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thestraggletag · 3 years

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Roll for Initiative, a Rumbelle D&D Fic

Summary: Tales of the Enchanted Forest was the hottest online D&D game, in part for its charismatic players, in part for the twisted turns of the DM's mind and in part because of the outrageous chemistry between its greatest OTP, the party's beautiful bard and the Dark One, an anti-hero side-character who is there to provide information and uncomfortable levels of UST. Mr Gold thinks it's a harmless flirtation that could never become anything else, just like his silly little crush on the town librarian, Belle French.

He's wrong.

Rating: Explicit.

Author’s Note: Surprise, @argoslight, it is I, your Gifter! Sorry to make you wait till near the end but I just had way more banter to write in me than I thought. I hope you enjoy your gift. I’m so sorry to not be able to add more D&D elements but since I don’t play I don’t have a lot of idea of what could be done. Also I apologise for any mistakes! And thanks so much to @little-inkstone for her help and D&D knowledge.

The castle was quiet when she entered, her steps echoing against the stone. It was gloomy inside, curtains obscured and decor sparse and sombre, the castle living up to its name. But there were flowers on the table, moon lilies, her favourite flower. They bloomed only in the Eastern Mountains past the Old Wall, but she had long since suspected he grew some on one of his enchanted hothouses, with the excuse of using them for potions.

“Where’s the rest of your pretty little troop of do-gooders, dearie?”

The voice came out of nowhere, echoing around the empty halls of the castle. Thankfully she did not need directions, knowing exactly when to turn and where to go. Soon she found herself in a vast room, with a table on the centre and curios filled with oddities and the like. Some others were displayed on pedestals, including a rather fearsome sword and a nasty-looking crown made of thorns. None of the artefacts were what she sought, but she was not there to bargain for an item, but rather for information.

“Off on their own quests, taking care of other things that need doing.”

The voice tsked, seeming not to approve.

“They let you enter the lair of the beast alone? Some heroes.”

The woman lowered the hood of her cloak and walked towards the unlit chimney. Immediately a fire blazed to life, as if the castle itself was trying to cater to her comfort. The fire provided much-needed light as well, revealing the profile of a man in the shadows. Or something that looked like a man, at least, if not for the reflective scales that covered his body and its strange eyes: gold irises around catlike pupils.

“I asked to come alone. I felt like we could talk more openly this way.”

She removed her cloak, ostensibly to drape it across a chair near the fire and let it dry. The creature, however, seemed to read more into the gesture, tsking again.

“You come here all alone, a pretty little lamb, and take off the only real bit of protection you have. Reckless, dearie, most reckless.”

The creature stood up, walking slowly towards the light, revealing more of its form as it approached her. Leather pants and a long, reptilian-looking vest and coat. It wasn’t particularly tall but power emanated from it in suffocating waves. She closed her eyes, finding his cloying presence strangely comforting. Then again, she had always been odd.

“Once again your pitiful little party of friends needs my help. How they weigh you down, Beauty.”

He stepped fully into the light then, revealing a being more creature than man, the reptilian skin and claws as off-putting as his unnatural eyes. She should’ve taken a step back, should’ve gone for her blade or the dagger tucked into her left boot, but she didn’t. As much as she knew she shouldn't, she felt at ease in his presence. Well, perhaps not quite. She certainly felt a strange sort of anxiousness in his presence, a fluttery sort of feeling that she attributed to being particularly attuned to his magic. None of the other members of her party felt that way. If anything, he repulsed them, which wasn’t something she could understand. To her he was… magnetic.

“Are you in the mood for dealing or not? I can trade for information.”

He snorted.

“With what? Your little band of misfits is dirt poor. That idiotic paladin of yours ruined your last mission. You really should think about ditching the man. All brawn, no brains. At least your rogue is a smart woman.”

His gaze left her briefly, running down the length of her clothing: sturdy black boots, a nicely-cut dress that stopped around the knees and a sturdy belt with a few pockets for her spells. But the clothing, as well-made as it was, was dated, old. Looked worn and was signed and stained in places, and it left a lot of her frail human skin exposed. She had not been able to afford an upgrade in a while, preferring to spend her coin in what could benefit the group.

His moue of distaste disappeared once his eyes fell on her cloak. Well, his cloak, since he had been the one to make it. It was a lovely thing in varied shades of green, shot through with golden thread, his trademark. She had bought it off him a long time ago, a simple thing to keep her warm during cold nights and dry when it rained. Miraculously, though, it also did not sustain damage, looking exactly the same as when she had first put it on.

“I’m glad at least my protection is serving you well.”

He ran a claw along the seams of the cloak, making it glitter, like to like, magic calling for its own. He looked smug, as if pleased she was wearing something he had made.

“It does more than we bargained for. I’ve been blasted with magic strong enough to burn through most fabric but it has not even frayed. How strange of you, Rumplestiltskin, to lose out on a deal.”

He shivered when she said his name, walking behind her to the safety of the shadow she cast next to the fire.

“Can’t help it if my magic is just that powerful, my dear. I’m glad you are a happy customer. Always thought that cloak was a nice bit of magic. Can’t fault you for always wearing it.”

She felt him close in on her from behind, to the point that it almost felt like they were touching.

“It smells like you. That’s why I wear it all the time.”

The noise he made behind her was inhuman, a cross between a whimper and a growl. His claws scrapped against the back of her dress, the feeling muted by her stays, but she could feel his breath against the back of her neck and that alone was-

“Hey, this is a decent stream! Keep it PG for the kids, you weirdos.”

“Damn it, Grumpy, I wanted to see how long it would take them to snap out of it!”

“Sorry, Snow, but I ate a big dinner and I aim to keep it down.”

The messages in the chatroom wheezed by, mostly disgruntled complaints about their OTP never catching a break. The other participants in the stream were mostly silent, their mics muted likely to hide the amused snickers. There was no video feed on any of the members of the party, all of them represented instead by artwork to preserve their anonymity. Once upon a time that had been a fanciful choice, and perhaps a way to stay safe when interacting with strangers on the internet. Now it was mostly to keep their private lives from being overtaken by the popularity of their stream. “Tales of the Enchanted Forest” was shaping up to be one of the hottest D&D online streaming shows, already on its third campaign and counting.

“Beauty is just trying to get us some answers, Grumpy. We can’t just go stumbling about hoping to run into some fairy wand by chance.”

“Oh, it’s that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Enough! Can we get back to the campaign already? It took me weeks to plan and it kinda hinges a bit on the Dark One helping, which needs to happen today.”

“Fine by me, dearie, if the dwarf can curtail his temper.”

The party was composed of five characters, a paladin, a cleric, a bard, a rogue and a thief, which along with the Dungeon Master made up the regular cast of every weekly stream. But given the popularity of the show, and the amount of time they had been playing, they had managed to amass a good amount of side-characters, guests invited every now and then to help the campaign move along and keep the interest of the audience. And by far the most popular of those guests was the Dark One, a wizard of unknown lineage and tremendous power that served both as an antagonist and a pseudo-ally depending on the situation.

His presence was likely the reason why the livestream’s numbers looked so robust. He had amassed quite a fanbase, due in part to the commitment the player put on the character (the voice-acting was above and beyond what anyone could’ve expected from an amateur performer, and the backstory was quite complex, revealed in bits and pieces fans had meticulously assembled together) and in part to the chemistry he had managed to develop with the group’s bard, a half-human named Beauty.

“Okay, let’s all go back to what we were doing.” The DM’s voice was authoritative, though also more than a bit pissed off. “Okay, Beauty, you were about to try and cajole the Dark One to sell you the information you needed in return for a vial of water from Lake Nostos. Though the water is valuable, it’s not guaranteed to be enough to tempt the wizard. You have to roll at least a 13 in persuasion to make the trade. Roll when you’re ready.”

...

Rumford Gold stretched within the confines of the small backroom of his shop, where he had his computer stuff set up. Initially he’d bought the computer to better conduct his online business. His laptop at home wasn’t cutting it and it was better to photograph the antiques, update the website and handle the deliveries from his place of business. He had bought a good camera, some light fixtures and, on a whim, a microphone, for instances where he might need to virtually communicate with clients. It was something that was happening more and more, especially because a lot of his clientele was European. The internet had truly turned his antiquing- more of a hobby than a profession originally- into a profitable business.

He had gotten into watching D&D while waiting late at night for a client to become available in Austria. He had played as a lad, one of the few happy moments he could remember from his childhood in Glasgow, but had given it up once he had met Milah. And after they were over he had been too involved in making something of himself to remember past childhood enjoyments. But apparently D&D had evolved with the times and he had gotten into the habit of searching for and watching online D&D campaigns in his spare time. From that to actually being a side-character in one of them took almost no time. It was frightfully easy to go back to that frame of mind of playing make-believe, only now he had a distaste for the clean-cut heroic types and more of an affinity for the morally-grey, shady characters.

So he had auditioned for the role of evil-wizard when there had been an opening for a side-character in his favourite D&D stream, The Enchanted Forest. And though the DM had written what he considered to be a very flat, uninteresting character, he had been able to give it his own spin. He knew the DM hated him for it, hated when he deviated from what was expected of him, but people loved him. It was half the fun, pissing the DM off.

The other half, he had to admit, was Beauty. The one with the brains in the group, clearly, a half-human, half-fairy bard with an uncanny ability to think ahead, and arm herself with knowledge. Most of the other members of her party were more apt to try and decapitate something than negotiate with it, or even befriend it. Beauty prided herself on more of a gentle approach, which sometimes got her treated as the “fragile” one. He thought it just made her all the more interesting.

Their flirting had just kinda happened. He was half into it before he realised it had begun at all and by the time he had grown conscious- and self-conscious- of it fans were lapping it up and loving it. Even the DM, as loath as he was to admit it, found the banter engaging, even as if stole the spotlight from his story and where he wanted it to go. So every now and then he got invited into a stream, sometimes to interact with the whole party and sometimes, like the session he had just finished, to speak only to Beauty. And what was supposed to be a brief conversation before the party moved to greener pastures became a whole session, with the chatroom full of engagement and the view count off the charts.

But the DM had had a short tolerance span tonight, and had nipped things in the bud much sooner than usual. He felt… unfulfilled. Unsatisfied. Itchy, almost, in a way. So he was more than happy when he received an email from Beauty, who seemed to share his dislike of how the session had played out. They had started doing that more often, sharing emails after a session, even when he did not participate in it. It was harmless, he thought. Just an innocent online flirtation that could never realistically turn into anything. Not that his more in-person romantic overtures could ever pan out. He was in his third year of being completely smitten by the local town librarian, and in his second year of being able to put two words together in front of her without the help from Scotch, something he was perhaps a bit too proud of. And though he had decided very early on that the whole thing was utterly hopeless he had not been able to steer his thoughts or affections away. Realistically he was perhaps more in love with the idea of Belle French than the reality itself, given how little he had personally interacted with the woman. But he knew just enough to fill in the blanks and create a beautiful picture of how he imagined her to be: bookish- an easy assumption given how many times he had caught her in public places absorbed in a book-, kind, generous and delightfully able to hold a grudge and enact revenge when the time came. A bit reckless, and sometimes quick to form opinions, but also quick to revise them. A tactile person, with a great sense of fashion and a carelessness about what was expected of her.

He saw her in his head as clear as day, but little of that image was based on any personal knowledge of her. So, perhaps, he had found in Beauty a fictional substitute, someone he could talk to, and flirt with, without consequences, adopting the persona of someone more confident, more at ease with that sort of thing. The Dark One was comfortable in his skin in a way that he could only pretend to be sometimes. All the money and power he had accumulated over the years had helped him evolve from the spineless, cowardly lad he had once been, but when it came to certain situations, especially those that necessitated a level of vulnerability, he was still hopeless.

Perhaps, he wondered, it was better to think about his online liaison with Beauty as the real thing. They wrote to each other often, in and out of character, and over the course of their correspondence he had confided in her more than he had in any other person alive. Small things at first, every day peeves and details. Nothing that could identify them, certainly, but surprisingly intimate nevertheless. And over time it had grown to stuttering confessions and barings of the soul on both sides. She had told him of her teenage years in a mental asylum, the product of an overwrought widowed father trying to do right by his grieving daughter. He had had a few choice words to say about that, uncharitable thoughts about her father prompting his own willing sharing of the sad story of his childhood, neglectful father and all. It had felt nice, to confide in someone, someone he trusted.

He glanced at her email, where she lamented how their scene had not been as long or as satisfying as she had wanted, and saw she was proposing to meet later in a private stream to finish it the way they had both wanted. She had proposed something similar once or twice before and he had politely declined but now he wondered why not take her up on her offer. What was stopping him? His imaginary idea of Belle French, who in reality had never given him more than a polite smile in passing? Too young, too good, too beautiful to ever see him as anything other than an old cripple? Whatever he had built with Beauty felt infinitely more real, and attainable. A relationship without ever meeting in person seemed ideal in many aspects and, perhaps, if and when it came to meeting in the real world, his physical shortcomings would not be relevant, nor would it his rather uncharitable reputation.

He sent her a quick reply to arrange a meeting, feeling like a bit of roleplaying was, in the end, quite harmless. And if it were to lead to something a bit more meaningful, well, perhaps it was about time.

…

“Water from Lake Nostos. A key ingredient in most powerful potions and even some spells. I’m sure it could prove useful to you.”

The bard showed him the glowing crystal vial hanging from a long chain around her neck, with the glowing milky-white water from the cursed lake in it. He made a move to get closer to inspect it but the woman took a step back, tucking the vial back inside her bodice. The wizard’s eyes lingered there, hiz gaze growing intense. The bard felt her skin flush in response, something that felt a bit like fear but wasn’t running down her spine.

“And I’m sure a new wardrobe could prove useful to you, dearie. You’re practically wearing rags.” Rumplestiltskin made a show of running his eyes up and down her form with just enough disgust in his face to make it seem as if he was only noticing the rather sad state of her dress.

“It’s my best gown, I’d thank you not to insult it.”

He made a moue of disapproval, shaking his head for good measure.

“You’re far from your days as a princess. I hope seeing the world is worth putting up with your band of idiots that waste most of the gold they earn with your wit in pointless goose chases that you know will lead nowhere.”

Beauty didn’t respond. There was nothing she could say to contradict what he thought of her party, none of which was charitable to say the least. And she also knew that he was aware that all of it was worth the freedom she had won when she had left her life in her father’s castle behind. She did miss one or two things, perhaps. Her mother’s vast library being one and, perhaps, some of the fashions. Not so much the silhouettes- she had never liked how the sea of petticoats she was always forced to wear restricted her movement- but the fabrics and colours, certainly. And the shoes.

“I’m here to make a deal, Dark One. Are you doing business today or not?”

Lesser creatures would’ve rather bitten off their tongues that throw cheek at the Dark One, but Beauty did not even bat an eye, lips curling in a defiant little smile that had the wizard smirking, something like admiration blooming in his chest. It’s what he loved most about his little bard, her spine of steel. And perhaps her blue eyes, but that was neither here nor there.

“I don’t do business with raggedy urchins, dearie. If you want to sit down and negotiate you’ll need a bath.” He made a face, as if he could smell her across the room. “And a change of dress, while I put your current outfit to wash… Or set it on fire, I haven’t decided yet.”

She could tell that he was pulling his punches, that he was playing at being repulsed by her state of dress and hygiene just bad enough that she would see he did not really mean it, not in any real way. She would’ve been able to tell either way, but it was nice that he thought it important to spare her feelings. And she couldn’t deny that a bath sounded heavenly after so many weeks on the road, sleeping out in the open and washing in freezing-cold creeks whenever possible.

“Well, if you insist…”

He took her to a well-lit and spacious bathing chamber, with the biggest copper tub she had ever seen, already filled with warm, soapy water that smelled of vanilla. She wasted no time after the door closed behind him, stripping quickly, careless of her worn and mended garments, and slipping into the tub. It was heaven on her tired muscles, and her dirty skin, and though she would’ve stayed there for hours she knew that every minute spent bathing was a minute less with the Dark One. Their time was limited. If she didn’t return to camp in the morning her party would venture into the castle, likely thinking the most dreadful scenarios. She could picture Charming attempting to kick the front gate open and getting hurt for his troubles. She could not let them worry for her, or risk the rapport she had developed with the Dark One by coming in unannounced.

She got out of the tub with only a bit of reluctance and found a towel that she was convinced was enchanted to dry her faster than possible. She found clothing laid out in the adjoining dressing room, the undergarments soft and made of pale cream fabric and the dress of a lovely velvety, forest-green fabric, with a belt embroidered in small pearls that matched the detail about the neckline. She put it on gladly, twisting every which way to lace it up at her back. Living a less princessy life had made her acquire a number of small skills, including the ability to dress up mostly by herself even in gowns that did not lace up at the front, like most of her travelling clothes.

She did not spot her mauve travelling dress or her boots, but she was sure that Rumplestiltskin had whisked them away and would subtly mend them with magic, though she was sure he would deny it if she were to point it out. The green dress was accompanied by matching slippers, butter-soft and silent as they touched the stone floor. She made sure to dry her hair out, noticing how it shone red-gold in the flattering light of the candles, and took her time brushing it and styling it out of her face, so it fell flatteringly down her back. Her neck and most of her upper torso was bare but for the chain keeping the vial of water tucked safely against her breasts, the wide neckline of the dress dipping low enough to leave her collarbones bare, but she didn’t mind it. She was inside the Dark Castle, with the Dark One. She was safe there. On the road she always had to think about not attracting unwanted male attention. Here she rather felt like the opposite.

It was a silly infatuation, and many would argue any interest or desire on her part was due to the wizard’s power, which some would say was an aphrodisiac potent enough to make some look past the Dark One’s rather unfortunate exterior. No one would ever believe her if she confessed she rather… liked his appearance. The green-gold skin, the wild hair, the talons, but also the exquisitely-tailored pants and vests, the frothy cravats, the slim coats. A beast and a gentleman. A rather enticing combination, she had found.

She went downstairs into the trophy room once more, where two massive chairs were pulled up next to the roaring fireplace, the main source of light. The Dark One was sitting in one of them, a snifter gingerly held by a clawed hand, containing some sort of brown-gold liquid. He glanced at her the moment she entered the room, unwilling or unable to hide his appreciation for what he saw. He had removed his coat, leaving only his high-collared vest and one of his open shirts to cover his upper body, no forty cravat in sight. He seemed less guarded, more adventurous than he usually was when it came to matters of intimacy.

“You clean up well, dearie. Wish I could say the same for your dress. A wash will only do so much for it, but I refrained from throwing it into the fireplace. You’re welcome.”

“Good, as it’s not your property to destroy.” Beauty sat down, with a poise that betrayed her royal upbringing, and primly crossed her legs at the ankles. “So, Dark One, are you prepared to deal with me now?”

She had dealt with him dozens of times before, she had no idea why it all sounded so much like innuendo now. She couldn’t say she minded it.

“Of course, my dear. I’ve had time to think about our deal whilst you were splashing about in the tub.” His sing-songy voice broke, getting suddenly deeper for a second or two, as if he was struggling to retain his composure. “The vial is certainly a good start, but perhaps not quite enough. Now, I’m prepared to be generous given our long and fruitful history of dealmaking together, but I must also keep up certain appearances. So I thought I would also demand… an evening of your time.”

He tried to make it sound sinister, but she was past getting scared of him. At least in the traditional way. She raised an eyebrow, adopting a rather coquettish expression.

“And what would an evening of my time entail exactly?”

“Oh, well, you know. Companionship, perhaps a game of chess, some good wine, conversation and the like.”

She made a show of thinking it over before offering her hand, which he shook without delay.

“It’s a deal.”

Several hours later she had won two games of chess, one game of checkers, and was sipping from her third coupe of sparkling wine as she listened intently to a story about a deal the Dark One had once made with a king from a distant land. He was a gifted storyteller, engaging and funny, knowing exactly when to pause or gesticulate to keep the flow of the story just right. The king in his tale was rather unfortunate, in the sense that his hubris and arrogance had led him to make a deal with the Dark One that he did not understand. Most of Rumplestiltskin’s deals seemed to be like that, Beauty thought. And when he came to collect people dared be indignant that he demanded what they promised in the first place.

“The king was furious. Never let go of the grudge. Hired several assassins to try and kill me. A waste of gold, of course.”

He let out a trilling laugh, which soon proved to be contagious. Somehow, over time, it felt like their chairs had moved closer, because if she stretched out a hand she could easily touch him. Odd.

“Serves him right, for making such an open-ended deal. What a rookie mistake.”

She didn’t recall removing her slippers but she must have, because her feet were enjoying being pressed against the soft cushion of the chair. He made a gesture for her to lean close, which was a bit of a balancing feat, but she managed. Her heart skipped a bit when he leaned close too, almost pressing his mouth against her ear.

“You have no room to talk, sweet. You struck a very vague deal yourself, committing to an evening of conversation, chess ‘and the like’. That little turn of phrase is an invitation to all manner of sins, even the darkest and most decadent of debaucheries.”

He hissed the last part, making her shiver. Not content with letting him have the upper hand she turned her head so their lips were inches apart.

“That’s what I was hoping for.”

She could tell she had shocked him into inaction. Cocky Dark One, always in control of the conversation, always one step ahead of everyone else. It was nice to see him floundering, to catch him unprepared. Finally he gulped and put a little distance between them.

“Aren’t you the bravest little poppet.”

“My mother always said ‘Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.’ I’m a firm believer of the principle.”

Slowly, almost painfully so, both his hands clutched at the armrests of her chair, effectively pinning her to it. She knew she was supposed to be scared but she felt nothing but excitement, a buzzing just beneath the skin that made her strangely needy for something. Touch, perhaps, or more. The feeling was so overwhelming she did not realise at first that the laces of her dress were coming undone, as if invisible hands were painstakingly pulling them loose. She tried to make eye contact, but he ducked his head, pressing his face against the base of her neck, where it met her shoulder. She sighed, noticing how gentle he was, his touch feather-light, and discovering that she would not mind a rougher treatment. He was restraining himself, she realised, trying to be a gentleman. Sweet, but not what she wanted from him at that moment. Feeling bold Beauty carded a hand through his hair, pressing his face more firmly against her skin.

“Please, Rumple.”

Those two words seemed to have a magic of their own, producing a sudden and radical change in him. He moved too fast for her to see, wrapping her up in his arms and depositing her on the long dining table on the other side of the room. She did not know whether he used magic or simply moved inhumanly fast, but either possibility excited her, reminded her of the power of the creature looming over her, claws tugging at the unlaced bodice of her dress, dragging the velvet down to expose her undergarments. She was wearing the underbust corset he had provided over the snowy linen shift he had also left for her, so it was easy for him to simply tug the shift down a bit to expose her breasts. He leaned forward, nuzzling the space between her breasts, making a sort of satisfied purring noise as he sniffed up her clavicles and down her throat. Then, once he was happy with the level of squirming she was doing, he finally gave her what she wanted, closing his mouth, with all of its sharp teeth, around one of her rosy nipples. It was a strange feeling at first, more unfamiliar than pleasant, but when he began to suck it changed completely, little shocks of pleasure running from her nipple to between her legs. It was amazing, more than she had ever achieved with her own hands whenever she could get some privacy at night, and the feeling doubled when he grasped her untouched breast, his long claws estimulating the other nipple.

She sunk both her hands in his hair, fisting it in an effort to keep herself from squirming too much, feeling both aroused and impatient. She kept waiting for him to tire of her chest and move further down but when he was finally done sucking her nipples his head moved north, his lips blinding searching for hers till they were kissing. It wasn’t anything like any kiss she had experienced before, not even the unpleasant smack her former fiance had forced on her. Though it was just as forceful there was a wild quality to it, one she had never associated with the affectionate gesture. It was heavenly, the release of passion, far from cooling her down, setting her on fire, stoking her need for him till it felt like she would explode if he didn’t give her relief.

He must have sensed it, her desperation calling to him like a siren song, because at some point he let go of her mouth to travel south, past her aching chest, and velvet-covered belly to where the skirts of her long gown kept her modestly covered. He wasted no time dragging the heavy fabric up, letting it pool around her hips along with the white linen of her shift. She did not have any other undergarments, having not been provided with any, so she was completely exposed to his gaze, from her milky things to her round hips. She squirmed, trying to picture what he must be looking at, the trim thatch of chestnut curls at the apex of her legs, obscenely drenched by this point and making a poor show of trying to hide the pink, glistening flesh beneath.

“What a lovely cunt you have.” His voice was dark, guttural, a monster trying to speak like a man. It thrilled her. “Let me drink from it, precious.”

He didn’t wait for her reply, choosing instead to simply bury his head against her flesh, his tongue rough and wide as it lapped at her field parting them to seek out the bundle of nerves that was throwing for attention. She arched her back, feeling like it was only her firm grip on her thigh and hip what kept her anchored to the table. She fell into a rhythm of sorts, her body seeking out something she could not find but his mouth striving to compensate, to give her what she needed. It was heavenly and seemed to last an eternity, the sensations building up till everything but them faded away, all sensations muted. She felt him move to, thrusting his hips against the edge of the table, making it rattle in a way that spoke of his sheer brute force. It was heady to have someone like Rumplestiltskin, who had always strived to don the mask of a gentleman around her, be so unhinged, so animalistic. More than anything it was that complete loss of control what drove her over the edge. She cried out, feeling her inner muscles coil and her senses spiral out of control, her orgasm leaving her dizzy. It seemed to last forever and not nearly long enough. She laid there for a while after the feeling passed, feeling satisfied and wanting at the same time. A few seconds later he also keened, slumping against her still-parted legs, his hair tickling the soft skin of her inner thighs.

They lay that way for what seemed like ages, while they scrambled to try and collect themselves. The afterglow did not feel awkward or uncomfortable, and it loosened up her tongue enough to venture out that she had hoped for an even more intimate act, a joining that was even deeper than what they had done.

“A deal for such a prize would have to involve all my deepest secrets, my most valuable truths.” He paused, pressing his forehead against the silky inside of her thigh, like a penitent would. “One day, perhaps.”

...

“Do you want to meet? I think it’s time.”

The orgasm had mellowed him out, otherwise he was sure he would’ve at least panicked a little bit. But in the afterglow of what they had just shared, albeit virtually, a meeting did not seem like such a bad idea. In hushed voices they arranged the time and place, tomorrow at a café and bistro in Boston. Nice and public, for both their safety. They knew both lived near Boston, so it seemed natural to pick the city. The drive wasn’t too bad, and he hoped it wasn’t a great inconvenience to her either.

Reluctantly they said their goodbyes, both trying to prolong the moment a bit more till they were both close to nodding off. With a final, reluctant goodbye they both disconnected, leaving Gold to clean himself up and make his way home. With his rumpled suit, disheveled hair and five o’clock shadow it must have looked like the walk of shame. It certainly didn’t feel that way.

...

He woke up in a happy mood, perhaps the best in a long time. Far from feeling stupid or embarrassed about his little bit of roleplaying-turned-porn-session he felt smug, empowered by the notion that he had made a smart, desirable woman come with only his voice and imagination. He felt like he was on the brink of something, as if an exciting possibility was opening up for him.

He went about his day with a bit of a spring in his step, though most citizens of Storybrooke would be pressed to notice. It was only when he saw the book on gardening he was due to return to the library that afternoon- his two Moth orchids had developed small water-soaked spots on the leaves and he had wanted to consult some verified sources instead of relying exclusively on Google search results- that his mood dampened somewhat. As nice as last night had been- bloody fantastic rather- it did make him sad, somewhat, to give up his crush on Belle French. However unattainable it was still nice to have it, that bit of feeling that did not need to be reciprocated to be real. It had been nice to feel something for someone for a change, to look forward to each smile and each small conversation. But it wouldn’t be right, and what he had now was more valuable in any case. Perhaps, with time, he would grow out of his infatuation with the librarian and they could be friends. That would be rather lovely.

He crossed the street towards the library around three o’clock, wanting to beat the rush caused by children being let off school, a busy time for one of the only kid-friendly places in Storybrooke. There were some patrons about, and the afternoon light made the library look truly beautiful. Miss French truly worked miracles with her limited budget.

He found her easily, shelving a few books in the poetry section, and tried not to preen when she smiled widely at him.

“Mr Gold, hi! Always a pleasure. Here to return a book?”

The librarian was always sunny and welcoming, but she looked even happier that day, an excited sort of energy practically rolling off of her in waves. Thank goodness he had decided to give up on his silly little crush, otherwise he might have buckled under the power of her brightness.

“Yes. And you look particularly happy today, Miss French, if I might say so.”

The librarian smiled even more, if possible, and leaned close, as if to tell him a secret.

“I have a date tonight.”

It hurt, the slightest bit, the shock making him take a step back, but less than it would have yesterday. And perhaps, he reasoned, this would be good. This would put them both in the path of becoming friends, allowing him to leave his crush behind much faster. He forced himself to enquire politely after the lucky man, listening as she talked about someone she had been flirting with for a long time now, and it seemed like the relationship was finally ready for the next step.

“I’m really happy. And very nervous. It feels like such a risk, after all this time building something that could easily fizzle out with a first date. But I’ve always believed in doing the brave thing, and bravery will follow. It’s what my mother always said.”

She had turned back to shelve a book as she finished the last sentence, so thankfully she did not see his jaw drop and his eyes widen, his surprise so visible no one could’ve missed it. His heart lurched in his chest, sheer and sudden panic making it difficult to breathe. Fuck. Fuck. It wasn’t possible. Belle was Beauty. Belle was Beauty. He tried to contradict the notion in his head but he had known Beauty’s British accent was passable but fake, and it made sense for him not to have identified her voice when she usually spoke with her natural Australian drawl, something he associated so closely with her. Everything else he had ever found out about Beauty, in and out of the D&D setting, coincided with what he knew, or thought he knew, about the librarian, one of the reasons why he had developed a crush on her in the first place.

The initial shock was followed by a spike of elation and then a sinking feeling of dread. He needed to cancel. She would be disappointed, but more disappointed if he didn’t and she realised her crush was a man a good deal older than her that was known for being the town monster. It would be awkward and she would not be able to escape him after it, both doomed to meet each other often, given the small size of the town. He could not put her through that.

He stopped himself then, noticing the familiar dark turn of his thoughts, dipped in so much self-loathing it was almost stifling. And he wondered if he really was thinking about Belle or about himself. Being a coward, taking the easy way out. He thought about how he had woken up, the world full of promise and the future bright with the possibility of something great on the horizon. And how he had felt brave last night, to leap into something that had been so worth it. Perhaps it was time to be brave more often. Do something, however small. Put the ball in her court, somehow.

“I wish you the best of luck, then. Perhaps some other time, if you’re not too busy, you could pop into my shop. I have a few antique books I feel you would appreciate.”

It was a nice recovery, and he was happy to see her smile, apparently welcoming the proposition. Everyone knew Mr Gold’s shop was only to be entered when making deals. He didn’t really allow idle perusal of his stock and no one had the money or interest to buy his antiques. His business was conducted mostly with people from major cities on the East Coast.

“Wow, an open invitation to traipse into Mr Gold’s shop, that’s not something one sees everyday. What do you want in return? I hear only deals can grant you access to the shop.”

She made sure to make it clear she was joking, something he appreciated. Feeling emboldened by her kind gesture he adopted a slightly higher pitch and replied:

“Oh, nothing much. Companionship, perhaps a game of chess, some good wine, conversation and the like.”

Being close enough he got to see as it dawned on her, as her brain quickly processed what he had said and where she had heard it before. And he knew, knew because of the way she looked at him, as if she did not recognise him, as if he was a brand new person to her, that she understood the implication, what he had meant to tell her without actually telling her.

“Hope to see you soon, then. Good luck with the date.”

He turned around before he could second-guess himself, feeling terrified by what he had exposed but satisfied at the same time. This way it was Belle’s choice to show up. For all she knew he had no idea that she was Beauty. She could make up an excuse and simply not meet her, and their worlds would never merge. If she did not want to pursue anything between them all she had to do is cancel the date, or not show up. He would respect her decision and never push for anything, or acknowledge their online relationship in the real world.

He sent her an email just as he was about to get into his car, letting her know that he understood that this meeting was a bit of a risk and he would understand if she backed out at the last minute. There were other things he could do in Boston, and he was not adverse to having dinner by himself. And they could still be friends, no matter what she decided. He was halfway to Boston when he heard his cell phone ping, letting him know he had a new email. As he expected, it was from Beauty:

“I’m on my way. Can’t wait to meet you! See you soon.”

He smiled.

#argoslight #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #Roll for Initiative #Thestraggletag fanfiction #Rumbelle Gift Swap

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nobodyfamousposts · 4 years

Text

Dolls AU: Fort Plushiness

They were getting confused.

It was a few months after Mama and Papa discovered each other as well as both of the Dolls, and there have been many changes that had been made since.

One of the changes was that the two had taken to sharing time with Littlebug and Chaton. Which was a nice change and made them very happy. Now Littlebug got to spend time with Mama! And Chaton got to spend time with Papa! And Littlebug and Chaton got to spend more time with each other without having to sneak away and worry about getting caught!

Chaton got to show Littlebug Mama's home with all the neat-looking and nice-feeling clothes. Littlebug in turn got to show Chaton Papa’s room room with all its stuff and the shiny stair railings and poles that they could slide down.

All in all, it was a change that they rather liked.

The other change was more confusing, though. Since Papa’s Day, Papa had seemed insistent on presenting them with things.

A lot of things.

More things than they knew what to do with, really.

It seemed that every day, they were finding something new that he had gotten for them. Littlebug and Chaton weren't really sure what to do with the things. Some of them looked like toys they recognized. Littlebug particularly liked the blocks. Chaton preferred the fluffy cloth bear that was as big as he was and perfectly hug-sized and comfy to nap with. The rest…they didn’t quite know what to do with or why they were there.

Except Papa seemed intent on watching them with each item, even writing things down in a notebook. He seemed to be hoping for...something? They didn't know what.

But it made him happy when they presented him the latest item they discovered. Handing any item to him made him smile and coo and he would play with them using the object. Which was nice! And they liked it a lot.

Not the item, but the way it seemed to make him happy.

They liked Papa when he was happy the best.

So maybe the things were tokens to let Papa know they wanted to play? It made the most sense. Though it kind of saddened them both at the idea of giving up certain ones they were attached to in order to play with Papa. Or that they’d eventually run out of things to give for Papa’s time. Would Papa start ignoring them then?

Littlebug didn’t believe so, since she and Papa spent plenty of time together before. But things were different now. Chaton was with them too, now. And they were going back and forth with Mama who still lived in her home. Plus having both the Pink One and Dark One around as well. There had been many new changes that had made them happy.

Was this a not-happy new change? Was it only temporary?

Fortunately, Marinette seemed to catch on to their confusion.

“Adrien, you need to stop.” She finally told him one day.

He looked to her in surprise from his computer and the next large group of toys and games he was intending to buy. “But Marinette! I’m their ‘DAD’ now. I have to show them I love them!”

She frowned. Not out of annoyance—she couldn’t be annoyed with him caring for the dolls and wanting to shower them with love. But this was getting to be a problem and part of her hesitated to be the one to tell him that. “I get that, but I’m sure there are ways of letting them know you care without buying out an entire toy store.”

He pouted. “I didn’t buy out an entire toy store.”

She glance back briefly at the boxes of toys already lining up the room. She then raised an eyebrow at him.

He looked away. “I only bought one of everything because I didn’t know what they’d like.”

“And buying everything would solve that?” She asked incredulously.

“This way I could see what they prefer or not!” He exclaimed as he tried to justify the excessiveness.

“You could just ask them.” She pointed out. “Or show them a catalogue and let them pick what they would like.”

Seeing how sad he appeared, she rested a hand on his shoulder. “We need to keep things in moderation. It’s going to be hard to hide the fact we have them if we’re going to these extremes.”

And even if they didn’t, the last thing she wanted was to spoil the dolls with gifts to the point they became selfish and entitled. The last thing she wanted was to result in either of the dolls turning out like Chloe.

“But this way I can keep track of what all they play with!” He argued. “And they like everything I’ve gotten for them!”

She sighed. “Okay, Adrien? Is it that they like the gifts themselves or that they like that they’re from you?”

He blinked.

“What?”

She laughed. “Adrien, I’d bet that you could give them a pair of your socks and they’d be happy.”

“No way!”

It was fortunate that Adrien did not take that bet.

Yay! Fun thing! Soft thing! Stretchy!

He soon discovered that yes, the dolls would very much be happy if he gifted them socks. As evidenced by the way Littlebug and Chaton began to pull one of the socks between them like a game of tug of war. Adrien had worried they were fighting for a moment until both began to twist and were soon wrapped up in the sock together, their little legs kicking out from beneath the wrapping as they had fun in their silliness.

“Cute.”

It was also soon realized, to Adrien’s embarrassment, that while he had been taking note of specifically how the two have been interacting with the toys, he hadn’t quite taken note of what else they took interest in besides those toys.

It turned out that while Adrien had written that the two had played with some action figures in a princess castle, he failed to notice that the two had taken more interest in some of the bigger boxes that the toys had come in. It was only after Marinette came for a visit that they discovered the “fort” made of three boxes of various sizes interconnected together.

Said “fort” was apparently run by Commander Spotty and loyal knight Sir Sharp Claws. Which were really just Littlebug wearing a toy flag as a cape and Chaton wearing Adrien’s gifted sock as a hat. But they seemed to enjoy playing as knights in service of King Sleeps and Queen Pinky.

“What?” Plagg demanded as he looked up from his cushioned throne at the intruder.

Adrien raised an eyebrow.

“….they’re your kids. Don’t judge me.” He groused before rolling back over.

Queen Pinky looked up from her “throne” on top of a pillow carried by four unicorn toys. For her part, she seemed to have taken her role seriously, as she was wearing a velvet cloth that looked to be from a fancy doll dress as a cape along with a little toy crown.

Marinette gaped. “Tikki?” She couldn’t help the giggles.

“Do you bring offerings for the King and Queen?” Tikki demanded imperiously.

“Offerings?”

“If not, then you are to remove yourselves!” Tikki announced.

“Are you serious?”

Plagg shrugged. “You heard the lady.”

Sure enough, following the orders of the “Queen”, Littlebug and Chaton proceeded to push Adrien and Marinette away from the fort. The two teens were a bit too busy fighting giggles to really try to oppose them. They were left on the other side of the room recovering from their laughing fit over the pure hilarity of the whole thing.

“Okay, okay. You were right, m’lady.” Adrien admitted once his chuckling finally died down enough for him to talk properly.

Marinette was still giggling. “They’re kids. And they’re creative. They can be happy with anything, so you don’t need to go overboard, Adrien.”

He winced. “Yeah. I just…I want to though.”

She sobered at that. “Hmm?”

“I just want them to know I care.” He quietly admitted.

Oh.

Marinette leaned against him in a show of support.

“I think that simply being with them and playing with them shows that most.”

He leaned back against her, accepting the reassurance.

“Occasional gifts are fine, but they won’t have time to play with everything and really be able to tell what they like if you’re getting them too much at once.”

“I’ll try to scale it back.” He promised.

Marinette smiled in relief.

Chaton and Littlebug didn’t really know what they were whispering about. They were simply being cautious of any potential counterattack by the enemies of their King and Queen. At least until those enemies called them for dinner at Mama’s house at which point they abandoned their posts much to Tikki’s unhappiness and Plagg’s apathy.

The next day they returned to Papa’s place, he presented them with a new gift of paints, brushes, and sponges for decorating their fort.

Then he spent the rest of the afternoon helping them decorate the fort.

It only stopped when they tried to paint Plagg, too.

“No, no! None of that!” He told them, taking the supplies away before they could really get started. “I’m supposed to be Chat Noir, not Chat Rose!”

Chaton and Littlebug pouted. They just wanted to make his tail pretty. And his paws. And maybe his ears...

“No.”

Could they at least paint each other?

“No. Paints are for the fort.”

They pouted more, but then Papa pulled out glow-in-the-dark star stickers to put inside the fort and they were successfully distracted from the unfairness of not getting to see a pink-tailed Chat Noir.

All in all, things were getting better.

#ml fic #dolls au #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #littlebug #chaton noir #ladybug doll #chat noir doll #plagg #tikki #queen tikki #ml cute #ml fluff #so much fluff #ALL THE FLUFF

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starry-ash-606 · 3 years

Text

Moonlight Masquerade

Another piece for the @mysme-rbb! This one is a pinch writing for Kit! Her Instagram is lil-kitkat18. This is her gorgeous art; give her post some love!!

This fic uses Kit’s cmc, also named Kit :)

It was a quiet Saturday night. The streets are empty, and the house is still. No sound could be heard from the Kim residence. Well, except for the yelling coming from Yoosung's room.

"Quick! Go left! I'll take him on the right!"

Yoosung is gaming far too late into the night—or morning rather—for a college student. He said he was going to play games less so that he could focus on college, but old habits die hard. Once again, he is lost in the LoLoL world at 3 A.M.

“I should go check on him,” Kit thought, “He probably lost track of time again.” She went down the hall and stood next to Yoosung’s closed door. More yells of gaming directions for his team were heard, before a victorious cheer rang through the hall.

“We won! Great game guys. It was fun playing this limited time masquerade party map!” Yoosung congratulated his online friends and looked at the clock on his computer monitor, sighing. “Ugh it’s 3:05 and I have school stuff to work on tomorrow. I should probably log off. Goodnight!” He turned the computer off and set his headset on the desk, just as Kit opened the door.

Yoosung spun around on his chair, looking at the woman he loves—more than the world and all of the video games in it. “Kit! Why are you still up? How’s my honey doing?”

Kit walked over and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead while murmuring, “I was coming to check on you, silly. You’re up way too late again.” She took his hands in hers and pulled him out of the chair. “I want to make sure you’re staying healthy.”

“I’ll be alright, but I appreciate your care, my sweet little Kit Kat.” Yoosung pulled Kit into a hug, immediately relaxing into her arms.

“Did you have fun playing?”

“Yes! There was a limited time only map that had a masquerade theme, and all of the player skins had customizable party outfits. It was so cool.” Yoosung’s face lit up as he explained the game, making Kit smile. His excitement always made her heart flutter. “I had a crown with diamonds in it and a soft velvet cape! All of my loot that I got had a fancy and royal look to it too!” Yoosung continued to gush about his night of gaming, and Kit was hooked onto every word he said.

————

It was 3:27 A.M. Yoosung had finished explaining all of the details about the special LoLoL event, and now he felt rather dejected, wishing that the game could last all night.

“Yoosungie, are you okay? You look a little sad,” Kit took his hand and squeezed it gently, trying to comfort him. “Did something happen in LoLoL that upset you?”

“No no, I’m okay. I just wish that I could keep playing or something. The masquerade theme is so fun…” He trailed off, not quite sure how to explain how he felt. He looked over to Kit, smiling a little once the two made eye contact.

“Do you like masquerade parties?” Kit questioned, trying to help Yoosung figure out what he was trying to say.

“Yeah it seems like it would be really cool to go to a party of something that had a masquerade theme. It would be fun to dress up and dance.”

“You know, we don’t have to dress up and go to a fancy party to dance.” Kit stood up, holding out her hand to Yoosung. “It would be much more relaxing to dance at home with just the two of us here.”

Yoosung jumped up, his excitement returning, and he ran to his desk to get a bluetooth speaker and his phone. “We could listen to orchestra music like we would at a fancy party! And wear fancy clothes!”

Kit hugged Yoosung from behind as he searched for a song to play, placing her chin onto his shoulder. “It’s so late. I don’t really want to change out of my pajamas.” She nuzzled against his face, enjoying his warmth. “I would love to dance with you though. Shall we?”

Yoosung turned to face her and kissed her cheek with a small giggle. “I would love to honey. There’s not much space in here though. I think we should go to the living room.”

They went to the living room, holding hands as they walked. Yoosung turned the lights on, but Kit immediately turned them off.

“What are you doing Kit? It’s dark in here.”

“You’ll see,” Kit said with a smile. She opened the curtains, allowing moonlight to fill the room. She took Yoosung’s hands in hers and whispered, “Isn’t this soft moonlight better? It’s just like a fantasy world now.”

Placing her hands on Yoosung’s waist, she started to sway side to side. Yoosung followed her lead, and the two of them got lost in the music.

Back and forth across the room, the pair slowly waltzed, holding onto each other like they were the only two parts of the world that were real. Everything about the day that was on their minds was gone; their new fantasy of a grand party was the only thing that mattered.

“This feels like a dream,” Yoosung murmured, holding onto Kit a little tighter. “I know we’re at home in pajamas, but I can see us in the middle of a grand ballroom.”

“It really does.” Kit hummed softly with the music, leaning against Yoosung’s chest as they danced. “I love you.”

Kit looked up at Yoosung, happiness filling her heart. Her face held pure adoration as she watched her boyfriend smile softly as he danced.

Yoosung kissed the top of her head, feeling overjoyed that he gets to be in Kit’s arms. “I love you too, Kit. Thank you for tonight, it was wonderful.”

#mysmerbb #mysme #mystic messenger yoosung #yoosung x cmc #lolol #yoosung #masquerade

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radramblog · 3 years

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gAmEr MoUsE

Today I purchased my first “gaming” mouse. Truly I have become a Real Gamer ™.

I do not feel like any more of a real gamer. And that’s probably for the best?

Technically, I suppose, this is not the first piece of Gaming Hardware I’ve purchased, though the very definitely a cheap knockoff Razer stuff I picked up at Cash Converters where the mouse broke eventually probably doesn’t count. It certainly didn’t have any RGB lightups or extra buttons like what my current equipment does.

It is one of the few computer accessories I’ve bought new, though. I’m usually more frugal than that, though after having so many office mice eventually break I’ve decided I want something a bit more…quality-assured. Something that’s designed to be used by the kind of people who are a bit more like me.

The device I have purchased is a Logitech G402. My understanding is that Logitech produces pretty much the “default”, or entry-level in accessories for those getting into tricking out their PCs. Their products are reliable, not super complex, functional and ergonomic without being excessively fancy. Those in the know, however, may notice that the mouse I bought is not the one that description usually applies to, that being the G502.

This one lacks a few of the features associated with that, but I think they’re mostly arbitrary and I’ve been happy to save the money. It doesn’t have the infinite scroll, a much more tactile button on the mouse that isn’t programmable but instead significantly lowers the friction on the scroll wheel, letting it spin rather satisfyingly. It also doesn’t have the adjustable mass, though if I’m honest I’d probably just lose those little weights anyway. These are features that I’m sure people like, but they just seem so utterly unnecessary to me. It also helped that I was able to procure the thing through my brother, who’s working at a computer shop.

I’ve given my brother a lot of shit over the years, and him me. It’s a relationship that has been extremely fraught, coming to actual blows when I was a much younger and angrier person, but we’ve thankfully managed to mellow it out a lot now that we are actual adults. And he’s extremely into computer building and everything that entails. Quite literally he has built multiple PCs, including one he keeps around just for people visiting to use if they want to play some vidya with him. And most of what I have as far as #gamingPC stuff is a result of his passing things on.

The headset I wear was a birthday present from him. The keyboard I’ve typed every single one of these posts (save the ones from my laptop) on was one he didn’t need anymore, some degree of knockoff number from before his connections were as solid as they are now. Even the PC itself was one that his friends were moving beyond, and seeing as my computer at the time was a broken laptop hooked up to an office monitor he decided to give me a hand. Technically speaking, the only things hooked up to this computer that I’ve paid for is the monitor and now the mouse.

But having these things be so fancy doesn’t fulfill me in the same way that my silly collections do, despite being infinitely more practical. Maybe it’s just a lack of general interest, maybe it’s a failing on my part. Maybe it’s the very fact that having a good computer and mouse and keyboard is so useful and not so ephemeral that makes my brain not as interested, I don’t know.

But perhaps it’s telling that on the same day as I spent $57 on a mouse to solve one of my desktop problems, I quite literally picked a chair off of someone’s lawn to solve the other one.

#ramble #pc building #personal (i guess)

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zombiekillerky · 3 years

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{ROTTMNT Fanfic} - Burden

( WARNING : This is not Turtle x Turtle related at all, this is purely just some family scenarios with no relationships at all what’s so ever. Just regular day in the life turtle stuff)

[Also before you read this, I’m not very knowledgeable with ROTTMNT just yet. I just started binge watching the episodes recently so if I get any information wrong about the series I’m sorry. I hope you enjoy reading this though.]

It was around an hour before when he left the lair down below the surface. Not even bothering to tell his brother’s where he went off to before he had left. He was to much of a burden to them any way so why would they want to know where he went off to. It seemed like they were just all around annoyed with him to be fair. More then the usual annoyance of his sick puns he made through out the day to lighten the mood with his humor. Almost like he had done something wrong and didn’t even know about it. The blue masked turtle let out a sigh as he sat on top of on of the roof tops. Staring down at the light the shined in the city around him. His chin rested in the palms of his hands as he sat there in silence. Debating on what to do next in his little solo adventure by himself. The loneliness was hitting him hard, unlike Raph he could be alone for periods of time easy. But it was the fact that his brother’s didn’t want him around them, that made the feeling worse in the pit of his stomach. He just didn’t understand why, and that was his worst fear. That they didn’t want him around any more and that’s what it felt like at the moment.

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

“Hey......hey Donnie watcha doing!” Leo asked as he spun in the spare chair his brother had by his computer desk. The purple banded turtle seemed busy enough, coming up with new ideas and advancements with his past inventions. His brother groaned in annoyance as he hunched over his table yet again, ignoring his brother behind him. Continuing tinkering with his bow staff in his hand to fix the little problems he had using it last time. Leo’s brow raised as he pushed himself over using the end of the table against the wall. Pushing past his brother swiftly and glanced over his shoulder to see what he was working on at the moment.Curiosity was all he had at the moment and the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. He knew Donnie would get easily distracted by him moving so he tried to stop himself from moving any more. His plan was to get a good spot to look at his project behind him. Failing miserably as he fell back with a loud smack of the back of his shell hitting the floor along with the chair.

“Leo could you leave, you’re distracting me from my work to much. I can’t even think with you around causing all of this noise! Can’t you just go and bother someone else!” Donnie exclaimed as Leo laid there on the floor in pain as he looked at his brother looking down upon him. The small sound of a pop in his ribs filled the room as he sat up from the floor quickly. Donnie soon turned back to his bow staff as he sat there on the floor. The blue masked turtle sighed as he stood up from the ground quite quickly. Running his brother’s words through his head that pierced his heart somewhat. Leo sighed, his posture hunched over somewhat, his ego bruised by his brother’s words. the comedic turtle walked in to the front room. His head lifted up and found Mikey in the kitchen, humming a tune softly to himself as he stared at the cook book on the table. Leo smiled widely as he raced over and ducked in tot he kitchen, his younger brother seemed to be cooking a desert dish. One of the many things he liked to cook and practice in the kitchen on his days off. Leo glanced around the island in the kitchen and stood up fast.

“Hey Mikey, watcha cookin?” Leo asked as he stood up, frightening his brother somewhat as he stood there concentrating. Mikey screamed, dropping a little more then enough flour in to the mix. His brow knitted together as he glared at Leo standing there on the opposite side of him. Mikey was never one to be overly angry, but his face at the moment showed all.

“Leo could you NOT scare my in the kitchen like that bro, you made me pour a lot more flour then what I needed.....I have no clue what I’m gonna do now!” Mikey exclaimed as he glanced down in to his bowl he was using at the moment.

“I-I’m sorry Mikey.....I didn’t mean to scare you.....I’ll just go” Leo replied, his head hanging even lower then before. Now two of his brother’s hate him at the moment instead of one. What was up with him today? Why were they so easily annoyed and aggravated with him....He was getting in to his own head again like he always does. No reassurance to get him through this bad time. The turtle in blue just wanted to cry, he wanted to go to his brothers and just ask them why he was annoying them. Leo ran his hand down the back of his head and neck as he walked in to his room. Grabbing his sword placed on nails on his wall up above his bed. The comedic turtle carefully walked out of his room, his eyes darted toward the living room where his father sat. A small smile formed on his face as he walked closer. Noticing he was falling asleep in the chair in front of the TV. Leo bit his bottom lip slightly, not knowing if he should wake him up or not. The look on his father’s face meant he was falling asleep, but he wanted to tell him where he was going before heading out in to the world alone.

“dad......dad I-I’m-”

“Blue! Can’t you see I’m trying to watch my shows! Goodness you know it is on a marathon tonight. I have no time for your silly games, go bother your brothers right now.” Splinter somewhat yelled in an annoyed tone of voice as he fixed his sitting position on his chair. Having the cousins squeak loudly from the shift of weight. Leo glanced away from him, not even remembering that it was the marathon of his favorite show this afternoon. To be honest he didn’t really pay attention to him saying that earlier because of his selective hearing he had.

“Sorry dad......I’m just gonna head out” Leo replied as he walked away from him, even more depressed then ever. His whole family hated him, he didn’t even want to try with Raphael at this point. He scared him the most when he was angry because he normally isn’t at all. The blue masked turtle’s head hung low as he made his way over to the entrance of the lair. Glancing back in to it like he was waiting for one of his brothers to come and tell him not to leave. What was he thinking, they didn’t want him around at the moment anyway. Why would they stop him now?

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

The blue masked turtle rubbed his eyes slightly, forgetting to blink as he stared off in to space while he sat there in silence. He lifted his legs up from the side of the building. Dusting his back of dust as he stood up from the roof. His mind was wondering in many places, the bad overruling the good at the moment more then anything. He hasn’t even gotten a call from his brother’s back at home to ask where he was. His eyes looked down in sadness at the cars slowly driving by.

“Well what do we have here, the turtle in blue all by himself up on the roof top....what A pleasant surprise” Leo turned around quickly and found the two villains with the foot like symbol on theirs heads. Standing there behind him with what seemed to be a brief case in the taller ones hands. Leo smirked, hiding away his emotions as he grabbed his sword with a snarky grin.

“Well well well looks like we meet again then you crooks, what have you stolen now.....let me guess some fancy colored paper for your minions that we fought and beat easily might I add not just because of my ego?”

“No! Why would we.....oh your the sarcastic one aren’t you....gotta be honest all I remember about you is that and your portals you create....other then that not really anything”

“Oh I can so promise you there is a lot more to me then you know about besides my dashing good looks and my charm”

“Come on we don’t have time for this, we need to get going”

“What you don’t have time for little old me? What’s wrong you afraid of Leon?” Leo asked with a sly smirk as he gazed at them standing there. The villains glanced over at each other, smiling devilishly as the smaller one brought out. Several pieces of paper. Making more minions as their escape route, they seemed to be bigger then before. Some had better weapons then others. Leo gazed over all of them, making it seem like he was confident in himself to take them all on but truth be told he wasn’t. Leonardo got his stance ready and launched himself forward. Cutting two of the closest ones in half with some ease as he tried to follow the two villains from earlier. They were quick as they ran on top of the roof tops together. One carried their stolen item the other created more minions for Leo to defeat on the way.

“You guys are really slacking, I just cut through like 6 of hem with ease. Come on, you would think fancy colored paper would do the trick this time” Leo called out to them as they ran, realizing that they were only ignoring him as he talked. The blue masked turtle sliced his way through the crowd, it seemed as he got closer the villains made even better minions as they traveled. Leonardo hated to admit it but he was getting really tired at this point. He tried his best to follow behind them but his stamina was running low.

“I guess you could say I’m giving them a paper cut huh? Come on and fight me already instead of putting your minions in the way. What ever you got in the brief case shouldn’t be that important. It’s just me, shouldn’t this be a treat to you guys?” Leo asked as he dodged another hit coming at his head swiftly. The comedic turtle formed a portal quickly and on to another building across the street where he saw them go. As he turned the next corner his body was slammed against a big hammer one of the minions was wielding. His body smacked against the closest wall with a loud thud. The air being knocked out out his lungs tremendously as he struggled to breath while laying there. Leo clutched his shell in pain as he sat up from the ground. He reached out and grabbed his sword from the ground next to him. Getting hit once more by another minion to his side, he didn’t know what to do. His mind was racing yet there was no plan of escape. He needed to act fast now, with the villains gone out of his sight and range. He needed to find a way to either defeat all of the minions and get back to them or portal himself out of there and fast. He just wasn’t sure what to do and that was the main problem.

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

“Are you sure he didn’t tell you where he was going Donnie?”

“No he didn’t, I made him leave the lab because he was distracting me with my work” Donnie replied as he flipped his googles down to see if he could trace the energy of his brother’s sword. Raph sighed as he glanced over to Mikey, he seemed tense as he stood there. Almost like he was hiding something as he stood. Raph’s brow knitted together as he took a few steps closer to Mikey as he stood by the edge of the building. Getting his brother’s attention almost immediately.

“Mikey......did Leo tell you where he went?”

“N-no-”

“Mikey?”

“I yelled at him too okay, he scared me and I didn’t mean to....he left looking really sad and then I heard dad yell at him before he left in the other room....I really didn’t mean to yell at him he just scared him a lot and that was my reaction!” Mikey replied, letting everything out as he stood there with and upset look on his face. They all knew Leo’s issue with negative and overthinking, he never told anyone about it but they all knew he had that problem.He felt as though he could be annoying and a burden to them. Like he was useless and that his family hated him for some of the things he has done. Even through they reassurance he still has trouble coming to realize that they could never hate them. Donnie looked back at them in realization, knowing why he had left with out telling any of them now. Guilt was setting in on all of them now as they thought about their brother’s emotions and what would go through his mind at the moment. Raph stepped forward and hugged Mikey tightly. His eyes wondered around for any signs his brother could have left. He knew they didn’t mean to yell at him, but how was he gong to convince him about it when they see him next.

“Have you tried calling April, maybe she has seen him lately?” Raph suggested, watching his smarter brother nod his head as he grabbed his phone. Her number was soon dialed but no one answered after the rings had stopped and the voice said to leave a message. Making them all panic since April always answered her phone no matter what. Donnie soon tried again, his face of confusion said it all as he clicked her contact once more. Getting the same result soon afterward.

“We’re heading over to April’s then, it’s settled right now she never does this” Donnie replied as he stood up from his crouching position and jumped to the next roof top. Having his brother’s follow quickly behind. Their anxiety was through the roof as they traveled closely together. First their brother wasn’t answering and now their best friend wasn’t either. What was going on with the two of them, more importantly was something very wrong. They needed to think positively about this, maybe she just couldn’t reach the phone at the moment and they could try again soon enough.The trio of turtles traveled quickly through the night, coming closer and closer to April’s apartment building across the street. Mikey went first and landed on the ladder outside, hearing voices coming from inside. He waved his brothers over, having them be quiet as he slowly opened the window so they could hear better. As the sat they finally found April coming in to frame and their brother slowly limped behind her to the kitchen chair pulled out. He seemed bruised and cut but alright for now.

“Leo how did you even manage this and what’s inside the briefcase?” April asked as she brought out cleaning supplies and started to clean the cuts along his legs and arms. Hearing him wince as the alcohol touched with open cuts.

“Well.....I ran in to those guys with the *wince* foot symbols again and they carried this along with them.....I followed them and got beat up by their minions. But they weren’t the normal ones, they were like upgraded versions. So naturally I *wince* fought back against them. Just as I thought I wasn’t going to make it and stop them. I managed to- Ow hey be careful”

“Sorry Leo, you know I’m not good with this kind of thing”

“It’s fine....anyway where was I- Oh yeah....I managed to portal away just in time and actually portaled right where they ended up. I took the brief case and portaled my way out of there before they could do anything about it as easy as that.” Leo replied with a large grin on his face as April wrapped his arm slowly so she wouldn’t hurt him any more. April smiled back at him as she watched him fiddle with the case. Soon stopping as his expression faded and went blank. He slowly sat it on to the ground beside them both and glanced back at her cleaning the gash on his leg.

“You mind telling me why your brother’s weren’t with you fighting?” April asked as she looked up at him. Placing a butterfly bandage on his temple where a small cut lied. His gaze fell in to a quite depressed looking one, telling April all she needed to know. She knew about his anxiety and constant over thinking. He covered it up well she had to give him that, but nothing could get past her when it came to her best friends. Already getting an idea in to her head of what had happened.

“I left....I could tell I was being a burden so I figured I would just leave before I made things worse....I didn’t look for a fight the trouble just found me up here.....I came to you because you were the closest when it came to help and well I didn’t want to bother my brother’s and their work....but I’m okay, at least it wasn’t that bad injuries to be fair.” Leo replied with a small sad smile on his face to try and cover his real emotions. April leaned forward and hugged him tightly, trying not to hurt him even more since she noticed the bruising near his shell and the small crack on the right side of his plastron. Leo was in shock for a second, but he soon wrapped his arms as best he could around her with a small chuckle.

“I told you I’m fine-”

“Leo! I’m so sorry....I’m so sorry for yelling at you honest” Mikey broke the silence as he entered the apartment. Joining in on the hug they were having. Leo stared at him in confusion and found his brothers coming in as well from the same window. he laughed softly as April let go and had Mikey hug him tighter. He let out a groan of pain, signaling for Mikey to get off of him. his hand quickly went to the small crack in his shell. Shrugging slightly as he glanced down at it.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“We were searching for you.....when April wasn’t answering we figured something had happened to the both of you and came here to check out the place.....Are you okay Leo, where did you get hurt?” Raph asked, being over protective and caring as always. But as he was about ready to help Leo up his brother stood up himself with a small bit of pain in his eyes.

“I’m fine, April patched me up pretty good.....just gonna have bruising the next few days” Leo replied as he picked up the brief case and limped over to his brother standing there silently. The guilt in his eyes never faded as he glanced away to try and hide his fear. Leo smiled softly as he placed his bandages hand on his brother’s shoulder. Grabbing his attention and handed him the brief case he had took from the bad guys.

“Well since you guys were eavesdropping and doing it really badly might I add. Have a look at what those guys were stealing will ya....and probably away from April’s place just in case it’s something really bad in it like a bomb” Leo replied as he started to make his way to the window. He turned his head back as he felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder. As he looked back he was brought in to another hug. This one was less tight then Mikey’s but Leo could tell how worried Raph was and how much he cared for him at the moment. Leo smiled as he wrapped his arms around his brother, resting his head up against his chest. He felt his other brother’s arms wrap around him soon after like he had done before. Leo’s eyes darted over to Donnie, standing there like he wasn’t aloud to hug him at the moment. But as soon as he seen Leo’s smile he had he knew he was always welcomed. Wrapping his arms around him as well as tight as he could almost.

“Sorry I left guys....I didn’t know I would worry you this much jeez”

“No don’t be sorry....I shouldn’t have yelled at you for scaring be on accident”

“I shouldn’t have been so stern with you when I told you to leave......I-I’m s-so-”

“Save it Donnie.....I forgive you guys” Leo replied as they stayed in the group hug for another minute or so.

“But from now on at least leave a note before taking off like that okay, you scared the ever loving crap out of me!” Raph said as he picked his brother up with ease. Making him chuckle as he held him like a rag doll up in the air.

“I won’t I won’t okay scout’s honor, you want a pinky promise I’ll give you a pinky promise Raph”

“Yes I would like a pinky promise thank you very much”

“Fine pinky promise.....now could we head home....I’m kinda hungry after running around all night after those goons”

“Yes of course, I’ll make dinner as soon as we get back I promise”

“Sounds like a plan bro’s”

29 notes · View notes

rimmers-swimming-certificate · 4 years

Text

Red Dwarf fanfic - Patience

The sleeping quarters on the new ship were bigger and a little more luxurious than the ones that Rimmer remembered. The last time he had been on Red Dwarf, or at least on Red Dwarf in this universe, it had been very different. This was an entirely new, upgraded model, rebuilt by nanobots for reasons that Rimmer still didn’t entirely understand, and from what he had seen of it so far, it was the kind of ship a second technician would have dreamed of being assigned to. Everything about it was better. Even the vending machines were more intelligent, better stocked, and probably much less prone to clogging.

In many ways — actually, probably in every way — it was better than the ship they had used to call home, but it was better in that ‘nice but not yet familiar’ way that a new car was better. It was going to take time to figure out what all the fancy new buttons did, and where to find the headlights and the windscreen wipers. It was going to take time before it felt completely comfortable. As someone who had spent years hopping between dimensions and encountering things and people that were familiar, yet subtly different from the ones that he knew, Rimmer was sure it was going to take time before it felt like home.

Lister didn’t seem to be having any such trouble. Of course, he had a head start on getting used to the place. To Rimmer’s relief, Lister, unlike the ship, hadn’t changed one bit. A little older, maybe, but otherwise identical in every way to the man that Rimmer remembered. He lounged slobbily on a sofa at the other side of the room, humming a tuneless tune under his breath as he casually flicked through the well-thumbed pages of a magazine aimed at women half his age and filled with celebrity gossip over three million years out of date.

All around him was a growing collection of junk. He had, predictably enough, already started to fill every available surface of the living area, and part of the floor, with things he had found around the ship. As though he sensed Rimmer watching him, Lister lowered the magazine and glanced over at him. “Hey,” he said, sounding genuinely pleased to see him. “You’re back in blue.”

Rimmer looked down at his clothing. It had been time. Now that the other Rimmer had left, and taken the Wildfire with him, it was official: he was himself again. It felt good; familiar, like putting on a comfortable pair of old shoes. Ace’s clothes had never felt like that. He nodded.

“What are you doing standing in the doorway?” Lister asked.

Rimmer took a few steps into the room, to allow the door to close behind him. “Just thinking I should get my stuff out of storage,” he said. He made a show of looking at the assorted junk. “While there’s still somewhere left to put it.”

Lister nodded. “You’re still planning on bunking with me then?” he asked.

Honestly, it had never even occurred to Rimmer not to. The ship certainly had enough quarters to spare; they didn’t need to be living in each other's pockets, but he just couldn’t imagine living any other way. For all he had used to complain about Lister's snoring, he had still occasionally had trouble drifting off to sleep on the Wildfire because it was too quiet. For years, when he had woken up in the middle of the night after a bad dream, or had some funny thought occur to him as he drifted off to sleep, he had instinctively tried to talk to Lister about it only to find himself alone.

He shrugged, attempting to give the impression that he didn’t mind one way or another. “Yeah, I’ll probably stick around here,” he said. A horrible thought occurred. He had just assumed he would be welcome, Lister had certainly seemed pleased to have him back on the ship, but what if he wanted his own space? “I mean… If that’s okay with you of course,” he added.

“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Lister told him. “I’ll help you move your stuff out of storage in the morning.” He grinned widely. “It’s not the same around here without your swimming certificates and newspaper clippings brightening the place up.”

Rimmer breathed a silent sigh of relief. “He didn’t have swimming certificates then?” he asked. “The other me?” He tried to keep the jealousy out of his voice, but he heard it anyway. It had been a shock to return home to find another Rimmer, a living Rimmer, no less, in his place. Not only a shock, but confusing too. For a time, he had been convinced that the computer was wrong and he had landed in the wrong dimension.

“Yeah, he did,” Lister told him. “But he took them with him.”

Rimmer nodded. He hadn’t had the opportunity to do that. When he had left, only Lister had known the truth, the others had thought he had died. It would have given the game away if Ace, who had happened to be there at the time, had mysteriously decided to take all of Rimmer’s keepsakes with him when he had headed back out into the unknown.

“I still can’t believe you convinced him to go,” Lister added. “I mean, considering how much work it was to get you to take the plunge. And he was a version of you with no experience at all of parallel universes and no clue about half the smeg he might run into out there.” Lister shook his head in apparent amazement. “When I first met him I thought he was exactly the same as you; you before you died, I mean. He changed a bit while we were in prison, loosened up a bit, if you can believe it, but I figured maybe not having to worry about duties and exams and all that stuff was good for him. Now, I think maybe he was different all along. I mean, he must’ve been, right?”

“How should I know?” Rimmer snapped. Honestly, he hadn’t known him well enough to say. For some reason though, it made him feel better that there might be differences between them. “He never met the real Ace. Maybe not knowing what an insufferable git he was helped.” Not knowing what he might run into out there had probably been a factor too. Rimmer wondered whether he should feel guilty about that. He hadn’t lied exactly, but he had emphasised having his own ship and being a hero side of things over the dangers.

Lister shook his head. “I don’t get it, Rimmer. You were Ace. How can you still hate him?”

“Easily,” Rimmer said. “Sticking on a wig and doing a silly voice doesn’t change who you are, you know. I wasn’t Ace, I was an Ace, just like your other Rimmer is now.”

Lister shrugged, then nodded. “Fair enough.”

Rimmer cleared his throat and folded his arms nervously across his chest. “Are you going to miss him?”

“Ace?”

“The other me.” What he really wanted to ask was, ‘did you miss me?’, but he couldn’t ask that. He couldn't bear it if the answer was no.

Lister frowned thoughtfully. “I mean, it’s only been a couple of days since he left,” he said. “And I’ve got you back… I mean we’ve got you back, so it’s not the same as when you left.” He shrugged. “But yeah, I probably will, a bit.”

Rimmer nodded. That was good. Someone should, and he knew that the others wouldn’t. He brushed a hand down his uniform tunic, then glanced around the room again. “Nice junk collection,” he said.

“It’s not junk,” Lister told him. “It’s salvage.”

“Salvage means things rescued from a shipwreck, Lister. This is junk you found while rooting through the belongings of your former crewmates.”

“Yeah well whatever it is, don’t worry I’ll make room for your stuff,” Lister promised. “You’re lucky it’s all still there, by the way. The others wanted to throw it out.”

A stab of irritation struck him at the thought of that. “Throw it out? My stuff? Why?”

“They thought you were dead, man.” Lister shrugged. “And I guess they’re not as sentimental as I am.”

Translation: they hated him, and they had wanted to get rid of any reminders of his existence. They had probably tried to eject it from an airlock the instant he had left the ship.

“We were still all living on Starbug at the time, don’t forget.” Lister added. “We didn’t have as much room and, well, most of it wasn’t stuff we had any use for.” Lister hesitated. “I think Cat might have been interested in Rachel, but don’t worry, I kept her safe for you.”

A muscle began to twitch just below his left eye at the thought of Cat and Rachel. Not that he had touched her since well before he had died, not even after he had got his hard light drive. Lister was right; Starbug was small, and he wouldn’t have been able to bear the embarrassment of someone walking in on them. He couldn’t imagine wanting to try it now, either. Rachel had been good to him, but it was over between them. Still, the thought of Cat touching her turned his stomach. “Thanks,” he said.

Lister nodded. “Maybe in return you can tell me a bit about what you got up to while you were off being a hero.”

Rimmer didn’t reply. He glanced around the room, looking for a way to change the subject. He strode over to a shelf filled with Lister’s things and picked up a packet of playing cards. The backs of the cards showed soft porn images of women, and he knew instantly that Lister had liberated them from Petersen’s quarters. He quickly checked the pack for anything disgusting, Finding it clean, he held it up to Lister. “Fancy a game?” he asked.

Lister looked at him suspiciously. “I’m going to get it out of you, Rimmer.”

“It’s not a secret,” Rimmer insisted. “I’ve just got back. Give me some time to be myself again before you make me talk about pretending to be him. Now, gin rummy?” he suggested. “Speed? Or how about snap?”

Lister shook his head, still looking suspicious. “Not with those cards. They’re useless. Every single one has a different picture on the back, so all you have to do is memorise which set of breasts belongs to each card. I’ll play later though, with a real pack. In fact, let's have a poker night tonight. All four of us. It’s been a while.”

Rimmer nodded. A quick glance at the deck confirmed that Lister was correct about the cards. He shuffled the assorted sets of breasts, sat down at the table and started to deal himself a game of patience.

“What’re you doing?” Lister asked.

Rimmer glanced over at him again. The magazine was discarded on the floor now, next to a dirty, curry-smeared plate and one — not a pair, just one — dirty sock. Lister was peering at him over the back of the sofa with apparent interest. “Patience,” Rimmer told him.

Lister got up from the sofa. He stepped around the magazine and old plate, and made his way over to the other side of the room, where he folded his arms and leaned against the wall, watching as Rimmer continued to arrange the cards on the table.

Rimmer watched him out of the corner of his eye, as he turned over a card and started to play. Lister continued to stare down at the game as though it was the most interesting thing that had happened aboard the ship in months, and it was a little distracting. “Lister, what are you doing?” Rimmer asked, finally.

“Watching you,” Lister told him.

Rimmer put down the card he had in his hand, and turned to look at him. “Yes, I can see that. What I meant was, why are you watching me?”

Lister shrugged. “I just wanted to see what you were going to do.”

Rimmer turned over another card. He couldn’t use it, so he dropped it on the reject pile and picked up another. “I told you what I’m doing. I’m playing patience.”

“Oh!” Lister grinned and shook his head. “Right, that makes sense. I thought you were telling me to be patient. I thought you were going to do something interesting.”

Rimmer looked up at him incredulously. “The game is called patience, Lister. You know, solitaire? Did you switch brains with the Cat while I was away or something?”

“No, I just…” Lister gave him an embarrassed grin. “I just thought maybe you were going to do a card trick or something.”

Rimmer turned over another card and placed it on top of one already on the table. “Lister, the whole time we’ve known each other, have you ever once seen me show the slightest interest in performing card tricks?”

“Well, no.” Lister pulled out the chair at the opposite side of the table and sat down. He looked down at the cards. “But you’ve been away a while, haven’t you? I figured maybe you picked it up while you were off being Ace.”

Rimmer turned over another card, placed it on the table and made several more moves. “I didn’t,” he said.

“Well you can’t blame me for not knowing that,” Lister told him. “You’ve been back nearly a whole week now and you’ve barely said a single word about what you got up to out there.”

“And so you leapt to the obvious assumption that I’d spent my time learning how to do sleight of hand tricks?”

“Well, no. Not until I thought you were about to do one.”

Rimmer shook his head dismissively and turned over another card in his game. “I did a lot while I was away,” he said. “Far too much to tell you about in just a week. Dozens of heroic rescues, overthrew a couple of fascist dictatorships, organised an uprising or two.” He shrugged in what he hoped was a modest way. “Nothing special.”

Lister smirked.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just you did that hair flick thing again. It just looks a bit silly when you don’t have the wig on.”

Had he? He hadn’t noticed. He glared at Lister, just on the off-chance that he was messing with him. “No I didn’t,” he said.

“Rimmer, you did. You do it about five times a day. Maybe you should just start wearing the wig again, at least that way you’d have enough hair to have to actually flick it out of your eyes.” He shrugged. “Or you could grow yours out.”

Rimmer shook his head. “Lister, there’s a reason that Ace decided to wear a wig; my hair just doesn’t do that. Anyway, I passed the wig on to the other Rimmer.” Like passing a baton in an endless relay race around the assorted parallel universes, he had handed over the wig to the living version of himself that the nanobots had created in his own universe, and sent him on his way. “And like I was saying, I did loads while I was away, and I’ll tell you about it one day. I’ve just been too busy settling back in.”

“Right, absolutely, makes sense,” Lister told him. “Well, except for the part where you haven’t even got your stuff out of storage yet. Anyway, you’re not busy now.”

He gritted his teeth. Technically, he supposed Lister was right; he wasn’t busy. That didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it. Not yet. One day, maybe. If it ever came up in conversation naturally, rather than when he was being grilled for information. And if it never did, well, maybe Lister would tire of asking after a few years. He pointed at the cards on the table. “I am busy.”

Lister looked decidedly unimpressed as he looked at the game. “Come on Rimmer, the only reason people play that is to kill time because they’re bored. And it’s not even a good way to kill time. Why don’t you watch a film or something, like a normal person?”

“I’m not ‘killing time’, Lister. I play because I enjoy it.”

Lister looked unconvinced. “Okay then, so how come I never saw you play it before?”

Rimmer turned over another card. “When did I have a chance before?” he asked. “Before I died I was always busy. When I wasn’t on duty, I was revising, or trying to convince you to pick up after yourself. I didn’t have a lot of time for sitting around playing games.”

“Yeah, okay.” Lister shrugged. “But I never saw you do it after the crew got wiped out either.”

Rimmer sighed in frustration and slammed another card onto the table. “Lister, why are you so interested in why I’m playing a game? I just wanted to.” God, Lister was infuriating. He could be a master irritant when he wanted to, skilled in the not so subtle art of being annoying. And what was worse, was that he revelled in it. Once he got an idea in his head, he would keep going until he got his way. Rimmer had missed him, more than he had ever realised he would, but he definitely hadn’t missed this. “Can’t you just smeg off and read your magazine, leave me to it?” he tried, knowing that Lister wouldn’t.

Lister didn’t smeg off. Instead, he tucked his chair a little further under the table, rested his chin in a hand and looked down at the cards on the table as though he were the one playing the game.

Rimmer watched him for a moment then sighed. “Fine. If you must know, the reason I didn’t play then, was because I was still soft light. Not being able to pick things up doesn’t exactly make it easy to play cards, you know. Just enlisting the skutters’ help to let me play poker was bad enough, and that doesn't take half the dexterity that this does.”

“Dexterity?” Lister shook his head dismissively. “I thought you said you weren’t doing card tricks. How much dexterity does it take to turn over a playing card and put it down in the right place?”

It took a lot more that Lister could ever realise, and a level that a skutter just didn’t possess. Not unless you were willing to spend about twenty minutes on every move. Rimmer shook his head. “Lister, until you know the frustration of spending hours coaching some idiot of a skutter to perform a simple task that should take two seconds, only to have to watch them screw it up over and over again, I’ll thank you to keep your mouth shut on the subject.”

Lister looked at him, and for a moment Rimmer thought that he was going to argue. Instead, he frowned, then reached for the pile of cards. He moved slowly, as though paying attention to every minuscule movement of his hand and arm as his fingers slid the card from the top of the pile and turned it over. “Okay, yeah,” he said, and handed the card to Rimmer. He looked thoughtful for a moment. “It’s probably a bit like that fake arm Kryten gave me that one time,” he said. “Took me forever just to make the stupid thing pick up a smegging ball. Something like this? There’d have been no way.”

Rimmer looked up at him sharply. “What?”

“Well, until Kryten upped the sensitivity, but that wasn’t any good either, ‘cos then it had a mind of its own.”

Rimmer tried to make sense of what he was hearing, but he couldn’t. He looked at Lister, specifically at Lister’s arms; they both appeared normal. They were covered by the sleeves of his jacket, making it difficult to be sure, but as far as he could tell, they looked exactly the same as they had always done. He allowed his gaze to move to Lister’s hands, where he could see bare skin. They both looked fine too; completely normal. “Lister, what are you talking about?” he asked. “What fake arm?”

“Oh, right,” Lister said. “You weren’t here for that.” He shrugged like it was unimportant, and pointed to one of the cards already turned over on the table. “You can move that one,” he said. “To there.”

Rimmer ignored him, and instead continued to stare at Lister’s hands. They both looked real. They both moved like they were real. If one of them wasn’t, it was the best prosthetic he had ever seen. “Lister, are you trying to tell me that you have a prosthetic arm?” he asked.

“What?” Lister grinned as though that was the funniest thing he’d heard all year. “Of course I don’t.” He flexed the fingers of his right hand compulsively. “Rimmer, have you ever seen those things? Trust me, if I did, you’d have noticed by now. He reached for the card he had told Rimmer to move, and moved it himself.

“Lister, don’t do that!” Rimmer snapped. He snatched the card up and moved it back to where it had been before.”

“I was only helping!”

“Well don’t. This is a one man game; you’re not supposed to help. For all you know, I was saving that move for later.” He looked at the cards, desperately trying to find another move to make first; any other move, just to prove his point. Typically, there were none. He scowled at the cards as though they had done it on purpose, then grabbed the one Lister had moved, and moved it again. “So if you didn’t lose an arm, what were you doing with a prosthetic?” he asked.

Lister shrugged. “I never said I didn’t lose it. I just kinda…” he shrugged, “found it again. But technically I didn’t lose it actually. I knew where it was, it’s just that Kryten hacked it off with a laser scalpel and flushed it out the airlock.” He winced and flexed his fingers again. “Anyway, stop changing the subject.”

“Yes, because the subject of exactly how many times I’ve played a particular card game in the past is infinitely more fascinating than the story of how you lost and somehow found an arm. Come on, what happened?”

“Actually, the subject was what you got up to while you were Ace,” Lister corrected. “Talking about your stupid card game came later.”

“Lister, I want to know how you lost an arm,” Rimmer demanded.

Lister frowned thoughtfully. “Oh, do you?” he asked. “Okay, let’s trade. If I tell you this story, you’ve got to tell me one of yours. Deal?”

Rimmer sighed, the idea that this whole thing might have been a setup suddenly occurred to him, but he really did want to know. He folded his arms and glared at Lister admonishingly. “Okay, fine,” he agreed. “But it better be a good story.”

“Killer virus,” Lister told him. “Got snogged by a three million year old corpse, caught this thing called Epideme.” He shrugged. “Kochanski and Kryten got the idea that they could chase it into my arm, then cut it off.”

Rimmer blinked. “You got snogged by a what?” he frowned. “Wait a minute, that wouldn’t work. You can’t just chase a virus into one part of the body and lop it off, or else they’d have been able to cure everything that way.”

“Turns out you can,” Lister told him. “Or you could with this one, anyway. Except for a few bits of the virus escaped back into my body, so I ended up armless for nothing. In the end they actually had to kill me so Epideme left, then they brought me back to life.”

Rimmer blinked. “Right. So you died?”

“Well, I mean not really. Not like you did, anyway. It doesn’t count if it’s only for a minute or so.”

That was a lot to take in. “And getting the arm back?”

Lister shrugged. “Nanobots. You know that part already.”

“I knew they rebuilt the ship and the crew. You neglected to mention the part where they also rebuilt you.“

“Out of the whole thing, honestly that seemed like the least interesting part.”

Rimmer shook his head. “It’s a part of the story, it’s relevant. And how could you think I wouldn’t be interested in you agreeing to let Kryten cut off your arm to save you from a deadly space virus?”

“Honestly? It wasn’t exactly something I was eager to relive. I only brought it up now because I figured I’d be able to get a story out of you in return.”

“So you did trick me,” Rimmer said. “You lured me in with a hint of a story, knowing I’d want to know more, just so that you could wheedle information out of me in return. I knew it!”

Lister grinned. “Yeah.” The grin faded. “But having one arm sucked like you wouldn’t believe. I couldn’t play the guitar.”

Rimmer smirked. “Well in that case I’m surprised you found anybody willing to help you track down the nanobots. Personally, I’d have been completely willing to sacrifice your arm in order to silence your guitar.”

“Smeg off. You would have as well, wouldn’t you? It was my right arm too. Do you know how crap I am at everything with my left hand? I could hardly do anything for myself.”

Rimmer turned over another card in his game of patience. “You’d have learned. It was only one arm, so it’s not that bad, is it? I didn’t have any arms at all — any body at all — for years, and you didn’t hear me whinging about it.”

“Seriously?” Lister stared at him incredulously. “Rimmer, you used to whinge about it all the time.”

“I didn’t. Not all the time, anyway.” He thought back to the time after he had first been activated. “I mean, maybe I complained a little bit at first, but all things considered I think I handled the whole thing pretty well. Better than you would have done, anyway. And even if I had complained, I’d say that was a whinge-worthy problem. Losing one arm, not so much.”

“This is why I didn’t tell you about this before,” Lister told him. “I knew you’d find some way to trivialise it.”

“I’m not,” Rimmer assured him. “I’m sure the whole thing was very traumatic for you. How terrible it must have been, having to brush your teeth with your left hand.”

Lister shook his head. “Fine. Go on then, you owe me a story. And it better be a good one too.”

Rimmer mulled over his options. He had stories, of course he did. The issue wasn’t thinking of a story, it was thinking of a story that would paint him in the right light; one that Lister would be impressed by, but that didn’t make him sound too much like that insufferable git Ace. He needed something that would remind Lister why he, Rimmer, the Rimmer without a wig, was the superior Rimmer.

He couldn’t think of a single one.

“You’re right, you know,” he said, hoping to fill the time. “I didn’t play patience before. I picked it up while I was off being Ace.”

Lister nodded. “Yeah, I figured,” he said. “It couldn’t have been all daring missions and rescuing the damsel in distress, could it?”

“Sometimes it wasn’t a damsel, men needed rescuing too, you know. In fact, they needed rescuing more than the women because they have a tendency to do more stupid things and get themselves into trouble.”

Lister shrugged. “Fine, so it couldn’t be all rescuing the damsel or,” he hesitated, “…or damson in distress.”

“I don’t think that’s the right word.”

Lister waved a hand dismissively. “My point is, there had to have been some downtime in between. And it’s not like you had us lot around to talk to, so you would’ve needed something to do.”

“I kept myself busy enough.”

“Well yeah, but I bet because you’re, well, you, even though you probably could’ve spent the night in bed with whatever lucky sod you just saved, you’d’ve probably convinced yourself they didn’t actually like you or something, and decided to spend your nights alone in your ship. So you needed something to do, so you got yourself a pack of cards.”

Rimmer sighed. On the one hand, it was nice to be back around someone who understood him. On the other, sometimes it would be nice if Lister didn’t know him quite so perfectly. “I didn’t have to ‘get’ the cards, they were already there, left behind by a previous Ace.”

Lister shook his head. “That wasn’t really the point.”

“Fine. Well if you must know, Lister, I did have a few liaisons. I even had to turn down a couple of marriage proposals. But in-between all that, there was still a lot of time alone. There were times when I would jump into dimension after dimension and find them completely empty. I don’t know whether humans just never evolved there, or whether they wiped themselves out before I arrived, or if I was just in completely the wrong part of the universe. All I know is, there were times that I went for months without speaking to another person. So I had to find something to do.”

Lister nodded. He was quiet for a long moment, then folded his arms tightly and nodded. “Sounds lonely,” he said quietly.

It had been. Long stretches of loneliness and boredom interspersed with the occasional terrifying situation.

Lister was looking at him now with something approaching sympathy in his expression. Lister understood loneliness; a man who had surrounded himself with a large group of friends, who had been friends with everybody, who had thrived on and drawn energy from the social interactions that left Rimmer drained and anxious. A man who had found himself marooned in deep space, the last survivor of the human race.

“It was fine,” Rimmer assured him. It was only a partial lie, half of the time it really had been. Well, a bit less than half. More like a quarter. Or fifteen percent? He shook his head. “Okay yes, it was a bit lonely. But it’s your fault.”

“Mine? How’s it my fault? Because I convinced you to go?”

Actually, that was a good point too, but not the one Rimmer had been trying to make. He shook his head. “No. It’s your fault I couldn’t hack the solitude. Over the past however long it’s been, I must have got used to having you around.”

“So you’re mad at me because you missed me?”

Rimmer shook his head. “I‘m not mad at you, and I didn’t miss you, not specifically. I just missed not being alone; having someone to talk to.”

Lister grinned. “You did. You missed me,” he said.

“Fine. And what about you? Did you miss me?” He hadn’t meant to ask that, but now it was out there, he couldn’t take it back. He held his breath and waited for the reply.

Lister folded his arms. “Yeah, of course I did,” he admitted. He glanced away and dropped his voice to a mumbled whisper. “Even had a couple of dreams about you.”

Rimmer nodded in satisfaction. Lister hadn’t even been on his own. For some of that time, he had had a whole crew to keep him company, not to mention a version of Rimmer himself, and yet he still admitted to missing him. He smiled to himself, confident that he had come out the victor in this competition. “Wait,” he asked. “What kind of dreams?”

“Just dreams, not important.”

He decided to let it go for now. “So, your turn,” he said. “What else did I miss while I was off being a hero? Did Kryten hack off anybody else’s body parts?”

“One arm wasn’t enough for you?”

“Okay, maybe that’s enough dismemberment, but something else interesting must have happened while I was away.”

Lister frowned. “What, other than the entire crew, including you, coming back to life?”

“Other than that. I already know about that.”

“Well yeah, plenty happened,” Lister told him, “but you haven’t held up your side of the bargain yet, have you? A story about you sitting around in your ship playing cards on your own doesn’t exactly count, you know.”

“Of course it does. You never specified what the content of the story needed to be.”

“Suit yourself,” Lister told him, and turned over another of Rimmer’s cards. He placed it exactly where Rimmer would have put it, which allowed him to make five more moves and take two cards out of play. He moved to pick up another card.

“Fine,” Rimmer told him. “I’ll tell you one more story.”

Lister looked up.

“I rescued you once,” Rimmer told him. He hesitated. That wasn’t true, strictly speaking. “Well, no. Not you but another version of you. And it wasn’t much of a rescue either if I’m honest.”

“Great story, Rimmer. I’m on the edge of my seat!”

Rimmer scowled at him. “It was a couple of GELFs with a grudge, and they — the other crew — would have probably handled it fine if I hadn’t shown up, but I did, so I thought it was only right to lend a hand.” As he spoke, he heard himself slip unthinkingly into the Ace Rimmer accent he had perfected over the years. He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I kinda like it.”

Rimmer rolled his eyes and continued in his own accent. “He was a lot like you, the other Lister. If I hadn’t known better — well, if I hadn’t had a ship’s computer that could tell me better — I’d have genuinely believed I was home. It turned out his Rimmer had already left to become Ace, years earlier. When I showed up, the other Lister thought his Rimmer had come back.”

Lister winced. “Did you tell him he hadn’t?”

“I didn’t want to,” Rimmer admitted. He looked away. “Telling him that, was basically the same as telling him that his Rimmer was gone.”

“Yeah,” Lister said. “If I was him, I don’t know how I’d have…” He folded his arms and stopped talking abruptly.

Rimmer nodded. “This thing is, it was a bit more delicate than that. They’d been…” he hesitated, “They were pretty close. Closer than you and I.”

Lister frowned. “Closer than us? Rimmer, the only way they could possibly have been closer than us is if they were…” His eyes widened as understanding dawned. Rimmer nodded, and slowly a smile spread across Lister’s face. “Oh, right,” he said. “Right.”

“It turned out they’d been together for quite some time before he went off to be a hero,” Rimmer said. He shook his head. “The idiot.”

“Hey!” said Lister. “You’re saying sleeping with me makes him an idiot?”

Rimmer shook his head. “No. Well, yes, obviously he must have been. But what I meant was why would a version of me who had someone that loved him, give it all up to go off and be Ace? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Lister shrugged. “You did it.”

Rimmer looked at him for a long moment, trying to figure out exactly what Lister had meant by that.

Lister cleared his throat. “So, what did you think about that particular revelation?”

He considered the question. “Mostly, I thought that I really didn’t want to have to be the one to tell him his boyfriend had died. For a moment, I even thought about playing along, being his Rimmer for a day or two then telling him I had to go off and be a hero again.”

“You didn’t, did you?”

Rimmer shook his head. “Of course not.” He was still Ace at the time, and that would have been a cowardly move. Another time, another circumstance, maybe he would have done. “It wouldn’t have been fair to him.”

“Yeah,” Lister agreed. “Definitely not.”

Rimmer picked up another card, and rather than putting it down, he began to fidget with it, turning it over nervously in his hands. He cleared his throat. “I thought another thing too,” he said.

“Oh yeah?”

“I thought about how glad I was, that there was at least one universe out there where I’d been brave enough to accept who I was.”

Lister nodded, and Rimmer got the impression that he wasn’t telling him anything he hadn’t already known. “So how’d he take it?” he asked. “When you told him you weren’t his Rimmer?”

Rimmer continued to fidget with the playing card. “I think he already knew, really. I mean, I think he hoped I was his Rimmer, but he didn’t really believe it. He’d already accepted that he was gone. That’s how it works, isn’t it? As soon as you get into the ship and make your first jump that’s supposed to be it. It’s meant to be a one way trip, and he knew that.”

Lister nodded. “Meant to, anyway.”

“He asked me to stay,” Rimmer continued. “Not to replace his Rimmer or anything like that, just to make a home there. Stop leaping dimensions and just… just be me again. It was tempting, too.” In fact, he had stayed for a little while, but he had found that he needed to move on. “When I told him I needed to go, he’s the one that told me I should try to get home. I think he could tell my heart wasn’t in it anymore.”

“And so you came back,” Lister said. He smiled warmly. “I’m glad. No offence to the other Lister, but if you were going to settle down somewhere, it had to be here.”

“It wasn’t quite as simple as just ‘coming back’,” Rimmer told him. “It was actually very difficult. You can’t safely jump between similar dimensions, you know. It involved multiple jumps, a fair amount of danger, and a lot of luck. Of course, if I’d known you’d gone and made yourself a brand new Rimmer, I might have just stayed where I was.” He could hear the jealousy in his voice, and he didn’t care

Lister shook his head. “Come on, you know that wasn’t planned. Anyway, he wasn’t you. I mean, he was you, but he wasn’t you you, was he?”

That was the kind of thing that Rimmer might have rolled his eyes at, once upon a time. Now, it made perfect sense. He had met a lot of people who both were, and were not, people he had known. It was a strange feeling, one that he had never quite got used to. “Still, I was surplus to requirements around here, wasn’t I?” He was fishing and he knew it. He didn’t care.

Lister seemed to know it too. It was obvious that he was playing along as he shook his head sympathetically. “Of course not!” He paused, then shrugged, “I mean, two of you would’ve been a bit too much to handle, but you’re always welcome here, Rimmer. Always.”

Satisfied, Rimmer nodded. “And I suppose it’s good that you replaced me,” he said. “Because then I could replace Ace. If there hadn’t been another me here, it would’ve meant the chair was broken.” He shrugged. “Not that that’s exactly a tragedy though. Does the universe really need some smug git in a wig flying around being heroic? Really?”

“I didn’t replace you,” Lister insisted. “And I think the universe probably does need an Ace. Just like it needs an endless ouroboros cycle of List…” he stopped, then smiled. “Okay, my turn,” he said. “While you were off being a smug git in a wig, I found out who my parents were.”

Rimmer stared at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. And you’ll never guess who they are.”

Rimmer resisted the urge to groan. “It’s going to be something ridiculous, isn’t it?” he said. “Like you’re actually related to royalty or something.” He was never going to hear the end of it; Lister was going to be constantly lording it over him. “You’re the illegitimate son of some King or Queen, dumped in a pub by a jealous relative whose claim to the throne your birth put at risk.”

Lister grinned and shook his head. “Er, no. Not exactly,” he said.

Rimmer breathed a silent sigh of relief. The only thing worse than finding out something like that would be… oh smeg. “You’re my brother, aren’t you? Like in that reality we hallucinated when we encountered the despair squid.” Oh, that was all he needed, just when he was beginning to come to terms with the idea that he might like Lister. It was typical, and so in-keeping with his luck that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t figured it out sooner. “How the smeg did that happen?” He rested his head in his hands. “I didn’t even know my mum had been to Liverpool.”

Lister laughed and shook his head. “I have to give you this much, Rimmer, you’ve got a good imagination.”

“So we’re not brothers?”

“No, of course we’re not.”

Rimmer began to breathe a sigh of relief, then hesitated. “And not half brothers? Or cousins? Second cousins once removed?”

“We’re no relation at all. Well, at least as far as I know.”

Rimmer exhaled slowly. “Right. Good.”

“It’s even weirder than that, actually.” Lister paused, either for effect or to make sure Rimmer was listening, Rimmer wasn’t sure. “It turns out I’m my own dad.”

Rimmer frowned. That couldn’t be right. He looked at Lister, searching for any hint that this was some kind of a joke, but he couldn’t see any. Finally, he shook his head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. But it’s true. Me and Krissie had a baby, and it was me. Then I…”

“Wait,” Rimmer interrupted. “You and Kochanski?” He tried to ignore the stab of jealousy that came with that particular revelation, and failed. “I thought you said you never got back together with her. You said she was too hung up on the other Lister. You said…”

“Hey.” Lister stopped his words with a gentle hand on his arm. “Relax. She was still too into the other Lister, and I can’t really blame her either. I mean, they were together a long time; as long as me and you. And over that time she’d moulded him into some kinda weird, opera-loving anti-Lister. I mean, I was never going to live up to that, and I didn’t want to either. All I had to do was make a… uh, a genetic donation, and she was planning on raising the baby with him.”

“Oh,” Rimmer said. “Well, good. Not that I care, of course.”

“Nah, ‘course you don’t,” Lister agreed. “Anyway, it’s probably for the best that she wasn’t into me; I was a bit too hung up on somebody else myself too, if I’m honest.”

Rimmer wondered who it could have been. Lister’s own Kochanski, he supposed. After all, the one that had ended up aboard Starbug with them had been a different Kochanski from a different dimension. If the years they had spent together had changed the other Lister to the point where he was almost unrecognisable. Maybe there had been differences between the two Kochanskis that Lister hadn’t been able to see past.

“Anyway, that doesn’t matter,” Lister continued. “So when the baby was born, we raised him for a couple of months until he was about the same age I’d been when they found me, then I went back in time and left him under that pool table so that he could be found, grow up, get stranded three million years in the future, work this all out for himself and then do the same thing to his own kid." He paused, then frowned. “Who will be me as well.”

Rimmer pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head slowly from side to side as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing. Of all the nonsensical things that they had encountered during their time in space, this had to be one of the most improbable, for so many reasons. “Lister, before I dignify this with an answer, tell me, are you being serious?” he asked.

“Well, yeah. Of course I am. You don’t think I could just make up a story like that, do you?”

He probably could but it didn’t sound like something he would do. For all he had always pretended not to mind, Rimmer knew how much not knowing the truth about where he came from had bothered Lister. He also knew how much it had hurt him having to give up the twins; he wouldn’t joke about giving another child away.

“So, if you’re your own dad,” he said in an attempt to break the tension, “that makes Kochanski your mum, right? So is that why you never got together?”

“What?” Lister pulled a face. “No. Why would it be?”

“Well, because she’s your mum,” Rimmer repeated. “I mean, you’ve got to admit it would be a bit weird.”

Lister folded his arms. “It’s not like that though, is it? She’s the kid’s mum, not mine.” Even as he said it, he didn’t sound convinced.

“But the kid is you.”

“Yeah, but…” Lister shook his head.

“Technically, it sounds like she’s your grandmother too,” Rimmer added, with a smile to show that he was joking. He wasn’t, actually, but Lister didn’t need to know that. “And your great grandmother.”

Lister folded his arms and rolled his eyes. “Smeg off,” he said. “You’re just happy because you think you’ve got a chance with me now, like that other Rimmer did.”

Rimmer sat back in his seat. He genuinely hadn’t thought he was being that obvious. He looked at Lister, trying to decide whether he was joking, or whether he was feeling particularly empathic today. “No I’m not,” he lied.

“Oh,” said Lister. “Well that’s too bad.”

Rimmer blinked.

“So, did you ever figure out where the universes diverged?” Lister said.

It was such an abrupt change of subject that it took him a moment or two to realise that Lister was talking about the other him again. “More or less, yes. It was around the time I got my hard light drive. Remember that night we stayed up all night drinking and talking about things?”

Lister nodded. “I remember you talking for hours about different textures and temperatures, trying to make me understand why it was so great to be able to feel for the first time in years.” He smiled. “Must’ve been amazing.”

It had been. It still was, even if he sometimes took it for granted now. “Well, from what I can gather, that night played out a little differently in that universe, and ended up with the two of us… well, the two of them…”

“Gotcha.”

“What I couldn’t figure out is why that happened. There must have been something before that that changed things enough that we felt able to do that, but whatever it was, it must have been so small that the other Lister and I couldn’t figure it out.”

Lister shrugged. “Might be because there wasn’t anything,” he said. “Sometimes things just happen, you know. I bet I can guess exactly how the whole thing started out; Rimmer put his hand on Lister’s, to feel it I mean, and Lister grabbed hold of it, pulled him in closer and kissed him. Right?”

Rimmer blinked. “I don’t know,” he said. “I never asked for a play-by-play. Why?”

“Because that’s what happens, isn’t it? When realities split. You have a choice, you make it, and the other version of you makes the opposite choice.”

Rimmer nodded. “More or less.”

“So here’s the thing,” Lister told him. He picked up the pile of unplayed cards on the table and ran his fingernail down the side of the stack. “In this reality, when you touched my hand I was… well, I was kinda tempted to pull you closer and kiss you, but I chickened out.”

Rimmer stared at him, trying to process what he was hearing. “Why?”

“Because you were talking about all these different sensations you’d been missing out on, and how amazing it was, and I thought you might want to experience another one.”

“Not why did you want to, you gimboid. I meant why didn’t you?”

“Oh…” Lister hesitated. “Well, like I said, I chickened out. I thought you might not like it, or you’d turn me down. And maybe you would have. I mean, if anything that could happen did happen in one universe or another, there must also be a universe where I kissed you, but instead of whatever happened in the dimension you landed in, you freaked out over it and things got really weird between us. So I mean, maybe I dodged a bullet.”

Rimmer pursed his lips. He wanted to insist that wouldn’t have happened, and maybe he was right, but there was a good chance he wasn’t. After all, he already knew that theirs wasn’t the reality where they had ended up together. Not then anyway. He sighed. “You’re probably right.”

A shadow of disappointment fell over Lister’s face.

“No, I mean, it was different then,” Rimmer stammered. “It was a long time ago. Just because I might have reacted badly then, doesn't mean I’d do the same thing now, does it?”

“I dunno.” Lister looked at him like he was trying to figure out whether Rimmer was serious, and if so, how serious. “Does it?”

Lister put down the playing cards and rested his hand on the surface of the table. Not breaking eye contact with Lister, Rimmer slowly slid his hand across until the tips of their fingers touched. He kept going, until his hand rested on top of Lister’s. As he moved, he tried to remember how he had felt that night, when everything had been so new and every touch had felt amplified a hundredfold. He concentrated on the warmth of Lister’s skin in comparison to the cool air of their quarters, the difference between the texture of the soft back of his hand and the rougher skin of his knuckles.

He had been so afraid that night, convinced that the hard light drive wouldn’t last; that his bad luck would kick in and he would revert to his usual, soft light form, deprived once again of the ability to feel. He remembered thinking how much worse it was going to be, having experienced touch only to have it snatched away again, and he remembered how desperate he had been to cram as much sensation as he could into every second, before it was too late.

He had become complacent, he realised, as he pressed the tips of his fingers a little harder into the back of Lister’s hand, feeling the bones and tendons beneath the skin. He had become too used to it; started to take it for granted. He closed his eyes and savoured the sensation in a way that he hadn’t done in years.

After a moment, Lister placed his own free hand on top of Rimmer’s and simply held him for a while, Rimmer’s hand encased in Listers, feeling the warmth of his skin. Then, gently, he turned it over. When his hand lay palm upward on top of Lister’s, Lister began to trace the lines of Rimmer’s palm with his fingertips, then, when that was done, began to move his finger in slow, lazy circles. It felt good. It felt incredible, but it wasn’t what he had been expecting. He opened his eyes and looked at Lister, questioning.

“What? I wasn’t just going to grab you and go for a snog,” Lister told him. “I’m a bit more subtle than that. I mean, not much, but a bit.”

Slowly, he pulled Rimmer’s hand a little closer to him, lifting it from the table and toward his lips, then gently kissed his fingertips one at a time. Finally, he moved his grip further up Rimmer’s arm. Holding tightly at his arm at the elbow, he tugged gently. His grip was firm enough that he could lead Rimmer closer to him, but not so firm that Rimmer wouldn’t be able to back off if he wanted to. Rimmer didn’t want to.

Lister pulled him closer until he leaned far enough across the table that Lister could easily close the distance between them, then he touched his lips to Rimmer’s. Their lips brushed gently together, barely a kiss, barely even a touch. It left him wanting more. Rimmer leaned closer, trying to get more sensation, but Lister moved further back. He smiled and shook his head. “Wait for it,” he whispered. Rimmer felt his breath on his skin.

He moved a little closer, a fraction of a centimetre, and allowed Rimmer to feel the warmth of his skin and the softness of his lips as they pressed, slightly open, against his own. Lister’s hand snaked slowly around the back of his head, his fingers parting Rimmer’s curls as they worked their way through his hair. At the same time, Lister’s tongue teased Rimmer’s and Rimmer felt himself respond in kind.

For a moment, everything around then faded away. The living quarters, the ship, the years that they had been apart, everything but the moment. Rimmer was lost in sensation; drowning in it.

And then, it was over. All concept of time had abandoned him, and Rimmer had no idea how long it had been before they finally came up for air. At some point, he didn’t know when, he had closed his eyes. He opened them now to find himself staring directly into Lister’s eyes. Lister smiled nervously, and shrugged. “So, it’d have probably been a bit like that,” he said. “If I hadn’t chickened out that night, I mean.”

“Right,” Rimer said. He nodded, and sat back down again, unsure what he was supposed to do or say now. His game of patience was ruined, the cards scattered over the tabletop and on the floor. He tugged on the bottom of his uniform tunic, straightening any creases that might have appeared, and quickly ran his fingers through his hair in a futile effort to undo any damage Lister might have done to it. “Right,” he said again.

He could feel his own simulated heartbeat pounding in the hard light projection of his chest. His skin tingled everywhere that Lister had touched him, and he wanted more.

“Right,” he said, for a third time. He realised that he really should think of something else to say, but for some reason he was drawing a complete blank. He opened his mouth to speak again, and this time, closed it again.

“Well?” Lister asked. Rimmer could hear the apprehension in his voice, and see it on his face.

Rimmer took a slow, deep breath and tried to force his mind to regain the ability to speak. “That was…” he began, then faltered. He didn’t have the words to describe what that had been. Anything he might say would pale into insignificance in comparison to the real thing. He took another breath, slowly in and out. He needed to say something or it was going to start to get weird. “Lister, if you’d done that the day after I first got my hard light drive, you’d probably have shorted the damn thing out,” he said.

“What’s that mean?” Lister asked, appearing worried now.

Rimmer reached for him again. He grabbed clumsily at his hand before intertwining his fingers with Lister’s. “It means it was incredible,” he said. “But it would have been too much for me then. When I hadn’t been able to feel for all those years, suddenly experiencing something like that… it would have been overwhelming.” It was almost still too much for him now, but at the same time it hadn’t been enough. He wanted more. If Lister could do that with a few gentle touches, Rimmer wanted to know what else he could do.

“I mean, I’ve had a bit of time to think about it, so maybe it wouldn’t have been exactly like that,” Lister told him.

“So you’ve been thinking about it?”

“No.” Lister said, far too quickly. Then he shrugged and glanced away. “Well, you know, just now and then. Not all the time or anything like that. Just when I had nothing to do and my mind wandered.”

In other words, he had been daydreaming about it. About him. Of all the things Lister had told him about the things he had missed while he had been away, the deadly virus, the resurrection of the crew, finding out that Lister was his own father, somehow the revelation that Dave Lister had been daydreaming about him was the most unexpected. And the most wonderful.

“So,” Lister said. “It might have been too much for you then, but what about now? You’ve had a couple of years to get used to touch again, and I bet you had more than a couple of kisses while you were off being a hero, so…” his question tailed off, leaving it hanging in the air between them.

Rimmer thought about it. “It was still overwhelming,” he said honestly. “But I think…” he hesitated. “I think being overwhelmed now and then might be a good thing.”

“Want to try again?”

Rimmer nodded.

Lister got to his feet and pressed the manual lock on the door to their quarters. He offered a hand to Rimmer as he walked back past him, and when Rimmer accepted, steered him in the direction of the sofa. “Might be a bit comfier over here than leaning across a table,” he said.

He sat down and Rimmer sat next to him. He glanced down at his hands awkwardly, not sure what he was supposed to do.

“Hey, by the way,” Lister said as he edged himself a little closer and snaked a hand around Rimmer’s shoulders and then up into his hair again. “Don’t you think this gets you out of telling me stories. I still want to know everything you got up to when you were out there being Ace.”

Thank you to @coney-island-blitz for the beta on this!

#red dwarf #red dwarf fanfic #my fic #long post #dave lister #arnold rimmer #rimmer/lister

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years

Text

Better Homes & Gardens

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Summary:

Peter Parker is running on mixed up feelings when Quentin kicks him out of their apartment. To make matters worse, he's beat up and mugged. Getting back on his feet, MJ suggests taking boxing classes at Iron Man's Boxing Gym. The gym owner? No one other than Tony Stark. Filling in for Happy on a Wednesday night, Tony's life is changed when a very cute and insanely interesting stranger walks through the doors of his gym. All good things the Starker way!

Find it on AO3 here

It was all for nothing, it was all a waste.

When he thought closely about it, Quentin forcing him out the door was the only real ending that made sense. For the two years they’d been together, Peter let the man control everything about them – and the couple they ended up becoming. Letting someone take advantage of his vulnerability could only end one way – that vulnerability being exposed. Quentin was the perfect representation of hope at the end of the tunnel after May died. He offered protection and to some extent, a love that only someone manipulative could give to another person.

The more on his feet Peter started to become, the less Quentin wanted to do with him. Peter felt him pulling away long before he walked into their shared apartment to his boyfriend in bed with the neighbor across the hall. And to think, all twenty-five years of his life fit into a duffle bag and a couple milk creates. Walking out of that apartment was both the worst and best moment of his life. Freedom felt nice, if just a little heavy with an angst he couldn’t help but feel. The thought of being reduced down to so little made him full body cringe – but there had to be worse things.

Things that were worse weren’t very far off, though. It’d been a long time since he’d been out late at night by himself – especially hauling a couple cases worth of goods, even if nothing in anything he was carrying was worth a goddamn penny. Just blocks outside of MJ’s apartment, Peter felt his skin start to prickle, like he was being watched, or something. The subway ride from upper Manhattan back to Queen’s was pretty miserable, so he already felt a little irritable. Picking up his pace a little, Peter felt that irritability very quickly change to fear. His fingers were achy from carrying the crates all over the place, but he gripped the slim handles tighter, anyway.

The alley they ended up cornering him in used to house his favorite pizza parlor. Maggiano’s went out of business ages ago – the alley, though, it was just as dark and creepy as it’d always been. The first punch made the right side of his face go numb, and the second one brought him to his knees. With the milk crates filled with personal memories and picture frames that were almost as old as he was on the ground, it was much easier to curl in on himself and keep the beating as far from his stomach as he could.

Coming to in a hospital wasn’t the greatest thing – the last time it happened, his parents were both dead and he’d suddenly become a burden to his Aunt May. This time, he was alone, and all of his belongings were forgotten in an alley way or well on their way to being sold in a pawn shop. The fracture to his cheek would eventually heal and probably not affect the way he looked, but when MJ came to pick him up, even that news couldn’t keep him from feeling so very helpless, so very weak. The flannel he’d been wearing that night was the only thing he had left from the before times – the blood stain on the cuff of it the ultimate reminder of what happened and how very hopeless it’d been.

With the help of MJ, Peter physically got on his feet pretty quickly. In all of the chaos, Peter managed to keep his computer software job – which easily paid enough for him to get a modest apartment. An apartment that, for the first time in his life, would be his and only his. The concept was everything Peter wanted – freedom, his voice being the only voice heard, a chance to spread his wings and fly on his own for a while. Yet, in a lot of ways, it felt a little scary to Peter, too. Up until now, he had someone with his interest scheduled into their priority list somewhere. May tried to make him into the son she could never have and Quentin – well, at least he gave Peter somewhere to call home for a while. Truly being on his own, for the very first time in his entire life, it was a little daunting – and made the psychological step of getting back on his feet a little harder.

Getting into the apartment was easy. Peter was pretty smart about the way he spent his money and set his credit up early – so he was set in that aspect. The art of finding comfort in his own place did not come easily, however. Many nights, he called MJ to come walk home from work with him, even if he had to drop money on the fancy Thai food. A long time ago, they’d come to the realization that they were friends and friends only – but having her there, it made him feel better. At least he wasn’t alone and if something were to try and get him, there’d be another person to have his back – to make him feel like he wasn’t the last helpless person on the planet. It was taxing for her, he knew it. MJ’s career was just getting off the ground too and having to come to Peter’s rescue more often than not was nowhere near practical. It seemed like she got it, though – so Peter clung to her as tightly as he could for as long as he could.

MJ presented the idea for Iron Man’s Boxing Gym three months to the date after the attack. Peter was slowly starting to get his comfortability back and it was becoming very clear that he needed just a little bit of a push to take that final step. She thrust the flyer into his hands unexpectedly. They’d been playing Call of Duty and exchanging the control every other death – a flyer for a boxing gym was the last thing he expected to have in his hands when he next looked up. “What’s this, MJ? It looks like we’re only a kill or two away from getting a top spot,” Peter said, his eyes and focus still on the game despite their character’s immobility on the screen. A quick hit of a button and the game was effectively paused, the controller hit the floor and MJ’s hand was pressing against his knee affectionately. “It’s a push in the right direction. I think you should check this place out. You might find that last bit of safety you’re looking for.”

Peter desperately wanted to ignore MJ’s suggestion. In fact, he went three whole days before he pulled the flyer off the floor and straightened it out – the address now readable and just as easy to Google. The place looked clean and the rate wasn’t too out of his price range – why shouldn’t he figure out more about himself behind a pair of boxing gloves? Peter might have been helpless for a point in his life, but he was athletic and with a bit of knowledge – he could probably have that final piece of security in his back pocket to feel better again. Whatever feeling better again actually meant.

The gym ended up being something that looked way better once you got into the door. Since the gym needed so much space, the location was a little out of the way – and for a singular second, Peter let himself feel a little scared. There weren’t any fancy advertisements in the windows or flashing neon signs – Iron Man’s Boxing Gym spoke for itself. Which made a lot of sense when he walked in to see four rows of two boxing rings deep and a whole corner filled with heavy bags with space to dance between them. The makeshift weight room was set up along the back corner – all and all, it screamed Rocky and Peter was immediately hooked. The sign-up process consisted of getting his name and number and putting down a credit card for the lessons done every Wednesday night.

He felt a little silly, standing in the cluster of himself and five others, waiting for his first ever class to start, and yet, at the same time, the good kind of anticipation sat waiting in the depths of his muscles, too. After doing research on all the best ways to wrap a wrist and cover his fingers, Peter was certain he had the proper supplies – he was ready for whatever Boxing 101 had to offer. Peter didn’t really know what to expect walking into the ordeal – but he for sure knew he wasn’t expecting the instructor who bounced into the room to be so goddamn hot. The man was a little older, maybe mid-thirties – and ruggedly handsome. The slightest hint of grey was starting to overtake his temples, and a huge scar stood stagnant above the man’s right eye – the look one that shouted experience and endless practical knowledge. He was hot – so insanely hot.

Settling into the warm-up, Peter noticed that most people were watching the man with a keen eye, both the men and women alike. He couldn’t remember a time when people paid that close of attention to another person – except when they were in the same coffee shop as Eminem, but he was a celebrity. Eyes widening, Peter wondered if the man leading him through a relatively efficient dynamic warm-up was in fact someone he should know – someone that was worth watching so avidly. Soon, the ability to think was no longer within his grasps, and Peter lost track of the thoughts scratching at the front of his mind. By the hundredth time he’d transferred his weight from heel to toe and tripped over the jump rope, Peter’s only thought was surviving and walking out of the place with all of his toes exactly where they should be.

The intense way his t-shirt and hoodie were soaked with sweat made him smile when Peter sat down at the edge of the ring – his first lesson over and done with. He felt completely spent and his elbow was raw from the insane amount of times he’d eaten shit throughout the footwork portion of the 90 minutes – but he couldn’t help but feel totally successful, too. He already felt a little safer in his own skin and he’d barely broken into the basics of what boxing and hand-to-hand combat could entail. He let the last couple drops of the water bottle flow down his neck, eyes closing in a new kind of delight. Peter rested there for another couple of minutes, then went about getting his hands free from the wraps and his feet out of the high laced shoes. Coming down from the ring, Peter was surprised to see the instructor from earlier looking over at him – the older man’s smile wide and inviting.

“You’re a new face. I hope you enjoyed yourself,” the man said – his hand out between them before Peter could even process the words. “I’m Tony Stark, you’ve got quite the left hook.” Tony’s eyes were on him, the look one of curiosity and genuine interest. Peter returned the handshake after a second, his brain short-circuiting slightly – the man really was insanely handsome. “Nice to know you, Tony. I’m Peter – Peter Parker. Glad to hear I didn’t look like a total idiot out there,” Peter kept the hand in his for a second longer, than let it drop – the smile on his face cool, despite the developing feeling of freak out that was swimming in his chest. “You’re a natural, Peter Parker – we’ll have you dancing around the ring in no time,” Tony replied coolly, his smile growing. A hand with a large palm and long fingers reached up to brush through the hair on Tony’s temple and he was hooked.

Peter felt his face heat as they shared a look – one that lingered for who knows how long. He forced himself to tear his eyes away and get the hell out of there. He’d be damned if he made a fool out of himself so soon into meeting this guy. “Here’s hoping. I’ll see you next week, Tony,” Peter felt himself hold his breath as he walked away, a weaker part of him screaming to turn around and flirt, flirt, flirt – the vibe he was getting was absolutely attraction. Instead, he kept his eyes down and only let himself breath when he was out the door. Holy fuck, Peter thought to himself, maybe this whole boxing experience would be a lot better than he initially expected.

----

Tony watched with avid attention as the attractive, yet incredibly strange young man kept coming back to the gym. Picking up that certain Wednesday class happened purely by accident. Happy slept through an alarm and grumpily guilted Tony into covering for him. It’d been a long time since he’d done anything in a bigger than one-to-one setting and it took a couple weeks to get into the flow of it. Most of the people were probably there to catch of a glimpse of what a retired MMA fighter looked like or see what a washed-up athlete did for a living once they were no longer young and spry – primped and ready for action. Most people would be surprised to know that retired athletes lived the exact way they’d done their whole career – just without the notoriety and fame.

After the third week of letting his eyes catch the vision that was Peter Parker moving easily throughout the ring, Tony figured there was another thing contributing to his enjoyment of these classes, too. For whatever reason, the older man could not stop himself from watching Peter. Despite not having much footwork knowledge, the guy was pretty good with his hands and very fast. Whenever they did bag drills, Peter’s hands moved a mile a minute – the sight of it hypnotizing, reminding Tony of the original reason he let himself get lost in the boxing world so long ago. Sometimes, it just felt good to hit things. The more comfortable Peter seemed to become, the better he got – a thing that did not go unnoticed by Tony. For the most part, his idea to offer training to Peter on an individual basis came from a purely innocent level. It seemed like he wanted to learn about boxing, and he had the skill and the modicum of potential it took to at least try to be good – why shouldn’t Tony extend the help?

The answer to that question came a couple minutes later when Tony felt his eyes roaming over that delicious back side – the man bent over to tie his shoes, the wraps on his hands making it a comedic performance instead of the simple task that it was. The uncontrolled part of Tony yearned to walk over there and bend down – take a knee in front of Peter to tie his shoe and see what it was like to see the other man from that position. The dryness in his mouth was a little silly – it hadn’t been that long since he’d gotten laid. Although, it had been a long time since the craving for another person like this reared its ugly head. He could still feel the ghost of Steve’s hands covering his skin – on the days he lets himself think too much about it, it’s almost like the man is still there. Shaking his head, Tony ran the last couple of drills before gathering the remaining four people around – his face heavy with a genuine smile.

“Good work today, guys. It has been pretty cool to watch you all develop. I think it’s time to put what we’ve been learning into some practical situations – so next week, we’ll be partner sparing in the ring. You guys are ready, and it’ll be the first real experience with what boxing is really like.” Tony could see all the smiles that came from his words and felt good about the suggestion. There wasn’t a written curriculum for this sort of thing and the move felt right – so he went with it. He’d let Happy off the hook with the class after that first week, the least he could do is come in and act as a ring coach, or something. For the first time since retirement, Tony felt good about something. Funny that it took stepping back and watching a bunch of beginners succeed.

Everyone started to pack up not long after that, each person leaving with a quick nod Tony’s direction, or a high five for the friendlier guy of the group. The gym emptied out quickly until it was just Tony and Peter – this week’s occurrence not amongst the first time. “Hey, Pete. Want to work a little extra? I’ve got some time to hold the pads for you,” the words were out of Tony’s mouth before he could stop himself. He couldn’t pinpoint what made him decide to extend the offer, but the smile on Peter’s face when he saw the guy nodding made the impulse worth it. Even if his arms were tired from fatigue and a hamburger from Bucky’s down the street was calling his name. “Sure, Tony – I could use a little extra practice.” Peter’s voice was bright, like he was filled with a never-ending amount of energy and goodness. Smiling to himself, Tony nodded and grabbed the striking pads – decision made.

Bouncing on his toes, he instructed a one-two punch with the left hand leading, the man in front of him obviously better on his left side. Peter went through the drill easily, the slap of the pads loud in the otherwise empty gym. “So, what brought you here, Peter Parker?” Tony asked in the break between switching feet – Peter was talented and could probably keep up a conversation while moving around. Unsurprisingly, Peter hit the pad a little harder and started to speak. “I got some of my safety stripped from me, so I wanted to get it back,” the other man answered simply. Tony shifted onto the back of his foot and dropped the pads, his arms heavy by his sides. “Sounds about right. Glad you decided to come do it here. Are you feeling any better? Safer, I mean?” Tony fired back, his shoulders rolling before he had the pads back up and they were moving around the ring again.

The other’s focus was on the pads for a couple silent moments, Tony counting the breaths between each hit – the man glad that Peter listened when he instructed them on breathing rhythm a couple weeks ago. His eyes were alight watching the rhythmic beat of Peter’s fists against the meat of the pad. “Yeah, a lot, actually. To be honest, this is the best I’ve ever felt. It feels nice to just – let go and hit something every now and again, you know?” Peter’s words were enhanced with more punches to the pad, the guy throwing strikes freestyle. Tony nodded at the rhetorical question and kept his hands firmly in front of his face, if he wasn’t careful, he’d take one right to the cheek. The heaviness of his feet and hands had him holding up the gloves in surrender a few minutes later, the sweat on his chest making him feel cold – the lack of carbohydrates and water becoming very evident. “I think that’s it for me, Petey. Good work.”

It was easy to climb out of the ring after Peter and collapse back against the side of it, his entire body in the clutches of fatigue. The feeling was the best and Tony let it wash over him and hold him under – the worst part of being retired was the lack of rush that could only come from getting somewhere when there was nothing left to get there with. On the verge of shutting down fatigue was the only way he even got close – so he reveled in it, the quake of his muscles the most intoxicating thing he’d felt in ages. “Any chance you like greasy cheeseburgers?” Tony asked after a while, the man gathering enough energy to get the padded gloves off his hands and his ring shoes off his feet – the sweaty remains of his clothes the only reminder of the past three hours spent. Tony waddled over to the open door of his office and started to take of his sleeveless hoodie before he heard Peter speak. “Do you know people that don’t like greasy cheeseburgers?” Looking up, Tony stopped short, the vision of Peter leaning into the open doorway of his office tantalizing – on the verge of ‘should be illegal’.

Tony fumbled with the spare shirt he brought in his gym bag and shrugged into it, the Ugg slippers he always wore after the fact on his feet, the comforting warmth of the lining really the only way to feel relaxed after exerting his body so. “I’m sure they’re out there. I try not to spend too much time with them, though – “ Tony muttered his reply, his hands busy shrugging a flannel on and shouldering his bag. “There’s a great place just down the street. Want to come? I’ll buy you a milkshake.” Tony reached a hand out and grabbed the younger guy’s arm, his fingers lingering for a second. He let his hand drop and walked out the door, his body now turned towards Peter completely. “That sounds like a hard thing to pass on. I’m in,” Peter replied and brushed passed him, the touch from earlier fully returned. Tony grinned and leaned forward to pull the door closed, locking it when he heard the latch click.

“I knew you were smart,” Tony fiddled with the keys in his hands while he spoke, the tactile distraction enough to keep the threatening blush at bay. “Buck makes a patty melt that will knock you on your ass. It’s the best in the city.” It didn’t hurt that Bucky was one of his closest friends, or that when Bucky came back from the desert – Tony welcomed him back with open arms and the helping hand he needed to open the greasy spoon. There were many things people did not know about Tony Stark – things like how generous he was, things like how close he kept his friends – how well he took care of them. While he and Peter walked closely together on the Brooklyn streets, Tony got a feeling that Peter was going to be one of those people – a somebody he kept close, took care of. Bumping his shoulder into the other man’s, Tony figured there were worse things in life.

Like, for instance – a lack of fried potatoes to go with the admittedly delicious collection of toasted sourdough, all beef patties, and the perfect combination of thousand island dressing, mayo, and fried onions. The lack of fries brought the experience way down – though, didn’t seem to effect Peter Parker a single bit. His mother always told him the way to someone’s heart was through their stomach – and she didn’t seem to be wrong now. Peter enjoyed life to the fullest and let every piece of food rest in his mouth before he chewed it – the savoring of each flavor obvious, and totally distracting. When he swallowed it, the impatient puppy masked twenty-something took another eager bite – the man never going a time when he didn’t look like a chipmunk storing nuts. The whole thing made Tony’s heart beat a little faster – and admittedly made him a little sick, but the affection of the moment easily won out.

“What do you do when you’re not hitting people for fun?” Peter asked through a mouthful of chocolate shake. “I like to dabble with car parts and watch shit TV, to be honest with you,” Tony replied, his mouth equally full – the words the most honest ones Tony could remember saying to another person. He saw Peter light up at the mention of car parts and the rest of their time together was spent between discussing what it was like to take apart an entire vehicle and put it back together. Peter said he always wanted to try it but never had the space to do so and hung on every one of Tony’s words. By the time he was waving to Peter heading in the opposite direction, Tony knew he was done for – the thought both terrifying and exciting all at once.

Shaking his head, Tony ran a hand through his hair and headed back towards the gym – a delighted hitch in his step evident the entire way back.

----

Peter waited anxiously for the following Wednesday. Following his impromptu meal with Tony, Peter found himself slung over the end of MJ’s bed, gushing about the entire interaction. Harboring a seemingly one-sided crush was one thing. Since his first lesson, they’d been debating Tony’s actions towards Peter and were still on the fence – but he felt pretty sure about it now. Dancing around another person wasn’t usually his thing – the uncertainty gave him anxiety, and that was never any fun. Peter found himself craving the steady rock from his toes to the balls of his feet, though – the man enjoying what boxing had to offer in all ways possible. He felt safer, that was for sure – he was probably in the best shape of his life and could now successfully throw a punch without breaking anything. More confidence came each week, his fists hitting the bag with more force and speed – each punch more efficient than the last. It didn’t hurt that he could feel chocolate brown eyes roaming him appreciatively, either – the touch of them merely adding fuel to his fire.

The more confident Peter felt in the ring, the more confident he felt elsewhere, too. His job was going spectacularly well, his boss even considering him for a promotion he wasn’t even sure he qualified for. It felt good to get up and go to work, his office a place where he excelled – and the freedom of actually believing in his strength brought along so many things Peter never knew he was missing. He felt so good going into Wednesday’s class, the determination to ask Tony out settled into his mind and became more permanent of a decision the closer the day got. Peter couldn’t recall a time he felt this good – and he wanted to include all the aspects of life in that, including the personal bit he’d been purposefully avoiding since the bitterly disappointing ending of his previous relationship. A grin came to his face any time he thought about what being out with Tony would be like – the man’s mystery keeping all the possibilities misted with the slightest tinge of uncertainty. The old Peter wouldn’t have appreciated not knowing – he understood the curious rush of not knowing now, though. He understood it and was quickly becoming addicted.

An invigorating feeling rushed over Peter when he walked into Iron Man’s Wednesday night. He managed to get his wrists taped exactly the way he liked him – the simple act leaving him feeling pretty damn good. Getting into his shoes and hand wraps was easy by then, the process just as relaxing as the pull of breath in and out while he punched – Peter settling into that easily when he got in front of one of the heavy bags to warm up. His feet felt a little heavy from the lack of movement throughout the day, but the sluggish feeling quickly wore off and he was moving seamlessly around the bag – totally lost in thought. The best part of boxing for Peter over the past couple months of attending the classes was the fact that he could just let go – there weren’t many places for Peter to do that. Something told him more than one thing in the boxing gym would give him that – but he’d be patient and see how it played out.

There turned out to be only three people that day – so Peter ended up sparring with Happy, the other owner of Iron Man’s Boxing Gym. The man was a few years older than his co-owner, though his arms were still heavily muscled, and his reaction time came as easily as the next trained boxer. It felt surprising, to do so well in the ring with someone of Happy’s size and abilities. Peter expected to be ass over face on the mat – tripping over his feet in the worst of ways, or something. Yet, he moved pretty easily, navigating the tarp of the ring like he’d been learning it intricately for weeks (which, well – he kind of had.) The few punches Happy was able to land were going to ache and there’d be bruising – but the satisfying way the older man held up a hand in defeat would forever be one of his favorite memories. The first taste of success was luscious – so delightful in fact, Peter found himself wanting more.

“Up for a tumble in here, Stark?” Peter asked, his upper half leaning against the ropes of the ring, a bottle of water in his hand. “I want to see what good foot work looks like,” Peter’s quip was met by the middle finger from Happy and a solid snort from Tony. The man didn’t waste another second and got suited up – his boxing gloves a dark red, the color a nice contrast to the dark blue of Peter’s own. They hit fists in the middle of the ring and then Tony was moving forward swinging. Pete didn’t stand a chance and laughed heartily when he hit the mat for the fifth time in a row – his ass tender and body sore from the few hits he managed to take before getting swept off his feet. When he threw up his hand, Tony tossed off the gloves and helped Peter up, a shit eating grin on his face. “You’re not half bad, Parker. Get your kit off and come to the office, I’ll give you some ice for that eye of yours.” Tony pointed towards the rapidly swelling shiner he was sporting – the evidence of a fight well fought.

Peter couldn’t keep the grin from his face as he got out of his shoes and unwrapped the stupid amount of protective stuff around his wrists. He needed his hands to do his work and knew the precautions were silly – but they made him feel better, so he did them, anyway. Finally done and in a clean shirt, Peter’s eye was starting to throb – Tony’s proffered ice would be a welcome addition to ease the pulsing ache in his face. This time, though – he didn’t feel helpless, he felt strong and the bruise was another reminder of how far he’d come. Entering into the office, he was met with the same sight from last week – Tony Stark without a shirt, sweat clinging to him. He couldn’t decide if the man did it on purpose, but the sight was worth the confusion – he’d watched many pornos that started just like this. Biting his tongue, Peter felt himself color at the thought, oh how he wished that was true.

Instead, a break and use ice pack was tossed his direction – the coolness of it hitting him immediately. “Thanks, Tony,” Peter mumbled gratefully, his eyes closing to soak in the relief. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone move that fast before. What did you do before you owned this gym? You must have boxed, right?” Peter asked, the sound a little muffled by the ice pack against his face. He sat on the one chair in the office, a huff leaving his lips. “My friend MJ told me I should Google you, but I thought you might tell me about it, instead.” He bit his lip to stifle the laugh that tried to escape – Tony’s eyebrow shot up, the man stopping himself halfway through the process of putting his shirt on. “You’re telling me you don’t know who I am, Peter Parker?” Tony shook his head and smiled wide – “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

The older man shifted and got the shirt on – a rush of disappointment running down Peter’s spine at the loss of the sight. He shifted a little, his eyes taking in Tony’s movement, the man leaned against the edge of his desk – his crossed arms pressing the muscles of his arms up, giving them more shape. Sucking in a breath, Pete forced himself to focus – though it was getting harder by the second. “I boxed professionally until the MMA craze hit – then I changed shit up and got my ass beat for the big bucks for a few years. It’s all fun and games until you fuck up your back enough to warrant either fighting more or walking the rest of your life.” One of Tony’s hands moved through the scruff on his chin, his fingernails brushing back and forth against it. A nervous gesture, a tick he can’t control – so odd a sight coming from such a well put together man. “Now, I teach cute characters like you how to box. Which, you’re pretty good at, by the way. Sorry about your eye.”

Digesting all the information, Peter let the ice pack drop from his eye – a couple blinks bringing his vision back into dual eye focus again. “I kind of like it. I earned this one. Besides, don’t act like I didn’t get a couple of good shots in on you. I saw that bruise on your side,” Peter gestured towards the left side of Tony’s body with the ice pack in his hand. “I’ll sign it, if you want.” They both laughed at that and Tony took a couple steps towards Peter, a hand reaching out to grab the ice pack. Peter gave it up easily and then let out a surprised huff when that same hand grabbed his and pulled a second later. Coming to his feet, Peter’s entire body started to flush, the feeling of Tony pressed up against him better than any fantasy he’d been dreaming up the past couple of weeks. “Maybe you can just kiss it better, instead?” Tony’s words were barely audible, the space between them diminished down to nothing but the distance of a shared breath.

There wasn’t any reason to waste the opportunity he’d been given, so Peter pressed in and closed the distance between them. He assumed he read the room right and got a very nice confirmation when the echo of a moan could be felt against his lips. Peter wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck and pulled him closer, his fingers tangling in the strands that were still wet with sweat. Tilting his head, Peter deepened the kiss, a soft groan of his own leaving his lips.

The sound leaving his lips left just enough room for Tony to slip the tip of his tongue into the warmth of Peter’s mouth. Their tongues tangled together, the sweet heat of taste and warmth overwhelming – disorienting in all the right ways. It was obvious that Tony’s plan was to map out every inch of his mouth – so Peter let him, his lips and skin tingling in all the places that the older man touched or pressed against. Peter hadn’t experienced such sensory overload since his teens – it felt a little silly to be so hard pressed already.

Tony pulled away first, their lips breaking apart suddenly – then little chaste pecks were placed against Peter’s lips. It was hard to catch his breath between all of the stimulus, but Pete tried his best – his entire body on fire, the overload of it all fresh and new, exciting in its intoxication. “That could probably be arranged. Want to go grab some food first?” Peter tightened the fingers in Tony’s hair for a second, bringing their faces together for another kiss with the grip. “I know the perfect place.” Tony nodded and slotted their lips together for a handful of soft barely there caresses. “I would love to grab food at this perfect place. Is what I’m wearing okay? I didn’t think I’d be doing anything other than walking to Buck’s.” He felt Tony brush their noses together before the older man pulled away – creating a little space between them to cool things down, take them back to a place where control was still the name of the game.

“You look great,” Peter replied easily, and followed the older man out of the office.

As Native New Yorkers, neither drove a car around, so they set off towards one of Peter’s main haunts on foot.

----

Enjoying the night air with Peter by his side helped to ease some of the boiling heat still threatening to overrun all the control systems in his brain. It was a little cool, and the sneaky brushes of their arms together every few steps were just on the right side of too cute. The saccharine sweet nature of it making his head spin. It didn’t take long for them to stop in front of a small looking building that was darkly lit on the outside, but the flash of neon lights could be seen through the windows. “I haven’t been to Two-Bits in forever!” Tony exclaimed, noticing the name on the door. Opening it and walking in, Tony was instantly brought back to a summer night a couple years ago. He beat Happy’s ass at Tekken and they drank the rest of the night away taking turns playing Silent Hill. It’d been years, but there were fond memories of the little bar. The fact that the seemingly marvelous Peter Parker decided it was first date material – well, that just might mean he’s the one.

The look on Peter’s face might have sealed the deal, too. He could see the joy of doing at least this part of the date right radiating from his eyes – Tony understanding the pressure of picking the most suitable location. Boldly, he reached out and grabbed the younger man’s hand, knotting their fingers together. “Good idea, Pete.” He stayed upfront and pressed a kiss to their joined fingers – a smile on his face at the blush that creeped up into the swell of Peter’s cheeks. “You must’ve known I was looking to beat your ass twice in one day,” Tony broke the cute moment with a little joke – typical Stark style. It didn’t matter, though – Peter let a gasping laugh fall from his lips. He watched the other man shake his head before he was getting tugged inside, both of them now eager, eager and ready to spend time together and see if their spark went a little further than dancing around the ring and casual small talk.

Peter was a good host and got them a couple drinks right off the bat. The bar didn’t do too much in the way of organized food, so they grabbed a couple of appetizers and spent most of their time waiting for sustenance playing the Back to the Future pinball machine nestled in the corner. There weren’t many people that were able to keep up with Tony video game wise, but the second time Peter got a score higher than his, he conceded that Peter was in fact an equal – if not better than him. The food was a good break from the intensity of their competitiveness and begrudgingly delicious. “How did you get so good at pinball? I’ve never had someone not only beat me, but actually kick my ass,” Tony mumbled halfway through a cheese stick – his entire body on fire from the feeling of excitement. Excitement from being out with Peter, excitement from spending a whole night playing video games – hell, excitement from simply enjoying time with another human being.

“The bodega I worked at during high school had an old pinball machine – and the place was never busy. Del Mar would give us each a quarter and let us play until there weren’t any balls left from that quarter. I got so good that I would spend entire shifts behind the pinball machine instead of doing my actual job. He stopped giving us quarters after a while, but I never stopped playing. My dormmate at MIT and I spent a bit of money and had a machine in our room for the couple years we lived together,” Peter didn’t take a breath the entire time he talked, his eyes glowing with the memories of the good times in his life – Tony liked the look, it was stupidly suiting for the precious guy sitting in front of him. “You hustler, you,” Tony replied after a while. He shot a wink in Peter’s direction and was delighted with the blush that came creeping up that pale skin. “To be fair, you let me pick the game. Who picks a game they’re shitty at when they’re trying to impress someone?” The question sat between them for a second, the meaning of it creeping under Tony’s skin. “Consider me impressed already, Peter Parker. You can let me win the next few games.”

And he did – at least, Tony figured that was the case. They moved on to Galaga – which Tony played often in what the kids today would call vintage arcades. He grew up on the game and it wasn’t surprising that he racked up the points. Peter didn’t attempt to step in and take the controls, either – the man seemed more than willing to stand by Tony’s side and watch with glee. Then, they went head to head in Ms. Pac-Man, the kid’s hand-eye coordination was a little better than his at that point, so he conceded defeat after a well fought third game in which they both finished with sweat on their brows and huge smiles on their faces. When they moved on to the next game, Tony let himself be pulled close by an arm around his waist – he threw his own arm around Peter and narrowed the distance between them even more. “This is a lot of fun,” he murmured, the words more than likely lost in the jumble of Peter’s hair. His lips lingered to press a soft kiss against the side of Pete’s head. The words were true, too. Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed himself so much.

They finished the night at the punching bag game – which made a lot of sense, all things considering. Tony watched Peter pull a hand back and hit the bag pretty hard – though his technique was all wrong. “Do that again. This time don’t swing back like you’re trying to throw a baseball. Go square through it – like you’re trying to get a punch in right down the shoot.” As he spoke, Tony moved enough to be able to get behind Peter, his hands wrapping around the man’s limbs until he was shadowing the other completely. “If you imagine that’s my face – I bet it’ll make things easier.” Tony’s words were mixed with a laugh and he felt Peter shiver in his embrace. A soft smile played across his lips and he let himself soak up the feel of Peter against him while he took him through the flow of the movement – the last couple passes a bit gratuitous, if he were being honest.

The look of pure joy on Pete’s face when he doubled his score with the next quarter was totally worth it. He watched the younger man pump his fist in the air and dance from foot to foot – his victory chant ending abruptly when he swung his arms around Tony’s neck and pulled him into a tight embrace. “You’re the best teacher I’ve had, Tony. You make it seem so easy. Thank you.” Peter looked at him the entire time he spoke, the intensity of his gaze almost overwhelming – though Tony hoped this wasn’t the only time he’d get to understand this feeling. Tony wrapped his strong arms around Pete’s hips and kept them both in the embrace. “You’re welcome. I’ve been in the nitty gritty – it’s easier to impart wisdom when you’ve been in the shit. I’m just glad there’s smart guys like you that actually like what I’m putting out there.” They shared a smile and Peter nodded; his eyes still bright – the shine in them so easy to get hooked on.

“I think I just like you,” Peter said in a whisper, the space between them minimal, each word bouncing off Tony’s skin instead of sounding in his ears first. “I like you and I think coming to class to see you – to watch you do your thing – that’s been the best part of this. Learning how to protect myself was the original purpose, but now I think I want to learn more about you, too. Does that sound okay? I’ve had a lot of fun tonight and think we could probably spend nights like this having even more fun.” Peter finished his thought by pressing their lips together. The touch was chaste, and Tony didn’t have enough time to even respond – but it was perfect all the same. To think he started today thinking he might ask Pete to Bucky’s again – that he might try and get a read on Peter’s interest. He never thought he’d be here – wrapped up in Pete’s embrace – on the verge of getting to do this more than just one time. What a concept. “It sounds perfect, Pete.”

Tony leaned forward and pressed their lips together again, the same chaste nature of the kiss there – they didn’t spend much time actually letting themselves get comfortable in the affection, they were in public after all. Though he needed to pull away to keep himself under control, Tony kept a hand on Peter for the rest of the night. He didn’t beat up on the guy like he figured he would – Peter was unsurprisingly very good at all the games he led Tony to, but the time he spent losing was the best use of 120 minutes he’d ever experienced. Leaving the spot, Tony was almost reluctant. The night was too good to end – so, he clung to it just a little while longer. “Could I walk you home? I’ve had such a good time tonight, I don’t think I’m ready for it to end,” Tony hated to admit something like that – hated to let someone else see any sort of weakness, but sometimes it felt kind of good to step outside his comfort zone and actually try for something he wanted for a change. “Yeah, you can definitely walk me home, Tony.”

The slim fingers between his own felt right – like their fingers were perfectly meant to fit together. The thought made him squeeze those fingers, the contact drawing a lifted brow from Peter. “This side of you surprises me,” the other said, breaking the easy silence between them. “A big part of me thought you’d be all reserved like you are in class. Like maybe you’d crack a smile or something, but you’re – y’know, a sweetheart.” Tony chuckled at that, Peter’s observation wasn’t wrong, though – the last time he’d been called a sweetheart, he was five and was pretending he didn’t just break a thousand-dollar vase.

Most people quickly found out he was not that sweetheart and left him to his gruff nature. Peter didn’t seem like the type to be easily ran off, however. He’d seen a couple different sides to Tony and so far, he didn’t seem too disturbed by them. “You’ll have to keep that last part a secret. I’ll lose all my street cred if you go around saying stuff like that too much,” Tony’s response was a default one, a thought he figured Peter was aware of. He felt a similar squeeze to his fingers and heard a soft chuckle as a reply. “Your secret is safe with me, Tony Stark.”

Peter didn’t invite him up. Instead, he pulled the hand he’d been holding to him and produced a pen out of nowhere – the digits that ran across the palm of his hand were thankfully enough to be a phone number. He capped the pen and pressed a kiss to the palm of Tony’s hand, right over the numbers. “If you’re up for it, I’d love to see you again. Now, you know how to reach me,” Peter kept Tony’s hand in his the entire time he spoke, the tone in his voice saucy – just on the right side of flirty. Tony couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from his chest and the smile that remained was one he’d quickly come to find belonged solely to Peter. “You got it. Thanks for tonight, Pete. I had a great time.” The words were easy and the way they moved together to seal their lips in a kiss was even easier.

----

That Friday found the two of them together again, this time, at Coney Island. They rode the teacups until Tony was puking up the two corndogs he’d shoveled into his mouth when they first walked in – it was absolutely perfect. When Tony walked Peter up to his door, the man did not invite him in again. The other’s lips were fleeting and this time – the kind of teasing that said there were things to come, things that were totally worth the wait. The rest of the weekend was spent texting back and forth – and Sunday night ended with Peter falling asleep on the phone, the sound of his soft snores the thing that lulled Tony to sleep himself. Meeting up again on Monday, Tony could feel the shift between them. Peter’s touches were much more determined, and the air felt charged – for whatever reason, it felt like they’d reached a new level.

Which made a lot of sense when this time, Peter did invite Tony in. In fact, Peter’s lips and hands were demanding the second they cleared the threshold of the apartment’s entrance. For the first time in many, many years, Tony thought he might not be patient enough to get his clothes off before he came all over himself. Luckily, Peter lived on the fourth floor and the flights of stairs were not a ridiculous task to take on. They only ended up pressed against the wall twice – quite the feat considering how far Peter’s tongue was down his throat and how much Tony wanted to plaster him to the wall and take what he’d been thinking about for longer than he cared to admit. A sigh of relief fell from Tony’s lips when Peter was able to get the key in the door. Of course, he probably could have stopped peppering the man’s neck with kisses and halt all the distractions – but where was the fun in that?

With the space between them still existent, Peter took advantage and stripped his shirt off – the garment and his house keys flying across the room with a careless flip of his wrist. Tony only got far enough to close the door, slip his shoes off and get his socks from his feet before Peter was back in his space, demanding his focus and attention. Things that Tony were totally into giving to the other – his hands wrapped around Peter’s hips and grabbed greedily at the globes of his ass. The move pulled them flush together and he felt the heat of Peter’s excitement against his thigh. “I haven’t felt this much anticipation since I was a teenager. I both can’t wait to fuck you and want to drag it out as much as I can. You drive me crazy, Peter Parker. Absolutely crazy,” Tony broke away from the other just long enough to get the words out and as he spoke, he pulled his own shirt off. The press of their chests together pulled a joint moan from both men – the sound getting lost between them. Tony didn’t have a clue where they were going, so he let his attention move to the planes of Peter’s skin, each inch of it a feast of unmarred flesh and subtleties that made up the man in his arms.

A little more fumbling found them down the hall, finally ensconced in the comfort of Pete’s bedroom. The bed was a decently sized queen and the right kind of firm. Tony was surprised to feel himself be pressed back against the bed, but he didn’t fight it – he liked the weight of Peter across his lap, the strong legs the other was building through his time boxing were hard and clenching where they were wrapped around him. Peter gasped when Tony thrust up against him, the open button of his jeans the only thing bringing any semblance of relief. At least his cock wasn’t hard as nails and pressed against the teeth of his jeans. “We’re wearing way too many clothes. Take them off, will you?” Tony mumbled against Peter’s lips, the two on an oxygen break between kisses. He felt the other nod and watched with wide eyes as Peter got up off of Tony and onto his feet on the floor. The process wasn’t slow and seductive – but no less sexy, regardless. Peter pulled his jeans off first and kicked them away – the socks and boxers combination way more adorable than it should have been. His boxers came off next and the confident way he stood there butt ass naked was the cherry on top.

Tony didn’t wait to disrobe himself once he caught sight of the entire package in front of him. Pete’s limbs were long and well-muscled – the definition not nearly as severe as Tony’s, but there all the same and perfect for the smaller body. His stomach rippled with each breath – Tony promised himself that he’d learn what it felt like to have those muscles bump against his face while he licked every inch of each one of them. The best part, though, was the subtle blush that tracked across Pete’s cheeks and forehead, down his chest and pecs, until it stopped just above Peter’s groin. The crimson flush was the perfect map of Peter’s arousal and manifested into a thick erection that was pressed straight out in all its dignified glory. A swell of spit flooded into Tony’s mouth; his entire body eager to finally get a taste.

Now naked and entirely too impatient, Tony shifted until he could reach out and grab Peter, his hands greedy in the way he pulled the other back on the bed. This time, he instructed that muscled back to press against the mattress and settled between the v of Pete’s thighs. A surprised gasp slipped through his teeth at the feel of their erections slipping together – the first nude touch of heated flesh absolutely divine. Tony distracted himself with Peter’s skin and attacked it with his lips – his tongue made the tracks and his lips followed along the path. At the end of this, he wouldn’t be surprised if Peter was littered with red marks and bites from the eagerness of Tony’s affections.

“Fuck, Tony. More – touch me, put your mouth on me. Anything,” Peter’s words were panted out, broken in their delivery. A flash of goosebumps spread across Tony’s skin and he felt himself moan again. “What do you want? What can I give you Pete?” The response was immediate, and Tony wasn’t sure how much he needed to hear the answer until the words were out in the open. He didn’t know too much about dealing with feelings or mastering this type of relationship – he couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t beat his way out of any type of situation that dealt with more complex feelings than hunger. The simple fact that Tony didn’t want to hurt a single hair on Peter’s head spoke volumes, though. Even an emotionally stunted person like Tony knew importance came with caring – and damn did he care about Pete. The feeling crept up on him and now that it was out in the open, it felt right.

Peter’s mumbled out request to be fucked made Tony chuckle against his skin and tap on his hip. “Turn over, Petey. Your ass is too delicious to not get a taste,” Tony said, his entire body flushing from the dirtiness of his words. The truth of the matter was, however, that Tony wanted a taste of every inch of him and intended to do just that – eventually. His focus now was the beautiful length of Peter’s back and the crease between pert cheeks – each globe of Pete’s ass a marvel in and of itself. Tony started by running his hands along what seemed like miles of skin, the muscles under his fingers twitching each time he caught a sensitive part of Peter’s flesh. His fingers continued moving until they were between those beautiful cheeks, both thumbs pulling them apart to reveal Pete’s clenched pucker. Teasingly, Tony huffed out a warm breath just to watch the muscles flinch and clench – the flutter of that hole like a straight shot to his already aching cock. The pad of his right thumb traced around the muscle and pressed in ever so slightly. The gasp from Peter made his entire body shift and suck in more of Tony’s thumb. This time, it was Tony’s turn to moan.

Done with the teasing, Tony tucked in – his tongue circling the hole first, then pressing in like he’d done with his thumb. He couldn’t help the way his hips thrust forward, his untouched cock yearning for a little bit of friction. The cold air kept him in check, though – each squeeze of Peter’s ass around his tongue was almost too much and the contrasting sensations kept him just on the right side of the edge. Peter was incredibly responsive, the sounds leaving his lips like music to Tony’s ears – and incredibly distracting to boot. Each one sent a solid ball of arousal bouncing down the maze of his insides, pulling him closer and closer to that precipice. By the time Tony could fit most of his tongue and a finger into Peter’s tight heat, both of them were delusional with want – Peter was thrusting back against Tony’s face, and the older man was using his free hand to press a barely there touch to his cock, just enough to take the edge off.

“Lube and condoms?” Tony said after removing himself from his now favorite spot, his goatee totally soaked with his own spit – the man known to be enthusiastic in everything he did, eating out included. A hand shot out and pointed towards the one bedside table in the room, Peter’s hips were still thrusting back against him – the man obviously totally done for. Tony didn’t spend much time prepping any further, either. He lubed up two of his fingers and slowly let them slip inside Peter’s tight heat. The stretch felt like fire burning, slow to start then suddenly overwhelming. He pulled his fingers back out and scissored them, the motion pulling a long shout from the man below him. “Fuck – fuck! I need you, Tony – please,” Peter was practically begging, the wantonness of it too much. Tony pulled his fingers free after another couple of passes in and out. Peter felt stretched enough and he was quickly losing himself. This man would be the death of him – the passion and want seeping out from all of his pores was everything Tony hadn’t known he wanted.

Entering Peter felt like coming home. He felt a little cheesy thinking that, his higher brain functions a little out the door now that carnality was finally winning. Yet, it was the only way to describe how easily their bodies joined together and how good they looked when Tony glanced down and stared at the place where they were joined completely. His cock pulsed, the way they looked stupidly attractive and so hard to look away from. Flipping Peter over so he could see his face was one thing – this sight was something else completely. A clench around him brought him back, though – those beautiful hands pulled his face down and they were kissing. Tony got lost in the caress of their mouths and his hips moved on their own accord. Pete’s legs were wrapped tightly around him and he moved seamlessly with Tony – each coordinated drag of their bodies making the big finale inevitable and coming sooner than either was ready for.

Tony didn’t think he could experience something that would change him but watching Peter cum was a new experience. The pinch at the corner of his eyes and the way his mouth dropped wide open was – it was enough to pull him right over the edge with him. Tony forced his eyes to stay open as long as possible, he wanted to remember this experience. The force of his orgasm eventually forced his eyes to shut and the intensity of it had him burying his face into the crook of Peter’s neck. “Holy fuck,” Tony gasped out, his entire body drained, each limb heavy with satisfaction.

He felt Peter’s arms wrap around him and a kiss pressed to the side of his head in answer.

----

We held on tight, for dear life.

In a lot of ways, dating Tony Stark didn’t change much of anything for Peter. His job demanded the same amount of attention, he got to see MJ a couple times a week, and Wednesday’s were always spent in Iron Man’s Boxing Gym. Of course, in the time between Wednesday’s and his hangouts with MJ, Peter spent most of his time in Tony’s company. When they weren’t in the gym, they were hanging around the small garage Tony kept all of his projects in and when they weren’t doing that, they were tangled up together in some way. Whether that was at Two-Bits getting their arcade fix or on Tony’s big sectional couch not paying attention to Breaking Bad on the flat screen tv – things were good. Peter couldn’t remember ever being treated in the way Tony did – like he was something worth having in his life. Tony went out of his way to make him feel good, if not great on those better days. There were a lot of things different between them, but that kept things interesting. For the first time in a long time, Peter felt cared about. Cared about in a way that made him feel safe and sound – like Tony would be there if he ever needed him.

Which, Peter did – lots of times. The closer it got to the anniversary of the attack, the more nightmares and flashbacks Peter found himself having. He tried to pull back from everyone, to divest them of the burden of his emotional instability. For a while, he figured being by himself was much more important than having people that cared about him. Tony didn’t let that thought remain for very long, though. The second time Peter missed Wednesday night class, Tony was there knocking on his door. He tried to disguise his worry with a styrofoam bowl of chicken noodle soup and inquiries about him being sick – but Peter could see a little bit of sadness and terror in the other man’s eyes.

In all of his worrying and dragging himself away, Peter didn’t think for a second how any of his actions might have affected Tony. At that point, they’d been together close to six months – and a sudden disappearance would have worried anyone that attached. For the first time in 14 days, Peter stepped aside and let someone in. Holding him in his arms later that night, Tony pressed a kiss to the side of his head and whispered another something that would change Peter forever. “Don’t push me away, okay? I’ll be here. I care about you, Petey. I’ll be here.”

The following few weeks were much better for Peter and the times he thought about pulling away – Tony kept him grounded. Instead of turning away, Tony taught him to take his anger out on something that couldn’t hit back – so, he took to swinging at the heavy bag whenever he got the chance. Tony’s classes were teaching him the art of boxing – Tony’s private lessons taught him the art of decompression and how to unleash anger in the most productive of ways. Every time he let himself get lost in the sound of his fists hitting the bag, Peter would resurface and feel so much better.

Sometimes Tony joined him – he would hold the bag and throw taunts his way or camp out at the bag next to him and add to the sound of fists and hitting and the bag swinging. And sometimes – well, sometimes Tony left him to himself. There were many instances that a quick look between them said more than any words could. Tony would pull a couple bags out of the closet, hang them up, and then retreat into the office. Those times were his favorite. Not because he didn’t like learning from Tony or being in his presence – but mostly because it felt good to be so well known by another human being. Quentin’s example of what a significant other should be didn’t even come close to the reality of Tony.

Which was proven to him again a couple weeks later. Tony convinced him to take an early lunch so they could hit a small brunch place just opening up. His boyfriend tried for days to get the morning off and Peter easily agreed to join him. In their time together, Peter was slowly learning the subtle delicacies of life and for Tony Stark, the main one was food. Watching Tony enjoy one of his favorite things in life quickly became something Peter didn’t want to miss out on – so he joined him almost every time the man asked. This new place was rumored to have the best waffles, anyway – Peter couldn’t possibly pass up on something like that. It didn’t hurt, either, the fact that Tony strolled into his building and asked for him by name. Of the people that knew of Tony, he got looks of interest and slight jealousy. The rest of his office stared open-mouthed as they walked out together, the beautiful man’s arm wrapped firmly around Peter’s shoulders.

Their time in line went by pretty pleasantly and the meal was better than either of them expected. Peter’s waffle was one of the best he’d eaten in a long time. When they left, Peter was floating from the high of being with Tony and having a full belly – he was so preoccupied, he didn’t see Quentin until a hand on his shoulder was stopping their movements. Looking up, Peter sucked in a harsh breath – the man who so carelessly tossed him out on his ass was standing right in front of him. The petty part of Peter was glad that he didn’t look all that good. The pretty boy appearance no longer carefully kept – the hair that was meticulously done up looked longer than Peter remembered it ever being and a lot greasier, too. He looked like shit and a huge part of him, one that was trying so hard to win out, wanted to laugh in his face. So much for better off without me, Peter thought.

Peter forced himself to blink a couple times before he even thought to speak. “Quentin.” The hand in his own tightened and Peter could feel the question in the squeeze. “Peter Parker. It’s great to see you, babe. You’re looking great,” Quentin said, the hand still on his shoulder giving him a squeeze – the uncomfortable feel of his touch a total contrast to the safety he felt with Tony’s hand clenched in his own. He tried to come up with something to say but was beaten to the punch. He should have known Tony would pick up on what was happening – the man was incredibly perceptive and insanely protective.

“He’s not your babe. He does look great and you’re kind of in the way,” Tony’s voice was an octave Peter hadn’t heard before – the tone a little frightening, honestly. He looked over at Peter, his brow raised in that signature arrogant Tony Stark look. “We’re off to live happily ever after,” Tony’s smirk was evident, and he returned it with his own grateful look. Tony Stark to save the day. Peter pressed a kiss on his cheek in thanks – the man a total hot head, but absolutely amazing. “And we might never come back. If you’ll excuse me, Quentin,” Peter finally got out, his smile growing at the look of confusion on his ex’s face.

The laughter they dissolved into not even a block later was the last little bit of healing Peter needed. For the longest time, he’d been debilitated. Quentin Beck took his trust and twisted it until Peter didn’t trust himself. Getting thrown out of that apartment all that time ago was the best thing to happen to him – he knew that now. The feeling of Tony’s arm wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him close was worth all the heartbreak and recovery it took to get back to the person Pete knew he could be.

It wasn’t all on Tony – Peter knew giving the man that much credit would only create a rift in their relationship, and he didn’t want that. Most of the work came from deep within him and the confidence he got back was probably the thing that landed him Tony in the end, anyway. No, for Peter, Tony was the guiding light that kept him on track. The older man could keep him grounded and when he didn’t remember the path that he was on, Tony put his arms around him and held him close until he found his way again.

There were many things that could be said about a person that didn’t try to control or push – many things that wouldn’t even come close to doing them justice. Tony’s presence in his life brought a type of peace that Peter couldn’t remember ever searching for. Understanding his self-worth made it easy to appreciate how Tony felt about him. And in the end, Peter found himself falling in love with the man every single time he didn’t float away, every time the teether back to the ground came from one Tony Stark and the simple way he could make Peter feel like the strongest person on the planet. He didn’t know much about the future or what it held in store for him, but boxing and Tony were two things Peter knew wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. In fact, he had a long way to go if he ever intended on putting Tony on his ass. There wouldn’t be any peace between them until that happened.

Later, when Peter found himself in the tangle of Tony’s arms, he felt happiness boil over the edges. They didn’t do a lot of talking about their feelings and each man seemed to appreciate that in their own way. For some reason, Peter couldn’t hold himself back – if he did, he might actually explode. “I love you, Tony. I love you and I’ve probably never been happier. Never.” Peter’s words were muffled by the skin of Tony’s chest, but he knew the other heard him. That chest under his head fluttered – with bated breath and the slight quiver of nervous excitement. Tony’s fingers stopped the tracing they’d been doing over the skin on his back and dug in ever so slightly. Those arms were tight around him by the time Tony collected himself enough to say anything back. “I know. I love you, too. Have for a while. I hope you’re happy enough to stay. There’s no one else this world seems quite right with.” Tony pressed a kiss to his head to cover up the vulnerability of his words. Peter recognized the gesture and leaned into it – his heart forever growing for the complex man surrounding him.

Snuggling into the warmth there, Peter felt himself sigh with contentment.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

#starker #peter parker/tony stark #tony stark/peter parker #fics #fan fics #marvel fanfiction #bobbie writes #tony #peter

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aladygrieve · 4 years

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** - Favourite

FANDOM CLASSICS

Castle (The Rules by Which We Live) by kickflaw Word count: 16,200 Summary: Merlin knows that getting off fastest when he’s got some BDSM porno playing loud on the computer doesn’t mean he’d really like to be that bloke, gagged and bent over and bound. Right? Notes: Modern AU and the best BDSM I’ve ever read.

Destiny That Darkly Hides Us by Nympha_Alba Word count: 63,000 Summary: It’s 1913, the practice of homosexuality is unlawful, so is the practice of magic. When Arthur Pendragon and Merlin Emrys meet as Cambridge undergrads, they’re both hungry for a real and true connection without secrets. For a short time they believe they may have found it. But war breaks out and separates them, and it seems unlikely that they will meet again. After all, what are the odds? Notes: Includes reincarnation!

Drastically Redefining Protocol by rageprufrock Word count: 46,000 WIP Summary:In which Prince Arthur meets Merlin and all hell promptly breaks loose. Notes: Modern AU in which Merlin is a chain-smoking med student and Arthur is the womanizing Prince of Wales. Includes several companion stories.

**The Student Prince by FayJay Word count: 145,200 Summary: A modern day Merlin AU set at the University of St Andrews, featuring teetotal kickboxers, secret wizards, magnificent bodyguards of various genders, irate fairies, imprisoned dragons, crumbling gothic architecture, arrogant princes, adorable engineering students, stolen gold, magical doorways, attempted assassination, drunken students, shaving foam fights, embarrassing mornings after, The Hammer Dance, duty, responsibility, friendship and true love… Notes: Because really, no rec list is complete without the novel-length jewel of the Merlin fandom. It’s plotty, beautifully written and perfectly in-character, and is especially dear to my heart now that I’ve actually visited St. Andrews. I highly recommend the podfic, as FayJay is an incredible reader.

REINCARNATION/FINALE-COMPLIANT

Hold My Heart Until it Beats by ingberry Word count: 1920 Summary: Arthur dies and waits for Albion to need him again. But most of all he waits for Merlin. Notes: Great use of the Arthur waits trope.

**Hopeless Wanderer by Magnolia822 Word count: 18,500 Summary: Merlin has been wandering the world for hundreds of years alone; one day a young blond man moves into the flat upstairs. But does Arthur remember? Notes: Still my all-time favourite reincarnation fic.

I Keep Going Over the World We Knew (Over and Over) by Mellacita Word count: 51,100 Summary: When Merlin Emrys is sent on a ‘round-the-world assignment, he begins remembering a life of magic, dragons, and kings. To make matters worse, a strange woman starts stalking him along the way. And that’s before he even meets Arthur Pendragon, whose answer to climate change is going to save the world. Because apparently just saving Britain won’t be enough this time around. Notes: Plotty and intricate and very, very cool.

Let Your Heart Hold Fast by Acavall Word count: 3000 Summary: Merlin waits for Arthur’s return, and the only way to hold on to his memories is to write them down. Over and over, again and again, as history marches by. Notes: Works interesting historical references into the reincarnation deal.

Never Let Me Go by LadyVader Word count: 3500 Summary: Merlin has walked the world for a long time waiting for his friends return. Notes: Great use of the rest of the characters.

Now I Will Unsettle the Ground Beneath You by nu_breed Word count: 42,300 Summary: Merlin’s dreams have always fuelled his art, but they’ve always been abstract and removed from reality. Soon after he meets Gwaine, he starts to see vivid images of a past full of death and magic and love for a King who was ripped from him. Things only escalate further when he spends a weekend in the country with Gwaine and meets his group of friends, which includes aristocrat and It Boy, Arthur Pendragon. Merlin soon realises that no matter how hard you try, one thing is certain, you can’t fuck with destiny. Notes: Merlin’s dating Gwaine but he and Arthur can’t keep their hands off each other. I love it.

Old Love, But in Shapes That Renew and Renew Forever by leopardwrites Word count: 3500 Summary: People accept that an old man might live alone. People understand that he might have lost the greatest love he has ever known. Notes: Fics that deal with old!Merlin are never not going to be gut-wrenching.

CANON ERA

A Bet by juxtapose Word count: 1100 Summary: In which the Knights stumble upon a private moment between the Prince and his manservant, Leon is uncomfortable, and Gwaine decides to make a bet. Notes: All the knights are fantastic in this one.

The Accidental Seduction by Ras Elased Word count: 9000 Summary: Arthur’s a bit dim and a prank goes horribly awry, but in the end this works out to the benefit of all involved. Notes: Almost unbearably adorable.

**Finding Home by riventhorn Word count: 7860 Summary: When Gaius retires, a new physician takes over, one that quickly kicks Merlin out of his room and takes it for himself, Arthur finds Merlin sleeping in the stables..and it’s winter. Notes: Good old-fashioned hurt/comfort with a dash of fluff. Probably my favourite canon-era fic.

**Fools of Us All by adelagia Word count: 11,100 Summary: Merlin accidentally makes everybody in Camelot fall in love with him. Everybody except Arthur, that is. Notes: Cute, funny and very in-character.

Freedom Hangs Like Heaven by derryere Word count: 9000 Summary: It’s happened five times and they don’t talk about it. Notes: The unresolved romantic tension will end you.

The Greater Bond by ravenflight21 Word count: 15,500 Summary: When Arthur is kidnapped by slavetraders, Merlin has only one option: to buy him. Playing Arthur’s master has its drawbacks – but it also has extraordinary compensations. Notes: Fabulous trope that also includes fancy dress. What more do you want?

**A Heavy Heart to Carry by ThursdayNext Word count: 12,561 Summary: When Merlin is captured and injured, Arthur must face up to his own feelings for his manservant as well as the many secrets he discovers are being kept from him. Notes: I think this might have been the first merthur fic I ever read. It’s Cold Outside by ionionie Word count: 2500 Summary: Merlin and Arthur get trapped in a cave on a freezing cold night. How do they stay warm? Notes: I’m such a sucker for this trope it’s actually sad.

**Meteorology by fayhe Word count: 4600 Summary: Character study with spot-on cameos from Uther, Morgana, Gaius and even Kilgarrah. Notes: Best Gen.

So That I Might Be Where You Areby cherrybina Word count: 4600 Summary: When a spell goes wrong, Merlin and Arthur are linked together in an unusual way, which leads to lots and lots of UST. Notes: Not kidding about the UST, which works surprisingly well. **Stars Above, Stones Below by Destina Word count: 46,800 Summary: After the disastrous end of his betrothal to Gwen and the regret of his offer to Princess Mithian, Arthur swears off finding a wife until he’s ready to wed. When Merlin offers himself to Arthur as bedmate, Arthur suggests they hand-fast in secret for a single year of mutual pleasure without obligation. As their year together unfolds, and secrets and betrayals unravel around them, Arthur and Merlin learn there is no such thing as uncomplicated pleasure. Everything they thought they knew can change in the span of a single year. Notes: Another one of my absolute favourites. Winterbloom by Shinybug Word count: 6200 Summary: Deep in the woods in the frozen heart of winter, a careless comment leads to a redefinition of Arthur’s relationship with his manservant. Notes: Emotionally-constipated boys shivering in the cold will always be one of my favourite things.

MODERN AU

A Change of Pace by kianspo Word count: 54,600 Summary: The one in which Arthur works in finances and his suits are various (two) shades of grey, Merlin works in advertisement and has no boundaries whatsoever, Morgana drinks rum, Mithian stages a coup, Agravaine is aggravating, and Elena’s house is amazing. Also, Andy Warhol is mentioned in vain, and Arthur and Merlin fall in love in Victorian era style. Notes: In which Arthur has a structured, ordered, boring life, until Merlin comes along.

This Silly ol’ Dance is Perfect for Two by SlantedKnitting Word count: 80,500 Summary: Arthur is young, gorgeous, talented, and captain of one of the best football teams in England; his life should be perfect. But he can’t keep a girlfriend for more than a few months, and it’s not just because he isn’t ready to settle down. When his most recent girlfriend dumps him, he has a rough night at the pub and has to be dragged home by his neighbour, Merlin. Merlin is an archivist, a Ph.D student, and he hates football almost as much as he hates Arthur. They both have their own reasons for not wanting to spend time with each other, but after that disastrous night, remaining silent neighbors doesn’t seem like much of an option anymore. Notes: Plotty and original. Wicked Game by winterstorm Word count: 42,400 Summary: Arthur’s the King of Camelot…nightclub. He can pick and choose who he wants, and he does – often – no promises and absolutely no repeats. The night he chooses Merlin might just be his undoing. Notes: Slight age difference.

#merthur #merlin/arthur #merlin #bbc merlin #fic recs #fanfiction #made rebloggable for your convenience

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imaginesmai · 5 years

Text

Tom Holland-Fluff Alphabet

Requested by two anons. Hope you like it! I actually lost your asks, deleted it before time, so I’m sorry. But I got your requests right!

Affection (PDA, how they are in private…)

In public, Tom has certain doubts about kissing you. He knows how the media can get when a famous is in a relationship, and knows that his fans can be aggressive. He doesn’t want any type of hate reaching you, so he decides to keep your relationship out of the public eye for the first month. It’s not a matter of being ashamed of you, and you’re sure of it when a very nervous Tom asks you if you want to meet his family. It’s just a matter of protection and care.

Once the press finds out about you, he’s still a shy guy. Sure, a few pictures on Instagram of you two doing silly things and stories of your daily life, but he doesn’t like to share his private life with the whole world. When you two take a walk, he will take your hand or kiss your cheek, but never make out with you in a public place.

In private, affection is Tom middle’s name. He won’t hesitate to show you how much he loves you every second of the day. Kissing your cheek when he’s passing by, helping you with anything without a second thought, touching you absentmindedly when you’re with friends… The ‘I love you’ are like your good morning; he says them when you wake up, before you go to bed, with a random note or a text, and every time he sees you. For him, the world spins around you, and he likes to let you know that.

Baby (do they want a family?)

Since the moment he met you, he knew he wanted to have something more with you. In the set of Avengers, or in any other set, he had seen a lot of people playing with their children, and admire from afar how they love each other. He can’t help imagine both of you with a small family of your own. Children with spiderman pyjamas, a house with a garden where Tessa and some other dogs could play, Sunday’s lunch with your families and the kids, holidays trips to exotic places.

Tom knows you’re too young for that, but he does bring it up sometimes. When you’re having lunch in a small restaurant and he sees a family. When you’re in the park and a little kid approach him. Even when you go to the cinema and he sees those special seats for the children.

However, if he could choose, he would probably have a family of dogs.

Cuddles (how and when)

That’s not a question. Tom Holland is always up for cuddles. In the bed, couch, cinema, after lunch, before bed, whenever you want. If you’re standing, he will gradually grab your hips and pull you closer. He puts his head your shoulder and nuzzle his nose on your neck, like a small cat. If you’re reading a book laying on the bed, he’ll put his head on your stomach while playing with his phone. Then, he crawls up little by little until you can’t see the book because his head is in between and the letters. His cute brown eyes looks up at you and he smiles, showing you the dimples of his cheeks. It doesn’t matter if what you’re reading is something important or not, he’ll be there, hugging you, until he falls sleep.

His favourite way to cuddle is on the couch. Tom will lay on the couch with you on his side, while a movie (probably spiderman, let’s be honest) stars playing and Tessa steps between you two. He likes to watch your eyes focusing on the movie or closing slowly. Actually, he likes to watch you when you’re not looking. You run your hand over Tessa’s fur and he plays with your hair. That’s probably what he calls heaven.

Dates (what are dates with him like?)

Time is something that, as an actor who travels a lot and has his family in another country, he values a lot. Tom can spend months in a different country, filming a movie or doing press tours with his cast mates.

He tries to travel home as often as he can. When he comes back, he likes quiet dates. Having you over and playing board games with his family is probably his favourite. He’s a huge family guy, so as soon as your relationship is solid enough, he presents you to his family and friends. If you’re not with them, then going out with his friends is also cool. However, he needs time alone with you too. Tom likes taking you out for a walk or for an ice cream, going to the cinema and then talk about the film in a bench of your favourite park. He wants you to feel as if you were a normal couple. Sometimes, that’s impossible because he has to stop to take a photo with a fan or to sign something. So expect that, every few weeks, Tom manages to sneak you around and plan a trip just for the two of you.

Dates also happen when you visit him. If he’s in New York or in another country, you will find an airplane ticket on your mailbox to where he’s staying. He loves that kind of dates. Tom will show you around the city while bouncing up and down in excitement; his favourite place to eat, where did he record the first scene, what place reminds him of you. All of that while talking about his cast mates. Then, he introduces you to them and it’s safe to say that you both freak out on the same level.

Entertainment (how do you spend your free time)

Tom can, and it’s a fact, look at you for an hour without getting bored. You can be doing anything; homework, house chores, reading or with your computer. If Tom is in the same room than you, he will lose focus on anything else and only see you. He puts on his in-love eyes, placing his head on his hand and forget about the scripts in front of him. You can talk to him, the phone can ring or the building could be on fire; he won’t stop staring at you.

His favourite thing to do with you in your free time it enjoy your company. He doesn’t need fancy restaurant or expensive dates, you can have the best time of your life playing ‘UNO’ on your bedroom and trying to avoid Tessa eating the cards.

Feelings (when did they know they loved you?)

Tom knew he was madly in love with you when he left to film Spiderman: Far From Home. It had been a stressful day; he had gotten coffee all over himself, it was cold, he didn’t know anyone and a terrible wave of homesickness had hit him since he had woken up. He had missed your face time, saying that he was too busy and would call you at night.

Even if he didn’t want to say it, the main problem was that one the crew had taken her dog to set, and Tom had thought about Tessa. The dog had bought happiness to his life, being away from her so much time was too hard. So he spent the whole day with a pout.

When he arrived to his hotel room late at night, he just wanted to curl up in bed and cry in peace, away from the paparazzi and his friends. Tom didn’t expect seeing you with Tessa in the lobby, trying to convince an angry woman that you were Tom’s girlfriend. Tessa was moving around anxiously, wanting to break free from the leash and run around that enormous place. You had only brought with you one backpack, that seemed really heavy from where Tom was staring at you.

Turned out, Jacob had called you and told you about Tom’s mood, so you had decided to pay him a quick visit to where they were filming. It didn’t matter that it took you more than what you earned in two months and a tiredness that weighted on your shoulder.

Tom didn’t have time to greet you, because as soon as Tessa saw him, she broke free and tackled him to the ground. As you hugged with a jumping dog around you, Tom mumbled for the first time the three words sentence, and realised that there was not a day on his life that he didn’t want to spend with you.

Gentle (kind or rough)

You can’t change my mind, Tom is the kindest dork on earth. Like, he’ll ask before doing anything, and I mean anything, with you. Holding your hand, kissing your cheek, wrapping his arms around your shoulder or wiping a hair out of your face.

In bed, he’s also kind. You have tried rough or had stuff sometimes, but it always ends up the same way; Tom fussing over you and panicking because he thinks he has hurt you. There is not an inch of roughness in that boy, seriously.

Holidays (favourite place)

Tom’s favourite place to spend the holidays is somewhere lost where he can enjoy time with his family and you. If both of you are free, he loves to take you to a small trip for a week, nothing too expensive but where you can have time alone away from everyone.

However, he prefers family vacations. Since the first summer that you had spent together as a couple, he had invited you to come with his family on holidays. His brothers love you, his parent do too, and you’re probably closer to Harry than Tom himself, because that boy is the definition of friendship. So, you don’t have any problem going with them.

Usually that kind of holidays mean stress for Tom. The good kind, though.

You team up with his brothers to prank him, and he can’t take a step without fearing that a spider might be somewhere. Throwing each other to the pool, drawing strange patterns with sunscreen on the others back. But if there is a thing that bothers Tom, is the privacy.

You two literally don’t have any of it. If he, by a chance, wants to get intimate with you, one of his brothers or his mother will open the door asking for something. Or they just wanted to see the TV. It’s just, your room is fresher that ours. Anyone, expect no sex while you’re on holidays.

Tom might complain about it and about his family stealing you away, but he doesn’t want it any other way.

Impression (first impression)

This is kind of a little imagine where Tom meets you for the first time.

Hospitals were, at the same time, the best and the worst part of his day. There was where Tom found his happiness, between the excited children who shouted when they saw him on his suit; but also, he found a deep sadness, when one of them had to leave the room because of his or her illness.

“Hey” Benedict appeared behind him and grabbed his shoulder. “Maybe you can take a break. You know, go to the cafeteria and grab something to eat.”

Tom was sitting on an empty table, too small for an adult. Still, he had been there for two hours. In front of him stood three different puzzles undone and a cute doll with a red dress. Her previous owner was then in surgery, her little heart giving her awful problems. He sighed and looked up to the man, who had a worried glint on his eyes. Maybe it would feel good, he thought. He had been there for hours, and a coffee actually sounded good.

“I guess” he mumbled, getting up. “I-I’m going to get something. Text or something if you know anything. About the girl.”

“Sure” he offered him a half smile. “Don’t worry, Tom. She’s gonna be fine.”

He answered with a small grunt and left the kids’ room. There weren’t much of them, because it was probably dinner time and because their energy had ran low after spending a whole day with the avengers.

They had appeared in the hospital as a surprise; Robert, both Chris, Benedict, Scarlett and him. The day had been going great until the girl who was playing with Tom and had been attached to his leg couldn’t breathe. Tom had panicked and called the doctor as soon as he noticed, yet when she arrived she was unconscious and he was holding her small body in his arms.

The ghost feeling of it made Tom take a turn and enter into one of the rooms for ‘only staff’. Inside, it was dark and humid, but it was perfect for him to hide for a few minutes. He was sure the press would be in the corridors waiting for him. The rest of the cast had already left, except Benedict and him, who wanted to wait until the little girl was fine again. And from the window, he had seen some reporters waiting for him to come out.

When the door closed behind him, he let out a shaking breath and the first tear rolled down his cheek. It was all so stressing. The social pressure, the influence he had over those children, the responsibilities, the fame. There were moment when everything seemed to big for him. It was one of those moments.

Tom sat on a small bed and hid his face between his hand, letting the tears roll down freely. It was silent for a while until he started sobbing.

“I can leave if you want.”

Probably, if someone had been recording that moment and had shown it to him later he would have died off embarrassment, because the high-pitched scream he produced sounded un natural. He jumped to the right a few inches, almost falling off the bed, and looked to his left. There, in a bed similar to the one he was sitting on, was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

And it wasn’t as if he saw much, because it was dark as hell.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you” you let out a little laugh. “I just thought I should make myself known before you saw me.”

“H-How long have you been there?” Tom asked, his eyes not leaving your face.

You weren’t wearing the ugly hospital uniform; beside that, to him you looked too young to be working there. You were sitting cross-legged with some leggings and a huge t-shirt with a weird drawing. If he wasn’t so scared about the pictures you could have taken of him crying or that you could be an stalker, he would have drooled because of your smile.

“Was here before you came” you shrugged. “I didn’t think anyone knew about this room, so I come here sometimes. When, you know, it gets hard outside.”

“Oh” he coughed awkwardly, looking at the floor. “I thought-I thought there wasn’t anyone in here.”

“Yeah, it’s not where you expect to find someone” you said. “I’m Y/N, and you?”

Tom looked up and found you in front of him. He could then see clearly the front of your t-shirt; the logo of a campaign who helped families and children in hospitals. At your question, he raised a brow. You seemed genuinely innocent; but he had met people like that before, fans that didn’t know where the privacy started. Still, he couldn’t resist the urge of touching you, even if it was just your stretched hand.

“Tom” he mumbled. “And, uh, what are you doing here?”

You sat beside him and told him how you were helping the families of those children; keeping them company, being positive for them, and how you needed a break from all of that and decided to step away for some hours. After listening to you, he felt kind of silly when he thought how he had cried over a little girl. Your ‘job’ (volunteering, you had said) was much harder than making two appearances each year in a local hospital, yet you comforted and smiled at him when he cried about his little friend.

“Rachel is a brilliant girl” you explained. “I met her four months ago. Did you know that she can spell ten words in a minute? And she’s only eight!”

He thought that, usually, people spoke about those children as if their illnesses defined them

Rachel is a good girl, she has blood cancer.

Bryan, cool kid, but he has a brain tumour.

It put a smile on his face that you spoke about Rachel with joy, and little by little he forgot about his previous sorrow. When he could finally break away from your beautiful eyes, he noticed that it was already dark on the sky.

“I should get going” he mumbled. “I have things to do-Not like I’m having a bad time, no, I’m-I’m glad you’re here. I mean, not glad, like glad. Just like I enjoy your company. But I have, you know stuff.”

Tom had reached the conclusion that you didn’t know who he was. You had been talking with him for hours and, still, hadn’t asked for a picture or a follow on Instagram. And probably you had understood him like no one else. Cutting short your ‘meeting’ wasn’t what he wanted to do, but he needed to go back or the car would leave without him.

“Oh, I’m sorry” you blushed. “I didn’t notice the time.”

“Yeah, me neither” suddenly, a light popped up in Tom’s mind. It was a crazy idea, one that, heard by any of his cast members, would be disapproved. If he hadn’t had enough troubles with the spoilers things, he was going to get in some more; he didn’t care. “Are you going to be around? Tonight, or tomorrow.”

“Yeah, my brother has to pick me up tomorrow morning. I’m spending the night here, Rachel’s parents might need help.”

“That’s nice” Tom smiled. “Do you think you can give me your number? To know about Rachel, I mean. I really want to know if she gets better. Just for that! And if you want, it’s totally okay if you don’t. Actually, it’s a little weird that-“

He started rambling and the blood rushed to his head until you could almost distinguish the soft red from the dark in the room. You placed a hand on his shaking one, making him stop talking and look at you.

“It’s fine by me” you said. “But I didn’t think famous actors should be doing that? Giving their personal number to the first stranger they met.”

“But you’re not the first-“ Tom shut himself in the middle of his sentence and looked at you with wide eyes. “You know who I am?”

“You’re wearing the spiderman suit!” you laughed “And I’ve seen the rest of the cast this morning.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” his voice was nothing more than a whisper.

“Well, I thought you needed someone to talk to” it was your turn to blush.

Tom thought you were the most adorable person, as you started talking about how you were a big fan but you understood that everyone needed to talk about their things too. As he gave you his number and received a kiss on the cheek, he left the room with a new happy smile.

Jealous (protective or overprotective)

Protectiveness is not his thing. He knows when someone is flirting with you, but trusts you enough to push them away and come back to him. If whoever is flirting with you doesn’t get the hint, it’s his time to step up; he’ll probably talk to him calmly and make him understand that you don’t want anything with them, because you’re happy with him. Words usually works and that’s the end of the discussion.

If he has to be jealous, he’s the puppy jealous. Yeah, that’s a thing, and probably he started it. It’s kind of similar to when you don’t acknowledge Tessa because she’s misbehaving; she’ll start whining, pouting and following you with her ears down. When Tom is jealous, he’ll look at you with sad eyes, follow you with his head down and answer with nods or shakes to your questions. Until you ask him what’s wrong; he tells you in a quiet voice and you hug him for a few minutes until he feels alright again.

Kisses

His favourite type of kisses are the lazy ones or the pecks.

Lazy kisses mean that you have enough time to enjoy each other company. Making out in the couch, cuddling in bed sharing kisses or slow love making in the morning. That’s the kind of thing he’s addicted to. When he arrives home late from filming, sure, he likes to kiss the hell out of you and trap you in bed for two days in a row. But he prefers calmer things.

Besides Tessa and too much cuteness, pecks are the other part of your relationship. Tom will steal them every chance he has. If you’re watching a film and you want to go to the bathroom, peck. When you’re waiting for him as he films and he gets two free minutes, peck. As he plays with his brothers and you pass by, peck. You have counted them before, and in a day he can easily give you over one hundred pecks. Not that there is anything to complain about.

Love (who says it first, how many times)

If he could say it every hour of the day, he would. He’s always thinking about those things you do for him, or just the small routines you have picked up from being together. So, not only Tom is the first one saying it, but also who says it the most.

There are more ways of saying I love you, not just with words. For example, if you have had a rough day, when you meet Tom he will have the cutest dinner prepared with your favourite movie. The first time he tried to do so went really bad, because he left Tessa in the apartment with him. He thought that she would help you to cheer up, but she ended up throwing the table where the food was and chewing the TV’s wires. You came home to Tom running behind Tessa in his boxers and with foam on his hair, as she carried the his towel. It doesn’t matter if things don’t go as planned, you know he tries and that’s more than enough.

Other way of saying I love you without words is spending 24 hours without sleep and taking a flight of five hours just to see you for five minutes. You don’t even have to tell him that you need him with you. If he notices something off in your voice, he’ll be there. If it’s your birthday or a special occasion, he’ll be there. And if he just miss you a lot, he’ll be there. You don’t spend more than a month without seeing each other.

When he stays for the night and has to leave early in the morning, he leaves thousands of notes with cute words in your toothbrush, the milk or in the door. Along the day, your conversation with him is the cheesiest thing in the world; lots of I love you, I miss you and adorable pictures of each other.

Memory (favourite memory together)

It’s simple but, without any doubt, his favourite. It happens a lot of times, and is his favourite moment of the day.

Tom’s head was about to explode. He felt a constant pain on the middle of his forehead, between his eyebrows, and on the back of his neck. He had tried pressing on the spots, putting something cold or hot, and even taking some tea. Still, it hadn’t gotten any better, and the reason behind it was in front of him; the damned script. For the past three hours, he had been trying to learn it, but it was already late at night and nothing had entered in his head.

Groaning in frustration, he looked up to the wall of your apartment. He had promised you a perfect night, but he wanted to end the scrip first. Not that it was happening any time soon. Suddenly, he felt a presence behind him and saw you standing on the doorway. You were wearing pyjama bottoms, too long for your legs, and one of the spiderman t-shirt he had gotten you in his last convention. Your hair was standing on every direction and it made his heart thrum inside his chest. You rubbed your eyes before walking towards him, yawning.

“Hey baby, what are you doing up?” he asked, voice gentle as he placed the script down. His body ached and he probably should had stood up and stretched, but you were coming his way and he would be damned if he moved an inch.

You sat on his lap gently, and Tom sneaked his arms around your waist to lock themselves around your body, like an automatic reaction. Your hand carded his hair, pushing the longer strands of his curly locks back from his forehead. Tom closed his eyes and hummed happily.

“Isn’t that what I should be asking you?” you gave him a sleepy smile, as one of his hands reached your arm and stroked its way down and up.

“Still got a few pages left” he grunted, and grabbed your small hand in his.

He bought it up to his lips and kissed it, letting you rest it against his cheek. A small and tired smile made its way to his face.

“You said that three hours ago” you pouted slightly through the sleep. “And promised to spend a night with me.”

“I know” he sighed. “But someone has been distracting me all night.”

He had been gone for two months, and just that week he had come back to you; so you had squeezed even the last second of his time, because you knew he would leave soon. Probably, in that week, you had ended with the Kamasutra; and still, you wanted him by your side that night.

“Please”

A puff of air hit your ear as he laughed, winding his arms around your waist to pull you closer, in a more reclining position before his hands went up your back, drawing lazy circles over your shirt. Tom pressed his face against your neck, leaving a small kiss in your pulse point that made a shiver run through your back. He held you safely as you pushed at him, trying to get away from his ticklish lips. Tom’s eyes found you as you tilted your head up from his shoulder so you could look him in the eye, narrowing your own at him as your mouth pursed.

“Come to bed with me” you said. “I don’t know how to sleep without you.”

“You’ve been sleeping without me two whole months, Y/N” he chuckled. “That excuse is not valid.”

“Yeah, and they have been shit, Tom” you sighed. “Please. I just got you with me this week.”

“Just a few more minutes, alright?”

“Alright.”

You bit back a smile, briefly considering dragging him by his ear to the bed yourself. But you were getting quite sleepy and comfortable on his lap, so you stuck a hand between the two of you and fisted his t-shirt softly. Tom pressed a silent kiss to your temple and went back to his script, the headache gone. It was silent after that as he went back to his previous task. Your eyes focused for a while on his hands and veins, the soft light of the lamp making his skin look more tanned. His soft breathing and the rhythm of his heart in your ear slowly lulled you, your eyes going droopy.

When you finally fell asleep against him, Tom felt the luckiest man in the world.

NO (something they won’t do in your relationship)

Pressuring you into anything. Tom knows that each person is different, and that everyone needs their time when doing things they are not familiar with. As an actor, as I said before, he has a difficult life. Is always away filming or doing press tours; and when he’s home, life is different. Because there are fans, photos and social media.

So Tom would never, never demand something to you. The effort you make when you face time him in the middle of the night (different times), long flights to see him or keeping up with his fame are enough for him.

If you need time to say the L word, he’ll wait whatever is necessary. If you need time to get intimate for the first time, he’ll comfort you with a small on his adorable face. If you need a little break from the media, he’ll gladly offer you to go somewhere private on holidays.

For him, you’re always the top one priority. Not job, not friends or hobbies. Tom feels like he’ll forever be grateful for you, and won’t, under any circumstances, force you to do anything you don’t want to. There are times where he might use his puppy face; to get your attention, ask you for help in something or just being cute around you. But he won’t use them to get something he knows you might not want.

Orange (favourite colour and why)

All the colours.

Green, because he thinks of that time where the two of you went away on a vacation and had the time of your life in a small cabin in the woods. You smiling up at him from the grass, the small picnic he prepared for you, making love in the room with the fantastic views.

Red, as it reminds him to the suit he bought to the premier. It wasn’t that special; what was special was seeing you that night in his jacket as you woke up from bed to drink water. Let’s just say, you stayed up for a little longer.

Blue; honestly, that’s his favourite colour since he was a kid. He loves seeing you in blue dresses, shirts or pants.

Pink, and that’s his little obsession. Every time he goes out, and he sees something pink, he thinks of a little girl. A little girl with his eyes and your nose, with your hair and his smile. He can’t help but associate the colour with the future with you.

Yellow. It’s not really yellow, more like the colour of the light, if that’s a thing. He liked to print into his memory your face in the morning, the light touching your cheeks and making your eyelashes longer.

Parents (how is their relationship with your parents)

One word: amazing.

The first time he met them, Tom was a stuttering mess. He offered your father a shaky hand and almost cried when he gripped it too hard. Your mother hugged him and the only idea that popped in his mind was to pat her back; which came out as really, really awkward. First meeting was, in general, chaotic. Tom had been so nervous that he couldn’t eat a thing without feeling as if he was going to puke, and his knee had been moving so much up and down that even your father had told him to stop.

Then, came the good part. Your dad asked him about his job, or studies, and he started talking about spiderman and Marvel. The ‘fan’ side of your family appeared, and they started talking about the comics and the films. Soon, the attention of the room was drawn to Tom and the awkwardness disappeared.

Since that moment, Tom is always inviting your family to the meetings. He presents his family to yours, prepares lunches for the both of them and tries to have the best relationship.

Quirks (worst habit they have)

Spoilers, we all know that. You can’t see a movie he’s in without knowing the end or something important before.

It doesn’t matter if he’s in the movie or not; as long as he has seen it, he will spoil it for you. He tries not to, because he knows that it annoys you. But he can’t help it, because the guy is too clueless to understand when he has to shup up.

Romantic (little details or non-verbal ways of saying I love you)

Take my jacket, it’s cold outside

He said it on your way to the supermarket. You had been on your period and, even if it was the middle of December and the coldest day of the year, you just needed a quick visit to the supermarket. Having Tom to go without you wasn’t an option, because last time he called you crying because he had gotten lost looking for your pads. And he didn’t want to let you go alone, so you were both walking while the cold bit your skins. Being the stubborn girl you were, you hadn’t brought your coat with you, just a stupid sweater. So he offered you his.

“Unless you don’t want it! That’s-That’s fine, I’m not forcing you into-“

You were about to protest, but were quickly shut when a particular hard gust of wind hit you, making you clatter your teeth. Tom gave you a soft smile and put the jacket over your shoulders. Making you stop in front of him, he buttoned it up and pulled it closer to your body. He left a kiss on the top of your head and continued walking.

I think you’re beautiful

Tom blurted it out when you were trying the dress for the premier of his film at his house, in his room. It felt all so familiar to him, that you standing there in all your glory with your purple dress made him want to drop on his knees to you.

It didn’t hit him until a few seconds later, because he was staring at like a child to his sweets. Your hair tied up, your legs showing and the beautiful necklace you had decided to wear, his gift from the past Christmas. Immediately, he blushed and opened his mouth, ready to do what he always did; stutter until you forgot about what he had said.

That time, he just smiled to you through the blush and told you that you really were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

Have you eaten?

He had asked without thinking, just a natural reaction. People around you were running around, trying to get everything ready for the shot. It was Tom’s most important scene, and he was nervous as hell.

You had managed to get into the set and spend a few minutes with him; still, as you sit in his trailer, the first thing he does is checking you’re comfortable enough.

Sad (how does he cheer you up)

A text with a different emoji has him in your house within hours. Tom knows you like the back of his hands, and know when things are too hard for him. Maybe fans being rude, missing him too much, family problems or just wanting to be down for a while; the reason doesn’t matter, Tom knows how to cheer you up.

First, he’ll show in your house with Tessa, two bags full of food and some films that you might like. If he has time, he will bring you a stuffed animal; and let me tell you, he tries to always have time for that. Half of them are missing a part, because Tessa will eat it in the way to your apartment. Seeing Tom with a guilty face and half of a teddy in his arm is already good enough for you.

Then, he will let Tessa cuddle you while he prepares the living room. When he’s sad, he loves how Tessa fits between his arms and lick his face, so he gets her to do the same. The dog probably love you more than him, yet he denies it. While she makes you smile, he builds a pile of blankets and cushions on the floor to lay down; turn off the main lights and use only soft ones. Then, puts the move.

Finally, he’ll sit with you and hug you in his arms, whispering sweet things and everything he loves about you. The film is for back noise, because if there is something that cheers you anyone up is having Tom making slow love to you kissing and adoring each inch of your body.

Trickster (jokes, pranks…)

Jokes, pranks… are his thing, sure. As I’ve said before, he doesn’t have any problem in having prank wars with you. He never takes them too far, of course, because he would never harm you in any way. Tom will team up with his brothers against you; then, betray them and work with you to prank them, while you’re crossing him with Paddy and Sam.

Throwing popcorn at each other during movies and getting kicked out of the cinema, pushing each other to the water in the holidays, tickling him until he’s crying and, in return, having your feet ticked too. Tom and you area always messing with each other.

Underestimated (what surprised him the most about you?)

Probably that you’re not as obsessed as his fans. You know how to appreciate his work and the things he does, and know when the fame is too much for him and needs to feel like a normal person.

(I’m sorry this is short!)

Vaunt (how much do they show you off?)

Too.

Fucking.

Much.

That boy, that boy can’t stop talking about you. Sometimes, he’ll start talking and, when the person he’s talking to leave, he won’t even notice. He starts the conversation from nearly nothing. If someone says blue, he will start talking about how good you looked on the shirt you brought a month ago. If he smells cookies, he talks about how bad/good are you at cooking.

The worst thing are when you’re not with him. There are times where he has to be away from you for months. His castmates, usually the one who suffer him, have to endure his whining and puppy face whenever you finish the call you had with him or when he sees a picture of you.

Officially, you can say you have Tom Holland wrapped around your finger.

Wedding (do they want one and how they want it)

Tom wants to marry you and isn’t afraid of say it out loud. See that girl? Yeah, she’s gonna be my wife someday, man. After a year of dating, he had actually changed your name contact on his phone to ‘future wife’.

Also, he knows it has to be great. Sometimes he talks about that with you, late at night when you’re both in bed already. He wants something big; for example, a beach place. Yeah, he would like to marry in a beach, both of you in white with the sound of the waves behind you. In his mind, the most important part would be to represent your favourite movie; he doesn’t care how much it costs, how much he has to work.

For you, only the best.

XX (something you’re the only one to know)

That he has a spot, behind his right ear, that makes him crumbled into a fit of giggles and cute smiles. You discovered when you woke up one day and wanted him to pay attention to you. You ran your hands up and down his hair, as Tom hummed in happiness; when, without you noticing, your hand moved and you scratched his spot.

As soon as you did that, his legs kicked out of the bed and he curled into a ball, while giggling and scratching it himself hardly. You almost fell from your position, and looked at him with weird eyes.

Since that moment, you annoy him that way.

You (they talk about you)

“Dude, I’ve met this girl. I know I should have told you about her before but-damn, I didn’t even realise that the time flew by. She’s…I would actually call her perfection. Sweet, caring, nice and gorgeous. Most important, I don’t think I’ve ever feel this connected to anyone! She makes me laugh, happy and Tessa already loves her. I want her to meet the family, and to meet you, of course. But I don’t want to scare her away. I-I kind of see myself by her side for a long, long time Haz.”

Zzz (how do you sleep; probably include a visual)

Tom lays on his back, with your head resting on his chest. He had one hand making circles on your stomach or back, something to keep him distracted while you fall asleep. Because he likes to feel how your breathing becomes slow and how your face relax. His other hand is stretched, but as soon as you fall asleep, he always, always, run a finger through your cheek and just then he can fall asleep too.

Underneath the sheets, your feet are entangled, which leads to quiet curses when either of you want to go the bathroom. It might seem like a conventional way of sleeping, but both of you like it and Tom won’t change it.

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff alphabet #imaginemai #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shot #peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman one shot #spiderman imagine

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stars-my-darling · 4 years

Text

there’s a storm coming tonight

Quick disclaimer: I haven’t written fanficiton in a while (like seven years and so) but there are so many wonderful fanfic writers in this fandom that it really inspired me and I wanted to get back into it. So here I go.

***

Amy could not put into words how glad she was that it was the weekend.

That was surprising because she hadn’t been at work at all that Friday. She hadn’t spent the day chasing down criminals, filing reports or tapping away relentlessly on a computer. Instead she had spent her day off looking after her kids. They were four and two now and she could scarcely believe it.

Prior to having children she had never really understood that old saying of “No matter how big they get they’ll always be your baby”. But now that she was a mother herself, she really knew what it meant. She could clearly see that her kids were not as small as they had once been and they had learned more about the world around them, yet when she looked at them she couldn’t help but proudly think “That’s my baby”. Even though her oldest, Elena, became very indignant when someone referred to her as a baby. “I’m not a baby!” she would retort, stomping her foot on the ground, “I’m a big girl!”

Right now, Amy had that big girl and little brother, Atlas, in the bathtub and was currently scrubbing her head. The two had been their usual energetic selves all day and while Amy had greatly enjoyed playing endless games of chase and jigsaw puzzles with them and had even agreed to get the finger paints out (something she was usually reluctant to do due the inevitable mess it made) she was well and truly worn out. From Monday to Thursday she had worked a particularly grueling case and that in combination with looking after her two little (but very lively) angels all day had really taken it out of her.

Normally, she would have brought them to the park in the late afternoon and allowed them to run around until they eventually tired themselves out, brought them home, made them dinner and then it would have been a case of pajamas and then bed. Unfortunately, the weather had not been on her side that day. After a lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (with the crusts cut off), Amy had been just about to coax the kids into putting on their coats and shoes and hopefully pry them away from the TV and seemingly endless reruns of Dora The Explorer.

Before she got the chance to do that though the heavens had opened and it had been pouring down ever since. It was that kind of thunderous rain that seem to hammer down incessantly on the ground and was accompanied by the type of wind that could turn umbrella’s inside out. A disastrous coupling to say the least. So with the park firmly out of the question she instead opted for getting her kids to tire themselves out by playing in the bathtub. She had added chamomile oil to the water as well as rubber duckies and an assortment of other bath toys to keep them entertained. She was also washing their hair with a fancy (and not to mention expensive) lavender-scented shampoo which she was hoping would help make them sleepy.

“OK, tilt your head back, sweetie” she said as she filled a jug of warm water. Her daughter angled her head back and Amy emptied the contents of the container over her scalp. She repeated the motion until she was convinced that she had gotten all the suds out of her hair. Her little brother meanwhile, whose head she had already thoroughly washed and rinsed, was entertaining himself by splashing as much water as humanly possible and playing with the soap bubbles. Amy herself was completely drenched as was the case by the end of many a bath time. But she almost didn’t mind that much when she could watch her little boy squeal in delight when he decided to cause a mini tidal wave in the water or his look of deep curiosity when he tried to grip the foamy bubbles in his tiny hands.

“Ok” Amy remarked putting down the jug and looking at two freshly washed kids “Time to get out”.

“No” Elena whined, shaking her head, knees drawn up to her chest. Amy sighed. This was always the hardest part of bath time. Despite how much convincing it took to get them into the bath, it took almost twice as much convincing to get them out of it. “Yes, Elena” Amy said, leaning over and lifting her son out and setting him down on the towel she had previously laid down. She started drying him off. “Time to get out. Mommy’s tired and needs her sleep” she looked at Elena, pleadingly “and Mommy can’t go to sleep until your asleep.” Elena thought for a moment, sighed and then got out. “Thank you, honey” she smiled, wrapping her in a white fluffy towel and earning a giggle from her before returning her attention to Atlas.

Once she had both her kids dried off she realized she fallen behind on laundry so she restored to getting new pajamas out of the dryer. That was arguably better as the dryer had just finished it’s cycle so they were still warm and toasty. As she zipped Atlas up in his little white onesie she couldn’t help but feel a quick pang of sadness. This was the same little onesie Elena had worn back when she was two. Now she was way too big for it and in a few months maybe Atlas would be too. They were growing up too fast. Amy quickly pushed that thought away. She was being silly. Babies grew up, it was what happened.

Suddenly she was drawn out of her thoughts when she felt a tug at the on the leg of her sweatpants. “Mama, can we have lavender toys tonight?” Elena asked, her expression hopeful. Lavender toys were what they referred to their heatable plushies as. They were soft toys that you could warm up in the microwave and smelt like lavender. The first one they had ever received was at Elena’s baby shower, a pink little owl given to them by Charles. Once she was old enough to use it she often requested it on cold winter nights. Atlas liked her little owl so much he soon wanted one of his own which resulted in her and Jake investing in a little brown teddy bear edition for him.

“Sure we can, honey” Amy replied, hauling her now pajama-fied son onto her hip. “But first” she said, holding out her hand to her daughter, “We gotta dry your hair”. Elena took her hand as Amy lead both her kids into her and Jake’s room. Sitting behind her dressing table, she placed her son in lap, grabbed a comb and started to get to work on de-tangling the soft brown curls that both her kids had inherited from their father. This was always Atlas’s least favourite part of the post-bath process and as per usual he fussed and wriggled all the way through, constantly trying to slide off her lap in an attempt to escape.

Eventually, Amy caved in and gave him a pacifier to calm him down and couldn’t help chide herself as she did it. Now that he was officially two they had been weaning him off the pacifier, giving it to him less and less. If they did, it was to only be in the evenings to help soothe him before bedtime and even then it was only to be used as a last resort. But right now Amy was too tired to try and reason with a fussy two year old so she let him have it. Either way it was keeping him quiet while she blow dried his hair which was Amy’s favourite part of the post-bath process, mainly for how adorably pouffy her son’s hair was afterwards. She playfully and gently ran her hand through it, watching it stand on end, before planting a kiss on the top of his head. She then turned her attention to Elena.

Elena was the opposite of her brother when it came to this. She was good at staying still throughout the process. Both the brushing and drying didn’t bother her. If anything she always seemed to enjoy always the process.

Once Amy had the lavender toys out of the microwave and had handed them over to her eager kids, it was time for bedtime stories.

Back when Amy had only one child, she use to sit on the edge of Elena’s bed and read to her. When her second arrived it became the custom for Jake to read to one of them and for her to read to the other. Each night, they switched places. However on nights like this, where she was solo parenting while Jake was on a stakeout with Charles, it was the custom for both kids to climb into her bed with her and she’d read a mutual favourite story to the two of them.

Right now thought, judging by the way Atlas was pulling at the shoulder of her sleep shirt, she knew their was something else that required her attention first. “Elena, honey, can you be a big girl and pick out the bedtime story for tonight? One that both you and Atlas would like?” Amy asked, balancing Atlas on her hip as she pulled back the covers of the bed with her free hand. Elena immediately perked up and gave Amy the thumbs up, “OK, Mama” and then scurried off to the little private library space Amy had in her apartment which now had a kids section. Amy couldn’t help her smile as she watched her go. There was something undeniable adorable about a little kid in footie pajamas, especially when they were pink with kitties on them like Elena’s were.

She climbed onto the bed and pulled the covers up around her and got ready to nurse. As she sat up in bed and brought her baby to her breast she couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sadness. Atlas was two now, it was getting to the point where he was too old to nurse. He ate normally throughout the day and ate normal food and it was only about once every few days he asked for milk. It seemed like he was getting bigger by the day. He was talking more and becoming more verbal. Pretty soon he would be officially out of babyhood and undeniably a fully-fledged toddler. She knew soon, like within the next month of so, that she would have to wean him off her milk completely.

Elena came creeping in just as she was finishing up, clutching a copy of Where The Wild Things Are, her little face beaming. Amy made some room and patted the place beside her “Come here, baby” she said as Elena hurried over. Amy laid Atlas down beside her as Elena settled down on her other side. She opened the book to the first page. She knew she wasn’t as good as Jake when it came to doing the voices, but her kids didn’t seem to mind. As she watched them take turns to turn the page, she couldn’t help notice the difference between them.

While they both had similar appearances having both inherited Jake brown curls and their parents mutual brown eyes, their personalities were different. While Atlas was pretty much his father’s mini-me, with the same goofy grin and his keen ability to always make his mother laugh, Elena seemed to be a blend of both her parents. She, like her mother, liked being in control and in charge but also hadn’t seemed to inherit her mother’s love of tidiness and order. Atlas on the other hand was more shy and reserved, which more reminded Amy of herself. Elena was more confident and sure of herself which in some ways kind of reminded her Jake.

One of the things she seriously loved about being a mother was the seeing her kids grow into their own little individuals. While there was some things that she could definitely tell they had inherited from her or Jake, she could also see things that were uniquely individual to just her kids. She was reminded, not for the first time that night, how big they were getting. That had been weighting on Amy’s mind recently.

She and Jake had talked about having a third. Nothing was completely decided yet and they were still determining all the finer details, but they were leaning towards maybe trying for one. Part of her felt like she just wasn’t done having kids yet and Jake had admitted part of him felt the same way.

By the time she got to the last page both her kids were dozing off on either side of her. Maybe it was the fact that that warm, toasty sensation seemed to be lingering on their pajamas or that she could definitely still smell that concoction of lavender and chamomile from the bath in the air or her general exhaustion but either way she definitely felt like joining them. She was glad she had gotten them to brush their teeth before their bath so she didn’t have to move them.

“Hey, do you wanna sleep in Mommy and Daddy’s bed tonight?” she whispered to Elena. “Uh-huh” Elena murmured, her eyes already closed, nodding. She turned to Atlas “What about you, honey, you wanna sleep here tonight?” Atlas cuddled in close to her. “Here” he muttered. Amy smiled and decided to take that as a yes.

Seeing as they were all in agreement, she leaned over and switched off the lamp on the bedside table. She pulled the blankets up around them, the quilt was heavier then her usual one due to the colder, wetter weather outside and it added to the current cosy-ness in the room. She gently wrapped one arm around each kid. She immediately felt them snuggle in closer to her, responding to her familiar touch.

Amy had overall not enjoyed the sensation of being pregnant but she had always acknowledged that one of the few perks of it was that was arguably the closest you could physically feel to another human being. It was hard not to when you were growing one inside you. But Amy would argue that the closest you could feel to that feeling again was cuddling your kids under a blanket. When she looked at them now all soft hair and little hands and chubby cheeks, she felt something grow warm in her chest. Delicately, she leaned over and gave each of them a quick kiss on each of their foreheads. “You two are the most precious things in the world to me” she whispered into the darkness.

Then, with that she felt the exhaustion of minding two little kids all day and working a long, tough week envelope her and she began to feel herself drift off into sleep.

***

Amy woke later in the night of her own accord. When she slowly opened her eyes she was greeted by the sight of her husband who had seemingly gotten home and crept into bed without waking any of them. That was impressive.

Atlas had rolled over in his sleep and was now currently facing Jake whose arm was now draped over him, holding him close. Amy now had one arm free and the other wrapped around her daughter. Gently, Amy stretched over and gently ran a hand through Jake’s messy curls and across his jaw. She always knew it but in that moment, she was struck by how much she truly loved him.

She then resumed her previous position and readied herself to fall asleep. Somewhere, between and consciousness and unconsciousness, as the rain hammered down outside, she realized how lucky she was. There had been times where she had feared that this would never happen. Times when she couldn’t face seeing another negative pregnancy test. Yet, here she was with two kids, a loving husband and the possibility of someday having a third one.

But right now, she wasn’t thinking about that. Right now, she was happy to just fall asleep surrounded by her little family, perfectly content with the people she loved, listening to the rain pouring down outside.

#b99 #b99 fanfiction #b99 headcanons #peraltiago #jake x amy #major soft vibes

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thewritingstar · 4 years

Text

Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Blossutch (Blossom x Butch)

Fandom: Powerpuff Girls

Rating: M (drug use, mature themes, it’s butch do I even need to explain??)

Summary: An Ivy League school and a plan in place, Blossom has everything in order. But when a person from her past suddenly shows up, she wonders if her plans could be slightly rearranged.

I hope you all enjoy this new Wip that I am determined to finish!!! Enjoy!!! Also I’m on mobile so I’ll put the keep reading thing once I get on a computer sorry for the long post lol

———

“Bubbles, please stop crying.” Blossom patted her sobbing sisters back. She let out a laugh as Bubbles finally pulled away and squished her cheeks.

“But I'm going to miss you!” The tears were coming again and Blossom pulled her into one last hug.

Buttercup only huffed as she placed the last box on the ground. “Bubbles she is going to a college only three hours away from ours. We can fly in less than twenty minutes to see her.”

It was true. Blossom had gotten into every single college she applied to, no surprise there and only the ivy league schools would be suffice for her. On the other hand Bubbles and Buttercup were attending the same college on the opposite side of the city, Buttercup on a full ride for sports and Bubbles in one of the top art and fashion programs around. Their sister almost went to that school but after a smack to the face and yelling about going to the best school, Buttercup made sure her sister only got the best, afterall who was going to brag at Thanksgiving dinner?

“I know. I know but it just feels weird.” She shrugged before opening up a compact mirror and fixing her makeup. it closed with a pop. “I mean we all haven’t really been apart like ever.”

The thought did startle Blossom but that’s degree plaster on her wall protected by glass was the goal and if she had to be away from her sisters for a little bit, then so be it.

“She’s going to be fine Bubs.” And after a few more minutes of a goodbyes, Blossom was left alone in her apartment.

Her sisters got roomed together but Blossom knew she was a fragile person to live with. It was better to live by herself than try and work out a routine with a random stranger, plus the dorms were right next to all the frat houses and Blossom cringed every time she went near them.

How could such a presteigne school allow such juvenile behavior? She would never know.

It only took an hour for everything to be in place thanks to her super speed and pre-planning of the layout. It was a simple apartment. One bedroom with a small kitchenette and a living room, nothing fancy but had a few places to study and get work done, perfect.

Not to mention her bulletin board that already had her schedule up with prime study times and library hours, this was gonna be fun.

By the time she was done and took a shower, her stomach grumbled and she knew she should eat. It was no secret that Blossom wasn’t the best in the kitchn. Okay it was known that she was the worst but she knew how to boil water and use the microwave, but eating at all the small local cafes seemed much more appealing.

With her purse in hand she made her way out.

“Um excuse me?” A voice came just as she was locking her door. “You must be Blossom”

Blossom wanted to turn back around and go into her room. Yes she might have been one of the most famous people on the face of the earth but the girl was one for her alone time. She put on a smile and was ready to meet the fan, she loved meeting fans she was just hungry.

She looked up at the girl with bright blue eyes and long brown hair. A gasp leaving her lips and she squealed. “Robin!”

Her childhood friend who sadly moved a city over during middle school was now staring back at her. “Hey Blossy.” She giggled as she was pulled into a hug. “I would say I am surprised to see you but I’m not.”

Blossom could hardly contain her excitement as Robin wrapped an arm around her own, a little trait that she did with everyone, and they walked down the hall. “Dinner time?”

“Absolutely, we have so much to catch up on.” Blossom smiled back.

“I can’t believe you actually had to fight a monster on prom.” Robin laughed as she bit into her sandwich and Blossom rolled her eyes playfully.

“Really? I'm not.”

In that moment Blossom was thankful that Robin was there. Out of all their friends in school, she had always been the most genuine. Never once did the girls status affect their relationship and she never worried about any information about them getting leaked, unlike some of their classmates.

To be honest she was afraid to be on her own. Her sisters were still together and she had no one. She was a peoples person but not in the way Bubbles was. It was hard for her to deeply connect to people unless it was intellguiet.

“Soooo.” Robin started. “Did the boys go to high school with you?” She asked eagerly.

It took a moment for Blossom to process it. The boys? And then it hit her. Robin had been a fangirl, like most, when the boys had joined the school system at the age of 16. Of course she was gone before that had happened and only knew them as the counterparts who tried to kill the girls every once in a while but it didn’t stop her from eyeing them.

“They went to the rival high school.” Blossom said unenthusiastically as she patted her mouth with a napkin. “We all got along fine, just slight teasing.”

“Did you date any of them? I always thought you and the red one, Brick was it? Would end up a thing.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Bubbles and Boomer did. I followed her on social media and saw all the cute couple posts about them but someone.” She looked at Blossom. “Didn’t have social media.”

Blossom could see how everyone thought Brick and her would end up together. But to everyone dismay, they were only friends, maybe. And well, he was more occupied in the boy population than the girls. Of course she was one of the few to know that and they spent just as much time arguing about Shakespeare as they did bonding over the hottest member of boy bands.

“I have a private instagram that you can have. Brick and I are just friends, well he’s more like my best friend”

“That's too bad, I always thought you would end up with a ruff.” Robin laughed as she took Blossom's phone and plugged in her new number and every single social media she could find.

She got her phone back after a minute and dropped some bills on the table. “Sorry to disappoint but he doesn’t swing that way.”

“Oh really?” This surprised Robin.

She laughed a little. “Actually we tried to date.” Robin almost spit out her drink. “He took me on a date and when he kissed me it felt wrong, no spark, nothing. It was werid since we are counterparts but afterwards he told me that he was gay and was just making sure.”

“That's sweet.”

“So now we just braid each other's hair and judge people while complaining that we are single.”

“What about the green one?” Robin eyed her. “I don’t think Buttercup was into him right? But you could be. Imagine it, the bad boy and the good girl.” Robin was practically blushing.

“Absolutely not.” Blossom almost laughed. “I don’t even think he would go to college and plus, we don’t have anything in common.”

The brunette shrugged and picked up her jacket. “Don’t worry Bloss, this is college. We will find you a hot piece of ass to match with your fine ass.”

A loud laugh left her lips. “Thank you Robin. Now I heard there is a bakery near here that is to die for.”

“Oh you and your sweets.”

----

By the time her alarm went off, Blossom had already been on a morning run, ornginzed her books and ate at the small bakery that had the most amazing danishes. Unlike most people, she lived on the thrill of first days of school.

She made sure to double lock her door as she strutted out of her appartment and took in the fresh autum air. There was still about an hour before class but so she could walk as slow as she wanted.

The leaves where starting to tint to a rustic brown and crumble underneath her pumps, she was always a show fantaic and adored walking in heels even though she was already 5′6. There was something about being taller than most of the girls around her that provided a staggering connfiedcen in her, plus it made her more intrmidating against villains. Sometimes she wore 5 inch heels just to be 6 ft tall for the hell of it.

The walk to the main campus buildings took her past the majority of the socail houses. She eyed one of the frat houses that she wouldn’t bother knowing its name and a glare and bad taste formed in her mouth. She wondered why people even bothered going to college if they were just going to mess around and not do their work.

She huffed. She didn’t have time for those silly parties and games, she worked to damn hard to be the top of her class and she was determine to conquer this school too. And the school for her masters and eventally doctoral. She was going to be a leading chemist after all and follow in her fathers foot steps. He nearly cried when she said she wanted to work in his lab one day.

By the time she got to class, and stopped for a tall iced coffee, extra vanilla for her sweet tooth, class would begin in just ten mintues.

She was thrilled for her class. Professor Keene was amoung one of the smartest and well known chemists in the contry and when Blossom found out she was going to be learning from her, she almost blew up the house from exictemnt.

She took a seat in the middle row of the lecture hall and was happy that she wasn’t the only student in there. The class began to fill in but she was engaged in her book so she didn’t notcie anyone who was shuffling in the seat behind or around her. She thought about turning around and intrducing herself to other students. She felt a little bad about how stand offish she could be but she was a famous superhero so not wanting to be the center of attention was something she strived for. Unless it was for grades, then she would gladly take her crown.

Her phone buzzed quietly in the pocket of her skirt. A small smile came to her lips as she read the text from her sister group chat.

Bubbles: Hope you have a good day at school sis!

Buttercup: i hate this already

Blossom: Miss you!

She placed the device away as her closed her book and took out her text book.

“Hey can I borrow a pencil?” A voice came from her right and she reached into her bag and grabbed one without hesitation.

“Here you go.” She smiled brightly and as soon as her eyes locked onto his, she let out a gasp and nearly choked on air.

A smirk appeared on his face as took the pencil from her hand, their fingers touched and she felt a jolt of electriy run through her body. Those dark green eyes that she knew all too well pierced through her soul as she gaped at him.

“Butch?”

“The one and only.” he winked and she only narrowed her eyes at him. His being in his prescne had set a shiver down her spine and she thought she wouldn’t see him again, espcecially not at a place like this.

“How the fuck did you get into college.” She blurted out. She never meant to be rude but could you blame her?

The smirk fell instantyl as he raised a brow. “That wasn’t very nice.” His smirk reteruned quickly. “When the fuck do you cuss Pink?” He disregearded the isnult and instead leaned closer towards her. “Its pretty hot babe.”

Ugh those winks made her mad. Remindered her too much of there teenage years.

She wanted to yell at him for the use of the pet name but soon the professor walked in and Blossom almost forgot that she was in class. She shot him a glare and he only laughed as roll was being called. She could feel his eyes on her occsianlly and wanted nothing more than to freeze his hand and punch him in the stomach.

Her eyes stayed glue to the board and her ears listened delicatly to the lecture. she ignored every time he poked her with a pencil or said something that only super hearing could pick up.

“I could squash him like a bug.” She mumbled under her breath and she knew he heard, and was proabbly smiling and thinking dirty thoughts. Ugh.

“Alright that wraps up day one. I am cutting class shorter so that you all have time to get settle and situated.” And with that she packed up her breifcase and made her way out. Blossom admired how she held herself so well, all she saw was a image of what she wanted to be. A respectable woman of science.

Blossom looked down at her notes and smiled proudly at how neat they were. she had spent all of high school learning differnt technquies for optimal note taking and she had mastered it like a sience.

“So Pink.” Butch intterupted her thoughts and she turned to look at him, she almost forgot he was there...almost.

“What?”

“Wanna hang out?” He asked innocently. He even batted his eyelashes for an effect and Blossom fianlly finished packing up. The room around them had cleared out so they were the last two in the room.

“No not really.”

He scoffed at her and dramatically leaned in his seat. “Come on babe.”

“Don’t call me babe.”

“You never yelled at Brick for saying it.”

She turned and rolled her eyes. “First of all Brick is my best friend, secondly, he calls me Toots.”

“So that's why I’m claiming Babe.”

“No!”

“Don’t tell me Boomer has that one? Because thats not fair, hes got Pigtails already, you should learn to share.” He was acting like a child.

“Ew no Boomer calls me nothing and neither will you.” She got up from her seat and left class, of course he was hot on her heels.

She didn’t bother walking fast as he would just catch her anyways and she had a feeling he wasn’t leaving her side any time soon, great.

“I like those shoes Pink.” He whistled.

“Stop staring at my legs.” She knew she should have worn black leggings instead of nude, fuck, it didn’t even matter, boys would find a way to make an outfit sexualized anyways.

He fake scoffed, he does that alot she noticed. “I would never look at your long goddess like legs and wonder what they would feel like wrapped around my waist as I-”

She hit him on the side of the head as he opened the door to exit the building. “In your dreams perv.”

“You better beileve in my dreams.” She ignored him and it was well past noon, she should get food.

“Wanna grab lunch?” He asked as if he read her mind. She probably should say no but she was too hungry to even care.

“Fine.” She’ll be “everything nice” for now.

Everything nice her ass. Sure she was a sweet girl but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t put her foot down on bad behvior. Actually yes she would, she was Blossom after all. Bossy Blossy is what Buttercup always said. But scolding Butch, who is 19 mind you, for chewing with his mouth open was not being bossy, just a decdent human being.

“So high school? Did you graduate?” She asked him with a teasing tone.

During their high school years, the boys went to one on the oppsite side of town, probably for the fact that middle school was spent trying not to kill each other. I mean when you are born to kill someone, takes a while to get over it.

As the crime rate for the RowdyRuffs died down, and ya know the whole Boomer and Bubbles hooking up thing, they all decided to be civil with each other. Butch had taken up the sport of ‘flirithng with every girl he sees and pissing of BC because he felt like it. And Brick just wanted to beat Blossom in all things academic, they always tied.

Butch shurgged. “Nothing to tell, got to graduate, almost failed doing so too but I had my share of fun.”

Blossom took a sip of her lemonade. “How did you get here then?”

“Oh that. Yes how did I, Butch Jojo end up at this ivy league school? Well babe-”

“No”

“Yes. I am what you called, athetically inclined. Buttercup got a full ride on that basketball scholarship and I got the same, kinda of a greens thing.” He winked and she thought it over. It made sense that he would get a sports schaolrship but why here.

“Aren’t there other schools with better sport programs?”

“Sounds like you don’t want me here.” He gave her a pout.

“Not thats not it-”

“Relax babe, im teasing.” He stole one of her fries. Bitch. “I got them from all over but I didn’t want to go where Buttercup and the lovesick puppies were, I’m never living with Boomer again, superhearing is a curse when Bubbles is over.” He made a face and Blossom nodded as she emeber that one time she caught them-ew nevermind.

“So not there, what about Bricks school.”

“And have him up my ass constantly, no thanks. I needed to breath fresh air, plus the frat that I joined is top notch.”

She almost gaged. “Frat?” Why was she surpised?

He notced the hint of disapointment but brushed it off. “Yep. Apprently four other guys got the schalrship from that fraternity alone. If you get it and accept, you have to be there for at least two years, which means party, booze and babes.” He winked and it was her turn to scoff.

She stabbed a piece of lettuce from her salad. “Well you must be enjoying yourself then.” She had lost her appetite suddenly.

“Aww you’re the only girl I have eyes for doll.” That didn’t make her feel better and it shouldn’t have anyways.

“I would say don’t do anything stupid while you’re there but we both know thats not possible.”

“You flatter me Pink, thinking im the dumb one when blueberry boy is the offical Dumbest of the Dumb.”

“I’d be careful Butch, he passed high school with good grades.”

“And yet im at an ivy league school and hes not.”

“Touche”

“So which frat did you get into?” She asked out of politeness but that smirk that showed his slightly sharper than normal teeth already had her regretting it.

---

She shouldn’t have been shocked. No really. The fact that she was staring at the notorious frat house wasn’t even the worse part, it was how she didn’t connect the dots sooner. Of course he was in the highest ranked frat, Alpha Alp.

“Welcome home babe.” He winked and her eyes widened before offering her most polite smile, ya know the ones reserved for the press.

He hung an arm around her shoulder and lead her up the path way to the front door. Her eyes turned to the lawn, which was scattered with beer cans, cigarette buds and oh my, is that underwear? Why is she not surpised.

The house itself looked like it had alot of money invested in it and the boys who lived here were all proabbly from rich familes where daddy was sending them for a bussiness degree and to fuck around. She hated it.

Frats to her were the lowest point of college. Everyone here didn’t even work to get in, well not everyone, and they just got to party and spend money. The amount of horror stories that came from this house alone made her shutter.

There were handprints made of paint lining the wooden deck, presumabley of all the past members and a dark green print with ‘Butch’ sctarched in looked to be apart of the newest batch. She found it oddly charming in some sort of sick twisted way.

He opened the door with a loud slam and she knew that if he was back home, Brick would have yelled at him for being obnoxious and brash. She couldn’t blame him.

“Hey boys.” He yelled at the five guys surrouding the tv with more booze on the table. It was only a little bit past noon.

“Sup Butch. Ooo got a new toy and its only the first day!” One of them cheered and Blossom instantly scoffed and glared at him.

Butch sensed the disconfort immediately. “Actually boys.” He sneered with a smile. “This lovely lady is just an old friend who is smarter than all of you dimwits combined.” Blossom was now being pulled towards the right side of the house and up a flight of stairs.

That was a smart move Blossom thought. He knew better than to piss of a red. Sure the greens were the toughest and the blues could cry and throw the worst tantrums but the reds, making them mad was a death wish that only few had endorsed and would like to keep it that way.

They passed some more of his frat brothers, each giving them a wolf whistle, wink or a high five and each one made Blossom shiver. Before more things could be said Butch had closed the door of his room, ignoring all the hooping and hollering.

He let out a sigh and turned to Blossom who was sporting a frown.

“Sorry about that Bloss” He smiled lightly and she only shrugged.

“I didn’t expect anything less.” She replied as she turned to absorb the atmosphere

It was a simple room. Two beds, she assumed there was a roommate, dark oak furniture and a suitcase thrown on the ground. Clearly he hadn’t finished moving in. However when she turned to his desk there had been a sign of clear drug use.

“Did you snort cocaine before class?” She asked.

“Would you believe me if i said it was a pixie stick?”

“No.”

“Okay then.” He shrugged and plopped onto the bed. “So Pink, whatcha you wanna do?” He wiggled his eyebrows and she glared.

—

He had won this round of Go Fish. Of course she had already beat him five times but he said she couldn’t leave until he had a taste of victory or a taste of her lips, she chose the first one obviously.

“In ya face Pinky.” He flicked her bow and she rolled her eyes. He liked the bow. Even though it seemed childish to wear it, it screamed power and authority. Ever since he was a kid, he waited until he saw that flash of velvet red before starting a duel between the groups.

“One against five isn’t very good odds.”

“Maybe not but it just shows that I don’t give up. Now how about some poker, we can make it strip poker if ya like.” Again with the winks.

She shook her head. “The day I play strip poker is the day hell freezes over.” She looked out the window and saw the golden sky. “I should probably go, it’s getting late.”

It just registered that she had been here since noon and now it was almost 5 pm. How?

He frown and she thought he looked cute. No. He looked fine, not cute. Not cute.

She stood and slipped back on her shoes. Her eyes now level with his. She didn’t realize how tall he was compared to her. Sure she was only 5’8 in these shoes but she wasn’t used to someone being taller than her, specially since all the other Puffs and Ruffs fell below her.

He finished shoving the cards in his nightstand which probably had a stash of weed, cigarettes and snacks that again, probably laced with weed. He was lucky that the chemical x in his body reversed any damage those caused or else she would have scolded him more than usual.

“Well we can get dinner, there’s this really good place that has the best pizza.”

She thought about it and almost agreed. “Well pizza sounds good but I promised Robin that we would have sushi and movie night.”

“Can I-“

“Sorry Butch, it’s ladies night.” She shrugged and finally managed to get out the door before his puppy eyes showed up.

She ignored all the stares and teasing that the other frat house mates made as she walked out the door. The green ruff was right behind her and even though she couldn’t see him, she had a feeling that dark glare was being pointed in their direction.

“You don’t need to walk me home, im a big girl.”

“I know I just felt like it.” He clicked his tongue. “Ya know babe.” She shoved him. “This is the longest time we’ve ever hung out, jusy the two of us.”

“What are you implying?” Her voice was cold.

“Nothing doll. Just, it’s nice.” He fell silent after that and took in the fresh air.

The walk to her apartment wasn’t that far but when she arrived at the steps, she was a little sad.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Butch, do your homework.” She slightly scolded.

He leaned against the handrail. “Are you gonna punish me if I do bad?” That smirk again, ugh.

A dangerous thought got into her head as she leaned closer to him, their noses barely touching and she could see his eyes slightly widen and pink dust his cheeks.

“Maybe.” And as soon as he blinked, she was already walking up the stairs to her apartment.

His eyes blew wider than before as he realized just how close she was and that damn smirk. A smile grew on his face as he pushed off the rails and headed back to his own place.

“Game on Blossy.” He whispered to himself.

—

Robin was finishing the last of her food when Blossom told her about today.

“It’s not a big deal but we’ve never really hung out before.” Why did she feel weird.

“Is he hot?”

“Robin”

“Hey I haven’t seen him since middle school and if he was a hottie back then, imagine him now.”

Blossom didn’t want to admit that Butch was hot, but he was. Slightly tanned skin with dark raven hair and of course he was ripped and tone. She saw the way his arm flexed every time he grabbed a new card and yeah maybe he was attractive, so what?

“He’s fine.” Liar. “You would probably kill over if you saw him so it’s best to keep your distance.”

A laugh bubbled out of Robin and Blossom finished her own food.

“But it’s nice to have him around, much different from Boomer or Brick. Carefree and fun, dare I say.”

Robin nodded and the girls fell back into a comfortable silence as the movie played.

“Would you date him?” She asked out of no where. “I’d bet he date you.”

“He would date anything that moves.”

“Anwser the question Bloss.” Robin was now playing with fire. Blossoms love life had never been a top priority and now with the added stress of college, it may never be.

She thought about it and shook her head. “No.”

Robin only shrugged and became engrossed with the film again. Blossom sat there wondering why she didn’t believe herself when she said no.

She pushed those feelings aside and watched the screen as the man brought the woman into a passionate kiss with a beautiful sunset behind them. Deep down she wanted that to be her.

————-

Ahhh first chapter of my newest PPG fic!!! This is dedicated and practally for all the lovely people in the fandom!!!

#the powerpuff girls #ppg x rrb #ppg #rrb #Blossom x Butch #blossutch #reds and greens #college au #slow burn #ppg fanfiction #thewritingstar #blossom x butch

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