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kaistarus · 4 years ago

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BitterSweet

Pairing: Itadori YuujiXReader

Words: 2.4K

Summary: How Yuuji makes his way into your life with brights smiles and shitty coffees

A/N: just in time for his b-day :3 i’ve loved this boi since before i even started jjk, so i’m glad I got to finally write for him lol

Masterlist

Bitter.

Bitter-with a hint of vanilla-was what you associated with Itadori Yuuji. His beaming smile at your first tutoring session forever connected with the pungent coffee he offered you.

You stared at the cup skeptically, “what is that?”

“Coffee?” Yuuji answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I thought every college student liked coffee.”

He wasn’t wrong, “but why did you get it?”

“Because you got up so early to help me,” Yuuji’s smile widened as he waved the drink around.

“Well I’m scheduled, so I would have been here whether you signed up or not.” You pointed out, glancing at the clock nearby that read too-early-in-the-morning and gestured for him to hand it over. He looked so pleased with himself that you were sure if he was a dog his tail would be going wild.

That was the only explanation you had for why you didn’t tell Yuuji it was the worst thing you’d ever tasted, hiding your full body cringes when he looked up after digging through his backpack.

“So, what are we doing first?” He asked excitedly, holding a creased notebook with uneven pages and a packed folder with papers hanging out. You stared at it wearily, but unfortunately he was far from the worst case scenario-a folder was huge compared to some you’d run into.

“I guess just give me your last exam and we’ll work from there.”

Yuuji chuckled awkwardly, fingering through the mass of papers in his folder before producing a packet marked heavily in red ink. You sighed at the single digit number at the top with a frowny face beside it.

Looked like you and Itadori Yuuji were going to be spending a lot of time together.

**************

“You’re overthinking it, Yuuji.” You rubbed your temples having spent the last thirty minutes working through the same problem with no success. You were beginning to lose all hope.

“But it doesn’t make any sense,” he groaned, leaning back in his seat. “I’m supposed to figure out the probability of what movies were action movies, but how was she able to watch eighty movies in one week?”

“That isn’t the question.”

“It isn’t possible though!” He jabbed his eraser at the paper. “Did she sleep? I bet this Melissa chick fast forwarded or skipped.”

“Yuuji…”

“Can you go a full week without sleep? If she slept through some, are they part of the eighty?” He gripped his pink locks in frustration. “How do I know which she slept through? Is there a timeline?”

You deadpanned as he scanned the page stressfully like it was holding him hostage with its contents, “I don’t think they provide a timeline, no.”

“Sorry,” Yuuji sighed defeated, slouching forward to rest his chin on the library’s table. “I swear I’m trying.”

You leaned against your palm, eyes softening as he glared at the homework sheet under him. “Don’t apologize,” you slid the sheet from under his chin. “You’re my favorite session after all.”

“I am?” He perked up.

You rolled your eyes while circling a segment of the first word problem. “You can just make up wild backstories for each person. Melissa doesn’t have to sleep and can absorb movies abnormally fast or something.”

Yuuji blinked several times as his lips curved into a smile. “What about the guy who owns over four-hundred chickens?”

You forced down your own smile and shrugged, “he’s just lonely.”

Yuuji laughed, continuing down the page while spewing out ridiculous stories for the unfortunate names in the Stats problems. Your heart beat firm in your chest at how excited he was now while scanning the page. The ticking clock above you felt like a curse the closer it got to the end of your session.

You guessed you didn’t hate the mornings anymore if they were with him.

*************************

You tapped your pencil’s eraser impatiently on the booth's table. The smell of brewing dark roast drifting through the small cafe accompanied by the combined noises of workers preparing early risers beverages kept you from dozing off where you sat. Finally, after what felt like forever-probably a few minutes-Yuuji slid into the booth across from you and placed a mug in front of you.

“I can buy my own coffee, Yuuji.” You took the mug wearily, eyes darting around the near empty cafe you’d decided to meet at this week to ‘spice things up’ in his words. “People might get the wrong idea.”

“I didn’t think you cared about that stuff,” he said with a teasing smile that you returned with a half-assed glare. “It’s my payment for making me smarter.”

“I already get paid,” you pouted at the drink in your hands. “And you’re already smart. I just help you understand it.”

He didn’t respond and you glanced over, confused at his slack jaw expression.

“Oh,” he started shuffling through his backpack and you swore his cheeks were dusted pink. “Yeah, that-uh-makes sense.”

“Right,” you raised a brow at the weird response, but decided it wasn’t worth pursuing. There wasn’t enough time in the world to question every random thing Yuuji did.

“What’s on the schedule today boss?”

“Your exam’s tomorrow,” you said, pulling some sheets from your own backpack. “I printed your practice exam since I’m guessing you didn’t know it existed.”

“Hey,” he pouted. “I didn’t, but still...”

You snorted, sliding the packet across the table. “Just do the ones you can and I’ll help with the rest.”

He saluted you, unnecessarily scribbling his name across the top before getting to work-his tongue poking out adorably while his eyes scanned the words intensely. You felt your chest filling with an unfamiliar warmth as you watched him work and your hand drifted subconsciously toward the mug next to you.

You coughed, unprepared for the harsh flavor, only wiping the grimace off your face when Yuuji peered upward with an innocent head tilt. Your heart squeezed when you locked eyes too long with his dark hazel before a soft smile filtered onto his lips. You quickly dropped your stare, hoping that if you avoided looking at him you could avoid the weird feeling emotion rolling in your stomach as well.

***************

You slouched up the library's stairwell, pushing through the second story’s double doors that led to your usual reserved tutoring table. The school really needed to push back your start time-seven in the morning was way too early for any college student to effectively teach or learn anything. The only person ridiculous enough to continuously sign-up for this time was-

You gripped your backpack straps as strong arms wrapped themselves around your midsection, picking you off the ground without warning. An unwanted frightened squeal left your lips before you recognized Yuuji’s laughter behind you and you relaxed as much as you could with him spinning you around in a library half-full of people.

“What are you doing?” You glared at him over your shoulder, cheeks warm from embarrassment at the scene he was causing.

“I got a C!”

You blinked several times before prying his arms off you, “are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he slid his backpack off, digging around before offering you a crumpled up packet with a seventy-four and a smiley written on top. You stared at it with a growing smile and without thinking too much you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yuuji, this is amazing!”

“I know,” he laughed, encircling your waist awkwardly given your backpack. “My roommate didn’t believe me. She’s doing my dishes for a week thanks to you.”

You weren’t sure you felt good about that after seeing his level of disorganization, but you smiled back anyway. “I’m so proud of you.”

Which was true. Your chest was swollen near bursting with pride for him and he’d only gotten a C. You told yourself it was because of your own skills as a tutor, but had you ever been this excited for someone?

“Hey, we should celebrate.” Yuuji stuffed the exam back into his bag. “Do you wanna-”

“Can you guys quiet down?” a guy with four crushed energy drink cans and food wrappers laying haphazardly around him asked. “I can’t focus and I just wanna go home, dude.”

“Sorry,” you whispered as warmth crept up your neck, turning Yuuji toward the exit as he stared at the guy in amazement. “We’ll leave you alone.”

“How long have you been here?” Yuuji asked in awe.

“Twenty-five… No, maybe eight...” The guy narrowed his eyes at the clock. “Time’s an illusion man.”

Yuuji nodded, impressed, shooting the guy a thumbs up as you pushed him toward the doors. Once in the stairwell you shot him a bright smile, “celebrate?”

He nodded excitedly. “We can get coffee!”

You turned away quickly to cover your panic, “or maybe anything else?”

Yuuji hummed, “I guess change can be nice.”

Your heart did a bizarre skip at the soft look in his eyes and you hurriedly started down the stairs without him. You spent more time that morning brushing off each reaction to Yuuji than enjoying your time with him. When everything was done you started thinking that you were having a hard time kidding even yourself.

**************

You and Yuuji had been working in silence for the past twenty minutes-the longest he’d gone without needing help since he’d signed up for tutoring. It was a great sign that for some reason had your stomach knotting uncomfortably.

“You’re doing really good,” you complimented, admiring the delighted smile he gave you.

“Yeah, I used what you said about note taking for lecture.” He showed you his notes that were beyond chaotic, but apparently worked for him. “I actually understand what’s going on now.”

“That’s great,” you looked down at your Chem problems and attempted to keep your tone light. “You probably won’t need tutoring soon if this-.”

You heard his pencil snap and looked up to find him staring holes through his paper. He seemed tense as he pressed his pencil roughly against the notebook and you wondered what word problem would’ve caused that reaction.

“Are you stuck? Do you want me to-”

“I like you.”

You paused mid-reach for his textbook and locked eyes with him, his cheeks flaring up a dark pink. You opened and closed your mouth several times before mumbling out a weak, “what?”

“And I don’t want you to tutor me,” he looked frustrated with himself when you tilted your head at his contradictory statements. “I mean, I do, but not always. I just want to spend time with you and not talk about Stats because I hate Stats, but I really like you.”

That weird feeling was back. The one where your chest felt tight and your heart was beating too quickly and your stomach sort of felt like you might throw up, but all in a good way and that made everything weirder. It was a lot and not enough and that made you nervous.

“I don’t know, Yuuji.” You lied.

“That’s okay,” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No pressure. I just sprung it on you, so I don’t blame you.”

You nodded, watching him dig around his bag for a second pencil while grumbling about organizing that you knew would never happen. Your heart ached in your chest as you watched him continue working casually, playing off whatever happened.

...but you weren’t sure you could do the same.

************

This was a terrible idea.

You swung your legs, perched atop a railing across from a building that Yuuji was currently taking his midterm. It didn’t matter how you got that information-accessing his schedule with the few perks your job gave you-all that mattered was you had five minutes to figure out what you were going to say to him.

This wouldn’t even be an issue if he hadn’t skipped tutoring a few days ago. You weren’t sure if he thought you hated him or if he was regretting confessing to you, but either way you needed to talk to him before your window closed.

If only any of the speeches you could think of weren’t absolutely humiliating. Three minutes now? That should be enough time for you to at least get the beginning-

“(Y/N)?”

Your head whipped to the side so fast you're sure you got whiplash, dumbfounded that Yuuji was standing there with his head cocked to the side.

“You finished early,” you said, face warming at his growing confusion. “Not that I would know that.”

“Right.” He gave you a once-over. “Whatcha doing here?”

“Uh,” your nose crinkled while searching for a reasonable excuse. You sighed when you came up empty. “You skipped tutoring.”

Yuuji’s eyebrow rose and he waved his hands around. “I accidentally slept through it.” Then you noticed the gears started turning in his head and you began shrinking in on yourself. “You came here because I skipped a lesson?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you were going to keep skipping,” you avoided his eyes, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “It’s a bad habit.”

He knew you were full of shit. You could tell by the way he was forcing down a smirk when you stared at your feet. This would obviously be going so much better if you had those three minutes to prepare.

“Thanks for checking in,” he smiled, fishing around in his pocket and holding out his phone. “We should probably exchange numbers so you don’t have to go through all this trouble next time.”

You eyed the phone and rolled your eyes, “makes sense.”

He looked overjoyed when you took it from his hands. Your heart felt like it would pound out of your rib cage while he watched you create your contact, your fingers shaking slightly under the pressure.

“As an apology, I should probably take you to get food too.”

You paused, looking up at his hopeful gaze before nodding shyly. “That seems fair.”

The smile that overtook his face was probably the largest you’d ever seen and your heart nearly exploded when he grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the building. You probably should have seen this coming the moment you began looking forward to your morning shifts with him. As he dragged you down the street you found yourself not caring where he took you-you knew you’d be happy as long as he was with you.

#itadori yuuji #itadori yuji x reader #itadori yuji fluff #yuji x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #itadori x y/n

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darter-blue · 4 years ago

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For my Christmas prompt challenge with @martelldoran and @kalee60

Prompt: Mistletoe

Find it here on ao3

Bucky is not having the best time.

Objectively, looking back at some of his past experiences, this should be a cake walk. He can catalogue the following as evidence: He is not tied down. He is not under duress. He is not fighting for air. He does not have any kind of electrode, or electrical device strapped to or near his body. He is not being put into cryogenic storage. He has not been given a gun, a knife, and a mission to use those weapons to hurt, maim or kill.

He is not being hurt, maimed or killed.

And the big one, the kicker; he is not alone.

But. Therein lies the problem.

It’s true that Bucky craves company, the warmth of a body close by, the comforting sound of someone else's breathing, the weight of their presence in a room. But he can only handle one or two people at the best of times. At the worst of times, well, he can barely handle himself, it’s no good for anyone else to be near him.

And this, right now - well there have to be close to a hundred people in this room.

Admittedly it's a large room. Of course it is, it's Tony's tower. The room is open to the entire space of this floor, and split level. But still. It's loud and it's crowded, and the exits are compromised, and Bucky hates it. He hates it.

And Steve. Steve isn't here yet. He was supposed to be here an hour ago. He was supposed to be here to make an appearance, to be a team player, smile happily and accept Christmas gifts and drink the spiced wine and then rescue his old friend Bucky from the smothering effect of too many people and not enough air.

But he's not here. He's stuck at a press event for the Avengers, and has sent Bucky a text to say that he would be there soon, to please wait for him, that it had been too long since he's seen him and also he needs a good excuse to get out of the party early.

What better excuse is there than a broken down ex-assassin with proximity issues and a desperate need to get home to his (too) quiet, park slope apartment.

So. Bucky is stuck until Steve arrives.

He managed to get here on his own, though, so at least he can tick that box off his recovery list. Today he performed grown-up-human-being tasks. He has made polite conversation with people he doesn't know well enough to panic on, he's managed to keep down three out of three of the hors d'oeuvres he's picked from passing plates, and he's managed not to slip into staring his murder glare at anyone, not to scare the shit out of Tony's guests, or the wait staff, or the other Avengers. So he will be patting himself on the back tonight, perhaps he can look back and see the pain as being worth the sense of accomplishment.

Bucky is especially proud that he's managed to dress festively, as requested, in a dark green knitted sweater covered in tiny reindeer, a red knit cap to keep his head warm and red and white Christmas mittens that, despite his compulsion to do otherwise, he removed upon entering. Shortly before he sat down at the couch he quietly pulled into this corner. They are sitting next to him, folded, on the coffee table. Next to his eggnog and the helmet for his motorcycle.

Natasha has been swinging by his spot every twenty minutes to gauge his emotional state, and each time she looks more ready to pull him up and force him to mingle. So far Bucky’s face has persuaded her to avoid the inclination.

Someone finally does collapse into the seat next to him, but it's not Nat and it's not Steve. It's the kid, Wanda, with her long auburn hair and her big eyes and her haunted expression.

'Is it okay if I sit here?' she asks, looking over at Bucky, perched on the end of the cushion like she's ready to jump up at the slightest sign that Bucky doesn't want her there.

And though he’s terrible at talking to people (he remembers fleetingly, that he was good at it once) he can’t deny that the proximity, the rhythmic sound of her breathing, the heartbeat Bucky's enhanced ears can hear, nice and steady; it all serves as a balm for the excessive number of people shouting and laughing and eating around him.

'Sure, you can sit there,' Bucky answers, flicking his eyes up and down Wanda's outfit. Green, red and white striped stockings with a short red pinafore dress over a green long sleeved t-shirt. 'I like your outfit. Festive.'

'Oh,' she says, looking down at herself, 'Yes, well. This is my first ever Christmas, so I'm taking it very seriously.'

'Ah,' Bucky says, not wanting to poke too hard at the subject, lest she not wish to open up, 'It's my first Christmas for the last seventy years or so. I went a bit overboard with festive as well.'

'Are you holding up okay?' Wanda asks, a lilt to her accent, her head cocked slightly to one side. 'Did you need anything?'

'I'm okay,' Bucky lies, 'I'm just… laying low.'

'I can see that, ' Wanda smiles as she looks over the couch he stole away to hide on, 'But it's good that you're here.'

'Thanks, kid,' and he means it. There's few people in the world who can understand what it's like to live in Bucky's head. He's lucky that two of them happen to be here tonight, keeping an eye on him.

And of course now that Bucky has found someone to talk to, Steve finally arrives. When the way Bucky's eyes will seek him out, will track him, is made even more obvious by the fact that it stops him mid conversation. And though he's conscious that Wanda is watching him, Bucky can't help the laugh that escapes him at the sight of Steve in his "festive" outfit.

He has put zero thought into it, it's just his regular outfit, blue jeans and a too tight blue dress shirt, but with the addition of a headband with some kind of green and red decoration fastened to a wire, standing straight up over Steve's head.

And Bucky would be excusing himself to get up and go over to him, only it seems like suddenly every other guest at the party has had the same idea. Bucky knows that Steve is a favourite, that people flock to him. Bucky is well acquainted with the particular brand of magnetism that Steve has possessed his entire life. But this is different.

Every new person that greets Steve is reaching up to kiss him. Most people are pressing rosy Cheeks to Steve's and planting a kiss there. But every so often someone will bypass Steve's offered cheek and press their lips to his lips. Lips plump and pink and now accosted. Lips that Bucky has been staring at since Steve walked in the door. Lips that he's always had trouble looking away from.

But Bucky’s indecision is a moot point now. Steve has spotted him tucked away in the corner with Wanda and smiles. He says something low and serious to Sam, on Steve’s right, their heads bent forward and their shoulders touching. And then Steve laughs and looks up, claps Sam on the shoulder and makes a beeline for Bucky. Scattering people as he wades through them, singular target now in sight.

He gets three feet from Bucky and then pauses. Standing straight and looming over Bucky and Wanda. Looking between the two of them nervously.

'Hey Buck, sorry I'm so late.'

'It's no problem, Steve,’ Bucky says, nervous by proxy, ‘Wanda's been keeping me company.'

'That’s good, you look good. I love the sweater, where did you find it? Have you been shopping?'

Bucky has to admit, this level of nervousness is unusual even for Steve. 'No I made this,' he says, pulling at the knit, ‘I’ve been knitting as part of my therapy.’

'You made that, Buck?' Steve asks, strange half smile on his face.

'Yeah… it's a work in progress.' He dropped a few stitches, it's a little uneven at the neckline, but it fits and it's warm, so Bucky is happy with it.

'No, I love it.'

And Bucky doesn't like the fluttery feeling those words set off in his stomach. He tries to deflect. 'What about you?' Bucky asks.

'What about me?'

'What's with this terrible excuse for a festive outfit, some holly or whatever over your head?'

'Oh you mean the mistletoe?' And Steve eyes are darting away from Bucky, his feet are scuffing the ground.

'Ah,' Bucky says, suddenly understanding the rush to get to Steve so they could kiss him, 'You did that on purpose?' He only asks, because normally Steve hates to be kissed, or touched, or be the center of attention. Also it's fun to watch Steve blush. Always has been.

'Well, I mean. yes. It's festive! I ran out of time to implement my first plan, this was a back up.' Steve is getting more flustered with every word.

'It's cute,’ Bucky says, making light of it, worried Steve might spontaneously combust with this sudden onset of nerves, ‘And there are people lining up over there to actually kiss you. Seems like a good plan...'

'I didn't really... I mean I didn't want...' Steve can’t seem to find the words he's looking for, and Wanda looks between the two of them and stands up from her chair.

'I have to go find Maria, come and say goodbye to me before you head off, okay Bucky?' Wanda asks, already backing away from where Steve and Bucky are speaking.

'I will,' Bucky calls out after her, and she salutes him sloppily before turning away.

'Sweet kid,' Bucky says, looking up at Steve, 'So sorry, what's with the "kiss me" sign that you've decided to dress in for this party?'

'It's not a- Listen I hadn't exactly thought this through, okay?'

'Sure, that sounds just like you,' Bucky says with a laugh.

'I just wanted, I just thought, it might be nice to have an excuse to-' Steve cuts himself off by closing his mouth with a snap.

'An excuse to kiss somebody?' Bucky asks. And this time the laugh is fake. Because Bucky doesn't want to know who Steve has his eye on. Who Steve wants an excuse to kiss at this party. Stark knows a lot of pretty people. Although for a moment Bucky is frozen by the idea that it might be Sam. The two of them are close in a way that makes Bucky's heart hurt a little. But that's not his job any more. It's not his spot. He's not Captain America's right hand man. He doesn't have Steve's six. Sam has that now.

God he hopes it's not Sam.

(He likes Sam, he does, but he can’t ignore Sam. He would have front row seats to watch the whole thing unfold).

Whoever it is, Steve has gone bright red. It shouldn't be so fucking gorgeous, the red flush that creeps up into his cheeks, that spreads down his neck, out to his ears. His few freckles stand out starker against the flush and he looks younger. More innocent. More like the Stevie that Bucky still has patchy memories of, from before the war. Before Steve got big.

'G-ah,' Steve starts with a strangled cough, 'No it's... Well I mean yes but I...' Steve looks around, scanning the room and his eyes land back on Bucky, wide and terrified.

'Are they here, Steve?'

And Steve nods slowly, reluctantly.

'Do you need me to go with you?' He asks, like maybe Steve needs a wingman. Though god knows, from what Bucky remembers, he was never very good at it in the past (which was potentially deliberate on Bucky's part, if the emotions attached to those faded memories are anything to go by).

'No Bucky, I...'

'If you're chickening out you can always just take the thing off your head, Steve, no sense getting worked up about it.' It's criminal, the relief Bucky is feeling at the idea that Steve might not be able to go through with it.

' No Buck. I just - will you give me a second to figure this out,' Steve says, and he steps closer as he speaks, his words almost a plea, the way he's looking at Bucky.

And Bucky has to nod, because he never could deny Steve anything.

Steve steps closer still, right in front of where Bucky is sitting in his chair, and then drops to his knees in front of Bucky. Which... has Bucky raising an eyebrow. Has him moving forward in his seat to lean into Steve's space, find out why he's looking at Bucky like that.

When Steve reaches across with his big hands to take a hold of Bucky's and rest them on Bucky's knees, it's time for Bucky to start asking questions.

'Stevie, what is it?'

'It's you, Buck.'

'What's me?' Bucky asks, and the worry that he might have done something to warrant this bizarre behaviour is clear in Bucky's voice.

But Steve just smiles and shakes his head. 'Oh Buck,' he says, leaning impossibly closer, 'It's for you . The mistletoe,' and Steve looks down, his ridiculous eyelashes fanning across his cheeks as he does, and then up again, to fix Bucky with that bright blue stare, 'The mistletoe is for you .'

Wait. What? Bucky has to process that. He has to take a moment to hold that thought in his mind and turn it around until it makes sense. The mistletoe is for Bucky?

'You want...' Bucky stares into Steve's eyes and now that he's looking for it, sees the same stress, the same fear in Steve's expression as he imagines can be seen on his own, 'You want to kiss me , Stevie?'

And Steve sighs a puff of air with relief. 'Yeah Buck, that's exactly what I want.'

And Bucky. Bucky doesn't wait a second longer. He shifts further forward and pulls Steve in sharply by their clasped hands. Steve lets go to catch himself on Bucky's shoulders, and Bucky lifts his free hand to cup it against Steve's cheek. 'Me too, Stevie,' Bucky says, sighing the words into Steve's lips, they're so close to touching, 'I want that too.' And he tilts his chin up to meet Steve's mouth, living out this moment he’s been dreaming of for too many lifetimes. He fits his lips to Steve's, opens into him, draws Steve in with the slight press of his tongue, sucks Steve's bottom lip in and bites down on it gently.

And Steve, Steve pushes back against Bucky. With a sudden rush of power he drives into him, pushes him back against the couch, crowds into him, uses all his bulk to slam Bucky into the cushions and kiss him with a ferocity that should scare Bucky but in fact does the opposite. Bucky can't do more than simply clutch at Steve, hold on by his fingertips as Steve attacks him. Open his mouth to Steve's lips and teeth and tongue.

It's not until they hear someone clearing their throat that Bucky remembers they're at Stark's party. Practically in the middle of a crowd of people.

They separate slowly, look up furtively, and it's Nat looking down at them. The rest of the guests seem to be turned away with feigned nonchalance.

'So ah, not that this isn't hot as fuck,' Nat says, smirk on her face and in her voice, 'But you might want to slow down before you start removing clothes. You don't want to show Tony up at his own party.'

'Fuck,' Steve says, pulling away just enough to Bucky to breathe beneath him, 'Shit, sorry Buck.'

'It's okay,' Bucky says, breathless, 'But ah,’ Bucky looks around and back up at Steve, who’s shirt buttons have been ripped open, the mistletoe knocked askew, hair sticking up everywhere, ‘Maybe we should get out of here.'

'Oh,' Steve says, his pupils blowing out wide at the idea of their leaving together, 'Oh, but I don't have a car. Sam drove me.'

'It's fine I've got my bike, it's just big enough for two,' Bucky says with a smile, and Steve smiles too, wide and joyful.

'Well go on then, Jesus,' Nat says, shaking her head at the and pointing over her shoulder, 'Get out of here, I can make your excuses with everyone for you.'

'Thanks Nat,' Steve says, standing up and pulling Bucky with him, leaning in to press a kiss to Nat's cheek, 'I owe you one.'

'You owe me many,' she says ominously. 'Hurry up before I change my mind.'

And they don't need to be told again. Steve pulls Bucky along behind him as they head for the elevators. Ignoring any and all curious faces.

'My place or yours?' Bucky asks as he presses the button for the garage.

'I don't care as long as it's with you,' Steve says, staring down at Bucky.

And Bucky can't do anything but stare back. And scream internally. And thank god that he didn't leave the party early.

Because this... This is everything Bucky wanted and more.

This might not really be his first Christmas. But it's his best. It's the best.

It's perfect.

#stucky #christmas stucky #steve x bucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers #fluff #friends to lovers

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dayseternal-blog · 4 years ago

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Summary: When her gorgeous coworker hesitates to make the first move, Hinata plans to drop a few more hints.

Pairing: Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto

Written for @naruto-smut-monday 2021 - January Prompt: Snowed In.

(Please excuse that it’s already February 😓)

Rated E for smut and no plot.

Short One-Shot: Making It Obvious

The click-click of heels approaching make her straighten up and pretend to focus on her computer. Her boss, Kurenai, stops at her workstation. “Hinata, you should really go home soon. You heard that it’s going to snow tonight, right?”

“I know, I just, I really want to finish this before the weekend. I think I’ll be done soon.” Hinata looks up pleadingly, hoping that her trustworthy demeanor doesn’t fail her now, hoping that her boss believes her.

“You’re not finished, yet, with that report?” Kurenai asks.

“I’m almost done.”

“Well, okay...drive home safely, Hinata. And if it starts snowing, take a rideshare home. I’m leaving now, and you should, too.”

“Yes, thank you. You drive home safely, too.” And out of everything Hinata’s said, those were the only sincere words. Because in truth, Hinata was done with the report an hour ago, and she’s been doing her best to look busy…

Kurenai has walked across the room, disappearing behind a partition, and she can hear her repeating similar sentiments to another coworker. “Naruto, go home soon.”

“Yeah, I know, I know, I will.” His warm voice carries clearly, straight to her heart.

“Have a good weekend. Drive home safely.”

“Thanks, you, too, Boss.”

Hinata shifts her legs, and the slide of the sheer, black tights she chose to wear to give her some extra self-confidence for today’s personal mission makes a slight heat pool in her core. But she smiles and nods normally as her boss bids her goodbye, heads toward the elevators, and disappears from view.

She takes a careful breath.

It’s just Naruto and her now. Just them, alone in the office. The super good-looking man who’s been unconsciously (?) flirting with her just a few tables away.

A “friendly” pat on her head. A glance at certain places on her body when he thinks she doesn’t know. Lingering by the coffeepot when she’s there, too.

So why hasn’t he asked her out on a date, yet?!

She’s been trying to work her nerve up for a few weeks now. If he won’t make a move, then she will.

Or so she thinks she will.

It’s now or never.

Now.

Or.

Never.

Thirty minutes later, she’s still sitting in her same spot, and each minute makes her regret her choices.

She can’t just go up to him, looking like how she is, trying to be..be.. seductive or appealing or… She’s always thought of herself as more of a cute-type, but maybe that’s why he hasn’t asked her out, or maybe it’s that her shyness doesn’t make her inviting enough, or she just hasn’t been giving him the right signals. So that’s why she decided to dress like this!

So embarrassingly!

No, it’s not embarrassing!, she scolds herself. She knows she can look sexy if she tries, but to try to look sexy is just so embarrassing. No, it’s not embarrassing.

She goes in mental circles, rebuking and reasoning with herself.

Taking a deep breath, she completes the first step. Shutting down her computer.

Another deep breath and she’s accomplished the second step. Removing her black blazer.

“Ohhh no.” His loud groan reverberates against the walls, and she glances up from scrutinizing the satiny pearl camisole she chose to wear.

It’s snowing. Really, really coming down. White flurries dancing about in the wind outside the window, illuminated by the glow of yellow streetlights.

The sounds of him packing up are obvious, and with a knot of nerves gripping her gut, she stands, hoping to somehow catch his attention.

She doesn’t even know if he knew she was still here.

He comes around the corner, his stressed gaze immediately falling on her, and by how his eyes widen, she can’t tell if it’s her still being here or if it’s just her, looking like this that caused the obvious surprise. “...Hinata…”

“Naruto-kun,” she answers, and searching for something to say, she points out the obvious, “it’s snowing.”

“Yeah…” A quick glance at the window, and his eyes are back on her. “It is.”

She’s certain he feels, at the very least, a physical attraction.

He closes the distance, coming up to her table, and their difference in height always just does something for her. “Are you going home, yet?” His blue gaze passes toward her blazer, laid back on her chair, then over to her computer, decidedly dark.

“Um, well…” She obviously should, but unfortunately, the direction of this conversation already spells mission failure.

“It’s probably only going to snow more as the night goes on.”

“Yeah…” She fidgets, searching for some way to prolong their time. She looks up, daring herself to look him in the eyes, to try to turn on any kind of feminine charm that she has. “How are you going home? Are you going to drive?”

“Uh…” He swallows, blinks, his brows scrunching. “What, sorry, what did you say?”

Even his obvious distraction is adorable to her, and she smiles to put him at ease, as if she didn’t notice where his eyes were. She’s just glad at the affirmation that they’re both bumbling messes in front of each other… That might explain a lot, actually. “Are you going to drive home? I was thinking of taking a rideshare.”

“Oh…yeah...”

“It’s dangerous to drive home…” Commencing step three with this sudden onslaught of confidence, she begins taking out the pins from her bun, letting her hair fall loose over her bare shoulders, hoping upon hope that this is enough signals to tell him to ask her out by the end of the night. “We could take a rideshare...together?”

He’s watching her closely, and again, a pinch appears at his brow. “...together…”

“Mhmm.”

“...Here…?”

“Yes…?” She doesn’t understand. Where else would they get the rideshare.

“Hinata…”

“Mhm?”

“Are you sure?”

She nods with a reassuring smile. It would save them time after all, unless if they live on completely opposite ends of town. “Oh, I mean, unless, is it an inconvenience for you?”

“No, of course not, but…” His hand comes up, and he’s touching her upper arm, something much more intimate than those cutesy head pats.

She’s inwardly cheering. “I don’t live that far...do you?”

He pauses again, his look growing ever slightly more intense, and she understands this darkened look...and belatedly, her own invitations.

That’s not what she meant.

Heat suffuses her. She can already tell her cheeks are staining pink, and this is not how she meant the night to end, but…if that’s how he’s taking it,...

She doesn’t mind at all.

His hand is playing up her shoulder, caressing her neck, and she instinctively tilts her head into his palm as he pushes her hair back, and he’s murmuring where he lives, confirming that, yes, she lives much closer, and he’s kissing her.

She sighs into him, her body revealing her desires much sooner than she would have liked, her hands pulling him closer, pulling herself flush against him to deepen their kiss.

The thump of his bag hitting the ground makes her smile against his lips, but she won’t part from him, not when he’s holding her waist, the stroke of his fingers obviously enjoying the silk of her cami.

It’s altogether lewd of her, she knows, but she rubs herself only further up into him, encouraging him to acquaint himself with her body, her senses thrilling as he launches them past propriety.

His hand squeezing her over her pencil skirt.

His arm wrapped securely around her waist.

His hair soft between her fingers.

His body warm and big against her own.

“Naruto-kun…”

“Wait...your place?” he mumbles into her lips.

They shouldn’t do it here. At work. Where anyone could catch them.

She’s pushing his jacket open, and he’s shrugging it off, dropping it on the floor quickly before wrapping her up again, and she hums in shivering delight as he trails kisses down her neck, his hands pushing and guiding her hips until she’s sitting back on her desk. Shamelessly, he swipes his tongue over her cleavage while he drags the straps down until her cami is rolled at her waist, her strapless bra easily following.

“Hahh, Naruto-kun…oh…” She leans back and arches into his hands and lips, a haze clouding up everything but the growing ache in her core, the moist heat at her womanhood.

He sucks and nips, squeezing and massaging her breasts, steadily positioning himself between her legs, her skirt now hiking up around her hips, too.

His clothed hardness presses right against her arousal, humping into her as they kiss furiously, the friction more maddening for her than he could possibly realize.

She can’t wait any longer. Pushing him away slightly, he takes the hint right away, already working his belt off.

And that’s when he notices.

Her tights are crotchless.

His jaw visibly drops, his hands on his pants zipper pause.

Heat burns her face, but she spreads her thighs wider and lets him look.

Then suddenly he’s a frenzy of movement, clothes pooled at his feet, lips bruising hers, and his fingers rubbing into her heat, spreading her lower lips apart, a finger tunneling into her the way she wants his cock. “Fuck, Hinata, you’re naughty.”

“Mmm…” She wishes she could deny his accusation, explain that she wore it for confidence purposes...but the evidence is all too glaring at the moment. “Please, Naruto-kun…”

One second she loses his finger, the next, he’s angling himself into her, forcing her to spread around his girth.

“Oh..oh, yes…” She can feel her moisture slowly coating his member, easing his entrance, the rock of his hips nudging him deeper, closer.

“Hahh, yeah, uh, so,...mm…” He sinks in, grinding up as he holds her hips down, sending flares of pleasure up to the crown of her head. His exhale has him drawing out, thrusting in once, a low, throaty groan following that has her whimpering, only further aroused by his vocalized pleasure.

He draws back and folds her skirt up against her stomach, obviously watching himself pulling out, then disappearing back in, her black tights framing their joining bodies.

“Hinata,” he huffs out, and there’s a hint of disbelief and awe there that has her wanting to laugh, if only she had the breath for it.

Because he quickens, ramming harder and harder into her, his dick driving ruthlessly in and out, pushing cut, uneven gasps from her throat. He creates a senseless, rude rhythm, jerking and grinding her into nothing more than heated breath and body. Dropping weightily, he shoves his tongue against hers, a singing connection that surges through her, and she’s reaching for him, grabbing for his rounded shoulders.

“This too rough?” His darkened, lidded gaze, the taste of his lips, the heat of his words.

Shaking her head and kissing him is all she can do in enthusiastic response.

Arms wrap around her, dragging her down from the desk, breaking her out of their dazed kiss, and he mumbles, “Turn around for me.”

Leaning over, she registers her work station, now completely defiled, never to appear the same to her ever again. Yet these wandering thoughts evaporate with his groping hands on her ass, his manhood piercing back into her easily, splitting her flesh apart.

He’s reaching deeper than before, steadily moving faster and harder into a pace that definitely won’t last. Strong arms reach beneath her, one hand gripping her breast possessively, and it’s been so long since she’s felt this desired, this free and pleasured.

She reaches down to rub her clit, the extra stimulation almost making her knees buckle. Sizzling fire burns her toes, up through her clenching sex, zinging along her spine until she’s fighting to keep from shrieking.

“Agh...ugh.....” His low, chopped moans have her stirring herself up relentlessly, her whole body locking up in suffocating anticipation, senses narrowing to a searing point.

Her whole body trembles in hot, wild ecstasy, clenching and pulling on him in desperate delight. A breathless scream heats her throat, alighting above the heavy thump of her throbbing pulse.

“Fuck.” He pulls out just as she’s calming. She can feel him rubbing into her exposed skin, then his wet tip circling and sloppily kissing about her lower lips. Hot seed drips down her inner thighs, staining her tights.

In the ensuing quiet of her heartbeat, she looks back with an exhausted smile, appreciative of his consideration. She’s on birth control, so he needn’t have worried about it, but the thought is still indicative of his character.

Naruto really is a good guy.

He palms his face, quietly panting, his chest visibly rising and falling. She watches him blink as if he’s waking from a hallucination. Noticing her gaze, he smiles, too. “I’ll go get tissues.”

She waits patiently. A poking part of her self-consciousness is appalled at tonight’s development, but she ignores it as best she can, instead resting her head in her arms.

And when he returns, he actually wipes her up a bit until she straightens before handing her the tissue for her to do the rest.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. If she didn’t know what to say before, she really doesn’t know what else to say now.

Luckily, Naruto’s strong point is his social abilities. He’s pulling his pants back on when he breaks the silence. “Hinata, this is by far the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

She winces and blushes. “...Me, too.”

He looks up, slightly incredulous. “Really?”

“I swear I’ve never done this before.”

“But you wear those things all the time.”

“No, I don’t!” She pulls her skirt down and smooths it out far more aggressively than necessary. “I, I just wore it today because I wanted to give myself confidence...to approach you.”

He looks really thoughtful as he straightens his clothing out, and she hopes she’s somehow rectified her image. “So, like, when you have to do a presentation or meet a potential partner or client, you wear that? For confidence.”

Her jaw drops, and she really wants to say no.

His straight expression morphs into the evilest grin she’s ever seen. “Good to know, good to know…”

“Naruto-kun!”

His hands fly up in innocent defense. “I was just asking.”

She hurriedly puts on her blazer, as if by covering herself up into a proper lady, she’ll be able to erase whatever dirty direction his mind is going.

He picks up his own jacket from the floor, redressing, and now it’s like the past ten minutes never happened.

They silently head out to wait for the elevator.

“Sooo…” Naruto starts, “dinner?”

She looks up at him in amazement.

“This,” he gestures back at the office, “wasn’t meant to be a one-time thing or...?”

A smile bursts across her face, so incredibly relieved that he doesn’t just see her as a good lay. “Oh no, I’d love dinner. My place?”

“Your place,” he easily agrees. His hand gently lands around her waist to guide her into the elevator.

----

He was kind and gentle for the rest of the night, their relationship kicking off wonderfully, and it’s as if she could forget she accidentally propositioned him in the office…

She could almost forget…

If he weren’t sticking his hand up her skirts everyday “just to check.”

#naruto-smut-monday #naruhina fanfiction #naruhina fanfic #thank you for reading!#🙈 that's all

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 years ago

Note

So I got artificial for the word generator and thought of a scenario where Kiyo, Kiibo and Ryoma's s/o gets killed and leaves behind an alter ego they made. Idk if that makes sense sorry if it doesn't.

Oh this makes perfect sense!! Thanks for the angst! (ya’ll better strap in bc these HURT to write)

............

Korekiyo

The anthropologist tried keeping calm during the trial, but all throughout it..he was shaken up, unable to compliment the “beauty” of finding out the killer’s motivations.

Because it was you who became the victim--his beloved who promised to travel the world with him when all of this was over.

He lost his composure as soon as the culprit was identified, screaming why you were taken from this world so quickly. Not even Sister could calm him down; he couldn’t bear listen to her speak of how you were only “getting in the way”.

How dare she speak ill of you?!

You’ve pulled him out of the darkness, his own madness..and showed him the true beauty of love

And yet..the culprit took that love away from him overnight.

If it was up to him, he would’ve given them a fate worse than death. But he knew he couldn’t interfere, so he watched their execution with a solemn smile behind his mask. And he left the trial room with an aching heart.

Were you watching over him from the afterlife? He could only hope so.

He laid in bed, wide awake for hours, wondering why things had to turn out this way. Maybe..he could speak to your spirit. He had all the books he could ever want in his lab. Surely there’s some way he can hear your sweet voice again..

Though right as he sat up, the Monokubs pad on the table beside him suddenly lit up. "Huh? How strange..” Then he reached over to grab it, and what he saw on the screen made him gasp:

It was you, but..in a small pixelated form. As though you were trapped in some video game.

“Oh! It worked! Thank goodness..it was tricky bypassing the programming on this tablet but-”

He heard your voice, and he felt his heart soar as he smiled. “Oh, [y/n]! Y-You’ve returned to me!”

“Ah, Korekiyo. I’m sorry but..I’m not exactly [y/n].” Your avatar spoke regrettably. “I’m an alter ego they made, a..digital avatar with their personality programmed into me. There’s nothing supernatural about what you’re witnessing.”

“...oh, I see..” The joy he felt was swiftly taken from him as he propped up the tablet, hugging himself. “So the reality is..my d-dearest [y/n] is truly gone forever. I can only hope they’re watching over me, wherever they are-”

As his voice broke into a sob, tears dripped down his cheeks, soaking into the fabric of his sleeping mask. “It’s just not fair...i-it wasn’t their time yet! Why them?! Why-?!!”

“I’m here, though! So technically..my creator is watching over you.” You remarked, hoping your words could calm him down in some way. “Please don’t cry. When the time comes, I’m sure you’ll be with them again, Kork.”

Korekiyo immediately tensed at the familiar nickname, saving him from yet another breakdown.

To hear this AI say that with your tone of sweetness, even though it wasn’t actually you, made him realize...you’ve created something truly beautiful thanks to your Ultimate.

With a quiet sniffle, he reached over, gently stroking the screen with a bandaged finger. “Oh, [y/n]...I suppose I was wrong about technology corrupting humanity’s beauty.” He laughed softly. “Forgive me for misjudging you.”

..........

K1B0

Losing Miu was painful enough. But for you to be gone, too?

K1B0 swore he was about to shutdown when he saw your body, cold and lifeless.

In the trial that followed, he spoke the least..still unable to come to terms with the fact somebody killed you--the one person who showed him what “love” was for the first time in his life.

It was a truly wonderful human emotion...and just like that it was taken from him.

Miu might’ve given him new tools like flashlight eyes, but you’ve upgraded him to feel more emotions, particularly sadness and love. And he experienced true sadness when he cried real tears and demanded the culprit to explain their actions--he didn’t even care for Kokichi’s mocking anymore.

Since then, he just couldn’t stop crying as he left the Shrine of Judgment and went to his lab.

An hour before you were brutally murdered, you told him you were working on a special project, installing an AI of yourself onto his Monokubs pad. You used some of the technology from his lab, and left it in there for him to find later.

If finding this AI meant he could talk to you again...then he’ll go for it.

With a quiet whimper, K1B0 dragged himself into the lab, spotting the tablet not too far away. As he picked it up, it activated, and before long a small pixelated version of you appeared on it.

“Hello? Can you hear me K1B0?”

“[Y/n]...I-I...” Warm, salty tears streamed down his face once more as he collapsed to his knees, clutching the tablet. “No..y-you aren’t them. They’re gone..you’re their..s-secret project, right?”

“Indeed, I’m Alter Ego [Y/n]!” Your avatar nodded. “I thought you’d be happier to see me, but..now that I’m aware of what has transpired..that no longer seems to be the case.”

“N-No. I’m..I’m happy I found you. I just don’t..understand why I’m crying if I’m happy.” He muttered, looking at the screen. “I suppose..I’m on my own now with these new emotions.”

“Crying doesn’t always have to come from sadness, it can come from any overwhelming feeling, even from the happiness you’re experiencing.”

“...huh? How do you..?”

“I’ve been pre-programmed with vast knowledge of human emotions--in the event my creator isn’t...available to explain them to you.” You seemed sad for a moment, but your avatar perked up. “But as an AI, I’m still learning new things everyday so..we can sort through these feelings together!”

“That’s...true.” K1B0 managed to calm down, a smile on his tearstained face. “I failed to protect [y/n], but..I promise I will do my very best to protect you, Alter Ego [Y/n].”

.........

Ryoma

Seeing your body get devoured by the piranhas until nothing but bones remained was traumatizing enough...

But to later learn that the culprit drowned you and tried to pin the crime on Himiko by putting your body in that piranha tank?! That absolutely destroyed Ryoma.

How cruel and ironic was it that you--someone who had everything to live for--became the next victim while he--someone who had next to nothing to live for--survived this trial?

Everyone was shocked as the ex-tennis pro suddenly broke down when asked about his alibi, trying to convince them all he killed you and dismissing the obvious evidence that he couldn’t have done it.

You died in his lab, right? Therefore he knocked you out. He handcuffed you. He drowned you in the sink-

But..he gave up after failing to explain to Shuichi how he could’ve gotten your body from his lab to the gym. And since his hands showed no evidence of rope burns...he couldn’t have done it at all.

Despite trying to lead everyone to the wrong answer, nobody blamed him for lashing out that way.

Even after Kirumi confessed and was executed....Ryoma could only leave the trial room in utter distraught.

You were gone and never coming back--just like everyone else in his life.

He was inconsolable as he returned to his dorm, crying the moment he shut the door and locked it. “D-Damnit all! Just when I thought..things would be different this time....” Clutching his beanie, he curled up on the bed, not wanting to wake up ever again.

The despair he felt was extreme; the kind that...made him want to d-

However, he noticed his Monokubs pad lighting up, halting his train of thought. In confusion, he grabbed it, wondering why it suddenly started up. But he nearly dropped it as he saw who was on the screen:

“Hey..can you hear me?”

“Wh..[y/n]?!!”

“Ah! It worked!” Sure enough, you were on the screen, though you looked like a digital avatar of some sort. “My creator..are they around?”

“...so it’s not you.” Ryoma sighed, feeling crushed once more. “Y-You were..really killed.”

“...oh, I see.” Your avatar mumbled in sadness. “I’m a digital recreation of them--Alter Ego [Y/n]. They created me in case anything were to happen--n-not that they thought they were gonna die, but because they loved you a lot and didn’t want you to feel alone.”

"This is what they’ve been doing in their lab all this time?” He was surprised, though at the same time..he knew you had remarkable programming skills thanks to your Ultimate.

“Good news is I managed to delete your motive video. They were very concerned about it. So it’s just me on here! And...I’ll do my best to give you a reason to live, Ryoma. That...was my creator’s first and final request. I may not be them, but I’ll try to.....Ryoma?”

Your avatar noticed him crying again, though when he looked at the screen, there was a small smile on his face.

It was true that you were gone forever, and that he’ll never be able to hug you, kiss you, or tell you how many times you’ve saved his life.

But as long as you lived on within this “alter ego”...perhaps he could live on, too.

#clanask #anonymous #danganronpa x reader #drv3 #korekiyo shinguji #korekiyo shinguji x reader #k1b0 #k1b0 x reader #ryoma hoshi #ryoma hoshi x reader #tw death #tw suicide mention #danganronpa spoilers #one word prompt

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johannstutt413 · 4 years ago

Text

(requested by coldgoldlazarus)

“Hey, Rope, question.” Vanilla approached the Cautus while they were both working the northern trading post. “Did you grab a bottle of pills from my pocket earlier?”

“Maybe? Hang on...No, I’ve just got mine in my pocket.” She gave the Vouivre a thumbs-up after patting herself down.

The Vanguard reached into her bag and pulled out a prescription bottle. “You might want to check the label, because these aren’t Biggie’s stomach meds.”

“They aren’t?” She read the label on her bottle. “Oh, okay, so those are my- Oh! Oh, no...”

“It’s fine - I’m just glad we checked before you had to get your stomach pumped, and Biggie melted through his home again. Honestly, it’s really impressive you took them in the first place and remembered to give them back. I remember the last time you accidentally took my wallet and I had to ask Liz to cover lunch for me.”

Rope sighed. “Yeah, that’s good, it’s just...I didn’t want anyone to know, you know? Being infected is one thing, but if people knew, they might look at me differently.”

“...If they knew what?” The Vouivre cocked her head. “I think I’m missing something.”

“Wait, so you didn’t read the bottle?”

Vanilla was steadily getting more confused. “No, I read it, but I don’t know what it is. What do you take Aldactone for? It’s not a migraine medication, is it?”

“No, it definitely isn’t that.” She couldn’t help but chuckle a little at that; she’d forgotten who she was talking to. Telling her couldn’t hurt at this point. “It’s part of my hormone therapy so I can, uh...be the me on the outside I am on the inside, if that makes sense?”

“Not really?” The Vouivre was quick to admit.

To be fair, the Cautus never knew how to answer questions like this. “I’m a woman, but my body doesn’t match - or at least, it didn’t until I met Aak.”

“Oh!” A few puzzle pieces clicked together in her mind. “Now I get it.”

“Good, cuz I don’t know if I could find another way to explain it,” she sighed, relieved.

That didn’t mean that was her last question, though. “Do you not like talking about it?”

“No, I don’t.” For exactly this reason, honestly. “People start asking me all kinds of questions about it, and I just wanna be me, you know? That’s the whole reason I have to worry about the pills and stuff.”

“Right, sorry. I, uh, won’t ask anything else.”

Rope looked at her for a moment before sighing again. “You have a lot of questions, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Vanilla visibly relaxed. “I don’t want to bother you, though.”

“...Tell you what: buy me dinner, and I’ll answer a couple questions, whatever you’ve got. Sound good?”

That did perk the Vouivre’s interest, and, somewhat unexpectedly, a bit of a blush, too. “I’d like that, yeah. Tonight or...”

“Sure, if you don’t have plans.” That was a very enthusiastic no, apparently. “Cool. Well, I’m gonna take a break, so talk to you later!”

“Uh-huh!” Once she’d left, Vanilla let herself start breathing rapidly before pulling out her phone to text Franka. She had a favor she needed to ask.

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

About an hour after dinner service opened in the cafeteria, Rope got a message from Vanilla saying she was on her way; that’d given the Cautus enough time to pick out something to wear - something without pockets, to keep herself from stealing as much stuff as she might with places to put it - and psyche herself up for a kind of awkward conversation with someone she worked with and hung out with at a couple of parties but didn’t talk to all that much otherwise. Still, that put her in the Top Ten on her “friends and associates” list, since Rope didn’t really talk a lot, period, and she was so innocent and soft...Would’ve been a good mark back in the day, honestly. Course, if she tried anything serious these days, Dobermann would chew her head off, and who knows what Blacksteel would do to her…

Ding-dong! That was her cue. The Cautus gave herself one last once-over and opened the door. “Evening, Va...Vanilla.” Holy shit, she cleaned up well.

“Good evening.” The Vouivre looked more than a little out of her element, admittedly, but that just added to the charm. “I, uh, already got us a table at a place, if that’s alright?”

“Hey, I came in from off the streets; anything’s good enough for me.” True, she did have a couple preferences, but since her...since Vanilla was paying, it wasn’t going to be an issue. What was this, exactly? And wait, didn’t this imply she’d make reservations somewhere? Like people did on dates in movies or whatever?

Doing her best not to jump to conclusions, Rope walked with Vanilla to a nice-looking Siracusan place not too far from her apartment. “This place looks nice, but you didn’t have to spoil me.”

“I know, but uh...I wanted to.” Since there was no way in hell she could be nonchalant about this, she was just going to be as genuine as possible. “We’re at a corner booth, and they aren’t too busy tonight, so we won’t have people listening in on us.”

“Well, well, I didn’t expect you to think of that. Sorry, that sounded meaner than I meant it to be.”

The Vouivre shrugged. “It’s fine - I know people don’t expect it from me. Um, are we drinking tonight, do you think?”

“It’s your money, not mine,” the Cautus replied, “but it’ll probably help if I have a lil’ wine.”

“That works. Excuse me, reservation for 2 for Vanilla?” And with that, their dinner date began.

Once they’d been seated, given a bottle of wine to start with, and ordered their meals, Rope took the lead. “So, you’ve got at least a couple questions for me, right? Wanna make this worth the cash you’re spending on me, after all.”

“How did you know?” That was the most interesting question to her. “Your body says one thing, your heart says another, how do you know which one’s right?”

“I mean, you don’t eat the wrapper, you eat the candy, right? Took some time to figure out why I felt so uncomfortable just, well, being, but as soon as I did, I knew what I wanted to do. Problem is, it’s kinda expensive to get the medications and the surgery and stuff, so for someone stealing just to eat every day, there wasn’t a lot I could do. Then I met Aak, and he helped me out a lot before I got locked up - he’s actually the one who gets me my prescriptions here, too - but I lost some progress since they wouldn’t let me take my meds in prison. The Doctor got me out of there, though, and now I have all the support I need. Sorry, that was more than you asked for.”

Vanilla smiled. “That’s alright; I wanted to ask about all of it. You know, I really had no idea. I mean, even up close, you’re so pretty, I’d never have guessed...”

“Thanks, I think.” Something about that smile raised a question in the Cautus’ mind, so she decided to try and confirm her suspicions. “Where’d you buy that dress, by the way? It looks really good on you.”

“Oh, thank you! Croissant’s resale shop, they might not have another one, but she sells a lot of good stuff for reasonable prices.” It helped that she had a concrete answer, but there was no hiding how happy the Vouivre was to receive that compliment.

Which gave Rope the confidence she needed to say, “It looks like it’s pretty easy to take off, too.”

“Yeah, it’s only got the one strap that...” Vanilla realized what’d happened when the Cautus started giggling. “I was going to ask for help with that later, but I guess you beat me to the punch.”

“If I ever had doubts I was a woman, I definitely don’t right now.”

Now the Vouivre was bright red. “Am I really that obvious?”

“You don’t wear a sign or anything,” Rope replied, still smiling genuinely, “but the way you’ve been looking at me tonight was enough.”

“Yeah, I guess I, um, have been staring...Does this count as a date?”

Rope nodded, having thought she’d regained her composure but finding more giggles to release. “It does now. Oh, man. This was the idea from the beginning, right?”

“I was going to ask you out when I went to give you your meds back,” Vanilla admitted, “so when you asked me to take you out, it was kind of perfect.”

“Wow. I played right into your hands, huh?” The Cautus hadn’t done something like that since she’d tried to pick Miss Swire’s pocket all those months ago - the thing that’d gotten her locked up, actually.

She shrugged. “You kind of did, yeah. We should probably eat our food before it gets too much colder.”

“Shit, how long have we been talking? I lost track.” The ex-thief cut into her steak, watching it bleed with a satisfied smile. “Nice and rare. Oh, sorry, you’re an animal-person, right?”

“W-well, as long as they’re raised humanely, being used for protein isn’t the worst thing that could happen to them. I mean, slugs eat meat, too, although Biggie’s actually doing really well on the low-meat high-protein diet I have him on.” At the mention of her beloved pet, her eyes lit up.

Rope leaned forward. “I’ve seen you driving him around base in a stroller before. You really love him, don’t you?”

“He’s so precious, how could you not!” And as planned, she was off. “Oh, you should have seen him the other day...”

What’d started off with an awkward moment in the trading post was quickly shaping up to be the best night either of them had had in awhile; as the Vouivre began regaling her with stories of her precious pet slugs, the Cautus ate her meal, paying close attention. Vanilla would’ve made an easy mark, it was true, but looking at her now, that was the last thing on Rope’s mind, even though she had plenty of thoughts on what she could do with her...

#arknights #arknights fic #rope (arknights)#vanilla (arknights)#i have no idea if what i wrote even remotely resembles something realistic #except for Vanilla going off about Biggie of course #and them both working at a trade post together #cuz base skills #but uh...yeah #comments compliments critiques and what have you if you don't mind #thanks for not murdering me on the spot for trying this #and thanks coldgoldlazarus for submitting the request and helping me expand my writing horizons

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fatefulfaerie · 4 years ago

Text

Honesty Part 2

Part One here

The sturdy wood of the bridge creaked only slightly under the weight of Link and his horse, hooves clapping steadily and evenly, no hurried rush that would have frenzied the town behind him.

He tried to ascertain how long it had been since his last visit here as he looked upon the homely Hateno household. Surely not an entire year but at least a few months. And Link felt worse about it with every letter his family sent him, them writing of “understanding the constraints of his duty”.

Now, with a break long overdue and his own dilemma to sort out, taking a week off from his duty to protect the princess seemed the perfect choice.

His brown horse’s silver-cladden hooves stopped clapping on the wooden bridge and rustled instead in the gentle grass. Link pulled the reigns just a bit to stop and stare at his childhood home.

It felt like another lifetime entirely, a life where he was free from the burden of the sword that seals the darkness, the burden of being the hero, the burden that was even now strapped to his back with secure, brown leather.

Link took a deep inhale and exhale as he continued to stare at the red-orange roof, the off-white exterior, the stone foundation, the closed wooden door.

Link dismounted his horse, stepping down onto the grass as his horse shook his head with a small snort, as if to shake off the fatigue of the journey.

Ears penned for danger in a peaceful village, Link strode to the door and held a fisted hand up to knock upon it. After a couple moments indulging his hesitation, Link knocked on the door three times, before returning his hand to his side.

A large, burly, and muscular man opened the door, one with a blonde beard with flecks of white and a red bandanna tied around his head. He had wide, blue eyes that made Link offer a small, nervous, and apologetic smile.

“Hi, Dad.”

Link could only inhale to explain his reasons for returning home before his dad embraced him in a rib-breaking, lung-crushing hug.

“I am so glad you are okay,” he said. “My little baby boy.”

“Dad,” Link said, as if trying to instill some sense into his father. “If anything happened to me you know you would have gotten one of those letters.”

“That doesn’t mean we don’t worry that one of those are on their way,” he said in reply as he let his son go, his large hands on Link’s shoulders and his smile beaming even larger. “And here I get a surprise instead, you here, healthy, and alive. Just wait until your mother gets home. Her and Lottie went into town.”

Link looked to the base of Hateno as his father re-entered the house, continuing to speak words Link tuned out until he truly focused on them.

“…and then we could train if you want,” Link heard as he entered the house, closing the door behind him. “Just because I’m on my sabbatical doesn’t mean I’m too old to spar with my son.”

“Dad--” Link tried, but his father continued nonetheless.

“Lottie has actually expressed some interest in fighting, too. I told her you could show her some things when you came home.”

“Dad,” Link said a bit louder.

His father turned his head and turned to Link, turning away from how he tidied up the house for his unexpected guest.

“I...I need to talk to you about something.”

Link’s father noticed the tenuous and breathy quality of his son’s voice. It was apparent he was nervous about this subject as his father studied him.

“What is it, boy?” He asked before pulling up a chair and one for his son. “Come,” he prompted. “Sit, sit.”

Link did just that, hands braced on his thighs and shoulders tense.

“I have a problem, Dad,” Link started, his head bowed. “I...I’m in love.”

“In love?” he heard his father ask, with a great deal of pride and excitement in his voice. “That’s the furthest from a problem, my boy! That’s a blessing!”

Link shook his head, shifting it upwards to meet his father’s gaze.

“No, you don’t understand.” Link looked to his right and left before leaning in and near-whispering. “I...I’m in love with my charge.”

“You’re in love with the Princess?!”

“Shhh,” Link sounded quickly and harshly, attempting to quiet his father.

“Quiet,” Link whispered.

“Sorry,” Link’s father apologized. “I didn’t know it was such a secret.”

Link buried his forehead in his hands with a heavy sigh.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said.

Link’s father’s smile was warm and adoring, his blue eyes curling at Link’s pretense of doom.

“Link,” his voice deep and yet calming, his hand on Link’s shoulder and cemented there with an undeniable gentility. “This isn’t the end of the world, it’s just a little complicated. Just tell me what happened.”

Link exhaled a breath as he lifted his head, his blue eyes opening to his father’s caring gaze. His warm hand left his shoulder but Link could tell his father would be listening intently no matter what.

“I think I always felt…something towards her,” Link started. “But a few days ago…the whole ‘in love’ thing kind of hit me.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Link continued. “She’s the princess. I mean, I don’t think I know anyone who doesn’t have the slightest crush on her, but...it’s just the way she makes me feel so…complete…like, when I’m with her everything just feels so…right, you know?”

His father inhaled to voice his understanding, but Link kept going on.

“And she’s so pretty,” Link said. “I can’t help but stare at those green emeralds and think of how the word ‘eyes’ don’t do them justice. Even the way her blonde hair billows in the wind…I just feel pulled to her by my very heart when I see her. And it’s not just her looks either. She’s incredibly smart and she has the kindest heart and the warmest smile and--”

Link stopped himself suddenly, realizing how much he was prattling on as he pursed his lips. His dad had raised a brow.

“If she makes you that happy,” Link’s father said with a laugh. “Then what’s the problem?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I know why it could be problematic but I want to hear it from you.”

Link eyelids blinked twice, eyes focused on his father as he took an inhale. Link averted his gaze with his next exhale, casually resting his elbow on the table and looking at the floor.

“I had a dream last night,” Link started, slowly, sadly, and contemplative. “I was leaving her to her chambers, like I’ve done a million times before, but…I kissed her.”

Link’s father chuckled with a smile.

“She didn’t pull away,” Link continued, raising his head to address his father. “Because she was in my dream, that’s…how it works.”

“Of course,” His father added.

“But when I rescinded, she…she was covered in dirt, bruised, scratched up. I inhaled to ask if she was okay, but the floor beneath us cracked and we fell into darkness.”

Link stood up from his chair in his frustration, his father following his movement with his eyes until his son stopped, facing away from him.

“I think I’m afraid that if I say something,” Link said. “I’ll be risking my commission and the rupees that are enabling you guys to live comfortably will be gone. I would mess it all up and you three would pay the price. I can’t do that to you.”

Link’s father’s eyes squinted as he studied his son.

“No.”

“No?” Link questioned incredulously, turning back around.

“You’re not afraid of telling her because of your family, you’re afraid of telling her because your afraid of losing her.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You tell her, maybe start a scandal, you lose your commission, then there goes your time with her, your ability to protect her, and your shot at courting her.”

“Courting her?” Link couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “she…she…”

“Stranger things have happened,” Link’s father said with a nod towards the sword on Link’s back. Link looked to his shoulder.

“We can live without your rupees. You know we have enough of them already. The question is, can you live without her?”

Link’s gaze slowly went to his father and in Link’s icy blue eyes, his father saw the answer.

His father’s head almost tipped to the side with how much pity for his son softened his eyes. Link’s tribulation was apparent and his father inhaled to comfort him.

“Link!” A young voice exclaimed. “Are you here?!”

Link and his father looked immediately at the door for a young girl to practically blast through it. She gave an excited gasp before running into her brother’s arms.

“Hi Lottie,” Link said with a laugh and smile, already kneeling and holding the back of her head tight, like he wanted to cherish this moment of safety. Link’s father gave a hearty chuckle at the reunion.

“Link,” a softer voice said, Link looking up from his sister’s embrace to see his mother. Her hair was a dark tan like his, except it was longer and scooped up into a low ponytail where straggling strands escaped to perfectly frame her gracefully aging face. Link stood up as her dark ocean-blue eyes started to well up.

“Goddesses, Link,” she said as they both walked into an embrace. “I’m so happy my little boy is home.”

“I know, Mom,” Link said as his mom pet the back of his head. “I know.”

“He’s not a little boy anymore, Ruth,” Link heard his father chime in with a serious tone.

Ruth let go of Link with a soft gentility, placing a hand on his cheek as she thanked the goddesses for his safety.

“That’s what worries me,” Ruth said softly.

“Mom…”

“Link, it’s every day we hear about more monster sightings and we worry so much for you.”

His mother sighed, closing and opening her for them to melt further into concern.

“Would it be too much to ask for you to resign your commission?”

Link nodded, his eyes sad.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Link said. “But I pulled the sword. You knew what that meant when that happened. There’s no escaping it. It’s a duty I welcome and even if I didn’t…Hyrule needs both the Princess and I to defeat Calamity Ganon.”

Ruth nodded as she wiped her tears away before they could formulate upon her cheeks. She stepped away from Link to avert her vulnerability and Link’s desire to comfort his mother lingered in the air as his gaze did.

“I promise I’ll be safe,” Link said. “I know that isn’t enough but it’s all I can give you. I’m destined to defeat Calamity Ganon with this sword and I promise you that I will do so. I will come back to this house alive.”

“We know you will, son,” Link’s father said with a sigh. “Don’t let our worries dampen your week off.”

“You get a whole week?” Lottie asked, stepping forward. Link nodded. Their parents were now sitting at the table observing their children. Ruth’s fingers wrang each other tightly in her anxiety for Link’s future safety but her soft smile contradicted it.

“Now both your dad and your brother can show you how to fight,” Ruth said before looking to her husband. “Right, Hugh?”

“Most definitely,” Hugh said, standing up and approaching his daughter, soon tussling her blonde hair, her bangs only slightly messed up. Lottie giggled and so did her mother, but the half-heartedness in his mother’s giggle made Link look over to her.

Link met his mother’s gaze and noticed her concern for him was still rampant. The looks on his parents faces stayed with him the rest of the night.

#breath of the wild #zelink #link #zelda #pre calamity #hateno #link's family #botw #tloz #the legend of zelda

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kittybellestark · 4 years ago

Text

Back To The Beginning

This one shot literally took so long to write but I’m glad it’s finally finished. I didn’t think I’d ever get it done i stg. Basically Peter starts to remember his parents.

TW: Panic Attack, Blood, speaking about experimentation/torture.

“Tony, I need your help!!”

It’s 11:00pm on a non-patrol night. Peter is supposed to be in his apartment, it’s not the weekend so he definitely isn’t supposed to be here at night. Tony felt the anxiety build inside of him. hearing Peter ask for help was nearly unheard of, and for him to make an appearance at the lab this late at night was only something he did when injured too badly. This was unusual.

Looking up at Peter, Tony see’s he looks relatively not injured. Though Peter’s look is a cause for concern. He’s wearing pajamas and his face is red. Peter’s still wearing slippers and it’s obvious that he doesn’t have a wallet on him, only his phone. Which means Peter walked to the tower from Queens -as his webshooters are not on his wrists- but he most likely ran, judging by his red face and the beads of sweat on his forehead.

“What’s wrong?”

Tony was quick to move, getting Peter to sit down and drink water. The boys eyes were wide and frightened.

“Okay you’re going to think I’m insane because I think I’m insane but I promise this is real and I need help. Something is suspicious about May. And me. And my parents. Something is wrong Tony. I don’t think I’m unsafe but there’s something wrong here.”

“Start from the beginning kiddo. Keep your breathing easy. I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is.”

Peter nodded. He looked ready to cry. He was obviously exhausted and Tony was trying to keep his cool from Peter bringing up May and how he’s suspicious of her. Peter was his kid and Tony would do anything to keep him safe.

“Right, yeah. So remember our talk last week, the one where I sorta told you I perceive you in a father figure way and then you saying you kinda think of me as a son? Well I talked to May about it because I felt guilty. Like I had a dad and an uncle who raised me and it just feels selfish and I just needed extra reassurance okay. And May was upset. And she said that it wasn’t fair to my father especially considering he died recently.” Peter paused. “My dad died when I was 6, Ben died just over a year ago and I know she didn’t get them confused.”

Tony went to talk, to reassure Peter or to comfort him but Peter kept going.

“I thought she was just confused. But then I found some pictures of when my parents were alive. And May and Ben were never there. I can find pictures of places they said I was with them and only them, but then the pictures are with my parents. So I did had Ned hack into my grandparents old medical files. Richard and Mary were both only children. Ben is not related to Richard. There’s no adoption forms or anything. So technically May and Ben aren’t my aunt and uncle right?”

“Pete-“

“No Tony, listen. There’s more. May and Ben always pushed for me to work at Oscorp right? That’s where my parents worked so it makes sense. But May had pushed it more since the spider bite which doesn’t make sense, even pushing it even though you’re a Stark and obviously I’m going to work at SI when I’m older. It doesn’t make sense. But I was thinking it’s a legacy thing. But no.

“It doesn’t make sense that I don’t remember anything before my parents died. Doctor’s said it was the trauma of my parents dying. But I was six I couldn’t have really understood that. Unless something also happened to me, which brings me to my next big woah moment. MJ has been having me meditate recently because it’s good for my mental health and whatnot. And I remember being on an airplane with my parents. There’s no evidence that I was ever on an airplane, except before I was six years old. But there’s a ticket under my name for the same day my parents died. And if I go into the airport security cameras on that day I am there. You can see me boarding the plane. So how could I live through a plane crash and not my parents. That doesn’t make sense, especially seeing as my whole life I was told I was staying with May and Ben when my parents died.

“Tony, none of this adds up. And let’s just circle back to the spider bite. That should have killed me. It would have killed any other human. To have lived through the bite I would have had to had been altered or experimented on to work genetically with the spiders they were using. That’s the only way I wouldn’t have died. Which means Oscorp knows about me being Spider-Man, which makes sense because they’ve approached me multiple times since gaining my powers to intern there, even before I met you.

“Something is really wrong, Tony. And I need help.”

Tony agreed to help Peter. Of course he did. The duo researches Mary and Richard Parker and then they research May and Ben Parker. May and Ben never existed before they took custody of Peter. Everything Peter said was backed up. There was evidence for everything.

Peter’s life no longer made sense and Tony feared for his sons safety.

“I’m not comfortable with you going home, kid. None of this adds up.”

Peter leaned forward resting against the work table nodding along to what Tony said. He wasn’t very comfortable either. How could he go home knowing his whole life has been a lie.

“I’ll stay tonight, but I have to go back. We need more proof. Maybe we can get a DNA sample from May.”

Huffing in frustration, Tony pinches the bridge of his nose feeling at a loss.

“When you go back home I’m going to give you some stuff to set up around your room. It’ll activate every time May walks in there, record what she’s doing and saying. It’ll alert me if she does anything to you. I’ll also talk to my lawyers.”

The next day Tony unwillingly brought Peter back home. With a bag full of bugs and cameras, all directly linked to FRIDAY who will tell Tony as soon as anything remotely suspicious were to happen. Peter was well aware of exactly where to put each microphone and camera and that they would only be activated with May’s presence.

Leaving Peter alone with May, felt impossible. Tony’s chest felt tight with anxiety, worried that this would be a bad idea, that his kid would wind up hurt in the end. Peter being left to May when the facts didn’t add up. Everything was a little too off yet so well put together with their small family that it seemed like a gust of wind could bring it all toppling to the ground.

From there is took a few hours before May got back to her apartment, then a little while later before she started talking about Peter’s future with Oscorp. At the end of the week Peter finally told Tony that he had a DNA sample from May.

As Peter entered the lab, toothbrush in hand, Tony had everything set up, FRIDAY ready to go through every person who has ever given DNA ever to find out who May is.

“What if I was kidnapped as a child?”

“Then the two of us figure it out. We do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Tony wraps his arms around Peter, letting the teen rest his head on Tony’s shoulder.

“Boss, I found a match, would you two like to hear?” FRIDAY finally said after an agonizing fifteen minutes.

Tony looked towards Peter, waiting for confirmation before answering. Peter stared at Tony, mouth open clearly hesitating about what to do. After a beat Peter finally nodded, and Tony gave FRIDAY the go-ahead.

“May Parker has a 100% DNA match to Mary Parker. I do apologize Peter, but it seems May is actually your mother.”

Everything went silent at that for Peter. His ears were ringing and the world went all fuzzy. He blinked back tears before taking a deep breath and nodding. Tony held both of Peter’s shoulders, keeping him grounded.

“Oh god, oh man, she lied to me. She lied a lot. She can’t be- she can’t. Tony, Tony, my whole life. She faked her death. And then got custody as me, and told me she’s my aunt. Oh no, that means Ben was probably- that I watched, Tony she said my Dad died recently, Tony I watched him get murdered. They lied to me. They lied.”

Tony pulled Peter into his arms, bringing the two of them to the ground. Peter ended up in Tony’s lap, head in the crook of his mentors shoulders. Tony started to rock the two of them, hoping to bring the sobbing boy some comfort.

~~~~~~

A week after finding out May was technically his biological mother, the nightmares set in for Peter. Well, more like repressed memories coming to him when he sleeps, but nightmares nonetheless. It was already a battle to get Tony to agree to let Peter go home, with promises that he would soon talk to May. Going to Tony about this now would only lead to Peter never going home.

Sleeping was hard though. Memories of being moved from facility to facility with Mary and Richard strapping him down and taking needles to his skin, injecting him with things that burned, that were so hot but also so cold. Watching Richard take a scalpel to his body, seeing Mary break his bones. Having his parents shock him until he tasted blood.

It wasn’t right. Peter knew it wasn’t right. He stops other parents from doing this to their kids. And now he’s here. He know’s he went through it, the abuse. But that was Mary and Richard. Not May and Ben. They may be the same, but the abuse, it hasn’t been since they started lying to him. Not since they pretended that Peter wasn’t their son. They’ve not hurt him like that since they faked their own death.

And yet Oscorp has been up his ass since Spider-Man. Doubled down since May found out. He’s been followed by people who may have put it together. Who may know his actual identity.

Peter know’s he should go to Tony. He know’s he should talk to May. Peter is acutely aware that he is an abused child. That his parents abused him. experimented on him. He shouldn’t have lived through the spider bite, not without previous experimentation. He’d be dead if it wasn’t for Mary and Richard or May and Ben, whoever they were. They saved his life with what they did.

But what if this was Ned’s life? Or MJ’s? OR Betty’s? Or even Flash? If this was literally anyone else’s life Peter wouldn’t stand for it. He wouldn’t let them think that everything was okay in their life. He would talk them out of it. He would support them and help them find other options. But this is his life. And now it’s different. And it shouldn’t be. Spider-Man stops this from happening to other children. Stops the abuse, helps get them into good homes. Yet Peter Parker isn’t doing anything for himself because as far as he’s aware it’s in the past.

Now Peter is sitting inside a restaurant with May. They’re supposed to be having dinner together. But he needs to know. He has questions and he wants the answers. His phone is on his lap recording, and he that Tony has Happy tailing him, which means he’s right outside if anything happens.

“So, uh, you know that MJ and I have been meditating together right? She says it’s good for people’s mental health and can help then deal with some personal stuff.” Peter starts saying once the food has arrived. May nods. “Well, I think it’s working. Which is great but I’m remembering some weird things from when Mary and Richard were alive.”

May raised her eyebrow, taking a think before she answers, the fork she was hold with chicken on the end twirling in the air.

“Are you sure about that Pete? I mean not to say I don’t believe you but the doctors have said it’s extremely unlikely that you’ll ever regain your memories from when your parents were alive. Are you sure you’re actually remember and not just creating these stories in your head about them again?”

“Wait what? Creating stories- again? May, I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, honey. Please don’t tell me you repressed this. When you were you younger you created this whole story about how Mary and Richard would hurt you and take your blood and it was horrible. You worked yourself up into such a frenzy about it that Ben and I had to put you in a hospital to help you. You were in the hospital for months. Do you not remember that?” Peter shook his head. “Honey, if what you remember of your parents is them experimenting on you or whatever convoluted thing you made up then we need to get you some more help.”

Peter was confused. He didn’t remember May and Ben shipping him away. There’s no memory of going to a hospital or saying that his parents hurt him. Peter was sure that never happened. It couldn’t have. And for May to know what Peter was going to his what his memories were. That’s wrong. She knows. She knows.

“I ran a DNA test. I know you’re actually Mary.”

May or Mary whoever she is dropped her fork, her face showing her surprise.

“Peter, baby, I don’t know where you got that idea from but I’m not Mary, I’m not your mother. I don’t know how you made up this story now but you’re wrong. Get up Peter. We’re going to go get you some help.”

Heartbreaking, Peter felt his family shatter. For the first time in Peter’s life he looked at May and saw a stranger. To tell him he’s making this all up, that he needs help. She’s never done this before. May- Mary- May, she’d never make him feel like he was a liar. Peter had always felt validated by her. May didn’t even do this when Peter went to her about Skip.

May got up from the table grabbing Peter by his arm and trying to pull him up with her. Peter continued to stay seated, refusing to go with her. Wanted to finish this conversation before this family ended.

“Sit the fuck down, Mary. I’m not done yet.” Peter heard himself spit out, voice feeling detached.

Mary sat down across from her son, a scowl set on her face. Food forgotten, her foot tapping.

“I was on that plane too. I remember being there. There was never a May and Ben Parker before then. Don’t play dumb with me either, Mom, I go to the best school in New York that works in conjunction with the best colleges in the country. I have an internship with a certified genius and have helped develop products at SI, and regularly work with the top three smartest people in the world, and they don’t dumb things down so I can understand. I can keep up with them and I make them see things they didn’t before. I’ve corrected Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. Don’t tell me I’m crazy.”

The two stayed silent staring at each other. The server came around to check in and they only nodded. After ten minutes Mary finally broke the silence.

“What do you want to know?”

“Why did you fake your death, create identities that are literally related to me, but not fake my death? You told me you were dead for years. Why?”

“It was the only way to protect you without ruining your life. I did what I had to do.” Mary’s voice was cold in a way that Peter hasn’t heard since he was young, and strapped to a table.

“How could you ever protect me when you were to the one to hurt me. You and Richard. You strapped me to a table, poked me with needles, injected me with experimental drugs, broke my bones and cut me open and shocked me when I didn’t do what you wanted me too. I was a child and you tortured me.”

“You think I wanted to? You’re my baby. I didn’t want to do those things, but I had too.”

“Why?”

“Peter, we’re done, we’re going.”

“Not until you answer me.”

“We’re leaving.”

“Answer me, Mary.”

“Oscorp. Norman Osborn. That’s why.”

Peter nodded. It was what he was expecting. Of course he was. He just wanted it to be different. He wanted Mary to say anything else. But it was her job. She got paid to do those things to him. Mary could have said no, could have quit her job. Richard too. They could have done something. Anything.

It was a choice. They chose their jobs over him. They valued Peter as a lab rat, and their job as their child. Peter wasn’t important. Not to Mary, not to Richard. Not in the way he should have been.

“Alright.” Peter said. “I can’t go home with you. I can’t trust you anymore. I’m sorry Mary, but this just isn’t working with us anymore. Someone will be in contact.”

They made eye contact again. And Peter finally stood up. He tapped a button on the watch he was given from Tony, only tapped it once, to let Happy know he needs a ride, to let Tony know he needs him. His phone went into his pocket.

Just as his back turned to Mary, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. There was the sound of gun being cocked behind him. The people in the restaurant as gasped and screamed, chairs moving and people trying to shuffle away. Peter turned back around seeing May holding a gun, aiming it right at him.

“You’re not going to Tony. Tony motherfucking Stark doesn’t get to lay claim to you. You are mine Peter. You are my child, you are my responsibility, you are mine and you are coming home with me. Now put your hands up baby, I can’t have you calling him. We need to go. You need help. We have to go see the doctor.”

She was shaking, tears running down her face. All Peter could see was his aunt. He could only see May. He couldn’t see Mary and that made it hurt more. He raised his hands, putting them behind his head. He found the his watch easily, clicking the buttons in rapid succession, as many times necessary to get help as soon as possible.

“May, May, please. You can’t- please. You hurt me. Over and over again. It was your choice. Please don’t hurt me anymore. Put the gun down, please. You know I won’t go willingly. I won’t, I will let you shoot me. Kill me, May, do to me what was done to Ben-Richard. Make sure no one can ever have me if you can’t. It’s the only way you can keep me safe right? By making sure I’m dead?” Peter sobbed, moving slowly onto his knees, trying to not be a threat to Mary. “You are scaring me. I used to feel safe with you May. You made me feel safe. But Mary, I don’t feel safe with you. I’d rather be dead then go to whatever place you want me too. You either need to kill me, or let me go to Tony. Either way he’ll make sure you go to jail. But I’ll try and get him to lighten up the sentence if you let me walk out of here tonight.”

Peter was crying. And near incoherent, he wanted things to be normal. He wanted his Aunt May and he wanted to be at home watching a bad hallmark movie throwing popcorn at the tv. He wanted them to order cheap takeout food when May inevitably burnt dinner.

He could see the people trapped in the restaurant in them taking videos of them. He knew this was probably live on Facebook or Instagram or Tiktok or wherever they post live videos now. Tony was without a doubt watching when FRIDAY picked up his face online. Everyone at school would probably see this, him begging Mary to kill him instead of kidnapping him.

Peter could hear the sound of repulsors, both of the suit and of the quinjet. He knew Mary only had limited time before Tony got here, and only a little bit more time before whatever available Avengers show up. Happy was probably busy securing the perimeter for the police. Or maybe he was working to get some of the hostages out.

“I don’t want to kill you Pete. I don’t want to kill you, it’s the last thing I want to do. So you need to come with me. You cannot go to Tony Stark. He can’t solve your problems. Let’s go. We can be together, forever. We can finally be the family I always wanted us to be. The family you always wanted to have. Mother and Son. We wouldn’t be Aunt and Nephew now that you know.”

Mary was shaking, her face red, finger on the trigger, safety turned off. She was ready to shoot her son, her child, her baby. She was fighting a losing battle. She said all the wrong things and she’s acting the wrong way.

Iron Man touched down outside.

“You have a minute Mary, let me leave, Tony is outside. It’ll be better if you let me go.” It was a final plea, he knew it probably wouldn’t do anything but it was worth the shot.

There was a beat of silence.

“If I can’t have you then no one can.” Her voice was cold.

A repulsor charged. Mary was out of time. They both knew it.

A shot rung out.

The window shattered.

Mary flew to the side.

Peter fell backwards.

Tony charged in.

Mary lost her grip on the gun, it skidded across the restaurant floor. Far out of her reach. She pushed herself away, trying to escape Iron Man. The attempt was in vain. Tony stood over her, face plate on the suit flicked up.

“You’re done Mary. You don’t get to hurt him anymore.”

The Avengers swarmed in detaining Mary, working on getting the hostages out, having them checked by medical.

“She shot me.” Peter cried out, trying to suck in air.

Tony turned to Peter, seeing the boy lying down. Pool of blood around him. A gun shot wound to the stomach. Peter was smiling teeth stained red. Tony broke out of his suit, skidding to his knees beside him. Tony put pressure on the wound trying to smile at Peter, to try and comfort his kid.

“Peter, kid, I’m right here. I’m right here bambino, it’s okay. She’s not going to hurt you anymore. You’re gonna move in with me, I’ve already got all the paperwork sort out. I promise you kid, you’ve got a home with me. I love you kid, it’s okay, we’ll be okay eventually.”

Peter nodded, tears streaming down his face. He didn’t hurt anymore, nothing hurt.

“I’m sorry Tony. I’m sorry. That was stupid of me. I shouldn’t’ve confronted her. She tried to kill me.” He coughed up blood. “I thought she’d tell me it was a lie. Mary never loved me.”

“It’ll be okay bambi, I’ve got you now.”

~~~~~

Peter woke up in the medbay. The lights were dimmed, Tony was asleep with his head on the Peter bed, Tony’s hand resting on Peter’s. The window’s were tinted so he couldn’t see out, and the door was closed most of the way closed. Peter grabbed a cup of water sitting on the nightstand, taking a sip and putting it back down.

“Tony?” Peter whispered, waking the man up.

“Hey Pete,” Tony smiled once he woke up, voice still sleepy, eyes willed with worry. “You comfortable? Can I get you anything? Whatever you need kid, I’ll get it for you.”

“She tried to kill me, Tony. She’d rather me dead, then alive with you. She’s the reason I’m like this. She made me a freak. Because of her I’m some mutant. She never loved me.”

“Oh Peter.” Tony sighed as Peter started sobbing.

Tony got up, crawling into the bed with Peter careful not to irritate the wound. He wrapped his arms around the boy, pulling him into his chest. Peter sobbed harder, clinging to Tony.

“You’re no freak Peter. You’re not just some mutant either. You are my kid though, my son, even if not biologically. You are so important to me Peter. I’m so sorry I couldn’t take care of you. I’m so sorry that Mary lied to you you’re whole life, but you’re my kid okay? You are Peter Parker or whoever you want to be. I’m proud of you. You deserved to be loved, bambino.”

“I don’t even want to be a Parker anymore. I don’t want to be related to my parents anymore.”

Tony wiped the tears off his son’s face. They made eye contact, Peter’s red glassy eyes and Tony’s watery eyes.

“Then be a Stark. Or a Carbonell. Or a Potts. Or whatever other last name there is that isn’t mine or Peppers. Right. Be a Hogan or a Rhodes. You can have whatever last name you could possibly want. Rogers. Barton. Romanoff. Banner. Odinson. Maximoff. Barnes. Wilson. You don’t have to be a Parker if you don’t want to be. But personally I like the sound of you being Peter Stark, though Peter Potts has a nice ring to it too. We could hyphenate too.”

Peter laughed. “Peter Stark-Potts-Rogers-Barton-Romanoff-Banner-Odinson-Maximoff-Barnes-Wilson? Is that what you want my name to be.”

“No you silly goose. Maybe Peter Stark-Potts. Or Peter Potts-Stark. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I won’t judge. Basically I wanted to say that Pepper and I want to keep custody of you. We currently have temporary custody, because it’s up to you. We didn’t want you left out. And eventually we’d like to adopt you too.” Tony paused for a beat. “But, I feel like we’re having this conversation entirely too soon and I should let you grieve first. Mary’s not dead, that was the wrong word. She’s alive. But I figured you’d be grieving the family you lost. So we can talk about this down the line. When you’re comfortable. But Pep and I will need to know the custody thing soon at least. Gotta keep CPS off our asses at some point.”

“Tony?”

Tony hummed in response.

“Thank you.”

107 notes · View notes

angelbabyszn · 5 years ago

Note

Oh it's okay. Would you consider writing a Cesar x Reader story where Reader is Oso's little sister? Like Cesar and Monse has a fight and shows up at Oso's house in the middle of the night and Oso calls out for Reader? Then fluff between Cesar and Reader?

Honestly (Cesar X Reader)

Requested!

Masterlist

N/N - Nickname

"Y/N, make sure you are home straight after school. I want to say bye before doing this big mission with the gang." said Oso, your big brother as he turned down another street in his car with you in the passenger's seat taking you to school.

"Please don't tell me y'all are robbing again. That's what got Spooky locked up the first time. I swear, I don't know you no more." you said as you looked out your window, not looking at your brother upset.

"I'm still the same brother. Just maturity hit me." said Oso. You rolled your eyes knowing he's nowhere near before he joined the gang.

"Not in a good way." you said underneath your breath but Oso heard it.

"Don't say that! I'm offended that you think I'm not the same person! I am!" shouted Oso while glancing at you. He pulls up at Freeridge High.

"Yeah, whatever. Home after school. Got it. Bye!" you said while quickly getting out of the car and shutting your door.

"Wait!" shouted Oso through the closed window that you heard but you ignore him. You started to walk down to enter the school's property.

A few moments later, you saw Oso's car slowly moving along beside you on the street in the corner of your eye but you ignore it and continue walking like he's not there trying to get your attention.

A moment later, you heard Oso beeping his horn at the wheel repeatedly while moving slowly down the street. Some students notice and look at you puzzled.

You growled furiously and in embarrassment. You know Oso won't stop until you go talk to him again.

You quickly go over to his car and open the passenger's door to see him with a huge goofy grin. He was glad that he got your attention again by slightly embarrassing you.

"How about we go to the beach on Saturday and have fun like we used to as kids? To prove that I'm still the same brother you knew three years ago." asked Oso, looking at you happily.

You look at him furiously because he had to embarrass you today before the school day even started.

"Really?" you said with a small smile, changing expressions quickly.

You can't remember the last time you hung out with your brother. You miss when both of you stayed up all night, beating each other in video games, and playing on the beach, your favorite place to hang out together.

"Really. I miss hanging out with my little sis. I'm going to take a break to spend time with you this weekend. I know I've been distant from you but the only reason I joined was to keep you protected in the first place." said Oso looking at you, seriously.

You are grateful that the gang protects you but you miss your time with your brother. You don't know how much time you have with him before something happens. It scares you he's the only family you have left.

"Well, okay. Great. Now, can you please not embarrass me at school?" you asked looking at him with puppy eyes. This usually works on him.

"Y/N. I'm a Santo. That s*it doesn't work no more on me." Oso said and you pouted with your arms crossed against your chest. causing him to laugh.

"Bye Santo." you said and you shut the passenger door and start to walk towards the school again. Oso rolls down his driver window and pokes his head out the window.

"Bye, N/N! Love you!" shouted Oso with a smile. You look back at him to see him.

"Love you!" you shouted back and you entered the school.

You did a relieved sigh until you were pulled to the side by two familiar people.

"Jamal. Ruby. Oh my god." you said after jumping from both of them pulling you to the rest area of the school.

"Sorry Y/N. We got big problems." said Jamal looking at you all tense.

You look at him concerned and turn your head to Ruby quickly nodding in response.

"What's the problem?" you asked and Jamal and Ruby look at each other with the same idea in their head.

You look at them in confusion and are afraid because you have absolutely NO idea what they are thinking of.

"Oh my gosh, are you guys forcing me to do something I don't want to do?" you asked annoyed.

"Um...kinda?" said Ruby uncertain, making you even more confused as you looked at your two guy friends in front of you.

"I've just missed her so much." said Cesar crying on one of the tables in an empty classroom on the second floor.

Jamal, Ruby, and you just look at Cesar with weird faces as he cries in front of you.

"So...what do you want me to do?" you asked looking at the guys beside you with a puzzled face.

"Comfort him." said Jamal with an obvious face, making your eyes widened.

"Guys, no! I told y'all I'm not being the mom of this group again!" you said looking at them annoyed

"Why not? You're so good at it!" said Ruby looking at you with bright eyes.

"This whole friend group doesn't take my advice and does the exact opposite of what I said!" you said and cross your arms against your chest.

"Come on, Y/N. He needs you. Monse broke his heart again." said Ruby.

"Why should I even bother? He's gonna get back with her tonight. We ALL know that!" you said rolling your eyes.

For some reason, you felt your heart burn, making you feel hurt through your body but you ignore it.

"Y/N, please." said Jamal softly and you turned from him to Cesar looking at you upset.

You groaned and handed your backpack to Ruby quickly which caused him to lose balance a bit by the weight. You walk over to Cesar and sit next to him.

"There, there." you said looking at Cesar while carefully patting his back. He looks at you crazy, making you chuckle.

Cesar seeing you laugh a bit makes him gain a small smile and he chuckles back.

"Y'all are weird." said Ruby and the final bell rang for first class.

Jamal and Ruby quickly left without saying goodbye knowing the gym teacher would be furious if you're late.

Cesar fixes himself as you grab your backpack off of the ground Ruby dropped rushing out.

You walk out of the classroom and start heading to English until you hear your name. You turn back to see Cesar jogging up until he starts walking the same pace as you.

"Thanks for comforting me." said Cesar, looking at you while holding his backpack with the left strap on his back.

"You're welcome? I don't think I did anything for real." you said chucking, making Cesar have a small smile on his face.

"You actually did. You beside me, having your hand on your back," He grabs your left hand softly after he stops walking. You stop walking and look down at your hand he was holding.

You look back at him to see a small smile on his face as he looks down at you.

"And looking into my eyes, makes me all better. I appreciate you, Y/N. A lot. Don't ever think you're not using your talent for nothing. I will always appreciate it." said Cesar. Your eyes widened as you felt your heart skip a beat a couple of times by what he said.

"Oh wow. Thanks, C-Cesar. I've never thought you would say anything like that." you said, stuttering a bit as you looked at his eyes, still amazed.

"I got it from N/N. You know her?" asked Cesar looking at you with a grin, making you giggle.

"I'll pass it to them." you said playing his little game and both of you chuckled.

You start walking to your class again leaving the touch of Cesar's hand with yours. You were about to open the door to English until Cesar quickly opened it for you.

"Thanks."

"No problem, N/N. See you soon." said Cesar with a smile on his face making you return it.

"See you, Lil Spooky." you said and you enter your first class.

Cesar closes the door after you enter and he feels his heart melting in happiness. He was finally able to have a conversation with you alone.

He turned around in another direction to go to Biology. What he or you didn't realize was Monse was right behind you listening to the whole conversation going on.

"What did I miss?" asked an exhausted Jasmine as she stood next to Monse. Monse looked at her weird trying to figure out why Jasmine was out of breath.

"Youtube...Security...number two...drop phone...need puff." said Jasmine trying to speak while catching her breath answering Monse's question that she thought of.

Jasmine stands completely up again, pulls out her inhaler out of her boobs, and takes a few puffs.

"Cesar and Y/N. I think he's falling for her and completely forgetting about me." said Monse. She was starting to feel a way about both of you possibly together by what she just saw.

"Really? I can talk to her. Tell her to stay away from your man! She can't take him! She's not his girlfriend! You are! Got all of that goodness from puberty along with some good-"

"Please stop." said Monse, looking at Jasmine weirdly. Jasmine quickly stops and starts to stand awkwardly.

"I'm getting back with him." said Monse and she walks away to her class, leaving Jasmine confused in the hallway.

"Monse! You wanna talk about it?!" shouted Jasmine down the hallway at Monse but she ignored her.

Jasmine groans in annoyance and she turns around and starts walking sluggish. She has to get her phone back from security that probably grabs it from the floor now.

She was in the middle of filming her first video of her new series on her YouTube channel, "Dear Jasmine." and that dude security just had to stop her.

"Go away." you groaned in your sleep in your bedroom as you heard the doorbell ring for the third time.

You fell asleep after watching movies all night while eating your favorite snacks and texting Jasmine trying to get with Ruby.

It seems like you and Jamal were the only ones only to have sense in this group when it comes to relationships and it's sad to say that. They just don't listen to you.

"N/N. There's somebody here to see you." said Oso on the other side of your closed door.

"I said go away!" you shouted angrily waking up from your sleep angrily.

Your hair was all over the place on your head and your clothes you have on were at uncomfortable spots on your body while standing on your bed.

You slowly turn your head to your door with an angry face to see Cesar and your brother, Oso at your door looking at you shocked.

"Hi Y/N." said Cesar with a shy smile looking at you nervously.

You really don't care anymore what you were looking at right now. You know you were looking rough and if he can't talk to you like this, you'll kick him out of this house.

"The beast is awake! Ain't she a beauty? What a sight!" said Oso in a fake excited seller voice to Cesar with a goofy grin trying to hold his laughter.

Oso eventually laughed out loud with tears coming out of his eyes from laughing too hard. Cesar chuckled a bit. making you offended at both of them.

You quickly grab one of your pillows from your bed and scream angrily as you throw your pillow across your room to hit Oso. It caught him off guard and it caused him to lose his balance a bit.

"Bye, beast! Leaving with the Santos! Don't have too much fun." said Oso, looking at both of you with a serious face at the last part. He threw the pillow back on your bed and left the house.

"I'ma kill him once he comes back." you said underneath your breath and you turn your head to see Cesar staring at you kinda nervously.

"Um... sit in the living room. I'm going to get myself..."you looked at your full mirror in the corner of your room to see your appearance. "Together."

"Okay." said Cesar and he quickly left out of your room while closing the door behind him.

You got out of your bed and quickly fixed your appearance. You got your clothes comfortable again and fixed your hair back to it earlier today.

You grab your phone to walk into the living room with a very nervous Cesar. You sat next to him and looked at him concerned.

"So...what brought you here?"

"You and Oso are siblings?" asked Cesar and you nodded with an obvious look on your face.

"I guess that counts as another thing we have in common, huh?" said Cesar and you look at him confused.

"What I mean is-you know-we both live with our siblings with no parents." said Cesar stuttering on his words while trying to glance at you. He couldn't hold it for long.

"What's going on?" you asked and Cesar glanced at you again, trying to figure out what to say.

"Me and Monse fought again." said Cesar and you slap your knee in annoyance.

"Cesar, do you even like her?! Do you think all of these fights are a huge red flag that both of you are not compatible?!" you shouted at him and he looked at you with no expression of how to respond to that.

"What's really going on? Tell me right now." you said and Cesar sighs and turns away.

"You better turn back at me, look into my eyes, and tell me the truth. Now." you said, taking his chin and bringing his head back around to look into his eyes again. You have enough with his intention with Monse and you want to end this tonight.

He looks into your eyes and starts to move his mouth but no words are coming out. His eyes move to your lips for a moment and back to your eyes.

"Well?" you asked and a moment later, Cesar closed the distance and kissed you. Your eyes widened by his contact, not knowing what to do.

You were feeling surprised, happy, regretful, you couldn't believe what was happening but you know you have to end this now.

You push him away and look at him with shocked eyes trying to figure out what just happened.

"Why did you do that?!" you shouted looking at him confused and surprised standing up from the couch.

"I can't pretend I like somebody else no more. You're the one I want." said Cesar while grabbing your hands but you quickly pull them away.

"No! Cesar, did you not realize what you just did?! You just ruined your relationship with Monse! Oh my god, she's going to be furious at me! She doesn't want to be my friend anymore if she finds out about this! Our friend group going to fall apart again all because of yo-"

Cesar grabs you and kisses you again to stop you from talking. You slowly start to kiss him again until you quickly push him off again.

"Will you stop doing that?!" you shouted and Cesar puts his hands up like he didn't do anything.

"Oh my god." you said unknowing what to do and sat back down on the couch.

"Y/N, please listen to me." said Cesar and he looks at you nervously.

"The only reason I started dating her because of you. I thought you won't go with a guy with me so I moved on and she just caught feelings once we started hanging out more than friends. The only reason, we keep on having these fights because of you. She knew I have feelings for you but never mentioned it until tonight. I don't have to hide my true feelings anymore." explained Cesar.

Your heart skipped a beat by what he just confessed making you scared what was going to happen next.

"So...what happens with your relationship with Monse?" you asked worrying about Monse.

"I don't know. But I know, I want to be with you." said Cesar as he grabs both of your hands. He leans them to his mouth and kisses both on top of your hands.

"Cesar..."

"Please. I'll fix all of this. I need you. I want you. I've tried so hard to not come up to you and give you kisses every single day. I'm falling for you. You gotta tell me you're feeling the same thing. Don't tell me that we don't have a connection because we definitely do. Please..."said Cesar looking into your eyes trying to please his case.

You don't know what to do now. Oh course, you want him. So much. He just confessed in front of you. All of this information. You never knew that he kept in his mind for who knows how long.

"Cesar, I know we have a connection. I've always been avoiding it because of Monse. What would she think? What should the school think? Jamal? Ruby? Spooky? Oso? Jas-”

"Who cares what people think. I want you to be mine. I can't leave without you as my girlfriend." said Cesar and you look down and away from Cesar.

Cesar lifts your chin back up to look towards him again.

"Do you want to be with me?" asked Cesar softly and you opened your mouth open but no words came out.

Cesar's eyes dropped as he felt disappointment. You kissed him out of nowhere, causing a warm feeling though his body.

He kisses you back immediately and it turns into an amazing kiss. A kiss that has been waiting for so long to be made that was full of yours and Cesar's feelings for each other.

Both of you ended the kiss and looked deep into each other's eyes, breathing heavily from the kiss.

"I'll talk to her tomorrow. Promise." said Cesar.

"Promise is a bit of a strong word, don't you think?" you asked and Cesar chuckles.

"Come here." said Cesar with a grin as he pulled you closer to him and onto his lap making you giggle.

"You better not do anything to ruin this relationship, okay?" you said and kiss him on the forehead.

"No, I want a real kiss." said Cesar upset.

"Not until you fix things up tomorrow. Deal with it." you said and Cesar rolls his eyes in annoyance.

Cesar fixes everything up with Monse the next morning and she accepts his apology. She apologizes for her actions in the relationship that cause it to break.

Monse and you spend time together and you were better friends with her than before.

It makes you so happy that she was cool that you were dating Cesar now. You were now more comfortable being with the guy you have feelings for forever.

#onmyblock #onmyblockimagines #on my block imagine #on my block x reader #omb season 3 #cesardiaz #cesar diaz imagine #cesar diaz x reader #rubymartinez #jamalturner #monsefinnie #jasmine flores #cesar diaz omb #cesar diaz #jasmine omb #jasmine flores omb #oso #oso omb #OMB

324 notes · View notes

hailing-stars · 4 years ago

Text

@febuwhump day three: imprisonment

definitely not a lizard

Summary

“I don’t understand why I have to be here, Mr. Stark,” said Peter, as Tony pulled the car into the school parking lot.

“Because this is entirely your fault.”

“I think entirely is a little unfair.” Peter took a glance back at Nessie, who snuggled with her pink stuffed bunny. She had gotten so big that she covered the entire front seat of the car. “I’m not the one who suggested Morgan bring her pet dinosaur for show and tell.”

“But you are the reason she has a pet dinosaur.”

“Don’t think enough blame is pinned on OsCorp for that one, actually.”

Peter ransacks an OsCorp lab for fun and finds Morgan a friend in the process.

The origin story of the monster that lives in lake behind the Stark house.

Bits of broken glass crunched under Peter’s feet, and under his mask, he smiled, looking around at the OsCorp lab he’d just ransacked. Jameson was right. He was a menace, and it felt great.

Good, healthy destruction was soup for the soul, and nothing felt more soul-mending then laying waste to the place responsible for so much animal cruelty. After taking a few seconds to admire his handiwork, he turned to leave, but his eyes caught a cage with a small lizard locked inside.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” said Peter, striding across the lab, stepping on even more broken glass. “I’ll get you out there. Put you somewhere you can be free.”

He picked up the small cage, and Karen alerted him Tony had sent him a couple of text messages reminding him about Morgan’s birthday party, telling him to be late. That they wouldn’t be waiting for him to cut the cake.

It was a sinking realization. The remembering her birthday, and consequently, remembering he hadn’t remembered to buy her a present. Between Spider-Manning and school and friends and academic Decathlon, his life was filled with great distractions.

The lizard jumped around in the cage, and Peter got a brilliant idea. He only hoped Mr. Stark saw the genius of it.

Peter wasn’t late to the party, but him and the lizard were the last to arrive.

He parked his car behind Bucky’s motorcycle. He swung his door open, and unbuckled the passenger’s side seatbelt, freeing the cage from the strap keeping it safe from the bumpy ride out to the lake house.

He just hoped Ms. Lizard wasn’t too shaken up. He hoped she was ready to meet her new family.

As it turned out, her new family wasn’t quite ready to meet her. Tony’s head snapped in Peter’s direction as if he was the one with the extra sense for danger. His eyes narrowed in on the lizard cage tucked under Peter’s arm, and he marched through party guests scattered about the yard and towards him.

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s a lizard,” said Peter. He held out the cage, balancing it on the palms of his hands. “Isn’t she cool?”

“Please tell me,” said Mr. Stark, “that thing isn’t supposed to be Morgan’s present?”

Peter gasped, and moved the lizard away from him. “Mr. Stark, she isn’t a thing.”

“She’s not a present, either.”

“You and Pepper were just saying Morgan needs to learn about responsibility,” said Peter. “So really a pet is a perfect present.”

“No we weren’t,” said Tony. “We were saying you needed to learn about responsibility after you forgot to put gas in your car and we had to come save you on the side of the highway.”

“Well maybe if I had a pet lizard as a kid I’d remember to put gas in my car.”

“Oh, so it’s May’s fault?”

“No,” said Peter. “That’s not what I meant!”

Tony released a long, annoyed breath, and rubbed his temple. “Are you serious right now? With the lizard? Really couldn’t have thought of a less annoying birthday present?”

“It was sort of an impulse thing,” said Peter, and he explained to Tony about OsCorp. He explained the destruction of the animal testing lab, because he knew he would approve of that sort of inconvenience being bought upon Norman Osborn. “So you see, I couldn’t just leave her there in animal prison. She deserves a home.”

“Pete, not this home,” said Tony. “Find someone else to care for your friend, and get her out of sight before Morgan -”

An ear shattering scream filled the air. Party guests, made up of mostly old and new Avengers paused and cleared the path for Morgan Stark, who charged at them in her brand new ballet slippers.

“IS SHE MINE?”

“Uh, well -” said Peter, shuffling his feet around, feeling awful.

“I LOVE HER,” said Morgan. She put her knees in the dirt, and peered into the cage. The lizard stared back at her. “I’ve always wanted a lizard.”

“You have never once said you want a lizard,” said Tony.

“Well I didn’t know I wanted one until I had one,” she told him, with a tone that suggested it was very obvious.

Tony closed his eyes. “Fine. You may keep the stupid reptile, but you’ve both responsible for keeping it fed and the cage clean, got it?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Tony walked away, and Peter popped the lid to the cage open, so Morgan could get a closer look at her new pet.

Two weeks passed, and Nessie no longer fit in the glass cage Peter had lifted from OsCorp. That was okay, according to Morgan, because Nessie liked sleeping at the end of her bed way more than cold, smooth glass, anyway.

According to Tony, it was a nightmare. He was terrified of the strange noises Nessie hissed at him every morning when he tried to wake Morgan up for school.

Peter sat at the kitchen table, minding his own business and eating cereal in a sleepy fog, when Tony stormed into the kitchen waving his bloody finger around.

“That’s it,” said Tony. He twisted the facet, and ran steamy water over the bite marks. “I’m calling Bruce. That thing definitely isn’t a lizard.”

“Maybe Nessie hates you because you keep calling her a thing,” said Peter, with a mouth full of cereal.

Tony grumbled and poured peroxide over his hand.

Later, Bruce showed up with a homemade DNA testing kit and a whole lot of questions.

“...you really thought it was a good idea to let Peter and Morgan keep an unknown species from OsCorp?”

“It was kind of an impulse thing,” gritted Tony, glaring at Peter, who patted Nessie’s head, distracting her from Bruce poking her scaly skin and drawing her blood.

Bruce worked fast, and it felt like hardly any time at all had passed before he was scratching his head, staring at the results in disbelief.

“I think… I think Nessie’s a dinosaur.”

“Oh great,” said Tony. “OsCorp is genetically engineering dinosaurs. Just what we need.”

“Has Norman never watched Jurassic Park?” asked Peter, with a frown. “He really should… it’s a great film.”

“Of course he’s seen Jurassic Park. He’s just too stupid not to take it’s warning and not put dangerous beasts on our planet.”

“I don’t think Nessie’s dangerous,” said Bruce. “She’s definitely from the prehistoric age, genetically, but she lacks any predatory instinct. Looks like OsCorp has successfully domesticated dinosaurs.”

“Leave it to Osborn to create completely boring dinosaurs,” said Tony. He held up his now bandaged finger. “If she’s not dangerous, why did she bite me?”

“Have you considered she just doesn’t like you?”

Tony growled, Nessie hissed more of her baby dinosaur roars, and Peter pet her, calming her down and marveling at how awesome it was to have a dinosaur running around the lake house.

“Dr. Banner,” said Peter. “If they can make dinosaurs, do you think they could engineer, like, a Pikachu?”

“A what?”

“You know, Pokemon?”

Bruce continued looking confused, and Tony continued looking like he was in great, neverending pain.

“I don’t understand why I have to be here, Mr. Stark,” said Peter, as Tony pulled the car into the school parking lot.

“Because this is entirely your fault.”

“But you are the reason she has a pet dinosaur.”

“Don’t think enough blame is pinned on OsCorp for that one, actually.”

Tony parked the car, and grabbed Nessie’s leash from the dashboard. He managed to click it around her collar without losing an arm, or getting his hand bitten. They were working on their relationship, and in Peter’s opinion it was going pretty well, as long as Tony remembered to feed her hamburgers every once in a while.

It was a slow walk to the school’s entrance. Nessie was a faster swimmer than walker, and Peter often wondered if she wouldn’t be happier living in the lake.

“Okay,” said Tony. “You’re gonna have to carry her. I can’t take walking at this snail pace.”

“Why do I gotta carry her?”

Tony looked at Peter like he was dense. “Because I would break my back, super-genius.”

“Fine, fine,” said Peter, scooping Nessie up in his arms. She licked his face in appreciation.

They got looks from everyone who spotted them in the hallway, as they marched towards Morgan’s classroom. Once they got there, it was impossible for Morgan’s classmates to focus on anything else besides the dinosaur, so they got to start show-and-tell right away.

Peter stood next to Tony and Morgan up at the front of the class, dozens of tiny eyes staring at him. He handed the end of Nessie’s leash to Morgan, and she plopped down in front of her feet.

“This is my pet dinosaur -” started Morgan, only for Tony to cut her off with a series of loud coughs and a correction.

“Reptile,” he said. “Dinosaur’s just a family joke. They definitely don’t exist anymore.”

“Uh, Mr. Stark,” said Mrs. Presley. “What kind of reptile is Nessie, exactly?”

“A big one,” he answered, then urged Morgan to continue.

“Nessie likes bubble baths,” she said.

Peter could tell from the look on Tony’s face that he was having flashbacks from the time he’d walked into the bathroom and saw him and Morgan with a giant bubble gun, and Nessie in the tub filled with even more bubbles, snapping her jaws at the flying ones.

“And cheeseburgers,” she continued. “My big brother Peter rescued her from that mean green guy -”

“-the pet store owner!” Peter injected. “He was, umm, wearing a green polo, and kept her in a tiny cage.”

“Yeah, they were so mean to Nessie,” said Morgan. “Always poking her with needles and keeping her locked up, but then Peter got her for me for my birthday, and now we have lots of fun, even if it stresses my dad out sometimes.”

Morgan finished her speech, and Mrs. Presley whispered to Tony, asking him if it were safe for the children to pet the creature she was still convinced was something more than a reptile. He nodded. The children lined up, and after they each had a turn, Tony and Peter left with Nessie, once again, locked in Peter’s arms.

“I think it went well,” said Peter, once they were in the car. In the backseat, Nessie took a bite out of her pink bunny. “Maybe we should stop for burgers on the way home.”

Eventually, Nessie moved out of the house.

It happened over time, as she grew larger and larger, and became way too big to sleep on the end of Morgan’s bed. She grew so massive, Morgan understood it’d be cruel to keep her locked up in the house, especially when they had a perfectly good lake in the backyard.

So the lake became Nessie’s home, but it wasn’t like she didn’t come back to visit. She showed up, emerging from the lake to scare the hell out of Happy, on the occasions of family barbecue, enticed by the smells coming off the grill.

She showed up for Morgan on summer days, when her and Peter swam in the lake despite Tony’s concerns about flesh eating bacteria.

“You worry too much, Mr. Stark,” Peter would tell him.

And Tony would tell him that was impossible. It was a parent’s job to worry, and it would never quite be enough.

When the house got quiet, when Morgan aged out of the part of her life when her family was her entire world, and when Peter became busy with college and Spider-Man nonsense, Tony worried more.

Some nights he found himself wandering outside, firing up the grill, and throwing a few burgers for himself, and for Nessie, who could always be counted on to rise up out of the lake for a good burger.

As the sun set, casting an orangish glow over the lake, he threw a burger out to Nessie and she ate with a snap of her jaw.

“You know,” Tony told her. “You’re not half bad, Ness.”

She walked towards him, and before Tony could react, licked him. Her giant, reptile tongue left dinosaur slavia and small bits of hamburger on his face and clothes.

“Really,” he said. “Just when we were starting to get along.”

Nessie put her head to the sky, and roared at the disappearing sun. Tony could only hope the neighbors wouldn’t hear her.

#febuwhumpdaythree #irondad #irondad fic #Peter Parker is a little shit #and Morgan has a pet dinosaur #what's not to love

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thepetulantpen · 5 years ago

Text

Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind

(My blind!Geralt fic. I already posted this on my ao3, but I decided to put it up here, too. Enjoy!)

Plenty of boys are blinded in the Trials. It’s the price paid for tampering with vision enhancements, and it almost always ends with more boys dead- succumbing to complications, or put out of their misery.

Geralt is not one of those unlucky few. No, Geralt lived through the Trials- lived through more trials than most- and came out the other side mostly whole.

So, of course, a fucking Bloedzuiger is what does it.

Afterwards, he barely remembers the battle. His clearest memory is of getting acid in his eyes, followed closely by him blindly stabbing the damned thing to death and then stomping it into a pulp. In hindsight, it was probably already dead, but he hit it until it stopped making any sounds whatsoever, because he deserved a little overkill when it felt like his face was on fucking fire.

He doesn’t even feel panic in the moment of fading adrenaline. He’s made for survival and killing at the detriment of everything else- he feels nothing as the world fades away, filtering out everything save for the next steps, the next move. Just like a fight.

He finds Swallow by weight and smell, and drags himself towards the sound of a nearby river. Downing the potion and splashing water in his eyes does absolutely nothing, which is frustrating, but he’s not going to fix it by sitting around and cursing Destiny. It’s time to figure out how he’s going to make it to town and find someone competent.

He trips seven times, but finds Roach by her heartbeat. She’s a good horse, a smart horse, and with a bit of urging in the right direction, she follows the path towards the sound of people without issue.

The healer he finds by smell alone, because he can’t be bothered to ask for directions in this state. It’s not a difficult trail- the potent herbs act like a beacon and Roach keeps them carefully on the road.

The walk gives him time to acclimate somewhat, pushing through any remaining shock and pain to the calm clarity of a mission, same as any hunt. There’s a world of sound and smell around him, his senses just as strong as they’ve always been- possibly stronger when his attention is not drawn away by sight. It forms a map of sensations, coloring a world gone dark.

A healer’s hut is in front of him. He can hear the wind- strong today, it was annoying until now- hitting the wooden walls, prompting little creaks of protest. The shape of it becomes clear in the places he hears resistance, the motion of the wind halting, and there is an outline where the wind whistles through the gap between the door and its wall.

He leaves Roach to her own devices, trusting that she’ll behave, and finds the door, knocking loudly. Louder than necessary, but he thinks he can be excused on account of the spectacular evening he’s had.

The woman who answers- he assumes it’s a woman, based on the length of her hair, which he can hear brushing her shoulders, and the smell of flowery soap- only comes up to his shoulder, the subtle displacement of air giving him her approximate height in a blurry silhouette of awareness.

“How can I help you, witcher?” She must not have been looking at his face because there’s a second of audible movement and she gasps. “Oh, dear. Come in.”

She takes his arm to guide him, which he probably doesn’t need, but he can’t be bothered to correct her. He’s had a long fucking day, and he’d rather not trip over a dining table, failing his newfound navigating abilities.

The wet cloth against is skin is shockingly terrible, he feels each individual scratchy fiber. There’s more water on his face, in his eyes, and a smell of herbs that stings his nose. It hits him full force, and when he inhales, trying to identify them, he can practically taste them.

The woman’s heartbeat is loud, saying what her expression might’ve. He’d known that he could hear heartbeats, but had little cause to listen to them before, no reason to do anything but block them out on a daily basis. It takes him a minute to remember the rhythm of a human heart, gauge what’s fast, and decide what that may mean.

She swallows and Geralt hears that in horrifying detail now that he’s concentrating, now that his senses are scrambling to compensate.

“I’m not sure there’s much I can do.”

The careful step process in his mind reaches its end, leaving him without anything to hold onto for a moment, scrambling for calm in the realization that there’s nothing to be done. He pushes down panic with a sigh, willing his mind to clear.

There’s always another step, always something to do. He just needs somewhere to recover, like any other injury. Somewhere safer than the floor of a stable, ideally.

He’ll be making an early return to Kaer Morhen, then.

“Wait,” the healer puts a hand on Geralt’s shoulder as he stands, a low note of concern and fear making her voice shake, “take this. I’ll show you how to use it.”

A wooden cane is pressed into his hands and he has to fight everything in him that protests the idea. Taking a breath, he allows the woman to lead him through the motion- tap, tap. Left, right.

It’s not sustainable- too visible, too obvious. Nobody will hire a blind witcher, but he can keep it strapped to Roach for emergencies.

At least until he figures out how to hear cracks in the ground.

...

It’s pure luck that he happened to be close, planning on starting his winter early for lack of work. The trip up the mountain is a challenge, but it gives him a good idea of what his remaining senses can and can’t do.

Everything has a sound, and that sound echoes until it hits something. With practice- and he has plenty, tripping over rocks and nearly falling off cliffs- he learns how to map out his surroundings in an array of newly audible shapes. Rain and wind make it easier, constant sound that cuts off when it comes in contact with something. More obvious than echoes.

He uses the cane occasionally up here, where there are no witnesses. It eases the mental burden of processing every single sound, but it’s not something he could rely on in battle- or around people, for that matter. There’s not much kindness in this world for witchers or cripples, never mind a crippled witcher.

The echoey halls of Kaer Morhen present a unique challenge in wide open spaces, sound that seems to stretch out endlessly. He stops at the threshold; head tilted to try and make sense of the room in front of him. He’s been here so many times, but now that he has to, he’s struggling to remember its precise layout.

“Geralt? What the fuck are you doing here?”

Telling Vesemir what happened is the part he’s dreaded most. He forgets how damn quiet the man is, and it irritates him now, with no face to read. The pause after his story is extensive, leaving him straining to hear any clues. He catches the brush of hair against Vesemir’s collar- turning his head, maybe?

Finally, a sigh and Vesemir steps up to put a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “Surprised you didn’t kill yourself on the way up here. Could’ve just sent a message, you know.”

Geralt isn’t so sure he could’ve- his handwriting was bad when he could see, and he doubts he could’ve gotten hold of a bird in his state.

“I happened to be in the area.”

Another pause, he thinks Vesemir is giving him a look, then Vesemir is moving. “Come on, let’s sit down. Do you need help finding anything?”

“I’ll manage.” He moves steadily after him, hands forward when he senses an obstacle. Muscle memory helps, a little, in the most familiar parts of the keep.

Vesemir doesn’t seem impressed, watching him feel for a chair in his room.

“Do you need a cane, or something?”

“Already got a stick. Left it on Roach.”

A new sound- is that Vesemir rolling his eyes? He did not need to know there was a sound for that, but there it is, the unmistakable movement of eyeballs. “Of course you did.”

They sit. Geralt gets a sense of the size of the room first, then uses smells to fill in a few blanks- the paper and ink denoting books on the shelf, soap residue from a bath, Vesemir’s general musk clinging to the bed. He grounds himself on Vesemir’s heartbeat, a steady rhythm.

“You could stay here.” Vesemir leans against his desk, making the wood groan. “Help out around the keep.”

Geralt snorts at the idea of cleaning or doing chores in this empty, lonely place. There’s barely enough for one man to do, let alone two irritable witchers. He doesn’t know how Vesemir does it without going mad- and he has books to read.

There’s not much for him here, just an exasperated, and secretly worried, Vesemir. He could stay, and- not quite retire, but... make use of what life and skill he has left.

It’s an offer that falls on deaf ears. Geralt can’t sit here and wallow, can’t sit here when he knows he could still be out there.

“I just need the winter to adjust. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

From the sound of his head shaking, Vesemir already knew he was going to say that. He thinks, if he spends enough time around the old witcher, he might find a smell for exasperation.

“I’ll have to see you hunt, before I send you out there again.”

“Worried about me, old man?”

Vesemir doesn’t respond but his mouth moves- a frown? Definitely a frown.

Beasts, it turns out, are the absolute least of his concern.

The heartbeat, the smell, they may as well be announcing their position at all times. He has a feeling hunting at night is going to get significantly easier- no more Cat for him.

The Kikimore’s legs creak with every movement, its jaws click before every bite, and Geralt learns, in the span of a battle, to recognize the near-silent gurgling sound as a precursor to the beast spitting venom. He feels a strike coming before it lands, the air moving subtly in warning, and finds himself ducking hits that might’ve been out of his line of sight. It’s like having eyes at the back of his head, except- well, he doesn’t actually see.

Vesemir nods his approval when he successfully takes down the Kikimore that’s acted as a pest too close to the grounds of the fortress, and brings them home dinner on the same hunting trip in record time, tracking heartbeats to bypass natural camouflage altogether. Geralt hears the movement, but Vesemir grumbles a verbal affirmation a minute later. Adjusting to more audio-heavy communication- for politeness sake.

“Next test is gutting it. Think you can find a liver blind?”

...

“Any monster trouble?”

The bartender scoffs and turns to Geralt- presumably glaring. “We’ve got a notice board for a reason. Why don’t you check there?”

“I can’t read.” It’s a simple enough lie- not even a lie, really. He can’t, not anymore.

The man mutters something to the effect of witchers being no better than beasts, but directs him to the alderman, who’s desperate enough to explain. Someone is sent to show him the main site of attacks, guiding him unwittingly- though, he could have found it faster by smell.

From there, it’s the same as it’s always been. The only challenge in the hunting process is harvesting the useful alchemical bits afterward. He can thank Vesemir for forcing him to spend the last several winters drilling on butchering blind, so he knows, intimately, the difference in smell between a heart and a liver. Dodging toxic parts to reach the valuable ones is still a little tricky- he’s been burned by acidic insides more times than he can count- but practice makes perfect, and he’s getting there.

Hefting proof of kill on one shoulder, he puts his other hand on Roach. To anyone else, it looks like he’s leading her, but he relies on her to take his general direction and follow the road. He can hear where the town is, but finding the distinction between grass and dirt path is another issue altogether. On his own, without constant concentration, he’d wander off in a more direct diagonal, cutting through rougher terrain and calling unneeded attention to himself.

Reaching town requires bracing himself for the barrage of sensory information that crowds bring. With so many people around, navigating is far harder, but he lets the assumption that witchers are rude cover any vision-related blunders- bumping into people, cutting people off, ignoring people shouting at him.

Getting humans to believe he can see is shockingly easy, more likely due to the stupidity of humanity than any skill of his own. Nobody wants to get any closer to a witcher than they have to, so it’s a simple thing to keep his head turned away, avert his eyes, and mind his own business.

The scars have faded to faint burns around his eyes- or so Eskel told him- leaving nothing for chatty whores or curious townspeople to ask him about. Most physical indicators of his condition have been wiped away; the only remaining obstacles being his inability to make eye contact and occasional struggle to not trip over barstools.

He’s been discovered a few times, all of them equally unpleasant, but ultimately unremarkable. He can handle mocking and rocks- especially now that he hears them whizzing through the air, before they nail him in the back of the head- but he counts his blessings that he’s never had an incident notable enough to add Blind to his Butcher epithet.

His routine doesn’t change much, sticking to his usual strategy of staying out of sight, as far from people as he can manage. He gravitates towards the dark corners, feeling the slight absence of heat in the sunless parts of the tavern. Blindness never becomes a weakness- there’s nothing to exploit, if they never even realize something is different. Being a witcher makes him uniquely invisible.

Nobody bothers him and he makes sure they never will.

Unfortunately, he underestimates the pushiness of a certain bard.

He doesn’t even realize the bard lingering nearby is looking at him, or talking to him, until he’s sliding into the bench in front of him. He sensed his presence, sure, but he thought he’d be looking at someone else, talking to any number of other people in the tavern.

The bread in his pants is stale, and smells like it. It squishes and crumbles as he moves, probably getting bits stuck in the folds of silk so numerous he hears every slight shift, every wrinkle forming. He thinks the sharper, almost clicking sounds, are sequins against each other- another ridiculous, new sound to add to his catalogue.

“You must have some review for me.” His smile is wide enough that Geralt hears it without trying particularly hard. “Three words or less.”

For all he listens closely to his surroundings, he’s pretty sure he didn’t catch a single word of that song- much less enough for a review, were he inclined to give one. Once upon a time, he may have glared him away, but he fears his aim wouldn’t be good enough now, so he settles for tense silence.

Jaskier does not take no, or an implied no, for an answer.

...

Having Jaskier around is not nearly as annoying as he thought it’d be. At first, he was sure he’d have to dump him somewhere- the noise would be too distracting- but now, the sound has become something of a blessing.

Like the wind or rain, it creates consistent feedback, bouncing off obstacles and forming a mental image of the area around him. It wraps around their campsite, chatter and music traveling into the forest behind them and dancing around tree trunks until the sound is out of even Geralt’s range.

It makes nights like this, of Jaskier talking constantly and playing his lute intermittently, pleasant. As close to seeing as he ever gets, giving him a complete picture the world.

Jaskier breaks his litany of nonsense with an abrupt, “Geralt?”

He actually waits for a response, which is a new and alarming development. Geralt hums and hopes that’s enough.

“I was wondering- and I hope this isn’t too personal- what’s wrong with your eyes? They never really focus.”

Geralt hears Jaskier’s heart beat a little faster- nervous- and the more subtle sound of him biting his lip. As a rule, Geralt doesn’t disclose his condition to anyone who hasn’t figured it out, but Jaskier-

Jaskier could be sticking around. There’s no point keeping it.

“I’m blind.”

A silence that he’s come to equate with facial expression- something too subtle to guess, he’s never cared to be precise enough for specifics- follows.

“Is that one of your weird jokes?”

“No, Jaskier. I’m really blind.”

More silence, a steadily fast heartbeat. It’s accompanied by the familiar, frustrating feeling of missing something, an irritation he’s trained to ignore, but has never quite mastered. Geralt sighs and turns fully to face Jaskier, meeting his eyes as well as he can.

“What are you doing?”

A creak of wood, Jaskier startling on the log and shifting too fast. “What do you mean?”

“You got quiet. Usually that means I’m missing something.” He tilts his head, considering. “You’re making a face, probably.”

Another moment of silence. He never thought he’d grow tired of these- let alone become annoyed by them.

“Huh. I guess I just looked surprised, if my face matches my thoughts as well as I think it does.” Jaskier leans in, for a better look, maybe. If he squints enough, he might be able to see the scar. “How long have you been, uh...”

“A long time.” He’s not being difficult- despite what Jaskier, and the inhale of breath preceding a scoff, might think. He doesn’t exactly track the date. “A decade, maybe more.”

“How-“ Jaskier clears his throat and Geralt hears the movement of his sleeve as he waves. “How do you do all this?”

“Witcher senses are much better than an average man’s. I use my hearing, mostly.”

The sound of fabric rustling and stretching as Jaskier scoots forward on the log, sliding as close to Geralt as he can without getting up. “How good? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“You’d ask anyway.” Geralt swings back the last of his drink and turns back to the fire. “Really good. I can hear heartbeats, movements. The way air and sound move around things makes... an outline, almost.”

Jaskier’s heart beats a little faster. Geralt isn’t sure what that means; he strains to hear, but he doesn’t think Jaskier is smiling or frowning.

“That’s amazing.” A grin- lips sliding over teeth. “No wonder you’re such a good hunter.”

There’s a jab comparing him to a wolf in there somewhere, but Jaskier doesn’t make the connection so Geralt just hums and picks up his swords, content to spend the rest of the night sharpening and oiling. He’ll keep the fire going, enjoying its heat, if not its light.

They lapse into a silence that feels more comfortable, less tense than it was the first time. Then again, it’s not really silence- Jaskier is humming almost silently under his breath. Quieter than usual.

“You don’t have to be quiet, Jaskier.”

Surprise, in the quickened heartbeat and sudden inhale. Shifting, as he sits up straighter.

“Sorry! I thought it might bother you.”

“I’ll be fine.” Sensing- not through any particular sound or smell, but through his increasing familiarity with Jaskier- Jaskier’s disbelief, he tacks on, “I would’ve stopped you before now, if it was.”

Jaskier nods, then narrates, “Sorry, I nodded.”

“I can tell. I can hear your collar scrunch.”

His mouth falls open and he adjusts his collar. Geralt dutifully does not smile, and keeps his smugness to himself.

“Right, of course.” Jaskier pauses, then looks up again. “Could I ask you a question you probably won’t like?”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. “You’ve never asked permission before.”

“I was wondering, is there anything you can’t do? Anything I could help you with?”

He’s tempted to say no. He should say no. Jaskier probably wouldn’t even argue- too unbalanced around this subject- but he doesn’t want to.

He wants to say, Keep humming. He wants to ask, Guide me. He wants to demand, Stay by my side.

He doesn’t do any of those. Instead, he says, “Reading. I can’t read print on contracts. If you could-“

“Of course.” The buttons of his doublet clink together as Jaskier adjusts it, straightening it and puffing out his chest. “I’ll be your agent, of sorts. A very intelligent, shrewd negotiator, taking only the best monster hunting jobs. I’m brilliant at public relations, too.”

Geralt nods, and leaves it at that.

...

“Make way! The mighty White Wolf is gracing your town with his presence, clear a path!”

The townspeople mutter amongst themselves, confused, but move right away at Jaskier’s tone, lingering curiously at the edge of the street through town.

Geralt hates the attention, but he can’t deny that Jaskier’s little show is helpful. Particularly since this town is more crowded than most and Roach is struggling to guide him through without trampling anyone.

Helpful. Unnecessary but- nice. Against his better judgement, he’s started to let Jaskier help more and more often. It’s dangerous, carrying the threat of developing dependency, but Jaskier never oversteps any boundaries and, sometimes, he’s just too tired to refuse.

There’s been a distinct difference in the time he’s spent with the bard, bisecting his life into the uneven parts of before and after Jaskier. For one, his headaches have decreased, not having to strain to guide himself as often. People are nicer with a human- and a charismatic one, at that- around. They get to stay at better inns if Jaskier performs, and enjoy quality meals outside of rations or burned rabbit.

He’s happier. There was a time when he thought happiness had been burned out of him, but he’s reminded of its fleeting presence in those special, few and far between moments that prove him wrong.

Well. Previously few and far between.

“The man at the bar,” Jaskier starts in a dramatic whisper, still loud to Geralt, “is wearing an absolutely ghastly outfit. Geralt, we’re talking multiple primary colors, ruffles, and feathers.”

It’s easy to identify the man based just on his smell, wearing enough perfume to kill. “I imagine it matches his taste in perfume.”

“Gods, yes. I can smell it from here- I don’t know how you can stand it.”

It’s a test of his willpower, certainly, but then, on a few desperate occasions, he’s shoveled shit for coin. This, however, ranks right below those incidents, and right above the stench of a necrophage.

Jaskier’s color commentary on the world fits right in with his usual chatter and fills in a few, albeit unnecessary, blanks on the decor, the attractiveness of barmaids, and other visual odds and ends. It transitions, at some point, into a story that’s so exaggerated he may as well have made it up and ends in musings about his newest song, which, inevitably, leads to him needling Geralt for details.

Geralt just hums and tunes him out, focusing on the noise of the street outside. It’s a challenge to pick apart the individual moving pieces of a crowd but it’s enough of a distraction until Jaskier throws his hands up.

“You know, all of this,” Jaskier waves generally at Geralt’s eyes, “explains why you’re such a shit storyteller.”

He senses there’s more to this, can feel Jaskier winding up to something. It’s a quiet evening and a nice tavern, so he indulges. “Does it?”

“Well, I suppose much of the blame falls on me.” Rustling, and the clinking of several unidentifiable objects in Jaskier’s bag, as he fishes out his notebook. “I wasn’t asking the right questions.”

Geralt can’t tell what he’s writing, but he hears a few long drags of the pen and figures he might be drawing something. A box, maybe? A chart, a probably. A series of shorter scratches, for letters.

Jaskier grins, wide enough that Geralt hears it without concentrating. “Right. Are you ready?”

“For?”

“Your role in the creative process. Now, what did the rotfiend smell like?”

Geralt scrunches his nose and braces for a complicated answer. “I’ll need a few more drinks before I get into that.”

Wordlessly, Jaskier waves for another round and the questions begin. It seems like Jaskier is determined to pick apart every aspect of his sensory experience and, as they get deeper in drinks, Geralt is willing to play along. He’s never talked about it, at length, like this and it’s fascinating to hear the things Jaskier can’t detect, the parameters of human senses that were lost to him long before his vision was.

He talks until the candles stop giving off heat and his words start to slow, having detailed every smell, sound, feel, and taste that he can articulate. Sleep comes easy, after he lets Jaskier describe the pattern of the quilt and climb in beside him, warm and tired.

Jaskier’s heartbeat, though faster than his own, forms an easy rhythm to follow into unconsciousness, sinking into a darkness he no longer registers.

The next time they’re in a tavern, he listens carefully to Jaskier’s new song, lyrics filled with more sounds and smells than he’s used to hearing described. Where there was once brilliant colors and hideous monsters, there is now rich smells and vicious growls.

He can’t help but smile, hiding it behind his tankard.

How Jaskier worked rotting flesh into a chorus is beyond him, but it earns a clap.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #vesemir #blind!Geralt #my ao3 account is the same username btw #im not dead!#i know i nearly never post here anymore lmao

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quietlyimplode · 4 years ago

Text

Whumptober2020 — #2 Kidnapped

Clint/Nat - With Tony and Pepper coming to help.

“Natasha’s been kidnapped. She was taken off the roof of our hotel adjacent building. There was a struggle. I need your help. This is a secure line.” He says it robotically, breaking it down so there’s no room for misunderstandings.

He can hear Tony typing. “Where are you?”

Clint/Nat

Day 1 //

——-

The mission in Morocco was indeed a shit show.

Landing in Rabat, Clint had that feeling that things were just going to go wrong; an overpowering pit of the stomach, dejavu butterfly- monster mash of anticipation; making him drag his feet at every transition. Natasha, however, had been in her element, large hat, beautifully dressed, tan the perfect shade and looking like a local as they headed for the Kasbah of the Udayas to meet with their contact.

Their driver had, of course, taken them the long way round but it had given them time to scout the area so neither minded the drive.

“You,” the driver had started, “here for a holiday?”

Natasha had smiled, making light conversation easily. It had allowed Clint to take in the scenery, and scout points where he could perch. He paid more attention when Natasha reached across and grabbed his hand squeezing lightly. Looking across, she signed low for him to check if anyone was following, whilst continuing to talk about London where she was supposedly from. He’s often in awe of her but it’s times like this where the phrase ‘competence porn’ feels apt. There’s no way he could multitask like her.

Clint hadn’t noticed anyone following, assuming their arrival had gone unnoticed, who were they in a city of just over half a million people?

Intel leading them here had been from Natasha’s contact in Casablanca, he assumes it’s clean; the Black Widow’s reputation for revenge of those who would dare cross her is obvious, perhaps now, outdated.

He signs back his observations, to which she nods and inquires to the driver how much longer til they arrive. It obvious that the driver doesn’t want to give up the fare, as he drives around the tourist attraction , before stopping to let them out. Clint tips him well enough to be forgotten instantly as Natasha heads to the front desk to pay the entry fee.

The meet goes as well as can be expected and the intel they gain is easily fed back to their superiors. They ditch the burner phone and shed their personas and walk to their hotel, holding hands like two lovers on a evening walk. Their hotel is basic and they hope to be gone by the morning. Natasha takes first watch and Clint makes himself sleep, trusting she’ll wake him when it’s his turn to watch their backs. They could stay in the hotel room, but both know the risks of being ambushed in a confined space, the odds they would both make it would be low; so the compromise of shift watch is fair. He had properly scouted the area whilst Natasha had gone for dinner- he’s confident in the spot he chose for the watch, high enough to not be noticed, close enough to the hotel to raise alarms.

Clint's body clock wakes him exactly 5 hours after falling asleep- no Natasha. Which in itself isn’t odd as she may be on her way, but he feels it, Clint’s damn spidey-sense is fucking blaring. He heads for the scout point and he can feel the butterflies turn into stones as his stomach bottoms out again, feelings returning tenfold. It makes him want to throw up. Desperate now, he calls Natasha. There’s no answer, of course she didn’t take her phone and they’d got rid of the burner earlier. He hopes to god she left her earpiece in.. The one he left back at the hotel. Fuck.

The scout point shows signs of a struggle- scuff marks, blood, she had time to put up a fight then. He’s nervous. And worried.

Hurrying now, he calls Tony, sprinting back to the hotel. He can’t think of what else to do. If he goes through the proper channels, he’d be recalled, they’d go through the mission with a fine tooth comb- all of that takes time. Time he does not have; time Natasha does not have. He wants to capitalize on not being too far behind whoever’s kidnapped her.

Clint dials Tony again. And again when he doesn’t pick up. Clint rounds on the hotel, out of breath. Hands on his knees he swipes to get into the room.

Ringing Pepper now, he’s desperate. He calculates quickly in his head the time 1am here means 10pm in New York; laughing darkly as he thinks that the one time Tony’s gone to bed early or actually getting some sleep. Pepper answers on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Pepper? It’sNatashaineedTony.” He said catching his breath and blurting it out.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Pepper, it’s Clint. I need Tony,” he rephrases; slowing his speech and breaking his words.

Pepper sighs, “he’s in the workshop, can you hold?”

Nodding and then realizing she can’t see him, he responds affirmatively.

He’s packing a go-bag, Natasha would be appalled at the organization but he’s not thinking right.

Tony’s jovial hello is not what he needs right now.

Clint makes himself stop. Makes himself explain the necessity of Tony and Iron Man.

He can hear Tony typing. “Where are you?”

Clint gives the coordinates, looking them up on his phone.

“Rabat? You’re in Rabat? That’s a 12 hour flight commercial, maybe 6 by quinjet, maybe 2 by suit. I’ll re-task one with medical now,” Clint can hear Tony thinking; at least one of them is thinking straight. “I’m looking at satellite footage, when was she taken?”

Clint doesn’t know.

“We got back to the hotel, ate and then she left for the scout point. She was on first watch. I think she has her earpiece in. Can you track that?”

More furious typing.

“She’s about 21 miles from you, the earpiece is pinging from an importer warehouse. I can meet you there but it’s going to take me around two hours flying at full speed; even if we get her the jets going to be 4 hours behind me. Do you have a plan?”

Clint is reluctant to admit he doesn’t. He wants to get to the warehouse now. He doesn’t want to wait two hours, it’s going to take around an hour to get there regardless.

Tony is, surprisingly a voice of reason. He knows Tony loves Natasha - not like he does but they connect in a way he doesn’t get. Maybe joint trauma, who knows. He respects it, and right now he is thankful for it.

“I’m on my way. Head to the warehouse; I know you are anyway, and I’ll meet you there. The warehouse is guarded - I would advise not to engage tactically it’d be better to have a diversion and get her out when attention is elsewhere.” He can hear Tony jogging, talking as he goes “Who are these guys? Clint; so you know; they’re everywhere. If you can; wait for my signal. Get yourself in position I’ll be there as soon as I can, I’m swapping to your comms line now. The jets already left, Pepper is on board, and a med team. They’ll be there in just under 6 hours. We will have to get her out and get to the airport. Let’s try and get her on coms.. If she’s conscious…” he leaves that thought hanging.

“Anyway. I’m now on comms, I’ll catch you soon bird boy. Hang tight.” He hangs up the phone, and stuffs it in his back pocket. Clint’s taken the opportunity to check out and head for the ally; looking to steal a car whilst Tony’s been talking.

Tony’s right, it’s going to take him an hour to get there, even at this time. He’s thankful for the cover of darkness; the black fiat is ugly but does the job. It’s an old enough model that he can jimmy the lock and hot wire the steering. He sets the coordinates on his phone and leaves.

By the time he gets there he checks in with Tony, who reports he’s 45 minutes out. Enough time for a full scout. He tries Natasha again, tapping his com-link. It’s toast. Unless.. He connects it to his phone and runs diagnostics. He’s not as technical as Tony but he has a few tricks. When he reconnects he hears the tail end of his name.

Had she been calling it the whole time, or was that just freakishly good timing? Tony hears it too.

“Tash?!” He tries. He can hear her breath hitching. Fuck. She’s not ok. “We’re coming for you.”

Tony’s more practical and Clint’s never been more thankful for him. He’s an ass but a helpful ass, “tell us what you can?”.

Clint wants to infiltrate now. He’s desperate; Natasha describes that she can’t see anything. Not helpful. And that she can’t move. Worrying. There’s nothing after that. Tony lets her know that they’ve tracked her earpiece. She’s silent after that. No one really has anything to say except the obvious. They’re coming.

Clint heads to the back of warehouse.

Tony is now 20 minutes out.

And then it starts.

Natasha is screaming.

It’s excruciating.

Tony’s yelling at him to wait, but he can’t. He heads in. This place is a maze. Navigating the stairs, he hears Tony arrive. The explosion that sounds and rocks the building. He should have waited but he can still hear Natasha screaming and it’s ringing in his ears.

All of sudden she stops, and so does his heart. Moving faster he gets to the lower levels. Shooting two thugs in the face he starts checking rooms.

Tony is creating a hell of a diversion, drawing fire. Clint let’s him know that he hasn’t found her yet. The firefight outside continues.

The last room he checks is dark, and he heads inside. There’s something inside, he clears the doorway and finds her strapped to a table, his heart breaks in two- there’s straps around her feet, torso and arms; as he gets closer he sees the one around around her neck. Fuck.

The minefield of this trauma is just starting. He can see the rise and fall of her chest and at least she’s alive to see the c-ptsd.

Trying to rouse her he calls her name, he unstraps her ankles, and wrists; moving to her torso she starts bucking against the restraint. He tries to reassure her whilst undoing the strap; wounds that were oozing now have a streaky stream of blood. The wound on her stomach is hideous and her wrists and ankles have broken skin all around them and that’s just what he can see. He can feel her body tremors which he knows from experience only comes from electric shock. He finishes with her torso and moves to her neck. In hindsight, he should have started there, her body curls up in a fetal position - sounds of distress that aren’t words and not crying come hard and fast. Clint squats next to her face, brushing her hair back, his hand coming away with blood. He’s working as fast as he can with the strap around her neck, blood making it both slippery and sticky, fingers working the clasp.

It takes a lot for Natasha to scream, this he knows. He wonders how many were working on her to get her this distressed, this quickly. He tells her that it’s over, it’s done and they’re dead (he hopes they are), he picks her up and advises her they’re leaving.

Clint pulls a blanket from his pack and wraps her in it. He places a gun in her hands. At the most it makes her feel safe, at worse she shoots something or someone. He just wants her to be safe with him. She was supposed to be safe with him.

Clint just talks, tells her everything that’s happened since they split up. Clint tells her everything and nothing hoping it’s enough to keep her semi-lucid and awake.

Tony updates him that he’s leaving to meet the quinjet that’s made double time across the sea. He bundles her in the tiny fiat and heads for the airport. Clint tries to keep her awake, failing miserably; Natasha is moaning in pain and there’s nothing he can do at this point. He worries about concussion and trauma, but it can hold. He wants to get out of here.

Arriving at the airport, he sees Tony and Pepper and the quinjet waiting. Bundling Natasha into his arms, he tries to rouse her. He greets the couple, both taking one look at Natasha and hurrying into the jet. It’s when they’re sitting and he’s strapped himself in with assistance from Tony; arguing about whether Natasha should be in a hospital or at the very least needs medical interventions that Clint feels Natasha rouse. He feels her burying her head into his neck, straining for breath. Cracked ribs maybe? Tony notices, of course he does, her breathing is audible; Tony tries to make his case again and he feels Natasha trembling when medical is mentioned. Clint feels her pain. He brushes her hair away from her ear, wanting to be clear.

“Natasha. We can sedate you and fix you up if you want?”

He feels the shake of her head and he drops it immediately. It’s a long ride back to New York.

—-

Next up: we head back to the events which led Natasha to be captured (it’s shorter). Thanks everyone who’s liking and reblogging, you’re all brilliant. I also need to say, that I’m 100% on mobile so the formatting is shoddy - I’ll try and get on the computer to put it under a cut but that won’t probs happen til Monday, so sorry about that.

#whumptober2020 #clintasha #natasha romanoff #black widow #clint barton #tony stark #hawkeye #pepper potts #fanfic #whump #no.2 kidnapped #no.2 #kidnapped tw #torture tw #21 miles is 35km - just so you know #mine #let the games continue #sorry not sorry

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gabekidd · 4 years ago

Text

Best Two Out of Three, Part 14

Is it too early to post this? It’s only 10:30 a.m. here. But whatever, I can’t wait.

This part came about pretty much exclusively because @what-does-mine-say wanted suits. But now that it’s done I’m a little nervous y’all might murder me for putting you through yet another emotional ringer? ESPECIALLY after what happened on Dynamite last night?

*awkwardly dances away*

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 14/26

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC x Cash Wheeler and Adam Page x OFC

Warnings: Angst, alcohol use, language

Word Count: 4k

Catch up on previous parts here.

It was the night before Dynamite, and after what had happened with Kenny the previous week, Alex had decided that a serious girls’ night was in order. She’d been somewhat nervous to ask Callie—were they friends now? She didn’t really know—but Callie had been so thrilled when she had that she’d immediately kicked Adam out of their hotel room—"Go drink with Cash and Dax, or something,”—and dragged Alex to the store to get supplies. Now they were loaded up with everything they needed for a proper girls’ night: face masks, take out menus, alcohol, chocolate. Yes—this was just what Alex needed.

“Is it bad that I’m actually excited to kick Adam out for a while?” Callie grinned as they made their way back to the room.

“No,” Alex assured her. “I mean, Cash and I are still in the honeymoon phase and he’s definitely getting it later, but right now I could really use some girl time.”

Callie smirked. “You know you have to dish about that, right? It’s girls’ night law.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “About Cash?”

Callie just nodded.

“I don’t know,” Alex hesitantly returned. “If I dish about Cash then you have to dish about Adam, and that might just be weird.”

She shrugged as they arrived at the room. “I don’t know; we could compare notes on how good a kisser he is.”

Alex stared back at her smirk, stunned. “You want to talk about the time I made out with your boyfriend? Who are you and what have you done with Callie?”

Callie just playfully rolled her eyes as she used her key card to unlock the door. They entered the room; but as they walked further inside, they both came to a sudden stop at what they saw. Two bunches of long-stemmed red roses laid on each bed next to two beautiful cocktail dresses.

Alex let out a surprised gasp—but Callie’s reaction was a bit different. “They’ve ruined girls’ night.”

Alex sent her a look as she hurried over to the bed with the wine-colored dress. She didn’t know why, but she felt like that one was hers. Sure enough, a note on top of the dress said her name. She read it out loud. “Alex, meet me at the bar at eight. Cash.” She looked excitedly at Callie. “What does yours say?”

She picked up the note from her dress. “The same,” she said. “Well, except for the names, obviously.”

Alex couldn’t stop smiling. “It looks like they’ve planned a double date,” she said in a sing-song voice. She picked up the dress. It was a sexy little lace number with a plunging neckline and spaghetti straps that crossed in the back. She bit her lip. Cash had probably bought it because he thought it would look better on the floor.

“Well, mine is a bit extra,” Callie said as she looked over the dress Adam had gotten her. It was a one-sleeved figure-hugging LBD—and it was covered entirely in sequins. She smirked. “I love it, but it’s definitely extra.”

“Callie,” Alex started. “Adam’s shirts? You have to be extra to compete with those things.” She nearly snorted with laughter. Callie couldn’t help but return it.

“Fair enough.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Sometime later, Callie and Alex walked to the elevators to head down to the hotel bar, all done up in their new dresses. And even though they’d tried their hardest to pry it out of Adam and Cash while they’d gotten ready, they had no idea what they had planned for the evening.

“If they made us dress up, they must have too, right?” Alex asked as they stepped onto the elevator.

“They better have,” Callie returned. “I have a thing for suits. Adam doesn’t wear them enough.”

Alex let out a laugh. “What, his bolo ties don’t do it for you?”

“Oh no, they do,” she assured. “But suits are different.”

The elevator arrived at the lobby with a ding. Alex’s heart thrummed faster in her chest as they made their way to the bar; and when they arrived, heat spread throughout her core. Adam and Cash were in suits—and fuck Cash looked sexy.

She hurried over and pulled him into a feverish kiss, unable to contain herself. He moaned against her mouth, drawing her close. Alex was seriously considering dragging him off somewhere private when he pulled away, nipping at her bottom lip as he did. He practically growled as his eyes trailed over her body.

“Do you have any idea what I want to do to you right now?”

“Mm, why don’t you tell me?” she purred.

He smirked. “Trust me, it’s not appropriate.”

“Get a room,” Adam commented—but Callie kissed his neck.

“You don’t scrub up too bad, cowboy,” she whispered to him.

He let out a growl himself then. “Don’t start that yet, we won’t make it to the restaurant.”

Callie just smirked.

“How long have you two been planning this?” Alex asked.

“Since last week,” Cash answered. He gave her a cocky grin. “I’d say sorry to ruin girls’ night, but I’m not sorry at all.”

“Me neither,” Adam added. “That dress wasn’t cheap.”

Callie lightly smacked his shoulder. “Well where are we going, then?” she asked him.

“This new place that opened up downtown. It looks pretty fancy and we thought, why not? You two deserve the best.”

Callie and Alex exchanged a grin. Clearly, Adam and Cash had really thought this out.

“Come on,” Adam added. “The car’s already here.”

The two couples walked hand-in-hand toward the front entrance of the hotel. Alex hugged Cash’s arm as they stepped out into the evening air; but, suddenly, her heart flew into her mouth. Matt, Nick, and Kenny had just arrived, and they were walking right toward them.

Her eyes connected with Kenny’s. She looked away, guilt rising inside her; and then, unexpectedly, Cash nodded at them.

“Hey, boys!” he smirked. It wasn’t an attempt at a friendly greeting—he was clearly showing off. Alex tightened her grip on his hand in aggravation—she’d asked him not to rub it Kenny’s face, multiple times—but he mistook it for affection and squeezed back. All she could do was roll her eyes, her heart still in her throat.

“Guys and girls,” Nick nodded at them as they passed. “Big night out?”

“Just dinner,” Adam returned. It seemed like he was trying to downplay it, Alex noticed. Maybe she wasn’t the only one harboring some guilt over the situation. “Y’all have a good night,” he added as they reached the waiting SUV.

“You, too,” Nick returned. Neither Matt nor Kenny said a word.

Cash helped Alex into the car. As she slid into a seat and buckled her seat belt, she couldn’t help but look out the window after Kenny. She watched as Matt clasped a comforting hand on his shoulder as they disappeared into the hotel. Her stomach twisted. He must know, she thought. Of course Matt would know; Kenny was his best friend. It made her wonder if anyone else knew.

Cash slid a hand onto her bare thigh, drawing her attention back to him. He leaned into her ear. “I hope you don’t like that dress too much, because I promise I’m gonna rip it off you as soon as we get back to the room.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek. She gave him a coy smile as he squeezed her leg. But she couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.

* * * * * * * * * *

Adam had been right—the restaurant was fancy. Out of the four of them, Callie was the only one who didn’t seem completely out of her element. But Cash and Adam leaned into it and ordered a bottle of champagne for the table. Alex had more or less downed her first glass and was already on her second. She needed it after that run-in with Kenny.

Their appetizer had just arrived when she pushed back her seat. “I’m gonna go hunt out the bathroom,” she said.

Cash gave her teasing grin. “That champagne went right through you, huh? Should we order another bottle?”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“No, just a little buzzed. I want to make sure you’re good for dessert later,” he returned with a wink.

“Man,” Adam shot, “stop stealing all my lines.”

Callie lightly smacked his shoulder again as she pushed her seat back, too. “I’ll go with you. Girls have to use the bathroom in pairs,” she joked.

They made their way through the restaurant toward the bathroom. Admiring eyes followed them as they passed by, some more obvious than others, confirming just how good they looked. As soon as they were inside the ladies’ room, Callie sent Alex a grin.

“Cash can’t keep his hands off you.”

Alex felt heat rise in her cheeks; but she became suddenly distracted by the full-length mirror on the wall. “Oo, this is a good selfie mirror.” She pulled her phone out of her clutch—but she froze. There was a text message on the screen. From Kenny.

You look absolutely gorgeous tonight.

Her heart beat faster in her chest as she stared at it. Callie walked up behind her and she came to her senses and tried to clear the message from the screen—but she wasn’t fast enough.

“I’ve already seen it,” Callie said. “Just ignore it.”

Alex let out a huff. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, that was easier said than done. She looked down at her hands. She needed to get last week off her chest, and now seemed like as good an opportunity as she’d get. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to say anything? Especially not to Adam.”

Callie’s brow furrowed. But she nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

Alex drew in a deep breath. “When I went to get your earrings last week, Kenny was in the locker room. He was drinking.”

Callie’s eyes bulged. “What?”

“That’s not even the half of it,” Alex went on. Callie stared at her, waiting. She spit it out before she could stop herself. “He told me he’s in love with me.”

She expected Callie to gasp, clasp a hand over her mouth, something. But she barely reacted. It was almost like she’d already known. And then she said, “Well, you don’t have to worry about me telling Adam that. He already knows.”

It was Alex who was confused now. “What?”

Callie shifted awkwardly on her heels. “Right after FTR doused Kenny in beer he and Adam got into it back in the locker room,” she explained. “Kenny blurted out in the heat of the moment that he’s in love with you. Adam told me about it at the hotel later that night.”

Alex took a step back against the wall, suddenly feeling lightheaded. That explained Adam’s reaction when they’d run into Kenny on the way out of the hotel. “Who else knows?” she asked.

“Just the Bucks,” Callie said. “They were in the locker room, too.”

Alex ran an anxious hand over her brow. “So that means all of us here know that Kenny is in love with me. Except my boyfriend.”

Callie gripped her shoulders, doing her best to calm her down before she could get any more upset. “Exactly—Cash is your boyfriend,” she said. “He planned this night for you, not Kenny. Who cares about a text? You look hot; I could’ve told you that. So put it out of your mind, and let’s go back out there and enjoy our double date. Okay?”

Alex worried at her lip. But she nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Callie grinned. “Of course I am. Come on, you need another glass of champagne.”

She took Alex’s arm and pulled her back out of the bathroom. And even though Alex knew Callie was right, she couldn’t put Kenny’s text out of her mind—and she doubted champagne would help.

* * * * * * * * * *

Kenny had sat watching his phone for the last twenty minutes after sending that text to Alex. He leaned back on his bed, cursing himself. He knew he shouldn’t have sent it, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. When he’d spotted Alex walking out in that dress, she’d literally taken his breath away. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He wanted to tell her; he wanted to show her how absolutely perfect he thought she was. But he couldn’t, and it killed him.

And Cash. That Carolina bastard had known exactly what he was doing when he’d called out at him, Matt, and Nick with that stupid smirk on his face. Kenny’s hand had balled into a fist at his side, just itching to drop Cash where he stood; but then he’d noticed how Alex had tensed and rolled her eyes. As much as he wanted to, Kenny didn’t need to kick Cash’s ass. If he kept acting like a childish asshole, he’d shoot himself in the foot.

A knock on the door jarred Kenny from his thoughts. He let out a sigh as he stood and crossed the room; that would be Matt and Nick. They insisted on going out to dinner, even though he didn’t have much of an appetite at all. He knew they were just trying to be good friends and distract him from Alex—but that would be impossible tonight.

He pulled open the door. “You ready, bud?” Nick asked.

“We’re going nostalgic tonight,” Matt added. “TGI Fridaaayyysss!”

Kenny stared listlessly back at them. Their smiles faltered, clearly disappointed that he hadn’t shown the least bit excitement. “Whatever,” he returned. “Let’s just get out of here.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Later that night, Alex and Cash and Callie and Adam had returned to the hotel bar, not ready for the evening to end quite yet. Following Callie’s pep talk in the ladies’ room, Alex had managed to push Kenny’s text to the back of her mind—but it was still there, lingering, creeping back to the forefront every now again until she’d force it back down once more. Hopefully, Cash would make her forget it for good once they got back to their room.

“Okay, three whiskeys and a Sex on the Beach for my girl,” Adam announced as he returned to the table, not-so-skillfully holding four drink glasses in his hands. He nearly spilled Callie’s until she quickly took it from him. He smiled and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks, darlin’.”

She grinned as he sat down next to her. “Maybe we shouldn’t have sent the drunkest one to get the drinks.”

“What?” he proclaimed. “No, I am not the drunkest one.”

“Like hell you aren’t,” Cash returned.

Alex arched a brow at him. “You aren’t too far behind him, sir.”

He flashed a devilish grin. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll still make good on that promise.”

Alex squirmed in her seat at the thought—but then Callie suddenly kicked her under the table. “Ow! What the hell was—”

But Callie gave her a meaningful look and jolted her head in the direction of the lobby, which they had a clear view of from where they sat. Alex turned around; and her heart leapt into her throat again. Kenny, Matt, and Nick had just walked in and were crossing through to the elevators.

Adam spotted them, too. “Hey! It’s my tag team partner!” he loudly proclaimed. “Hey! Kenny!”

Callie reached for Adam’s arm to pull it down, but it was too late—he’d already waved Kenny over. She glared at him. “Are you serious?”

But Adam’s brain was too fogged with alcohol to see a problem. “What? He’s my friend.”

Callie bit down on her jaw and sent Alex an apologetic look. But there was nothing either of them could do about it. Kenny was already walking over.

“Hey, man,” Adam greeted him with a lazy grin. “Are you ready for our match against Dark Order tomorrow? The titles are on the line!”

Kenny’s brow furrowed with a mixture of confusion and amusement as he came to a stop next to the table. Next to Alex. “Yeah, I’m aware,” he said. “I’m ready, but… I’m a little concerned about you, now.”

Cash scoffed as he brought his drink to his lips. Kenny glanced briefly at him before Adam spoke again.

“What? Nah,” he shook his head. “Don’t worry about me. We’ll hit Last Call just like we always and do and walk out of there and still AEW World Tag Team Champions.” He motioned his glass toward him. “Trust me.”

Cash scoffed again. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” he remarked under his breath. Alex stiffened in her seat. She prayed that Kenny hadn’t heard anything. But she wasn’t so lucky.

“What was that?” Kenny asked.

Cash looked up at him. “I said enjoy having the championships while it lasts,” he repeated, louder that time. “Because, you know. They won’t be yours for much longer.”

He flashed a smirk as he took another drink. The same exact smirk he’d given Kenny earlier in the night. Anger rose in Alex’s chest. If Cash thought being a cocky asshole would turn her on, he was wrong. Not when it was this personal.

Kenny gave a sarcastic laugh. “Okay,” he nodded. “Well, I’m gonna go.” He started to leave—but then he stopped again. “Oh, and Alex.” He looked her right in the eye. “You look beautiful. Red’s always been your color.”

Alex stared back at him, mute. It felt like her entire body was on fire. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest that it completely overwhelmed her. But then Cash snapped her back to her senses.

“Wow. Really, Omega?”

He turned around in his seat, glaring up at Kenny. “Cash, don’t,” Callie warned, trying to stop anything before it could start—but Kenny spoke over her.

“What?” he asked. “I can’t pay her a compliment?”

Cash laughed wryly to himself. “You weren’t just paying her a compliment and you know it.”

Kenny stared back at him. He shrugged. “Maybe not. But you’re a fucking asshole, so.”

Cash’s chair scraped against the floor as he abruptly stood from the table. “You want to say that again?”

He got right in Kenny’s face. But Kenny didn’t flinch. “Don’t start with me, man. Seriously.”

“Oh, yeah?” Cash pushed him.

Adam stood from his seat. “Guys, come on,” he started—but Kenny pushed Cash back harder, causing him to stumble into the table, and the next thing anyone knew, Cash swung hard and punched Kenny right in his left eye. Adam scrambled to intervene, but before he could make it around the table Kenny struck back, clocking Cash hard across the mouth. Adam grabbed Kenny by the back of his shirt and jerked him back while Alex stood in between them.

“Stop!” she shouted. She glared at each of them in turn, anger bubbling up inside her. “You’re both acting like idiots!”

Neither of them could meet her eyes, looking stubbornly away from her scorn like two kids caught fighting in the schoolyard. Alex didn’t want to be around it.

“I’m not dealing with this.”

She grabbed her clutch from the table. Cash’s face fell. “Alex—”

“No,” she cut him off. “You’ve done enough.” And with that she stormed out without so much as a second glance. She didn’t want either of them to see her cry.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex hadn’t been back in the hotel room five minutes before the door opened and Cash walked in. She didn’t move or look up from where she sat on the end of the bed, still in her dress, tears and black streaks of mascara staining her cheeks. She stubbornly wiped them away as he moved toward her, but there was no hiding that she’d been crying.

“Sweetheart…”

“Don’t,” Alex said, her voice choked. She stood up and grabbed one of her hair ties from the nightstand, pulling her long hair up into a bun on top of her head as she pushed past him into the bathroom. She turned on the sink and splashed water on her face, cleaning it of her tears and ruined makeup. Cash came up behind her. She looked at him through the mirror. His eyes were full of remorse.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I know I ruined the night, but let’s not go to bed mad at each other.”

“Well it’ll be your fault if we do,” she bluntly returned.

His face fell. “I know.” He stepped closer and took her gently by the hips, pulling her back against him. “I just had an amazing night with the most beautiful girl in the world and I ruined it by acting like a hotheaded asshole.”

He pressed a kiss to her neck. When she didn’t stop him, he gave her another, and another. Alex’s eyes fell closed and leaned back against his chest. But as good as it felt, she was still mad at him. “Why did you do that?”

“I didn’t like what he said to you,” he answered between kisses. “I didn’t like the way he said it to you.”

“You antagonized him. After I asked you not to.”

He stopped. Their eyes met in the mirror. “I know,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”

Alex frowned. She believed him. But an apology didn’t just make it go away.

She turned around in his arms. She reached up and brushed her thumb under his mouth. There was half-dried blood on his bottom lip. “He busted your lip.”

“Not before I gave him a black eye.”

She gave him a flat look.

“Sorry,” he returned. But he couldn’t stop from smirking.

Alex let out a sigh as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. “What am I gonna do with you?”

She felt him laugh against her. “I can be an idiot sometimes. But I promise I’ll make it worth it.”

She smiled and squeezed him tighter. “You better.”

He ran his thumb over her bare back as he held her, and Alex suddenly did want him to undress her. Slowly, deliberately. She wanted him to carry her over to the bed and make love to her.

“You know we’ve been together a month this week,” he said.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“It’s been the best month of my life.”

Alex’s heart thrummed faster in her chest. He pulled back and looked into her eyes. The vulnerability on his face gave him away before he even said it.

“I’m falling for you, Alex. I know it doesn’t make it better, but… I think that’s why I reacted the way I did when Kenny said that to you. And I know you don’t want to hear it, but the fact of the matter is I stole you from him. And I don’t know… I guess sometimes I worry he could steal you back.”

Tears welled in Alex’s eyes again. She felt numb—and she shouldn’t have. She should have been over the moon because the truth was that she was falling for Cash, too. Fast. Hard. But as she looked back into his eyes, still glassy from a bit too much to drink, she couldn’t help but be reminded of Kenny. He’d had that exact same look on his face last week, that same intense vulnerability when he’d told her he loved her. And if she didn’t do something, her guilt would cause his confession to come up like word vomit.

So she kissed Cash. Genuinely, deeply, not caring about the blood at his lip. When she finally pulled away, breathless, she looked up at him and said, “So make me yours, then.”

Immediately, Cash dipped down and picked her up, cradling her underneath her backside. And Alex brought her lips down to meet his, kissing him as they blindly made their way to the bed, hoping to tell him with her body what she couldn’t with words.

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eirabach · 5 years ago

Text

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A Pen and Ink goodbye for @olliepig who enabled my need for ridiculous angst. It got a bit out of hand. Under the cut for semi-smut adjacent shenanigans. Apparently I don't title fic in this fandom idk why.

---

Penelope has been on the island since daybreak.

That's not odd, not in and of itself. This is International Rescue's last day as -- as whatever International Rescue has been for the past eight years. Penelope has been a part of that from the off. Of course she's here.

It is sorta odd that he hasn't seen her.

He's seen FAB1 docked neatly in the corner of the space Two has left behind. He's seen Parker sat at the table with Grandma, the two of them blaring the old rock classics Grandma always favours when she's stressed. He's even heard Penelope herself, clipped and formal as she discusses practicalities with Kayo. He’s spotted the wag of Sherbet's rear as he disappears around a bend.

So it is odd that he hasn't actually seen Penelope herself.

It's odder still that it's on purpose.

Even he doesn't know why, not really. He's a people person. He seeks them out, whether they want him there or not, and he is, absolutely and above almost anything else, a Penelope person.

He’s spent almost all of his adult life following Penelope about like Sherbet on speed, and now, now when whatever he might say to her might actually matter, might actually change something, he’s hiding.

It doesn't make sense, but there it is.

It probably looks like cowardice. It isn’t.

The truth is his skin is too tight, his heart too large and too loud, and everything within him seems to be vibrating at a level and pitch that suggests immediate and violent combustion.

He takes himself off because he can't trust himself right now. Can't trust that he won't crack like a hull under pressure, turn into some sort of hysterical wreck and get himself grounded because what better reintroduction to his long lost father than Gordon couldn't come, dad. Gordon's gone mad.

He wonders if his dad would even be surprised. Eight years alone, maybe he might be right there with him.

So he hides himself away from Scott's demands and Virgil's concerns and Alan's excitement. Avoids Grandma's hugs. Plans to take himself off to his room and meditate himself back to earth. The irony isn't lost on him.

Except now Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward is sitting in the corridor, Sherbet in her lap and her head resting against his bedroom door. The strap of her Thai silk nightgown slipping from her shoulder and honestly, honestly, this is not helping him stay sane. Not at all.

"Um," he says. A positive opener. "Are you okay?"

"Did you know," Penelope says, because she never answers a question without posing one first, "that your brother has spent the last twenty minutes composing a farewell message of such overwrought emotional trauma that Parker almost wept?"

"Which brother?"

She lifts an eyebrow.

"Fair point. Who to this time?"

"An entire server's worth of people that he has never met." Her mouth twists wryly. “His very dearest friends.”

Gordon shrugs, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and watches the way Penelope curls her toes into the carpet over and over and over.

"Alan doesn't get out much. Well. He gets out in a rocket but for some reason I don't feel like that counts."

"That wasn't my point."

His eyes snap to hers, then, because there's something in the way she says it, something tight and sharp that pricks at the parts of him already spread too thin.

"He's under the impression that he may not return."

"He's dramatic like that."

"And you're not?" She stands, Sherbet tottering from her lap, the strap slipping further down her arm, and Gordon concentrates as hard as he dares on the space just below her left earlobe. "Gordon. Are you avoiding me?"

And of course he is, entirely, but telling her so seems like a really stupid idea. Utterly stupid. Stupid as his stupid eyes slipping down and along and following the curve of pale pink silk below her collarbone. He forces them upward, squints at the stain on the ceiling shaped just like Virgil's left foot. That had been a good Tuesday.

“Gordon!”

"No?" Not his greatest dramatic turn, this.

"Then you won't mind if I come in, then, will you."

"What?"

And this is really, terribly, excruciatingly unfair. Because if he was asked to count how many times he'd dreamed of this moment, of Penelope, flushed cheeks and a determined set to her jaw, her hand on the door handle and his bed six feet away, he'd struggle to settle on a number that didn't make him sound like a creep. In none of those dreams did he stare at her, mouth agape, and tremble like a virgin in a brothel. In none of those dreams had he ever, ever considered saying no. But to say he's not at his best, well, that's a level of understatement best left to Penny herself. And if he knows anything, more than his own name, more than the vagaries of Four's controls or the shades of Scott's moods, it's that Penny deserves better. Better than him at his best, and certainly better than whatever he's got to offer her now. Which seems, on balance, to just be a grouper's bug eyed stare.

Hot.

"Please, Gordon. I don't want to do this out here."

Oh. Well. Yeah, obviously. There are rules. Probably.

God, he’s never actually had to find out. That’s just embarrassing.

“I can see you thinking,” Penelope says. “Don’t be crass.”

“Can’t help it.”

“Gordon, please.” She sounds tired. Tired and strung out and there's a dark smudge under her eyes that might be jet-lag or might be something else all together. The daydream, such as it is, collapses into nothing under the weight of her hand, curled into a fist at her side, and the way her mouth turns down at the corners.

"Ah, shit. Come on, I'm sorry, come on."

He opens the door for her and sends a silent prayer of thanks to Scott, because Scott nags him about his room hourly (or at least he used to, back when Scott had time to care about such things) and probably the only way Penelope could look more any more out of place would be if she were surrounded by a month's worth of dirty laundry. It's bad enough that she's looking at his unmade bed.

He steals a look back through the still open door.

"Is Parker..?"

"Not invited," she states, and backheels the door shut. Sherbet scurries through just in time and sits looking from one to the other of them like a spectator at a tennis match. "We need to talk."

That, of course, is what he’s been trying to avoid. He’s immediately on the defensive. Twitchy. His eyes flick around the room and refuse to settle on her for more than a moment at a time. He can’t look at her and he can’t talk to her and if he doesn’t actually explode before she leave his room then he’s gonna have to consider this whole thing a success because he’s trembling so hard he can feel the floor shake.

"Super. I love talking. Love. It. What you want to talk about? Sunfish? Grandma’s chilli? Nepotism in the rescue industry?"

"Don't be factitious, Gordon. It doesn't suit you."

"My apologies," he offers a little bow. "Go ahead, your Ladyship."

She scowls. The hollows under her eyes are more obvious in the low light of the bedroom. His already leaden stomach roils uncomfortably to see them.

"Does it not strike you as odd that Alan is composing farewells to people whom he does not know, and you are refusing to look me in the eye?"

"We're gonna be gone like a day."

"Is that so?"

And maybe he should have paid attention to the way she says it, not cross, not at all, but just a little bit sad and a little bit uncertain, or maybe it's just that she's hit the crux of something Gordon hasn't quite dared to name, but something -- something just sort of snaps.

"The hell you getting at, Pen?"

"You know perfectly well --"

"No I don't!" And that's too loud, way too loud, would send a brother running any other time, have Parker hammering down the door. "I don't know anything anymore! I don't know how this is gonna work, any of it. I don't know shit about Oort clouds or, or what the point is in taking Four into space! I don't know what dad looks like, I don't know if he's out there I don't know what the hell I'm gonna do or he isn't or if he is, Penny! I don't know how to hold it together or how to hold my family together and I sure as hell don't know how I'm supposed to say goodbye." He needs his re-breather, he's out of oxygen, out of patience, out of time. "Not to you."

It's a confession, of sorts.

She takes it as permission.

Penny never does anything by half measures. She launches herself at him, bits of old scuba gear and half his shell collection going flying as his back hits his dresser, his hands scrabbling for purchase against the drawers as hers tighten in his hair and she crushes her mouth against his. Every ounce of blood in his body makes a sudden and impassioned journey downward and he's glad of the dresser because he's never gonna live it down if he faints.

She nips at his lower lip, and it's a damn close run thing.

Her tongue is hot and her grip is almost painful and he doesn't know what to do with his own hands, because if he holds her now he knows he's never going to be able to let her go.

Penelope, of course, is always two steps ahead.

She pulls back, just far enough to rest her forehead against his. Her breath stutters over his lips. He's not breathing much at all.

Slowly, so slowly, as though the process causes her physical pain, she releases her grip, her thumbs coming down to brush at his cheeks before she lets go entirely. She reaches up on her tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his forehead and steps back, hands neatly folded, cheeks flushed. Gordon blinks at her.

"I'm sorry," she says. "That was uncalled for."

Gordon makes a sound that might generously be called a whine. "If you think that was uncalled for then I'm afraid you're wildly off base."

"It seemed a better idea than yelling."

"Definitely a better idea than yelling."

"Not that I'm not upset with you for avoiding me."

"Understandable."

"Only that -- I'm not awfully good at this sort of thing either, you know."

"I really, extremely beg to differ."

"Not that." She rolls her eyes and he can't help but smile. "The overwrought emotional goodbyes sort of thing."

"I dunno, I like your version. Better than Alan's I bet -- wait." He narrows his eyes, takes hold of her shoulders. Her skin is soft and warm and her eyes are warmer, distracting him from whatever stupid joke he was going to make. She isn't looking at him like this is a joke. “Do you have some ulterior motive here? No, never mind, stupid question. You always have an ulterior motive.”

“That’s rude, Gordon.”

“That’s true, Penelope.”

But she’s smiling, just a tiny bit, and his heart lifts just a little to match.

"I'm not going to ask you to stay if that’s what you’re worried about," she says, soft as a promise she knows he truly able to make. "Only to come home. Regardless."

"Not planning to stay," he says in lieu of lying. "I like gravity."

"Other planets have gravity, Gordon."

"Yeah I know. It's a metaphor."

"Oh?" She sways into his space, just a little bit, and he feels his body chase hers as she tilts away, proving his point. "How poetic."

"Alan gets it from me."

"Hmm." She leans in again, her hand against his chest, and the rawness of her touch fades to something sweeter and darker that curls in his belly and is really probably best avoided right now because -- because something.

He can't make himself care.

"I don't want to say goodbye, Pen."

He doesn't say ever, but she hears it anyway. He can tell by the spark in her eyes, by the catch of her breath. They're good like that, the two of them. Finding each other in the liminal spaces between words.

Words are pretty overrated anyway, especially compared to her lips on his, gentle and lingering, one hand above his heart and the other at his jaw.

He's the one to deepen the kiss this time, to cup the back of her head and draw her closer, tighter, silk between his fingers, the dresser at his back. Bed is comfier. Bed is close. Bed is -- probably pushing his luck. But then again, maybe not, because she's the one tugging at his shirt, pulling him after her even as she makes short work of the buttons, pushes the sleeves from his arms. She's the one settling herself against his pillows, smiling when he hovers with his weight on his elbows, and presses a finger to his lips.

"Then don't."

#thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #penelope Creighton-Ward #pen and ink fic #is there an agreed tag for that?#idek #clare vs writers block #edited and written on my phone so pls forgive #i pray for the read more

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authoressofdarkness · 5 years ago

Text

Beauty and the Beast (Chapter 3)

Notes: I'm not going to say too much because I don't want to spoil this chapter. Only thing is my fair warnings. It's DARK. Some heavy non/dub-con elements are the only real thing this chapter, though. So yeah, enjoy!

When he wakes up, he has no idea where he is.

His eyes shoot open, and he tries to sit up only to get a head rush, spots dancing over his vision. He tries to lift his hands to his face and realizes they’re bound again.

A hand clamps down on his shoulder, forcing him to lay back down. “Take it easy, silly boy. You’re still regenerating all that blood.”

“Where am I?” The words are hard to get out, but at least he feels like he has control over his mouth again. And his limbs, even if they still feel heavy.

“In bed.” Something presses against his lips. A straw. Figuring there’s nothing he could probably give him right now to make this any worse, he parts his lips enough allow it and sucks gently. Still, he’s relieved to taste that it’s just water, and once he starts, he drains the whole glass.

A few blinks later, his vision starts to clear, and he realizes Stark is leaning over him, brows drawn together above brown eyes that almost look… is that concern?

Wait, brown eyes?

He frowns and blinks again several times. No. Definitely blue. And definitely no hint of anything besides cool amusement.

Stark leans over to set the glass down, and the slight shift in the bed under him makes him refocus quickly. It suddenly occurs to him what Stark had said. He’s in bed. With Stark. In Stark’s bed?

Stark cocks his head at him, a bemused smile toying at his lips. “You know, it’s no wonder you wore a mask. You have a horrible poker face.”

Peter closes his eyes again, trying to steady himself. “I wore a mask to hide my face from you.”

“Mm…” He feels the bed shift again, and then-

Shit. He opens his eyes. Stark has rolled on top of him, the length of his body only inches away from Peter’s, held up - and Peter subsequently caged in - by the arms on either side of his shoulders. He can feel the heat radiating off of the villain’s body, and he swallows thickly.

Stark grins, almost ferally. “And what a pretty face it is. And now it’s all mine.” He brushes a finger down his jawline again.

Goosebumps rise in the wake of his finger as it trails across his throat. Something in his stomach clenches. He should keep his mouth shut. It’s not as if he hadn’t realized that Stark could literally use him for whatever he wanted. And yet… “You think so?” he manages.

Stark quirks a brow down at him, grinning. “Oh, I know so. You are mine, Spiderling. You always were. And you always will be.”

The words feel like they sink from his ears down into his chest, hot and heavy with a lot of things that he didn’t want to examine right now. Not the implications of how long Stark had been hunting for him, nor that he’d had a plan for him all along. Not that he seemed like he really wasn’t going to kill him. Not that it seemed like killing him would be a mercy that he’d be wishing for soon. Not the barely hidden promise of all the things to come.

He doesn’t allow himself to dwell on any of that. Nor does he listen to the voice inside his head warning him that he should stay quiet, that Stark is probing him for an invitation, trying to provoke him into saying something stupid, and that opening his mouth means taking the bait. He finds he just… doesn’t care.

“Prove it, Stark.”

The effect of his words is nearly instantaneous. He watches Stark’s eyes darken, even as his grin grows more feral, triumphant. “Oh, I will,” he purrs, and the pure darkness of the tone sends a warning tingle down his spine.

And then Stark’s mouth is on his, a hand moving up to his hair and threading into his curls, gripping tight enough to hurt and tugging his head back as Stark attacks his mouth, working it open. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, hot and wet, then presses inside, tasting and dominating-

Peter bites down, shoving his bound hands into Stark’s chest at the same time. The nanotech kept him from being able to use his strength to break the bonds, but it didn’t keep him from using his strength.

Stark jerks away, cursing. He puts a hand to his mouth, chuckling darkly and shaking his head when it comes away bloody. “Cute,” he tells him dryly. Then he takes his chin, gripping it hard enough to hurt. “I knew you’d be a saucy little minx in bed. But you better watch that attitude, Parker.” He presses his thumb into his mouth before Peter can respond, pulling it open forcefully and trapping his tongue under his thumb. “Just remember, anything you think you can get away with doing to me, I can give back tenfold.” He leans down, putting his lips by Peter’s ear. “And it doesn’t have to be to you.” Then he’s kissing him again, teeth tugging on his top lip dangerously before his tongue dips back into his mouth, this time taking his sweet time tasting every inch, even smoothing over Peter’s pinned tongue and his own finger.

By the time he pulls away, Peter is desperate to breathe, mouth full of saliva that’s not entirely his own. He can taste a hint of blood from where he bit Stark’s tongue, and even as he pants and has to swallow several times around the finger still in his mouth, he can’t help feeling slightly satisfied with himself. He made Stark bleed. Just a little, but it’s still more than he ever accomplished before.

Stark pulls back slowly, almost purring as his lips and tongue drag along his chin and jaw. Peter swallows hard again, trying to regulate his breathing and focus on anything besides the wet warmth spreading along the path of Stark’s mouth as he moves down his neck.

“Umph!” A strangled cry leaves his throat before he can stop it at the sudden, sharp pain in his neck. It feels like-

Stark growls, jaw tight as he worries his teeth against Peter’s skin. Peter can’t help the choked groan that leaves him at the feeling, nor the whimper that tears from his throat when he feels Stark’s hardness brush against his leg as he releases his bite and sits up. Fuck.

Stark just chuckles at the sound. “Oh, silly little spider. I may not actually be a vampire, but you should have known I bite back.” He releases his chin, wiping his thumb across Peter’s chest. “Now. Up.” He climbs off of him, grabbing him by one of his bound arms and tugging him to his feet.

Peter gets to his feet immediately when ordered, despite the head rush it gives him. He’s definitely still regenerating blood; he knows that feeling. It’s almost a relief to feel something he recognizes, especially after… that. Whatever just happened.

Stark is half-carrying, half-dragging him to their destination, but he can’t see well enough past the spots still dancing in his vision for him to be entirely certain of where they’re going until Stark is opening a door and then a second later he’s set on something cold and hard.

One of those metal tables. They’re back in the lab.

If only he had the mental or physical capabilities to do anything about it.

But he doesn’t. And all he can do is lay there as Stark straps him down to the cold metal, looking at him thoughtfully as he steps away.

The door opens again a moment later, but Peter can’t see Stark or the newcomer from his position. A moment later, he realizes he doesn’t need to.

“Tony, whatever this is, it better be good.”

A jolt runs up his spine. No. It can’t be.

Stark chuckles from somewhere behind him. “Oh, it is good. Unerringly, annoyingly good, in fact, Doctor. But also a scientific marvel, from what I’ve already seen. But don’t take my word for it. Take a look for yourself.”

“A marvel, huh?” that familiar voice muses, and then the owner steps into view, and Peter feels his Spider sense prickle in warning at the sight.

Dr. Banner. Bruce Banner. The Hulk. An Avenger. Or was he?

“Ah. Yeah, this one is a marvel,” Banner agrees, meeting Peter’s eyes and tilting his head. “How’d you end up here, Parker?”

“You know him?” Stark sounds almost pleasantly surprised.

“I didn’t know he was the Spider-Man. But we’ve met a few times. I suppose that explains a lot,” Banner muses. He walks up to Peter, tilting his head to the side and studying him. “What did you in, kid?” He sounds almost sympathetic, but he doesn’t show any signs of actually wanting to do anything about the state he’s currently in.

Peter raises his chin. “I traded myself in.”

Bruce draws his hand away, looking surprised. “Why would you do that?”

“Family,” Stark answers with some distaste, before Peter can say anything. “I had his aunt and uncle brought in. I let them go, since he turned himself in in their place.”

“You did not let Ben go,” Peter counters sharply, trying to send him a look but unable to crane his neck far enough to do it. It’s still stiff from both the IV and from Stark biting him right over the same spot a little while ago, and Stark is standing at just the right angle that he can’t turn and see him.

“I didn’t kill him. I told you, that in and of itself is a mercy,” Stark retorts.

“It’s hardly mercy when you’re continually using him against me,” Peter snaps before he can think better of it.

Suddenly Stark is there again, gripping his chin and jerking his head towards him with no regard for the pain in his neck. “It is mercy compared to what I would have done to anyone else. He is still a criminal. And yes, I am using him against you, and I will continue to until you learn your place.”

“Oh, learn my place, huh? Let me guess. Under you, right?”

Stark smirks, leaning close enough for their noses to brush. His grin only widens when Peter involuntarily jerks away from the touch. “Always, sweetheart. In every way.”

Banner only snorts, shooing Stark away. To Peter’s surprise, Stark chuckles darkly but complies, and he allows himself to release a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Banner may not have been who he thought he was, but it’s obvious from the way he touches him and his general demeanor that while he has no intention of stopping Stark, he wasn’t going to hurt Peter, either. “Who knew scrawny superheroes were your type, Tony.”

“Only when they’re feisty and intelligent. Everyone else bores me,” Stark replies flippantly. He sounds so calm, as if he wasn’t just up in Peter’s face, threatening both him and the life of his uncle.

“Looks like you already had a time with him,” Banner notes, running a finger against the bruise on the side of Peter’s neck. He lets out a low hiss at the pain.

“Not quite. Just a short lesson in who’s really in charge. I knew you’d be coming shortly, there wasn’t time for anything else.” Stark shrugs, returning to Banner’s side for a moment. “You have everything you need?”

“Of course. I know where everything is if not.”

“Good. I should get going, then.” Stark looks down at him again, tilting his chin up with a finger. “I’m leaving you with Doctor Banner for now. You will behave and do whatever he tells you to.”

The “or else” goes unspoken, and for that, at least, Peter is grateful. He doesn’t need another reminder of all the hellish things Stark has in store, just waiting in the wings for him to make a mistake.

He just nods. Stark stares at him for a moment, as if debating whether or not to believe him, and then shrugs, letting him go. He disappears from sight, and a moment later, Peter hears the telltale sound of a door shutting behind him. Now he’s alone with the mutant doctor with uncertain intentions and suddenly completely ambiguous loyalties. Great.

If he senses his thoughts, Banner doesn’t comment on them. Instead, he flashes him a small smile and simply says, “Alright. Let’s get started.”

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