your chin in two fingers and forced you to look up into his face. “But we have to be very quiet which I know you are not too good at.”

“I’ll be quiet, I promise,” you gasped as he leaned down for a kiss.

“It also means we have to be quick.”

“I don’t need foreplay.”

He smirked again. “Great,” he laughed silently and slid down your pajama pants “because you’re not getting any.”

He lifted you up and placed you on your bed, hovering over you. His big hands pushed onto your thighs to spread your legs wide and for a second he admired your glistening pussy, still a little swollen from your previous fun. He looked at your blushed face with a wide smile. Oh, he knew what you were doing earlier.

He lined his cock with your entrance. You expected him to slid into you little by little, as usual, to give you time to adjust, but he was needy. He thrusted into you whole at once, making you gasp. You quickly covered your mouth with your hand, sudden feeling of being so marvelously full almost made you come on the spot. He pulled out almost entirely only to slam back into you, then again, and again, and again until he found the rhythm that would be hard enough for both of you and not make the bed hit the wall each time.

His hands were pressing on your thighs, spreading them wider with every thrust, but it was he pillow that you placed under your lower back that made him reach deeper, in a better angle that made you both shiver. He quickened slightly, his hair a beautiful mess as you reached to pull it, so you could kiss him on his sweaty cupid’s bow. Your other hand was between your bodies, rubbing circles on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, close enough to come. When you saw sparkles in his eyes you knew he was close, too.

“Fuck,” he panted. “Fuck, Y/N… Can I cum in you?”

He’s never done it before and the thought made you excited. You were safe thanks to magic and the idea of his cum spilling deep inside of you was enough to make you come immediately.

“Yes! Fuck, cum in me, Sirius!” You moaned, his hand quickly covered your mouth.

A few fast thrusts helped you ride down your orgasm, but then you felt it. The hotness of his cum as it shot into you and uncontrolled spasms made you come again, this time even harder, hard enough to make you bite your lower lip to blood.

Sirius, panting, slid out of you and lied down next to you. As you felt his semen flowing down your thighs you heard your clock make a silent sound that meant it was midnight.

“Merry Christmas, Sirius,” you whispered and gently kissed his bare arm.

He smiled as he looked at you.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

#sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut

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bumblebee-moreno · 3 years ago

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Awkward meetings (GN!reader)

Request: "Awkward first meeting for all the boys" and "Awkward first meeting and You lost something very important to you and they’re helping you look for it with Frankie Morales" for @luminescentlily

(Boys included are: Din, Javier Peña, Agent Whiskey, Frankie Morales, Max Phillips, Marcus P, and Marcus M.

Warnings: None?

A/N: Sorry this took so long to write. I had to leave a few boys out due to writer's block (Ezra, Tovar, and Zach Wellison), and I wanted to get this posted rather than continuing to stare at the screen in hopes of my brain miraculously functioning. To make up for my lack of inspiration at least a little bit, I added Marcus Moreno. Hope that's ok :)

Din Djarin

You feel a tug at your pant leg. Looking down, you are greeted by a pair of large watery eyes and big green ears. “Well hello there,” you smile, crouching down to be closer to the small child. “Where’s your family?”

He simply responds by lifting his arms towards you. You take that to mean he’d like to be lifted up. Scanning through over the crowded marketplace, you search for someone who the kid might belong to. You really have no idea what you’re looking for, having never seen anything like him, but you search nonetheless.

“Hey!” an angry voice calls out behind you. You whirl around, and before you know what’s happening, the child has been torn from your grasp and there’s a blaster to your head.

“I wasn’t going to hurt him I swear, I was just trying to find his family,” you blurt out, raising your hands in surrender.

The figure in front of you doesn’t respond at first, keeping his blaster pointed at you while he inspects the child for injury.

“Why did you have him?” The voice from under the helmet demands.

“I just found him by himself and I wanted to make sure he found his family,” you explain, voice shaking. “Are you his… Does he belong to you?”

“… yes.” He cautiously returns his blaster to its holster.

“I’m sorry,” you relax. “I didn’t mean to scare you. He’s just so… small. I didn’t want him to stay lost.”

The Mandalorian clutches the kid close to his chest as if he’s afraid they’ll be separated again. “Thank you.” He nods his head just enough for you to see the motion.

Javier Peña

“Shit, I’m going to be so fucking late,” you mutter to yourself, walking as fast as you can without sending the tall stack of papers in your arms flying.

On your way down the hall, you start going down your mental checklist.

‘Closed the window so the cat doesn’t escape? Check.’

‘Turned off the lights? Check.’

‘Locked the front door? Fuck.’

You stop in your tracks. How could you forget to lock your front door? You spin on your heel and run back towards your apartment, your one free hand switching between searching for your keys and adjusting the unstable tower balanced on your other arm.

In your haste to get your apartment locked so you can get to work on time, you fail to watch where you’re going.

Your body smacks into another. You fall backwards, losing your grip on the meticulously organised files. They scatter across the floor, completely losing the order you’d spent all night putting them in. The wind is knocked out of you for just long enough to hear the man you ran into grumping about how you should watch where you’re going.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I’m running late, I should’ve been paying more attention.” You pull yourself to your knees and start gathering your work off the floor. You’d normally stand and make sure the man you ran into is okay, but things at work are tense as it is, and being even later than you already are isn’t going to reflect well on you. Especially now that all of last night’s hard work needs to be done over.

You expect him to get up and walk past you. After his reaction to being practically tackled, you wouldn’t expect him to give you more than a second thought. But then a stack of papers lands on top of the one you’re already holding.

Your eyes shoot up to meet his. “You okay? You hit the ground kind of hard there,” Your neighbour asks.

You swallow thickly. “y-yeah, I’m fine,” you give a shaky smile. “How about you?”

“I’m all right, just running a bit late,” He offers a hasty smile before helping you to your feet. “I gotta get to work, but um, I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, momentarily forgetting how late you are.

Agent Whiskey

‘Ugh I really needed this day off,’ you type underneath the photo before pressing send.

You place your phone on the edge of the tub before relaxing back into the warm water.

It isn’t long before your phone buzzes. Your eyes widen in horror at the response:

‘I think you’ve got the wrong number, darlin’.’ It’s paired with a photo of a man you’ve never met.

He is kinda cute though. You’d never think the whole “unironically cowboy” thing could ever work but… No. No. You can’t be thinking that kind of stuff. You just texted a stranger a photo of you in the bath for fuck’s sakes, you can’t be attracted to him after that!

You frantically scroll up to examine the photo you sent, breathing a sigh of relief when you confirm that the photo you sent didn’t have anything too revealing in it; between the angle of the camera and the bubbles in your bath, nothing too embarrassing is visible.

‘Shit, I’m so sorry, that was meant for a friend ’

You pick up the shred of paper your best friend scribbled their new number on while you were at lunch with them yesterday, to figure out what happened.

‘not a problem, It’s a nice distraction from this god awful meeting I’m stuck in’

You frown. ‘You’re in a meeting and you’re texting a total stranger?’

You return your gaze to the phone number in your hand. “what in the fuck,” you say aloud to yourself. The second to last digit. It’s supposed to be a 4. Not a 9.

A shaky photo appears on your phone. It’s obviously taken from peeking just the camera of his phone over the edge of the table.

‘Damn, that looks like a serious meeting, shouldn’t you be paying attention?’ If you were texting at work, especially in a meeting, you’d have your ass handed to you unless someone was dying (and even then, it would depend on what kind of mood your boss is in that day). And this guy is just casually texting you, a stranger, during a meeting with people who look like they make more money weekly than what your whole car is worth.

‘I’m a bit more concerned that I don’t even know the name of the person who texted me such a lovely photo 😉’

‘It’s Y/N.’ you send. ‘And please delete that picture, that’s kinda private’ you ask, crossing your fingers that he respects that.

‘Already done. Mine’s Jack, since you obviously weren’t going to ask 🤠’

A soft smile appears on your face. Maybe it is kind of okay that you accidentally typed in the wrong number. Or… it will be after you (lovingly) cuss out your friend for having such bad handwriting.

Frankie Morales

“Shit.” You mutter to yourself, searching through your pockets. “shitshitshitshitshitshitshit” You swear you just had them. Or… maybe you left them on the counter back at the library?

You turn around to run back, rifling through your bag. You only make it a few steps before you’re knocked backwards to the ground.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you blurt the moment you catch your breath again. Barely sparing a glance towards the man you ran into, you start gathering your books.

“No, no. I’m sorry,” the man insists. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” He helps to gather your books.

“You okay?” he finally asks.

You look up at him and freeze. He’s really cute. In the ‘I give the best hugs in the world’ kind of way.

“Yeah,” you respond breathlessly. “I just think I lost my car keys at the library, and I’m running late for lunch with a friend.” You mentally kick yourself. You just ran over the only attractive man you’ve seen since moving here, and then the first thing you do is overshare?

“Oh, did you want some help looking?” he immediately offers.

“I wouldn’t want to be any trouble.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugs. “I’ve got lunch plans I’m desperately trying to find an excuse to get out of, so you’re helping me, really.”

“Okay, um… sure,” you nod. “an extra set of eyes looking wouldn’t hurt.”

“Cool. I’m Frankie.”

You introduce yourself and shake his outstretched hand.

The two of you make your way back towards the library.

“so…” you break the uncomfortable silence. “Lousy lunch plans, huh?”

“…yeah,” Frankie falls silent for a moment. “A couple of guys I used to serve with invited me out and I didn’t really have an excuse to say no.”

“Don’t get along with them?”

“We used to be friends, but I’m kind of rethinking that lately.”

“Oh,” you debate asking more questions. But then again, he doesn’t have to answer if he doesn’t want to, right? “Did… did something happen?”

“Convinced me to go to South America a while back, which would’ve been fine, except we kind of got stuck there, and my wife was left alone with the baby.”

Your stomach dropped at this. You’re not even sure why; you just met the guy, you really have no reason to be disappointed he’s taken.

“Was she at least understanding?” You ask.

“huh?”

“Your wife.”

“Oh,” Frankie chew his lip for a moment. “no. When I got back, she was… possessive. Searching my phone, never letting me go out with friends, that kind of stuff. Separated a few months later.”

“Oh,” you try to ignore the fact that your heart skipped a beat; you can’t be excited—that’s insensitive. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” Frankie pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, actually. I was helping you find your keys, and here I am ranting about my whole tragic backstory as if you actually cared.”

“I don’t mind.” You actually like listening to him. But you keep that to yourself.

“You shouldn’t have to listen to all that though—”

“Shit!” you interrupt him. “I’m such an idiot.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Frankie looks like he’s assuming the worst.

“…I didn’t lose my car keys. I walked here. And lunch with my friend is next week.” You chuckle bitterly. “I was so lost in my head I completely forgot she rescheduled. Sorry I wasted your time.”

“It’s okay,” Frankie laughs. You can’t help but smile at his lopsided dimple. “Hey, since you don’t have lunch plans and I want to get out of mine… Can I take you out? You can tell me your life’s story since you already know mine?”

“Sure,” you smile, though half of you is screaming to just leave the country to escape the embarrassment.

Max Phillips

“Ew, no.” you scrunch your nose.

“Hey, you’re the one that lost the bet.” Eva insists.

“I am not kissing a random stranger.” You sweep your gaze across the crowded café.

“It was your idea.” Eva sips her tea.

“That was because I thought I was going to win.” You cross your arms across your chest.

“You don’t get to opt out just because you’re a sore loser.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know them, what if they have a disease or something? Gross.” Your stomach turns at the idea.

“Okay, fine.” Eva sighs. And, for a fleeting moment, you have hope that she’s given in. “Kiss that guy then,” she points.

You turn. “Oh my god, Eva. No.”

“What? He doesn’t look like he has a disease,” Eva shrugs.

“He looks like a frat boy.”

“He’s cute though.” Eva leans in a not-at-all-subtle way to get a clearer view of him.

“I hate you.” You stand up. “And when I’m done, you’re buying me an entire bottle of vodka to wash my mouth with.”

“Yes!” Eva cheers triumphantly. A few people shoot her expressions of annoyance at the outburst.

You storm over to the man and pull him in by the collar. His lips barely brush against yours before you’re stomping back to your friend. Though, for a moment, you actually consider staying to talk to him. Eva was right, he definitely isn’t hard on the eyes.

You push the thought from your mind and collapse back into your seat, scowling at your friend.

“You’re literally the worst human being on the planet,” you huff.

“You’re just being dramatic,” Eva laughs.

“Am not.” Okay… maybe you are, but Eva can’t know that.

“Fine. We’ll go get you a drink once I’m back from the bathroom.” Eva skips off, still laughing about your reaction.

She’s barely out of sight before her seat is filled by the stranger you just kissed.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I lost a bet,” you don’t look up at him, instead choosing the glare at a stain on the wooden table.

“I figured as much.” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “I also figured I have the right to at least know the name of the person who just kissed me.”

You reluctantly introduce yourself, still refusing to make eye contact with the man.

“I’m Max. And, if you want to apologise for kissing me without my consent,” he throws a napkin with a phone number scribbled in red sharpie onto the table in front of you, “You can call me.”

Marcus Pike

You hum quietly to yourself, unable to stop smiling. It’s been so long since you’ve gone on a real date. You turn on your shower, but instead of water coming from the showerhead, it starts leaking from the base of the hose.

That can’t be good. You turn off the water and fiddle with the shower. Maybe it just came loose.

You reach for the handle to try the water again. But before your hand can even touch the cool metal, the entire shower head disconnects from the wall and clatters to the shower floor.

Letting out an exasperated groan, you start gathering your clothes into a bag. You really don’t have time for this today. Crossing your fingers your neighbour is home, you head next door.

You’ve never actually talked to him, but you figure he’s probably a safer bet than the crazy old neighbour on your other side; the way he looks at you whenever you run into him gives you the jitters. And not the “he’s a creep” kind of feeling you get when anyone else stares for too long. More like the “he’s probably got a taxidermy cat in his living room and a human body in his closet�� kind of feeling. So the neighbour you’ve never even introduced yourself to will have to do.

Your knock echoes through the quiet air. Shifting from foot to foot, you wait impatiently for an answer.

The door clicks open, leaving you face-to-face with your neighbour, who is way cuter up close than you expected him to be.

“…hi,” He greets you as if he’s startled by your presence.

“…hi…” you bite your lip and tear your gaze away from his face to examine your shoe. “I… Well, I live next door, and well—”

“I know,” he interrupts.

“I-What?”

“I’ve seen you… around. We get home from work at the same time, so…”

“Oh.” You chew on your lip for a moment. “Look, my shower broke, and I have a date I have to get to, and well…” you drift off. Are you really asking your irresistibly adorable neighbour who you’ve never met if you can use his shower?

“Oh. Okay, did you want to use mine then?” You pretend not to notice how pink his face has turned.

“Would you mind? I just—I’m running late and I don’t have time to figure out what’s wrong with mine before I leave and still have time to get ready to go.”

“Sure, Come on in,” He shuffles out of the way to allow you space to enter. “Down the hall, second door to the right.”

“Thank you so much,” you smile awkwardly. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

You walk as quickly as you can without breaking into a run to get to the bathroom, leaving Marcus frozen in the doorway.

This is not how he imagined meeting you. Not that he imagined that at all. And he definitely hadn’t spent hours trying to figure out how to ask you out. Because that would be weird.

And he just let you use his shower to go on a date with someone else.

Fuck.

Marcus Moreno

“Excuse me,” a voice speaks up from behind you, just barely audible over your music. You turn around to find that the voice belongs to a young girl.

“Hello,” you greet taking out your headphones.

“Do you see that guy over there?” she asks, pointing across the cluttered bookstore to a man struggling to balance a tower of books while skimming the shelves for more.

“The one in the glasses?” you confirm.

“That’s my dad,” the girl nods. “He thinks you’re cute, but he’s too afraid to talk to you.”

“Oh,” you say, unsure whether you should be flattered or amused.

“He says it’s ‘cause he doesn’t want to weird you out,” she elaborates, “but I think he’s scared you won’t like him back.”

The man glances up, and, upon seeing his daughter talking to you, rushes over. He pauses only briefly when he trips over a box of books placed in the middle of the walkway.

“Oh, here he comes, act natural,” the girl whisper-yells just before her father arrives. “Oh, hey dad,” she greets him nonchalantly.

“Missy, what did we just talk about?” he scolds.

“I know, I know,” she rolls her eyes. “I shouldn’t go up to strangers and tell them my dad thinks they’re cute even when he totally does.”

Missy’s dad freezes, a look of horrified embarrassment washing over his face. “You… You told them what?”

“I’m going to shop some more,” she walks away, winking at you.

“Hey, you get back here, young lady,” he calls after her, struggling not to raise his voice above a murmur in the middle of the peaceful book shop. His daughter ignores him.

He groans under his breath. “I’m sorry about her,” he turns back to you.

“It’s okay,” you laugh. “I’m Y/N,”

“Marcus.” He looks down at his armful of books. “I’d uh… I’d offer a handshake but…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile. Marcus smiles back. You allow a moment of uncomfortable silence before speaking up again. “So… you think I’m cute?”

“What? No! I mean, Yes. I mean…” Marcus’ face scrunches up in embarrassment. “Yes? But not… not in a weird way. I wasn’t like… admiring you or anything. That’d be… weird.” Marcus hangs his head with an exasperated sigh. “I’m sorry. I’ll just shut up now.”

You smile again at the flustered man in front of you. After a moment, you pull a pen from your sweatshirt pocket.

“Well, here’s my number,” you say, writing as clearly as you can across his forearm. “You can text me if you decide you do think I’m cute… In a weird way.”

You walk to the counter to pay for your books, sincerely hoping he decides to text.

---

Taglist:

@pascalisthepunkest @trashbin2 @anatanotegami @beesting77 @northernpunk @pumpkin-stars

#Din djarin #Javier Peña #Agent Whiskey #Frankie Morales #Max Phillips #marcus pike #marcus moreno #gender neutral reader #gn reader #pedro pascal

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waitimcomingtoo · 5 years ago

Text

Oh My God, They Were Roommates

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: You’re tired of denying your relationship in every interview, but Tom insists on keeping it a secret. Lucky for you, he’s terrible at keeping secrets

Masterlist

Secretly dating Tom Holland was not an easy job. You were his on and offscreen girlfriend, no people naturally wanted you to be together in real life. Towards the beginning of your relationship, you both agreed to keep it private. You’d managed to deny relationship rumors for over a year until you discovered something:

You and Tom were really really bad at keeping it a secret.

Far too many times, you’d do or say something that confirmed your relationship. And far too many times, you’d have to go on twitter to say it was a joke and that you and Tom were just friends. You hated lying to your fans about the nature of your relationship, and Tom wasn’t fond of it either. You didn’t want to lie anymore. You were ready for the world to know. And yet, the worst secret keeper in Hollywood was determined to keep it a secret.

It all started with social media.

You had stirred up rumors that you and Tom were dating when you dyed your hair red after being cast as MJ and posted a photo of it, captioning it “Face it tiger…”. Tom couldn’t help himself from commenting “I hit the jackpot.” The Spider-Man and MJ reference did not go over people’s heads and the rumors were born.

“This would be such a cute way to confirm our relation.” You smiled as your scrolled through the comments of your picture. “We should tell them.”

“Not yet, darling. I’m not ready for the world to know.” Tom said, much to your disappointment.

“Okay. No, I get it.” You gave him a small smile and kissed his cheek, dropping the subject.

A few weeks later, you sent out a tweet that read, “Tom just hit a pothole so hard that he’s American now.”, leaving fans to wonder why you were together on your day off.

“They caught us. They know we’re on a date.” You said from the passenger seat.

“Friends can hang out on days off. That doesn’t mean we’re a couple.” Tom replied and you looked over at him.

“But we are a couple.” You reminded him, a little hurt at his phrasing.

“They don’t need to know that. I wouldn’t even respond to it. Don’t feed the flame.” Tom shrugged and shot you a smile. You faked a smile back and nodded.

“You’re right. I won’t respond.” You put your phone down and looked out the window, hoping he couldn’t sense your disappointment.

Then, it escalated to interviews.

“Does your friendship ever interfere with shooting the romantic scenes? Like, were you ever shooting a cuddling scene or a date scene where you were grossed out because you had to do romantic things with your friend?” The interviewer asked. You couldn’t help but laugh at the irony.

“Was it weird to do romantic things with my friend Tom? That’s a great question.” You said and Tom laughed from beside you, also seeing the irony. “It was pretty weird since we are such good friends.”

“The best of friends.” Tom egged on.

“Definitely.” You gave an over exaggerated nod. “He’s like family to me.”

“Like brother and sister.” Tom added and you burst out laughing. Tom laughed at your reaction and suddenly, you’re both hunched over laughing while the interviewer watched with a confused smile.

“I don’t think it was weird.” You said after you calmed down. “I have such a respect for Tom and I really admire his work as an actor, and I assume he feels the same for me-“

“More or less.” Tom joked.

“-so it wasn’t too bad.” You finished and elbowed him slightly.

“Was the first time you kissed awkward?” The interviewer asked.

“In the movie or-“ Tom began, forgetting the rest of the world didn’t know that you’d have a first kiss as Peter and MJ and a first kiss as a couple.

“No, it wasn’t awkward.” You quickly cut him off before he blew your cover. “At the end of the day, we’re both professionals and it’s just kissing. We do it all the time now.”

“Sometimes off screen. And that’s not a joke.” Tom brought up. “Especially during filming, I would sometimes forget we weren’t actually together and I’d walk into a room and kiss her.”

You smiled at the memory, remembering all the stolen kisses before you’d made it official.

“How did everyone else react?” The interviewer asked.

“They acted like it was completely normal.” You answered.

“Because for us, it was.” Tom shrugged.

“I will say, it did get complicated kissing you when were were shooting our reunion scene in Endgame because I had to be careful of your balls.” You said.

“What?” Tom nearly gasped. You realized how it sounded and slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Motion sensor balls. The little white motion sensor balls.” You quickly explained. “Oh my God. I meant the balls on the motion caption suit.”

“I was about to say.” Tom laughed at your accident innuendo.

“Ask the next question, please.” You pleaded to get out of the awkward moment.

“So did you guys meet through this movie?” The interviewer saved you.

“Yes. We met while filming Infinity War when no one had any idea our characters were going to date.” You answered confidently to redeem yourself.

“We were always paired together for junkets and she gradually became my best friend. Sorry Haz.” Tom apologized to the camera.

“It’s great that you guys were able to click. Your chemistry in the movie is really outstanding.” The interviewer complimented. “I’m sure that’s due to the friendship you’ve built off screen.”

“Yeah, I mean it always helps to be friends with your scene partner. And when we would have to spend hours in a prop bed together, cuddling and kissing while they got the perfect shot, it made us even closer. And as for the chemistry, I guess it kinda happened naturally.” You smiled shyly.

“Here’s a clip from the upcoming film.” The interview said to the camera. A scene from Far From Home played where Peter and MJ awkwardly yet adorably flirting with each other on the London Bridge. You couldn’t help but lovingly watch Tom as the clip played, overly proud of his job in the film.

“We do have great chemistry.” Tom nodded after the clip played. “We should date.” He added and you laughed.

“The fans would love that. I’m sure you’ve seen the campaigns online for you two to get together.” The interviewer remarked.

“We’ve seen it. Or at least, I have. Have you?” You asked Tom.

“I started the campaign.” Tom deadpanned.

“Oh, okay.” You nodded causally. You both kept a straight face for as long as you could before you burst into laughter. You curled into Toms side and laughed until your sides hurt.

“So is this really just a friendship? Nothing more?” The interviewer asked skeptically.

“No. We’re just really good friends.” Tom said firmly. You smile slowly faded and you gave a curt nod. For the rest of the interview, you were in autopilot. Every time you thought Tom was ready to tell the world, he hit you with the “just friends” line. It wasn’t him calling you “friend” that hurt you. It was him saying “just”. Every time he said it, he chipped into your heart. It hurt you to hear him play your relationship off as “just” anything.

At the next interview with Jimmy Kimmel, you had a bigger slip than usual.

“I love the pants Tom.” Jimmy complimented a few minutes into the interview. “But I do miss you in the Spiderman suit.”

“Oh, thank you.” Tom smiled and smoothed out his grey patterned pants. “My girlfriend picked them out.” He said causally. His eyes widened and you did your best to keep a neutral expression.

“Girlfriend?” Jimmy asked with a cheeky smile.

“Oh, Uh, yeah. I’ve been seeing someone for a while now. I wasn’t supposed to let that slip so no one tell her.” Tom grimaced before looking into the camera. “Sorry, baby. She is really good at fashion though. She picked out most of my outfits for the press tour.”

“Well I have to say, your girlfriend has great taste.” Jimmy said.

“Thank you.” You answered, then cleared your throat to cover up the slip up. Tom caught your mistake and stifled a laugh.

“What was that, Y/n?” Tom asked coyly, knowing full well what you had accidentally said.

“I said she’s gonna kill you.” You lied through a smile.

“You’ve met her?” Jimmy asked you and you thought quickly on your feet.

“Oh yes. I know her very well.” You nodded. It wasn’t a total lie. You knew yourself pretty well.

“So you guys are friends?” Jimmy continued.

“No. I cannot stand that girl.” You laughed and Tom rolled his eyes. If he wasn’t gonna admit that his girlfriend was you, you were gonna have some fun.

“Here we go.” Tom sighed and the audience laughed.

“Why not?” Jimmy inquired.

“Because all she does is talk about herself.” You said. Tom laughed the irony and you giggled yourself.

“Well what about you? Do you have a boyfriend?” Jimmy asked.

“I do have a boyfriend but he’s the worst.” You confirmed. Tom gave you a half cracked smile.

“What?” He asked, practically daring you to go on.

“Why do you say that?” Jimmy laughed.

“He can’t keep a secret to save his life.” You shrugged. “Except the one. He’s really good at keeping one.”

Tom knew exactly what you were doing and he couldn’t even blame you. He didn’t say anything, but patted your knee and left his hand there.

“So he’s like Tom then?” Jimmy said. “Tom, you’ve become infamous in Hollywood as being loose lipped.”

“He is not loose lipped, his lips are very nice.” You defended and Tom smiled shyly. “He just gets too excited and lets things slip.”

“Like you during that one scene.” Tom spoke up. You knew what he was talking about and your face reddened.

“Stop.” You warned.

“What did she let slip?” Jimmy wondered.

“Oh My God. This story is so embarrassing.” You whined as you covered your face in your hands. Tom laughed at your discomfort and took your hand.

“We were shooting the “steamy”, as one night call it, scene in the film and she was supposed to say “Peter”, you know my characters name, in like a breathy voice.” Tom explained.

“I’d like to preface that this was an accident.” You cut in.

“So we’re shooting the scene and right in my ear she goes “Tom…I mean Peter”. But the whole thing comes out in like a moan and I thought it was the funniest thing ever.” Tom told the story.

“It was so embarrassing! The whole crew heard.” You groaned while Tom and the audience laughed at your expense.

You and Tom walked into your shared hotel room after the interview and allowed yourselves to relax. While you were setting your purse down on the bed, Tom came behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You leaned into his embrace and smiled.

“That went a lot better than I thought. If people think we’re dating other people, they’ll stop asking us if we’re together. This will totally throw them off.” Tom said and he kissed your temple. Your smile dropped as you turned around in his arms.

“Or, we could use this as an opportunity to tell them the truth about us. They know you have a girlfriend. Why not tell them that girlfriend is me?” You asked.

“Because my fans will come at you with a fiery vengeance. It’s better if they think you’re just my best friend. Trust me, darling, you don’t want them to know it’s you.” Tom tilted your chin up to look at him.

“And trust me, Tom, I do.” You said, and left his embrace.

The next day, you pretended like nothing happened for the sake of all the junkets you had to get through. You could tell Tom was sorry from the guilty looks he kept giving you, but you wouldn’t look back at him.

“What’s the best part of the press tour?” The interviewer asked.

“Getting to spend all day with my best friend.” You laud the word on thick as you wrapped your arms around Toms neck and covered his cheek in kisses. He got your point and let you do it as his way of apologizing. The interviewer laughed along, knowing the effect your actions would have on the fans.

“It’s great that you two are best friends. Is this press tour similar to the Homecoming one where you had to spend all day with Robert?” Tom was asked.

“That was a lot different. Robert has more of a godfather role in my life. I can go to him for advice, but I can’t play table tennis with him at three am in the hotel lobby like I can with Y/n.” Tom answered. You were warmed back up to him and gave him a gentle smile.

“And what’s your relationship with him like?” The interviewer asked you.

“He’s like my dad. He used to carry bandaids around just because I got hurt so much on set.” You replied.

“I remember that. He was always prepared. I went to Robert once when I was sick and he hooked me up to this crazy machine. I was super scared but it’s Robert Downey Jr., so I wasn’t gonna say no.” Tom chimed in.

“He makes Marvel lower your paycheck every time you say no to him.” You joked.

“Exactly. So I let him hook me up to it and it totally cured me. I was better in 15 minutes.” Tom continued.

“Aw. That’s so funny to think of Robert playing doctor on set. I guess your relationship with him is similar to Tony’s relationship with Peter?” The interview asked Tom.

“Definitely, definitely. Minus the fighting crime together and dying in his arms, obviously.” Tom replied.

“Mr. Junior, I don’t feel so good.” You cut in with a laugh. Tom and the interviewer stopped and looked at you.

“What?” Tom asked with a growing smile.

“I said Mr. Junior, I don’t feel so good. Like Mr. Stark I don’t feel so good.” You explained. You looked at Tom in confusion as he and the interviewer shared a look.

“What?” Tom repeated.

“Because you said your relationship was similar so I said-“ You began.

“No, I heard what you said.” Tom cut you off. “Who’s Mr. Junior?”

“Robert.” You replied, still confused why everyone was making a big deal.

“It’s Mr. Downey.” Tom said and began to laugh.

“Why would it be Mr. Downey? You wouldn’t be Mr. Stanley. It’s the last name. Mr. Junior.” You said again, feeling yourself growing frustrated.

“Yes, and his last name is Downey. My middle name is Stanley.” Tom explained.

You sat in silence for a moment, contemplating what Tom was saying.

“Did you think his last name was Junior?” Tom broke the silence.

“No?” You said as more of a question than a statement.

“Have you seriously thought Roberts last name was Junior this entire time?” The interviewer asked, also laughing at you.

“I thought Downey was his middle name!” You shrieked.

“What?!” Tom asked and burst into laughter. You felt your face redden as the crew laughed at you as well.

“I thought he was Robert Downey Junior!” You said each name separately. “I thought he just used his full name like Neil Patrick Harris.”

“No.” Tom said in exasperation. “His fathers also named Robert so he’s Robert Downey Jr.”

“But he goes by RDJ! That implies that the “J” is a part of his initials.” You exclaimed.

“I cannot believe we’re having this conversation right now.” Tom said as he wiped a happy tear from his eye.

“How did you think I feel?” You asked.

“I can’t handle this. You’re so ridiculous.” Tom choked out through his laughter. “I love you.” You restrained yourself from telling him you loved him back, knowing you couldn’t possibly make it sound platonic.

“Aw.” The interviewer gushed. “You two are such cute friends.”

“Yeah.” You gave a tight lipped smile. “Friends.”

As the press tour neared its end, your ability to keep the secret worsened.

Tom gave you a quick kiss on the lips before the cameras started rolling. The interviewer almost caught it, but you pulled away quickly before he could.

“What is that?” Tom asked as you bite into something orange sometime during the junket.

“A carrot.” You shrugged as your chewed.

“Where did you get carrots?” Tom laughed in confusion.

“The snack table outside.” You replied as you ate another one.

“There’s a snack table? Oh, that’s why you tasted like peppers.” He realized. Neither of you realized what he said but the interviewer raised an eyebrow.

“You know I can’t resist some peppy boys.” You told him. “That better be cut out.” You warned the camera.

“You say that every interview.” Tom pointed out.

“It feels warranted every interview.” You giggled. “You know I debated stealing some of the pineapple from the snack table to take home?”

“Of course you did. You and your smoothies.” Tom rolled his eyes.

“I love smoothies! Is that a crime?” You turned in your seat to ask him.

“Yes! You drink a smoothie every morning and then get hungry twenty minutes later. You guys, she does not eat enough.” Tom said to the camera.

“It’s better than you and your thirty jars of jelly in the refrigerator because someone can’t go a day without toast.” You shot back.

“Oh, do you guys live together?” The interviewer asked in surprise.

You and Tom blinked in surprise at accidentally revealing that fact.

“Uhh, yeah. We’re um…” You started.

“Roommates.” Tom said quickly. “I live in the UK but I work mainly in the States, so I live with Y/n when I’m here.”

“Roommates? How cute.” The interviewer smiled.

“Just adorable.” You mumbled.

You dropped your purse on the hotel bed that night and put you hands on your hips. Without even looking at you, Tom could sense you anger. He sheepishly looked up at you and gave you a weak grin.

“I’m sorry?” He offered.

“For what?” You demanded.

“I don’t know. You haven’t told me yet.” He said.

“Roommates? You told him we were roommates?” You asked, not bothering to mask the hurt in your voice.

“Well why else would we live together?” Tom defended his answer.

“I don’t know, maybe because we’ve been in a committed relationship for over a year.” You grumbled. Tom heard the frustration in your voice and and put a gentle hand on your arm.

“But they don’t know that, darling.” He said softly.

“But I want them too. You keep pushing back telling our fans. You said we’d tell them before the press tour.” You said, feelings tears rise to your eyes.

“Yes, but then I realized all the interviews would focus on our relationship and not the movie.” Tom reminded you. “We needed to promote the movie.”

“No one needs to promote Marvel movies! They’re Marvel movies!” You exclaimed.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset over this, sweetheart. We agreed not to tell our fans.” Tom tried to talk you down.

“We agreed not to tell our fans right away. It’s been a year Tom. Do you not want them to know?” You sighed.

“I like my privacy, love. I don’t want the world intruding on us. I love you too much to share.” Tom cupped your face in his hands but you looked away.

“You say you love me, but tell the world I’m nothing but a best friend.” You said sadly. “Or worse, a roommate.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, angel. I’m sorry.” Tom apologized. You dropped the subject and went to bed without another word. You were cold towards Tom all the next day until your interview that night, the last of the press tour.

The media frenzy of rumors came to an end during a game of Charades on Jimmy Fallon. You were on Jimmy’s team, leaving Tom and Benedict as your opponents. You shot flirty banter back and forth all game until finally, your team won.

“Haha.” You pointed a jeering finger at Tom as you got off the couch and approaching him. He had his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched you with pure joy. “Just like the War of 1812, the British lost-“ You couldn’t finish your burn because Tom had pulled you into a kiss.

“Sorry, darling. You looked so cute up there. I couldn’t resist.” He mumbled against your lips.

“Wait, are you two together?” Jimmy asked, interrupting the moment. He was looking back and forth between you and Tom and the camera. You realized that the moment occurred on live television and suddenly felt shyer than you ever had before.

Tom looked at you, allowing you to be the one to confirm it after wanting too for so long. You looked into the camera and smirked.

“Truth is…I am dating Tom Holland.” You said in true Tony Stark fashion. The audience irrupted into applause and you couldn’t stop your smile from breaking through. Tom looked at you fondly and pulled you into a hug.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You mumbled against his chest.

“Yes I did.” He whispered into your ear. “love my privacy, but I love you more.”

Tag List 🏷

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#tom holland x reader #tom holland x yn #tom holland x you #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #marvel #peter parker x reader #spiderman #peter parker imagine #fic rec

3K notes · View notes

angellissy · 4 years ago

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passenger seat

Based on this lovely request that I accidentally deleted because I am stoopid: i love your writing lots! i saw an instagram post and i’m gonna quote it rq, “boys are sooo tough until they’re in the passenger seat of your car and they’re squirming around and grabbing the edge of their seat and yelling, ‘jesus christ grace there’s a fucking truck please grace’” and i thought it would be hilarious with jj :) JJ Maybank x Reader A/N: Thanks to lilly for helping me figuring out what JJ would smell like, and thanks to cort for reading this and giving me honest feedback. I love you guys. @pogue-writings @adoreyoudrews A wide grin was playing on your lips and you were nodding your head along to the beats of the song that was blasting through the speakers of your parents’ old car. The car was a deep shade of red with a hint of rust on each side, it also made a screeching sound whenever you pressed down the brakes. You hummed to the soft tunes and smiled when you caught your reflection in the rear-view mirror. You wanted to bump your fist in the air, but you were too scared to even let go of the steering wheel for a split second. You settled with giving yourself a small victory shimmy with your shoulders. Three songs and several more victory dances later you finally pulled up to the familiar-looking house. Your head jerked forward as you stopped the car, you needed to work on your car stopping technique, that was for sure. Before you even had time to open your door, four familiar faces appeared in front of you. “You made it! Congratulations girl.” The brown-haired girl barely gave you time to remove your seat belt before pulling you in for a hug. A small giggle escaped your lips as you were lifted from Kie’s arms into the arms of a certain blonde boy. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the smell of saltwater. “That’s my girl, and from now on also my private chauffeur.” Your boyfriend put you down, your sandals hit the wet grass and some of the droplets sprayed on your bare feet. You lightly slapped his chest, furrowing your brows at the boy that had stolen your heart all those months ago. “I might, but it will cost you.” A playful smirk formed on his light pink lips “I’ll give you plenty of rewards, don’t worry” Your friends made a gagging sound as a hint of pink crept onto your cheeks, shaking your head att JJ, trying to remove all the thoughts that circled through your teenage mind.

“So you gonna give me a ride or what?`” Your head snapped up to look at JJ, your eyes were big as apples. “Wha- What?” You stammered. Along with your friends, he let out a loud laugh that echoed between the trees that surrounded the chateau. “I meant in your car, but if you would rather do somethi-” “Just get in the car.” You exclaimed, quickly jumping into it, trying to look at anything else than the grinning faces of your friends. Your boyfriend soon followed suit. You turned on the engine and was just about to back out of the driveway when your boyfriend lightly slapped your arm, making you stop. “Jeez woman, can you chill out? I am trying to fasten my seat belt.” You rolled your eyes at him but waited until he was correctly fastened before you took off. “Could you please turn up the volume? I love this song.” You said, eyes still focused on the road in front of you. “You sure you will be able to focus if the volume is higher?” He said, and you let out a small laugh. “I’m not some old man, I’ll manage JJ.” He hummed in response and turned it up, not even making a noticeable difference. You didn’t bother saying anything though, you felt too happy. You had just received your driver’s license, your boyfriend was sitting next to you and the warm summer wind was gently caressing your face. Life was good, you would have never thought that you would be doing all of this a year ago. But here you were, happier than ever. In the corner of your eye, you saw JJ grab the edge of the seat, his knuckles were turning white and he was looking forward with big eyes. “What’s up with you?” You ask before looking in the rear-view mirror and changing lanes. “What are you doing, there is a truck!?” He yells, his hands grabbing the edge of the seat even tighter. You were sure that they were gonna leave a mark. “I know, that is why I am changing lanes so I can drive past it.” You mutter, pressing down the gas pedal. “You are crazy.” He whispers under his breath, his eyes glued on the truck as if it would make it disappear. He lets out a breath when you drive past it, and his grip on the seat softens just the smallest bit. Not one of you says anything for a while, you are to annoyed with his behavior and he’s too focused on making sure you are driving correctly. A couple of minutes later you pull into the parking lot by the beach, adamant to watch the sunset with your boyfriend, even if he’s acting like a little boy. You unbuckle your seat belt and turn around so you finally can look properly at him. Rays of sunlight slip through the window, illuminating his features and making the annoyance wash out of you like a tidal wave. “You might be the most infuriating person ever to grace that passenger seat, but I love you so much.” You mutter to him while climbing over to sit down in his lap, you narrow your eyes at him though as you notice the thing still draped over his body. “JJ, why are you wearing a seat belt when we are parked?” He shrugs his shoulders, giving you what would appear as an innocent smile. “You never know.” A loud sigh escapes your lips at that and you bury your head in his shoulder. You intertwined one of your hands with him, his soft fingers draw small figures on the back of your hand. While the sun went down and disappeared between the shimmering sea, the love you held for the boy in front of you only grew. Your chest was pressed against his, and for a second you wondered if it was possible for your hearts to intertwine. They beat at the same rhythm, never missing each other. Your body was his and his body was yours. Two pieces of something that could be seen as a puzzle, your puzzle wasn’t finished though. There was much more to add, but the two of you would always be at the center. Your whole being was intertwined with his, and you would never have it any other way. He gently taps on your shoulder, drawing you out from the web of thoughts. “Look, there are dolphins.” Your head snapped around, just in time to catch the sight of the creatures jumping up and down in the water. Your lips parted ever so slightly as you watched them, they were magnificent. “Can we please go down and look closer?” You asked him, but you didn’t even wait for his answer before you were sprinting out of the car. You lost your sandals along the way, your bare feet were now standing in the sand which was still hot thanks to being in the sun’s warm embrace all day. You pulled up your phone from your back pocket and snapped some pictures, these would definitely go up on the empty spaces on your wall. “When the fuck did you get so fast.” JJ breathed when he got to where you were standing. “Well, it probably helped that I wasn’t wearing my seat belt.” He rolls his eyes at that, putting one arm around your body and drawing it closer to his. His gesture makes you lose your footing and in just a few seconds, your bodies are sprawled across the hot sand. You groan as you hit your head at his chest, making him let out a small “oof”. “You’re so clumsy.” He mutters, but you still see the way his eyes travel over you just to make sure you didn’t actually break something. “We are not having this conversation.” A small laugh escapes his lips, it makes you feel all sorts of things. The sound of the waves crashing onto the shore and the sound of your breathing, was the only thing that could be heard. Your breathing was becoming quicker than his though, all thanks to his hands dusting off the sand of your back. His fingers soon found themselves under the soft fabric of your shirt, regardless that no sand adorned your bare skin. He did not care, the only thing on his mind was the feeling of your skin under his hands, the way small goosebumps were created just by his touch drove him crazy.

“God, I love you.” He breathed, just before quickly moving his hands to your face, his rings were cold against your cheeks but the feeling of his lips against yours, made everything warmer.

#jj maybank imagines #jj x reader #jj imagines #obx jj #jj maybank #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader

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snarkwriteswrasslin · 4 years ago

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Can you do a daddy kink headcanon for Marko Stunt?

While I do see Marko as having a daddy kink... I don’t know that your idea of him having one and mine are gonna line up but...I will happily write out the way I see it working!! Also, thank you for sending me this! It was an actual blast to sit down and think out! Sorry in advance if what you get is not what you were expecting,btw. I hope you enjoy it though!.

Warnings:

This might get suggestive. Maybe borderline sexual in the tame kind of way. So if there’s any kids reading this, take a hike for now. Beyond that, teeth rotting sweet I guess? Oh and a trigger warning for my rambling, because it’s probably frustrating af, lmao.

Tagging:

My tag list is all out of whack rn. Sorry guys! I’m trying to fix it. If you recently changed urls, let me know, especially if you wanna be tagged, because that’s pretty much what the issue was, a lot of the names I had weren’t working anymore last time I tried to post. Anyway... If you wanna be tagged in my writing, pls go add yourself to the linked doc below or dm/send me an ask to do it. And also, if you’re already on it, but you either changed urls and/or haven’t been getting tagged, pls lemme know. It might be an issue on my end, idk.

Other Stuff:

[ about my writing | masterlist | tag list doc ]

You never meant to say it, let alone blab to a friend backstage that Marko Stunt was quote unquote “Daddy as fuck.” But you did. And you thought you were in a private enough area when it was said that he’d never have a clue you said it, because honestly, you were too afraid to actually... Have the audacity to tell him how you felt.

-- This was not the case. Not only did someone hear it, but that someone was Marko. After he leaned against the wall for a good ten minutes, letting the rush go straight to his head and trying to calm himself down, he started to really think on the magnitude of what he now knew to be true. And how to best use it to get you all to himself because he’d been into you for months. By the time he was in catering, grinning like an idiot, he’d started thinking of lyrics to a song just for you and he’d come up with the perfect plan to make you crack.. To at least get you two interacting more, in any case. See, Marko isn’t exactly the bold kind of guy. He has to know what he wants is a sure thing before that boldness surfaces. And now that he did, well...

It started subtly.. Innocently, even. Subtle brushes against you in hallways and on elevators. Wandering up to you and drawing you into conversations just to make you laugh -and flirt with you, which you were... kind of oblivious too because you’re just that oblivious and he can be that smooth/awkward, depending on how you choose to see it sometimes. Accidentally crashing into your back and pressing himself against you just slightly, chuckling and then daring to whisper against the shell of your ear either an apology, or that you two had to stop meeting like this. Every single encounter left you a dripping confused mess.

-- That daddy sweater he’s got? It started to make so many more appearances. Especially if he were going somewhere and he knew you’d be there. At first, you thought nothing of it. But then a friend pointed out that he’d stopped wearing it until recently. And yeah, the paranoid parts of you did panic just a bit that maybe he’d have heard you the day you spilled your deepest desire to your best friend while hanging out in back. But you quickly managed to reassure yourself that he couldn’t have heard you, because he wasn’t even around at the time....

-- Then he started seeking you out whenever he knew Sammy was filming vlogs. Flirting -and doing some heavy teasing, on camera. Always so touchy. Always quick to get real heated whenever someone tried to push up on you or even take the conversation over a little bit when he was already there and talking to you. And on one particular occasion, he came off exactly like a protective boyfriend when this guy in the hotel lobby wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone and it scared you. Just the way he pulled your back to his chest and put his arms around you... Whispering and laughing against your ear when he muttered with a calm smirk at the other guy, “There you are, baby girl. Thought I lost you. You ready to check into our room?”

-- That was a loooooong night. Filled with many varying racy scenarios flitting about in your mind. Knowing he had the bed across the room did NOTHING to help. If anything, it made things so much worse. So much more intense. Sharing a room with him was both your dream scenario and in this case, sheer torture... Because all the little touching and the flirting and the innuendo? It was amplified by at least ten on this weekend.

The final straw came when he accidentally burst into the bathroom just as you were stripping down for a long hot soak in the huge tub. Both of you froze. You attempted to at least halfway cover yourself, but he crossed the room in a split second, towering over you... It hit you then, every single time you two had an encounter, Marko honestly seemed to be making himself tower over you.

-- His hand raised slowly, lowering your hands from the way they covered your body as best as you could manage. When you locked eyes, there was this almost wild gleam there. You happened to glance down and notice that he was wearing the damn sweater again and that... really did not help the intensity of the situation. You were kind of melting into him, eyes fixed on that shirt, cheeks on fire. “Daddy, huh?” you managed to get the words out.. He chuckled. His hands dropped and long,thin fingers curled beneath your chin to make you look up. “Depends on who you ask, angel.. Am I?” his tongue slipped slowly over his lips and you whimpered, shivering at the gentle way he was touching you and how it was a nice juxtaposition to the firmness in his tone when he asked the question he’d just asked quietly. He repeated himself.. A little firmer. That gleam in his eye was brighter, a lot brighter. He was standing closer now, your back was against the edge of the vanity sink in the bathroom. “Am I?”

-- You couldn’t take anymore. Weeks of teasing and hinting, of his innuendo, they were all leading up to this. When you tried to open your mouth, nothing came out... I mean, aside from the quiet whimper that only grew when his hand lowered, gripping your back and rocking your body right into his. He got this little smirk as he kept inching his mouth closer to yours. “Well? I asked a question, sweetheart... I’m kind of waiting on an answer.”

-- Finally, your daze cleared and you got yourself together enough that you just totally snapped, arms wrapping around his neck, legs wrapping around his waist as you used the grip you had on the back of his neck to pull your mouth into his completely. His tongue swept out, right between your lips. You managed to finally mumble the answer, “If you want to be, yeah. You’re totally daddy. My daddy.”

-- Whew, fuck... the low and throaty growl that came, spilling between your mouths when you said it. He rocked into you harder, rubbing you against him as he did so. “Say it again.” he demanded, a breathy pant against your neck as he sat you on the edge of the vanity....

#marko stunt #marko stunt fanfiction #marko stunt imagine #marko stunt fanfic #marko stunt imagines #marko stunt headcanons - racy/suggestive #possibly ns(fw)#my writing; marko stunt #my fics; marko stunt #my headcanons; marko stunt #// no one under 18+#//tw: daddy kink #//tw: possibility of s*xual content

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tired-college-student-writing · 5 years ago

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#WayneAngel: Chapter 2

The Maribat AU by @ozmav and @maribat-archive is all I can think about atm, so enjoy more of this

Summary- After Grayson posts a video on the wrong twitter, Damian feels like he should lose his social media privileges, and possibly his hand.

Part 1

Part 2 (HERE)

Part 3

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Wayne’s Angel @FashionableInGotham

Thanks for outing my relationship, Dick, now I owe Tim money.

Marinette paused realizing that no one was going to believe the lone tweet, even as she hit send on the first post of her new twitter account. There were probably a hundred fake accounts popping up already in light of the news. Thousands of theories on her were already flying around the net.

She probably had a zillion texts from her classmates about the video, but she had taken one look at the group chat and missed calls she had gotten from Alya and turned her phone onto do not disturb. She’d check for texts from her actual friends later.

She sighed and stuck her head outside, and was only mildly surprised seeing the two middle Wayne boys stilling sitting on the patio.

“You guys are still out here?” She asked, only for Jason to flip her off and Tim just bleary lifted his head up, having been taking a nap in the sun like a cat.

“Easy boy,” She soothed Jason, “I’ve just come to tell you the kitchen is no longer off-limits, and that Damian is attempting to murder Dick.”

“What did Dickie do?”

Instead of answering Jason’s question she held up a blue bill between two fingers, “Oh I also owe Tim this,”

She watched Tim pause mid-yawn and eyes flash to her before his eyes grow large and he cracked up laughing.

Jason slipped into a cheeky smirk, “No…”

“Oh yes,” Marinette sighed, “Dick accidentally uploaded the video he took earlier to his public twitter, instead of his private one. #WayneAngel and #MariDami are both trending right now.”

“The demon spawn might actually succeed in killing him this time,” Tim gasped out, snatching the bill from her.

“Not on Alfred’s birthday, he won’t,” She giggled back before holding up her phone, “Either way, mind helping me enter the celebrity Twitter scene? I feel there’s going to be lots of clean up involved, but I figured the sooner I’m officially introduced the better, but I need someone to confirm I’m me on there.”

Tim pulled out his phone, “One introduction tweet coming right up.”

Tim Drake Offical @TJDrake

Thanks, @AFlyingGrayson for fucking up and winning me the bet with on who would out The Demon spawn’s relationship!

Anyways, Just wanted to introduce @FashionableInGotham as my actual favorite sibling and the Demon spawn’s real, flesh and blood, girlfriend, Marinette.

With the tweet was a picture that Tim had snapped of the three of them chilling on the porch, Marinette perched on the armrest of Tim’s chair as the boy waved the banknote in front of the lens, Jason smirking as he gave the young girl bunny ears.

It’s a very endearing picture, in her opinion and was ranking in retweets in a heartbeat. Her follower count was climbing from the seven Waynes. Marinette wasn’t going to ask how Tim managed to hack twitter to make the missing Waynes follow her, she really didn’t want to know.

Plausible Deniability and all that.

The tweet was followed quickly by one from Jason.

Jason Todd Lives @BestTodd

Yes the brat has a girlfriend

Yes I lost the bet on if he’d follow in Bruce’s footsteps

Yes that’s my real reaction to her picking me up

Yes she’s is that adorable irl, Proof vvv

Yes @FashionableInGotham is my unofficial baby sister and I will fuck up anyone that upsets her

The picture he attached as proof of her being adorable was of her working on a piece, her tongue sticking out between her teeth as she concentrated. The reds and purple laying in pieces around her as she snipped and sewed them together. Behind her, you could barely make out Tim and Damian arguing on her chaise.

There was a sudden bang as the patio door was hung open and Dick tumbled through, phone in hand, with Damian still following him, but the knife had been replaced with his sword.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were introducing Marinette on twitter!” The eldest whined as he continued to dodge Damian’s strikes. Damian stilled, turning to his other brothers.

“You what!”

Marinette rolled her eyes, “Easy Damian. It was my idea. Get a good image out there before people have too much time to theorize about how I wormed my way into the elusive Waynes.”

Tim just snorted, “Ah yes, Marinette the masterful gold digger who had no idea she was dating the Damian Wayne for the first two months of their relationship.”

The other boys laughed as Marinette’s face turned bright red.

“You promised not to bring that up again,” SHe whined as her boyfriend came up behind her and wrapped an arm around her.

“You know you love us, Angel,” He mumbled as he pressed a kiss into her hair, pointily ignoring the fake gagging from Jason and Tim.

“Sooooo” Dick drawled, bringing everyone attention to him, “We have about an hour we need to start dinner, and two before he and B get back. Who’s up for a little twitter QnA?”

_______________________________________________________________________

The group chat was too hectic to keep up with anymore, no one was sure what was happening, until Chloe texted each of them individually and offered up a conference room at her family’s hotel for them to gather and go over what was happening.

She was a little surprised that they all agreed, especially Lila. The gig was up, there wasn’t a way for her to convincingly spin this turn of events, not when the Wayne’s were already rushing to social media to defend the girl after the video accidentally went up, introducing her under a brand new twitter.

If anyone saw that the blonde was already following said twitter, she’d claim it was to keep up with any drama that unfolded from little miss no one dating a Wayne.

After all, she had an image to keep up, she couldn’t just...

“Chloe?”

Her head snapped up to see Adrian standing in the doorway.

“How on earth did you get here so fast?” She asked with a raised brow.

He glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck, “I... might of snuck out...”

She laughed, “Knew school would be good for you.”

He grinned sliding into the seat next to her, making her relax.

Their relationship had been rocky for a while, but after Queen Bee made her official debut, they were working through it. She couldn’t deny the fact that his eyes glowed as she tried her best to be a better person made everything easier

“So have you abandoned your ridiculous high road principle?” She questioned, watching him flinch slightly.

“You know I didn’t...”

“Yeah, Yeah,” She sighed waving her hand, knowing it was still a sore spot to him that Marinette had taken the advice so poorly before Chloe stepped up and explained what he had meant.

Keep your head down, don’t draw attention to yourself. Messages that had been instilled into Adrian for years, both to keep out of the media spotlight and, after his mother disappeared, to stay at of his father's way. Lies had never been an issue to him since rumors were always flying around the model and the people he worked with, so while it took him a while to see that the lies that Lila told were different than those written in the gossip columns and were actually doing harm.

Let’s just say the boy was still beating himself up for that, even if Marinette forgave him. Sadly it was too late to have Adrian come forward on his own to out Lila without it looking like Marinette had just gotten him under her thumb so they had been waiting for their chance.

Chloe was glad to say that that day had finally come.

“Did you know Damian was the boy Mari talked about?” He asked quietly.

“No,” She sighed, “Luka and Kagami had no idea either, you’d know this if you bothered looking at your phone.”

He shrugged, leaning over her shoulder, “I left it at home, Dad tracked me last time I snuck out with it.”

She huffed a laugh handing over the phone so he could see the... colorful texts from the pair.

“I didn’t know Kagami knew any swears in French,” He confessed after scrolling through the group chat.

“My money’s on her learning them from Ms. Couffaine,” Chloe offered lazily, “That woman swears like a sailor.”

“She lives on a boat,” Adrian counters, “I think that qualifies her as a sailor.”

“Whatever,”

They lapsed into silence as Adrian clicked over to the entire group chat to see if he could make any sense out of it now that the flow of incoming texts has trickled off.

“Are you okay?” She suddenly asks making him arch a brow, gazing up from the phone.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Your lady is in love with someone else.”

Adrian smiled softly.

“I accepted that awhile ago Chlo,” He reminded her, back to the day they were all too close when time ran out, when the five of them could no longer hide, “I’m very happy to be her best friend, plus I’ve been thinking that I might look what the cat can drag-in”

She groaned, whacking him, “You’re ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.”

“Like you weren’t wondering if you’d be a good snake charmer.”

She squeaked, swatting him again harder as he fell off his chair with laughter.

“I told you that in confidence, not so you can make stupid puns!”

“Oh come on Chloe, don’t throw a hissssy hit,”

“I’m a bee, so buzz off!”

They stared at each other before breaking down into giggles.

“I hate you,” She whines through the pearls of laughter.

“No you don’t,” He waggled his eyebrow making her laugh harder.

Knowing he won he glanced back at her phone only for his smile to twist into a wicked grin.

“Tone down the Chat in that grin or people will put it together,” She warned, poking his cheek.

“Marinette and the Wayne boys just said they’re doing a QnA under #Daminette.”

Chloe blinked a few times before her smile twisted to match his, “There’s a projector in here and we have about five minutes until anyone else gets here.”

“I’ll grab your laptop and make sure Plagg and Pollen come down from your room,” Adrian said, climbing to his feet.

“I’ll call Luka and Kagami and ask them to be prepared, and then get Jean to get refreshments and inform Jagged Stone of what’s happening,” She assigned to herself before he nodded and took off.

Operation Dethrone Lila was officially underway.

About fucking time

_______________________________________________________________________

Taglist: @kceedraws @northernbluetongue @starry-bi-sky @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @lexysama @vincentvangoose

#miraculous ladybug #batman #maridami #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #Tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #Damianette #chloe bourgeois #adrian agreste #lila rossi #lila gets exposed

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masked-buffoon · 4 years ago

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Chapter 6: A colourless world (Part 3)

Warnings: minors drinking, alcohol

Author notes: this really comes out so late, I am so sorry... Tumblr is being horrible to me and I can't make posts on my computer anymore, that's why there won't be a "keep reading" limit... I'll fix it up, I promise...! I hope you enjoy that heartbreaking chapter still!

I enjoyed the crystalline tinting of the ice in my glass when the bartender set it onto the counter in front of me. This was whiskey on the rocks. With a finger, I traced the edge of the glass, admiring its features and the way light reflected onto the warm coloured alcohol. There was no doubt its taste would warm me up as well.

"Have we not come a bit too early...?" I questioned Dazai, who was also lost in his thoughts next to me.

"What?" He chuckled "Do you not like my company?"

"I-I didn't say that...!" I hurriedly protested.

If anything, I was happy to be with him only; a shameful thought I dared not tell him about.

"Then why do you ask? You're annoying, Ogawa...~"

"I'm sorry, Dazai..." I lowered my head "I did not mean to... Be a bother..."

"Stop that...! Always apologising..."

"... Is it a bother...?"

The ice cube started melting and hit the glass, creating another tinting sound.

"A bother... Is not the word. What I mean is, I don't need you to always be sorry... I prefer when you're confident, when you answer me frankly..." He smiled at his glass "When your eyes are not clouded by fear because of me... We've talked about it, haven't we?"

"Dazai..."

"Anyway..." He gulped down his whiskey, emptying his glass in one go "Another one, bartender...~!"

It was hard to know when he was serious or not, but at the moment, I wanted to believe he truly meant the words he had told me. I wanted to believe he did care about me, even the slightest. I did not want to doubt him, but sometimes, it was hard to do otherwise, regarding how he sought death. How could he befriend me if he was meant to leave me behind...? I did not want to think about it. He was everything I had in this life, everything I wanted to protect in this world; although my feelings were not shared, knowing he could be concerned was enough to soothe my heart.

"... Thank you..." I smiled, sincerely, looking away from him.

"I have done nothing that deserves you being grateful. But —"

The door opened before he could finish his sentence, and Dazai's eyes darted toward the intruder, who was none other than his friend, Oda-san. His face lit up, as always when this man entered his field of view, and he waved at him like a kid.

"Yo, Odasaku...!" He grinned, cheerful.

"Good evening, Dazai. Ogawa." He nodded at me.

"Good evening, Oda-san." I answered, more calmly than my superior "Have you had a good day?"

"More respectful words..." He seemed annoyed as he sat down "You may be the only one addressing me this way, Ogawa..."

"That's because you are older than me..." I stated "That's all..."

"Then stop it...!" He smiled at me "I already know you don't even add '-san' to Dazai's name when in private."

"How would you —" I cut myself, noting how my superior grinned at his drink "Eh... Fine then, but it'll take some time..."

"That's good." He hummed "So, what is the reason for those new bandages, Dazai?"

"That...! It's a funny story...!" He answered, chuckling "We were in the middle of an ambush, you see, but all of a sudden, I fell in a gutter...! And you know the best? This morning, I was reading a book about preventing accidental injuries...!"

I had to do my best not to let my eyes widen and my jaw fall open. What on Earth was he saying...? He did not own any book about accidental injuries — rather, a book about suicide methods — and those new wounds and bruises had only been created by me pushing him to the ground... Or could it be he had been shot and I had not noticed...? Either way, why was he lying to put on the facade of a funny man...?

"I see..." Oda — as he wanted me to call him — simply answered "Funny story indeed."

"What about you, Odasaku~? Had a nice day?"

"Well... I defused a bomb and took care of thugs in the back alley. Nothing int —"

Dazai's eyes lit up greatly, like a child discovering his gifts on a Christmas morning. However... I could perceive there was no sincerity whatsoever. He was acting. I believed his friend knew so as well, but played along not to tense up the mood. It was better this way...

"I want to defuse a bomb too...! I'd do it so poorly that I would just explode with it...~!"

"I thought you didn't like pain..." I whispered, more to myself than to him.

"Odasaku-san, you always give him weird ideas..." Someone entered the bar, interrupting the seemingly joyful conversation.

"Hey there, Ango...! You look well...!"

"Well...?" His face scrunched up "I had a trip to Tokyo for some business... Finally, it turned out it wasn't interesting... Such a waste... Oh, hello Ogawa-kun."

"Hello, Sakaguchi-san." I answered the intelligence agent of the Port Mafia.

"Well, it can't be helped~" Dazai dramatically waved his hand "At least, you get to have a drink with us."

"At least..." He let himself fall onto a stool, next to my superior.

I had been careful enough to sit further from him, so his friends could take place by both his sides. I was not delusional; I could easily tell it was better this way. I sipped the last drops of my whiskey then placed the glass back on the counter, without making much noise. The three men were conversing together, exchanging happily about diverse things which were not even related to the Port Mafia. I had not been there often, but I believed it was the first time I felt so... Out, in a way. It had been months we had strived to get closer to a friendly relationship, yet, I felt slightly jealous, seeing how Oda and Sakaguchi-san could behave around Dazai, whereas I still had troubles knowing what was wrong or right to say or to do. How could I just be natural with him...?

" — Can you, Ogawa?"

I looked up, bewildered. I had not paid attention to what they were saying, lost in my own thoughts, and I was oblivious about what they could want me to do. I cleared my throat in discomfort, nodding slightly.

"Of course, Dazai..." My voice trailed off, showing my nervousness.

"Then~"

He put a camera into my hands. This was not his. This was not Oda's either. The only person who could have needed it was Sakaguchi-san. But what — oh, I understood. They wanted me to take a picture of the three of them.

"A trace of us... Such ominous words again..." I heard Oda's thoughts by accident.

It was always awkward to have me in a room full of secrets, for I could, even if not on purpose, get a glimpse of any hidden truth, and people had no guarantee I would remain quiet. However, this annoying ability which threatened to take my life could sometimes prove itself to be helpful, as it was now. What could he have meant...?

"Ogawa...?"

"I-I'm sorry, I was lost in thoughts..." I stuttered, taking a look at the camera "How do I turn this on..."

"Were you...?" He cracked a smile, surprising me "Don't do so too often... You look as though you're going to be gone forever..."

"Of course, I'll always come back for you..." I assured.

Months ago, during the Boss' birthday party, I had been introduced to the strange boy named Q, who had quite a troublesome ability. Despite remaining rather sane thanks to The Sweet Appeals, I had experienced a terrifying nightmare and had not been able to wake up from it, lost in the tormented illusion created by Q-kun. Unconsciously, my ability had activated itself and I had almost died, again, if not for the nurse. However, despite Dazai's protests and outrageous report, I had never received a single apology from Mori-san for putting me through such danger. I had loathed him ever since.

I handed the camera to Sakaguchi-san after taking a quick look at it.

"My apologies... I have never used one before..."

"I'll explain to you." He chuckled.

"I did pick you in the slums, but I can't believe you've never seen a camera, Ogawa." Dazai grinned, a tad mockingly.

"I have never seen the outside before getting thrown out of the mansion..." I confessed, embarrassed "I spent most of my time reading..."

"Is that so...?" He stared at me oddly "I understand better why you were so determined to shoot them yourself... Did you not use a camera to gather information about the place you would rob, with the thieves?"

"They did, but I was never part of the information gathering." I explained "But don't remind me... You practically killed me when we robbed the jewellery..."

"You looked like a poor lost bunny." He laughed, taking the last sip of his drink "It was amusing, seeing you run as fast as possible from me~"

"That's creepy, Dazai..." Sakaguchi-san made a comment "Will you be alright, Ogawa-kun?"

"Yes, thanks to your explanations." I smiled "Whatever, I'm glad you gave up on chasing me..."

"I don't think Dazai would have killed you, back then." Oda-san suddenly stated, casually sipping the alcohol from his glass.

"How would you know~?" My superior waddled on his stool.

"I know."

"So many secrets~ Will you ever tell me~?"

"I wonder. Perhaps in the future." He remained quiet about this matter.

"Anyway...!" I interrupted their talk "What about those pictures...?"

"Ah right...! Can you take the three of us~?" Dazai grinned "It'll be a souvenir of this evening~"

"Yes, Dazai." I smiled, walking further from the counter "Now..."

I pressed the button as they raised their glasses to "the stray dog".

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd oc #bsd fanfic #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs oc #bsd imagines #dazai osamu

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sgtbbvrnes · 7 years ago

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ok hey i'm. that bucky x male reader insert you wrote, i think it was called the thing is?? holy cow. i can never find male reader inserts and when i do they make me so dysphoric bc the way they're written but. it was perfect. thank you ,, is it weird to thank you for writing it oh well. ok Thanks for reading my ramble but like. seriously, that insert was amazing

i’m glad you liked it :’) i’ve got another one on my old blog wherein it’s a trans!male reader if you wanna read it (this one) and i know most fics are female centric and stuff even when they’re in second person but i still try to make my second person ones as gender neutral as possible so i hope you feel a lil less dysphoric reading my stuff :^)

#also if you want me to delete this ask bc you don't want it published or smth then just hmu #i meant to hit answer privately but i accidentally pressed post :---------))))))))))))))#asks #therlysad

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blondeblackwidow · 5 years ago

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king of my heart

(steve rogers x stark!ofc) post avengers, pre ca:tws

“No- You’re messing with me aren’t you?” Her laugh was a song he could get very used to hearing. “Were you gonna ask me something Rogers?” “Would you like to get coffee or drinks the next time you’re in town?” - or, that time steve and mason fell in love.

I'm perfectly fine, I live on my own

I made up on my mind, I'm better off being' alone

“Cmmmonnn” Tony pleaded with his daughter on the other end of the phone. “You deserve one weekend of not playing SI’s official fire extinguisher.”

“The fire extinguisher you appointed.” She sighed, brewing her coffee. “Dad I have a lot of work to do. The board meets tomorrow, and they already don’t take me seriously, skipping the meeting about the sale of your labs will not help that.”

“Screw the board Mace, you’re a blood Stark, they can bitch all they want. It’s not their name on the side of the building.” Tony stated. “They’re big boys who get paid way too much to need assistance changing the name on a deed.”

“You promise I’ll be back by Monday?”

“Of course, you can go back to ruling the energy world in my name on Monday.”

“In our name.” She soaked her response in sass. “I’ll be there at sunset, I have a meeting I can’t miss.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Tony smiled, she was nothing like him when it came to business and responsibility and he was so grateful.

“See you then, bye Dad.”

“See you then Mace.”

“Sir, Ms Stark has landed on the helipad, she’s headed down to the main floor.” JARVIS called over the compound. Tony stood from the barstool and headed through the living room where everyone crowded around. Steve perked up when he heard the AI transmission as Tony swiftly left the room. Steve knew Tony had a daughter, and he had met her once, but she was working undercover and he was fresh out of the ice, not a great start.

He had read the daily news JARVIS compiled for him each morning and somehow every editorial had something to say about Mason Elizabeth Stark. What she wore the evening prior, who opened her doors, who styled her hair, anything you could name. She was the American version of royalty.

But the girl who walked into that compound was not the girl typing words into a SHIELD tablet, muttering words he didn’t understand. She was wearing a figure hugging dress and heels that made her almost taller than her old man. Mason Stark wasn’t a SHIELD liaison who let the room swallow her anymore, as a matter of a fact, she owned the room she just stepped into, and he was intrigued. She cleared her throat behind him.

“Captain.” She smirked as he turned around.

“Ma’am” He said, stuttering slightly, he searched her eyes, was she this beautiful a few years ago? Was he making this awkward?

“You’re standing in front of the beer.” She smiled, pointing at the ice bucket behind him.

“Oh, right.” He scratched the back of his head, moving out of the way. “My apologies.” He reached his hand out for a shake. “Steve Rogers.” She placed her hand delicately in his, was she really royalty or did he just read that in a magazine?

“Mason Stark.” She removed her hand and grabbed a bottle from the bucket. “Nice to meet you, Steve.” She turned away and headed toward the common room.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since that weekend at the compound, they had barely made conversion, and Tony had watched them like a hawk the whole time. He danced his fingers over the numbers she wrote on the back of a business card. “ The number on the front is my work phone, don't call it unless you want to hear me grumpy.” She had giggled. God, he had to call her, had to do something, was he always this indecisive?

He finally called her. She had picked up, not sure what to expect but what she got was much better. “Stark.” She said, acting like she didn’t already know who was on the other line.

“Hell-” Steve cleared his throat. “Hey, it’s Steve, uh, Steve Rogers.” Was he nervous?

“Oh Steve Rogers? I thought it was Steve Williams from Accounting?” She giggled, he was too easy.

“No- You’re messing with me aren’t you?” Her laugh was a song he could get very used to hearing.

“Were you gonna ask me something Rogers?”

“Would you like to get coffee or drinks the next time you’re in town?”

“I would love to get drinks with you.” He chuckled on the other end, her father’s daughter . “I’m in DC next week to get zoning approval for our next three reactors.”

“Perfect, I’ll see you then.”

“See you then.” She smiled and hung up the phone, sinking back into her office chair, letting daydreams drift in.

---

She kicked off her heels at the door, and stumbled on to the couch. “How did Captain America of all people let me have that much to drink.” Her head was spinning, he drove her back to her place, and she insisted he came inside.

“Who am I to ever say no to a lady? And I thought a Stark could handle her liquor better.” He joked, she tried to stand to oppose him and tripped on the rug. “Whoa whoa whoa.” He exclaimed as he caught her.

“What a gentlemen.” She snickered. “I need to turn off the AI sys…” She stopped, her cheeks were hot and her heart pounded, her ankle accidentally-on-purpose rolled out from under her, and he pulled her closer.

“You alright?” Steve asked.

“Never better.” Mason pushed up on her toes and leaned in closer. Steve closed his eyes and tilted his head. Their lips began to touch-

“Miss, there’s a pending call from Mr Stark.”

“And that’s why I turn her off at night.” Mason grumbled and left Steve’s inviting arms, stepping into her kitchen.

“Patch him through.”

“Ahhh my wonderful Mace. I was wondering how the zoning for my wonderful reactors went?” Tony’s voice filled the kitchen, Steve trying hard not to laugh.

“Fine, I actually need to go-”

“Actually I wanted to ask yo-”

“Good night dad.” She punched in her code and shut off her AI for the evening, she turned, and walked toward Steve, leaning against the door frame of her kitchen. “Where were we?”

“I don’t know, I am old, you may have to remind me.” He pulled her into his arms again, and completed their almost kiss he had been thinking of this whole time.

'Cause all the boys and their expensive cars

With their Range Rovers and their Jaguars

Never took me quite where you do

Being a billionaire, everything was at Mason’s disposal. Money was no obstacle and she had tried staying with those at her same status. After all, the arc reactor was fresh and new in energy circles and everyone wanted a piece. She’d seen it all. Private island weddings, beach vacations and yacht parties. She had been asked on more dates than she could count, young heirs, models, actors and the like. Mason had accepted a couple, but it was hard to be impressed with nice things when you could’ve bought them all yourself.

But laying, staring at the calm night sky through her floor to ceiling window, a gently snoring Steve Rogers lying next to her. She would give up her shares if it meant every night could be like these stolen weekends. The soft morning kisses and late nights of her reading, highlighting and signing papers for SI, and him sketching on the bed next to her.

“What are you drawing, my love?” she said softly, moving her papers to the bedside table, resting her head on his shoulder. A small smile grew on his face, she only slipped these terms of endearment when she was quite tired.

“The New York skyline.” He looked down at her. Mason’s eyes were sunken and growing darker. He knew that the company had taken a few hard hits by the senate recently, and her father sure was not helping. “I started it a while ago, but I keep coming back to it.” She was quiet for a while, watching his pencil drift across the paper.

“So I bought a place in New York.” She perked up, and he set his drawing down.

“When?”

“About Two Hours ago” Mason got up, heading toward the bathroom.

“Why?” He asked, following her

She turned the sink on. “Because you can't keep spending weekends away from the tower or DC with no one noticing, and besides, the stupidity behind these energy centers is about done, so I’m gonna move closer. To my dad, to you.” She answered, washing her face, meeting his eyes at the end of her sentence.

“You didn’t have to buy a whole new place.” He settled on the door frame

“Steve, my darling, I have more money than we could ever know what to do with.” She sighed, and turned back towards him. “I’m crazy about you, about us. Plus now if your gone on a mission you don’t have to worry about the extra flight home.” She rested her hands on his shoulders.

“Home?” He smiled, cheeks getting as hot as the first time he asked her out.

“Yeah, home.” She pressed a kiss to his lips, and headed to bed. “You coming?”

Baby, all at once, this is enough

#rep #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x oc #tony stark daughter #tony stark #avengers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers x tony stark daughter

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sp4c3-0ddity · 6 years ago

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Maybe 58 and 86?

at first i wasn’t going to do this one because i’ve already gotten these prompts independently but...well, i had an idea based on my tags on this post, although it’s still kinda...light on the prompts. hope you like ~1500 words of fake dating??

warning for mildly suggestive dialogue

(58) Accidental Eavesdropping

(86) I Didn’t Mean To Turn You On

Pidgecursed the day she declined a job at a tech company in Silicon Valley just to stayclose to her family,because the unintended side effect of staying close to her family was that shestayed close to…Lance.

Lance, her college classmate and unlikelyfriend - the only fine arts major whose name she learned - who somehow managedto hit a big break in his acting career less than a year after graduation.

Lance, who so desperately needed to bring aconvincing plus-one to his ex-girlfriend’s wedding that he asked her to “date” himfor the two months preceding the event.

Lance, who stormed through her workplaceignoring an alarmed shout from the receptionist until he halted beside her deskwaving a magazine.

He dropped it on her computer keyboard andcrossed his arms, glaring. “I never expected such betrayal from you!”

Pidge stared unseeingly at the magazine,her jaw set in irritation. “Lance, you can’t just come into myworkplace and—”

“Pidge,how could you?” His finger prodded the magazine, drawingher attention to its cover.

Morbid curiosity and the desire to get himto stop touching her stuff forced herto pick up the magazine - the tabloidmagazine. Bright colors and bold fonts stared up at her over celebritythumbnail photos, a cover model with too much cleavage showing flashing whiteteeth in the center.

But what really caught her eye…was a slightly blurry photo in the corner- a photo of herself tucked under Lance’s arm, laughing while he smiled fondlyat her.

Her heart skipped a beat at the sight, but only because she recognized it.

The same one stared her in the face frombetween framed pictures of her family at a rocket launch and of her cuddlingher dog, helping her get through monotonous day after monotonous day.

“Thispicture’s on my desk,” she said hollowly. “I-it’s old - from college and before your stupid idea! - so how the hell didthey get it?”Her heart pounded, with anger and not a small amount of anxiety.

Lance’s bribe no longer looked worthwhile.

“Wait,it is?” he said, his eyes widening and taking in her desk, but before she couldreact beyond the heat rushing to her cheeks, he scowled. “The picture isn’t thepoint! It’s the article!”

“The—”Her mouth dried as she finally read the words cluttered around the picture.

New Mystery Girlfriend Demystified! OurLance, Bad In Bed?

Pidge’s jaw dropped. “Oh.”

Lance snatched the magazine back. “That’sall you can say?” he demanded, flipping through its pages.

Pidge inhaled, collecting her thoughts andpostponing her own defense as she stood and grabbed Lance’swrist to drag him away from the prying eyes of her middle-aged male coworkers.

She wondered how likely it was that any ofthem would recognize him (maybe if they had teenage daughters that viewed Lanceas some kind of heartthrob? Ha, in her day it was Orlando Bloom in a long, blondwig…),but who else could’ve shared a picture off her deskthat predated her staged romance with Lance?

Besides, fake or not, it was a privatematter and she did not need anyone toeavesdrop on this argument.

She shut and locked the door to the breakroom before turning to Lance, her palms sweatier than usual and her face hot. “So—”

“Youtold a tabloid that I’m ‘terrible and selfish’ in bed!”

Pidge raised her hands defensively,fumbling for a lie, and retorted, “Y-you are! You’re a blanket hog!”

“Youthrow them off so why does it matter if I hog them?” Lance fired back. “And Iknow you know that’s not what they meant by asking what I’m like inbed!”

Pidge scowled. “Fine!”she said, stepping towards him with her blood rushing in retaliatory anger. “Youput me into a tight spot with this datingthing, and tabloid journalists found me on LinkedInand started messaging me.”

“Wait,why didn’t you tell—”

“Sowhen one approached me in person and asked what you’re like in bed, I panickedand said the first two unflattering adjectives that popped into my head!”

“Whyunflattering?”

“Outof spite, probably!” Pidge threw her hands up, aggravated and with a too-warmface, because the last thing she needed to think about right now was her andLance in that…situation…together. She crossed her arms, forcing her mind backto the matter at hand, and grumbled, “I’m sorry, Lance. I’ll prepare a more flattering lie for next time.”

Lance deflated, most of his anger seemingspent as he frowned at the ugly tile floor between their feet. “Thedamage is already done,” he pointed out. “Now after we split, no one’s going towant to date me.”

Pidge snorted. “Whywould you want to date someone that only cares what you’re like in…bed? And nowthat you know”—a smirk pushed at her lips despite her discomfort with thetopic—”there’s always room for improvement.”

He rolled his eyes and said, “Pidge,I’ll have you know I’m a greatlover that would happily see to your needs!”

Pidge only just stopped herself fromdemanding, Prove it!

Instead she stuttered, “M-my needs?”

Lance’s eyes widened. “What?” He held his handsup, waving them frantically. “N-not yours! A hypothetical future girlfriend’sneeds!”

Oh, her heavy, disappointed, traitorousheart.

Pidge bit her lip, her gaze drifting down. “Isee…”

Her heart skipped a beat when Lance steppedcloser, and she dared to glance up and meet his blue eyes and take in his darkcheeks.

He murmured, “I-I mean, unless you need me to set therecord—”

A sharp knock sounded from the door.

Pidge stumbled backwards, her breathescaping her in a gasp. Lance jumped away from her, yelping when his headcollided with a low cabinet.

Her heart still raced when she unlocked andopened the door to a coworker, who held up an empty mug with a baby’sface printed on it.

“Youdone? I need to make some coffee.”

“Yeah,I’ll just…walk my boyfriend out,” she mumbled.

Pidge grabbed Lance’shand and towed him out of the break room and through rows of cubicles and outpast reception. She apologized for her “boyfriend’s” behavior on her way out,and they made it outside before she dropped his hand and wiped her sweaty palmon her pants.

“Uh,I forgot the magazine—”

“I’llget rid of it,” Pidge promised. She looked up at Lance, mustering a smile fromsomewhere inside, and said, “I really am sorry. I didn’t really think aboutyour”—a grimace twisted her face—”reputation when I answered those questions.”

“It’sokay,” Lance said. “I’ve heard worse - I’ll probably hear worse before the world forgets about me -so…”He sighed and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “I should at least…makesure nothing like this happens to you again.”

Pidge shrugged. “Guessit was only a matter of time before they found out who I am.” She flashed him agrin, warmth filling her chest when he returned it. “Besides, how are you goingto rub it in your ex’s face if she doesn’t know about me? And I know you love attention, so it’llbe that much more fun when we break up.”

Her smile faltered just a bit at thethought, chest tightening.

Why? After the wedding she’dhave all the parts and tech she needed for her side projects and the money tofund them…and she wouldn’t have to pretend to date Lance ever again. They couldgo back to being friends that rarely saw each other and steadily drifted apartwhile they pursued their own lives.

“You’rethe best, Pidge.” Lance leaned down and pressed his lips to her cheek, agesture that grew more familiar as their ruse continued - though it neverfailed to surprise her. “I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

“Yeah.”She rested her hand on his arm, the subtle curve of his bicep obviousunderneath two layers of clothes. “Don’t be late again.”

“Please,Pidge,” he said, rolling his eyes, “I’m never late to game night.”

She scoffed and said, “Whydo I have a feeling you’re late to something right now?”

Lance pulled away from Pidge and checkedhis fancy watch. His eyes shot open as he said, “Holy crow, you’re right! Got a meeting…”

“AndI have to get back to—”

He cupped her face and kissed her forehead,cutting her thought processes off.

Unlike holding hands and the kisses on thecheek in public, this was…unfamiliar.

But not disliked, Pidge decided as a smilepushed at her lips. She raised a hand and waved when he finally left, a smirkon his face as he retreated to the parking lot.

Only as she watched him pull his hood upover his head and don a pair of gaudy blue sunglasses did it hit her:

Did Lance try to proposition me?

#plance #pidgance #lidge #flirtyrobot #qna #voltron #reem writes fic #Anonymous

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thekillingquill · 7 years ago

Text

Question Marks & Emoji Hearts 1/2

Pairing: Peter Parker x OC Word Count: 3,799 Warnings: This is my first ever attempt at writing a fluffy fic. Summary: Step 1: Get her number. Step 2: Engage in some accidental flirting. Step 3: Never let her go. A/N: This is part 1/2 because this fic ran away from me, joined the union and demanded more words. Real Talk: I’m so god damn nervous about this fic (I’ve had like 27 crises of confidence.... so shoutout to my friends for dealing with me). Any feedback on this fic would be the fuel necessary for me to confidently and efficiently finish part two. I’m also keeping a tag list for when I post part 2. Okay thanks. Let’s go!!!

Peter Parker is speechless, his jaw relaxed in an expression of unfiltered awe. His eyes are frozen on her and he knows he’s staring, but he just can’t stop. He’s convinced that he will never see anything this beautiful ever again.

She is 7,541 pieces of perfection waiting for him to do something with her.

“I know,” Ned says, patting his friend on the shoulder. “I cried when I saw her for the first time, too. Check out the BB-8 droid that came with it and it has two buildable Porgs and a buildable Mynock.” Peter’s head turned sharply toward his friend.

“Dude, no way.” If getting the Lego Death Star had been difficult, finding the newest Millennium Falcon set had been a miracle. Ned’s parents were going to get it for him for Christmas, but it sold out in less than a minute so they stuck an I.O.U. in his stocking. Peter throws his backpack, with the Spider-Man suit inside, into the corner of Ned’s room and narrowly misses the desk lamp.

Peter settles down on the floor and reaches for the box to read the specs while Ned sits on his computer chair, lowering it to the ground. Ned swivels toward his desk and turns on an old clock radio, tuning into a news station so they can listen for anything that might require Spider-Man’s assistance.

They work on the Millennium Falcon for about an hour before Ned’s phone slips out of his pocket and lands in front of Peter with a soft thud followed by a loud vibration against the carpet. Peter flips the phone over and nearly drops it again when he sees who is calling: Autumn MacGowan, complete with a contact photo. The picture had to have been taken in the last five days because she got a haircut on Tuesday (Peter thought the shorter look suited her nicely).

Ned pulls his phone out of Peter’s loose grip and answers the call enthusiastically.

“Hey Autumn!” Ned pauses and his smile brightens considerably. “I’m good, thanks. How are you doing?” Peter moves into a crouch, leaning closer to Ned and focusing on listening. He can hear her soft voice, tinny through the phone, responding to Ned with her thoughtful way of speaking.

“I’m fine, thank you. I’m actually calling because my plans for tomorrow have fallen through. I was wondering if you’d like to get together after school.”

“Yeah, that would be great! I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her laugh washes over Peter and he closes his eyes, trying to memorize the sound.

“See you tomorrow, Ned.” Peter opens his eyes in time to see Ned hang up.

“Yo-you have Autumn MacGowan’s phone number?” Peter asks immediately. Ned shoots his friend a perplexed look.

“Yeah, we have history together.” Peter gulps, eyes widening and lips pressing tightly together with nerves.

“You guys--you have history with Autumn MacGowan?” He asks in a daze. Ned reaches out and presses the hand holding his cell phone against Peter’s shoulder. Peter looks down at his friend’s hand and then quickly back to Ned’s worried expression.

“Yeah. We’ve got to do a presentation next week on how American history has influenced media. Autumn suggested that we focus on how Hollywood exploits historical figures for profit.” It takes a few moments for Peter to decipher his friend’s words. It clicks and his mouth opens in shock, eyes widening further.

“When you said history you meant like the class!” He blurts and Ned frowns.

“Yeah, what did you think I meant?”

“I-I don’t know! That you guys dated, maybe.” Ned laughs with his head thrown back, rotating in his computer chair lazily.

“You like Autumn! Hey, do you want her number? She’s really nice, she probably won’t mind.” Peter places both of his hands on Ned’s shoulders, squeezing gently.

“Th-that would be incredible! Thank you!”

“Guy in the chair,” Ned announces with pride, tossing Peter his cell phone.

“Guy in the chair,” Peter echoes as he leans back, catching the phone deftly while falling out of his crouch and into a more comfortable seated position. His fingers move swiftly to type in Ned’s passcode. Peter quickly pulls up her contact information and he pauses to admire her contact picture. Her hair is pushed over her left shoulder and the soft half smile combined with the sparkle in her eyes makes his stomach jolt with excitement.

He shakes himself from her spell to pull out his own phone, which has seen better days, but pauses before entering her number. He taps his fingers on the side of Ned’s phone before coming to the decision to open a new text message.

Can I ask you a question?

Hardly a second has passed before the three dots materialize and then a reply comes through.

Always.

Peter’s fingers fly quickly over the letters, formulating his question.

Can I give my friend Peter your number? Parker. Peter Parker. He’s in your chemistry class. And Spanish. And gym.

“What are you doing?” Ned asks with a laugh. Peter looks up at his best friend with a sheepish smile.

“Well I uh, I thought it would be best if we asked first, you know? It might make her feel weird if I just texted her. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable or-or think I’m creepy.”

“Oh. Good idea.” Peter glances down at the phone in time to see that she replied and for the screen to lock. He rapidly types in the passcode, and the two letters in her reply makes him feel like he’s soaring.

OK.

He starts transferring her number, and her picture, to his phone’s contacts. He takes care to ensure that each number is punched in with accuracy. He’s thinking about how he’s going to start a conversation with her when Ned calls his name. Peter hums softly in acknowledgement, struggling to pull his focus off his phone.

“Peter, Queens needs Spider-Man.” Peter scrambles to get up off the floor, sliding to his backpack in the corner. He pulls out his suit, and turns to toss Ned his phone back, holding his own up to his best friend.

“Text me the details,” he tells him before slipping out the window and climbing to the roof.

Hey it’s Peter. Can I ask you a question? He reads back his words for the third time and lets out an elongated sigh of exhaustion. Peter’s thumb hovers over the send button and he thinks about apologizing just in case she’s busy and his message intrudes on her private time.

He indulges himself with a fantasy of her in her bedroom, back pressed against her headboard and a book resting on her breasts. Her hair will be a mess of curls, a result of her recent haircut, and her eyes will move swiftly from left to right as she devours each sentence. They will follow the rise and fall of her book as she breathes. He imagines that her lips will part in shock at an unexpected twist.

He pulls himself out of the fantasy and taps send, putting his phone face down on his stomach with a groan. He’s still wearing the Spider-Man suit, minus the mask, and feels too tired to move from his bed to strip it off and hide it away. The aching in his muscles is a sign that he had a good patrol and it makes Peter feel like the streets of Queens are at least a little safer tonight.

Peter’s phone hums under his hand and he tilts the screen up tentatively, afraid to get his hopes up, but it’s her. He brings the phone forward and he unlocks it to read her message.

Hey, Peter! Ask away. Sent at 1:59 AM. Peter chokes on his breath, noticing for the first time just how late it actually is. His fingers move swiftly over the keys.

What are you still doing up?! He presses send on the message before he has the chance to overthink it. Her response comes just as quickly and Peter takes a moment to appreciate the fact that he’s actually having a conversation with Autumn MacGowan.

Is that really what you wanted to ask? She took the care to include an emoji with its tongue sticking out which lessens the sting of Peter’s embarrassment. He hits send on his new message again before he succumbs to his own social awkwardness and lets the conversation die.

No, I actually wanted to ask if we have any chemistry. Peter sets his phone to the side, satisfied with his excuse for texting her, and finds the energy to roll off of his bunk bed. He lands soundlessly in a crouch, wincing as his body throbs in pain. Bzzz. He straightens up to loosen the fabric of his suit and lets it fall away to leave him standing in the middle of his room wearing nothing but his red and white plaid boxers.

He clumsily kicks off the suit and moves to the mirror in his bedroom. Bzzz. He can’t see any bruising and experimentally moves his limbs to come to the conclusion that he’s only dealing with muscle aches. Bzzz. Peter leaps lithely onto the ladder of his bunk bed at the sound of his buzzing phone. He feels around on the mattress, groaning when he can’t reach it. He crawls across the mattress, grabbing his phone and flipping onto his back with one leg still dangling over the edge.

Is... that a pickup line? Peter’s eyes widen in horror and he scrolls up to his last message.

“Oh my god, Peter, you idiot.” He whispers to himself.

Wow, Parker, I didn’t think you’d be so forward. Peter groans.

“I wouldn’t.” He says out loud to his empty room.

Full disclosure: I’m impressed. The execution could have been smoother, but I’m still impressed. His stomach clenches at her last message, is it butterflies or nerves? Peter’s fingers fly rapidly across the keys, doing as much damage control as one can at 2:00 am.

I’m so sorry! I meant do we have any chemistry homework!!!??? I’m an idiot. He didn’t mean to hit send. The I’m an idiot was meant to be something cathartic for himself. He doesn’t need to TELL her he’s an idiot when he’s perfectly capable of showing her, obviously. His phone buzzes again.

1. Chemistry homework was to read the next chapter. 2. You’re not an idiot! You’re one of the smartest guys I know. 3. I’m still impressed, okay? 4. As you pointed out earlier, it’s late. So I am going to go to sleep. See you at school! 5. I don’t like my numbered lists to end on an even number. <3 Peter grins at his screen, his stomach jolting again at how unexpectedly adorable her message is.

Thanks! Have a good night. He throws his head back dramatically with a groan. All he wants is to keep talking to her, but he just straight white male-d the conversation.

Every night for the next two weeks, Peter has to start the conversation from scratch with Hey, can I ask you a question? To Autumn’s credit, the answer is almost always prompt and positive. And every night, Peter learns something new about her.

She has an older sister named April. And a dog named Gatsby. She likes Thai food and she thinks having her phone at the dinner table is rude. Her favourite class is photography and she likes when he wears shirts with science puns. She drinks a hot chocolate every day.

Each time she shares something personal about herself with him, Peter feels like he’s flying.

Or maybe he’s falling.

“Looks like Yearbook Club is out to get pictures before school. Hey, how’s my hair?” Peter looks up from his textbook at the sound of Ned’s voice, glancing at his friend from around his locker door and then down the hall. His eyes are, as usual, drawn to Autumn MacGowan immediately.

Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, the shorter length allowing for strands to escape the tie and curl around her neck where her camera hangs. She cradles the camera delicately, one hand under the base and one curled around the lens. Autumn snaps pictures as she walks down the hall. Walks towards him, Peter realizes with a jolt of excitement.

Their interactions at school have been minimal: a hand raised in recognition, prolonged eye contact across a crowded classroom, a quiet hello as they pass in the halls. His favourite, though, is the smile she seems to have reserved just for him. It’s the kind of smile given to someone you share a secret with and seeing it never fails to thrill him.

He tries to temper down the feeling of excitement and waits for her to pass by, to flash him the secret smile, but she stops in front of them. Peter’s breathing stutters in surprise, his heart pounding harder in his chest.

“Good morning Ned,” she greets, disappearing behind her camera to snap a quick picture of him. “I heard a rumour that we’ll be getting our marks back today.”

“That’s awesome.” Ned turns to Peter, nudging his arm. “We crushed it.”

“Wh-what?” Peter asks dumbly, looking quickly to Ned before bringing his gaze back to Autumn. He knows that he’s staring, but he can’t seem to help it. For the first time since she stopped to talk to Ned, Autumn turns her gaze on Peter.

“Our presentation. The one for History class? I told you about it.” Even though Ned is speaking, Autumn doesn’t let her eyes stray away from Peter.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember.” Peter mumbles to Ned. He sucks in a shallow breath as Autumn’s lips form that secret smile. A little bubble of laughter slips past her lips and he can only stare at how it makes her glow.

“You wear grey really well, Parker.” And then she snaps a picture of him, so quickly that he doesn’t have time to conjure a smile. “I like the red plaid you have here.” She stops cradling the lense of her camera to bring a finger to touch the collar of his shirt. Autumn takes two steps backward and tilts her head to the side, like he’s a work of art mean to be admired from a distance. And then in a much quieter, more intimate tone, she tells him: “You look very handsome, Peter.”

He looks down at his shoes quickly, trying to control his blushing, and then peeks up at her through his lashes with an embarrassed half smile. It’s the moment she is waiting for, and she captures it forever--the first time she sees him blush from something she’s said. Peter licks his lips nervously as she assesses the image on her screen, her bottom lip becoming trapped between her teeth. She taps her thumb on the side of the camera before looking up at Peter with her lips pressed tightly together and he’s frozen, waiting for her to decide how they move forward together.

“Can I ask you a question?” She asks tentatively. Peter nods enthusiastically.

“Yeah, yeah of course!” She takes a step closer to Peter, offering her camera to him.

“Would it be okay with you if I put this in my portfolio?” He glances at the image and then back at her face.

“Really?” He asks her with mild skepticism. She fidgets with the settings on her camera to avoid Peter’s gaze.

“Yeah, really. It’s a good picture. No, it’s a great picture, actually.”

“Yeah, it is. Of course you can use it in your portfolio. I’m-I’m honoured, really.” Peter can see her swallowing back what she really wants to say, has seen her do this a hundred times in class, but he wants to be the person she tells everything to. He doesn't want her censored. He wants all of her intricate thoughts, all of her ugly secrets, and even her most ridiculously random thoughts.

So he takes a chance and pushes her a little, the way she did for him on the first night he texted her.

"Is that really what you wanted to ask me?" She presents him with a closed mouth smile, the words locked behind her teeth. "I just get the sense that you want to ask me about more than your portfolio."

"It's not a question," she begins carefully, her gaze sliding over to Ned. Peter also directs his attention to look at Ned who has his thumbs under the straps of his backpack and an amused grin on his face as he watches all of this unfold. Peter clenches his jaw and gives a slight jerk of his head. Ned doesn’t seem to be picking up on what Peter is trying to communicate.

"It's more like a request," she finishes. Peter looks back at Autumn quickly, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Anything." She laughs again, her head tilting back and her hands tightening its grip on her camera.

"Peter, you don't even know what it is!"

"Well, I will if you tell me." That brings that secret smile to her face again and Peter feels a surge of pride for being the person solely responsible for putting it there. Her smile diminishes slightly as she looks around the hall.

“Can we go somewhere a little more private?” She asks quietly, beginning to fidget with the focus lens on her camera. Peter shoots a quick look to Ned, assessing his best friend’s reaction. Ned nods emphatically, adjusting the straps of his backpack.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, we can do that.” Autumn’s eyes are bright, Peter thinks it could be from excitement, and she takes her hand off of the lens of her camera to reach for his. Peter gulps and follows her lead, slipping his hand further into hers to grip it. She smiles at him and gives a gentle tug, beginning to lead him away from his locker. Peter looks quickly over his shoulder at his best friend and Ned gives him two thumbs up and a supportive grin.

Ned isn’t the only student at Midtown who has taken notice of Peter and Autumn. Peter catches sight of Flash’s incredulous expression as they pass by.

“Was the Penis Parker with Autumn MacGowan?” Flash asks the person standing next to him. The disbelief in Flash’s voice gives Peter yet another reason to smile. Autumn squeezes his hand, rubbing her thumb against his wrist under the sleeve of his sweater. The main reason he has for smiling.

Autumn guides them into the library and brings them to the hallway on the left that leads to eight small study rooms for students to utilize. She walks up to Room 4, which is very clearly occupied, and knocks quietly twice. After a moment, the door opens a crack and Autumn whispers lowly to the occupant.

“I need the room.”

“Okay, for how long?”

“I don’t know, but you owe me.”

“I know. Let me just get my stuff.” The door closes again and after a minute or so opens again to reveal a girl that Peter doesn’t immediately recognize. She stands in the doorway, her eyes focusing on where his hand envelopes Autumn’s. A smirk slowly emerges.

“Oh, I get it now.” She says laughingly to Autumn.

“Shut up,” Autumn mutters defensively, pushing past the girl and pulling Peter along with her. The girl’s laughter is muted once the door shuts behind them. Autumn takes a deep breath, releasing Peter’s hand to lift her camera over her head and place it on the table in the center of the room.

His hand feels cold without hers. This change in location feels like it has ruined the flow of their conversation and he doesn’t know how to fix it. Autumn turns to face him abruptly, taking two long steps until she’s toe to toe with him.

"Please don't give that look to any other girls.” She pauses, taking another deep breath to gather her courage. “They might just go and fall in love with you, too."

It takes him a moment to process what she’s said, to recognize the fear and the hope in her expression. He feels too much all at once: disbelief, hope, adoration, pride, excitement, happy, brave, stupid, lucky, untouchable, and maybe something that could be the beginning of his first great love story.

So he does the only thing that makes sense to him in that moment.

“Hey Autumn, can I-can I ask you a question?” She looks up at him, her cheeks flushed and it seems to Peter like her heart may be cracked open just for him, and nods. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” her voice is soft, but sure. Peter honestly didn’t expect her to say yes and, now that she has, he isn’t sure how to proceed. One part of him wants to just dive in and kiss her, but the other part of him wants to take his time to really commit the moment to memory.

His hands shake as he brings them to touch her cheeks softly. He uses one hand to lightly trace along her cheekbone to her jaw until he is gently cupping the back of her neck.

“Are you sure?” He asks, because maybe she changed her mind.

Her answer is to curl her fingers in the collar of his shirt and lean up to press her mouth to his with intent. Peter inhales sharply through his nose, breathing in her scent of something sweet and citrusy, and takes his hand from her face to press against her back, keeping her steady. Her lips part slightly against his and Peter sighs in contentment, a sound echoed by Autumn when he pulls back to press a lingering kiss to her cheek.

Peter closes his eyes, pressing his face into her neck as she reaches up to wrap her arms around his shoulders in an embrace. He sighs happily and presses another kiss to her cheek. He can’t get enough of this feeling, of her scent and her warmth. It all feels like a very good dream.

“I’ve wanted to do that for months.” He whispers to the room. Autumn laughs, beginning to run her fingers through his hair. He bites his lip to keep from moaning at how nice it feels to be touched so gently.

“I’ve been waiting for that kiss since you held open the door for me at Freshmen orientation.” Peter laughs into her neck, squeezing her closer.

“Sorry I kept you waiting for so long.” The first bell rings and Autumn pulls away from him. Her smile is so beautiful.

“That’s okay. I knew you were going to be worth the wait, Peter Parker.”

TAG LIST: @writing-obrien; @ju-gg; @spiderparkerboy; @jvghead-jones-iii; @velvetacex; @tasteofswallowedwords; @winteroses; @thatsadbreakfastclub; @amycarstairs; @forsythe-pendleton-jones-iv; @sarahaera

#Question Marks and Emoji Hearts #Peter Parker #Peter Parker Imagine #Spider-Man Imagine #Spider-Man Homecoming Imagine #Marvel Imagine #Spider-Man: Homecoming Imagine #Peter Parker x OC #Spider-Man x OC #Imagine #Quill Writes #Ned Leeds #Peter Parker Fluff #Spider-Man Fluff

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sunken-standard · 7 years ago

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Drabble Meme Prompt Fill Number Infinity

Since I had three sets of prompts with significant overlap, I combined them:

Requested by @mistykins06:Dear one. I'm incredibly late to the latest Drabble challenge so I shall throw 86 (You’re cute with glasses) and 96 (I could’ve gone pro) at you to do with what you will. Love, Mistykins06 Requested by @mizjoely: If you're still taking prompts, 20, 21 & 22 would be fab (together, apart, whatever floats your boat!) - When’s the last time you smiled?/ Stop being such a brat/ If I wanted one, I would have gotten it myself Requested by @theleftpill: For the drabble meme - I have no idea what the phrases are since I don't have the original list, so I'm choosing numbers for personal reasons: 86 (You’re cute with glasses ), 20 (When’s the last time you smiled?), 22 (If I wanted one, I would have gotten it myself)

Set in The Cheese Stands Alone ‘verse.

"You’re cute with glasses"/ "I could’ve gone pro"/ "When’s the last time you smiled?"/ "Stop being such a brat"/ "If I wanted one, I would have gotten it myself"

"Stop being such a brat and just come back," Molly said, her ancient cordless phone wedged between her ear and shoulder as she refilled the salt shaker. She always tidied her kitchen when she was using her land line, it was ridiculous. Who still used a land line anyway? Her one remaining friend from the Tom-era and former colleague 'Meena,' apparently. Dull. "Three is old enough to stay home alone for a few hours while you take a shift in the lab. Just give him a little Benylin and put him in a dog crate with a blanket over it, turn on the telly for some noise, he won't even know you're gone."

Ah yes, the future mother of my children, Sherlock thought dryly.

"Pfft, unfit. And if I wanted one, I would have got it myself. No, it's not baby-snatching if you leave something of equal value in the pram, like a puppy or a bag of apples."

He glanced up and she was smiling that little dimply, impish smile of hers. She was trying to murder him; cause of death—ironically unrequited love and cuteness.

"I'm telling you, the new techs they send in just keep getting worse. I don't know where they're getting them, but..." A pause while Meena said something that made Molly's lips twist into a half-smile, half grimace. "Oh, he was a dope, but at least he's not a creep. This new one, Gaz—yeah, I know, right?—spent his entire first day staring at my tits like he was trying to make eye contact with them to assert his dominance or something."

He's not going to last long, Sherlock thought darkly. His eyes drifted to her chest, her bra-less breasts wobbling rather enticingly under her t-shirt. Molly would find a way to take care of it, she always did, but if she didn't, he could arrange for 'Gaz' to accidentally fall down some stairs or something else equally violent and debilitating. One of the many perks of associating with the criminal classes.

Molly snapped her fingers in front of her chest to get his attention, then pointed rather pointedly to her eyes while pursing her lips. They're up here.

Shit. She'd caught him looking. And rather than being flustered or flattered or—best-case—ready to throw the phone down and whip her t-shirt over her head to let him have a go at them, she just looked annoyed.

She laughed at something Meena said and went back to tidying the worktop.

"Ugh, my ear feels like it's going to fall off," she said, flopping down next to him on the sofa. It was a Herculean effort not to watch her breasts bounce as she did it; now that she knew he looked and she wasn't happy about it, it was all he wanted to do. Well, more than he normally did, which, to be fair, was a significant amount of time anyway.

He looked at her ear, instead, which was quite red from where it had been pressed to the phone for the last hour and change.

"Now you know why I don't like lengthy phone conversations."

"You don't like any phone conversations," she contradicted, pulling that scornful face of hers that made her look like she should be wearing a ball gown, surrounded by birds and anthropomorphic mice and talking teapots.

"Texting is easier."

"Not when I'm in the middle of a post-mortem."

"That's why you have assistants."

"I have assistants to assist with the post-mortem. Not to answer questions like, 'Could you, in theory, fit three Walnut Whips in your mouth at once?' Though really, can't complain about that one, the next day I had seven of them on my desk because apparently Ann told everyone in the department and they all wanted to know. So, I mean, free chocolate. Oh, don't make that face."

"What face? This is my normal face." He might have been making a face; that text was actually supposed to be private, since it wasn't for a case and more a matter of personal curiosity. He'd also been eating a Walnut Whip at the time and was having other, entirely less innocent thoughts about her eating one, too.

"Well, yes, but it's a glower. When's the last time you smiled?"

"Yesterday, though it may have just been wind," he answered dryly.

It had the desired effect; she couldn't help herself and snorted. Molly loved a fart joke. Maybe he could get her to watch some Monty Python again later.

"I really wish Meena would come back. She was so good at her job—no accidents, always there on time, never ran the wrong tests on the wrong samples. And she was so much fun! She was the one who dared me to wear her glasses when they did the new ID badge photos. We were talking about how no one ever checks them anyway and I could probably wear a clown nose and a rainbow wig and no one would even raise an eyebrow," Molly said, her tone wistful.

"Mm, always wondered why you had them in that picture," he murmured distractedly, deftly applying a second coat of red varnish to her middle toenail. Being her stand-in girlfriend wasn't all bad all the time; at least he got to be physically close to her and she talked to him. "You look cute with glasses."

Bollocks, he thought. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. He hoped she'd just take it as a girlfriend thing, like telling her her hair was on point or those shoes were hot or whatever it was women said to each other to be supportive.

"Oh, ah, thank you," she said. It was almost a question.

"You're welcome?" he answered, making it a question himself.

He finished applying the varnish in excruciating silence; he was very aware of Molly watching him as he picked her foot up off his lap to blow on her still-wet nails. It was a heavy moment.

"You're, ah, really good at that. Pedicures, I mean," Molly said, her voice strained.

"Had a case once for a nail salon owner. Industrial espionage, more or less—well, less, more than more, they had their own line of varnishes and care products that were being tampered with. Learned how to do it there. She said I could've gone pro. I even got to keep the tips," he babbled, realizing he'd been swiping his thumb over Molly's ankle.

"Just the tips?" Molly asked, and he really wasn't sure if she was making a sex joke or asking a genuine question; he swallowed hard against the implication of the former and the very vivid image his brain supplied him with.

"Actually got a bottle of nail varnish, too. I used it in an experiment. It was purple." I carried a watermelon.

Good thing she didn't know he'd actually seen (and liked) Dirty Dancing; he could at least maintain the illusion of having a working pair of testicles. There had to be an appropriate joke in there about the colour blue as well, but he was having a hard time (ha) thinking past the smoothness of her skin. She'd shaved just the night before.

"How is your ankle, by the way?" he asked, changing the subject to something safe.

"Much better, barely feel it now. Bruising's almost gone," she said too quickly, grateful that the conversation was moving away from weird, at least.

"I see," he said, pushing up her trouser leg under the pretence of inspecting her ankle.

"I mean, you can still wait on me hand and foot and carry me up the stairs, if you're still feeling guilty," she joked. "Wouldn't mind a bacon butty right now. Or a glass of wine. Or both."

He turned to her with a look of appalled affront at her gustatory choices, then let it drop. "Actually, do you have any bacon in? I'm a bit peckish myself."

"No, but I've still got plenty of cheese."

"Grilled cheese it is, then. Goes better with the wine, anyway," he said, easing himself out from under her feet.

"Mm, God, this is gorgeous," she said, using her finger to swipe a gooey string of cheese off of her chin. "Since when do you know how to cook things that aren't potentially explosive or otherwise hazardous?"

"I'm a man of many talents," he said before biting into his own sandwich. Using the sliced apple in it had been a stroke of brilliance if he did say so himself. "I know how to both boil and fry an egg, too," he added.

"With skills like that, you'll make some lucky woman very happy one day," she said lightly. "You can certainly fill out an apron." She gave him an amused mock-leer from where she was leaned against the sink with her plate.

The apron was rather ridiculous, but he wasn't going to ruin a £300 shirt with grease splatter.

"Well, if you ever come across a woman who doesn't mind the occasional potentially explosive or otherwise hazardous dinner, enjoys solving crimes, and can provide me with human body parts for experimentation, then do give her my number," he said, skirting the edge of actually flirting by injecting just a hint of sarcasm into his tone. It was either that or drop to his knees and beg her to just give him a chance to make her happy; he'd rather not ruin the evening, though.

"I don't know, a woman like that sounds awfully dangerous. Probably has a few bodies buried in her back garden. Could have had an ex-boyfriend that was a criminal mastermind. Maybe he's even buried in her back garden." She smirked before taking a bite of her sandwich.

He was hit with the memory of when he'd told her Moriarty was dead and she needed to do something with the body until Mycroft could arrange disposal; Shall I just bury him in my back garden, then? had been her incredulous response. Hadn't been nearly as amusing at the time.

Wait, was she flirting? Or was she just going along with the joke?

"I like a woman who knows her way around a shovel. Graverobbing's always much more fun with two."

"I thought that was housebreaking."

"That too. Lots of things are better with two. Vandalism, confidence tricks, footraces, most board games..."

"Sex," she supplied.

"Probably," he agreed.

He could almost hear the needle scratch across the vinyl before she scrutinized him.

"I mean, with one person it's not really sex as such and three or more is just too many, so two for sex. Two is the magic number there. Two people. Having sex," he stumbled to clarify, anything to cover the fact that he had no first-hand knowledge of the act.

"Ohhh-kay."

And it was going so well there for a minute.

"Sherlock," she said, pulling her calves away from his still-cold feet.

"Hm."

"If I, ah, ever did meet a woman like you described before, or, I mean, someone I thought you might like, would you, ah, ever want me to introduce you? Because, I—I would."

"Thank you, but no."

"Women not your area, married to your work, right."

"No, that's just what I tell John when asks annoying, invasive questions." Because it was dark and he was turned away from her and there was always something about the night-time that made confessions easier, he said it. "To be quite honest, I'm not interested in meeting any women. I've already met one and I can't really imagine anyone else being able to hold a candle to her."

"Oh," she said quietly, sadly. "If you, ah, ever want to talk about it, I mean, it must be hard to keep up long distance for so long..."

Long distance? What was she—oh. Irene Adler, John's blog and the lie he'd told about the witness protection scheme in America.

Really though, what he had with Molly could be considered long distance; the other side of the bed may as well be the other side of the world for all the distance between them.

"It can be trying at times, but every moment I do get with her is precious," he said sincerely. It was probably a cruel thing to do to make her think it was someone else, but maybe, just maybe, if he could get his feelings out like this, he could tell her the truth someday. Or else he was shooting himself in the foot.

She reached over and gave his arm a gentle squeeze.

"I'd spend every hour of every day with her if I could. Sleep next to her every night. Apart from the cold feet, I don't think she'd mind."

"She probably doesn't mind the cold feet as much as she pretends to," Molly said, her voice taking on that gentle, heartbreaking tone of hers when she was clamping down on her own misery to ease someone else's.

He'd maybe made a bit of a mistake, miscalculated how deeply buried the feelings she used to have for him still were. He didn't want to hurt her.

He wiggled backwards a bit and pressed his feet against her again; this time to the outside of her leg, one foot from her ankle to mid-calf, the other above it.

"Or maybe she does mind it, but she puts up with your bullshit because she loves you too much anyway," Molly said, poking him in the back.

His heart sped up with the thought of Molly loving him in return; what a wonderful thing that would be.

"I do sometimes wonder if she does. She's never said it. Not in so many words, at least."

"Have you ever said it to her? I mean, assuming you do love her, which it sounds like you do."

"Oh, I do. More than I ever thought possible. Never found the right moment to actually tell her, though. The timing's always bad."

"Mm. Yeah." A pause. "I'm sure you'll find the right time and the right words one day."

"One hopes," he dismissed.

They settled back down to sleep, both lost in their own thoughts.

"Molly—"

"Hm?"

"Goodnight." He just couldn't do it. Wanted to, but couldn't.

One day.

#mistykins06 #mizjoely #theleftpill #sherlolly #drabble ask meme round 3 #sunken's secret stash

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cranialgames · 7 years ago

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AtSP: Branch Timeline

I wrote this around the time chapters 75-ish were being posted of After the Shadows Pass, and it contains major spoilers for the goings-on in that fic.

None of this is particularly canon for the AtSP universe, and I’m posting with @mightylauren‘s blessing because she’s a star C:

Be warned: it’s angsty Ereloy, it’s kind of long, and it’s very unedited.

Extra notes beneath the cut because spoilers but basically this takes place in a timeline where Elof survives the battle with Dervahl. Elof surviving meant that, somehow, Erend barely made it out of the battle with his life, and Aloy spends the pregnancy effectively alone.

Enjoy??

==========

It took an amazing amount of willpower to get her to Teb’s door that morning.

Dressed in just her sleeping tunic, leggings and boots, she drew the attention of most of the braves she passed by. She held her head down to try and hide her flaming red cheeks, scowling at the ground, walking as fast as she could without running.

Thankfully, she was only waiting a few moments before Teb answered the door, his raised eyebrows drawing together in confusion when he saw who it was.

“Everything okay? You were hitting the door pretty hard, there.”

“Can I come in?”

“Uh, sure,” Teb said, and he stood back to allow her into his home, following her movements the whole time. He caught sight of the bundle of cloth in her arms, “I take it this isn't a social visit?”

“No,” Aloy replied, not quite meeting his eyes, “I need help.”

“What's wrong? Has something happened?” Teb asked immediately, panic edging his voice. Aloy held the bundle out to him, and honest fear flashed in his eyes.

“Nothing fits me anymore,” Aloy admitted.

Teb visibly relaxed almost straight away, and laughed in disbelief. “Is that all?”

“Please don't laugh at me,” Aloy murmured. The walk through the village had been humiliating enough; she didn't need her best friend laughing at her, too. “Can you let these out?”

Teb squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. Aloy had to force herself to not cringe away, but it was still better than being laughed at.

“Sure I can,” he said, “sit by the fire and warm up, and I'll get my things.”

Aloy gave him a wavering smile and did as he'd asked, wrapping herself up in one of the blankets stacked by the fireside. Realising that her clothes truly didn't fit her that morning had been a hard brew to swallow, and it was a relief to get some breathing room to process it.

“Actually, Aloy, I have a confession to make.” Teb said when he reappeared. She looked at him curiously, and he deposited a folded tunic in her lap, “I've been waiting for this to happen.”

Aloy unfolded the tunic. It was in much the same design as her old one. Teb encouraged her to try it on, which she did, and she found it gaping in the belly area.

“Teb, this is lovely,” she said, “but it's kind of loose.”

“Here,” he said, reaching for her. She lifted her arm to let him touch her sides and fasten some ties he'd put there, seemingly for that exact purpose. The top tightened to a perfect fit across her tummy, and she gave him an impressed nod.

“Better?”

“Much,” she replied, pleased.

“I have to ask…” Teb started after a moment, “did you not see this coming?”

-----

Aloy stared down at the beautiful hand-carved crib with awe. It had been made skilfully, the wood sanded and varnished to a smooth shine, the Oseram runes carved into its surface glistening as their edges caught the light.

“It's… wow,” she breathed, tracing the parts she could easily reach with her fingertips, “did you go all the way to the Claim for this?”

Elof and Brant looked between each other momentarily.

“It's an Oseram custom,” Elof explained, slowly, hesitantly, “when a woman is pregnant, her husband builds a crib for the baby.”

“It's the first gift a child gets,” Brant continued, “we thought, y’know, your baby will be born soon; he can't go without his first gift.”

“Cap would've done the same for us.”

Aloy nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on the crib. It really was beautiful, made of dark wood, the joints held together securely with shiny iron brackets. It was fairly large, probably to accommodate the baby for at least a couple of years - that, or all of Brant’s teasing had substance, and the baby really would be huge.

“It looks amazing,” Teb said, “you made it yourselves?”

“I did all of the smithing and woodcutting,” Brant said loudly, over what Elof was going to say, “Elof stood there and barked orders.”

Elof shoved him, and Brant laughed. Anehita covered her mouth with her hand, as if she was laughing, too, and leaned back into Brant’s side as Elof started to explain.

The wood they used to make it was paid for by Avad, as it turned out, and all of the Oseram runes were carved by both of them. A lot of the runes were for decoration, but a few of them - Brant pointed out which ones - represented Erend’s clan, or invoked strength and warded off diseases. They'd even managed to include the womb-shaped sigil of All-Mother, and still, all of the symbols looked like they belonged together.

“We’re not a superstitious tribe,” Elof said, “but it can't hurt, right?”

“What do you think, Aloy?” Teb prompted. Aloy hadn't taken her eyes off of the crib once during the entire conversation. She stared as if she was looking right through it.

“Yeah, it's…” she started, distractedly. She wasn't sure what she really thought. It felt like there was a knife in her gut. “I need to pee.”

Avoiding their confused looks, Aloy laboriously pushed herself up out of her chair.

“Do you need help, or…” Brant offered, his eyes on the round belly she was having to manoeuvre. He looked genuinely concerned, and it made Aloy feel queasy. Aloy raised her eyebrow at him.

“To pee? I think I'll be okay.”

Before they could say anything else to her, Aloy walked straight out of the room.

Honestly, she had intended on going to relieve herself - when you’re as pregnant as Aloy, any bladder is a full bladder. When she was out of the lodge, however, she didn’t turn, or stop; Aloy walked right to the edge of the village. The other people milling around eyed her warily when she paused before the open gates, her unwavering gaze cast out across the plains of the Embrace. Her hands itched for her bow, for a way for her to process and work through all the tumultuous things she was feeling - but if she couldn’t even get up from a chair without making a scene, she probably wasn’t in much shape to be hunting. She wove her fingers together beneath her bump, instead, and tried to breathe steadily.

Aloy hadn’t even known about the Oseram custom that Brant and Elof had described to her. Granted, they had all been preoccupied by Dervahl’s attempted invasion of the Nora lands when she had discovered that she was pregnant, but still, she felt like it was something she should have known.

“Aloy,” Teersa said, her hand at Aloy’s elbow, making Aloy jump, “will you come with me a moment.”

“That doesn't sound like a question,” Aloy commented tonelessly. Teersa fixed her with a look that left no room for further sarcasm and started back up the rise, gesturing for Aloy to follow her. Teresa's age usually meant that Aloy had to slow her pace down when they walked together, but that was another thing the pregnancy had changed. Aloy was out of breath long before Teersa was, and she had to stop and sit for a moment about halfway back up the rise.

“I wanted to speak to you about what you plan to do when the time comes,” Teersa explained, after she had chided Aloy for over-exerting herself. Aloy just tried to not feel embarrassed about being outrun by someone's great-grandmother. “Have you made preparations?”

“Well, I have a shiny new crib,” Aloy muttered. Teersa chuckled.

“I thought you might not react well to that when I saw it. Huge, cumbersome thing,” Teersa said, “I expect you have your own ideas for decorating.”

Aloy frowned up at Teersa from her seat. Honestly, it hadn't even occurred to her, between caring for herself and for Erend. “Should I?”

Teersa held her gaze for a moment. Aloy had a feeling like she was being analysed.

“Let’s get inside and talk in private,” she said instead. Aloy huffed, and heaved herself up from her impromptu seat.

-----

Anehita’s hands were cool on Aloy’s belly, which was warmed from the many layers she kept herself wrapped up in, as she firmly felt her way across the bump.

“Good,” she said softly, “baby's facing the right way, now.”

“He's kicking me right in the ribs,” Aloy complained, making a face, and Anehita laughed good-naturedly.

“It’ll hurt a lot less when you're giving birth, trust me.”

Aloy settled back in the examining cot, uncomfortable with the baby pressing on her bladder and her lungs and her back all at once - but what else was new? She had been pregnant for almost the full nine months, and uncomfortable for probably eight of them.

Anehita hummed a lilting tune under her breath as she worked, measuring the size of the bump with her fingers. The baby stopped kicking for a few seconds, and Aloy's belly stretched oddly as he squirmed, not giving her much of a respite before he started to kick again.

“He's an active one, isn't he?” Anehita said, shaking her head with a fond smile and starting her measurements over again.

“This is nothing. I'm pretty sure he does somersaults in there every night just to keep me awake.”

Anehita frowned slightly despite her smile, her head tilting as she worked.

“Try getting up and swaying your body like you're rocking him, if you're having trouble sleeping,” she suggested, “it'll help him settle.”

“I'll do that,” Aloy murmured. Truthfully, she had been accidentally napping so much during the day, she wouldn't be surprised if that was what was really screwing up her sleep pattern. It probably would help if her baby didn't spend all night rolling around in her tummy, though.

When she finished, Anehita helped Aloy get back up into a sitting position. Usually, Aloy would reject the help, but she had gotten so big that even the most simple of tasks now took extra manoeuvring. The more difficult things - like propping Erend's head up to feed him, or lifting his heavy arms and legs to work the muscles so they didn't atrophy, or sitting up in a sagging examination cot - had had to be delegated away from her.

“Not long now, anyway,” Anehita said comfortingly, and Aloy choked on the lump in her throat. It really wasn't long until she was due to give birth, and every tiny little hope that she clung on to was soon going to wither and die. Before she could stop it, she thought of herself, alone and in pain, fighting desperately to bring their baby into the world alive and healthy, while the baby's own father lay in his not-dead-but-not-alive state, unable to help or support her. A part of her felt bitter and angry, like it was Erend's fault that he hadn't woken in months, even though his injuries had healed. Mostly, though, she felt scared and anxious; everyone had thought that Erend would have woken by now, but as the time crept closer and closer like an evening shadow, stretching out to engulf her, Aloy could no longer ignore the fact that Erend might not wake up in time for the birth.

Aloy could no longer ignore the fact that Erend might not wake up at all.

Anehita moved suddenly, leaning forward in her chair to wrap her arms around Aloy’s shoulders, pulling her close. There was an awful noise, a shuddering gasp full of grief and anger and fear, and it wasn't until Anehita pressed Aloy’s damp face into her shoulder that she realised the noise had come from inside herself. Aloy held on to Anehita like a lifeline, her agonised sobbing muffled into her friend's collar, as Anehita whispered soothingly to her, brushing her hair away from her face. Once Aloy started crying, she didn't feel like she would ever stop - every worry that plagued her when she was alone, every bad memory, and every nightmare came rushing to the forefront all at once. It was almost too much, she was bursting at the seams with the weight of the baby already, and now that everything was spilling out of her, it was like a never-ending circle of pain and grief. She had built a dam up inside herself, used it to prop her up and keep her going despite the pain she was in, and now that dam was breaking down. Aloy was breaking down, and she didn't know if it would ever end.

Eventually, she did tire herself out. Her desperate wailing quieted down to wet, hiccupping gasps, and Anehita’s soft humming started to soothe her. Vaguely, she wondered if Anehita knew she was gently rocking Aloy from side to side, just as she had told Aloy to do for her baby when he was also struggling to settle. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she sagged against her friend, exhausted.

Anehita asked her quietly if she wanted to sleep for a while. Already halfway there, all Aloy could do was nod, and Anehita helped her lie back on her side in the cot. Aloy's eyes fell shut, and as she drifted, she felt heavy, warm blankets drape over her, the weight of them making her feel supported and safe.

Aloy slept, her body curled around the still-growing life in her womb, dreaming of the day that Erend would finally hold their baby in his arms.

-----

Teb eyed her warily.

“Dialogue,” Aloy said, rocking back and forth.

“Dialogue,” Teb said, “what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” Aloy asked, still swaying on the spot. Teb gestured at her, and she understood, “Anehita said I should try moving like I'm rocking him if I want him to settle down and sleep,”

“Okay,” Teb said at length, laughing, “so why do you look like you really need to pee?”

Aloy stopped, and stared at him witheringly. He threw a pillow up to her and, clumsily, she caught it.

“Use that,” he suggested, “pretend it's your baby.”

“It's more feathery than my baby's going to be. I hope,” she commented dryly, but cradled it against her shoulder all the same. It was soft, and probably much lighter than a baby, and much less wriggly, but if she closed her eyes, the illusion worked. Aloy swayed on the spot, rocking gently back and forth like a boat on a lulling river. Eventually, the baby - the real one - quieted down, and the rolling feeling in her stomach lessened. She sighed contentedly.

“You're going to be an amazing mother,” Teb said, his voice miles away from her.

-----

{+}

Aloy relaxed into the chair, pausing her story for a moment. She noticed that the kicking and squirming inside her tummy had settled down, and she smiled at Erend.

“Hmm, he must be sleeping. Guess it's just you and me,” she said. With her thumb, she stroked the back of Erend’s hand, a content smile on her face.

“I can't wait for you to meet each other,” she said fondly, her eyes drifting to the fire that flickered and danced in the hearth. Her earlier conversation with Anehita sprung back to mind, as much as she tried to push it away, and the tears started to fall before she even felt them brewing. She felt stupid all of a sudden, talking to a man that was half-dead as if he could answer her, as if she was doing anything more than just fooling herself into believing that everything would end up okay.

“Can you even hear me?” she whispered, her eyes sore and her voice cracking at the edges. Beneath his hand, she felt another fluttering nudge, and she was so surprised that she smiled and laughed wetly. Erend wasn't answering, but she wasn't alone.

“I know baby, I'm okay,” she promised, in a soothing tone, “I'll stop crying; go back to sleep.”

A few moments passed, and she wiped the tears from her eyes and cheeks, and sniffed hard, encouraging herself to relax again. She stroked the back of Erend's hand with hers, and when she felt the movement again, she froze.

Aloy sat up straight and stared down at where Erend lay sleeping. She threw away the blanket that was covering her, keeping the autumn chill at bay, and gasped.

Resting on her belly, Erend's fingers twitched.

------

“Are you sure you're okay? Your pupils are huge.”

“I'm fine,” Erend said in a distant voice, his eyes fixed on her tummy.

“Teersa says that if you're feeling up to it, we should take a walk around the village,” Aloy said. She looked down in surprise at the feeling of Erend's hand on her belly, fingers spread, following the rounded curve upwards. She sighed, and gloomily added, “I know. I'm the size of a Thunderjaw.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. She frowned slightly; she had expected him to do as everyone else had done, and wave off her self-consciousness and reassure her that every pregnant woman was beautiful, or full of life, or something else puke-inducing.

“You're out of it, aren't you?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head slowly, “I'm so turned on.”

Aloy tilted her head, eyebrows furrowed. She was well aware of how much she resembled an upside-down Bellowback, and Erend found that attractive? “Really?”

“Steel to my soul.”

“Well,” Aloy said, dumbstruck, and grinning bemusedly, “walk around the village first, and then we’ll see what happens.”

Erend didn't respond straight away, his eyes still glued to her middle. Aloy shifted from one foot to the other, and ended up perching on the edge of the bed.

“It must be a shock to wake up to this all of a sudden,” she commented.

“Not really,” Erend replied. His eyes flicked up to hers, and his pupils were finally constricting, but he was still drawing lazy circles on her belly, and she felt the baby start to wake up. Aloy tilted her head again, confused, and he elaborated, “I was out, but… I was drifting for a lot of it. Some days I was more aware than others.”

“The healer said that if I talked, you might be able to hear it.” Aloy said, a question in her tone. Erend nodded thoughtfully.

“I definitely heard some stuff,” he replied, “no idea how much of it actually happened. I knew a lot of time was passing- didn't know how much, but I heard Brant and Elof telling you about the crib, so I knew that months had gone by, at least.

“Fire and spit,” he cursed softly, shaking his head, “four of our best friends in one room, and none of them could tell you were hurting.”

Aloy swallowed the lump in her throat. Her hand tightened over his, and he stroked her knuckles with his thumb. “It must've been hard for you, too.”

“It was,” he said plainly. Mother, how she had missed his directness. “I couldn’t see you, or tell you that I was here, and that I was listening. I couldn’t hold you when you needed me, no matter how much I wanted to. But, there was one thing.”

“What was that?” She asked. His eyes dropped back to her middle.

“I knew what this felt like,” he murmured, his fingers spread on her tummy. He could probably feel the hiccuping and the squirming going on inside her almost as well as she could, and she felt relief flooding her; all of her efforts hadn't been for nothing. Her hope - her belief - that he could feel the baby moving and that it might help him wake up hadn't been foolish.

“Are you okay?” Erend asked. Aloy wiped the tears from her cheeks and gave him a wobbly smile, and his brow wrinkled, “you look exhausted.”

Part of her wanted to be offended, but the other part knew he was just being sincere, and having someone care about her without it making her feel stifled and crowded felt like a miracle.

“I've been exhausted for about three months, sweetie,” she said dryly.

On wobbly limbs, Erend shifted himself to the side. “Lie with me,” he said, too gentle to be an order.

“What about our walk?”

“The village isn't going anywhere,” he replied. She couldn't really argue with that; now that he had pointed it out, she felt far too tired for a walk anyway. Aloy arranged herself beside him, her back to his chest, and his arm wrapped securely around her. He pressed his lips to her neck and her shoulder, and then pressed his nose in behind her ear.

“Sleep,” he said, soothingly, “I'm here; I've got you.”

Aloy couldn't help it. She cried again, for the third time that day. The difference was that this time, Erend was the one to console her, with comforting words and a body that was still strong despite being unused for months. The rest that Aloy got that afternoon, squeezed into a tiny bed with the rain hammering on the roof and her mate breathing steadily behind her, was the best she had had since before Dervahl had been camped out on their doorstep.

-------

“How was work, sweetie?” Aloy asked from the doorway. Erend had his back to her while he worked the laces on his boots.

“Long, and hot,” Erend grumbled, finally getting his boots off and dropping them to the floor with a loud clunk, “kids and petty crime, mostly. How about you? How was your-”

He turned to face her and his sentence stopped head in its tracks. His eyes followed the lines of her body up from the floor, as slow as molasses, lingering on the roundness of her belly and the swell of her breasts. She felt her body react under the heat of his gaze and she shifted, the silk of her wrap slipping across her skin as she did. It barely covered her, clinging everywhere, and she could plainly see the effect it was having on him. His eyes were wide as a Watcher’s, and his mouth practically hung open. It looked like his brain had completely short-circuited.

Aloy fought her self-satisfied grin off of her face and tilted her head coyly at him.

“Upstairs?” She suggested. Erend nodded dumbly.

---

It was late. The moon was high in the sky and the city was quiet, for the most part, while it's inhabitants slept.

Well, most of the inhabitants.

“Aloy,” Erend said quietly, nudging her, “don't fall asleep just yet.”

Aloy was in bed, propped up against the headboard, dozing lightly. In her arms was their week-old baby, who was somehow managing to nurse and wriggle around at the same time. Erend supported him with his hand under the baby's back, using the other to give Aloy's shoulder a gentle shake.

“Come on, moonflower, wake up.”

Aloy stirred, her eyes falling open as fast as they had shut. “Sorry,” she mumbled slowly, “can you take over?”

Erend glanced down at their son, who was still latched onto her nipple.

“Uh, don't think I can, actually,”

Aloy had already dozed off again. Her arms slackened and the baby started to fuss, and when it became clear that Aloy was dead to the world until she had gotten some more sleep, Erend eased the baby away from her.

“I know, I know,” he hushed as his son squirmed, his tiny fists waving in the air and his eyes scrunched up. Erend settled the baby against his shoulder, and the baby's tiny pink mouth opened wide, ready to start bawling. In a practised move, Erend quickly guided his son’s little fist into his mouth, giving him something to suck on instead. “Let's let mom sleep a while.”

The baby seemed to think about it for a moment, before starting to suck contentedly on his fist. Erend exhaled a breath he hadn't known he was holding; experience said it was fifty-fifty whether or not the baby had had his fill and would accept anything less than Aloy's breast.

Erend supported his son with one hand and started to nudge Aloy with the other again, coaxing her back under the covers so that she wouldn't wake with a crick in her neck. When he looked back his son was still sucking on his fist, and his eyes were wide open, staring right back.

Ever since the first time Erend had held his son, he had been completely mesmerised. For how long Aloy had been pregnant, and for how long she had been in labour, he seemed ever so small to Erend. The first time they had touched, skin to skin, the baby had wrapped his hand tight around Erend's thumb, his small fingers not even meeting. The baby had opened his wide, dark blue eyes and stared right up at him. Erend had cried.

Every time his son's wide eyes had fixed in his direction since, Erend felt himself fill with pride and love, and that night was no exception. He smiled widely.

“Hey,” he cooed, “hey buddy.”

The baby continued to suck his fist and watch Erend watch him. He inhaled through his nose, his lungs expanding all the way, and huffed it all out again in one rush. Erend's grin felt like it would split his face in half.

“Such a big breath,” he praised softly, “didn't mom do a good job making you?”

Beside him in the bed, Aloy started to stir and mumble, and Erend held perfectly still. She had been exhausted for the last month or two of her pregnancy, and the three days she had spent in labour had completely wiped her out. A week had already passed, but Erend still didn't want to disturb her more than was necessary.

“Whaddaya say we take a midnight stroll, buddy?” Erend said, climbing carefully off of the bed. The baby blinked at him a few times, which he took to mean ‘good idea, dad!’, and he started to wrap the baby up in his warmer clothes. Meridian was a hot city, but the nights still carried a chill, and Erend didn't know if they'd be gone for five minutes or fifty.

He left Aloy a quick note - they'd probably be back long before she got the chance to read it, but just in case - and carried his son out into the cool Meridian night.

Why the baby found these nightly excursions soothing and sleep-inducing was beyond him. Erend always ended up checking on the night guard and getting given more work to do in the morning, or they would come across some rowdy drunks that he had to quickly steer clear of, and the baby would sleep through it like it was nothing. Maybe it was down to how the last few days of Aloy's pregnancy had gone. She had been incredibly uncomfortable and restless, and she and Erend had made this same walk a few times to help her get to sleep. They had even done it one last time after her contractions had started, just to get things moving a little bit quicker, though that actually hadn't worked in the end.

On his shoulder, the baby yawned widely. It looked like this walk wouldn't be lasting long.

Erend took them to the nearest Vanguard posts anyway. A week of doing so had still not worn off the novelty of getting to show his son off to anyone and everyone, and he thoroughly enjoyed watching his soldiers - men and women in full armour - fuss over the baby.

As usual, he got a lot of teasing from the Vanguard due to his son not having a name, yet. The Oseram way of naming a baby immediately after birth couldn't be further from the Nora tradition of waiting six whole months. He had honestly been surprised when Aloy had told him she wanted to stick to the Nora naming conventions, at least for their first child (the implications of which had him reeling), but she hadn't elaborated on why she wanted to do it, and after having watched her labouring away for three full days, he didn't feel like he wanted to argue. Even if it did cause his men to tease him.

After a few minutes, however, the baby started to squirm and wriggle, and clumsily turn his head from side to side. Erend quickly bid the men goodnight and made a beeline back for his apartment, bouncing the baby the whole way in an effort to settle him again. He hadn't succeeded, and his son was wailing by the time he made it back to the house, his face redder than forgefire.

Aloy was already sat up in bed when he walked back into their room. Her hair was a mess, and she was clearly exhausted, but she was smiling fondly, and she reached her arms out for the baby and he felt like he was falling in love with her all over again. Reverently, he passed her his precious cargo, stealing a kiss for himself as he did so, and feeling her grin against his lips. Aloy arranged the baby across her tummy, bringing him to nurse, and immediately the crying was replaced with a suckling-snuffling noise that Erend secretly loved more than anything.

“My hero,” Erend murmured into her warm skin, as he pressed soft kisses along her jaw and nuzzled the crook of her neck.

“Someone had to do something. You were waking the whole street.”

Erend huffed. “Blame your son for not knowing how hungry he was.”

#hzd #horizon zero dawn #ereloy #aloy/erend #after the shadows pass #hzdfic

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atelierheidi · 8 years ago

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How to Make Zelda’s Pauldrons out of Leather

Photo by Mindfall Media

Here’s an overview of the techniques that went into making these Zelda pauldrons! Although this tutorial doesn’t hold your hand through every step, I wanted to give enough information that a curious reader could easily do more research on their own. If you’d like to know more about leather work, try searching for any of the keywords in these steps to find way more detailed resources on how to apply these methods to your own projects.

Keep reading below for more info!

Patterns & Mock-ups

Veg-tanned leather can be manipulated and formed over other objects through a process called wet-molding. Before even touching my materials, I found an object that was very similar in shape and size to the lower portion of Zelda’s pauldron. For me, this happened to be a bedroom lamp, but you can use whatever object suits your needs.

The lamp is slightly larger than my shoulder, and flares out at the bottom in the same way I wanted the edge of Zelda’s pauldron to flare out. This makes it a great candidate to use as a wet-molding buck (aka, the base form for my leather).

The mock-up pictured on the right is the result of wet-molding leather over the lamp (I’ll go into more detail on that later). Once I had a prototype in my hands, I started drawing on the general shape and details, and trimming away the extra material to fit it to my shoulder.

I used paper and foam make a mock-up of the top piece, fitting it over the bottom piece and making adjustments to both.

When I was happy with my full mock-up, I translated it back into a 2D pattern by flattening out the leather and tracing it onto paper. This allowed me to clean up my lines, make everything symmetrical, and refine the shapes. I made a second foam mock-up based on this pattern to double-check that it could be molded back into the exact 3D shape I was aiming for. It passed the test, so I turned my attention to patterning the surface details.

Using a variety of reference images, I drew all of the design details by hand onto my flat pattern. I then scanned the images and traced them digitally, cleaning up my lines to create a final pattern. Here’s part of it below (I cut this on my Silhouette Cameo 3, but you can cut it by hand if you have to).

My digital pattern for this pauldron (and the rest of Zelda’s accessories!) is for sale at my store here: http://atelierheidi.tictail.com/product/zelda-accessories-pattern-pack-digital-download

If you’re using this walkthrough to make identical pauldrons, please consider supporting my work and teaching by purchasing a copy of my pattern.

Cutting & Tooling the Leather

I traced my final pattern onto 8-9 oz veg-tanned leather and cut out the pieces with a normal utility knife.

In the above image, the edges of the leather have been beveled on both the top and bottom with an edge beveling tool in Size 3. This tool helps round off leather edges for a cleaner finish. I also began going over my traced design (in silver here) with a swivel knife. This tool scores the surface of the leather without cutting all the way through it. It can be tricky to get the hang of, so make sure you practice first before cutting into your final pieces. Any accidental cuts cannot be repaired.

After all the swivel knife cuts were made, I used beveler stamps in a few different sizes to create deeper impressions. A beveler stamp pushes down the leather on one side of the cut, making the opposite side look like a raised edge. The exact stamps I used were Craftool B197, B203, and B935, all purchased from Tandy Leather. In the above image, the left piece has been cut with a swivel knife, and the right piece has been both cut and beveled.

This type of tooling also requires a mallet (mine is rawhide; other materials are fine), water (from a spray bottle or sponge), and a stone slab (quartz, granite, marble, etc) to use as a work surface.

The stone slab provides shock absorption as you hit your leather piece with a stamp/mallet. It helps muffle the hammering noise and prevents other items on your table from bouncing around as you work. I’m also using a rubber poundo board here in this image, but that’s optional. Also pictured is a tiny metal jewelry anvil that I’m using as a weight to hold the leather in place while I work, allowing both my hands to be free. You can use almost any small, heavy object for this purpose.

Water helps the leather permanently take on surface impressions. I used a small cup and a sponge to apply water in small sections as I worked.

In the above image, the left piece has plain beveled tooling. The right piece has been tooled with a background stamp to add extra surface texture. This smooths out some of the lumpier sections and creates more depth and detail. The exact stamps I used for this step were Craftool A104, A114, and F901 (again, purchased from Tandy.)

Wet-molding

With my tooling complete, I moved on to forming my flat leather pieces into the 3D shapes I needed. This brings us back to my trusty lamp.

Left: my badass lamp. Middle: Wet leather piece stretched over the lamp and wrapped tightly with gauze fabric. Right: Now dry, the leather holds its new shape on its own.

The more water you apply to veg-tanned leather, the more malleable it becomes. When tooling, you generally only need to apply a small amount of water to the leather’s surface. When wet-molding, you can apply as much water as needed to manipulate it into a new shape. For this pauldron, I held the leather under a faucet and let water run across the entire surface of the front and back. You could go as far as soaking the leather if necessary, but it’s better to start with a little and go up from there. I also recommend removing any rings or other jewelry from your hands, which can very easily scratch the surface of the leather when it is this wet! Be very careful handling it at this stage, especially if you have long fingernails.

After wetting the leather, I pressed it against the body of the lamp and used both hands to smooth it outward from the center. This gradually stretches the leather and molds it around the curved surface of the lamp. Continue working it until you have manipulated it into the shape you need.

You’ll need to devise a method of holding the leather firmly in place while it dries. Depending on your project, there are many viable solutions. In this example, I used a long strip of 100% cotton gauze fabric to tightly wrap the leather against the lamp. The fabric choice is important; cotton gauze is highly breathable, so the water can easily pass through it and evaporate. The fabric evenly distributes pressure across the entire surface of the leather, so that it doesn’t leave marks in the tooled surface. Keep in mind that if you strap it down only around the edges (such as with string or rubber bands) it would most likely leave a permanent indention in that spot.

After leaving it to dry overnight, I unwrapped the gauze to reveal my newly reshaped leather.

I purchased blue acrylic gems from All Star Co to use in this project. I measured and cut a window that was slightly smaller than the gem, then wet-molded the leather to create a raised lip around the edges of the gem.

Finishing & Assembly

Before painting and assembling, I used gum tragacanth and an edge slicker to burnish the edges of all of my leather pieces. This is a process of compressing and polishing the rough leather edge into a smooth, hard surface.

I assembled the pieces by stitching them together, hiding the seam along the borders of the top piece. Each stitch hole is punched by hand using a stitching chisel. I then sewed it together using waxed thread and two blunt-tipped needles. The stitch I used is called a saddle stitch, in which the thread passes through each hole twice in a double-helix shape.

The base coat for this gold color was Leather Studio’s gold paint. I then used Angelus bronze paint and several washes of watered down acrylic paint to add shadows and weathering to the paint job. Jacquard Lumiere is another line of excellent metallic leather paints.

After sealing the paint job with Saddle Lac and installing my gems, these pauldrons were ready to go.

My final Zelda costume, debuted at Katsucon 2017. Photo by Mindfall Media.

If you have any simple questions about the information in this post -- such as where to buy materials, definitions of terms, or how a tool is used -- I invite you to please use Google to your advantage. The internet is brimming with tutorials that cover each of these steps in greater detail. If you have specific questions about my personal decision-making process, you can direct those to my inbox here on tumblr. (I’m more likely to respond to questions that are not asked anonymously, just because I can answer them privately)

This tutorial is not meant to be a comprehensive guide to beginner leatherwork, but I hope it gave you some insight into how a leather armor project comes together.

For live demonstrations of these techniques, check out my YouTube or Twitch channel! I do educational livestreams twice a week where I show and explain various techniques of costume construction. Tune in at: https://www.twitch.tv/atelierheidi

For a digital copy of all of my Zelda patterns, check out my store: http://atelierheidi.tictail.com/products/patterns

If you found this post to be helpful, please consider sharing it! Thanks for reading and good luck with all your leather endeavors.

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