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uwusenpaiuwu · 3 years ago

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Baji Being A Menace To Society (And Your Relationship) 2.0

Sequel to: Baji A.K.A. The Worst (Best) Matchmaker

Summary: Baji’s at it again, acting out-of-pocket and creating chaos for absolutely no reason, other than to see you suffer. In his own Baji-esque way, of course.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Warning(s): Boku no Pico is mentioned, but there is absolutely nothing graphic; mentions of masturbation

Note(s): I am so sorry if it isn’t funny. Sadly, I am but an amateur writer, not a comedian. Still, I hope you all enjoy! ^^

"(Y/n), want some ice cream? My treat."

Usually, you'd be the first to jump at an offer for a sweet treat, especially when you don't have to pay. However, as of now, the word 'ice cream,' when said by Baji, instantly triggers your fight-or flight-response. Paired with the fact that he’s broke as hell, your suspicions only increase for the sudden indulgence.

Since you know you're no match for the long-haired menace, your body automatically prepares to flee, legs twitching to lurch into a sprint. Unfortunately for you, just before you can get the fuck out of there, your hand is being grabbed by Mikey, who leisurely begins to tug you along to claim your dessert.

“You like ice cream, right?” he turns to ask, eyes unbelievably soft when looking at you.

And because you’re weak for him, all you can do is nod stiffly, trading in your sanity for the pleased grin that spreads across his face, his confident strides thereafter likely a result of him successfully remembering another miscellaneous fact about you, as has been the case since you officially started dating him. From the most trivial of things, like which brand of pens and pencils you prefer, to the slightly more important stuff, like ice cream being one of your favorite desserts; he’s made the effort of remembering them all.

He really doesn’t need to do any of that, ‘cause you’ll love him either way, but the conscious decision to do so is what makes you love him even more.

Zoning back into reality, you shake your head to reorient yourself. It isn’t the time to be going over the reasons why you’re such a lovesick puppy.

No, there are other things to worry about, mainly Baji.

You squeeze Mikey’s hand as you’re led to the nearest ice cream parlor to try and calm yourself. It works for the most part, especially when you get a reassuring squeeze back.

‘Right,’ you tell yourself, ‘it’s going to be okay.’

After all, Baji wouldn’t do anything too drastic, right?

~~~

You were wrong. So, so wrong.

Despite nothing having transpired yet, every alarm in your head is going off, pounding at the door of reason to get you to wake up and realize that it’s Baji you’re talking about, the same person that sets cars on fire when hungry and punches the first unfortunate soul he passes by on the street when sleepy.

You really should’ve listened to your survival instincts and ran. Alas, it’s much too late to escape, leaving you to wallow in your anxiety, while you wait for misfortune to strike.

And strike it does.

“Please, don’t sit next to me. You make me nauseous.”

“That’s cruel. I bought you ice cream, and you treat me like this?”

Yeah, he may have bought it, but you refuse to eat it because of how intensely Baji is staring at you. Fucking weirdo.

"Oh, do you want some of mine instead, (Y/n)?" Baji accentuates his question with a sensual lick to his ice cream from the edge of the cone to the finessed peak, making you extremely uncomfortable as he stares you down with the full motion.

As slowly as he licks his frozen treat do you slowly raise your middle finger, eliciting chuckles from the other occupants of the table.

You think you won that mini battle, though?

Ha! Nope.

Baji mirrors the vulgar action, not once breaking eye contact as he dips the tip of his finger directly into his ice cream, pulls it out, and proceeds to lick that, too.

Disgusted, you promptly avert your attention elsewhere, praying that Baji won’t continue being, well, himself.

Your prayers fall on deaf ears.

"It's cold!" As soon as the exclamation leaves your mouth, your blood runs glacial, knowing that you've unintentionally played into Baji's trap. The appearance of a sly, almost feral, smirk when you whip your head around to glare confirms what you already know.

The curtain has risen, and you’re standing center stage in a performance you can’t break free from.

"Aw, can't let it go to waste,” Baji continues, reaching over to scoop the ice cream you’re 100% certain he purposely spilled on the front of your shirt, with his fingers.

Then, to your horror and everyone else’s shock, he asks, without an ounce of virtue to his name, "Want me to lick it off with my mouth?"

Chifuyu is seated on the other side of the table, hiding his face in his hands. “Baji-san...”

"It'll stain if it dries like that." Dear God, how you wish to un-see Baji batting his eyelashes at you.

“I don’t care!” At this point, you’ve resorted to clumsily scooting your chair as far away from him as possible, which isn’t actually as far as you’d like considering your surroundings. Hell, so long as you put some distance between yourself and the crazy bastard that wants to see you suffer, you don’t mind having to force yourself halfway onto Mikey’s lap. (The firm hand that keeps you steady by the waist proves that your presence isn’t unwanted either.)

"Geez, (Y/n), you're such a scatterbrain."

Seeing Baji sell the line with a slow tugging of his hair behind the ear has you torn between laughing and dying a little more. Truthfully, his acting is frighteningly impressive, and you would’ve applauded his performance, if not for the fact that the role he’s playing still haunts your dreams.

By this time, most of who accompanied you to the ice cream parlor have figured out what kind of drugs Baji is on this time, which also means that those fuckers have seen, or are at least aware of, the cursed trilogy of questionable porn that’s being reenacted before their eyes, with you as an unwilling co-star. Those that are puzzled as to why people are shoving their fists in their mouths to refrain from laughing are obviously God’s favorites.

“The fuck is going on? I wanna laugh at Baji’s dumbassery, too.”

“Pah-chin... I think it’s best you don’t know.”

Interestingly enough, the one you’re most concerned about hasn’t said anything yet, splitting his attention between observing the scene unfolding and eating his portion of a deluxe sundae.

Then, out of nowhere-

“I understand.”

You and Baji freeze where you are, each of you grasping the other’s collar, you to shove him away, and him to draw you closer.

“(Y/n),” Mikey says, your name rolling silkily off his tongue in a tone much too fond for his next words, “if you like roleplay, just tell me.”

...

“Huh?”

“I’m fine with pissing, remember? So, roleplay shouldn’t be a problem.”

Heat rises to your face at an alarming pace, and it continues to climb as Mikey takes your free hand in his, which serves not to comfort but to unintentionally remind you of the humiliating experience from a few months back. And just when you convinced him that you didn’t want anything to do with getting freaky with the body’s excreta, too.

“You’ve got it wrong! I don’t- arfghfgh?!”

Your prayer to help cool down your flushed cheeks must have been heard, but you’re pretty damn sure you didn’t ask for Baji to shove his ice cream in your mouth!

“Oh, yeah. (Y/n)’s a fuckin’ geek when it comes to roleplay,” the unhinged bastard speaks in your stead, indifferent to the nails clawing at his hand clamped over your mouth. “You should try it with him. We were doing a scene from his favorite anime.”

Mikey tilts his head, interest positively piqued. “Which one is that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, leader?”

Mikey raises an eyebrow.

Baji opens his mouth.

You lunge.

It’s a series of events that happens in the blink of an eye and ends with loud crashing as you tackle Baji to the ground.

“Listen up, Baji Keisuke. We took an oath that day, and if you dare utter a word of what went down, I’ll consider that a breach of the code of secrecy and take you down, making sure you drown in a pit of your own shame and despair.”

Surprised to have been pinned down so quickly, it takes a while for Baji’s brain to catch up, but when it does, he’s frustratingly unfazed at the threat.

“Oho~ How scary. Too bad for you, I have no shame.”

“Not even if I tell Mama Baji where your porn stash is?”

That has the great Baji tensing up.

“You wouldn’t dare use an underhanded tactic like that.”

Your lips turn into a wicked grin. “Are you sure? I have as much dirt on you as you have on me, and like you, I won’t hesitate to use it to my advantage.”

If your grin is wicked, Baji’s is downright evil, showing off his sharp, gritted canines and all.

“You got balls, (Y/n),” he snarls, “but mine are bigger.”

The boy beneath you opens his mouth, and faster than you can stop him, he just...does it.

“(Y/n) (L/n) watched Boku no Pico and liked it!”

Silence.

Silence is all that’s heard for a good, long minute following the booming roar of the revelation.

You dare not look up to gauge everyone’s reactions, instead keeping your icy glare fixated on Baji, who looks smug as shit for having caused the glorious eruption of heat to spread like wildfire across your entire body, from the tips of your ears down to where your skin disappears under the collar of your jacket.

This...

This is war.

Taking in a deep breath, you answer his uncalled for declaration with your own thunderous shout of, “Baji watched Boku no Pico and jacked off to it! Twice!”

Baji laughs. “Oh, pray tell, saintly (Y/n), how many times did you jack off to it?”

“None of your fucking business, asshole.”

“Pretty fucking sure it is, since we were in the same room.”

Someone chokes, while you choke Baji.

“We. Swore. To. Secrecy. You. Asshole,” you practically growl, with each of your words accompanied by a ruthless back-and-forth shaking of the other boy’s person.

“Let up on the choking, dude. I’m not into that. You, however-”

Unable to take the ceaseless slander to your name anymore, you reel your fist back, but, upon seeing Baji’s cheek turned to you, jaw jutted out, as if inviting you to take your best shot, you hesitate. You know you wouldn’t be able to pack enough of a punch to actually leave an impact on him, which is terribly upsetting.

On the bright side, there’s still one tactic you can use that’ll be just as effective, a technique courtesy of your health teacher, who happily taught it to the class to use in case of an emergency.

Technically, it’s meant to be used to assess a person’s level of consciousness, but you suppose it can be used to get back at inconsiderate idiots, too.

“Ow! Ow! What the fuc-! Ow!”

You keep a straight face as you continue to rub your knuckles against his sternum, fully intent on delivering the worst possible pain to the current bane of your existence. It brings a sort of sadistic satisfaction to hear the ever prideful Baji’s screams of pain, and while it doesn’t completely undo the damage done, it does help soothe your wounded self-esteem.

“You want me stop? Beg for it.”

“Pissing, roleplay, choking, and begging? Goddam- OW!”

Your reign of terror comes to its untimely end when you’re lifted up into the air by the armpits, and through the haze of your power trip, you realize that Baji’s saving grace is Draken, who proceeds to carry you out of the parlor with ease.

“People are staring,” he coolly explains when you protest to having unfinished business.

Pouting, you cross your arms over your chest. “It’s his fault.”

Once outside, Draken doesn’t immediately put you back on your feet, until Mikey strolls out of the parlor. Only when the gang leader has his arms outstretched to you are you promptly deposited on the ground and taken into his embrace.

“Are you done letting off some steam?” is the first thing he asks you. Even though you can’t see his expression, the way he holds you and the way he cradles the back of your head, handling you with the utmost care, is indication enough that there will be no reprimand for, essentially, assaulting your division commander. (You would argue that it was an act of self defense against verbal harassment, but whatever.)

There’s just an overwhelming amount of love. So, so, so much love for each other.

“Yeah, I am,” you eventually answer, followed by a content sigh.

“Good.”

Naturally, that’s the perfect time for the tinkling of the bells above the parlor door to pilfer your attention. Baji’s appearance causes your face to morph into a scowl.

You cling tighter to Mikey, peeking over his shoulder to flip the ravenet off and mouth, ‘Go to Hell.’

As always, Baji answers your attempt to appear opposing with an obnoxious smirk.

‘See you there.’

~~~

“Boku no Pico, huh?”

“Draken, don’t laugh! Baji forced me to watch it!”

“All 3 episodes?”

“Twice.”

“...”

“Favorite scene...?”

“As if I’d have one.”

"Actually-"

“Ahh! Shut up! Why are you here, stupid Baji?! You live in the other direction!”

~~~

“Hey, (Y/n). Want to try doing the same thing with me?”

You look up, perplexed. Mikey literally just walked into the room, and that was the first thing he said to you.

“Do wha-?”

Your breath catches in your throat when you turn your head, only for you to come centimeters from bumping noses with him. And because he can, he lovingly knocks your foreheads together, too.

“It’s okay. I promise it’ll definitely be fun.”

You should feel ashamed for recognizing the same sequence of lines from Boku no Pico so quickly, though any coherent words are overtaken by an incomprehensible, high-pitched screech, a feat achieved solely by a teenage boy going through puberty.

A combination of shock and amusement crosses over Mikey’s features then. He’s never heard you make that sound before.

It’s cute. Strains the ears quite a bit, but cute.

While Draken lurks beside him, questioning Mikey’s standards of what constitutes as ‘cute,’ you’re sprinting across the room, red-faced, to Baji, who’s already grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Stop tainting my boyfriend, you piece of shit! Give him back his innocence!”

(Unbeknownst to you, whilst immersed in your fit of hysterics, your use of the word ‘boyfriend’ has a certain blond beaming.

“Did you hear that, Ken-chin? He called me his boyfriend.”

“Wow, congrats.”

Mikey either doesn’t give a shit or is simply too smitten to acknowledge Draken’s apathetic response.)

Baji blinks, unable to believe what you’re trying to insinuate. “Innocent? That little gremlin motherfucker?”

Both of you look in Mikey’s direction. When he sees you staring, he breaks out in a smile and throws a wave.

Your heart involuntarily skips a beat at the sight, and, okay, you’re convinced. Mikey deserves better than knowing of that cursed series’ existence.

Clearly, you’re down bad for Toman’s leader, and as such, Baji figures he can use that to quench his boredom for the day.

“Ooh, if only you knew what he gets off to.”

The tone in his voice instantly rouses suspicion. You narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t care what kind of porn he gets off to.”

“Porn? Nah, ya silly goose-”

“Don’t call me that.”

Baji ignores your comment as he moves to sling one arm around your shoulders, the other raising up to mimic an obscene tugging motion that no teenage boy is a stranger to.

“He jerks it to yo-”

BAM!

One second, Baji is lazily hanging off of your person, the next, he’s sprawled out on the floor, face down, and groaning in pain. You expect nothing less after witnessing him receive a rather impressive flying kick to the chest from Mikey.

Before you can assess the full damage, your view gets obscured by a pair of keys.

“Wanna take my bike out for a spin?”

Yes, you know Mikey is trying to divert your attention from whatever Baji was going to say, and, yes, you probably should check on the figure that has yet to get up.

But do you really care?

You take one glance at Baji’s concerningly unmoving body and quickly come to a conclusion.

You do not.

That being said, you quite literally drag Mikey and, by extension, Draken out of there, chanting an excited, “Let’s go!” on your way, abandoning Baji to wither on the ground.

Baji?

Baji feels betrayed.

~~~

"Chifuyu?”

“Hm?”

“Y’know, I was joking.” Baji flips onto his back with a grunt. “Man, who knew Mikey was all grown up?”

The vice captain of the first division hums, seemingly uninterested in his commander’s musings.

It goes quiet for a few minutes, the sole instigator of noise being Chifuyu flipping the pages of his manga.

Unpredictable is Baji, and the same goes for his train of thought.

“I should punch Mikey for kicking me.”

“No, you’d get beat up.”

“...”

“I should punch (Y/n) for Mikey kicking me.”

Truly, unpredictable and senseless.

“You’d still get beat up.”

Baji opens his mouth to argue.

“By Mikey.”

He promptly closes it.

“Fuck it. I’ll keep spicing up their relationship as payback.”

Sighing, Chifuyu closes his book to crouch down next to him. “Baji-san, with all due respect, you’re an asshole.”

Baji Keisuke has experienced betrayal twice today.

And he deserved it both times.

#mikey x male reader #sano manjiro x male reader #sano manjirou x male reader #mikey x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers x reader #Tokyo Revengers #Sano Manjirou #sano manjiro #manjiro sano #manjirou sano #i tried #im so sorry #pls dont cancel me #PSA: don't masturbate in the same room as baji

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kiwi-bitchez · 5 years ago

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You Can Bet On It

Summary: Your roommate drags you out to the club where she beets a tall, blonde, handsome brit. You hand back at the bar and happen to meet his roommate.

Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: smutttt, a little rough, spanking and light choking, use of vibrator, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 8k (got a little carried away with this one...)

Oh god, what is that horrible squeaking sound?

You are ripped from your trance to realize that the irritating noise was coming from you. Your bad habit of scratching off beer labels when you are nervous was starting to show, as your nail had worn completely through the thin paper, and had been obnoxiously rubbing into the glass.

You had zoned out, letting your eyes land on the ground and drift out of focus, clearing your head for a moment or five. Bars weren’t your favorite place. Scratch that, this kind of bar wasn’t your favorite place. Watered down liquor, slurred speech, thumping music, and people who were drunk enough not to care that they were practically having sex in public.

One of those people being your roommate Madison. You loved her, but god you couldn’t be more different. She is wild, sparkly, loud, fun. You’re…not. Your squeaking had pulled your focus back up to the dancefloor of the club where she was swaying her body back and forth with some tall blonde stranger.

You had to give it to her, she had a way with men at bars. Barely even setting her stuff down before someone buys her a drink, uses a line, offers to dance. This was Madison’s cup of tea, or tequila rather. She loves getting dressed up and going out to the busiest clubs, finding some handsome stranger to whisk her away for a night.

You didn’t judge her, not at all. You actually found yourself jealous of her, wishing you had that kind of confidence. She had tried to help you on many occasions, being your self-proclaimed wing-woman and trying to help you pick up guys at bars, but you could never quite get the hang of the awkward small talk and rushed physical intimacy.

You did, on occasions like this, let her drag you out with her. It kept her off your back about being “antisocial” and a “hermit,” and you liked keeping an eye out for her, making sure no one was trying to take advantage. Not that she couldn’t take care of herself, Madison would snap if anyone tried to pull anything, but a more sober pair of eyes never hurts.

You had managed to grab a seat at the bar, facing outward to observe the bustling crowd. People-watching could sometimes prove to be an interesting way to pass the time, and truthfully you’d rather observe than interact most of the time. A few people had started conversations with you at the bar, and you weren’t a bitch or anything, you just clearly gave off the vibe that you weren’t interested in being bought some fruity cocktail and wooed onto the dancefloor.

Madison had her back pressed against the guy she was dancing with, his hands on her hips. The song was ending, and she made eye contact with you, nodding her head not-so-subtly towards the bathroom, signaling to you that she wanted to talk. Laughing to yourself at how un-smooth, yet totally smooth she managed to be at the same time.

“What’s up girl,” you ask as she pulls you into one of the single stall bathrooms.

“Y/N,” she grabs your shoulders, “he’s BRITISH.”

“Who?” you ask before registering that she was probably talking about that boy she had been grinding on.

“His name is Harrison, and he’s BRITISH, got the accent and everything,” she pressed her back up to the wall, pretending to fan herself off.

“Damn, going international now?” you joke, twiddling with the bottle in your hand.

“So, I need you to check him out, get a vibe, and let me know what you think,” she locks eyes with you, trying to be serious, unable to keep a few giggles from slipping out.

“I saw you two dancing, he’s definitely really good looking,” you tell her. She would always do this, try to make you feel involved, ask your opinion about the guy she was flirting with. She said she always wants your truthful opinion, but she always got the hottest guy at the place no matter where she was, so there wasn’t much for you to tell.

“Ugh, I’m totally gonna fuck him. Should I? I’m going to. I HAVE to. He’s British, and I can’t pass up an opportunity like that,” she was definitely talking to herself at this point.

You turn her towards the mirror, help her fluff her hair, straighten her dress, and give her some words of encouragement.

“You are hot. You are amazing. And you are going to have amazing hot sex with British Harrison,” you chant to her in the mirror, encouraging her to say it back to herself. Not that she needed the encouragement, but these little rituals you had in club bathrooms were always funny and sweet, it was one of the reasons you didn’t mind going out with her. You appreciated that she liked having your opinion, having someone she trusted around.

“Go get ‘em tiger,” you give her butt a tap as she exits the bathroom and shuffles back out onto the dancefloor, finding her man right where she had left him.

Your seat at the bar had been stolen, but you spotted an empty area over by a wall, somewhere you could comfortably stand and wait until Madison left with her suitor. Deciding to order another drink, something a little stronger than the beer you had been nursing, you make your way over to the bar.

Forearms leaning against the hard surface, you poke your head forward trying to get the bartender’s attention. She walks over, but immediately starts chatting up the guy standing next to you. Typical. If she pushed her boobs up a little bit he would probably leave a fat tip, so you couldn’t blame her.

You shift your eyes over to get a look at the guy next to you as he orders his gin and tonic, all you could see were his toned forearms and a glimpse of his profile. Not bad. You understood why the bartender was so eager to ignore you. She eventually stops fake laughing at his order, because what the fuck is funny about a gin and tonic, and looks your way.

“I’ll just have the same,” you say quickly, wanting to get out of there quickly and claim your spot by the wall.

“Are you copying me, love?” the stranger asks, leaning his bodyweight against the bar in the same position as you, “is that your move? Order the same drink to chat me up?”

“What’s your move, love” you quickly quip back, “being a dick to girls at the bar and hoping they’re into that?”

“You just didn’t strike me as a G and T type of girl, that’s all,” he puts his hands up defensively.

“Hmmm I see, be a dick and then tell me what kind of girl I seem like.”

You finally turn to him, allowing yourself to make eye contact. You hoped that he wasn’t taking your banter the wrong way, you weren’t trying to be nasty, you just found yourself in a particular mood.

He opened his mouth to say something back to you, but you cut him off before he could. In the two seconds you had made eye contact, you had realized that the stranger you were having your little back and forth with had an accent. A British accent.

“Are you here with that guy?” you gesture over to Madison on the dancefloor, “tall, blonde, striking blue eyes. English.”

“Harrison? Yeah, he’s my mate. If you’re interested in him you should probably have made your move a while ago, because he seems a bit occupied,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, occupied with my roommate,” you laugh back.

“Ah, I see,” he takes the two drinks from the bartender, handing you yours.

“Is he a good guy?” you ask, not sure why this man would tell you otherwise, “he’s not going to like, tie her up and murder her or anything like that?”

“Harrison? Nah, good guy, decent guy. He might tie her up, but he definitely won’t murder her.”

“Ha ha,” you sarcastically respond, “just looking out for my friend.”

“Why do you ask? You think they’ll go home together?” he asks.

“Oh, most definitely,” you tell him, “she dragged me into the bathroom a minute ago to gush about how she’s about to fuck a British guy.”

“Haz is a bit of a slag, so that won’t be too hard on her part.”

“Yeah, I see they are already well acquainted,” you turn to see Madison’s tongue down his throat. This night may be ending quicker than you had anticipated.

“I’m Tom,” he pulls your attention away from the public displays of affection and back to where he was seated at the bar, an empty seat opening up next to him.

“Y/N,” you stick out the hand that wasn’t holding your drink.

“It’s weird that you shake hands,” he says as he takes your clammy hand into his, his grip tighter than you had expected.

You shrug and take a gulp of your drink, abandoning hope of claiming the spot by the wall and deciding to camp out here with this strange British boy until Madison goes on her merry way.

“So how do you know him,” you nod back to where Harrison and Madison are.

“Oh, Haz is my best mate, we go way, way back,” he leans on his arm again, giving you a good view of his biceps against his black t-shirt, “we live in South London, but we’re here in the States for the summer. Work stuff.”

“Oh, so you two live together?” he nods at your question while sipping his drink, “so we can be sad and lonely at the bar while our hot roommates get it on.”

“Wow, I’ve never been told I’m lousy company before,” his humor met yours, “and I even paid for your drink you copycat.”

“You didn’t,” you give him a stern look but he shrugs back, a mischievous grin creeping across his face.

“Is this your ploy,” you smack the side of his arm, “the two of you find girls at the bar to lure back to your fancy apartment to have a freaky foursome with or something like that?”

“Now who’s being a dick and assuming things,” he says through broken laughs.

“Although,” you draw out your words, “your friend is pretty hot, maybe I’ll just go home with them.”

“Haz most certainly would not be opposed to that,” he jokes back.

You gesture to the bartender to make two more, and to put them on your tab. Tom gives you a look, but you give him one right back.

“Now I don’t owe you anything,” you explain.

“Hey, I’m not like that,” he gets defensive again, “I’m not quite as sleazy as my friend over there.”

“I’m just trying to help you out,” you narrow your eyes, “you’re the one who’s going to have to put up with the two of them all night.” You gesture over towards Madison and Haz.

“Pardon,” he coughs as he downs the rest of his drink, getting ready for the next.

“Oh, you thought they would be going back to our apartment?” you laugh sarcastically, “no, no, absolutely not.”

“Are you being serious? Or are you fucking with me? Cuz I honestly can’t tell.”

“Oh, you’re going to wish I was fucking with you. By the way she’s looking at him, I’m gonna give them, I don’t know, three, four solid rounds,” you try to make an empathetic face but can’t help the grin that creeps onto your face, “and Madison’s a screamer.”

“Too much information, thank you,” Tom covers his ears.

“Hey, I’m just trying to give you a heads up,” you cackle.

“Who’s to say he can’t convince them to go back to yours. I bet it’s closer.”

“She’s good at getting what she wants, and she “doesn’t shit where she eats”,” you make air quotes around the phrase, “in whatever twisted way that means she doesn’t like to bring guys back to our apartment. Weird personal rule, but I don’t question it cuz I always get to sleep peacefully.”

“You wanna bet?” Tom suggests, clearly not having thought this through, “My boy Haz is a smooth talker, and it seems like she really likes him. I say you’re the unfortunate roommate who’s going to have to put up with all that.”

“You’re on,” you set your drink down, extending your hand to him for the second time that night, “what do I get when they go back to your place?”

“If they go back to mine, I’ll cover your tab and leave you alone. And when they go back to yours, you’ll agree to let me take you out sometime,” he shakes your hand with a cocky grin on his face.

“Doesn’t seem like much of a bet, either way you’re buying me a drink.” He was growing on you, the accent, the floppy brown hair, the dimples. You were still wary of meeting strangers at bars, but something about him seemed genuine.

The two of you flipped around in your bar stools and faced the dancefloor. You liked that he never asked you to dance. Most girls would be dying to dance with a guy like Tom, but you liked just sitting at the bar, shooting the shit and sipping your drinks.

“Okay, okay, here they come,” you whisper and jab your elbow into his side.

Madison and Harrison stumble off the dancefloor and make their way to your place at the bar.

“Hey mate,” Harrison slings an arm around Tom’s shoulder.

You tune out their conversation as you notice Madison making a ridiculous face at you, eyes practically bugging out of her head.

“THAT’S his roommate?” she mouths to you, gesturing to Tom. You nod, trying to signal to her to be more subtle.

“Y/n, what the fuck?” she continues to mouth words silently to you.

“What???” you mouth back, trying to not let Tom and Harrison notice this awkward side conversation you were having. Luckily, they were occupied by their own.

“He’s fucking HOT,” She starts to whisper, you scrunch up your face, trying to tell her to stop making a scene about it. She gets the hint, but proceeds to point to you, point to Tom, and then do the finger going in and out of the hole gesture.

You slap her hand down as she starts to laugh, “Jesus Madison, cut it out,” you whisper, “you two are going back to his?” you change the subject.

“Yeah, obviously,” she says a little louder, “sooo, perfect opportunity for you…”

“Chill out, please,” you bring your hand to your temple, knowing she was being anything but subtle and Tom had probably noticed by this point.

“I owe you big time,” Harrison says to Tom as he starts to back away, taking Madison under his arm, “I’m serious bro.”

“Yeah, yeah, be safe you two,” Tom swats the air towards Harrison and turns back towards the bar, burying his head into his hands.

“Ha ha,” you poke his side, “told you that was a bad bet to make.”

“Know any cheap hotels around here?” Tom asks, looking exasperated.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you look at him seriously, “he kicked you out for the whole night?”

“I offered,” Tom sighs, “he would do the same for me.”

“Damn, you’re a good friend. Certainly a better roommate than me,” you turn to him, trying to be sympathetic, “but honestly, you probably didn’t want to be present for any of that anyways.”

Tom gestures towards the bartender with his card, telling her to charge for both your bar tabs.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” you say.

“Hey, a bet is a bet, and now I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.”

You grab his arm as he starts to get up. Something inside of you told you to help him out, to not let him leave.

“It’s no Four Seasons, but I may know a place where you could kill a few hours,” you tell him, his eyes wide with excitement that you wanted to spend more time with him.

“You sure? It’s really no trouble…”

“Yeah, I’m sure, it’s only a few blocks from here.”

The two of you exit the loud club, only a few minutes behind Harrison and Madison. The stark contrast of the freezing outside air from the sweaty atmosphere of the club hits you. You take a few steps out onto the city sidewalk. Suddenly your feet buckle out underneath you and you are slipping backwards rapidly.

Tom quickly grabs you, one hand catching your shoulders and the other grabbing your hand, helping steady you. You gasp from the fall, but are grateful that you never hit the pavement.

“Hey, watch out for that patch of ice,” he jokes.

“Thank you,” you were a little flustered, both from falling and from being in his arms.

The two of you continue down the street, his hand still tightly gripping yours. You look at him questioningly, raising an eyebrow.

“Just making sure you don’t slip again, love,” he squeezes your hand a little tighter. You roll your eyes at him but don’t let go.

Typically, you would hate the pet names, “love,” “darling.” That stuff usually made your skin crawl. But there was something about his demeanor, maybe it was the accent, that made you not mind it at all. You actually kind of liked it.

“So where are you taking me?” he asks.

“Secret.”

It actually wasn’t anything worth keeping a secret. You worked at a small bar a few blocks away from the club you had been at. It was very different however. It was small, and never crowded other than a few regulars who would take the same booths and order the same drinks every night. It was down a side street, relatively difficult to find, hence the lack of business.

What you weren’t planning on telling Tom was that this was also the building you lived in. Your apartment was a few floors up. You picked up night and weekend shifts at the small bar to help cover rent, plus it wasn’t a bad place to spend your extra time. You never had to work too hard, and you could read or do homework behind the bar when not tending to customers. Plus, you got the pick the music.

You stomped your feet against the doormat, scraping all the collected snow off your shoes. Tom didn’t seem to be bothered that you had brought him to another bar, he seemed happy even. You watched his face intently as his cheeks grew rosy from the warmth of the indoors. You liked how the tips of his ears turned pink.

“Voila,” you gesture to the generally empty room, “the Four Seasons.”

He smiles at you and offers to take your coat. He makes his way over to the bar, choosing one of many empty seats. His eyebrows knit together as you continue walking away from him, hopping behind the bar.

“I’m not sure you’re allowed…” he starts.

“Hey Ernie,” you yell into the back office. Your boss replies with something muffled that Tom can’t quite make out, “no, not working tonight, just here with a friend,” you respond to him.

“Ah, so we’re friends now?” Tom asks as you start to make two drinks.

“Oh sorry,” you respond sarcastically, “I’m just here with the roommate of the guy who’s fucking my roommate, my bad.”

“No, no,” he brings his hands up, “we can be friends.”

He takes a sip of the drink you’ve handed him, asking you what it is.

“Moscow mule, fresh ginger, extra lime.”

“This is great, I’ve never had one of these.”

“What can I say, I’m kind of a pro,” you lean on the bar across from him, folding your arms on the countertop.

He liked your sense of humor, how you always had a comeback or something snarky to say. He also really liked your casual attitude, how you seemed unphased by everything. Little did he know you were constantly screaming inside, completely unsure of everything you said and did. Completely unsure as to how you ended up making a cocktail for one of the most attractive boys you’ve ever met. You tried to keep your cool though, and so far, it had been working.

You faced one another, sipping your drinks. At first an awkward moment of silence settled around you, exposing that the two of you truly had just met and knew virtually nothing about one another. You quickly slipped into easy conversation. You didn’t talk about the typical important things like where you worked, where you go to school, how you ended up in the city. You didn’t ask him why he was in the states, or any details about his personal life.

The stuff you talked about was far more personal than that. You exchanged theories about the ending of Lost, debated what Ben and Jerry’s flavor is best, shared the local vernacular and slang you used. These are the things that are important. You didn’t care what he did for work. But you did care what his favorite sitcom was.

“Does this place serve food at all?” he asked when your conversation had turned to what shape of pasta goes best with what sauces.

“Nah,” you gesture to the bar, “this is everything, no kitchen.”

“Damn, I could go for something to eat. Any good places around here?”

“Unfortunately, no. Everything near us either closed at midnight or will for sure give you food poisoning.”

He ate the lime out of his drink, sucking on the pulp until nothing but the skin was left.

“Really that hungry huh?” you joke, taking his lime wedge and tossing it in the garbage, “cuz I can cut up as many of those as you’d like, maybe even find you some maraschino cherries.”

“Don’t bother, maybe I’ll just drink myself into an oblivion.”

“Hey, don’t do that,” you were going against your better judgment when you said this, but it just slipped out, “I can get you some food, follow me.”

You walked around from behind the bar and instructed him to follow you. You slipped through a back door into a spiraling staircase. The air was cold and musty, and the stairs were slightly rickety under your feet. This was the fastest way to get up to your apartment, and you realized now it was too late to turn back, he had joined you in the stairwell and you started making your way up.

“You were worried about your roommate getting murdered by Haz, but now I’m starting to think I should be the one worried,” his tone was joking, but you wondered if he actually thought you were crazy.

“Very funny,” you dismissed it as a joke, “I live in this building, smarty pants.”

You raced him up a few flights of stairs until you arrived at your floor. You started down the hall, not looking back to see if he was following. Your breath grew a little shaky as you searched for your key, realizing you were letting this stranger, this hot stranger into your apartment.

You were just going to make him some food, you remind yourself. Maybe if he’s lucky you’ll let him crash on your couch, who knows. You kept telling yourself you had no reason to be this nervous. He’s just a person.

A person with big brown eyes and strong arms. A person who held your hand and laughed at your jokes. A person who willingly followed you to your apartment door from the sketchy bar you brought him to. Oh god, maybe you did have a reason to be nervous.

“It’s a little messy, hope you don’t mind,” you open the door for him, taking off your shoes at the door.

Your apartment was small, but cozy. You and Madison had been living there for almost two years now, and the apartment was well lived in. Funny pictures donned the walls, fuzzy blankets were strewn around the couches, leftovers filled the fridge.

“What’s on the menu?” he asks, reminding you that he’s here for food.

“Hmmm,” you open the pantry, “we have supplies for stir fry, and… stir fry.”

“I think I’ll have the stir fry,” he laughs, comfortably taking a seat at your small kitchen table.

You quickly started gathering ingredients on the counter, preheating the pan.

“Any preferences?” you yell into the next room.

“I’m not picky,” he responds, “thanks again.”

You start chopping up everything in your fridge and toss it into a pan with some leftover rice. It doesn’t take you long to whip up a decent meal, as stir fry was a recurring meal in your life. You glide into the living room, two bowls in hand. He had found your speaker system and taken it upon himself to put on some music, not that you minded.

“Fuck,” he mumbles after a few mouthfuls, “either I’m starving, or you make a mean fried rice.”

“One of my many specialties,” you were glad that he liked it, glad that he seemed so relaxed despite being in a stranger’s home.

“You’re pretty cool, do you know that?” he took you by surprise

“Umm,” you weren’t sure how to respond to the compliment.

“I just haven’t really met anyone nice since moving here. Haz is really the only other person I know,” he says through bites of food, “and meeting random girls at bars isn’t really a decent way to get to know people, not really know them anyways.”

You were flattered that he was being so honest, but part of you wondered if he was buttering you up to try and get into your pants. You had let him pay for your drinks, taken him to a secondary location, and then cooked him dinner at 2 am, he really would have no reason not to believe you wanted to sleep with him. And you did, oh god did you want to sleep with him, but you were still trying to get a read, was he a flirt like this with everyone? Were you just the girl who happened to be in the right seat at the bar at the right time?

This was why you could never follow through with casual bar hookups. Your mind ran circles around the other person, who they were, where their motivations were coming from. You could never just focus on the fact that you thought he was hot, and you wanted his dick in your mouth.

“Thanks, I guess, you’re kind of cool too,” you avoided eye contact, “but you realize that I am a random girl you met at a bar, right?”

He laughed at your response, finishing his food and taking both of your empty plates into the kitchen. You tried to stop him, but he insisted that you had done the cooking so he would do the dishes, you chose not to argue.

“Yeah but most girls at the bar don’t make me dinner,” he retorts. He had a point, this was kind of an unusual situation you found yourself in. Would this have been easier if you had met him a different way? Rubbed up on him like Madison and Harrison and scurried off to the closest bed? Probably. They were probably already at least two rounds in by now.

“I’ve never taken someone home from the bar before,” oh god, why did you just say that. Why were you being vulnerable and honest, tell him you’re a pro, that you do this all the time.

“Really? I’m surprised,” his tone was nonchalant, so maybe your awkward outburst of truth hadn’t shaken him like you thought it would, “why not?”

“Why not?” you repeat his question to yourself, “I’m just not really good at this kind of stuff, not like you.”

“Are you kidding me?” He turns from the sink to see you leaning against the counter across from him, “You were the one who wined and dined me.”

“I hardly consider stir fry and a vodka mixer to be wining and dining,” you tried to cover up your embarrassment.

“Jeez, then I’d like to experience whatever you consider to be wining and dining, cuz I’m having a great time.”

“What’s your last name?” you ask quickly, suddenly changing the subject

“Holland,” he tells you, “why?”

“I just figured I should know your full name, Tom Holland, if I’m gonna let you sleep in my apartment. You know, in case I have to report you to the police cuz you’ve robbed me or murdered my cat or something.”

“No offense but it doesn’t really look like you have anything worth stealing, and I’m pretty sure you don’t have a cat,” he laughs

“Both true,” you were laughing too. Still in the kitchen, you weren’t sure how to migrate somewhere else.

“You’re sure though? I don’t want to impose. I really can just go find a cheap motel, or go back to my place and crash the orgy that’s probably happening,” he didn’t want to stay if you weren’t comfortable.

“No worries,” you start moving to the living room, “you can make it up to me some other time. I promise you don’t want to be going back to whatever noises are happening in your apartment right now.”

You truly would have been content with him sleeping on the couch, slipping out the next morning, and never speaking again. Well, no. That wasn’t true. You wouldn’t be content, but you’d live with it. You didn’t want to assume anything, didn’t want to make a fool of yourself.

“So,” you start, obviously about to make a fool of yourself, “I can get you some blankets, and you can sleep out here. Or, if you want, we can share my bed. It’s up to you and I won’t be offended either way, I swear.”

Why did you always say things that made you feel so stupid. You winced at your own statement, not wanting to see his reaction. He took a few steps towards you, standing close, but not as close as you would have liked. You continue to look away, waiting for him to say something.

Eyes down on the carpet, you feel his hand grab your chin softly, angling your head up to meet his.

“And when we share your bed,” the breath of his words hitting your face, “are we just going to sleep, or are we...” Although his voice was cool and confident, he was genuinely asking. He had a hard time reading you, and wasn’t sure if you wanted him as badly as he wanted you, or if you were just being nice.

“The second one, definitely the second one,” you reply a little too quickly before he pulls your face to his, lips finally meeting.

His face was warm, and he smiled into the kiss, loving the way your round lips felt on his. He let his hands move to the sides of your face, cradling your jaw as his mouth moved against you. You pulled him closer to you by the grip you had on his t-shirt, the white fabric balled up in your nervous grip. You pulled him backwards with you, navigating your way down the hall.

Taking an intermission on the minute walk down to your bedroom, he presses you up against the wall of the hallway, shoulders angled above yours and mouth still hot against you. You reach your hands towards his, wanting to show him that he had control, that you wanted him to take control of you.

Getting your message, he takes your wrists together in one hand and pins them against the wall above you. His hips jut forward into yours as his wet kisses trail from the corner of your mouth down to your neck.

“Fuck, I-” you moan breathily as he sucks a spot below your ear, your hips rolling forward to meet his. All the while his grip remained tight on your wrists, keeping them steadily pinned above your head. You liked the feeling of letting go, having someone else control the situation. You were generally uptight and liked to take control in other aspects of your life, but this is one that you wanted to submit to.

“You what?” he responds with a steady voice, brown eyes burning holes into you. You knew your face was probably flushed red, hair a complete mess, and neck littered with splotches.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper shakily, “Please.”

Letting go of your arms and lifting you up by your thighs in one swift motion, he takes you by surprise as your face falls into his neck.

“This one yours?” he starts walking down to the end of the hall.

“Mhmm,” you mumble as you start to return the favor, licking up and down the base of his neck until you found his sweet spot. Suddenly you were falling back as he playfully tossed you onto your bed, sheets unmade, and blankets bunched up.

You land in a heap, quickly moving to take your shirt off. He moves quicker, practically tackling you down onto the mattress, causing you both to laugh a little.

“Hey,” he protests, “I wanted to do that.” He takes you hands and moves them as he had done before, and lifts your shirt off your body, you arch your back to help.

He slides his arm underneath you, causing your back to stay arched, pressing your chest into his. He slips his tongue back into your mouth, meanwhile he shimmies out of his jeans, letting them fall to the floor with your abandoned shirt.

Something between a gasp and a whimper escapes your lips as his other hand snakes its way into your damp underwear. Your hands lurch up into his hair, pulling his face into yours as he starts to draw slow circles up and down your lips.

He finally slips a finger into you, causing a guttural moan to stir deep in your throat. You bite your lip to hold the noises back, eyes fluttering shut as he slowly pumps into you. His face comes back into focus as he steadies your head, running his thumb across your lower lip, tugging it away from your teeth.

Instinctually you wrap your lips around his finger, letting your tongue drag itself across his digit. You open your mouth up from its pucker, letting him alternate his thumb with his index and middle fingers, letting those slip into your warm mouth as well. You match the movements of his hand in your pussy with your mouth, sucking down on his fingers every time he re-entered you.

“Fuck Y/N,” he groans, his cock throbbing in his boxer briefs, “I didn’t realize you’d be so dirty.”

You grew a little self-conscious at his comment, opening your mouth so he could remove his fingers.

“It’s so fucking sexy,” he drags the pads of his fingers down your tongue. He moves them down and drags the warm wetness from your saliva down your throat and onto your nipples that were now slipped out of the top of your bra.

You buck your hips into his hand and moan, loving the way he was above you, fucking you with his strong hand, fingers much bigger than your own. You felt his pulsing erection pressing into your lower thigh, and groaned at the thought of him filling you up.

“Tommy,” you didn’t mean to use the nickname, but it slipped out, “condoms are in the shoebox in my bedside drawer, if you want to fuck me.”

He removed his fingers from you, bringing them up to his lips to lick them clean. Your eyelids fluttered at the sight, grinding your hips up into his to show him how bad you wanted him. His shirt came off and joined the pile of your clothes that was slowly growing larger on your floor. You expected him to be fit based on his arms, but he was stacked, built, unreal.

He clearly liked the attention, a cocky smile creeping across his face as your mouth hung slightly open, eyes dragging across his perfect body. He tugs on the waistband of your pants, that were mostly slipped off at this point, to signal to you to remove them while he rummaged through your bedside drawer.

You maneuver your way into a comfortable position, now completely naked, head resting back on a pillow. He was taking a little longer than you expected, pushing and prodding things around.

“They should be right there, blue box? Probably unopened?” you chuckle trying to make light of the situation. The smile is wiped clean off your face as soon as you heard a faint buzzing, then it stopped, then it started again. Condom in hand, as well as your purple vibrator, he climbs back on the bed up to you.

“You are dirty,” he says, trying not to laugh, “I fucking knew it.”

“Hey, you were not supposed to find that!” You try to snatch it out of his hand but he pulls away too quickly.

“You told me shoebox in the nightstand! What were you expecting me to find? You have like eight of these!”

“I do not own eight! I own five, and they are all different and special in their own ways!” you argue back, both laughing now as he jokingly pressed the vibrating wand into your side.

“You keep all kinds of fun stuff in there, huh?” he was not going to let it go. So what, you kept a few…personal items in a secret box in your nightstand, condoms included. You didn’t think he would look around and take an inventory. Your lack of finesse with strangers in bars was made up for by your wide array of battery-operated boyfriends. It wasn’t your fault that the online shop you ordered from sent free gifts when you spent over $100…like fuzzy handcuffs and cherry flavored lube.

The two of you laughed for a minute, both in nothing but your underwear. You were laughing, but the idea of him fucking you with one of your toys quickly made a crimson blush flush over your face.

“Like I said darling,” he drags the vibrator down your stomach to meet your clothed pussy, “you’re fucking sexy.”

Your hips naturally buck up against his touch, arms snaking their way around his neck to pull his face down to yours. His strong fingers, much thicker than your own, re-entered you as he pressed the vibrator firmly against your clit.

You couldn’t help but moan into his wet mouth as he fucked his fingers into you.

“Please,” you whimper, “fuck, Tom, please fuck me. I need you so bad.”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” he whispers into your ear, somehow making your pussy wetter than it already is.

He pulls out of you, causing you to groan at the loss of contact. He tosses his boxers off, revealing his rock hard cock that springs up to his lower stomach. You mouth practically started watering at the sight. He pumps his hand a few times and then rolls the condom on.

You manage to move your shaky legs enough to slip your underwear and bra off. You didn’t have the mental capacity to be self conscious about being naked in front of him, because you were far too occupied drooling over his body.

“How do you want me?” you ask innocently, not meaning to moan out the words as you did.

“Flip over,” he gestures for you to get on all fours, and your knees got weak at the thought.

You positioned your ass up in the air, open and ready for him. You let out a sharp breath as he slides the tip of his cock up and down your folds, teasing you before finally pushing inside. He only pushes in part way though, waiting for your reaction.

“Fuck, Tommy,” you try to roll your hips back onto him, but he firmly grips your ass and keeps you in position.

“You need to learn how to be patient, pretty girl,” he slowly pulls your hips back to meet his, agonizingly slow but so fucking good at the same time.

Your eyes began to water because of how good his cock felt pushed all the way into you, you wanted him to move so bad, but he wanted to torture you, make you wait for it.

“Please, will you please fuck me, I need it,” you sounded so desperate, but you knew he liked it, liked hearing how badly you wanted him.

He starts moving in and out of you, firm grip on your ass never wavering. Quiet moans left his mouth as he fucked into you, causing your eyes to practically roll into the back of your head. He leans down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, despite how viciously he's pounding into you. His head cranes down to your shoulder, his hand coming up to brush your hair out of your face.

As his long fingers move your hair behind your ear, you push your head back into his hand, not wanting to lose contact. He tentatively runs his hands up into your hair, taking a soft grip on your roots.

“Is this what you want?” he whispers, “you like it rough?”

“Yes,” you manage to squeak out, “fuck, pull my hair, spank me, do whatever the fuck you want to me, please.”

He took that as a clear green light to yank back on your hair, causing your back to arch more. He keeps fucking you relentlessly, filling the room with sounds of skin slapping against skin. The obscene noises coming from your mouth only encouraged him to fuck you harder, pull your hair harder, grip your hips harder.

With little warning you feel him suddenly slip out of you, and before you could turn around to ask how he wanted you next, you feel his hands grab tightly to the back of your thighs, keeping you propped up exactly as you are. You feel his hot tongue enter your warm pussy from the back, quickly licking wide stripes up your folds.

“Holy shit,” your brain could not process the pleasure you were feeling fast enough.

He starts to feel your thighs shake under his grasp, knowing that you are close. He wanted to make you come, and hard, as a special thank you for inviting him up to your place. And that he did.

He sucked harshly on your clit, hips tilted all the way back for him, giving him perfect access. You couldn't even articulate to him how good he was making you feel. You were moaning so loud you were worried the neighbors could hear, so you take a fistful of sheets and bury your mouth in them, muffling your sounds. You legs began to violently shake as he lapped up your juices, bringing a harsh slap down onto your ass. Your hips fell to the mattress as soon as he let go.

He grabs your waist and helps you flip over so you lay flat on your back. He hovers over you, placing a gentle kiss to your lips. You feel his hard cock pressing into your core, begging for entrance.

“You good?” he asks as your eyes finally focus, your brain coming back down to earth, “do you want to keep going?” he asks genuinely.

“I’m so fucking good,” you bring him down into a more passionate kiss, pressing your hips up into his erection, “I want nothing more than for you to fuck the shit out of me.”

“Thank god, cuz I want to feel that pretty pussy of yours come all over my cock.”

His words sent shivers down your spine, more so as he pushed back into your sopping wet cunt, finding a quick rhythm fucking into you. He presses your thighs back with his large hands, hitting you at the perfect angle. Your mouth gapes open watching his perfect body thrust into you. How the fuck did you get so lucky? Is this a dream? Possibly.

You notice a smirk creep onto his face, he raises his eyebrows and gives you a look.

“You didn’t think I forgot about this, did you?” he grabs the purple vibrator from the side of the bed and flicks the switch on.

You all but explode as he brings it down to your throbbing clit. The addition of the vibrations to his cock hitting your g-spot perfectly sent you into one of the most body-shaking orgasms of all time. If that wasn’t enough, you open your eyes to see his perfect hand wrapping around your throat, applying exactly the right amount of pressure to your neck.

You can’t say anything other than his name over and over as your walls begin to contract around him. You throw your head back as you see stars. He lets his grip on your neck go and leans down to capture you in a kiss, wanting to connect with you as you reached your peak.

Making intense eye contact, you watch as he bites his lip, savoring the feeling of you coming undone around him. You frantically bring your hands to the back of his head, tangling them in his messy hair as you come down from possibly the most intense orgasm of your life.

“Holy fuck baby, feel so good around me, fuck, gonna make me come soon,” he pants between thrusts.

“Mmmm,” you were still fucked-out from your orgasm, “I want it in my mouth.”

His eyes practically fell out of his head at your comment, lips coming down to attack your breasts that had been wildly bouncing each time he pressed into you. In one swift motion he managed to flip you over. You slide down between his legs and start pumping his cock, not wanting to lose momentum.

You wrap your lips around his head, feeling his shaft twitch under your hand. Swirling your tongue around the tip while quickly jerking him off quickly pushes him over the edge, his come filling your mouth along with your saliva.

His hips jerk up as he comes, pushing his length further into your throat, but you don’t mind, in fact you kind of like it. You watch his expression as you swallow his come, making big doe eyes at him. You lick your lips a little and crawl back up to meet his face.

Flopping down next to him, you let your sweaty body fall into rhythm with his deep breaths.

“I-,” he starts, turning to meet your face, “I don’t even know what to say, that was fucking incredible.”

You turn your head away from him, pretending to act shy.

“I fucking mean it, you’re perfect.”

Your cheeks actually turn pink at this. You press your head to his chest, telling him you liked it a lot too. More than liked it.

“I don’t know if this is weird, if I should go…” he starts to move.

“Offer still stands of course,” you grab his hand, wanting to feel his chest against your cheek again, “couch or bed is all yours.”

“Bed please,” he flops back down next to you and lets you tangle up in his arms, “as long as we can do that again in the morning. You have all those fun toys, I need to try them all out on you.”

The two of you quickly fall asleep, naked and basking in your post sex bliss, a huge smile on your face.

The next morning you hear keys jangling in the front door. Opening your groggy eyes, you don’t have time to fully wake up and register what is happening before you hear Madison knocking at your door.

She barges in, wanting to tell you all about her night with Haz.

“Holy FUCK y/n, I-” she starts before seeing the figure next to you in bed.

You frantically grab the sheets to cover yourself up and make a wild gesture to tell her to get out. She silently breaks into a huge grin, waving her arms around and pumping her fists in the air. You keep gesturing for her to get out, but she continues to victory dance on your behalf.

You knew you would never hear the end of this.

#tom holland smut #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #marvel #smut #fanfiction #tom holland #smutty #marvel fanfiction #oof #i need a glass of water

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anika-ann · 4 years ago

Text

Attached - Bonus

Words Read After the Lights-Out

Type: (mini)-series, college AU, professor AU (technically)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 5500

Summary: Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Time apart is usually unpleasant and this time wasn’t as exception. With messed-up sleep schedule, Steve helps himself with one of your writing he knows you finished. Will it help him fall asleep?

Warnings: smut, 18+, nsfw, semi-public masturbation, oral (fem receiving), PIV, hints of dom/sub, and fluff… and language (always)

A/N: @donutloverxo is ‘bad’ influence on me. Hopefully it will make up for me still not participating in the wonderful weekly challenge.

So here. Have a tiny bit more of smut and then I’m done with it. I am not a smut writer, no, no, no, no… but yeah, I had plenty of fun with this. It’s smut in a fluffy wrapping, because of course it is. I’m me. So, enjoy?

(Also, I copied the start of reader’s fic from the epilogue, so just you’re not surprised)

Story masterlist

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Steve knew he had permission – a half-heartedly mumbled one, somewhere between consciousness and drifting to sleep, but still a permission –, yet he felt a bit dirty.

He had printed the pages few days ago before he left, knowing you finished the story for now named ‘the second encounter with Professor R’, morbidly curious, but hesitant to dive in. These were still your writings, your imaginations and they might have concerned him, but they were still very intimate. And he wasn’t just thinking sexual intimacy – it was simply something coming from the very depth of your mind and Steve honest to god didn’t want to invade your privacy.

However, he had asked if you’d mind if he read what you had written, and you said no. He had asked if he could read it then – and you said yeah.

Here. Permission. Clear as day. And you had left your laptop open, still logged in, as if in invitation. So he had downloaded it and printed it out.

And now he was watching you lying on your stomach, hugging the pillow that was very much on his side of the bed as if you wished you were cuddling him instead and Steve didn’t crave anything but sliding beside you and pulling you to his side.

The problem was that he had been to a conference on the other side of the country and he nodded off on the plane and not even the long shower made him relax properly. And the last thing he wanted was to wake you up, because the last time you Facetimed, you looked like you could sleep for a year.

Steve knew that the fact he had left you alone for the first time since the rumours started that you two were together and it was no surprise that facing the vultures without the possibility to find solace in each other’s arms was taking its toll on you – he wouldn’t like it either. You wouldn’t admit it to him; you kept the distress about it to yourself, not wanting to burden him. The bed was lonely without him, you had said instead, a claim no doubt true as well – and boy, could Steve relate to that.

So now he fished out the few pages and settled at the desk, only the dim light revealing your words to him, as if they were something that indeed should remain a secret.

Steve spent one more glance at your sleeping form, serene, your lips parted as you softly breathed into the pillow, eyes closed, eyelashes casting weak shadows over your cheeks with the little lamp on and Steve couldn’t stop the corners of his lips rising. You were beautiful and his, lying in his bed, practically begging for him to come and take you to his arms.

Steve promised himself that once he would finish reading, hopefully tire his eyes for a bit, he would do exactly that – falling into a blissful sleep with you in his embrace.

He should have known better, really. He should have known that your story would do everything but lull him to sleep.

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Your pen was half-heartedly scribbling on the paper, your brain not quite registering the words coming from his mouth.

You weren’t prepared for a damn history lecture; mostly because when you knocked on the door of the professor’s office, you did not expected to find him not alone; his colleague, the grumpy old idiot, was sitting at his desk, making nots from a book which you probably wouldn’t even be able to lift with how thick it was.

Speaking of thick things… one was meant to be between your legs now, but no, the other prof just had to sit there third-wheeling and cock-blocking—dammit.

Now here you were, sitting opposite to Professor Rogers at his desk, pretending to be taking notes while he kindly filled in your missing knowledge, talking about god knew what.

His voice was a balm to your ears, deep timbre echoing in your ribcage, stirring heat in your abdomen. His voice did things to you no matter what words he spoke and from what distance, but you much rather had him whispering filthy suggestions to your ear, teeth grazing your skin, praises for all the things you allowed him to do to you, with his fingers, with his tongue, with his-

“Miss Clark!” Professor Rogers snapped all of sudden, voice stern and minutely louder than before. Your head snapped to him at instant, meeting his intense glare and a raised eyebrow. “Do I need to remind you that you were the one who expressed a supposedly genuine endeavour to earn your credit? If you could take notes instead of…” he eyed your wannabe notes with the scepticism they deserved “-doodling, that would be splendid.”

The smirk on his lips gave him away as he met your gaze, rising from his seat pointedly.

“Yes, Professor Rogers,” you said meekly, speeding up the circles and other random motions with your hand. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered off, I got lost in your narrative. It won’t happen again.”

You were so full of shit, because the only thing you got lost in was your own imagination, unholy pictures filling your impatient brain. Professor Rogers certainly knew that too – but he kept the front up for his colleague who just couldn’t seem to leave the damn room if even for a minute.

“It better not,” Professor Roberts commented gruffly, circling the hardwood desk slowly, fingers tracing the top of what he was meant to be fucking you against shall your fantasy come true any time soon. You shifted in your seat, feeling slickness gathering between your lower lips in anticipation. “As I was saying, the battle of Stalingrad…”

A sudden thought struck you when he stood beside you; for the first time in the past hour, you actually wrote something down instead of drawing random patterns.

Professor Rogers looked over your shoulder, reading the line about Professor Banks being a pain in your ass and you going crazy with need for your tutor’s cock. Peripherally, you saw Professor Rogers’ hand curl up in a fist, one corner of your lips rising in a smirk.

If you were to suffer, then so could he. It was a bold move, bratty even, one he might punish you for, but you were willing to take the risk, even feeling a tingle in your abdomen at the premise. Would he punish you? How? Were you in for some impatient manhandling today?

Caught up in your musings, you nearly jumped when his hot breath caressed your ear, a whispered promise causing air to get stuck in your throat, your heart speeding up insanely in your chest.

“Patience. Once he’s gone I’m gonna bend you over this desk…”

Your eyes fluttered shut, your mind supplying you with a helpful visual. You could almost feel his hand stroking the back of your thighs, the curve of your ass over your skin-tight dress, your lower back, and roughly pushing between your shoulder blades to trap you against the desk.

“…the German offensive to capture Stalingrad began in August 1942, using the 6th Army and elements of the 4th Panzer Army. The attack was supported by intense Luftwaffe bombing that reduced much of the city to rubble,” he continued the lecture as he straightened again, as if he hadn’t just vowed to get freaky with you.

His hand grazed the back of your chair, painfully close and still so far, moving to your other side, the heat of his body once again teasing you, his mouth an inch from your skin.

“…and fuck you ‘till you can’t walk…”

Your breathing picked up, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, the urge to lick your lips stronger than you. You glanced in Professor Banks’ direction, but there was no way he could hear what his colleague was whispering to your ear, the filthy promises made in between lecturing you about one of the biggest and most important battles of WW II. How could Professor Rogers even focus-

“You certainly have to write this down, Miss Clark—November 19, the Red Army launched Operation Uranus, a two-pronged attack targeting the weaker Romanian and Hungarian armies protecting the 6th Army's flanks.”

“… and ‘till the only thing you remember from this session is my name...”

You couldn’t even make out the words he spoke on normal volume anymore. Your fingers gripped the pen, the echo of sensations from the last week that had haunted you for days ghosting over your skin, your lips, your-

“…and how good my cock feels in your cunt.”

As if on command, your core clenched around nothing, the desperate craving to relieve some of the gradually building desire causing your thighs to rub together on instinct, hoping to create some friction at least. You could imagine Professor Rogers’ pupils dilating at that, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as one simple sentence of yours backfired unexpectedly.

His lips actually brushed over the shell of your ear with his next words, making you suck in air in a sharp inhale.

“You better get yourself ready, ‘cause I won’t waste any time with that.”

You blinked furiously at the statement, your head once again snapping to the other man in the room, who could turn to you any moment, catching you red-handed if you actually went through with it.

No way, no fucking w-

“Did I stutter, Miss Clark?” Professor Rogers hissed irritably and you dared to look at him, shocked to see a wolfish smile, a hungry glint in his eye that filled your stomach with butterflies, causing you to practically drip into the fabric of your dress.

“No, Professor Rogers,” you whispered obediently, your mind racing as you couldn’t make yourself to slip your hand under and just… listen to the command. “I understood.”

He held your gaze as he stepped to your right to partly shield you from view.

Be a good girl, he mouthed, sending a pleasant shudder down your spine, your pussy weeping for him, something inside you begging for you to obey just so you could hear him say it out loud later.

“Then we shall continue. At the beginning of February 1943, the Axis forces in Stalingrad…”

You inhaled shakily, your hand trembling a little as you let it fall from the top of the table, landing on your leg instead, your thumb grazing the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh.

Professor Rogers’ eyebrows jumped a fraction, his chin motioning for you to go on, his eyes dark and lustful like a night.

Not daring to cast a single glance at the other man, because he would only make you lose your nerve, you moved your hand under the hem of your dress which was slightly below your mid-thigh, fingers trailing up until they reached the very high thigh-highs you were wearing.

“You seem to be forgetting to take notes, Miss Clark, my patience is truly wearing thin. Let’s move to another battle which was critical for the development of the war, the battle of Bulge…”

The words fell on deaf ears. All you could hear was the pounding of your own heart as your fingers slid right into the slickness pooled at your core; just like he had asked a week ago, there was nothing in the way, no underwear. You nearly whimpered when the tips of your fingers touched your opening, the barely-there contact blissful and yet torturous as you craved so much more.

You could feel his gaze on you, studying every quickened rise and fall of your chest, every single motion of the tendons in your forearm and thighs, flexing when your thumb circled your aching swollen clit, your eyes sliding shut at the tingle that ran through your nerve endings, your forefinger dipping into your cunt. You bit on your lip to stop yourself from releasing the whimper threatening to spill from your lips.

His stupid talk, momentarily empty promises, his voice on your ear, his lips brushing your skin, the light pressure on your clit, the finger moving slowly inside you— it all felt amazing, way too good considering that you knew you weren’t alone, but by God, did it add a tiny bit of a thrill, causing your heart to flutter, your core to burn.

You could still hear Professor Rogers talking, not one of his words registering until his fingertip grazed your collarbone, a breath of ‘such a good girl’ caressing your ear. You gulped, feeling your pussy clench, a shudder running down your spine.

“Go on, make yourself feel good. Add another.”

You had no idea how he knew what you were doing under the fabric, but he retreated again, to talk armies and bloodshed and all you could think off was being the good girl he had proclaimed you, worrying your teeth over your lips strongly enough to draw blood almost, third finger slipping into your heat. Your eyes fluttered open at the sensation, gaze stubbornly fixing on Professor Rogers’ chair, your breathing shallow and quick as you felt the pressure building.

Your mind was turning hazy as you tried to comprehend whether you liked the presence of the unsuspecting professor or were ashamed doing this while he was right there. You massaged your inner walls slowly, carefully despite how much you needed the release at this point, barely moving in or out in the fright of making noise. Your head spun, your thighs trembling softly with your climax nearing, the pleasure on horizon setting your blood on fire.

And then there was a pinch to your shoulder, nearly making you yelp in surprise—but somehow, even in the fog your brain was in, you understood that it was an order to stop and your hand instantly disappeared, curling into a fist on your thigh.

You tried your best to stop the shaking, to ignore the slickness on your fingers, now hopefully hidden in your palm and not on display – and peripherally, you could see Professor Banks rise to his feet, picking up items from his desk.

Your heart was beating its way out of your chest, air caught in your lungs as you attempted to calm yourself just in case he would look at you. As if your sex wasn’t practically pulsing because of the abrupt neglect, so so close to the release you craved.

In a sudden clarity of mind, you swiftly took fresh paper and set in on top of your ‘notes’ and gripped the pen again, seemingly ready to continue writing down important dates and names. You heard Banks steps nearing and you instinctively looked up. You had no idea what face you made, because you had zero control over your mimic muscles, too busy trying not to spontaneously combust.

Whatever he read from your expression, it made him eye his colleague.

“Don’t keep her for much longer, Steven. I’m sure she deserves some fun today too,” the older professor remarked, shooting you an uncharacteristic smile and walked out of the office, his old-fashioned leather case swinging. Professor Rogers’ ‘Don’t worry, Bradley,’ followed him and finally, the door clicked shut behind him, allowing you to release an exhale.

“He has no fucking idea,” you muttered, tossing the damn pen aside, running a hand down your face, while your other one remained curled up in a tight fist.

“Shut you dirty mouth, babygirl,” Professor Rogers hissed, crossing the distance to the door in few long strides, glancing at Banks’ desk to make sure that the man hadn’t forgotten anything he could come back for, and only then locked.

The next thing you knew, you were on your feet, the edge of the hardwood desk digging into your ass, your wrists pinned by his hands.

Your breath was stolen by his mouth, lips taking yours, warm, sweet, soft and demanding, a hungry kiss that had no end, one of your wrists suddenly free as his fingers curled around your nape, tangling in your hair, pushing and pulling, just to get more of you. You submitted easily, gratefully even, blissed out at the feeling of his tongue exploring your mouth, taking everything he wanted.

You gasped for air when he withdrew, his forehead resting against yours for a split moment, his touch on you almost tender now, more so when he brought your wrist to his mouth and left a brief kiss on your knuckles, inhaling deeply, causing your face heat up.

“So obedient, such good girl,” he whispered in a husky voice, thick with arousal, and you could swear you were about to burst. “Sweet, sweet girl.”

You were caught between embarrassed and aroused when he pried your fingers open, his tongue tasting your drying juices. Your core clenched in need and as if he could feel it, his hips rutted into yours, his own excitement evident as his cock poked your lower stomach, his mouth once again on yours, your hand trapped between your bodies, his fingers gripping your sides tightly.

“I promised you something, didn’t I?” he mumbled to your mouth.

Recalling just what a vow he had made you with the other man still present, you gladly let him spin you around, manoeuvre you to press your front to his desk with no regard for the notes scattered over it. You instantly missed the warmth of his body, but his hands went to knead the flash of your ass, one sliding to your lower back, the other hiking up your dress.

A groan escaped him at the sight of you bared for him, his foot nudging yours apart, his grip on you tightening, fingers digging into your flesh enough to bruise before they slid lower, dipping into your slickness. His fingertips spread it, circling your clit, nearly causing your knees to buckle at the shot of bliss sent through your veins. A pathetic mewl fell from your lips and you could only imagine the indulgent smile on his face.

“God, look at you, so pretty, so ready for me,” he praised, fingers tracing the lace of your thigh-highs. “I really like these. Good choice…. Hold on tight, babygirl.”

You wasted no time and listened to him, grabbing the edge of the desk as his touch disappeared. You closed your eyes, anticipation building when you heard the tell-tale of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you again and as wrong or right as it was, you couldn’t help yourself, missing him. You knew things weren’t as simple as they could be seen – you noticed the little things, unnecessary tenderness peeking through, showing you that you were more than just a mindless fuck.

His warm palms spread your cheeks almost lovingly, slightly guiding you up so you stood on your tiptoes, bracing on the hardwood desk, so close to beg for him to finally fill you up, so con-

“Oh my-“ you cried out, your thighs clenching when instead of his hard cock nudging your slit, a velvety-soft warmth licked at your opening, eager and hungry, wasting no time and opening you further, the tip of his tongue pushing in, his lips sucking every drop you offered. Blood rushed to your head and to your centre, fingertips tingling, your most sensitive parts feeling like on fire. His beard was a stark contrast to the softness of his tongue, rough sensation making you dizzy. “Prof-“

His fingers applied pressure on your clit again, the circling motions making your head spin, your thighs shake again with the intensity of the approaching orgasm as professor Rogers fucked you with his tongue relentlessly, reaching even deeper, flicking his tongue and driving you absolutely crazy with pleasure.

A cry ripped from your throat as your climax shook your whole world, knees giving out, your fingers weakly clutching at the edge of the desk, your body slack against the wood. And he didn’t stop. He helped you ride it out with vigour, humming against your cunt, sending aftershocks through your veins. Only when he stopped, you felt you could finally breathe— his mouth moved just a fraction, a sting on your inner thigh as he sucked a mark of possession, one he kissed afterwards; even in your haze, a soft warmth enveloped your heart. Not a mindless fuck.

“Sorry sweetheart, I couldn’t help myself…” he muttered to your skin, stroking, squeezing, kissing, moving up and whispering to your hair. Did he just apologize…? “You’re even sweeter than I hoped.”

Your heart fluttered, your hand blindly finding his as it still clutched on your waist. He didn’t retreat, gently squeezing back, knocking the breath out of you when he simultaneously entered you, his whole length in one swift motion, sinking so easily into your weeping cunt.

Professor Rogers moaned as you gasped, your core instinctively clenching around him.

“So tight… so good-“

His hands moved to your hips, his cock driving in and out, slowly at first, letting you feel every inch, his thick member stretching you pleasantly after such delicious preparation.

“Professor Rogers,” you gasped when he hit the right spot, his grip tightening.

“That it, babygirl?” he teased, purposely changing the angle, barely brushing your g-spot with his next thrust. You couldn’t help the mewl of frustration, attempting to shift and help yourself, only to meet with the steely hold he had on you. “Ah-ah, none of that, babygirl… you want more? Want me to make good on my promise?”

You really wanted to sneer at him, to snap, but—God, he moved so right the next moment, giving you another taste of the delicious sensation and you nodded fiercely, only for him to still in his movements, thumbs drawing a circle on your skin.

“Yes,” you voiced your request then, earning a satisfied hum and a tap of his fingers. Words are good, now do better, you almost heard him say and you clenched your jaw in frustration. For God’s sake- “Yes, please.”

“Please what?” he urged you as he rolled his hips lazily, dragging his cock alongside your walls so painfully slow.

You sighed, rocking yours hips just a bit – vainly, again.

“Please, fuck me against the desk… Professor Rogers.”

It worked like a charm, a kiss landing between your clothed shoulder blades.

“Good girl,” he hummed, the praise giving you as much joy as it did to him, apparently. “Brace yourself, sweetheart, I’m not holding back on you. I waited long enough…”

And that he did; the lecture had been a torture until it changed into a different kind of-

The half-unpleasant memory vanished from your mind, quickly replaced by the sensation of his length filling you up again, and again, again, speeding up, angling his hips so he finally hit the spot you craved to have stimulated, driving in and out with force that made you see stars, sharp gasps escaping your lips with each thrust.

You clutched at the table, unable to hold still, trying to meet him halfway, adding to the pleasure that had tears gathering behind your closed eyelids.

“Shit, I’m gonna-“ he groaned and freed one of his hands in favour to take you with him, playing with your clit and making you moan his name as the coil in your abdomen snapped again, causing you clench around him. It tipped him over the edge and you felt him spill into you, some of his seed tickling your opening as he rode his climax out.

You were both breathing heavily as his body laid over yours, the sweat gathering on your forehead and back be damned. You melted into the comfort his weight offered, pleasantly surprised when one of his hands found yours, still on the edge of the desk, fingers interlacing, a wet sloppy kiss landing on the side of your neck.

You could feel him soften inside you, a new sensation that felt strangely intimate, and yet he stayed a little longer.

“Stay right here, babygirl,” he rasped out, the warmth of him disappearing as he stood up fully and pulled out.

You obeyed despite not being sure what was about to happen… your first thought was a photo and you weren’t sure how you felt about that.

However, your first thought was wrong.

You heard rustle as he pulled out a wet-wipe, a sharp exhale following – warming it up, you realized later – and then he carefully cleaned you up, soft and wary of how sensitive you were, his mission ending with a brief kiss on the spot where the bitemark was probably already blooming.

“You can get up,” he encouraged you, standing by your side, hands hovering as if ready to catch you.

Now your head spun for a whole different reason. What the hell was happening? What was he doing? What did this mean? You weren’t about to complain in the slightest, but… what.

Professor Rogers was observing you wordlessly, intense gaze you couldn’t hope to understand and you couldn’t help the shame warming up your cheeks, knowing that even with waterproof mascara and quality lipstick, you were far from looking perfect – and still, he appeared to be feasting his eyes on you.

Before you could try and fix it, he caught your hand halfway to your face, planting a kiss on your wrist and reaching for another tissue, taking care of it himself.

You were rendered speechless, eyes wide, lips parted as his own spread in a gentle smile, gaze almost fond as his thumb caressed your cheek.

“Pretty girl,” was all he said, a kiss landing on your forehead, causing your breath to hitch, your eyelashes fluttering as you blinked several times, unable to comprehend.

You were too stunned to say a single word, frozen on spot and yet you could feel your bones melting under his gaze, still unwavering, focused, boring into yours.

Neither of you made an attempt to move – neither of your reached for your handbag so you could be on your way. You just stood there in silence, lost in how incredibly handsome, beautiful he was up-close, finally having time to fully appreciate it – and with the softness of his features, you felt yourself fall for him, caught in the safety net of his kind eyes.

Your mouth opened uselessly and the pad of thumb moved to run over your lips, ending up in the corner of your mouth, raising it in a lopsided smile.

“You called me my first name,” he whispered, effectively bursting your blissful bubble and invading it with horror.

Oh god, you had? When—oh. Oh. Now you recalled it, a tiny bit horrified that you actually called him ‘Steve’ when reaching your peak.

“I’m sor-“

He shook his head and before you could finish, he pulled you in for another kiss, slow, deep and meaningful, his arm curling around your waist as if he couldn’t get you close enough and once again, you weren’t about to complain, placing one palm on his shoulder, the other on the side of his neck instead.

“I liked it,” he breathed to your mouth, pecking your lips once more before releasing you. “I’ll see you next week, Miss Clark.”

You nodded automatically, still stunned by the whole turn of events and accepted the handbag he gently handed you.

“…thanks,” you muttered and let him lead you out of the office.

When he unlocked the door, you readjusted your dress, making sure that in any normal circumstances people could see the lack of your underwear; what a reminder of Professor Rogers – Steve – being no less kinky than the first time, no matter how his demeanour now. You glanced at his face again and lost all remnants of sanity.

You placed your hand on his broad impressive bicep and dropped a light kiss on his cheek, enjoying the tickle of his beard once more.

“I’ll see you,” you echoed his words, meeting his twinkling eyes before walking out of the door.

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Steve had to blink several times as he finished reading, trying to get a grasp on reality again, the words and images still swimming in front of his eyes. He needed few moments to process what he just read for more than one reason; he certainly didn’t feel sleepy as he had naively hoped.

He found the story hot, yeah, he wasn’t kidding himself, he was rock hard and aching, but what took him aback greatly and rendered him speechless was the sentiment. The shift in the relationship, the parts of Steve you got to know that you had implemented into the story with ease, the story in which ‘Miss Clark’ was surprised by the professor’s affection.

Steve read in the words the same astonishment and tender awe he saw in your eyes when you first exchanged ‘I love you’, after he had read the very start of this story for the first time and told you that he loved your mind as well.

Even when he glanced at your form now, so tempting in his bed, practically begging for him to satiate the hunger that your words spurred, it was impossible to ignore the warmth in his chest, his heart suddenly feeling too big for his ribcage.

Delicately placing the pages down, he turned off the lamp and carefully made his way to you, the mattress dipping under his weight, the motion drawing an adorable but barely audible whimper from you. Steve smiled for himself and slid beside you, curling his arms around your form and pulling you to his chest as much as he could without poking you with his hard-on, having decided to ignore it until it went away. He just-- honestly, he wouldn’t say no, but just holding you would suffice tonight.

You melted into his body so trustingly and naturally it made his heart ache and sing at the same time—God, he loved you. Then, as your mind registered that he was technically not supposed to be there, your form stiffened before pressing into him further, curling in his embrace, allowing him to nuzzle his nose in your hair.

“Hi,” you greeted him sleepily, but no less sweetly.

Steve dropped a kiss to the back of your head, his smile widening. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m okay, I’m glad to be home and you can go back to sleep.”

“Mm-mm, thanks for the report.”

You turned your head to catch his lips in a welcome kiss, one Steve wouldn’t refuse in a million years; sleepy, a bit sloppy, but one that tasted like home. Yours. And with both of you smiling into it.

“Welcome back. I missed you.”

He brushed the strand of your hair from your face, kissing you once more at your admission.

“Missed you more.”

Your grin only widened when you rolled over to him fully, tangling your limbs with his and accidently – possibly on purpose – brushing his erection with your thigh. He hissed despite himself and he would swear he could see a glint of mischief in your eyes despite the lack of light in the room.

“Oh, I see how it is, you missed me,” you giggled adorably and Steve couldn’t bring himself to be exasperated at you breaking the magic of the moment. And he certainly didn’t feel like telling you what exactly got him into this state – at least not now.

“Not just like that,” he grumbled and you giggled once more, finding his lips with yours, your hand surprisingly moving to rest on his chest, right over his heart, rather than heading down his torso.

“I’m hopeful,” you whispered, looking up at him from under your eyelashes and even in the dark, Steve felt his heart stutter. God, you were beautiful. Breath-taking. His. “But we should take care of this.”

Your hand slid considerably lower, giving some attention to his aching hard-on, softly curling your fingers around it and stroking and his resolve was slowly – very quickly – turning non-existent.

“I didn’t want to wake you at all. You need to sleep-“ he tried out weakly and you eyed him again, kissing his sternum, still smiling.

“Don’t feel sleepy. And I missed you too. In all the ways possible. I want to feel you, Steve.”

And fuck, he was lost. To your hands, to your lips, to your voice – when did it grow so sultry? –, to the smell of your shampoo and bodywash and your skin and to your damn face he couldn’t even see properly.

“Hey,” he mumbled in a spur of the moment, catching your hand to still your delicate strokes before they clouded his mind completely.

You blinked in an understandable surprise; but he had an important thing to say, simultaneously making a mental note to emphasize it again when telling you he read the second story too.

“Wha-“

“I truly missed you, sweetheart. I love you.”

Your surprise melted into something much softer and Steve couldn’t but meet your lips again, catching a glimpse of that same awe he marvelled at when reading. Your fingers in his hair were an epitome of bliss as you kissed him back with care.

“I love you too, Steve. So much…” you vowed and then there were no more words needed.

Steve devoured your lips, your body, revelling in every soft sigh of his name. And soon worn out after you both tipped over the edge, you fell asleep, tucked under the covers in his arms, the pair of you finally sleeping soundly again after being apart.

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‘One-shot’ Hurtful Words part 1

S.R. masterlist

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Thank you for reading :-*

I felt like I owe it to you, to them and to myself after the story she was writing didn’t get to be read (Steve caught her writing it). I hope you enjoyed :)

I’m thinking one more one-shot, maybe, will see how it goes, I’ll be pretty busy from the next week, so...

303 notes · View notes

subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years ago

Text

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Eight

Ao3, Masterpost, C.1 C.2 C.3 C.4 C.5 C.6 C.7

Relationships: queer-platonic intruality, mentioned platonic relationships.

Second chapter of the night, babe! I’m really going for it with finishing this story!! mostly no italics as is my usual, because tumblr Sucks <3

Warnings: cursing, brief true-crime talk, sexual innuendo, depressive episodes, crying, LOTS of h/c, mentions of past neglect (ok neglect is a really strong word it isn’t that bad, but, idk what to call it), touch-starvation, honestly though this is a ridiculously fluffy chapter guys.

Word count: 5,618

In three weeks, Patton and Remus had gone from borderline insomnia to a sleep schedule that could’ve impressed even Logan.

And in three weeks, neither had spent a single night alone.

The talk they’d had after their first sleepover ended up leaving more of an impact than either had realized. Maybe it should’ve been expected: they were both accustomed to saying exactly what they meant, exactly how they meant it, and any sort of vow to ‘never let go’ couldn’t be used lightly for two creatures like that.

So, independently, they both decided to be as literal as they could about it. God, were they clingy.

But it worked better than anything. There was less aching, more talking, and if they were feeling better, the whole Mindpalace improved. Something something, the delicate ecosystem of the human mind, blah blah.

And then it worked too well.

Neither of them really knew what had happened, or how to feel about it (it might have been sad or strange that neither had ever had anything to compare it to, but if asked, they’d both say that’s what made it so special. They’d be right to say so, of course). It was what they had, together.

It wasn’t romantic- they’d seen romantic, knew it as well as they could, didn’t care for it. But in the end who cared about semantics? It didn’t matter, the reasons why Patton stared after his friend for a little too long, or what was making it so hard for Remus not to kiss his pal smack on the lips every time he smiled. Another thing that didn’t matter was the why in response to how they still hadn’t talked about it, but… Patton and Remus had resolved that as a problem for another time.

What mattered was that it just was.

(And another thing that mattered, a little bit, was the how it had happened, and both of them understood that perfectly well.)

Remus lounged on the floor at the foot of his bed, Patton behind and above him. Patton’s fingers were working steadily through his mess of hair, while the pair half-watched TV. They didn’t agree on most shows, and neither of them were especially crazy about arguing, which meant it was twenty minutes of roundabout conversation until they stumbled across something they could mutually zone out to. Whatever. The system worked.

Remus typically preoccupied himself with drawing, painting, or carving some material into something or other (said something-or-other was almost always a knife or a dildo. Occasionally, it was both).

Patton seemed to favor being distracted by Remus’ hair, though it wasn’t clear why. Remus hadn’t asked; it felt nice, and he was surprised that anyone would actually want to thread their fingers through those oily strings, so why question a good thing?

Actually, a better question was why not. The thought had stuck in his mind, and he had nothing better to do- art block and all- so. Remus tossed his sketchbook to the side and twisted up to look at Patton.

“Why do you do that?”

Patton glanced down at him. “Do what?”

Remus reached up, prying Patton’s hands out of his hair and holding them up like evidence. Patton blinked at them, and okay, cute- but he looked genuinely surprised by the question.

“Oh, playing with your hair? I mean, there’s no real reason, I guess it’s just mindless. Something to fidget with, y’know? It’s always all tangled up, too, so it’s like a little puzzle- a puzzle I probably won’t solve all the way ever, but that’s most puzzles with me to be honest,” he smiled brightly, creasing all his laugh lines just right. “Also, um, it feels nice that I get to stay touching you, even if it’s just something small,” he shrugged, sort of sheepishly. “Is that weird?”

But Remus was beaming up at him, definitely looking all sorts of stupid for it, and definitely not caring. He dropped Patton’s hands, letting them find their way back into his coils and matts of hair.

“You’re asking the wrong guy, Sugar Cookie, but you can keep messing with my hair all you want. It probably is weird, in that case, because I like that you have your hands on me so much-” Jesus Christ it was so hard not to make a sex joke, Remus had to stifle several from breaking his train of thought. Ugh, the things he did for this man. “-And if I like something, it’s 100% freaky!”

Patton just laughed, his nose scrunching up while he ruffled Remus’ hair.

“That’s- that’s good to know,” an index finger coiled around silver strands, and Patton’s eyes sparkled in the most literal sense, “Hey, Remus?”

Remus let his head rest on the side’s thigh, humming attentively.

“When you say I can mess with it…”

He looked up with a delightful anticipation, grinning before Patton had even finished his sentence.

“Can I braid your hair?” The question accompanied by a faint tug at Remus’ scalp, and the feeling of several tangles coming undone, “I’m pretty good at it. Virgil used to let me do his- not so much anymore, but, um. Anyway, yours would be long enough- or maybe longer, if I got these knots out,” he smiled, kindly, “But I know you like having it knotty, so it’s okay if you don’t want me to.”

Remus thought it over, because yeah, he was very proud of his rat’s nest. Besides, he was sure that even if it got straightened out, it’d still be just as greasy as ever- ohh, but that could be a look all on its own, couldn’t it? Maybe he could even weave some garbage into the plait!

“Sure!” Remus assented, “The rest of me’s naughty enough to make up for the hairdo, so have at ‘er.”

Patton snorted at the pun, obviously excited to get started. When he ushered Remus to turn around, his hands easily undoing clumps of hair with surprising focus, humming to himself all the while, Remus was absolutely certain he’d made the right choice.

It was done in an hour- Patton was slow and careful about every movement. Remus didn’t really mind, though he’d try to assure Patton that it was fine to do it in a hurry, that he wasn’t so sensitive. (Patton didn’t, obviously, ignoring Remus’ comments about how it didn’t even matter because they weren’t real, and pain was a construct. Patton was stubbornly gentle, to the point that Remus couldn’t be annoyed by it. He might even say it was sweet, if he was feeling particularly sappy.)

It had also taken such time because of the decorations Patton had woven into his hair, which he insisted would be surprises. So Remus was bouncing with excitement all the way to the mirror- cuz even though he was sure it wouldn’t be anything like the live bugs, weeds, and dead flowers that he’d had in mind to thread in there himself, he knew it’d at least be pretty. Pretty wasn’t really his thing, sure, but Patton’s brand of pretty? It had grown on him.

The mirror in Remus’ room was chipped, slick with grime, and filled with silhouettes that vanished as soon as you turned around, but it worked just fine. Remus hauled himself over to it, peered in, and okay, he definitely didn’t mind a little bit of pretty.

“You weren’t fucking around when you said you were good at this, Morey!”

In their reflections, Remus saw Patton smile, going a bit pink around the ears. He glanced back to himself, eyes trailing appreciatively down the shoulder-length braid of dark, greasy hair. His grey streak wasn’t twisted in with the rest of the locks, instead it had been left out in front, springy and curly and giving the whole look a messier vibe. The braid itself seemed inky-slick, shot through with glittering hair clips and pins. At first, they looked like plain plastic jewels, but with closer inspection the shapes of tiny beetles, bugs, and moths were unmistakable. They were gorgeous, and probably a better call than putting actual live bugs in his hair; he was less likely to end up eating the sparkly clips, at any rate.

But if all that wasn’t enough, then there were the ribbons. Whip-thin and several in number, they sparkled with enough course glitter to impress a Las Vegas body paint artist. Some were a pukey neon green, and the rest a light, bright-

“Blue?”

Patton met Remus’ eyes, through the mirror again, and the pink slowly traveled from his ears down to his face. He shrugged, grazing the blue-and-green bow where the braid was tied off with the tips of his fingers.

“I guess I got a little carried away,” he smiled lightly, “I thought it looked nice, with the green.”

Remus looked away from the glass, “You’re not wrong about that,” he muttered.

Patton shrugged, not quite making his eyes.

“You can take those ones out, if you want to.”

That- the way Patton went flustered and shy and he’d put his colors on Remus- it gave the Duke a very strong urge to do something. The urge pulled at his chest, feeling like cracked ribs in the best way, and it really wasn’t fucking around when it wrapped around his heart and squeezed so tight it felt like it was forcing all the blood right out of him.

Remus was used to impulses, and the powerful, mind-halting swells of emotion, but this was new and fun and it had jumped out of nowhere even for him. He was staring at Patton, and he had the urge to do something. He would’ve done it, too, if only he knew what the fuck it was that he wanted.

It had to do with Patton. He should start there, probably.

“I’m gonna keep them in, duh,” Remus replied, finally, and his voice was way louder than it needed to be, “Wouldn’t wanna fuck up the look.”

Patton glanced at him, smiling self-consciously, and his hand lowered from Remus’ hair to rest on his shoulder. For a moment Remus felt blind, vision white-out and trouble breathing, from whatever the fuck he was feeling, and he just didn’t know what to do.

Then Patton laughed, his ocean eyes squinted, and the burning impulse plummeted to an ache. A giddy, unfamiliar kind of ache. A manageable ache.

Remus resolved to forget it. He had lots of instincts, and urges, and God knew that not even half of them made sense. It had left, that was what mattered, and he could enjoy the rest of his day with his friend.

He’d never been the type to worry, anyway.

There were days that Patton just… couldn’t make it out of bed. He tried, he really did, but he could only go for so long before it all started crumbling. He’d wake up, and something would just feel wrong, and he’d know that it was a doomed day, but he still made the stubborn effort to save it. Because each time he thought, maybe he’d beat it, maybe he’d make the best of it- and sometimes he did, but most of the time he made it as far as breakfast, and then he was right back in his room by noon to let the depressive episode take over.

So yeah. It was one of Those Days.

Patton laid in bed, propped up on pillows and stuffed animals with his unfocused eyes staring just above the television. Bad days had been getting rare, and naively, Patton had thought that meant it was over for good. When he woke up that morning, Remus barely stirring beside him, the empty feeling inside was almost ignorable.

He’d stayed above it for all of two-and-a-half hours before retreating to his room again, this time on his own.

Patton was always alone when he got in one of his moods, and he knew it was better that way. He was no fun at all, just a sad sack of blah, and he knew just how intolerable he ended up being. He couldn’t even tolerate himself.

So each time Patton would tell the other sides that he needed some space alone, and of course they respected that. Roman always hugged him before he left. Virgil checked on him every now and then. Logan, without fail, sent him extra plushies (and sweet snacks, however much he disapproved of unhealthy eating, because he knew how much sugar cheered Patton up). It didn’t fix the ache, but it helped, knowing that people were worried about him.

But, back to that particular day; the day that left Patton huddled up at the head of his bed with blank, glazed-over eyes; the first day of its kind since Remus had been staying with him.

It had gotten… harder, somehow. The fact that it had been gone for so long, and he’d been so optimistic, but now it was all back…

Patton buried his face in the soft fabric of a teddy bear, shaking and crying and feeling so, so, cold.

It went on for a few horrible, horrible minutes, and then there were noises that definitely weren’t sobs. Down the hall; the slamming of a door, followed by distant muttering, and then excited footsteps. Heavy, clunky footsteps. Sounds that brought back acute deja vu, and had Patton glancing up just in time to realize what was about to happen.

His door swung open, and Remus was grinning at him from the entrance. Patton struggled to put on a smile in time, scrubbing frantically at his eyes.

“Hey! It’s, like, two o’clock, are you ready?”

Patton blinked up at him, partially in confusion, partially to try and stop the flow of tears. “Ready…?”

Remus’ face fell a little, and he came forwards into the room.

“Yeah…” Remus shut the door behind him- with less force than usual- and sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed. He stared intently at Patton, frown deepening all the while, pupils flitting around as he seemed to take in every detail of his friend’s condition. Patton wanted to squirm. “We were gonna- are you okay?”

He stared dumbly at Remus for a second more, and then it clicked: they had plans today. He could barely remember what they were supposed to do- they’d been talking so quick, so excited, so happy- but Patton was pretty sure it had to do with a new creation of Remus’.

Which was… something he definitely, definitely didn’t have the energy for.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” Patton sat up straight, trying desperately to stop trembling, “I completely forgot, I just- um- I don’t know if I can make it today.”

That sounded bad, didn’t it? Wouldn’t that be the icing on top of the cake, if he hurt Remus’ feelings just because he was wallowing for basically no reason. It probably wouldn’t even be that bad if he sucked it up and went along with it anyway- except Janus kept insisting how bad self-sacrifice was, but- what else was he supposed to do!?

“Oh, it’s okay,” Remus said, not sounding hurt at all. “I’d be more pissed if I thought you were just bailing, and I know you don’t do that, Pat. Plus, you’re obviously upset, so don’t worry about it.”

Patton glanced up to find him still staring, somehow more intense than before, and much closer than before. He looked- he looked worried. Not upset. Worried.

“Oh,” Patton looked away again, unable to stand the scrutiny, “Okay.”

A hand slipped into his, prying open his clenched fist, and he had to stifle a gasp at the touch. Temperature shock, that was the best word for it. Patton shivered.

“Can I help you?”

Patton’s eyes went wide at the sweet sincerity in Remus’ voice, the way he said it as plainly and openly as he’d say anything else. Even if it wasn’t a big deal, really, with Patton’s emotions in the state that they were, while he was in his room of all places, anything could send him breaking down again.

“I- I don’t, um-” he blinked furiously, had done that a lot since Remus found him; it was beginning to make him feel dizzy. “Nothing’s really wrong…”

Remus squeezed his hand.

“Well, what isn’t really wrong?”

“What?”

“You said nothing’s ‘really’ wrong, so, what’s wrong-but-not-really?”

Patton tipped his head to the side, for a moment more confused than he was aching. “How do you mean?”

But Remus just rolled his eyes- not unkindly- and shrugged.

“So, you don’t know why you’re all… sad,” the emphasis made Patton wince, “But I figure that being sad at all usually makes other things wrong, too, and I can help with those things! For example-” he pitched forwards suddenly, ruby-reds wide and searching. He sniffed at Patton (probably not for any kind of actual inspection, but it made him laugh, and judging from Remus’ proud little smirk that had been on purpose.) “You had anything to eat? Or, uh, water? Those are supposed to be important.”

Oh, right. That.

Patton leaned away, pulling his hand out of Remus’ grasp as he flushed abashedly. But he didn’t- well, he wasn’t going to lie to Remus.

“I guess I haven’t, no,” he tried to laugh it off- this didn’t have to be a thing, it didn’t have to be serious, if he kept laughing. If he got Remus to laugh.

But Remus was already standing, and that brought up another very effective solution; if Patton was being depressing, maybe he would just get sick of it and go.

“Okay, we’ll start there! Wait here, I’ll be back in- ten minutes? Sure, that’s how long it takes to make food,” Remus was muttering half to himself, but it sure as heck didn’t sound like leaving.

“Oh, you don’t have to get me anything!” Patton insisted, because if Remus wasn’t escaping yet, then he wasn’t going to mooch off of his generosity. “Thanks for the reminder, I’ll- I’ll make sure to grab something soon.”

Remus stopped by the door, tipped his head from one side to the other, pretending to think it over.

“Hm. Nah.”

Patton tried to stand, and found that he was somehow too weak for even that much.

“Remus, please, I- I can’t even eat the same stuff as you, anyway! Don’t go through all that trouble for little old me,” he was edging on frantic, and he didn’t know why he was fighting so hard against receiving needed help, but it probably had something to do with Catholicism.

Remus looked completely bewildered- a funny look, for him- and said:

“I mean, I wasn’t about to feed you hygiene products, or ceramic, or whatever. I know that I eat weird shit, Pat, that’s kind of the point- but I still know how to make a sandwich? And I know how to hold a cup under the sink so that water goes in it?”

His voice took on a gently mocking tone. Patton glanced away, sheepish, and couldn’t find a response to that beyond a short nod.

Which was all Remus needed as the go-ahead, darting out of the room and down the stairs before Patton could argue any further.

Patton stared after him, listened to him bustling around downstairs, and tried to feel comforted. He fell back against his pillows, breathing slow and concentrated. He was still shaking, with his previous exhaustion coming back full force. Some of the light-headedness, certainly, had to be due to the lack of eating, but he was unfortunately sure that it wasn’t even the half of it.

Patton was conflicted: He had to tell Remus that he was okay, as soon as he returned. Say thanks for the food, that it had helped, and they could spend time together tomorrow, Patton would promise. Get Remus away before it got bad, before the dam he’d built so carefully behind his eyes fell and the blue of them spilled out for hours.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie about his feelings- he knew it was bad for him, and he couldn’t keep doing it, not to someone’s face. Not somebody he cared about so much.

He wanted to let Remus stay, beg him to stay if he had to, just so he didn’t have to dig up all his long-buried emotions on his own. He wanted to pull him in and beg for help, even though he knew nothing had managed to help him before, and it was so futile.

When the door opened some ten minutes later, Patton didn’t sit up. He didn’t even look up, scared he’d cry if he so much as moved his eyes in his own skull.

“Hey.”

The sound of the door shutting, followed by those heavy footsteps. A soft thunk, presumably the plate of food being placed on his bedside table. Then the mattress dipped beside him, springs creaking.

“Hey,” Remus said again, “Look at me.”

Patton rolled his head tentatively to the side. Remus was sitting with him, looking at him, his expression twisted up and solemn in all the worst ways. Patton felt the dam begin to crumble.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “I know, I know that I’m no fun when I’m like this, and we were supposed to have fun today, and I just can’t do it. I can’t, I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, but if you stay here when I’m-” he broke, clamping a hand around his mouth as a sob wracked his body.. “When I’m like this, I’m just gonna ruin your day more.”

That sad look, the one that had no place being in Remus’ expression, sharpened and widened until he looked almost angry. He crawled over to Patton, prying the side’s hand away from his face and cupping his cheek, gently, all the while that scowl was in place.

“Do you want me to go?”

Patton could barely speak, knowing that he’d just blubber and blubber, but Remus was holding him up by the shoulders and peering down at him so patiently, so carefully.

“I- I-”

“Do you want to be alone?”

He couldn’t- he couldn’t keep lying.

Patton sucked in a breath.

“No.”

Remus grinned at him proudly, pulling back until he was kneeling. He spread his arms out, an offering that Patton had become intimately familiar with. Patton pulled himself up, shaking, incredulous despite the familiarity of the situation.

“Then you don’t have to be.”

And Patton pitched forward, right into Remus’ arms, clutching and crying and trembling like a leaf.

Distantly, he knew that he was still babbling apologies. Insisting that the Duke could leave as soon as he wanted, that Patton felt this way so often and he knew he couldn’t possibly expect comfort every time, a million other sentences that ran over and into each other which only seemed to make Remus clutch him tighter.

“It’s okay,” Remus told him.

“It’s- It’s not, I don’t even have a- a reason to be so-” a hiccup, “- upset. It’s not like last time, when you found me- I don’t even have a bad excuse, I’m just- just-”

“Shut the fuck up,” somehow, even that sounded caring. “Somebody as Hello Kitty Wholesome as you’s got no business saying such bad shit about himself.”

Patton tried to apologize again.

“Easy, Sugar, I’ve got you.”

Patton shuddered.

“When it gets bad like this, just tell me, alright?” Remus’ hands traced up and down his spine, across his shoulder blades, down his sides, warm and full and adoring. The smile in his voice was audible, “I’m gonna take care of you.”

And when Patton heard that, it was like a broken bone being set. Not fully mended, but held together enough that it could begin to heal the right way, of its own hard work, and come back twice as strong still. Remus held him so strong and it felt like a cast.

Patton’s breakdowns were blurred memories at best, but he couldn’t have gotten that promise out of his head even if he wanted to.

It was an achingly uneventful afternoon. Everything in the Mindpalace felt just a little out of focus, a little gray, and nothing much was going to change that except the day ending. Plain and simple, Thomas was Out Of It- and so, of course, were his sides.

On the whole it wasn’t a big deal, but it did make it downright impossible to finish any substantial work beyond menial, autopilot tasks. And creativity? Particularly for Remus, who more-or-less needed his human at full attention in order to have any creative power, it was totally hopeless.

He wasn’t the kind of guy to work on half-power, to put it mildly.

So, what did Remus do, when he had even less of an outlet than usual? It shouldn’t surprise you that the answer is literally anything, if it got people to pay attention to him and make him feel real again (which he wasn’t, actually, but let’s leave the semantics to Logan). What that usually amounted to- these days, at least- was talking, and talking, and more talking, and eventually somebody would probably react to something he said. Ideally.

So on that particular gray-day, Remus sprawled himself out on the couch and waited for the first person who came by to trap in a very one-sided conversation.

Said first person was Patton, as it happened, which was just Remus’ luck. He didn’t bother hiding how excited he was about it; Patton had always been his favorite target- of course, it was for a very, very different reason nowadays.

Patton sat down with him as soon as he was waved over, propping a coloring book open on his knee and smiling warmly. His unoccupied hand went to wind through Remus’ hair, though, to make it abundantly obvious that despite his distraction he wasn’t ignoring the other.

Remus grinned at him, and started rambling immediately.

And he- well, he wouldn’t really call it talking to himself, because he didn’t have a fucking clue what he was saying. But he wasn’t talking to Patton either, because that kinda defeats the purpose of a one-sided conversation.

Which he didn’t mind. He wasn’t even listening to himself, he just needed to talk, and Patton wasn’t complaining. Remus was probably saying something unsavory, and still, there wasn’t any kind of flinching or interrupting. Patton even mhm’d and yeah’d every now and then, which was an entirely unnecessary reassurance. But Remus thought it was adorably considerate, and briefly entertained the idea of replacing that sweet little coloring book in Patton’s lap with his own self, to get some proper attention.

(He would have, too, if he wasn’t so sure that he’d blurt out something very lewd in his stream-of-consciousness kind of mood, with a position like that, and he wasn’t sure if Patton could handle it at the moment. Morality always got a little out of whack on gray-days, too, so- loathe as Remus was to say it- better safe than sorry).

Remus fell into the rhythm of it for, what, twenty minutes? He was bad with time, but- all he knew was he was thinking about Albert Fish, and talking about an entirely different serial killer out loud (Gacy? Bundy? It was definitely someone infamous), when the hand in his hair suddenly stilled. Patton wasn’t looking at him, either.

Remus glanced around, still talking, to find Logan standing in the kitchen doorway, staring expectantly at Patton.

“I need you to accompany me outside for a moment. There’s something important that we-”

Patton cut him off with a wave, “Hang on for a second, Teach.”

Logan obliged, looking bemused, and Patton turned his attention back to the still-tangenting Remus. Who was totally checked out, for the record.

“Hey,” Patton rested a hand on his shoulder, smiling warmly, “Pause?”

And Remus, surprised, did as asked. He didn’t care about what was going on around him, but he liked that smile, and the eyes focused in on him, so he sat up properly and tried to be quiet. Especially considering those were the first actual words Patton had said to him since he’d sat down.

“I’m gonna go see what they need real quick,” Patton went on, “I’ll be back in a few minutes, and you can finish telling me about Dennis Rader then-” So that was who! “Kay?”

Remus stared mutely at him for an embarrassing number of seconds. He eventually managed a short nod, some vague utterances of yeah, sure, go ahead, before Patton was out the door with Logan, and he was left reeling on the couch.

Remus felt a little bit like worms had eaten holes in his brain like swiss cheese, leaving him airy-headed and dizzy. All his organs felt wormy, in fact- squirming and sick and excited about something that really shouldn’t have been a big deal- but! It was!!!

Cuz Patton had been listening? Remus wasn’t even listening! He was probably barely coherent, and he’d been at it for twenty fucking minutes, and- and-

God! He just wanted to grab that stupid adorable head of Patton’s and! He didn’t even know! Do Something, something disgusting in the nice way, something deplorably PG and lovey-dovey and- Ugh!

Remus buried his face in his hands and groaned. He felt like a goddamn schoolgirl- and not the hentai kind, for a change, but the hopelessly infatuated, cutesy type. Feelings that were gushy, giddy, affectionately bloody.

It was the straw that broke the camel's spine. Urges and instincts and wants that Remus hadn’t been able to name coalesced into a neon sign in his mind, flaring the answer like it’d been obvious the whole time:

Was it a crush? Remus didn’t know a better word for it, even if it wasn’t- he just knew that he was pining, and for somebody he was happy to call his friend either way. And, huh. Weird. He didn’t know he could do that.

“I’m back, I’m back!” Patton came scrambling back into the room, jolting Remus out of his thoughts, “Sorry about that, it was- well, it’s not a big deal, something happened with The Memories and- it’s fine now- anyway, what were you saying?”

He was chattering fast, even by Remus’ Standards, an apologetic smile on his face as he sat down and settled all his attention on the Duke.

Remus said: “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” and wondered if he’d always been that shrill? Or was he being too quiet? What did his voice sound like again?? “I, uh, I don’t remember what I was talking about.”

Patton frowned at him, and looked about ready to apologize again, and he couldn’t very well have that. So, he babbled:

“Right, it was Rader? Um. Yeah,” but that was so far out of his mind by that point, and how did people ever talk while saying things and thinking other things! “Not much to say, ya know. Killed some people, got arrested, the usual.”

“Since when don’t you give me the graphic details?” Patton complained, “That’s your favorite part!”

“I think I’ll spare you the nightmares this time, Morey! It’s, uhm, it’s your turn to talk.”

“Oh, hush,” and Patton laughed, shooting Remus an encouraging, coaxing smile that made him just want to debone himself. “Those serial killer stories you like so much aren’t the nightmare fuel they used to be. You know why?”

Remus felt like the inside of his skin was full of spikes. Not in a bad way.

“...Why?”

“Because,” Patton said, like he was all too eager to explain himself, “I can’t really be scared of them when the scariest thing is what’s in bed with me.”

Remus flushed. Like, actually- heat crawled across his face and over his ears, and he honestly had no clue the last time something or someone had made him blush. But Patton, acknowledging his scare-factor while somehow making it obvious he felt only safe with him, was apparently what ticked that box.

“Right,” chirped Remus, “That’s- me!”

“Of course it is, Silly,” Patton bumped their shoulders together, smiling like he had no idea what he was doing- and to be honest, he probably didn’t.

Remus drank in the contact, happily using it as an excuse to wrap his arms around Patton and pull him closer. He buried his face in Patton’s shoulder, because as far as his impulses told him, he should either get the fuck away A.S.A.P. or drag Patton in as close as possible and not let go. Obviously, Remus had a preference.

“You- uh- I was being serious though,” ugh, God, stuttering was so goddamn annoying- how did Virgil cope? “You should talk. I’m- I’m sorta overwhelmed.”

That was the truth, or part of it. Admitting it out loud at least managed to take some of the power out of it.

Patton immediately cooed at him- it should have been annoying; it wasn’t- and wrapped him up in his arms properly, muttering little of courses and do you need anything?s. Remus melted into him, finally claiming that spot in his lap (and any jokes his mind might have had about that were long gone, by then), shaking his head and glowing under the attention.

Of course Patton was happy- after making sure that Remus was alright- to do some of the talking. He talked about his day, what he wanted to do later, or tomorrow, and of cute things that he’d seen, and a hundred other inconsequential Patton-isms.

Remus was unused to sitting and listening, but with him… it wasn’t as bad as the Duke remembered it being.

Oh, he was so fucking fucked.

Chapter Nine

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @donnieluvsthings @glitter-skeleton-uwu @intruxiety @gayformlessblob @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @thefivecalls

#sanders sides #ts #intruality #qpr intruality #patton sanders #remus sanders #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction

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missmonsters2 · 5 years ago

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Leave Me Lonely

@eseqsays: Hiyo! May I request 12 and 17 with Natasha Romanoff x Reader please? I am in the mood to hurt. @marvelouschloe: Natasha x reader. 13 and 20 (angst)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Prompt Request: @yourmainlove, @eseqsays, @marvelouschloe 💗

- 12: I don’t even care that you’re breaking me. I am an absolute fucking moron because I’m always going to love you. - 13: We’re falling apart, and you don’t even care! - 14: I can’t keep pretending like I’m okay with being just your friend when I want you in my bed. - 17: I want you to say anything! Scream! Yell at me! Just something to show you fucking care. - 20: If you walk out that door, we’re done.

Notes: Thank you for sending these in! I hope you don’t mind that I’ve combined some of them as they’re similar and just fit perfectly in this story!

Warnings: Angsty angst sadness :(

Count: 3469

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“If you walk out that door, we’re done.”

You stood before the door, hand on the knob, throat burning but refusing to let any more tears fall.

Because you’ve had enough.

A part of you isn’t sure exactly what caused everything to lead up to this moment because you had believed in forever beforehand.

Because you love Natasha.

And now, everything was gone, and you can’t tell whose fault it was.

Maybe it was Natasha’s fault for being a coward.

Maybe it was yours for believing forever could exist between the two of you.

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A month earlier...

“Oh my god, shut up!” You playfully said as you slapped Natasha on the shoulder, the redhead laughing so hard you thought you could see tears in her eyes.

“I can’t believe you jumped so hard,” Natasha said between her laughter. You rolled your eyes, shifted your legs, so it rested better against Natasha’s lap.

It was movie night, and the two of you always got together alone to watch whatever movie one of you picked.

Natasha picked a horror movie knowing full well you were terrible with them. The number of times you jumped into her arms or hid under the blanket, eyes just peeing over the edge amused her to no ends.

“It’s scary!” You defended yourself.

“We’ve fought literal aliens over the years and other freaky stuff, and you’re scared of this horror movie?” Natasha snorted.

“Yeah,” you said. “And you know what we’ve never fought? Ghosts. This shit is freaky.”

Natasha only snorted softly again but didn’t say anything as the two of you resumed watching the movie.

It was silent, only the movie playing as you two focused on the screen. Natasha had her hands on your legs, stroking softly at your shin idly.

It made you warm.

Eventually, you had shifted, so the two of you were lying on the couch with Natasha on the inside. Her hand rested against your hips, drawing light circles over your exposed skin.

It was bringing goosebumps.

But it wasn’t anything new.

Even with the movie playing, your mind wandered to Natasha.

It’s been like this for two years. You were new to the team when you first came, difficult for you to adjust as you never had anybody to rely on before.

Working in the team dynamic was new for you too.

It took time, but Natasha was someone you trained a lot with, and she took her time, never rushing you to open up.

The friendship was initially slow, but before the two of you knew it, it grew into something more.

But at the same time, not enough.

The two of you were friends, there was no doubt about it. You would die for her without a second thought, and you knew she would do the same for you.

But it was like there was this invisible barrier that kept the two of you from being more.

Sure, you could touch her. You could hold her hand, stroke her skin, or lean your head on her. But you couldn’t sleep with her or kiss her.

You could tell her you love her, but never that you were in love with her.

These were boundaries that were set up by Natasha, so maybe the barrier wasn’t that invisible.

But she never slept with anyone else, never dated anyone else.

So, this was enough for you for now.

Forever doesn’t need to be rushed.

Plus, you were pretty sure things would go south if you confessed or cornered Natasha anytime soon.

“That was an awful movie.”

Natasha’s voice broke you out of your thought, her breath on your exposed ear made you shiver lightly.

You noticed the movie ended.

“You picked it,” you teased her and Natasha rolled her eyes with a smile.

She fully wrapped her arm around your waist and pulled you close.

“Right,” she drawled. “Your turn to pick something, then, and no TV shows.”

“Why not!” You whined, earning a chuckle from the redhead.

“You pick TV shows that are entirely too interesting, and I cannot afford to binge-watch something this late, not when Steve wants us at the training room by 6AM tomorrow.”

You groaned, letting your head fall back slightly.

“Maybe we should head to bed then,” you sullenly say, thinking about how tired you were going to be in the morning.

Natasha sighed but nodded, but neither of you made a move to get up.

“Are you staying the night again?” Natasha asked, tapping her finger lightly on your stomach.

“Mhm,” you hummed, eyes closed. “Unless you’re kicking me out tonight.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Natasha tells you softly, and you grin. She shifts a little, and it’s a sign for you to get up.

You stretch as you do, shirt riding up and you see from the corner of your eye that it catches Natasha’s attention.

You smirk a little before heading off to the washroom.

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The next week is busy as you’re busy training the new agents with Steve and Natasha was sent on a mission with Clint.

“Alright! That’s enough for the day, go hit the showers,” Steve yells, and the agents sigh in relief before shuffling out the door one by one.

Once everyone is gone, you chuckle a little bit as you take a chug of water.

“What?” Steve asks you with a slight quirk in his lips and raised brow.

“Nothing, just Amber giving you the bedroom eyes while training is hilarious.”

“What?” Steve exclaims while the tip of his ears flushes slightly as he drinks water himself.

“C’mon, you’re telling me you don’t notice her giving off the feral pheromones every day this week?”

Steve starts coughing, which makes you laugh even more.

“Like you’re one to talk,” he grumbles.

“What do you mean?” You ask as your laugh dies down.

Steve rolls his eyes, shifting his weight onto one leg.

“Like you’re not eyeing Natasha like she’s a drop of water and you’ve been stranded in the Sahara desert.”

You slapped Steve, who jumped out the way with a laugh.

“Oh my god, I do not!” You blushed.

Steven just laughed even more before the two of you settled down.

“But seriously, why don’t you just move your relationship with her to the next level. It’s obvious the two of you are crazy about each other. I haven’t seen Natasha like that...well, since ever.”

You merely shrug.

“I just...I don’t know. I don’t think we’re there yet.”

“But you want to be there,” Steve points out.

The conversation is almost making you uncomfortable because you’ve never gotten the chance to speak about how you felt about Natasha.

“I...I like where we are now,” you tell Steve who just gives you a crooked grin.

“Why are you holding back?”

You merely smile.

“There’s no need to rush forever.”

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Later that day, you see Natasha talking to Clint and Bruce, and you smile as you walk up to them.

“Hey!” You greet happily. “You made it back!”

Natasha just merely smiles.

“Well,” you drag. “It’s movie night. I’ll catch you at your place later?”

“No, I’m actually busy tonight,” Natasha diverts. Before you can say anything, someone calls her name, and she turns and leaves.

You stand there staring at Clint and Bruce, confusion written all over your face.

“Okay, that was weird, right?” You say to them, and they looked confused too.

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Natasha is avoiding you.

You’re not sure why.

But she is.

And everyone knows it too.

You’re wondering if you did something to make her mad, but in the past, Natasha had no problem calling you out if you did something to upset her.

Every time you try to talk to her, she manages to escape. If she sees you down the hall, suddenly she has to go the other way.

There were no more movie nights.

She wasn’t in her room at night.

It was frustrating the hell out of you.

And one day, you just had enough.

So, after a training session with Steve and everyone left, you cornered Natasha.

“Okay, what gives?”

Natasha seems shocked that you’ve trapped and confronted her.

“What do you mean?” She asks as if nothing is wrong.

“Why are you avoiding me?” You frown.

“I’m not avoiding you,” Natasha denies, trying to walk around you but you block her again.

“See! Like that, you’re avoiding me.”

Natasha doesn’t say anything, but you can tell she is getting frustrated herself the way her forehead crinkles.

“Just...did I do something? Just tell me if I did something and I’ll fix it.”

“It’s nothing you did,” Natasha tries to tell you but you cut her off again.

“Well, why are you avoiding me like I have the bubonic plague? Every time I try to talk to you, you leave. When you see me coming in your direction, you turn somewhere else. You’ve canceled movie nights two nights in a row now.”

“Are you done?” Natasha asked, rather callously.

You tilt your head back in a surprised manner from her tone.

“No, I’m not done actually,” you tell her, feeling the anger rise up in you a little bit. “I don’t know what your problem is, but if you have something to say, just say it because I don’t deserve how you’re treating me.”

“I don’t have anything to say!” Natasha says, frustratedly at you.

“Then why are you treating me like this!”

“I’m not treating you like anything! If I don’t want to talk to you or don’t want to hang out with you all the time, there’s nothing wrong with that. You’re the one who’s making a big deal out of it.”

The callous words hit you in the gut, and Natasha can tell.

It leaves you breathless.

She starts to call your name, but you cut her off.

“You’re right,” you say, clearing your throat because it feels like it’s closing up.

“My bad. Do whatever you want, Nat.”

You try your best to sound normal as your turn and leave.

Natasha stands alone in the room, more frustrated than before and groans.

She was really fucking this up.

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The next week, it’s you who avoids Natasha.

Though, you’re trying to be less obvious about it. You’ll stay and chat in a big group, even if Natasha is there. You don’t run the opposite direction if you see her coming. You merely give her a tight smile and keep walking.

The only painful thing about it is that Natasha doesn’t seem to be making an effort to corner you as you did to her.

It sucks.

It hurts.

“You should just talk to her again,” Steve encourages you. It’s already late at night, and you look pathetic drinking at the bar alone, but you feel as sad as you look.

But you sigh and stand up because Steve is right.

“Wish me luck,” you mumble.

You make your way to Natasha’s room, your nerves out of whack as you try to pep talk yourself that everything is fine.

You’re going to talk to Natasha, it’ll be heartfelt, and you’ll get down to the bottom of whatever it is, apologize, and makeup.

Everything will be fine is what you tell yourself as you stand in front of her door.

You take a deep breath and release heavily before knocking.

There’s giggling on the other side of the room that makes you cock your brow.

You knock more loudly and incessantly.

Then the door swings open and you see Natasha standing there, looking slightly disheveled and breathless.

“What is it?” She asks you like she doesn’t have time for you.

It stings, but you need to push on.

“I just want to talk,” you try to say disarmingly as not to make her defensive.

“It’s not a good time,” Natasha tells you, the door blocking your view from anything else.

“Then make time,” you say non-negotiably.

Natasha is about to say something else, but then there’s another voice in the back.

“Natasha? Who’s there? Hurry and come back! It’s getting pretty cold without your body.”

The annoying giggle in there again.

For a moment, you’re incensed, and you push the door open anyway even though it’s clear Natasha doesn’t want you inside.

You see one of the new agents sitting there, top off but bra still on with wine and cheese on the table.

You turn back to Natasha.

“What the hell is this?”

You may not be dating, but you both know you’re not just friends.

And this feels like a swift betrayal in your stomach. It drops when you see a dark red mark on the new agent’s neck.

Natasha doesn’t say anything, so you turn back to the new agent.

“Leave,” you scowl.

The new agent picks up her shirt, scurrying away while Natasha sighs.

“That was unnecessary,” she says as she straightens out her clothing.

“What you’re doing is unnecessary!” You shoot back at her.

“I don’t understand,” you say softly. “Three weeks ago, everything was fine, and now we’re falling apart, and you don’t even care. What’s changed?”

Natasha shifts uncomfortably.

“We’re friends,” she tells you, and you look confused.

“Yes,” you agree, not sure what Natasha is leading with.

“That’s it,” she tells you, and the realization hits you like a truck.

“Oh my god,” you groan. “You heard Steve and me talking that one time, didn’t you?”

“I came back early,” she tells you, but you know she means that she was eavesdropping.

“Well, we are friends. I told him I like what we have now.” You’re trying to peddle back because it’s obvious this has set Natasha off like you knew it would.

“For now it is,” Natasha agrees, “but you want more. I can’t give you that.”

You sigh.

“Nat, I’m not asking you to give me more. You give me plenty as it is right now.”

“No,” Natasha injects. “I can’t give you anything more. Ever.”

The words make you furrow your brows because yes, you believed that Natasha just needed more time to adjust to being more, to come to terms that she loved you.

“You can’t seriously be telling me you think we’re just friends,” you say to her.

“I don’t know what you want me to say to that.”

“I want you to say anything! Scream! Yell at me! Just something to show you fucking care!” You tell her, putting your hand to your forehead.

“Friends don’t touch like we do, don’t stare at each other like we do, don’t get jealous the way we do.”

“I’ve never been jealous,” Natasha denies, and you scoff with a roll of your eyes.

“Right, so four weeks ago when you beat the shit out of the new agent Darren during training for flirting with me, that was just a coincidence?”

Natasha doesn’t say anything.

It’s so frustrating, her standing there like none of it matters.

Like you don’t matter.

“I’m not asking that we change anything right away, but don’t stand there and lie to yourself that you don’t have feelings for me,” you tell her softly and Natasha bristles.

“You’re being delusional if you think we’re more than friends,” Natasha stands her ground firmly.

You’re not sure why, but it pisses you off.

Because if she thinks you’re just friends, why does she treat you the way she does?

Why does she hold you during movie night, seek you out in the crowds, hold your hand softly, let you in her bed?

Why would she go and show you all the different sides of her?

“You’re delusional if you think we aren’t,” you fire back at her, taking a step towards her.

Natasha stands in one place, but you can tell she’s nervous.

“I love you,” you confess to her. “I’m in love with you, Nat. I have been, for a while now.”

The words make Natasha shut her eyes painfully.

“Don’t,” she warns you, but you press on.

“And I know you’re in love with me too. I’m not saying we have to date, but all I’m asking is that you acknowledge we’re different.”

“Why is this not good enough for you!” Natasha finally blows up. “What we have is so good, can’t you see that? No one has it as good as we do.”

“What we have can be better.”

“There is no better!” Natasha yells at you. “In our line of work, this is as good as it gets. Being in a relationship makes you vulnerable. Enemies knowing our vulnerabilities makes us an easy target. It’s not the same as Clint, where I can just hide you from the rest of the world. We both belong to our responsibilities.”

“Nothing hasn’t even happened yet!”

“And nothing will, because what we have stays as it is, or we have nothing at all.”

Natasha has a finality to her tone, but you don’t accept it.

“You say that as if in this very moment, or even if we try to go back to nothing, that if I die, it won't affect you. It’s too late, Nat, you’re already in love with me! We deserve happiness too.”

“I was happy, why weren’t you?” Natasha asks, almost tiredly.

“I was,” you tell her softly, “but eventually, I can’t keep pretending like I’m okay with being just your friend when I want you in my bed.”

“And what?” Natasha asks you harshly. “Because I can’t give you what you want, you’re going to leave me?”

You shake your head. “I am fine with being just your friend if that’s what you truly felt about me. But you don’t.”

“But that’s what I’m choosing.”

Tears well up in your eyes, a gnawing in your stomach that tells you you’re being foolish.

“You’re a coward,” you tell her, voice raw as it stings in the back of your throat.

“You’re so scared of being happy for once, to get what you truly want because you think you don’t deserve it. Well, newsflash, Nat, you deserve the world and more, and I wish you’d let yourself feel that.”

“I’m not worth it, this far in and I’m already breaking you,” Natasha says with a shake of her head.

She just wants you to concede, so everything can go back to the way it was.

She doesn’t know how to tell you, yes, she is in love with you too. But she can live with only being your friend.

Because she won’t survive if she knows what your lips feel like, how soft your body feels, the way you’d tremble underneath her as she takes you, the way you’d taste, and the way you’d look as she brings you over the edge and it all went away.

Whether you die on a mission, her enemies got to you, or somehow you’d fall out of love with her and leave her.

It was so selfish of her, but she scared of more.

You’re right, she is a coward.

You merely shake your head, tears falling from your eyes and it’s terrible for Natasha to see and be the cause of it.

“This was incredibly stupid,” you say, voice trembling. “I don’t even care that you’re breaking me. I am an absolute fucking moron because I’m always going to love you. But that isn’t enough for you to want more, is it?”

You don’t even wait for Natasha to answer as you walk past her.

“Wait--”

“You’re right, I’m an asshole because I’m not fine with just being your friend. I can’t stand here and pretend with you that everything is alright, that’s I’m not in love with you, and you’re not in love with me, that you’re not deliberately just choosing to ignore everything.” You tell her as you put your hand on the knob.

Natasha panics.

Sirens are going off in her head because she just knows that if you walk out that door, she’s going to lose you forever.

That the two of you will really be nothing, and Natasha realizes that maybe she can’t live with that either.

“If you walk out that door, we’re done.”

Those are the wrong words, and Natasha doesn’t know why it slipped out of her mouth.

But she feels her heart breaking too, and she doesn’t know how to get you to stay.

She can only see your back, but Natasha hears a humorless chuckle as you turn the knob.

“We were already done.”

You leave the room, the door shutting with a soft click.

Perhaps that was as good as it could get, but neither of you realized that it could get worse too.

You pressed your lips together, walking down the empty hallway.

Forever did exist, you think, just not the way you thought it would.

#mm: my fics #natasha romanoff x reader #Natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x ofc #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov imagine #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #Avengers #avengers imagine #Avengers AU #avengers reader insert #Modern Avengers AU #MCU #genre: angst #prompt request

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holdin-out-for-a-hero · 5 years ago

Text

Rookie- Leon Kennedy X Reader Ch.13 part 1

Warnings: none

A/N: this chapter was so long that tumblr couldn’t handle it. Anyways, thank you all for reading, I’m gonna make a long gushy post about this series ending.

Hanging up the phone, you wiped the tears from your eyes. You just had to make the hardest phone call ever. Telling your brother that your parents were dead was not something you ever expected to do. And to be speechless when he asked "how, why?"

You told him it was a virus that brought down the city, but didn't mention the zombies. He couldn't handle knowing that, if he even believed it in the first place.

You turned back around at the three others sharing your hotel room, and they all looked away as if they hadn't heard a thing you just said on the call. They really sucked at acting.

You went to the bathroom to calm down. Splashing cold water on your face, you hoped it would alleviate the redness on your nose and around your eyes. You held onto the sink, closing your eyes and taking a few breaths. Even though you were out of raccoon city, out of danger, you weren't out of the words just yet. You had a feeling that no matter how much time had passed, you would never be done with raccoon city. But you didn't want to think about that. Once your face had returned to a normal color, you stepped out of the bathroom.

Just as you entered the room, there was a knock at the door. Claire opened the door to see the woman from the front desk.

"I thought you all might want to look through this," the woman began, entering your room without permission and laying a box onto one of the beds, "This is the lost and found bin. Feel free to keep whatever you want, it's been collecting dust for years. You all need it more than anybody."

You looked down at your clothes and knew what she meant.

"Alright, I'll leave you to it," she said, making her way to the door, "if you need anything, let me know."

"Oh!" Claire got the woman's attention, "We could use some more of those little soaps and towels!"

The woman nodded, and turned around, before turning back and saying, "And be careful, there might be some freaky stuff in there. None of us employees have the nerve to go through it." How reassuring, you thought. The woman then left.

And with that, you, Leon, and Claire began looking through the box. While there were a few nasty things, there was some good stuff too. There were a lot of large shirts, perfect for sleeping in and just long enough that you'd be ok if you couldn't find any pants. There was one pair that could possibly fit you, but you let Claire have them because you already picked out a shirt that went down to your knees. Leon was having a much easier time with this, as most of the clothing actually fit him. The issue for all of you, though, was undergarments. This wasn't a wardrobe, this was just a collection of items left behind, so there weren't many options. There were no bras, but you figured a tank top under the T-Shirt might make it a little less obvious that you didn't have one on. At least you hoped that would work.

You held up a pair of lacy underwear with your index finger, eyebrows raising. Claire laughed.

"It's an option," you said.

"You seriously considering it?" She asked.

"Yes I am, I've been stuck in the same pair all week. I have no other option. Unless of course you want them."

"I'd rather go commando."

Claire sifted through the box a little more, then lifted her hands, giving up.

"Screw it, that's what I'm gonna do!"

Leon lifted up a large pair of dirty boxer briefs, dropping them back down with a scowl on his face.

"Me too."

You laughed quietly; you never thought you would have this conversation, especially with two people who were basically strangers. But the three of you have been through too much for anything to be awkward anymore.

The woman once again bust into your room, towels in her hand this time. You panicked and dropped the lacy underwear in your hands, earning another laugh from Claire and Leon.

She gave you a weird look before dropping the towels and soaps on the bed, too, before making her leave.

"Who gets the shower first?" Leon asked, unknowingly creating tension between the three of you. Claire looked to you, then to Leon, and then to Sherry.

"Sherry," she said, and you all could agree on that.

"When was the last time each of you showered? Cause I haven't showered since the 22nd" you said, raising a brow. As it was now the 30th, you figured you had won second place.

"You go next," Claire sighed. She then looked to Leon.

"Ladies first," he smiled at her. So it was settled, Sherry would go first, then you, then Claire, and then Leon.

Sherry went to take her shower, while Leon and Claire dug into some of the food you had just bought. You didn't realize how hungry you were until Leon opened a bag of chips, and as if on cue, your stomach growled.

"Hand me the bag," you said to Leon. He lifted up his chip bag to you. "No, I mean the grocery bag."

He leaned over the table to grab it and handed it to you, and you thanked him. So, your first meal in a long time was a stick of beef jerky and a little Debbie snack cake. How nutritious. Still, it was satisfying to your starving stomach. So you, Leon, and Claire made a full meal out of gas station garbage food, quickly depleting the bag of its contents. You all had to stop yourselves, though, so that Sherry would have some too.

Claire moved from her place at the table and moved to a spot on the bed next to you, turning on the TV.

"I hope something good is on," she said to herself. You watched silently as she flipped though the channels, eyes widening once she passed the news channel.

"Go back," you said, getting closer to the tv. She did as you told her, though confused.

"Congress has decided to send a missile to end the deadly viral outbreak in Raccoon city," A news reporter said. Then, it cut to a press conference, where an important politician made a statement.

"This decision was not an easy one, but in order to ensure the safety of the rest of the nation, we are doing what has to be done."

You stood frozen, as did Claire and Leon, who had just tuned in. The air in the room was thick, so thick that you couldn't take a big enough breath. Your hands started to shake in front of you, so you balled them into fists to hide it. Luckily for you, though, Sherry opened the bathroom door and walked out; it was your turn now, and you wasted no time to get behind the safety of the bathroom door so that they wouldn't see you break down. You closed the door a little too loud behind you, cursing to yourself because you didn't mean to draw so much attention to yourself.

You turned on the water and stripped yourself of the dirty clothes that clung to your skin. You looked down at the pile below you: you would definitely be throwing those away. After that thought, you mind went back to what was plaguing it.

You couldn't believe it. While you understood it and knew it had to be done, you just couldn't accept that Raccoon City would be no more. Your hometown was gonna get blown off the map.

You stepped into the shower, barely feeling the scalding hot water on your skin.

Your friends, family, colleagues: dust in the wind.

You sat down on the floor of the tub, watching the water around you turn muddy.

The playgrounds you used to love as a kid, the stores you shopped at, places you visited: all gone.

You wanted to scream, to let out those emotions constantly bubbling up in your chest, but you couldn't. Not with Claire and Leon and Sherry so near. You had to be strong, you were the oldest, the most experienced. You couldn't break down. Not yet. But it was so hard to keep it in once you knew that every aspect of your past, your life, would be wiped clean.

Just like your body in this shower, your entire life was washing away in front of you. There was no way to stop it, though. And pretty soon, your emotions shut down. You've never been more thankful for numbness in your life. It helped you focus on the task at hand, washing your hair, then your wounds, and then the rest of your body.

You knew you couldn't stay in the shower forever; Leon and Claire still had to go, and you didn't want to steal them of hot water. You turned the shower off, and stepped out onto the floor mat. Drying your body off, you wondered how long it had been since your skin was clean. It had been at least a week, you thought, and you wondered how Leon could have ever been attracted to you with you smelling like sweat and blood. Maybe because he started smelling like sweat and blood, too.

You looked down at the clothes below you. You had grabbed a tank top, a very large t-shirt, and the lacy underwear. Someone else's lacy underwear. You debated what was worse: wearing someone else's clean lingerie or your own underwear that you had worn all week. Neither choice was a winning option, but you opted for the stranger's underwear, as it was actually clean. If you had found a pair of pants, you would've gone commando, but that wasn't really an option. You slid them on along with the tank top.

Studying your bite in the mirror, you were so thankful to be immune. You remembered a document from umbrella's lab, it said that approximately 10% of the population was naturally immune to the virus. And you were lucky enough to be one of those people. But so many other people were not as lucky.

The bite didn't look too bad anymore and didn't need to be covered with a bandage, so you slid on the long T-Shirt. You were right, it did go below your knees. You looked down at your legs, and then to the bite on your calf; it had healed up so much that it barely looked like a bite anymore, it looked more like a scrape, which meant you wouldn't scare anybody with it.

You dried your hair and face with the towel, working up the courage to leave the bathroom. You did have an accidentally dramatic exit, so you knew it would be awkward. Still, you had to bite the bullet. Hanging up the towel and picking up your clothes, you headed out the door.

"So, should we make a dirty clothes pile?" You asked, trying to sound as casual as you could. They were still glued to the TV, but Claire snapped out of it and showed you the hamper that was in the closet.

"You're up," you said to her.

"You saved me some hot water, right?" She asked, her smile, though, seemed fake.

"I'm not evil."

She laughed, and headed towards the bathroom.

You sat down next to Sherry on the bed that she and Claire would share. She was watching the TV as well, eyes glued to it just like Leon. It was still the news, and the story was still Raccoon City.

"When's it gonna happen?" You asked Leon.

"Tomorrow at noon," he said, his voice muffled because his jaw rested on his hand.

"Do you mind if we turn this off," you asked. You didn't want to hear anymore and you had a feeling Sherry didn't either. She was like you in that she had her whole life in Raccoon city.

Leon looked over to you and sherry, noticing the same expression on both of your faces. Was it grief? Fear? Disbelief? He couldn't tell. He flipped through the channels until he found something more Sherry-friendly, finally settling on cartoons.

The feeling of dread came back; you knew you were not out of the woods yet. Something was about to happen, and you felt it. You just had no idea what that event would be. But you felt it in your bones. You remembered the flash drive, still tucked into your wallet. An instinct told you to hide it, to make sure it doesn't get into the wrong hands. Again, you didn't know why, you didn't even know who would count as the wrong hands. You just knew that it wasn't safe in your hands. At least not now.

Then you had an idea, but it was a risk, and it wouldn't be the permanent hiding place for the flashdrive. Still, you figured no one would find it for a while. You spotted the lost and found box, it's mildly disturbing contents displayed in their fully glory. The woman who brought it in said she never looked in it, you figured no one else would, either.

You stood up, grabbing the box and putting it on the table. Then, you took the flash drive from your wallet and put it in the pocket of a shirt and wrapped it into a ball. You stuck it at the bottom of the box. You then situated the clothes on top, making sure the nastiest, most questionable things were on full display so that no one would have the nerve to go through it.

"Do you think we're done with this?" You asked Leon. He looked up from the TV again.

"Think so," he began, "I certainly don't want to touch anything in that box again."

"I don't want to keep looking at it either, I'll take it back to the front desk," you replied. Holding the box against your hip, you opened the front door and walked out into the open air. The sun was now setting, casting a beautiful glow along the plains around you. The late-September chill was finally catching up to the area, making your bare-legged self speed walk to the lobby. You opened the door, smiling at the woman at the front desk, before putting the box on the counter, saying a brief thanks, and leaving.

As you re-entered the room, you noticed Claire had finished her shower and put her clothes in the hamper on top of yours. Leon had entered the bathroom now, and you could hear the shower running again through the wall.

Leon must have known that since he was the last one to shower, he could take his time. And that's exactly what he did. He took so long, in fact, that you forgot he was still in the bathroom, and you, needing to pee, walked in.

You opened the door and took a step inside before you froze at the sight of Leon. From the other room, Claire tried to warn you but it was too late. He had his pants on, thank God, but you still caught him shirtless.

"Im so sorry!" You said, hand over your mouth. You were sure your face was bright red. You turned back to walk out.

"Wait," he said. You looked back at him, confused. "Can you help me with my shoulder? I'm having trouble wrapping it one-handed."

So you stayed in the cramped, steamy bathroom with him. He leaned against the sink while you blotted his bullet wound with disinfectant. You remembered when he got shot, all the emotions that went through your head as you watched him writhe in pain. The panic must have kept you from thinking straight, because you never checked to see if the bullet went through or if it was still imbedded in his shoulder. You turned his back slightly to look, and luckily there was an exit wound. When you got to cleaning the back, though, he winced under your touch.

"You ok?" You asked, pulling the pad of alcohol away from his skin.

"I'm fine," he said, "But you could kiss it better." The man turned to watch your expression, that stupid smirk on his face again.

And you, being completely burnt out, thought that was the funniest thing you had ever heard.

"Your bullet wound?" You said between giggles, "You want me to kiss your bullet wound? Will that make it all better?"

"Actually, I think I know of a better place for that kiss to go," he said, leaning forward.

"Really? And where's that?" You asked. He tapped his lips. You pulled away.

"Let me finish your shoulder, first. Then I'll see what I can do."

The man pouted as you turned him once again and grabbed the role of gauze. You began wrapping the bandages around his shoulder. This time was much different than the first time, though, because this time you weren't sobbing your eyes out and Ada wasn't judging you the whole time. Once his shoulder was wrapped, you placed a kiss on top of the bandage.

Leon cleared his throat, tapping his lips once again. Your rolled your eyes, but relented.

Your lips met his again, gentle and slow as ever. He grabbed you by your waist, pulling you closer, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You knew that man had you whipped. As you separated, Leon took your arm.

"And how's your shoulder?" He asked.

"It's not that deep of a wound, actually. It barely broke the skin," you showed him the bite wound, which was mostly a bruise now, there were a few scabbed places, though.

"How about your stomach?"

"Same thing, wasn't that deep," you said, almost lifting your shirt up to show him until your remembered that you only had a lacy thong underneath. Thank God you caught yourself, he’d didn’t need to see all that just yet...

"Hey, uh, I don't want to interrupt anything but Sherry needs to get in there," Claire said from behind the door.

The two of you walked out of the bathroom, trying, and failing, to act as if nothing had happened.

Although it was only around eight when everyone was done showering, the hectic night before combined with the lack of sleep and adrenal fatigue meant you all were too exhausted to stay up any longer. It was probably the earliest you'd ever gone to sleep, you thought, yet you were so relieved for it. And even though all four of you would later fight nightmares, insomnia, and varying degrees of PTSD, this night was perfectly peaceful. For the last time in your life, sleep came easily.

#leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil 2 #resident evil

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wordsfromthesol · 5 years ago

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Forever Together…Hopefully Not. (2/2)

Author: @wordsfromthesol

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Red Hood asks for your help on a case, but things go sideways quickly and now the two of you are closer than ever before.

Warnings: Language (when is it not?), implied smut

Word Count: 1.7k

Part One

You had just agreed to suffer locked to each other for 24 hours in hopes of the spell wearing off. The next day the two of you tried to do as little as humanly possible. Jason propped a barstool for you to sit on while he cooked breakfast. After that, the two of you sat there reading or watching tv until Jason got a call from Dick.

“Alfred is expecting you in an hour. You know he’s the last one you want to piss off Jaybird.”

“I’m in kind of…a unique situation here Dick. Not sure I can make it.”

“Find a way. Or the next time Alfred will be knocking on your door.”

Hearing half the conversation was enough for you, “Jason. No. There’s no way we are going.”

“Listen, you were going to have to meet them sooner or later, Y/N/N.”

“Uhm, why?”

“I can only keep you off Batman’s radar for so long…”

“Why would…he’s your dad isn’t he.”

“The one and only.”

“Alright, but can we try to keep,” you raised your joined wrists, “this to ourselves. I don't need any more charity.” You lowered your voice and mumbled, “you’ve already given me plenty.” Thankfully Jason was too caught up with how the two of you were going to pull this off to hear your comment. You had always felt like Jason’s charity case, especially after you found out he was the lost Wayne heir. You hadn’t even told him your last name, though you were pretty sure he knew it.

The ride to the Manor was a silent one, Alfred had sent a car, so at least you didn’t have to endure the bike again. I can’t believe I’m doing this. What are we even going to say? Should we get our stories straight? Your thoughts were racing but you couldn’t bring yourself to form any words. Just as you turned into the gate Jason turned to you.

“So, they probably already know who you are. Especially after Dick met you. But you don’t have to tell them your…side business, if you don’t want to.”

“If I don’t, what are you going to say?”

“That I brought a friend. I’m very good at directing the subject elsewhere.”

You nodded, Jason was the only one you’ve ever told your identity to and you kind of wanted to keep it that way. It made the secret more special. The car pulled up to the door and Jason got out, with you in tow, and didn’t bother to knock but instead call out as he waltzed in.

“Alright, Alf, I caved! You got me here.”

You watched as an older man walked into the hallway, “Master Jason. How good of you to join us. You brought a friend?”

“Yeah, I thought she could make the night more bearable…with dad.” He winked at Alfred and began to walk to the dining room, you had no choice but to closely follow behind him. You grabbed his wrist to stop him before Alfred was out of sight.

“Sorry for his rudeness, I’m Y/N!” You called out before Jason continued walking.

He whispered, “Don’t volunteer information, rookie.”

You scoffed at him, “This isn’t an interrogation Jason, it’s dinner with your family.”

“A dinner where I hope to avoid vigilante talk. You come quite in handy for that.”

The two of you took your seats at the empty table, “Well then now you owe me two.”

“Two?!”

You side-eyed him, “The grappling hook incident.”

Jason let out a laugh remembering the startled look on your face as the two of you soared through the air, as Dick entered the room.

“What, couldn’t get rid of her?”

“Get rid of who Dickiebird?” Jason played the innocent victim and put his hand to his chest.

Dick gave the two of you a knowing smile and sat beside you, just as Tim and Damian came stumbling in.

“I had you!” Damian exclaimed.

“If you had me, it’s only because I let you.” Tim retorted.

“I call for a rematch –” Damian stopped short as his eyes fell on you. “Todd seems to have brought company.”

Jason shrugged, “Thought a buffer might be a good thing. Keep things…civilized.”

Two pairs of eyes shot in your direction, as if asking you to elaborate, but you headed Jason’s earlier warning and did not offer up any information. Dick, however, could tell what was happening and simply laughed. Bruce walked in and took a seat, his eyes never leaving you.

“Jason, I thought we could talk about family matters tonight.”

“Why do you think I brought her, Old Man?”

“Hm, perhaps after dinner then.”

“I don’t know,” a huge grin formed on his face, “I’m kind of attached to her.”

You quickly brought you free hand to cover your mouth as a laugh escaped. Though the rest of the boys just looked around confused.

“I’m sure you can spare a few minutes later.”

“Just for you Brucie, I’ll try. But I’ve found it quite difficult to have her not at my side.”

You were pleasantly surprised by the rest of the dinner. In fact, you don’t even think any of them asked your name, though Alfred did address you by it when he entered the dining room. As it came time to leave, you looked down at your watch and sorrow spread through your features.

“Something wrong, Y/N?” Dick noticed your sudden change in demeanor.

You looked at Jason, “24 hours,” as you tried pulling your wrist from his.

“Fuck.” He turned to Bruce, “Well Brucie, looks like we might get that talk afterwards.”

Tim, Damian, and Dick all looked up in surprise. “I’m sorry Jason, did you just agree to chat with Bruce?” Tim questioned.

“Well, you see. Me and the misses here are in a bit of a predicament –”

“Don’t call me that.” You huffed.

“We may be kinda stuck together.” He held up your wrists and tried to pull them a part, forcing you to be pulled and knock into him.

“Really?”

“Easiest way was to show them.”

“Jason, how did this happen? She’s a civilian.” You could hear the tension in Bruce’s words.

“Hate to break it to you, but I don’t think she is,” Dick piped in and looked at you, “Aurora, right? So that’s why you two were so close last night. By force.” Dick let out another laugh.

You rolled your eyes, getting annoyed with his amusement in the situation, “Yes.”

“It’s done, so whatever. Tim, can you –” Jason began.

“Already done. She’ll be here soon.”

“Who will?” You questioned, your vigilante stint had been short, and you didn’t tend to wander outside of Gotham. Before anyone could answer, Zatanna walked into the living room.

“Got yourself in some trouble, huh Jay?”

“Can you fix it, Z?” Jason looked at her with hope in his eyes. She took both of your hands in hers and mumbled some words.

“In time, though I think it might be easier for the two of you to do it yourselves.”

“Don’t you think we would’ve if we could’ve?” You scoffed at the unknown person in the room.

“Ha, well maybe if you understood how. It’s simple really, kind of a freaky Friday thing. You just have to understand the other’s point of view.” She waved her hand, “If that’s just too impossible I should have a reversal spell in…48 hours.”

“Two days?! Are you kidding me? I can��t be attached to him for 48 more hours!” You turned to look at Jason, who actually seemed hurt by your outburst.

“Well, then maybe try talking to each other…like a normal couple.” A mischievous smiled adorned her lips.

“We are not –” You didn’t finish your statement before she had vanished.

The two of you somehow made it out of the manor and back to your apartment before Jason spoke again.

“Am I really that bad?” His voice sounded defeated as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Wha…no... I just…” You couldn’t think of the words you wanted to, especially when he still looked like a wounded puppy. The two of you stood in silence in your entry way until you watched his features shift.

“Why won’t you just talk to me?!” He turned his back to you and began walking to the bedroom, forgetting that you were forced to follow him until you let out a small yelp.

“Jay!” He turned and realized he was nearly dragging you behind him.

“Sorry…I forgot.”

You sighed, finally giving in. “I’m tired okay. I’m tired of being your charity case. I’m tired of having to ask you for help. I’m tired of…of not being good enough for you.” You watched as his face contorted with confusion.

“Why would you…why would you ever think that?”

“Why else would you help me? Because you feel bad for me.”

“I started helping you because I saw myself. You could hold your own in a fight no problem, but there’s so much more to it than that. I recognized the drive and more importantly, the recklessness.” He took your hands in his. “Then the more I got to know you, the more I did worry. I don’t know what I would do if you were hurt, so I kept you close. I want you to ask for my help, then I can make sure you’re being safe and being smart.” He scoffed, more to himself than to you, “And you. You are too good for me, in every sense.”

With those inner revelations, the bind was broken, though the two of you didn’t notice. You both stood there motionless, holding each other’s hands, until you finally broke the silence.

“You deserve so much more than you give yourself Jason Peter Todd.” You pulled him closer and pressed your lips to his. He backed away, looking at you in shock before taking your head in his hands and drawing you into a deep passionate kiss while slowly backing up to the bed.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood #red hood x y/n #dc imagine #dc fanfic #dc reader insert #batboys imagine #batboys x reader #batfam x reader #jason todd fanfic #red hood fanfic

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angelicthor · 6 years ago

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billion dollar man - part 3

pairing: tony stark x reader

summary: after mounting bills and debt cause you to look at alternative means of making money, you’re thrown into a whole different kind of life when one of the most famous billionaires on the block offers to be your sugar daddy, of course in exchange for a different from of payment. non-superhero au.

warnings/genre: +18 only, sugarbaby/daddy relationship

masterlist | billion dollar man masterlist

You woke the next morning still in a state of disbelief, laying in bed as the events of the previous night replayed in your mind. Your thoughts of Tony were abruptly halted by the knock on your door and you remembered that you were having a delivery today with your outfit choices for the evening. Padding over to the door you were shocked to see not a delivery man but Wanda, your neighbour and best friend standing in front of you with her hand on her hip and her eyebrow arched at you, clearly annoyed about something.

“What the hell were you thinking?” She questioned instantly, only leaving you more confused as to what the hell she was talking about. Before you could open your mouth to respond she shoved her phone into your hands, storming past you and into your apartment.

Looking down at the phone, you saw that the app loaded was Babble Babe, more specifically the article from last night; the picture of you and Tony centred on the screen. How Wanda had figured out it was you from your back alone was beyond you but you knew she wouldn’t be happy – Wanda was there for everything after your messy split from your ex, consoling you when you seemed inconsolable to everyone else and you knew she was protective of you, you hadn’t factored in her response to you ‘dating’ Tony, the world’s most notorious womanizer, and with the pointed look she was giving you, you started to wish you had.

You knew better than to lie to Wanda, if she knew it was you then you just had to tell her the truth, the woman was like a mind reader, absolutely nothing got past her. It was honestly freaky sometimes how she could read people, no secret was safe around Wanda Maximoff. With a dejected sigh, you turned to her: “How the hell could you tell it was me?”

“Oh please, I’d recognise that ass anywhere! Plus, that’s the dress you wore for my birthday two months ago and I know for a fact you only wear it on special occasions, so I ask again: What the hell are you doing?”

You quirked a brow at your friend, eyes widening before you shook your head, deciding to ignore the fact that she could apparently pick your ass out of every other in New York and jump right to placating her growing annoyance. “Ok will you please calm down; it was just a date Wan.”

“A date? With Tony Stark?” She questioned incredulously, arms crossed over her chest in a defensive manner. You knew you were going to have to tell her the truth or she’d march down to Tony’s apartment herself to get the answers she wanted. The woman was persistent, you’d give her that.

“Just, promise me you won’t freak out ok? Just listen to everything I have to say before you start telling me how stupid this is and swear on your life not to tell anyone.”

Wanda’s defensive demeanour shifted lightly at your words, concern shining in her eyes as he nodded, not entirely sure what you were going to tell her. Walking past her you made your way over to the draw in your kitchen that had all your final notice bills in, the multitude of letters stacked neatly and tied together with an elastic band. Wanda took the bills from your hand, eyes widening as she flicked through them and saw just how bad your financial situation really was.

“Oh Y/N, I knew it was getting tough but I had no idea it was this bad,” Wanda’s expression changed to one of sympathy, hand resting on your arm as a sign of comfort, “But I still don’t understand what dating Tony has to do with this.”

“Well, see we’re not really dating. It’s an act, one that I’m getting paid good money for, he just needs to prove himself to his company’s chair board to be stable and a ‘relationship’ is one of the ways to do it.”

“So, he’s paying you to play make believe with him?” Wanda still had her doubts in all of this and it was understandable, the more you told her the more ridiculous it sounded.

“Pretty much, I promise I’m not actually dating Tony Stark. There are absolutely no romantic feelings involved in this Wanda, we’re just going to be friends if anything.”

She definitely doesn’t need to know about the sex part of the arrangement, she’s struggling to accept this as it is.

You could see her pondering over everything you had told her, the gears turning in her head as she created a thousand and one ways this entire situation could go before she finally relented with a sigh; “Alright, alright. I promise my lips are sealed, just be careful ok?”

You let out a chuckle at her constant worry, pulling her in for a hug at her support, “I promise Wan, it’s not like I’m going to fall in love with Tony freakin’ Stark for God’s sake.”

The two of you dropped the discussion on your new means of earning money for the time being, deciding instead to have breakfast together before Wanda had to go to work at the floristry she owned in Brooklyn.

You were just sipping at the fresh cup of coffee you had made for yourself when another knock sounded at your door, only this time it wasn’t Wanda. A multitude of delivery men stood at your door carrying various boxes, bags, and dresses all in covers to protect them, every single thing they held had a designer name strapped across it that you could never even dream to afford and you stood staring at the men before you with your mouth agape, unable to comprehend just why Tony had got you so much.

“Miss Y/LN?” the voice of one of the delivery men snapped you out of your stupor and you nodded your head in conformation, “Where do you want us to put the bags Miss?”

Where indeed, they had more clothes on in their hands than you had in your wardrobe, you had no idea where you were going to store all of this. “Just, uh - the bedroom I guess?”

You lead them through your small apartment into your cramped bedroom and they placed everything Tony had gotten you on the floor and your bed, every surface seemingly covered in the poky room. Thanking the men as they left, you want back to your room to stare at the numerous bags and boxes that littered it, feeling like a child on Christmas morning opening their presents as you made your way through each one.

Tony really had bought you everything you could possibly need for tonight; Tiffany bags filled with stunning jewellery, Chanel bags brimming with make-up, Versace perfume that smelt heavenly, a selection of Louboutin boxes that held gorgeous shoes all in your size that fit perfectly, Tony had even had deliveries from Romanoff’s Delights with the most luxurious lingerie you had ever seen – how he knew your sizes was beyond you.

Rifling through the box of silken bras you found a note at the bottom: ‘Couldn’t help but think how good you’d look in these, Kitten. Feel free to wear them tonight, I’ll see you at 7:30. T x’

You couldn’t stop the amused smile spreading across your face at the note, shaking your head as a chuckle escaped you. You retrieved the card Tony gave you from your bedside table, punching the number into your phone and sending him a quick text.

- How the hell do you know my bra size?

You didn’t have to wait long before your phone was lighting up with Tony’s response.

- I have my ways, Sugar. Do you like them?

You couldn’t help but smirk as you wrote out your response, only able to imagine his reaction.

- They’re cute but I normally prefer lace.

You could have sworn his reply was even faster this time and you could picture his shit eating grin as you read over his words.

- Lace huh? Kinky. I’ll have to remember that.

You put the phone down, moving to the dresses that were spread out over your bed, your amazement at the beautiful garments growing as you revealed each breath-taking design from the covers they were in. Each one fit you like a glove, accentuating some part of you and making you look better then you ever have before. These dresses were made to be worn by actual women, the lavish fabric cut and sown to adapt to the curves of the female body, unlike the cheap fabric that made up your other clothes that were designed to only look good on coat hangers.

You tried each dress on, admiring your reflection in the full-length mirror in the corner of your room and trying to decide which one you should wear tonight, not actually knowing anything about the event you would be going to. In the end, you decided to play it safe, choosing to stay classic and refined in the black number Tony had bought you; the material was unbelievably soft against your skin, the off-shoulder cut and fishtail trail giving you an effortless sense of elegance.

Once you finished playing dress-up, you put the other dresses in your closet, keeping them in their covers to protect the designer clothing. You tried to organise everything else Tony had bought you, as difficult a task as it was, you simply didn’t have much room to spare. Storing the smaller things like cosmetics and other luxury toiletries was easy, keeping them in your make-up bags and in the space available on your small, shabby vanity under the window but you had to keep the numerous shoes he had bought you in their boxes, stacking them in the corner of your room in an impressive tower.

You busied yourself tidying the apartment until it was time for you to get ready, heading towards your cramped bathroom with your new toiletries in hand. You filled the tub with water, examining the new bath oils Tony had provided you with, the regal styled bottle of Floris looking nearly too good to use and left you wondering just how much Tony had spent on you already. The soft scents of lime blossom and lily filled the room as the oil mixed with the running water and when your bath was just perfect your turned off the taps, stepping into the bath and easing into the warm water.

You relaxed in the tub until the water went cold, the oils making your skin feel soft under your fingers and you couldn’t wait to test out everything else Tony had bought for you. You dried yourself off and styled your hair, moving to do your make-up before slipping on your underwear; you took a moment to admire yourself glammed up in nothing but your luxury lingerie, hands roaming down your sides and over the material of your panties, noticing how similar your skin felt to the expensive silk and smiling at your reflection.

You slipped the dress on, smoothing the material down your body as it clung to you like a second skin, matching it with a pair of the Louboutin’s gifted to you before you took the necklace from the Tiffany’s box, clasping it around your neck and admiring the way the pearls alternated by diamonds wrapped around your throat. Your reflection was nearly unrecognisable, you were certain you had never seen as much money in your life like you were wearing at the current moment, you only hoped it would be enough to impress Tony because it was definitely an improvement to waiting tables.

Your phone pinged on your bedside table and you read the text from Tony, telling you that he was a few minutes out from your apartment. Gathering the Yves Saint Lauren clutch bag that completed the outfit and shoving your phone and other necessities into it, you gave yourself one last glance in the mirror to make sure everything was perfect before heading out the door, grateful to not run into Wanda on your way out and sparing yourself her concerned looks.

By the time you got downstairs to the entrance of your building, Happy was waiting by the door, giving you a small smile and nod of his head as greeting before leading you over to the car and opening the door for you, to which you thanked him before gracefully sliding into the backseat of the pricey car that you noticed was different to the one that brought you home the night before. Tony was already seated in the back, sipping on a glass a scotch from the mini bar to the side of him, his eyebrow raised as his gaze swept over you, his tongue poking out the lick at the amber liquid that stained his bottom lip.

“Well Gorgeous, money definitely suits you, that’s for sure.” Tony reached for the glass of bubbling champagne already poured, handing you the flute as his eyes continued to roam your body. “How are you feeling?”

You took a sip of the sparkling liquid, feeling it fizz on your tongue as you savoured the taste, “A little nervous but nothing I can’t handle. Do you think we’ll be convincing enough?”

Leaning back and resting his head against the back of his seat, Tony let his eyes slip closed as a chuckle escaped his lips, “Sweetheart, all I have to do to make this look convincing to the world is go in there and make it look like I want nothing more than to take you home – and with the way you look right now that isn’t going to be a challenge in the slightest.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, unable to fight the smile playing at his lips as you heard the underlying compliment under everything he was saying: you look nice. You couldn’t help but admire just how good Tony looked in a suit; waistcoat visible from between his open jacket, the crisp white shirt a contrast to the all-black ensemble, the burgundy tie the only colour evident. The white strip of his handkerchief was barely peeking over his breast-pocket and you couldn’t deny how classy the man looked.

You both made idle chitchat as the car made its way towards the hotel and it struck you how easy you found it to talk to Tony, there was no awkward silences or forced conversations you could simply be around him. Maybe it was due to all the messages you exchanged before you released just who ‘iron man’ was or maybe it was just the fact that Tony was just someone who you could be around, you didn’t know nor did you dwell on the issue – it was a good sign that this arrangement would work and that’s all you needed to know.

Happy finally pulled up outside of the Plaza and the flashing of cameras could be seen even through the tinted glass of the car windows and a sudden wave of anxiety struck you; you had no idea how to act in these sort of formal events and you didn’t want to discredit Tony, not only that but you would effectively be meeting so many people who came from such a different background to you, what if they could see right through the fine clothes and jewellery and looked down on you?

Sensing your abrupt apprehension, Tony took your hand in his, thumb rubbing calming circles into the skin on the back, intense gaze willing you to look up at him; “Hey, it’ll be fine, ok? Don’t worry about it, just stick by my side and we’ll be golden.”

Your eyes met his, finding nothing but sincerity in his stare as your teeth nibbled on your bottom lip, a nervous habit you had, nodding your head in agreement. You didn’t miss the way Tony’s eyes followed the notion, his eyes becoming heavily lidded as his tongue peeked out to swipe over his lips before a smirk spread across them. The sight gave you a boost of confidence and your lips curled in a cheeky grin which only grew as Tony chuckled, muttering ‘trouble’ under his breath and lacing his fingers through yours.

The door to the car opened, Happy standing by waiting for you and Tony to exit and shutting the door behind you. The bright flashes from the photographers where blinding and the shouts from multiple reporters asking Tony a million and one questions about who you were and what was happening with Stark Industries was deafening. Pulling you closer to him by your waist, Tony whispered in your ear to just smile and ignore them, the both of you making your way to the front of the building and being escorted inside by a member of staff.

You breathed a sigh of relief when the doors closed behind you and the relentless questions were muted. Tony’s hand didn’t move from your waist as you were lead through the hotel and towards the charity dinner that was being held in the terrace room and you couldn’t find a single part of you that cared, if anything Tony’s signs of attraction towards you were welcome – you couldn’t deny you found the man alluring and you were most definitely looking forward to the afterparty he had planned for the both of you.

The room the charity ball was being held in was stunning, easily one of the most luxurious places you had the fortune of seeing, the room practically glowing golden under the lights of the chandeliers. There were tables dotted around the room, most already occupied, and in the centre, there was a dancefloor that already had a few patrons twirling elegantly on it. As Tony led you to what you assumed were your assigned seats, you couldn’t help but take in the beauty around you, the intricate architecture of the room was breath-taking and the people that filled it matched seamlessly; men dressed in perfectly styled suits, practically oozing class and style and the women were decorated in fine dresses, appearing to be dipped in the most precious jewels that sparkled under the low-light of the room.

Even with all the money Tony had spent on this outfit alone you still couldn’t help feeling out of place, as if they could see through the charade you were trying so desperately to put on: Tony could put you in the most expensive dresses in the world, it still wouldn’t change the fact that this wasn’t the company and lifestyle you were accustomed to.

Tony stopped in front of a table that already had a few taken seats, cocking an eyebrow at the group until they stopped talking and turned to you both; the gorgeous red-head’s eyes travelled over you and you couldn’t help but feel she was going to eat you alive, her expression unwavering as she picked you apart. The two men seated beside her seemed much more welcoming and you couldn’t help but think that you’d seen them before; a tall blonde with kind eyes and a trusting smile and his brunette friend with piercing blue eyes and a cheeky grin that made you melt a little inside.

“Guys, this is Y/N, my date. Y/N, this is Steve, Bucky, and Nat,” Tony introduced you to everyone as he pulled out your chair for, making sure you were comfortable before sitting down next to you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Y/N,” the blond – Steve – said, pulling your hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Your eyes widened at the gesture, you didn’t even think anyone in the 21st century did that anymore.

Before you could take your hand back, it was already firmly clasped in Bucky’s; “A great pleasure Dollface, you look spectacular.” Bucky pulled your hand to his mouth, steel-blue eyes locked on yours as he pressed a kiss to the skin and you felt your face heat up at the action.

“Alright Barnes hands to yourself, this is my date unless you forgot.” Tony shot Bucky a look, his arm coming to wrap around your shoulder and pulling you into his side, a silent demand for Bucky to keep his charms to himself.

Barnes? Wait, as in James?

Your eyes flittered between Steve and Bucky before you put the pieces in place: “Wait, wait, wait; you’re James Barnes and Steve Rogers? As in Barnes and Rogers Attorneys? You guys are the best lawyers out there!”

Although you were slightly embarrassed by your fangirlish outburst nothing you had said wasn’t true. Barnes and Rogers were the best of the best and their clientele list only proved that fact – they were even the designated attorneys for Stark Industries if you remembered correctly. Steve and Bucky’s eyebrows both shot up at your exclamation, not expecting to be recognised by one of Tony Starks dates.

“Uh, yeah that’s us. You’ve heard of our work?” Steve was still in shock, not knowing how to handle the sudden attention on him whereas Bucky seemed to be basking in it.

“Of course. I used some of your work as case studies at law school, it’s very impressive stuff.”

This caught all three’s attention; Steve still looking adorably shocked, Bucky leaning forward in his chair and even Nat – who had been pretty adamant on ignoring your presence up until now – arched a brow at you, a look of confusion washing over her features as her eyes darted over to Tony, trying to get a read on him.

“You’re a lawyer?” Bucky asked and you were sure that if his eyebrows got any higher they would be forever lost in his hairline.

You fumbled slightly at this question, were you technically a lawyer if you weren’t employed? More importantly, what exactly were you supposed to tell them?

“Uh y-yes. I’m just taking some time to myself before I jump into the field; I feel like I’ve spent every day of my life studying, I just want some time away before I dedicate myself to the job.” You glanced at Tony who was sipping on the champagne flute in his hands, he offered you a small nod and a smirk and you knew you were on the right track. You relaxed slightly at that, reaching forward for your own glass as you smiled at the people before you.

“So where exactly did you two meet?” You nearly choked on your drink at Natasha’s question but quickly saved yourself from sputtering like a fool.

“Yeah Stark,” Bucky gasped dramatically, clutching his hand to his chest in mock theatrics, “Have you been seeing other lawyers behind our backs? I thought what we had was special!”

You felt Tony stiffen beside you and panic began to set in, the two of you had gone over nearly everything - apart from a story to explain how the hell the two of you had met. Natasha squinted her eyes at you both and you could practically hear the gears whirring in Tony’s head to try and come up with something, anything!

Thinking fast you came up with a something simple and easy to remember in case you were asked again and hoped it would work, you knew the longer you stayed in silence the stranger It looked. “Tony bumped into me on the street one day and I dropped my coffee, he insisted he buy me a new one and we got talking and it led to him asking me on a date.”

You could see the tension leave Tony’s body as you gave the three of them a plausible explanation, his hand coming to rest on your thigh and giving it a squeeze that said what he currently couldn’t voice – thank you. Steve and Bucky seemed to buy it straight away but Natasha still seemed cautious, turning towards Tony and asking him directly, you wouldn’t be able to save him this time. “You brought her to this boring-ass charity event as a first date? This thing is going to drag on for hours.”

“I didn’t bring her here as a first date; our first date was last night,” Tony seemed to have regained his confidence after that little stumble and was currently the perfect picture of relaxation against his friends ruthless questioning; he was reclined against the back of the chair, his arm draped over the back of yours as he swirled his drink around his glass with the other.

His words, however, had all three sets of eyes staring at you both in complete astonishment. Tony had managed to stun Steve so much that his glass had stopped moving towards his lips, frozen in mid-air as he tried to process Tony’s words.

Bucky was the first to break out of whatever spell he was under, shaking his head and letting out a disbelieving chuckle; “I’m sorry – did you just say this was your second date?”

“Yep,” Tony popped the ‘p’, completely unfazed by his friends whereas you were more than confused at their response.

“Huh, I guess pigs really do fly. Tony Stark is on a second date,” Steve muttered under his breath before taking a big drink from his glass.

“You guys should really get used to seeing her face around here cause there’s going to be more dates too.” You turned to face Tony at his words and he offered you a sly smirk to which you could only respond with a shy smile.

The three of them decided to drop the subject, instead asking you about your life – Bucky and Steve particularly interested in your education. The evening seemed to be going smoothly but you still couldn’t shake the idea that Natasha did not like you one bit and you couldn’t help but be intimidated by her.

A few others joined the table, taking the attention of Bucky and Steve off you and you decided to try and forge a steadier footing with Nat, especially if you were going to be spending more time around Tony’s friends. Tony watched with a curious look as you moved to sit next to Nat, taking a shaky breath to steady your nerves, “So what do you do Nat?”

The red-head rolled her eyes at you, opening her mouth to speak but only being cut off by one of the newer guests at the table, Norman Osborn. “Natasha owns Romanoff’s delights, sexiest lingerie there is – I sure as hell won’t go near a bitch that isn’t in it,” Osborn chuckled, the sound as repulsive as its origins and you could see Nat’s jaw tick as her fists clenched on her lap.

Before she had a chance to retort, your temper got the best of you, your head snapping towards Osborn as your glare burned holes in his head; “I believe I asked Natasha. I suggest you keep your unwanted opinions to yourself,” The man began to snort indignantly as you spoke, seemingly offended at being called out by you, “I just hope to god you provide the girls you fuck with blindfolds cause they sure as hell need them to sleep with you.”

Osborn left in a flurry of mumbled curses, face bright red with mortification at being so publicly humiliated. As he retreated you suddenly became aware of what exactly you said, face burning hot in horror as you felt the stares of four sets of eyes on you, looking around the table you could see the same look of complete and utter shock mirrored on each face and you truly thought that it was all over for you.

That was until Bucky burst out laughing, tears streaming down his face with his mirth, Steve shaking his head as laughter escaped him too. Tony actually looked proud of you, his head tilting back as if he was appraising you, happy with the choice he had made. And Nat? Nat, for the first time since you had walked over to the table, was smiling at you, her green eyes shining with humour and her gaze once again swept over you – only this time it didn’t feel nearly as threatening, more like she was seeing you for the first time.

“Oh god, that was hilarious! Did you see his face?” Bucky had barley recovered from his uproar, eyes wiping away the stray tears.

“This one’s feisty Stark, you so sure you can handle her?” Steve joked, sending a wink your way as he smacked Bucky on the back, trying to calm his friend down.

Tony pressed a kiss to your temple, easing your building nerves as he gave you a reassuring smile, eyes not leaving yours as he answered Steve: “Nope, but I’m sure as hell gonna try.”

After your little outburst, Natasha’s attitude towards you completely changed, her hostility completely vanished and she welcomed you into her little group of friends, enthusiastically telling you about her work, gushing over her fiancé and her upcoming wedding and asking you questions about your own life. This time, however, she held a genuine interest and curiosity rather than probing for information to try and get a read on you. You found yourself relaxing around her and actual started enjoying her company – especially when she started telling you the most hilarious stories about Tony and the ridiculous situations he somehow got himself into.

You couldn’t help the raucous laughter that escaped when Nat told you about the time Tony had to run through a hotel with nothing but a napkin to cover his dignity to avoid paparazzi after a failed one-night stand, tears streaming down your cheeks at Nat’s recall of the memorable event and the red-head had to fan herself to try and keep composure, much to Tony’s chagrin but he was pleased you seemed to be mixing well with his friends, it was a promising sign.

Nat tried to stifle her giggles as she spotted a familiar figure make his way through the crowds, the smile that spread across her face the brightest you had seen on her all night and she practically glowed as she locked eyes with the man who you could only assume was the fiancé she had told you about. The man’s eyes that were focused on Nat as if she was the only person in the room, the burgundy suit he wore standing out amongst the sea of black and navy he was parting, and you noted how beautiful a couple they made.

“Hey beautiful, sorry I’m late traffic was crazy,” He ducked down, pressing a kiss to Nat’s ruby painted lips which she eagerly responded to.

Breaking away from the kiss, Nat introduced you to her fiancé, “Sam this is Y/N – Tony’s date. Y/N, this is my fiancé, Sam Wilson.”

Sam cast you a bright smile, enthusiastically taking your hand in his and shaking it; “Nice to meet you Y/N, thanks for keeping my girl company whilst I was held up.”

“It was no problem, she’s good fun to be around,” You and Nat shared a smile, something which caused Sam to raise an eyebrow to and he turned to Bucky and Steve quizzically.

“Ok, what’d I miss?”

Such a simple question spouted another round of laughs from the boys and you could only look bashful in response: “We’ll explain later, you want a drink?”

The boys and Nat left towards to the bar leaving you and Tony alone for the first time that night, his arm circled your shoulder pulling you into his chest as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “How are you feeling?” He murmured into the sensitive skin of your neck before kissing it, teeth nipping it lightly, lips curling into a smirk as he heard you gasp, your hand shooting down to clutch at his thigh.

“Honestly? It’s going great, your friends are really nice,” You hummed as Tony’s beard scratched the column of your throat and it took everything within you to stop yourself from outright moaning at the sensation, “Do you think that little, uh, outburst is going to bother people?”

Tony’s chuckle tickled your skin and you couldn’t help squirming in his hold before he raised his head from where it was buried in your shoulder, turning you to softly kiss your lips as his hand sought out your own, entwining your fingers together and giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Trust me, that was the funniest thing that’s ever happened at one of these things and it sure as hell hasn’t put anyone off you, ‘specially not me. I told you; you’re trouble of the best possible kind. It’s refreshing, for all of us really.”

Not knowing what else to say, you opted to kiss him instead; your lips caressing his, eyes fluttering shut as his hand cupped your neck, tongues tangling in a languid dance, his hand slowly sliding up your thigh as your own hand buried itself in his thick hair. Your first kiss with Tony Stark and my god could you get used to the feeling of those lips on yours. The man had a talented tongue.

You had nearly forgotten you were in a very public place with a very noticeable figure and you definitely had forgotten that this was only your second date with said figure. You had no idea why you were so comfortable around Tony so early on: maybe it was his charms, maybe it was the fact that you knew it wasn’t exactly real, merely beneficial for both parties, either way, it didn’t matter.

The sound of someone shouting ‘Stark!’ pulled you out of your thoughts and you detached yourself from Tony, chest slightly heaving and a flush painting your cheeks as you noticed just how lost in the moment you were. Tony cleared his throat, swiping his hands through his hair to fix his tousled tresses and you knew he was as dazed as you, causing a swell of pride to grow inside you – it takes a lot to be able to fluster a playboy.

You both turned to the source of the shouts and you watched as Tony leapt from his seat, a grin on his face as you embraced the man in front of him in a strong hug, “Rhodes, God it’s good to see you. I didn’t know you were back, where’s Carol? How is everything?”

“It’s good to be back Tony, Carol’s flying back in a couple days; I came early to make sure everything was set. Everything’s going great man, business is good, life’s good. I can’t complain about a thing – who’s your friend?”

The man, Rhodes, was clearly a good friend of Tony’s – he was practically flying out of his chair to great him and Rhodes only responded with equal enthusiasm.

Tony turned to you, offering you a hand and helping you out of your seat, wrapping an arm around your waist as he made introductions; “Rhodey, this is Y/N Y/LN, my date. Y/N, this is James Rhodes, my best friend and former trouble-seeking companion, before he became boring of course.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes at Tony good-naturedly and turned to you with a smile, speaking to you but aiming his words at Tony, “And by ‘becoming boring’ he means settling down, something he should be doing by now – it’s nice to meet you Y/N, good luck with this one, alright?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the playful banter between the two of them, it was clear that they were good friends with the way that they dug into each other, something only people who are extremely comfortable with each other do.

You spent some time talking with Rhodey, learning more about his life and becoming increasingly impressed the more you heard about him; Rhodey used to be a Colonel in the US Airforce – which is where he met Tony in his weapons manufacturing days but since then had left to start his own business, using his expertise of aircraft to start his own airplane manufacturing company with his wife Carol Danvers, which was doing quite well in his own modest opinion.

Rhodey and Tony seemed thrilled to be back together again and Rhodey was only more than willing to tell you of all the ridiculous stunts Tony had pulled; between the stories Rhodey was telling you and what Nat had said you were beginning to wonder how he ever had time to actually invent anything for Stark Industries.

You and Tony spent some more time with Rhodey, his arm not once leaving your waist before another man caught Tony’s attention, this time Tony’s reaction was void of any excitement and he actually seemed nervous. Both you and Rhodey caught the shift in Tony’s demeanour and Rhodey decided to make his exit, telling you it was nice meeting you but he had yet to make his rounds around the room, patting Tony’s arm as he moved past him.

Studying Tony’s face, you noticed how his brow furrowed ever so slightly, his lips drawn tight in a grimace as he studied the older man laughing in a group a few tables away. His attention was solely on him and all traces of happiness he had at seeing his best friend again had vanished. You rested your head on his shoulder, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek, your hand cradling his face and diverting his attention back to you. “You ok?” you whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear and draw attention to yourselves.

Tony blinked down at you as if he was coming out of a trance, offering you a forced smile that wasn’t fooling you for a second, “I’m fine it’s just - see the guy in with the beard and cigar?” You nodded your head, eyes drifting over to the man that had seized Tony’s attention, “That’s Obadiah Stane, he was one of dad’s business partners, he’s pretty much the only family I have left now. He’s trying his best to help me keep the company but, well, with my track record of recklessness there’s only so much he can do.”

It was obvious how much this all meant to Tony and you vowed to yourself to help him keep his company in any way you could; you’d keep up the charade of the loved-up couple as long as you needed to, “Hey, that’s why I’m here right? It’ll all be ok, the board will vote in your favour, it’s your company. You’re Tony fucking Stark, what would they do without you?”

Tony pulled you into him, his arms encasing your waist in a tight hug as he shot you a crooked smirk, “I just don’t want to let him down.” The words were so faint you may have missed them if you hadn’t been pressed flat against his chest. Your heart nearly broke at the vulnerability Tony was showing you right now, you knew for certain this wasn’t a common occurrence for him - Tony Stark wasn’t a man that easily trusted - but he already had to put a lot of faith in you just to suggest this relationship.

Not having the words to reassure him, you pressed your lips against his in a gentle kiss which he eagerly responded to before breaking away, resting his forehead against yours, “You know, you’re really good at that.”

Giggling, you shook your head at him, “Come on, let’s go say hello.”

Obadiah Stane was a strange man, there was just something about him that you didn’t trust. Whereas Nat didn’t instantly take to you, she was at least obvious about it, Obadiah on the other hand hid his disdain for you, although not that well. You could see the flash of contempt as his eyes roamed over you as Tony introduced you before he schooled his features into an overbearing grin. He was too enthusiastic with his greeting, his grin not faltering for a moment and you knew it was all fake, the man didn’t like you at all and you didn’t know why for the life of you. You would have thought you would have been over the moon at the prospect of Tony showing signs of stability like the board wanted. Apparently not.

You remained silent throughout their conversation and Obadiah made no attempt to even try and talk to you. He and Tony mainly talked business but you could feel the stress rolling off Tony in waves, his body rigid under your hands and you knew he found Obadiah petrifying, there was a seriousness between them that was none-existent with Tony’s other friends. Their talk was brief before Obadiah was moving on, rubbing elbows with other rich businessmen who had little cares other than the absurd amounts of money they had.

“Come on, let’s dance,” Tony led you to the dancefloor, twirling you into his arms before swaying elegantly across the room, the music from the band creating the perfect ambiance for the night. One hand was rested on his shoulder and the other was firmly clasped in his, his hand on your waist pulling you close to his body as you mirrored every step he made, your faces barely a breaths width apart; it was oddly intimate, no words exchanged between the two of you as you simply enjoyed the feeling of being pressed against each other.

You could still hear the gears turning in Tony’s head, his anxiety obvious after his encounter with Obadiah but you didn’t want to talk about him, not trusting him and not wanting to put those feelings on Tony, he was already weighed down with so much. So, you did what you thought was right, you distracted Tony the best way you knew; humour.

These kinds of places were always full of snooty woman and patronising men and you took advantage of this, casting your eyes around the dancefloor for victims of your game, finding suitable couples and telling Tony your playful thoughts about them much to his amusement.

“See the guy that looks like the fat controller from Thomas the Tank engine dancing with Cruella De Vil?” You cast your eyes the couple stiffly dancing not too far from you, smirking to yourself as Tony subtly turned to see them.

His eyes found them and a cheeky grin spread across his face, biting down on his lower lip to try and stifle the chortle your comparison had brought out of him, not looking away from the short, round man and the tall, thin, woman draped in furs who were rigid in their movements across the dancefloor, heads held obnoxiously high as if they were too good for the present company, “What about them?”

“Bet they have sex as stiffly as they dance; I’m talking full on robotics in the bedroom, it’s not the bed that squeaks its Mr. Roboto and I guarantee her face doesn’t change from that bored as fuck expression the entire time.”

Tony could barely contain his boisterous laughter and you had to bury your face in his chest to muffle the sound of your own giggles, your body shaking with your laughter and you peeked up to see tears forming in the corners of his eyes, face turning red as he tried not to cause a scene.

“You’re unreal, you know that right?” Tony asked.

“Oh I’m very real Mr. Stark, I’m just unlike anyone you’ve ever met before,” You purred into his ear, lips grazing the shell with every words you spoke, the sultry tone of your voice causing Tony’s eyes to dilate with desire.

“Oh Gorgeous, I am really starting to see that,” Tony licked his lips as his eyes glided over yours, desperate to lean forward and close the small gap between you, “Do you want a drink?”

You nodded your head as Tony led you away from the dancefloor and towards the table where Nat, Sam, Steve, and Bucky were all situated, laughing amongst themselves whilst he went to the bar. They welcomed you back, all animosity that Nat previously held for you gone as if it was never there and she even gestured to the seat next to her for you to sit in as Tony got you your drinks. You were quickly pulled into the conversation they were having, Nat and Sam telling everyone about the engagement party they were planning, hands entwined the entire time, looking at each other as if they were the most incredible thing they had ever seen; it was obvious they were head over heels in love with each other.

Tony returned with your drinks, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he sat down next to you, the action not going unnoticed by the others who were still very stumped as to what exactly was going on with Tony; this was not typical Tony Stark behaviour, that was for sure. Nevertheless, no one mentioned it and the conversation continued, laughs being shared amongst everyone and you felt yourself relaxing amongst your new company; they were good people and you were enjoying yourself which is far more than you thought would happen tonight.

The night went on until you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, Nat jumping out of her seat to accompany you, her sudden excitement to head to the bathroom with you confused you but you let it slide – maybe she just wanted to make amends for how she treated you earlier.

Once you were finished, you excited the stall to find Nat checking the others to make sure that you two were actually alone in the room before she turned to you, arms crossed against her chest as a sly smirk curled her lips, “It’s been bugging me all night – you and Tony. But I think I finally have it figured out.”

You tried to fight the rising fear in you, there was no way she could possibly know the truth, right? You hadn’t once mentioned the situation between you and Tony, how the hell could she actual see it after one night? Dear God, how obvious had you been? You attempted to school your features into a look of confusion but you knew your eyes were wide, giving you the look of a dear caught in headlights.

“What do you mean? We’re just dating Nat,” You cursed yourself for the way your voice broke at the end but Natasha Romanoff was an frightening woman, there was no avoiding that fact, especially when she appeared to be aiming her efforts at you.

“But it’s not just dating, is it? You’ve got a special arrangement going on; I couldn’t figure it out at first, you’re not one of Stark’s typical dates – you know how to use a knife and fork for starters and you could actually hold a conversation about something other than nailcare – but I still couldn’t figure out what exactly was going on between you. Then it hit me, when he took you over to Obadiah, you’ve got a very specific purpose for him. You’re the girl that’s going to make Tony Stark look domesticated, tamed from his wild playboy days and seem capable enough to run his own business that is being threatened to be taken away from him. But you’re smart and he wouldn’t be able to string you along without you realising, which means you’re in on it too, and getting something out of it.”

“You’re not choosing to spend some time away from the job you worked so long to get, are you? You can’t actually find one, it’s a tough world and sometimes life just doesn’t work the way you want. Just tell me something though; how the hell did Tony Stark find his sugar baby?”

You were going to be sick. Physically sick.

No one was supposed to know and not even one night into this relationship you’d already been called out. There was no way you could deny it, Nat had everything figured out and you could only stand there gapping at her, struggling to form the words needed to explain yourself.

With a sigh, you ducked your head, trying to avoid Nat’s smug smile as she watched you try to worm your way out of the situation. “Online – there was a website I signed up for and we started talking,” You relented, words tinged with dejection.

Oh god, was she going to tell everyone?

“My god, there is literally a website for everything these days – that’s sure as hell not how I did it.”

Your head snapped up at her words. ‘Not how she did it’? Surely that didn’t mean what you thought it did.

“I- you- What?” You stammered out in the most inelegant fashion, chastising yourself in your head for sounding like a bumbling idiot.

Before Nat had a chance to answer you, the door to the bathroom opened and two giggling, clearly intoxicated girls tried to enter. Emphasis on tried.

Nat’s head snapped in their direction, barking “Out!” at them and watching them immediately turn on their heel and head towards another restroom in the hotel. Even you jumped at the severity of her voice but when she turned back to you she held nothing but humour in her expression.

“Of course, how did you think I met Sam?” She stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe she thought everyone was as perceptive as she apparently was.

“Wait, so, you were Sam’s... sugar baby?” You were uncertain in your asking, praying to every God there was that you hadn’t somehow misread this whole situation and were making a complete fool of yourself.

Nat’s melodic laughter caught you off guard and you panicked thinking you really had got this whole thing wrong. “Oh no sweetness, I wasn’t the sugar baby – he was.”

Noticing your slack jaw, Natasha explained herself further, “I didn’t want to date but everyone else expected it of me – commitment wasn’t my forte and I had some severe trust issues – but I still had to come to these god-forsaken things and listen to people’s judgements of me. Appearances mean a lot in this world and the pressure was starting to get to me, and then I met Sam. He had just lost his job as an accountant and, well, you can’t live in New York for free. So, I propositioned him, I pay him a hefty salary to follow me everywhere and anywhere I needed him too. The whole world would think he was my boyfriend, getting every gossip monger out there off my back, and Sam wouldn’t be homeless. It was a win-win.”

“So, the engagement?”

“Oh no, that’s all real. God, I wouldn’t go as far as to fake a marriage. I guess one day it just wasn’t acting anymore, I genuinely loved him, he just became my person, you know? The one person you turn to for everything; all the good times and the bad, your shoulder to cry on and your body to hug in happiness. And I, unknowingly, became that for him. I knew the original deal wouldn’t work anymore now that I loved him, so I let him go, got him a job as an accountant at a good company and honestly, I never expected to see him again. But if Sam’s good at one thing, it’s his ability to always be able to surprise me. I let him go, but he was still always there for me. I guess that’s when the real thing began and now we’re here, ready to be together for the rest of our lives.”

By the time Nat had finished, she had a wistful smile on her face from remembering all the things she had shared with Sam and you couldn’t stop your own smile from lighting up your face as you heard the red-head gush about her fiancé.

“You’re not going to tell anyone about me and Tony, right Nat?” You were still unsure what Nat was going to do and you wrung your hands together as you awaited her answer.

“God no! I would never do that, I swear,” She moved towards you, placing her hands on your shoulders, “I just wanted you to know that I know what you’re going through, trust me when I say that this isn’t always going to be easy but if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

You heaved a sigh of relief, thanking the woman in front of you that had only known you for a few hours and yet was still showing you so much kindness. You’re first impression of her was wrong, that was for sure.

“Don’t worry about it. Honestly, I’m kinda glad to have you around, it’s a very testosterone filled environment and to say you make things interesting is an understatement,” Nat shot you a wink, clearly referring to your slight confrontation earlier.

You and Nat didn’t realise how long you had been in the restroom, time becoming lost to you both as Nat told you about the time her and Sam got a little reckless at a charity auction and had to walk out in front of everyone completely dishevelled as they were bidding off Jane Fonda’s leotard. Hearing about how Nat’s panties were clearly sticking out of Sam’s back pocket as they made their way down the centre aisle of the auction had you clutching your stomach in hysterics, Nat’s laughter just as boisterous.

“Worth it though, that boy has the finest ass, that’s for sure,” Nat quipped, causing another round of laughter from the pair of you.

It was only when a knock sounded on the door and you both turned to see Tony peeking his head into the room, his brow raised as he watched you and Nat laughing together, “Uh, Romanoff? Do you maybe think I can take my date back? You guys have been in here forever.”

“Gee, I don’t know Stark. I might want to keep her,” Nat hopped off the basin countertop she was sitting on, linking her arm through yours and walking towards the door where Tony stood, utterly perplexed at what he was seeing.

Nat stopped in front of Stark, detaching her arm from yours and leaving you with Tony, walking back to the table and Sam but not before calling over her shoulder, “I like this one, Stark. You better keep her around.”

You were certain you could have knocked Tony down with a feather with how stunned his was and you couldn’t help but giggle at him, he looked awfully adorable when he was baffled like this.

“Ok, were you eating her out in there or something?”

The seriousness of his absurd question caused you to choke on your, “What on God’s earth are you talking about Tony?”

“How the hell did you get Natasha Romanoff to like you after one night? It took her years to warm up to me!”

“I’m just a very likeable person Mr. Stark, I thought you knew that by now,” You grabbed Tony’s hand and starting walking backwards, pulling him along with you, “But if you want, I can show you how likeable I can be later.”

Shaking his head, Tony quickly closed the space between you, his arms snaking around your hips and pulling you flush to him, crashing his lips on yours in a breath-taking kiss, tongue dancing with yours before pulling away, nipping at your bottom lip as he did and a slight moan escaped you at the action.

“Believe me Gorgeous, I know just how likeable you are. Now come on,” Tony began walking through the crowds and towards the exit to which you furrowed your brows.

“Where are we going?”

“I’ve wanted to head straight to my apartment and skip this whole thing ever since I saw you tonight, we’re going back to mine - it’s time for your second interview Sugar, and something tells me you aren’t about to disappoint.”

a/n: i don’t have a tag list but if you want alerts please follow @angelicthorwrites and turn on notifications

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony x reader #iron man x reader #tony stark series #angelicthorwrites

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hearthhhh · 5 years ago

Note

Black Butler Matchup please ^_^ Hiya, I’m Chu (She/her - Heterosexual- INFJ- 17 years ole) I’m an extremely introverted person and would go as far to say social interaction intimidates me.. well except with people I’m extremely close with I’m super soft and referred to as the mom friend but I actually have a pretty dark sense of humour aha, I enjoy drawing, painting and anime oh and video games

I love you Chu marry ME first 👀

I’ll just pair these asks together, and since I already started with the Black Butler ask, I’ll leave you with an extra character 😉

I pair you with...

🥢 It’s a little headcanon of mine that Finny would be best with someone more on the quiet side! Since he’s pretty loud and excitable, so introverts would be able to balance this and be sort of grounding in a sense. I also think Finny would just find girls easily flustered and quiet cute.

🥢 You become a maid for the Phantomhive household. Finny thinks you’re cute immediately, but it takes him a really long time to realize it’s love at first sight.

🥢 He’s taken by your introversion, and goes as far as to comment on your small voice. It probably flusters you, but he just thinks that’s even cuter.

🥢 On top of our passive voice, you’re so motherly, especially over him. It’s practically impossible not to dote over him, especially when he’s eating. He loves it when you wipe his face after he’s made a mess, teasing him playfully. While the other Phantomhive servants have taken to looking after Finny like they would a little brother, Finny feels like he’ll combust into flames whenever your eyes zero in on him and you move to help him out.

🥢 One late night Finny’s kept up by thoughts of you, a dopey smile on his face. Baldroy decided enough was enough. Finny was obviously enthralled with you. This is where Finny, with the help of Baldroy, figures out he’d loved you all along. And so Finny was given the worst advice of his life along after midnight.

🥢 Finny does his hair in a well kept way that’s totally uncharacteristic of him. He even tries to tone down his excitement, though he’s practically vibrating with unspent energy by the end of the day. He even talked in a more professional tone, which slipped pretty easily, so it was obvious trying to keep up some sort of act. You realize very quickly that something was off.

🥢 Before Finny went off to his quarters for the night, you pull him aside and question his behaviour. You try to be as nice as possible, smiling encouragingly, but Finny is still brought to tears.

🥢 Finny tells you everything about his hopeless crush in one quick breath. You console him for almost half an hour until he can fully process that you feel the same.

🥢 You guys have the purest relationship. You baby him and call him sweet knicknames, and he tries to do the same to you. He’s not too good on the spoiling part, but he makes up for it with tons of affection.

🥢 You two practically radiate romantic PDA, not so much that it’s uncomfortable, just mushy and cute. You two are so childish with each other and fit together like puzzle pieces, and you both wonder why you hadn’t gotten together sooner.

I pair you with...

🥢 I think you’d hit it off pretty quickly! You both work for Ciel and sort of flunctuate towards each other, especially in social situations. You and Snake stay pretty close to each other’s sides.

🥢 After you guys get to know each other for a bit you realize you’re both introverts, and notice you’re both equally uncomfortable being a spectacle. So you take comfort in staying close to each other.

🥢 Both if you are pretty introverted! Snake is so introverted he literally speaks through his snakes. A little later in your friendship, I bet he’d be totally chill with you leaning over to whisper in his ear, then he’d repeat exactly what you said to someone in the room.

🥢 You both stay as friends for such a long time it became hard not to see one of you without the other. You were so close, it was kinda unsual to onlookers.

🥢 Then the other servants started to point things out. They thought your feelings were obvious, so they’d just assumed you two were already together. But you weren’t, so all three of them didn’t miss the chance to tease and pester you two.

🥢 Eventually you have to clarify. You two spend every waking moment together, and sometimes spend nights in each other’s room because you were talking too long and fell asleep in the middle of your conversations. You’re the one to ask Snake what exactly your relationship was.

🥢 Snake was under the assumption that you two were already dating. If you’d like to have a conversation about your relationship he’ll answer whatever you ask or purpose, but otherwise he doesn’t really need to ask about what you two are. All Snake needs to know is that he loves you, and as long as he’s by your side as much as he can, he’s content with whatever you’d like to be.

I pair you with...

🥢 Your introversion is pretty refreshing to Jumin. He does get along with you pretty quickly, although he comes off as indifferent. But Jumin likes that you’re quiet and come off as well kept.

🥢 Meeting him for the first time, Jumin would treat you like a friend. I’d imagine he’d invite you to dinner for two reasons. One being he can’t believe you don’t eat the same high quality food as him, and he found this really expensive restaurant for the two of you and paid for it just so you could have the experience. That other reason was a little for selfish... Knowing Zen he came off as flirty, and Jumin asks you out to tease him. It’s a win win for Jumin, he gets to meet his good friend face to face and fucks with Zen.

🥢 Jumin is pleasantly surprised when you meet. You came off as timid and formal over text, and come off the same earlier on in the meal. Gradually you unwind, and your sense of humour shines through.

🥢 Jumin loves how you speak of the things you like. You talk in a soft loving tone, and he almost thinks of you as childish in a sense. You talk of video games which Jumin knows nothing of, though chose to remain silent. If it were anyone else bringing up video games of all things at a five star restaurant he’d have up and left out of spite. But it was you.

🥢 Everything goes downhill from there, in a good way.

🥢 Jumin’s magically online whenever you are. He’ll postpone meetings to call you on the phone. The day after he sends Jaehee to make a shit ton of reservations at different restaurants for the two of you.

🥢 Jumin asks you out privately, maybe some really romantic reserved back room in a restaurant. Candles lit, rose petals on the table. When he starts speaking it’s as if he’s asking you to marry him, it’s so extravagant.

🥢 Once you’re in a relationship Jumin really likes the way you motherly dote on him. He’s used to people tending to his every need, but you’re different. He loves watching you cook, and doesn’t even care if it’s bad, he eats it anyway. If he doesn’t like it he doesn’t tell you, though he wouldn’t openly give bad critiques. Maybe just stay silent and shrug, but he’d shower you with praises when he likes something.

🥢 Jumin especially loves the way you treat Elizabeth the third. It’s really important that his partner gets along with her. He loves watching you stroke her fur casually, or when your voice pitches up to coo at her in a doting voice. Sometimes it comes off maybe as a bit freaky, with him watching you two intently and silently.

🥢 The other members of the RFA are pretty surprised when you get together. Zen and Yoosung team up together and say that Jumin doesn’t deserve you in a joking manner, though they’re still glad that you’re happy nonetheless. Jaehee probably would end up telling you over the phone that if she could ever imagine Jumin with someone beside Elizabeth the third, it’d be you.

Alternate Matchup: Gregory Violet

Alternate Matchup: Zen

#chu #black butler #matchup #black butler matchup #mystic messenger #jumin han #mystic messenger matchup #snake #black butler snake #finny kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji #finny #finnian #finnian kuroshitsuji

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01010010-posts · 5 years ago

Text

— it’s enough just to have you observe the reverse side of a dream.

connor enters the room with a pair of beers floating next to his left ear, slowly slowly reaching his brother's desk, easing down with a killing calm “you could take a break, you know.” there’s no reply as he sits on the table and takes a sip “please? we don’t have the same power?” stretching his arms is all he manages before definitely interrupting the routine of glueing his irises to the emanating monitor, grabbing a bottle and pointing it in his brother’s direction “would you be so kind? we don’t have the same power?” the hint of a sarcastic chuckle and the cap falls off. he’s free to follow into the unhealthy habit “everything’s good?” connor inquires, gulping again “yeah, sure.” he doesn’t even finish with his answer that a hummed complain discovers his lie “yeah, sure.” he gets mocked and can’t help but swell his cheeks and blow out warm air, half already exasperated. this will surely drag on for who knows how long and it’s the last thing he wants now “okay okay, joke all you want.” he doesn’t care, he’ll just continue drinking, working and go to ‘bed’ “you’re evil.” gosh, really? mumbling ‘you’re evil’ like a child is all you got, connor? “well, i suppose i am, yes. and you too. we’re both villains after all.” eight rolls his eyes while displaying an incurable smile “fine. we are. but you’re evilest.” the other is left to shrug, making an indifferent face, tasting alcohol once more “fair enough.” that’s it. he can’t anymore. connor throws his head back. he should add ‘making someone tired of speaking in a banter or less’ to the list of his superpowers. why, still after half a bottle, talking to the blood of his blood requires an exceptional effort is a mystery “i’m literally begging you” “then beg–” “don’t say then beg or— you’re impossible.” a smirk is hidden in the green glass and a soft ‘eheh’ is muttered. a pause. he’s chugged every drop left and resumes typing without advancing further in the conversation “c’mon, i’m serious.” his fingers don’t halt, faking the composure he always pretends “hey? detroit to big hacker guy??” “i’m listening.” his tone is low. of course he’s listening “that’s not the point. i want you to vent to me.” “about?” the back and forth doesn’t halt for a second, no thought feelings “you know what.” “no i don’t.” the pace is restless and connor doesn’t love this in the slightest “mhh, lemme remember— ah! right! about that certain someone who came here soaked in blood.” his brother's knuckles become white and honestly, it doesn’t take much iq to understand the emotional turmoil he’s been into. a heavy sigh “you can’t go on like this.” another less lasting pause of silence. he stops clicking the keyboard “i can. i can and i will, connor. ‘cause every time we meet it’s a disaster.” and for what? because we don’t agree about what’s good and what’s bad? or how one should live? that doesn’t change anything anyway “i— i just– every single time we’re close i forget the whole ‘enemy’ or ‘hero’ thing.... i inevitably lower my guard and i feel too exposed; or worse: accepted. and i can’t– i don’t— i don’t know what to do. i panic. i freeze. i’ve never– i’ve never felt like this. and i’m so weirded out by the situation that– that i behave as a bastard. let’s be honest, i’m often a bastard but that’s not important right now. what i’m trying to convey is that– [name], [name] bear through it all, treat it as nothing and make me feel at peace with myself, with whatever i’ve done wrong: how can they? i’m— i’m scared. i’m scared that they’ll come to hate me for real. but at the same time i’m more scared about the fact that they could come to love me too.” he needs to breathe, weighing his words because for the past minute he’s been a stammering mess, probably shaping a worried as hell connor “we’re so similar, connor. we’re two sides of a coin and we understand each other in such a way that i— at least i hope it is.” his enthusiasm dies with his speech. if you wouldn’t return his confession, that would be quite ironic, wouldn’t it?

“coming, coming” you huff, going at the door. this is not a horror movie, by the way, so you don’t open it immediately, but look at the spy-hole first. which gives you.... more questions than you had before hearing knocking at late evening. none of you dare breaking the tranquility of your tiny apartment as he goes comfortable on your orange couch, as you gesture him to do. for an instant he’s tempted to escape the agonizing ambience but he endures and overcomes the fear of approaching the topic “you’ve gone to the gym as i suggested?” his figure is crouched onwards, hands clasped, not wanting to pick at each other or just to prevent attempts for a trembling hug “.... no i haven’t. but, before you get mad, i haven’t been out since.... for two weeks.” you lower your sight, quickly in covering your mistake, and he stifles a groan, letting only his mouth go agape “i see.” you’re kinda taken aback by a so tamed retort but you pay it no mind “did you want something?” there must be a reason for his first visit, right? “i....” his phrase wonders together with his gaze, analyzing the one room fits all “how you’ve been handling with the groceries?” okay. that’s odd. but you’ll allow it “my neighbour does it for me.” “ah. mh.” and? no more? that’s even stranger “anything else?” you tease him, waiting for some sort of revelation “what?” his face watches you, a bit spaced out, that’s.... too freaky. even for him “are you on drugs? i won’t judge but– that’s not cool man.” he doesn’t laugh. and you don’t laugh. there’s nothing to laugh. you haven’t been able to laugh for months, actually “how” he hesitantly begins “how are you?” it’s as soft as he can be and, shockingly, it’s a lot “how am i? how am i....? good, why wouldn’t i?” a wavering giggle is everything he’s getting tonight, sorry “you’ve been sh—” “i am fine. don’t worry about me.” you grit your teeth, blocking what he was about to spout “no, you’re not you’re—” again you intercept his sentence “shut up, okay? shut the fuck up. either you go away or– or– or—” or i start to cry. and he’s most certainly the last person you want to see while bawling your eyes out. but it’s also, most certainly, the only person who could help soothe your tears “hey hey hey” your memories go back to when he was trying to medicate you. holding back becomes extremely difficult and you break out in sobs, wrists hovering your scalp, concealing your figure. he’s near your seat in a heartbeat, hugging you tightly, tenderly hushing your silhouette into his, until you both mold and melt into one “i hate it. i hate it. i hate every single moment. i hate not being able to go out. i hate depending on others. and i hate myself the most.” he carries on with the task of rubbing your neck and your spine, delicately drawing prayers onto your clothes, wishing for this to pass as soon as possible “i’m fucking traumatised! i could have died! you— you could have been somewhere else and i would have died of blood loss in that empty room! yet i came to you all the same! you could have not been there and i came anyway! you could have not been there and i—” over your rambling screams he murmurs in your ear “but i was there. i was there. i will always be there. i’m always here for you.” because i love you. at this point you’re two shaking chaos, grasping onto yourselves with digging nails.

#pwease don't hate me and eat this humble content #DBH #dbh connor #dbh RK900 #RK900 x reader #dbh RK900 x reader #RK900 #connor #dbh nines #nines #dbh nines x reader #nines x reader #detroit become human #dbh imagine #villain/hero AU #dbh villain/hero AU

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ghostofviperwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Something Different

Requested by: @willalwaysprotectyou

Featuring: Sanada/FC

Category: Suggestive

Word Count: 1370

Warnings: Language, talk of sex, and sexual content

12. “You know what? You’re right. I do need to get laid.”

On the wooden table in front of him Sanada’s phone buzzed pulling his attention from the newest press rules packet he had been defacing as the suit at the front of the room droned on and on about the western expansion and why it was important to put their best foot forward and blah, blah, blah.

Picking up his phone Sanada opened the message notification, being greeted with a picture of a pair of tits almost spilling out of a hot pink bra. Well, that was certainly more interesting than what he was currently engaged in. Looking at Evil who was seated to his right Sanada nudged him with his elbow and showed him the pic.

Evil nodded approvingly grabbing Sanada’s phone from his hand and typing a simple message.

“More.”

“Asshole.” Sanada said grabbing his phone back. “I didn’t want to text her back.”

“I want to see her tits.” Evil said with a shrug.

“Fine. I’ll give her your number and then she can bother you.” Sanada said earning a dirty look from Evil.

“Don’t you dare.” Evil growled.

A shadow loomed over them drawing their attention to the man glaring up at them.

“Are we keeping you two from something?” He asked. “If you can’t keep yourselves from interrupting our presentation, perhaps you should leave.”

That was all the invitation they needed, both of them standing and making a beeline for the door leaving the press officer gaping at their newly vacated seats. He had thought he was chastising them, never imagining they would actually walk out of the meeting without as much as a backwards glance.

“I didn’t think they would actually leave,” He said quietly as he resumed his spot next to his superior officer on stage.

“Of course they would. You gave them an open invitation, and now they can’t get in trouble because you told them to go.” His boss hissed.

–

As they walked towards the parking lot Sanada’s phone buzzed once again. This time Evil took the phone before Sanada even opened the message pushing Sanada away and holding the phone out of his reach as he checked out the picture message.

Instead of the tit pic he was expecting he found a full length pic of her spread out on a bed revealing her whole body encased in the pink lingerie set.

“That wasn’t what I wanted to see.” Evil typed back with an aggravated huff.

“What the hell is she playing at?” Evil asked Sanada as they arrived at their cars. Evil ignored Sanada’s hand reaching out expectantly for his phone when another message pinged. A message coyly asking what it was he wanted to see from her.

“That is why I don’t text back.” Sanada said giving up his attempts to recover his phone and leaning against his car as he watched Evil’s agitation grow. “Now you’ve engaged her and she thinks she’s special. If you would’ve left it on read she would be texting pictures of her snatch by now.”

Evil grumbled irritably tossing the phone back to Sanada.

“You can deal with her. Fucking twit is too stupid to know I want tit pics I’m done with her.” He said.

“This is how you deal with her.” Sanada said pulling up the contact and pressing the block button. “Easy.”

Rolling his eyes Evil leaned back on the bumper of his truck looking over the parking lot.

“Let’s get out of here before they decide to drag us back in there.” Sanada said pushing off his car and moving to the driver’s door. “Want to come have a few beers?”

Evil nodded in agreement, climbing into his own vehicle to follow Sanada to his house.

Once they were at Sanada’s they went straight to the game room, Sanada pulling beers out of the fully stocked bar and tossing one to Evil before the headed to the pool table.

“She a good fuck?” Evil asked referring to the newly blocked lingerie girl as he racked up the balls.

“She was in my phone.” Sanada said by way of response.

“You’re gonna block a good fuck because she sucks at texting?” Evil asked selecting a pool cue and motioning for Sanada to break.

“I’ve got a lot of good fucks in my phone.” Sanada said with a snap of his stick sending balls crashing over the table.

“Stripes.” He called moving around to line up his next shot.

After sinking a few balls it was Evil’s turn, Sanada leaning against the wall and drinking his beer as his tag partner lined up shots with precision burying them with ease. Making himself comfortable by hopping up on the stool Sanada watched as Evil methodically cleared the table. This always happened. He didn’t know why he bothered playing pool with Evil. Sanada knew why Evil always let him break, just so Sanada would get a few shots in before Evil ran the table.

Sanada flipped off Evil as he grinned smugly while the eight ball sunk into the side pocket.

“Want me to rack them up again?” Evil asked making no effort to reach for the rack. He knew Sanada’s answer.

“No thanks. I’ve had my ass kicked enough today.” Sanada said wryly. “Air hockey.” He nodded towards the table in the corner while Evil grumbled. As good as he was at pool, Evil was equally bad at air hockey.

“Alright I’ll take my ass kicking.” Evil said flipping the switch to activate the table. “Provided you order some sushi and pizza. I’m starving.”

“Sushi and pizza?” Sanada complained wrinkling his nose. “That’s disgusting. One or the other fine, But together?”

“Just fucking order the food pretty boy.” Evil ordered.

Once their order was placed the pair commenced their game, the puck flying fast and hard over the surface. They only called it a game when the food arrived, straggling upstairs to gather their food, and take up residence in the living room Evil finding a baseball game on the TV.

“If you combine those I swear I will punch you in the fucking face,” Sanada warned as he watched Evil piling slices of pizza and sushi onto his plate.

“Live a little.” Evil scoffed. “It’s good.” Challengingly staring at Sanada, Evil put a couple of rolls on his slice and wrapped them in the crust taking a big gooey bite with relish.

“I think I just threw up in my mouth.” Sanada said looking peckish while he grabbed his beer and took several deep swallows.

“You’re so uptight today man. Relax.” Evil said through his mouthful. “I think you need to get laid.”

“Lack of sex is not my problem.” Sanada said wryly.

“Lack of good sex then.” Evil said sagely, his head nodding as he grew enamored with his theory.

“I have plenty of good sex.” Sanada argued hotly.

“I’m talking dirty, nasty, make you sick when you think about it afterwards sex man.” Evil said. “With those dirty girls that make you scared you’re going to catch something.”

“I don’t like skanks.” Sanada said with a roll of his eyes. “You know that.”

“I do know that.” Evil agreed. “But you gotta have that freaky shit sometimes. It’s invigorating. Almost spiritual. I bet the last time you let a dirty girl near you was when we went out last year, wasn’t it?”

Sanada conceded with a nod, admitting the last time he had slummed it had been when out celebrating with Evil. Despite his protestations, there was a part of him that had missed that so dirty you wanted to shower when you were done feeling.

They settled into silence, the baseball game catching Evil’s attention, but Sanada couldn’t stop replaying Evil’s words in his head. He had been bored lately. Maybe he needed something different to get himself back on track.

“You know what? You’re right. I do need to get laid.” He surprised himself by speaking up and could see he had surprised Evil too. “I need some hot dirty sex.”

Evil grinned and rose to his feet.

“I know the perfect place. Let’s go.”

#sanada fanfic #sanada imagine #njpw fanfic #wrestling fanfic #mywriting #ghostofviperwrites

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gwenbrightly · 6 years ago

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Elements

Oh look! My brain decided to create a random drabble about elemental powers instead of focusing on OMAC… Oops. I guess Misako's appearance will have to wait… All the headcanons and stories I've been reading lately that mention Lloyd's powers acting up when he gets emotional made the temptation to write this too great. So yeah. This one shot can probably be considered a part of Of Milk and Cookies, and takes place just after the chapter titled Awkward. I hope you enjoy!

Elemental powers are weird, Lloyd muses early one morning not too long after their visit to Darkley's Boarding School. He can control his now – sorta – and the others can do some pretty amazing stuff with theirs – like being able to lift a sports car with your pinkie. Or spark fire with a snap of your fingers (literally). Or charge your phone using only your own energy. Or meditate inside of a freezer for hours on end without getting cold (okay, maybe he hadn't been around for that). All those things are incredibly cool, and Lloyd's not complaining, because someday he'll be able to do all of that too, which is super exciting. He can't wait, really.

But sometimes... Sometimes having powers isn't exactly the best. He's been around this weird, dorky family of his long enough to notice that there are days where things get a little out of wack. Where Kai or Zane get emotional and the temperature around them suddenly changes to the extreme, or any number of other bizarre side effects. Just last week, Lloyd walked into their skimpy apartment only to feel his hair immediately begin defying gravity due to the sheer amount of electricity filling the air. Puns involving shocking had most definitely been made. Cole and Jay's latest argument (See: whether or not pineapple is an acceptable topping for pizza) had gotten a little... heated, and the master of lightning's powers had acted up as a result. It wasn't the first time this sort of thing had happened, and the blonde is pretty sure it won't be the last. Still, he has to admit that it's a little (a lot) unnerving to deal with the aftermath of an elemental outburst... Especially... now that he's experienced his own for the first time... Okay, he'll admit it – that's the real reason he's up right now – not because he was craving poptarts. Which is what he plans to tell the others if they question it. Not that they're awake, so he's safe. For the time being, at least. Maybe he can get this glass cleaned up and replace the lightbulb before anyone finds out? If he's lucky. Lloyd slips over to the meager set of cupboards that they've installed in one corner. They have to be keeping some extra lightbulbs around here somewhere... Honestly, given what's happened during training, he really shouldn't be surprised that his latest nightmare ended with him blowing up their light source – it had been so vivid, and just… he'd woken up terrified. He hates feeling like that. He'd stared at the mess for quite some time, too shocked to do anything about it at first, but. Having all that power running through his veins was guaranteed to catch up with him eventually. He knows that, but it doesn't make attempting to quietly remove broken glass from the floor any less of a struggle. Carefully picking up the largest piece of what used to be a lightbulb, Lloyd shoves it in the garbage. Bit by bit, the debris begins to disappear. The green ninja has managed to dispose of most it by the time someone else wakes up (it's impressive that it took this long, to tell the truth). It's Nya, of course, trying hard to cover up the fact that she isn't a morning person (at all). The girl seems to have some sort of magical sensing abilities that activate whenever he's in trouble. She gives him a concerned look before wordlessly grabbing a fresh lightbulb from a shelf too high for him to reach. The samurai drags their one whole rickety stool over to the socket and screws it in with a large yawn. Then, Nya gives the floor a quick scan, looking for any remaining hazards that might exist. There are none.

"So. I earned some extra cash at the autobody shop yesterday. Wanna go get some donuts?" The girl asks her adoptive brother, eventually.

"Huh?" Lloyd stares at her, not fully processing the question. She shakes her head with a sigh. Clearly today's gonna be a rough one. He really could stand to get away from the apartment for awhile – to decompress and all that therapeutic stuff you're supposed to do when you're dealing with emotional triggers.

"Donuts, Lloyd. You know, those pastries police men are so obsessed with? I'm leaving in five with or without you." His mind may not immediately get what she's saying, but his stomach certainly does. Growl.

"That's a yes, then?" Nya says, smirking.

"Sure. Okay." He replies with a shrug, because donuts do sound awfully good, now that he thinks about it and. He's not gonna pass up the opportunity to eat something other than off brand cereal for breakfast. That would be completely out of character, no matter what the reason for doing so is. They slip out of the apartment, careful not to wake the others (though Cole's definitely going to be offended if he finds out about it later) and wander down the sidewalk. As it turns out, the nearest donut shop is less than a block away. The smell of freshly fried dough greets the pair as they push the door open. Mmm… It's only when she notices the distinct lack of customers inside that Nya realizes how early it is. A glance at her phone (which she probably should've checked before they left) tells her it's not even 5:30 yet. Oh well, if the place is open, it's not like they're intruding or anything. Lloyd perks up noticeably when she lets him pick out his own donut – a questionable decision, since he immediately chooses the one with as much frosting as humanly possible and a thick coating of rainbow sprinkles. It even has gummy worms on it. A part of her wants to scold him for being so unhealthy, but the grin on his face. She can't. So, she selects a donut of her own (powdered sugar with raspberry filling) and hands the drowsy cashier a bill. They find themselves a booth near the windows lining the front of the store and enjoy their breakfast in silence for a few minutes before Nya says anything to Lloyd.

"So. Nightmare?"

"Yup." He tells her in a small voice, playing absent mindedly with one of his gummy worms.

"I kinda figured." She comments wearily, "You gonna be okay?"

"Dunno. Hope so."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"I-I…. Don't really remember much about the dream itself… Just… It was so freaky to wake up with the light going crazy… and then it exploded, and I've never had my powers go out of control on me like that and…" Nya wraps a comforting arm around the blonde's shoulders. He leans against her, regretting having been woken up so early, and perhaps still a little shaken by the events that transpired earlier.

"I'm sure it was pretty freaky… You know you can always wake on of us up if you need to, right?" Lloyd nods unconvincing. There are no tears, surprisingly, which Nya takes as a good sign.

"I know… And I was gonna. Eventually. But I wanted to take care of the glass first – so nobody stopped on it. Thanks for helping. With the lightbulb. Being short sucks sometimes."

"Course it does. But it's gonna suck even more someday when you finally stop being such a pipsqueak and end up taller than me." Asserts the samurai. He giggles weakly.

"You don't know that that's what's gonna happen… maybe you'll get lucky?"

"I guess you have a point there. But seriously, if you have any more issues with your powers, I'm here to help. And so are the others. I mean, Kai accidentally set his bunk on fire when he first got his true potential… Maybe you should talk to him about this – I'm sure he'd understand…" Kai is a pretty okay listener from what Lloyd's seen at this point. He probably wouldn't have convinced himself to revisit Darkley's without him.

"M'kay. I'll think about it." He decides through a mouthful of donut, "Not right now though? I kinda just wanna forget about the whole thing…"

"That's valid. This can be our little secret. Betcha the guys aren't even awake yet." The girl agrees, figuring he'll share more when he's ready. She's not gonna push him. This time.

"They're really missing out. This donut is delicious." Lloyd tells her, clearly done talking about powers, nightmares, or anything related. Life's really not so bad when you've got an awesome older sister to buy you junk good. Even if it is only because your elemental abilities went haywire in your sleep.

"Totally. But they don't need to know anything about that. You, on the other hand, will be taking a nap as soon as training is over for the day. And I don't meaning laying around reading comic books. Actually sleeping will be expected." Nya stated, giving him a pointed look.

"What? But that's not fair! I just got a new one!" Lloyd groans indignantly.

"And I'm sure you find plenty of time to read it eventually. However, you also need your rest, so that's gonna have to be a priority for now." Deep down, he knows she's right. He just doesn't plan on admitting it. So, he decides to focus on what's left of the mound of pastry, frosting, and sprinkles instead. He feels better now, anyway.

" So, that happened?" Lloyd says one day, several years down the road, as he stares at a soaking wet Kai. He's not even sure where that much water could possibly have come from.

"Uh... Oh my gosh, Kai, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to..." Nya apologizes, attempting to use her abilities to draw the moisture away from her brother.

"I mean, we all knew it was gonna happen eventually. S'not that big of a deal. But you do owe me a new tube of hair gel..." He shrugs, not particularly concerned. The reason for their... Disagreement isn't important anymore. Things have been tense for everyone since the battle with Morro. He just wants her to be okay. She's not exactly the biggest fan of her elemental powers in the first place.

"Yeah. That's fair." She agrees after a second, looking sheepish.

"Happens to all of us." Lloyd reminds her, "Wanna go get some donuts?"

#ninjago #ninjago fanfiction #my fics #lloyd #nya #kai #elemental powers #side effects #stuff explodes #but donuts make things better

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worseandworser · 6 years ago

Text

Idiosyncratic (2/2)

Ship: RoyEd

Summary: Ed ran his fingers over the papers, tracing the drafty lines with the tip of his nails. It was so different from Mustang’s handwriting; free and simple, almost as if he’d done it thoughtlessly. The doodles covered the back page of a badly printed document, that Ed supposed the man had mean to throw away and, instead of doing so, decided to sketch. Edward was no connoisseur of the fine arts but he could admit that the Colonel was a good drawer. Even if he had a few objections regarding the themes of these drawings.

Rating: Teen and Up

Warnings/tags: artist!Roy, multichapter (2/2), possibly humorous, Ed is 18 in my head always since that’s my current age but Alphonse is still in armor form, so in case this bothers you be warned of… teen?

you can read this at my ao3 profile as well!

Hawkeye took a day off.

Edward had always thought that whenever something like that happened, the office would immediately turn into chaos. He’d never been around before to experience it, considering it was such a rare occurrence and Ed traveled consistently. Actually, it was so rare that sometimes he wondered if it wasn’t just a myth, another one of Breda’s tales.

But apparently it did happen, and Edward was now a witness as well. Surprisingly, the office was still functional in general; the main change laid on the atmosphere.

The room acquired this casual air. Jean Havoc yawned a lot and sometimes whistled while doing his job. Breda could eat on duty, not minding the crumbles falling on the documents. Mustang left his inner office exile to occupy Hawkeye’s desk, with his own papers spread over the area as if he owned it. Kain Fuery, who had been sharing his table with Edward for today, chugged coffee down as if it was water and hummed popular songs. The only who appeared to be unaffected was Falman, but his shoulders had a slight slump denouncing that he too felt more relaxed.

However, the work took the double time to get finished because they talked. And it was awful because the report was boring, so Ed couldn’t even properly focus and tune the noise out.

The ones doing the most of it were Heymans and Jean. At some points of the conversation, Edward just wanted to smack them in the head — they kept talking about girls and, honestly, who the fuck cared if Claire had a nice ass? Mustang sometimes chimed in, offering a few comments himself, and Breda rolled his eyes when those were too formidable.

At the moment, the topic was who-could-make-Kain-more-uncomfortable and — although it started with heavy sexual innuendos — it now involved Jean Havoc loudly cracking his spine. Each snap of joints brought out another hiss from the poor Sergeant. Breda decided to twist his eyelids upwards, and Edward was sure Kain would be passing out at any moment. Vato scowled at Mustang, who couldn’t stop himself from chuckling at the blond second-lieutenant twisting on the chair.

"When I was a kid,” said Breda, “I could dislocate my shoulder and put it back.”

Falman frowned, "That’s not very healthy.”

"Who cares? I bet I could make Kain throw up with that.”

“You guys are so mean,” the man in question sighed resignedly, dropping his head on the table next to Edward’s arm, “Why can’t you just mind your own business like Edward?”

Ed’s head snapped up, forgetting completely about the report he was writing. Four pairs of eyes on him and, fuck, all he’s ever wanted to do was write his damn shit down; now, he had to deal with that. He didn’t even have time to voice a word before Jean laughed.

”Yo, boss, I’m sure you can do a lot of freaky stuff too, uh.”

Kain went three shades paler and Ed rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, so what?”

”What kind?,” interjected Breda, sounding way too interested.

He could have said many things. I can touch my ear with my foot or I can move my nose like a fucking bunny. Or something else, really, he could do many ‘freaky stuff’. But the Colonel was looking at him; that stupid eyebrow quirked up in amusement and Ed felt the sudden urge to wipe the floor with that expression. He stared at Mustang dead in the eye and announced in the most casual way possible:

”I can do a full split.”

The brow went down in record time. Breda let out an impressed whistle and Kain jumped back to a sitting position.

”For real...?,” Havoc inquired, squinting his eyes at him, “I don’t believe you.”

Edward shrugged, “Whatever.”

ask me to do it ask me to do it holy shit just ask me to do it

”Do it!,” dared Breda.

Edward sighed, groaning as if the simple request was the most tiresome ordeal. Fuery’s mood improved significantly with the prospect of witnessing the blond doing a split, and Ed had to count that as another pro.

He stood up and got rid of the red coat, slowly stretching his arms above his head as he looked around for good spot. The area right in front of Hawkeye’s — currently, Mustang’s — desk was clean and Ed couldn’t be luckier. Oh, the visual the Colonel would get... The man would be doing anatomic sketches on that for weeks.

”You’re not really going to do it, right?”

Mustang’s voice — so confused, majestically thrown out of balance — only encouraged him further. The monster inside of Ed’s belly wanted that bafflement to reach his features; or maybe just to soften his eyes a little bit, make him look at Ed the same way he did before the stupid assignment on the west. He positioned himself in the middle of the room.

"Is this against one of your stupid rules, Colonel?”

He began slowly spreading his legs, and the exclamations rose around him.

Roy offered him a stern look, “Fullmetal”

And Ed gracefully slid down to the floor, one foot in front of him and the other behind. It was flawless, obviously, he’d done this countless times before; he did enjoy pushing his body to its very limit. Then, just because, he threw his head back, curling his spine in an audacious stretch, and yawned.

”You little shit!,” exclaimed Breda right before turning to Havoc, “I knew he could do it!”

Edward wanted so bad to look at Mustang’s face. Anxiousness coiled in his stomach and the heat prickled from his ears down to his neck. He closed his legs and stood up. With a hammering heart, he finally turned to look at the man—

—who was reading the paperwork and tapping his pen against the desk.

His stomach dropped like a stone, the dread settled deep into his guts. The others kept going on and on about Ed’s flexibility like it was something otherworldly, and Roy for the first time today seemed to completely ignore the chatter. Head lowered and eyes stuck to the printed words; if it was all an act, it was a damn good one.

Edward went back to his place next to Kain, trying his best to smile at whatever supposedly funny thing Jean had just said. As he sat, he risked one more glance at the man: he had a frown and Ed could only hope it was from concentration and not annoyance.

When Ed had no missions, the brothers dedicated themselves to their search. The library became their home and they devoured the books, piling up notes and sources. Edward lived for those periods, when he could spend days in a row doing what he and Alphonse loved the most.

His concentration was not at its peak these days, though. He had been doing his best to hide it from Alphonse, mostly to avoid the tricky questions that would probably get to confess things he didn’t really want to. Whenever his mind started wandering too much, he would drop the book he was reading and grab another, simple as that. If Al thought anything of the unusual dynamic studying, he certainly didn’t voice it.

But Edward did not need his brother to see that things were only worsening. He could tell when the last straw was there, and this time it was insomnia.

It wasn’t like it had never happened to him before. However, the nightmares were not the main issue. His dreams were fine — actually, Edward couldn’t remember having finer ones — and what bothered him was exactly that. Some would make his skin burn and his body tremble, leave his lungs spasming in soft pants. He would open his eyes deliriously, reaching out for pale skin that wasn’t really there.

The others were rarer, but their bare existence made Edward squirm in loathing. These were the worst: they made him hurt in the wrong places, and the pain could not be quelled by a cold shower. He despised them and loved them equally, even though he would never admit to the last. And he could never, not after waking up mid-smile trying to press himself further into the mattress.

That was the last straw. He need— he needed, no idea what it was that he needed but he did and in the end it’s all that matters.

A week after the “full split incident”, he went to Mustang’s office.

Hawkeye had even commented that Edward willingly coming to headquarters was a delightful surprise, which probably meant that she was astounded with the action. Breda tried to make him join a bet for a free lunch, but since Ed knew better than to bet anything with the redhead, he just laughed and made his way to the inner room.

He realized a bit too late that this had been an awful idea.

Mustang eyed him up and down from between the stacks of files. It was so, so quick, and yet it made all these tiny needles prickle his skin. He stood by the door, waiting. A word, an order, a joke about his stature, anything. The Colonel gave him nothing.

Ed cleared his throat, attempting to get the man’s attention.

“Fullmetal,” the voice was like a low rumble, “I don’t recall requesting your presence.”

The tone was dull. Dull, dull, dull, and Roy had never, ever spoken to him like that. Edward caught himself recoiling, pressing against the wooden surface behind him like a cornered animal.

“I— uh, I’ve been wondering if…”

He closed his hands in tight fists, carving cuts like crescent moons on his palm. That’s not like him. That’s not like Mustang, yes, but most importantly that’s not like him. He’s not shy or meak and he was not going to become any of these things because a stupid man was not looking at him. Oh, so Mustang was pissed? Well, than Ed would make him more pissed.

“I want a mission.”

He didn’t. Not really. And he was certain that would not be the first lie he would be telling today.

“I don’t have an assignment fit for your abilities at the moment, Major,” he explained, “Maybe you could use this break to move forward with your alchemical research.”

“I need a mission because I’m supposed to move forward, damn it,” Ed snapped, “Central has nothing for us.”

Lies. Lies, lies, and lies.

Their conversation was punctuated by the soft scratch scratch of Mustang’s signature. Edward was sure he had never seen the man this concentrated on his work before.

“There must be a section in the library you and your brother have not ravished yet.”

look at me look at me why the fuck aren’t you looking at me

Edward crossed his arms even though the Colonel could not see the irritation radiating from his body language, “Or you can stop being a bastard and give me some shit to do.”

scratch scratch scratch

“Fullmetal, I already said that I have nothing for you,” he calmly stated, “Stop trying to blame me for your lack of progress. Dismissed.”

Edward’s jaw fell open.

“What the fuck are you—”

“I said dismissed, Fullmetal.”

The man was still leafing through the paperwork and Ed couldn’t understand a thing anymore. He was torn between frustration and bafflement, his face heating up even if he didn’t feel embarrassed at all. His hands trembled; he had never wanted so bad to disappear and at the same time beg to just be noticed.

“Blaming you for my lack of progress?!,” he gritted his teeth, seething, “Seriously, all I did was fucking ask—”

He was interrupted by the sound of the pen falling from the Flame Alchemist’s fingers. Or better yet, of it being thrown on the desk. Roy pressed his face against his palms, taking a deep breath and then running a hand through his hair. His eyes finally settled on Ed, and the dark circles under them made him look thoroughly worn-out.

“And I said I have no assignments for you,” he insisted, “Now, please, leave.”

He sounded forlorn as if Ed’s simple presence could exhaust him to his very limit. Edward’s chest tightened painfully and he just wanted to get out of this goddamned room, to leave the weight behind. And at the same time he wanted to come closer — to pull closer, to comfort, even if all the misery had been caused by him.

Ed opened his mouth to protest, but the sounds died before reaching his tongue.

“You were the one who said that if I wanted you out, I should just ask,” he whispered, shoulders slumping slightly, “Please, Edward.”

The blond gave him a curt nod and left.

Ed was in an undeniable bad mood, to the point that Alphonse could obviously sense it. Adding that to an alluring Sunday morning and the younger Elric had the perfect excuse for a break. A well-deserved one. And thus, they decided to go to the best place to appreciate a warm day: the park.

Alphonse was thrilled with the prospect of spending the day “having fun” with his older brother. Edward couldn’t quite understand why it was so much different from studying together, but apparently, the change of environment meant a lot to Al. The young alchemist had to go along with it, follow the younger around the trees and bushes. As Alphonse alternated between petting dogs and making scientific observations about random plants, Edward was disturbed by a different type of cold.

It was overwhelming. Coiled in the pit of the stomach and steadily spreading over his body like a disease. What was this…? Edward frowned at nothing particularly, drained and confused. The world seemed to keep going, but Ed felt stuck on the previous page, unable to take a step in any direction.

He shivered as he remembered the harsh words from yesterday. He’d been replaying his conversation with Mustang in his head over and over again. A ridiculous attempt to understand the exact moment he had slipped, when things had turned sour and… opaque.

Because that was the word, right? Roy’s eyes had been opaque.

Or maybe it was all in his head. Maybe he had read too much into the whole thing; their involvement and those fucking drawings. He should have never looked at the stupid things, just some random sketches that had probably been done without thought. Kicking a rock out of his way, Ed wondered how long it would take for him to completely bury this gnawing sensation.

“Stop trying to blame me for your lack of progress.”

Edward wanted to hit something. Or himself, perhaps. He could not afford to be like this — moping, whining, mourning for something that had never been alive, to begin with. Clenching his fists, he made his decision: to hell with Mustang. To hell with his artistic shit. To hell with the furtive glances and the licking lips and the churning stomach. Fuck Roy Mustang and all the unprofessional feelings that had wormed their way into their professional relationship.

They were nothing but a subordinate and a pathetic excuse of a commanding officer. And it ended there.

Alphonse broke his chain of thought by loudly pointing:

“Look, Brother! That dog over there looks like Black Hayate!”

The small animal was loose and came bouncing in the boy’s direction, Alphonse’s arms stretching instantly offering pets. As leather fingers excitedly threaded through black fur and the short tail wagged excitedly, Ed’s attention turned to the figure approaching them with an empty leash.

Edward smiled and waved, “I think that is Black Hayate, Al.”

He almost didn’t recognize her. Riza Hawkeye in comfortable civilian clothes and loose hair, step with a relaxed sway that Edward had never expected to see. But she still stood firmly, and Ed would not risk taking her for granted — Riza was The Hawk’s Eye and he was sure she could be alert and dangerous even if she wasn’t intending to.

“Miss Hawkeye!” exclaimed Alphonse, “Isn’t it dangerous to let Hayate like this?”

“Not really, he’s a smart dog,” she smiled, pulling a straying strand of blond hair behind her ear, “It’s nice to see you two out here.”

Alphonse beamed, “Yes! It took me a lot but I finally convinced Brother to take a break…”

At that point, Edward was drifting off again. It wasn’t that the conversation was tremendously boring — although mundane stuff was often exactly that — but he just had other things to do. Such as being angry at Roy Mustang.

Or at himself. It was Ed’s fault, in the end. He couldn’t stop listing ‘what if’s — what if he had never looked at the drawings, what if he hadn’t let Roy’s glances mess him up that much, what if he had never tried to test the man’s limits. Ridiculous, useless thoughts — but he had them anyway.

The blond felt a tremor run up and down his arms and he wanted to punch himself. How could he turn into this because of a crush, dammit?! Ed had been sure nothing would ever happen, what had changed his mind in the past week?

i want him to keep looking at me

Edward sighed. Hawkeye was staring at him with a funny expression, and he could guess he'd been a bit loud.

Alphonse was obviously going to question, and the woman intervened, “Alphonse, I brought a toy for Black Hayate, why don’t you throw it for him?”

The helmet alternated between Riza and the older sibling, and Al accepted his fate with few protests, “Ugh, I’m not a kid, you don’t need to push me away for grown up talks…”

Edward’s indignant snort was completely ignored by the younger. Alphonse took the toy from the lieutenant hands and called for Black Hayate, who gladly followed the clanking armor.

The instant they were out of hearing range, she turned to Ed; her brows held a determined frown and she pressed her lips together in what Ed assumed was worry.

“If not him, then you,” she breathed out, “What happened yesterday?”

“What the—”

“Edward, you left the office looking miserable,” Edward looked down and something told him that Riza had averted her gaze as well, “And his mood turned... bad.”

He straightened up at that, “His mood…?”

“The Colonel’s, of course.”

Riza had said that as if it was already obvious. Common knowledge she had no idea how could Ed have missed. It wasn’t, Ed was pretty sure of that.

“He hasn’t really been on his best for the past week,” explained her, “He’s been working too much, and that usually means he is trying to take his mind off something.

“And then, after your visit, he stopped functioning altogether… He kept glancing at the clock nonstop, I had to hide away the important papers because he spilled coffee all over his desk twice,” palming her temples in distress, she sighed tiredly, “You see, I have serious reasons to believe he was having a mental breakdown.”

Edward frowned, “And that was after I left yesterday?”

Riza nodded.

“I still don’t get what I have to do with it.”

“I have suspicions, but I thought you should be the one to tell me that.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He’s dramatic,” shrugging, the lieutenant crossed her arms, “And he has the tendency to blow things out of proportion and wallow in self-hatred. Both of you do, actually, but it’s easier to get you to talk because you're blunt.”

“The fuck you mean with—”

“I mean,” she cut him, “That I’m worried about you, and I want to help you two to sort things out.”

Edward raised his arms in frustration.

“And I’m telling you I have no idea of what’s happening! It’s not like I get him either!”

“You look like shit, he looks like shit,” insisted Riza, “and I’m sure if you two would just sit down and talk like the adults you pretend to be, everything would—”

“Stop talking as if I can change his bad mood, that makes no fucking sense! You’re the one who said he’s like that because of me! Mustang hates me!”

“That’s not true, Edward,” said she with much conviction, “And you know that already.”

It shouldn’t be that easy to want to talk to Mustang. Minutes ago, Ed would have sworn to never even think about the bastard, nevermind talking to him; he shoved his hands inside of his pants' pockets and looked down. Did she know? About the glances, the oddly cold thing buzzing around them every time they spoke? If Alphonse did already — maybe not the depth of it, but the fact they existed — nothing stopped someone as perceiving as Hawkeye to read through him. Still, it did not excuse the sudden urge he had to tell her. She understood Mustang better than him, had known him for a longer time and he could ask her.

Except that he couldn’t, right…?

“Hey, don’t act as if it’s the end of the world.”

His eyes found hers the exact moment she placed a hand on his shoulders, fondness curving her lips upwards in a warm but still contained smile. Edward blinked in surprise, not used to such personal contacts with the Lieutenant.

“Just promise me you will try, okay? I’m sure if you talk, you’ll be able to forgive him.”

Ed snorted, “why’d you assume he’s the wrong one here?”

Riza looked at him apologetically, the smile growing a bit as if compensating for a further comfort she couldn’t offer.

“Because he usually is.”

It took him a total of five days to gather the courage to approach Mustang. Two of them were Alphonse nagging him about his conversation with the lieutenant, and the remaining three were Alphonse nagging him to keep his promise with the lieutenant. All five of them included low concentration on daily tasks and staring off into the distance with a melancholic expression.

He hit the dead end of procrastination at Friday night, laying on his bed at the dorms with Alphonse nagging — he couldn’t handle it anymore, his patience had hit its limit. Ed screamed, groaned, twisted and turned, while Al rolled figurative eyes.

“Fine!” he had screamed, “I’ll go and talk to him today if that makes you shut up about it!”

“Brother, it’s Friday night,” the younger Elric had calmly advised, “if you go now it will only add more drama to your current drama.”

But Ed had already stormed out without glancing back.

It took him a few blocks to remember he didn’t know where Roy lived and a wave of relief washed through him. Even if postponing the encounter meant dealing with Alphonse for a few more days.

Wandering through the streets, however, proved to be a highly effective way to avoid going back to pestering little brothers. The breeze chilled the night; not enough to dishevel Edward's hair, but to feel a bit like soft caresses whenever it touched his skin. The area around the dorms was mostly residential, only from time to time, one could spot movement — a car honking, drunken men going back to their homes, occasional gossiping meetings. Ed knew though, that if you walked enough, you could find the nightlife of Central.

The city was known for more than being the capital. If you listened to talks — which Ed did, and that meant only that he was interested in keeping up with the social events and nothing more — you would know. The four soldiers talking about the recently opened bar, the man looking at a suspicious ad on an alley, the women commenting about the new show house… If there was one thing that Edward liked about Central, was how the city never truly slept. Somewhere, there was someone doing something.

It made the environment feel like an unstoppable machine, like an alchemical array being constantly injected with energy.

As soon as he stepped into the night hub, the collective euphoria hit him like a punch. Rows and rows of bars, clubs, pubs and other questionable places, filled with the most variant faces Central could offer. And the best of it: Edward could pick any of them.

Strolling through the sea of tables invading the sidewalk, Ed checked the clientele of each establishment. He wasn’t exactly looking for a drink, but rather a spot he could waste time in. The thought of going back to Alphonse after failing the Mustang Situation seemed pathetic; maybe he could grab some food before resigning himself to the endless mocking.

A hand curled around his forearm, and Ed had the metal fist ready to break a nose—

—until he found the ridiculously black eyes.

“What the fuck, Mustang?,” he pulled his arm away, “You scared the hell outta me! I was going to punch you, you idiot!”

The man blinked, incredulous.

“Do you have the habit of punching people who approach you?”

“If they come creeping from behind, yes!”

"I wasn’t creeping...," followed by a mumbled an apology.

The blond rolled his eyes, “What do you even want?”

i thought you’d never want to talk to me again

“ I just— well, I was enjoying a drink at that nice bar around the corner when you, how can I say…” he raised his brows, the beginning of smile showing on the corners of his lips, “Stepped inside for around 3 seconds and then ran out?”

Edward felt the blush creeping up his cheeks.

“I was just checking the place.”

“Oh, and I assume it didn’t satisfy your exquisite tastes?”

The young alchemist stared at him. A long, critical stare; analyzing and over analyzing the man’s features, assessing the information hidden there. It was a light tone, playful even, as if Roy was making one of the infamous short jokes or maybe… was that flirting? Or was it to familiar to be? Ed had no idea. A few days ago Roy sounded as if he’d wanted to get rid of Ed for good and now this?

Feeling as if walking on crystal bridge over a ferocious river, he smirked.

“It can’t be that good, I mean, you like it, uh?”

Roy made a face and Edward could swear he heard the floor was cracking.

Then the sound of laughter overcame it.

“That’s a fairly good point,” the man said, a bit breathlessly, “I must give that to you.”

And the conversation died at that, leaving two men standing in the middle of Central’s loudest street. Their eyes locked, and for a few seconds, Edward saw that lurking exhaustion within the Colonel’s irises.

“Fullmetal, I—”

“We need to talk.” Edward blurted out.

Then all scraps of emotion were hidden again.

“Yes,” he nodded slowly, “we probably should.”

Edward glanced at the people around them, “Let’s go somewhere else.”

Understanding, Roy arched his brows and motioned for Ed to follow him.

Mustang lived in an apartment. Which was completely unexpected, since Edward had always thought of him as the ‘opulent townhouse’ type — although he had to admit the ‘bachelor cave’ one also fit.

It was simple. Not large, not small, not decorated, not empty, too average. The lack of personality gave the impression it was inhabited by a person living a rushed, unstable life, as if Mustang could just up and leave at any moment. However, it did not felt uncomfortable; not precisely cozy, but familiar. Like a coffee shop you frequent so much, that the seat in the corner has your butt’s shape or something like that.

The only remarkable aspects were two empty bottles of whiskey on the coffee table, and Ed didn’t really want to think about those. Roy got rid of them pretty quickly.

Edward sat on the very far end of the couch, and Roy took the other corner. He felt like an intruder, invading the other’s space like this. The Flame Alchemist had his head lowered, looking at the hands on his lap.

“So,” Roy started.

“So.”

Silence.

“Did Hawkeye…?”

“No.”

The man eyed Ed.

“Maybe a little,” muttered the blond, embarrassed, “And Alphonse too but you could’ve guessed that.”

“What would we be without them, really…”

Edward snorted, “I don’t know about me, but you’d be a total slacker.”

A strained laugh. And silence.

Lots of silence.

Roy sighed and finally raised his head, changing his position to seat tuned to Edward. The blond wasn’t very fond of the idea of getting any closer to the other, so he just relaxed a little, laying his weight back against the cushions.

The words he wished to say kept coming and going, never staying long enough in his mind to be spoken. He didn’t have a whole speech planned, but the outlines of what he ought to talk about had been pretty defined. Or at least, before he actually got to the point he had to actually talk. Taking a deep breath, he tried to form a single sentence that could actually be spoken, but Roy beat him to it:

“I should probably apologize.”

Ed’s eyes widened, “Wh—”

“I was rude with you when you went to my office,” he rubbed his nape and Edward saw the fingers tugging at the short hair there, “These days have been a mess but that’s not justifiable, I’m sorry for lashing out on you that way.”

“It’s fine, really, you were pretty tired back then,” crossing his arms, the young alchemist uneasily attempted to seem more comfortable, “Actually, you still look like sh— uh, tired.”

“Seriously?”

Edward looked at him. At those crumpled clothes and stubble and the slightly messier than usual hair. Roy’s fingers kept twitching and his back was too straight for someone who had just come from a casual night out at a bar.

“Yeah, you have these bags under your eyes and shit.”

Roy chuckled dryly, “I slept a reasonable amount of time last night, thought they would be gone by now.”

Edward thought this was a nice moment to try to get a bit closer. So he did, too aware of the cushions shifting underneath him and the piercing gaze to his side.

“Hm, so, Colon—”

Or better yet:

“Roy, is everything alright?”

The man frowned.

“I need you to be more specific.”

“With you,” and then quietly: “With us.”

Understanding flashed over Roy’s features — only to be immediately replaced by pain. He winced, and Ed’s body slumped a bit in response.

“That depends more on you.”

Edward shivered.

“I know you said it was fine,” he continued, “but there’s something else I should apologize for.”

With a deep, shuddering breath Roy let his head fall on top of the backrest, in a way that allowed to keep looking at Edward straight in the eyes.

“A while ago, I noticed a few… changes on your behavior,” Roy smiled and Ed could swear it was because of the blush attacking his cheeks once again, “And although it was pleasing initially, it became a bit uncomfortable.”

Oh, thought Ed, so this is what being dumped feels like.

“Not only because of the risks it brought for both us, but also because it made really happy,” he grimaced, “And I thought you were playing with my feelings.”

Ed’s jaw dropped.

“What feelings?”

Roy snapped back to a sitting position and raised his hand, “Wait, I’m getting there.”

Turning to the man, Edward squinted his eyes at him.

“So, I spent the past days reflecting a lot on our— what, relationship? And about you as well, and came to the conclusion that you’re not that type at all.”

The laugh that left Edward’s lips could convey many emotions: relief, disbelief, hysteria, the strong desire to smack Roy in the face.

“Are you telling me the reason why you made Hawkeye’s life hell was because you thought I was playing with your fucking feelings?”

“Also, I think I may be in love with you.”

Edward choked, “In love?! What the— How the fuck was I supposed to know that?! All I did was see some fucking drawings!”

“You saw my drawings?!” Roy gasped, “I can’t believe it, they are mine!”

“Then you shouldn’t just leave them all over your desk!”

“I’ll leave them however I want, you’re not supposed to look through my things! And what do my sketches have to do with you coming to work—” he pressed his temples, annoyance clear in the previously tired features, “Throwing your hair over your shoulder like a character from a novel or…”

Edward let out an outraged uh?, forgetting completely about the past hesitancy and kneeling on the cushions to get closer to the man. He was angry, he was seething… All the time he’d lost thinking about the bastard, all the nights awake, all the food he didn’t eat, because he was worried about Roy!

“You are drawing me!”

“And what’s wrong with that? I think you are beautiful so of course I’m going to try to draw you! You want me to stop, I’ll stop, but you should try asking me instead of—”

“Why are you like this?!" Ed grabbed Roy by the lapels and pulled him down.

He was so shocked by his own actions he barely moved. Shaking from head to toes, he could feel Roy’s warmth and he ached to snuggle on it, let it calm his pondering heart. However, he was afraid of Roy’s reaction — in love in love in love — and it was a shitty kiss.

But then Roy was kissing back and it wasn’t that shitty anymore.

In a blink, Ed was on the man’s lap. He had no idea how he’d gotten there, and at this point, he wasn't that interested in finding out — although it probably had something to do with the hands under his thighs. Roy was tugging him closer by the legs and Ed went compliantly like a rag doll, grip tightening on the shirt’s fabric. The shirt—, it was on the way, stealing Roy’s heat from Ed, who was without doubt its rightful owner.

He got tired of the stupid piece of cloth and moved to the closest patch of skin he could find: the neck. Trying to touch as much as possible, Edward stretched his fingers and thumbed the beginning of stubble right under the man’s chin, the rough touch sending shivers down his spine. Roy Mustang Roy Mustang I am kissing Roy Mustang.

Roy’s tongue slid against his once, twice, thrice, and when Ed finally found his way into his mouth, Roy nipped softly the muscle making the blond buck. Too fast, too much, and Ed couldn’t breathe. A pair of hands gripped his hips and pulled him down hard and Edward whimpered; the low hummed sound that answered him made all his muscles spasm deliciously.

Roy pulled back and why?

“Does that mean everything is alright between us?”

“What the fuck, Mustang?”

“I need to be sure.”

“What makes you— yes, you dumb asshole, now can we—”

“Is it okay if I continue drawing you?”

He stared at Roy, stared into his eyes. The dark, dark path inside of them that lit up in flames when Ed was around. There was just so much inside of them — and Edward might just be the one that could see a part of it.

“If it’s you, then I guess it is.”

#royed #safe RoyEd #FMA #fanfic #alternate universe

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