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devine-star · 2 years

Note

*hears someone accepting eddie munson smut* *crawls out from the floorboards like some kind of demon monster*

eddie x male/mtf smut featuring overstimulation or orgasm denial i beg of you 🧎🏻

Eddie Munson x FTM!Reader

Warnings: Use of the T-slur (I am trans myself so, I feel okay using it), SMUT! Overstimulation, descriptions of fem genitals, bullying, use of weed and alcohol, dirty talk, spanking, choking, reader receiving oral.

Note: All other names besides Eddie and Y/n are fake!

Y/n stood at the entrance to the gym, his heart pounding.

'You can do this...' he pep talked himself up for roughly five minutes before pulling the doors open. All the girls truned to look in his direction and stopped whatever routine they were practing, staring at Y/n HARD.

He tried his best to act natural as he set down his gym bag calling out a small 'Hey girls!' Listening as his voice echoed back at him.

"L/n!" The coach yelled angrily stomping her way over to the person in question.

"Y-Yeah?" He stood up straight facing the red faced brunette.

"What happened to your hair!" Y/n reached up to touch his hair for a moment, he had cut it short; REAL short.

"I-uh..." The girls gathered around and began talking while pointing and giggling in his direction. "I cut it." The coach rolled her eyes before crossing her arms "I can see that! Why?!" But before Y/n could open his mouth to reply one of the girls behind the two yelled out "You look like a boy!" Causing laughter to fill the gym and bounce back into Y/n's ears.

The coached calmed the girls down before turning back to Y/n who had tears of embaressment falling down his face "You think you're a boy don't you?" The venom in the coaches voice was enough to kill a full grown man.

Y/n flinched before nodding slowly.

Rolling her eyes saying "I will-" the coach reached over to snatch the uniform that Y/n was holding in his hands causing him to jump in fear "NOT! Have a-a....TRANNY! On my cheerleading team! Get out!" She pointed to the door.

Y/n followed the given instructions, running out of the gym with tears streaming down his face.

Ever since that day, Y/n's reputation was ruined. He felt like he did the wrong thing by coming out but he also felt better! His parents didn't mind it; his father even joking saying he always wanted a son.

But at school? Y/n was tortured. Almost everyday he'd get split balls thrown his way or even smelly shit stuffed into his locker with the slur he hated so much.

One day he even came to school and in big bold black marker "Tranny" Was scrolled across his locker; he felt hopeless.

The only people that didn't treat him like shit was his small group of friends he made; they even invited him to their D&D nights! It was awesome!

But there was one person in that group that stood out to him, Eddie Munson. Now, Eddie has ALWAYS stood out to Y/n.

His style of clothing and music were interesting. He was known as the 'Freak'.

Y/n never had a chance to get close to him due to his popular status as a cheerleader but now that he was a little nobody, he was finally growing closer to Eddie.

Eddie was there when Y/n tried weed for the first time; babysat Y/n as he felt the room spinning around him almost vomiting on himself multiple times. After that night, Eddie never really let Y/n smoke as much as he did then.

Eddie was also there when Y/n tried alcohol for the first time. Once again being the mans babysitter as he tried to run off from the bonfire party they were at; even helped him with his hangover the next day!

All these things made Y/n's heart skip a beat. The cute little moments when Y/n would watch Eddie getting lost in his music, softly humming along to whatever song he was playing. Whenever Eddie would go on drunken rants about how 'People in this town wouldn't know good music if it punched them in the face!'

Little did Y/n know, Eddie had his own moments like that.

The night that Y/n got too high, sure Eddie was scared but at the same time he found the cute little giggles that Y/n would let out every now and then from the buzzed feeling would make his face warm up quickly.

Or even the night at the bonfire party when Eddie ran after Y/n into the forest. The two tripped over the same log in the dark and ended up rolling down a hill of grass; hearing the loud and happy laughter of a drunken Y/n sobered Eddie up really quick as he watched his new found friend roll in the grass babbling about how Eddie had grass in his hair.

Everything little quirk that Y/n had, Eddie found endearing. To the way his nose would sometimes schrunch up when he laughed or the way he would slap Eddie on the shoulder if he said something a bit too graphic during a joking session.

The two were falling for each other quickly but didn't quite notice it yet.

But for now, the two men were laying in Eddie's bed passing a blunt back and forth while they ranted about how stupid Y/n's old friends are.

"And dude! I didn't even notice how much of a DICK Daniel is until now!" Turning to look at Y/n Eddie smiled "Yeah?" Y/n nodded passing the blunt back to him.

"Yeah! The dude would harrass me 24 fucking 7! Constantly asking for my number and wanting a date like dude!" Y/n laughed shaking his head.

"I did hear his friends were fucking with him after you came out," Eddie mumbled taking the blunt between his lips before inhaling deeply. "People were calling him gay," Releasing the smoke Eddie chuckled to himself.

"Yeah well, I know for a FACT that he is at LEAST bisexual." Eddie turned to look at Y/n with raised eyebrows "He got caught by the coach making out with-Get this-Markus!" Eddie sat up quickly with a look of shock "Markus?!" Y/n nodded.

"As in...'best baseball player of Hawkin's high' Markus?" Y/n couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up his throat "Yes!" Eddie shook his head as his own laugh mixed with Y/n's; sounding the a symphony to his hear as it always did.

Snubbing out the blunt after Y/n denied wanting anymore, the two laid in bed again. This time in comfortable silence as they enjoyed their combined highs.

Y/n slowly turned to look at Eddie as he stared up at the ceiling; his face flushing as he stared.

Admiring the way Eddie's nose curved and the way his jaw looked at this angle, Y/n wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch the scruff that was growing on Eddie's jaw. The thought of kissing along Eddie's jaw, feeling the scruff against his lips and cheek as he went flashed across Y/n's mind; deepening the flushed color on his cheeks.

More dirty thoughts came flooding into Y/n's mind as if a dam was just broken releasing gallons of water onto an unsuspecting town.

Thoughts of how it would feel to have that scruffy jaw rubbing against Y/n's inner thighs, how it would feel to grip Eddie's hair as Y/n rode his face, or even how it would feel to have Eddie's ringed fingers wrapping around Y/n's throat as he-

"Y/n?" Jumping as if he'd just been shot Y/n stuttered out "Huh?! Uh-y-yeah?" Eddie was now facing him, a look in his eyes that Y/n couldn't quite nail.

"You okay?" Y/n nodded quickly chuckling nervously "Ye-Yeah! I'm....I'm good," Eddie chuckled, noticing that Y/n's body language had changed.

"You were...just staring at me," Eddie glanced down towards Y/n's legs smirking as he added "And rubbing your thighs together,"

Groaning while covering his face Y/n listened as Eddie began laughing "Weed got you horny huh?" Smacking Eddie on the chest groaning "Oh my Gooood!" While laughing Y/n sat up, crossing his legs together.

"It's nothing to be embarassed about! Weed does that to me too sometimes," Glancing over his shoulder Y/n took in Eddie's relaxed form.

Arms behind his head, chest rising and falling slowly, his white t-shirt raised up a bit revealing his happy trail, and the sweatpants that hung on his hips; Eddie has never looked more attractive than he did right now.

Catching Y/n's eye, Eddie smirked up at him "Like whatcha see?" Y/n nodded dumbly as he stared almost star struck.

With his heart beating loudly in his ears Eddie decided to take a chance; this could end really well or really bad.

"I can gurentee I taste a lot better than I look,"

Y/n seemed to move without his brain telling him as he climbed across Eddie's body to smash his lips into the other's. Eddie gasped sitting up slightly wrapping his arms around Y/n's waist pulling him closer while Y/n's hands got lost in Eddie's curls.

Small whines slipped from each man's throat as the kiss began to get more heated, teeth knocking against each other and tongues mixing; neither really cared.

Y/n moved his lips across Eddie's jaw, finally feeling the scuff against his face relishing at how it felt.

"Oh fuck..." Eddie gasps as Y/n began biting and sucking deep marks into his neck as his breath became quicker; allowing his hands to roam.

Y/n's hand slid under Eddie's shirt before pulling away to gently tug on the hem of it "Is this okay?" Eddie smiled at him for a moment before nodding "It's more than okay,"

Eddie's shirt was discarded along with Y/n's.

Y/n's movements stopped when Eddie's hands ghosted over the ace bandages around his chest "You said you wouldn't bind this way anymore..." he mumbles "It's dangerous," Y/n blushed looking down nodding a bit.

"Then take it off for me,"

Groaning Eddie quickly unclipped the clasp to the ace bandages before unraveling the wrap, tossing it to join their shirts on the floor. He then stopped as his hands overed over Y/n's chest looking up at him for permission.

Y/n bit his lip for a moment before nodding slowly; he may hate his chest but his need to feel Eddie's mouth on him won over that part of his mind pretty quickly.

A small hum was what Eddie heard as he gently grasped at Y/n's chest. Sitting up Eddie took one of Y/n's nipples into his mouth swirling his tongue around it enjoying the moan he was rewarded with.

Eddie himself moaned as Y/n's began grinding his hips down on his "Shit Eds..." Eddie gripped Y/n's waist helping him get a good rythem; rocking Y/n's hip back and forth giving them both the friction they so desperatly needed.

Pulling away Eddie slowly stopped Y/n's hips watching as the other man looked at him confused "I need you to tell me you actually want this, and that isn't just because you're stoned." Y/n gulped as he nodded his head frantically.

"I need this....I need this so bad Eds," The desperation in Y/n's voiced made Eddie's cock twitch in his pants. Wrapping his arms around Y/n once against before flipping the cards so now Eddie was leaning over Y/n he smirked "I'm glad I'm not the only one,"

Smashing their lips together once again while sliding his hand down Y/n's body to his jeans. With shaking hands Eddie popped the button open undoing the zipper. Y/n gasped as he felt Eddie's hands slid into his boxer breifs to slowly rub circles on his clit.

Leaning his head back while his hips bucked slightly, Eddie watched and enjoyed the faces and noises Y/n was making.

"Fuck baby, keep making those noises," Eddie quickly taking Y/n's pants off. Moving so he was between Y/n's thighs "Gonna make you feel so good," he mumbles pressing open mouthed kisses to Y/n's inner thighs. Lifting his head to watch as Eddie teased a bit by licking one long stripe along Y/n's inner thigh. "Don't tease me now baby," Chuckling as Y/n's pushed his hips towards Eddie's face; Eddie quickly began his work.

Taking Y/n into his mouth and swirling his tongue quickly "Oh-Oh fuck!" Y/n moaned loudly reached his hands down to grip Eddie's head, pushing him closer to his body as his hips rolled into Eddie's mouth. "That's it baby," Y/n panted.

Y/n's moaned spurred Eddie on as his slid on finger inside, curling it quickly to hear Y/n's moans and whines go up an octive; loving the feeling of Y/n pulling on his hair.

"Shit!"

All the sounds Y/n was making was going straight to Eddie's dick in his pants, needing some sort of stimulation Eddie began grinding against the mattress.

The movement of Eddie's hips caught Y/n's eye, he smirked looking down at the man between his legs before panting out "You gettin off to this?"

Eddie looked up through his lashes before nodding slighty "Such a dirty boy you are," Y/n said jokingly but raised his eyebrows as Eddie's head pulled away from him to moan loudly while roughly grinding against the matress harder.

"Didn't know you were into that Eddie," Y/n leaned back as Eddie slowly stood licking his lips clean before pulling his sweatpants down "Uh...I didn't either honestly," He blushed moving to grab a condom from his desk drawer. Eddie slowly rolled the condom on, moaning softly while stroking himself.

Y/n blushed watching the dirty scene in front of him. Never in a million years would he have thought THIS would happen but man was he glad it was.

"You just gonna stand there?" Eddie laughed a bit "I could," He shrugged.

"I could also go home and finish the job myself," Y/n teased back watching as Eddie quickly shook his head crawling back onto the bed.

"Don't you fucking dare," Laughing a bit Y/n allowed Eddie to pull his legs upwards, letting his calves rest on Eddie's shoulders. The two were silent until Eddie lined up and pushed himself inside of Y/n, closing his eyes and whining about how tight Y/n felt around him.

Leaning down so his full weight was on his hands; allowing Y/n's legs to fall on either side of him Eddie slowly began thrusting. Watching himself disapear inside of Y/n for a moment before looking up at the man he has come to love. "I-Oh shit," Eddie moaned speeding himself up.

"I..I''ve wanted this for a while," he admitted watching as Y/n nodded with his face contorted; mouth open and eyes clenched shut tightly. "Oh god, don't stop Eds! Pleaseee" Y/n whined gripping onto Eddie's bicepes tightly.

"I won't baby," Leaning down Eddie began sucking on Y/n's neck, groaning into it a few times before mumbling "Want everyone to know you're spoken for," His speed increasing along with Y/n's volume in moaning.

"I-I'm yours baby!" Y/n called out desperately.

"Fuck Y/n...Oh shit," Eddie whines burying his neck into Y/n's collarbone "More dirty talk...please!"

Y/n blushed moving his hands onto Eddie's back as he began spouting off whatever came to his mind "You've thought about doing this havent you?" Eddie nodded slightly.

"Thought about using me to get off huh? Such a dirty boy, thinking of your friend like that," Eddie whines repeating what Y/n had just said "I'm a dirty boy..."

"Guess that makes me a dirty boy too cause-AH!- I've thought of this too," Y/n admitted. Eddie groaned giving a few particularly hard thrusts before practically begging "What did you do? Please tell me..."

Taking a deep, yet stuttered breath, Y/n softly spoke "Used one of your shirts to jerk off," Eddie's moans went up in an octive at the vision of Y/n grinding against one of his shirts popped into his head.

"Even...jerked off here before when you did a beer run, smelling your hoodie as I did it," "Fuck! Y/n!" Eddie groaned loudly, fulling losing himself in the feeling moving back to grip Y/n's hips as he pistioned his hips quickly while angling Y/n's hips.

"Oh fuck! Eddie there please!" Y/n's train of thought was cut off as he felt the new angle Eddie was fucking him in.

The only thing on Eddie's mind right now was how good Y/n felt around him and the dirty images in his brain; he wanted to make Y/n feel so good. Reaching down between their bodies Eddie began quickly rubbing Y/n's clit mumbling to himself "Need to feel you cum around me...need it,"

Y/n arched his back reaching down for Eddie's other hand, linking their fingers together as he felt his orgasm coming like a fraight train.

No words were able to come from Y/n as he felt himself tip over the edge into pure bliss. Stars coming across his vision as his eyes rolled back; a strangle moan like yell ripped from his throat.

This spured Eddie on further, feeling Y/n tighten around him and the feeling of his pussy pusling. Eddie needed to feel it again. "Eds...I-" Y/n gasped as Eddie gripped either side of his throat "Gonna make you cum one more time baby boy, need to feel you cum again please"

Y/n couldn't help but moan and agree; he too wanting more.

Pulling out quickly Eddie flipped Y/n onto his stomach pulling his ass into the air before slipping back in. Y/n screamed in pleasure at this new angle, dropping his head onto the pillow as Eddie gripped his hair tightly in a fist.

"Holy Fuck!" Eddie felt himself close to cumming but something in his brain held him off, he needed to feel Y/n cum one more time; show him how much he wanted nothing but Y/n's pleasure.

Once again Eddie reached around and began toying with Y/n's clit, enjoying the broken moans and sobs that slipped from his lips. "That's right baby, cry for me," Eddie mumbled looking down at Y/n's face as he sobbed in pure pleasure.

"No one could ever fuck you better than me huh?" Eddie rambled smirking as Y/n called out a confirmation. "Not even Daniel could make you feel this good huh babyboy?"

Y/n's legs began shaking as overstimulation was setting in but damn it this feel too good to stop. Eddie reached a hand back bringing down onto Y/n's ass, enjoying the jolt he got from the man below him; doing it a few more times until Y/n cried out cumming for a second time.

Watching Y/n's body give out along with feeling him clench tightly for a second time was enough to push Eddie over the edge. Groaning loudly he stilled inside of Y/n grunting softly and whining as he came harder than he has ever before.

Y/n whined as the feeling of Eddie pulling out was painful; his head spinning not even noticing Eddie leave the room on shakey legs. When Eddie return he had a glass of water, a snack, and a warm rag.

"Shh, I know baby. I gotta clean you up," Eddie calmed Y/n's whines as he gently cleaned him before tossing the rag to the floor to be picked up the next day. Crawling into the bed Eddie pulled Y/n into his arms bringin the glass of water to his mouth "Open," Y/n listened drinking half the glass before laying his head back onto Eddie chest sighing softly.

"Want this now or later?" Eddie voice was soft and full of love as he held up the little pack of cookies. "Later," Y/n rasped closing his eyes listening to Eddie's heartbeat. "Okay baby, sleep for now," Pressing a kiss to Y/n's forehead Eddie then whispered "I love you,"Y/n smiled sleepily "I love you too Eds,"

#Eddie Munson x male reader #Eddie Munson x male reader smut #Eddie Munson x ftm!Reader #Eddie Munson x ftm!Reader smut

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amessywritersmind · 3 years

Text

Hurricane - Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd

A/N: I’ve recently re-fallen in love with the beauty of the movie Dazed and Confused, and there’s like literally no work for it so I decided to write my own about one of my favorite characters! It’s a friends-lovers type thing sooooo.... Enjoy ;)

I exited my car and walked towards the school entrance with a little more pep in my step today. Around me, I could hear the chatter and excitement of the kids scattered across the parking lot, a few more days and school would be out. Soon, a lot of them would be seniors, including me.

As I was walking, I saw Pickford’s bright yellow car pulling in, Pickford and Michelle inside. Thank the lord! I smiled as he sped into the parking lot, walking over to the car and leaning against the window.

“Ahhhh, Pickford! Just the man I wanted to see on this fine morning!” I said dramatically, smiling at him. He rolled his eyes putting the car into park.

“Hey Michelle!” I said to her as Pickford turned the car off, looking over to me. She smiled back, laughing at Kevin’s reaction to me.

“What do ya want now (y/n)?” He said in fake annoyance.

I nudged him gently, laughing.

“Light me, I left my lighter at home.” I said, pulling a joint out of my pocket and placing it in between my lips, leaning closer so he could light the end.

“M’Lady” He laughed dramatically, producing a lighter and sparking the end.

“Thanks man, you’re the best” You said standing back up right and smiling gratefully, taking a few drags off the thing.

“Yeah yeah, you only want me for my weed and my lighters.” He fake pouted dramatically, earning another giggle from me and Michelle.

“You know you love me!” I exclaimed, reaching in the window and ruffling his hair, much to his annoyance.

“Anyways, I gotta go find some people, I’ll catch you guys later!” I called, backing away and going to find some other friends.

I took a couple drags off the joint, making my way through the school gates and saying hi to people I knew along the way. Mid laugh (at something someone had said) I felt the joint being pulled out of my mouth. I turned quickly only to see one of my very best friends, Randall Floyd, or Pink as we all call him. I smiled at the sight of my joint hanging out of his mouth, a smirk on his lips.

“And what do you think you’re doing Mister? I chuckled, crossing my arms and giving him a look.

“Well, you know what they say (y/n), sharing is caring.” He said jokingly, taking a big hit off of it.

“Heyyyy!” I exclaimed, laughing and reaching for it.

“Don’t smoke it all! I barely got a few hits in.” I pouted as he pulled it from my reach. He laughed and threw his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in and passing the joint back to me.

“Fine, I’ll give it back Mrs. Grouch” He said, earning a nudge in the side from me.

‘You’re lucky I love you” I grumbled out, looking at him. He laughed. keeping his arm around my shoulder and walking towards the doors to the school.

“So I was wonderin’ if you’re free tonight? Maybe you can drop by mine later tonight? I’ve got some new records to listen to and a sixer just begging for us to drink it.’ Pink said, as if he’d really have to coax me into coming over. I laughed at his ‘puppy dog eyes’ all the same.

“What, no plans with the leech tonight?” I joked around, referring to his ever annoying girlfriend.

“Nahh, needed a break for one night” He said dismissively, earning a laugh from me.

“Alright, It sounds like a plan! Be there at 6?” I confirmed, stopping as we heard someone call Pink’s name. He waved to them to hold on before finally removing his arm from my shoulders.

“Sounds great! Can’t wait.” He confirmed with a smile, turning towards me and stealing the joint again, taking another hit before passing it back to me.

“See you then.” I called to him as he walked backwards, shooting finger guns my way and nearly tripping on his own feet. I laughed at how dorky he really could be at times.

I took the last drag before putting the joint out and walking into the building, nearly running straight into Slater.

“Slater! My man! How’s it going?” I said to him, doing the funky little hand shake we made up a few years back.

“Good, man! Hey! I got that stuff for you.” He said smiling like a maniac, pulling a little bag out of his pocket and handing it to me.

“You are the best my dude!” I laughed out, putting the baggie into my bag.

“Anything for you! Hey man, I’ll check ya later!” He said, shooting me finger guns and walking away. I really was friends with a bunch of dorks.

I sighed, continuing my walk to first period, now all I had to do was survive the day.

Later that day

The final bell rung out, everyone including me rushing to pack their stuff up and get out. As I was walking out of the building I saw Slater, Pickford, and Michelle hanging out in the parking lot over by Pickford’s car and decided to go say hi real quick.

“Only a few more days dudes, and then we’re seniors!’ I exclaimed as I walked up to the group. “Hey Michelle, can I bum a cig?”

She handed me one and lighter. “Thanks.”

“It’s gonna be so weird man, we’re gonna be like so....old” Slater said slowly, laughing after he realized what he said. I laughed too. I handed the lighter back to Michelle and took a drag off the stick.

“All I know is, we’ll be the top of the food chain, and i’m gonna throw a fat party to celebrate!” Pickford laughed, lighting up a joint of his own.

As I was about to reply, I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist, lifting me up slightly before setting me back down. I let out a little shout, startled, holding my cigarette out to avoid burning whoever the culprit was.

“Floyd! I swear to god I’ll kill you!” I said knowing it could be no one else.

“Oooooo, she used your last name. You’re in trouble, man!” Slater called out, laughing as Pink placed me down again and moved to my side, throwing an arm over my shoulder, as he usually did.

“Awe, look at the two love birds who won’t admit they’re lovebirds!” Pickford said mockingly, faking a gag at the end.

“Oh shove it Pickford” Pink said dismissively, waving off the comment.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want his toy to hear that.” I fake whispered to the group as they laughed along. I was referring to Simone and they all new it. They all new I couldn’t stand her, including Pink, and most of the group felt the same way.

“Alright alright, that’s enough of that.” Pink started, trying to keep the peace as always.

“Look! It’s my favorite group of little stoners!” A voice called to the left, Donnie joining the small gathering, a chorus of ‘hey Don’s’ and ‘what’s up man’s’ emitting from the group.

“Hey Don! How ya been? Haven’t seen you in a while.” I said as he reached the circle.

“Still waiting on your call, baby.” He said winking and flicking his tongue at me. I heard Pink scoff at this from beside me, but I just laughed. Donnie was Donnie after all.

“In your dreams man.” I replied smoothly.

“Oh you know it sweatheart! Anyways, I’m here for you Slater. Where’s my drugs?” He called over to the stoner, who was currently passing a joint to Michelle.

“Follow me, man.” He said with a guilty grin, him and Donnie walking away.

“Well, as much as I love hanging out with you nerds, I gotta get goin.” I said, moving to walk towards my car. Pink hooked his fingers into the belt loops on the side of my jeans, pulling me back towards him.

‘We still on for tonight?” He asked.

“Yes, sir!” I said feigning seriousness, fake saluting him. He laughed at this.

“Alright then. I shall see you tonight.” He smiled, releasing his hold on the belt loops and backing up slightly.

“See you then. Later, guys!” I called over my shoulder and hopping in my car, the radio coming to life at full volume as the car roared to life.

Today had been a fairly good day but who was I to lie, I was beyond exited for the night to come. I raced home and instantly started getting ready-showering and then getting dressed. I had a little more time to kill before I needed to head over to Pink’s so I took out the new goods from Slater and rolled a few more joints, placing 2 in the “Emergency” supply and packing the rest into my purse before slipping my shoes on and heading out.

I eventually pulled up outside Pink’s house, only to see him and Slater talking out by Pink’s car.

“Getting the party started without me, boys?” I smirked, making my way over to the little group.

“(y/n), man! It feels like it’s been forever since I saw you man.” Slater called, laughing almost nervously. Pink looked over at me as well, shooting me his award winning smile.

“Slater, I literally saw you a few hours ago” I laughed, pulling him into a hug anyways.

“My turn!” Pink exclaimed once I’d let go of Slater, holding his arms open wide with a little smile on his face. I rolled my eyes, laughing, but walking into his arms anyways, my heart skipping a beat momentarily. I just chose to ignore that bit.

“So, what’re you doing here? Not that your company isn’t a pleasure, “ I started, looking at Slater. “but i thought it was just gonna be us tonight?” I finished, looking at Pink.

“It is, he was just dropping off some supplies” Pink answered devilishly.

“Yeah, don’t worry (y/n), I’m not here to steal your man time, man” He laughed out, beginning to step away.

“You wish Slater!” I said, blushing slightly. He just shook his head, beginning to walk away. The blush intensified even more when Pink put his arm around my waist, pulling me even closer. He was usually pretty touchy, but it seemed to be amped up even more tonight.

“Thanks again, man. I’ll see you tomorrow at the Emporium?” Pink called as Slater was walking away.

“For sure man! Have fun, but not too much fun, man!” He called back, making his way around the corner.

Pink still hadn’t let go of me so I turned, putting a hand on his chest and laughing at his dopey facial expression.

“Hmmmmm, seems like someone really did start the party without me” I laughed, pinching his cheek lightly, him swatting my hand away.

“Ok maybe I smoked a tinyyyy bit, but there’s still plenty to go around” He said smirking and hooking his fingers into the front belt loops of my pants. I looked up at him, suddenly having an overwhelming urge to lean in. I snapped myself out of it though, if any of that was going to be happening tonight I’d have to be a lot more out of it than my current state.

“Well, why are we still out here then? The weed isn’t going to smoke itself!” I chuckled, breaking away from him and making my way into his house, directly to his room.

I plopped onto his bed, leaning against the headboard as Pink followed me in, closing the door and lighting some incense to mask the smell. As soon as it was good and burning, I pulled out my freshly rolled stash, lighting it and taking a drag as Pink put one of the new records on the player.

Once it was settled, he turned towards me.

“Hey now! Don’t be greedy” He laughed at me, launching himself on top of me on the bed, opening his mouth for me to place the joint in it. I complied with his wishes, sticking it in his mouth and leaning back with a smile on my face, his body still very much on top of mine.

Eventually, he moved to a more comfortable position at my side. We listened to the records, back to back, giving our respective opinions on each of the albums, going through about 4 joints and 3 beers each. By the time the last song on the last of his new records rang out, we were fairly buzzed.

“Well, that’s all of em. Now, what to do, what to do?” Pink stated, looking over to me with an idea in his eyes.

“Have anything specific in mind?” I asked absentmindedly, more focused on the brightly colored poster on the wall.

“I have an idea, yeah” He answered vaguely. I giggled lightly at his lack of explanation.

“Are you planning on sharing that idea with me or are you just gonna keep it locked up in that brain of yours?” I questioned teasingly, leaning forward to tap his temple lightly. He swatted my hand away with a laugh.

“I’ll do better, I’ll show you!” He exclaimed, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the window. I was curious now.

Before I could question his intentions further, he slid the window open and climbed out on to the roof, turning back and reaching his hand in the window, motioning for me to follow. I grabbed his hand and climbed out as well. He began walking towards the middle of the roof, my hand still clasped tightly in his own.

He sat down finally, pulling my arm along with him. I sat down quietly, leaning against his shoulder lightly. For a few long moments, there was nothing but silence. Pink stared up at the sky, lost in thought.

“Whatcha thinking about?” I asked quietly, poking his side gently.

“I don’t love her.” He answered immediately.

“What?” I replied, taken aback by the question.

“Simone. I don’t love her, I never did. In fact, we’ve been split for months, but she refuses to let me go. I don’t love her because..... well, because I love someone else” He laughed out almost incredulously, like he couldn’t believe what he was saying. Something about that statement sent a ping straight to my heart.

“Well then, that’s ok! I’m sure this girl likes you back. Who wouldn’t? Don’t worry yourself too-” before I could finish my sentence, his lips were on mine. They moved in sync briefly before he pulled away.

“It’s you. You are the girl I’m talking about. I think I’ve always known it’s you, I just never realized it.” He let out with no hesitation. As I processed what he was saying to me, my heart was dancing in my chest. This was not how I planned for the night to go, not that I’m complaining at all.

“I don’t think there's any question that I feel the same then?” I asked in a daze, still shocked by the events that had just transpired. Pink chuckled at this, shaking his head and wrapping an arm around me, pulling me closer.

“No, I don’t think so. Though, I think I should double check, just to make sure.” He stated, a goofy smile finding its way onto his face. At that, he leaned down once more, placing his lips on mine once again.

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simpingfortheages · 3 years

Text

//Test it out//

You know what pineapple does...come on ;) you know...

Ally Mayfair x Fem reader

(FLUFF! SMUT But fluff too...is-is cute ngl)

Reader comes home and sees Ally in bed, one thing leads to another.

Source: mirandascroft (sorry :( idk how to add gifs on tumblr but i still gave credit :)

Long days at the office weighed down on you so much that your shoulders ached and sagged as you walked. The feeling of every muscle in your body screaming for you to lie down, to sit, to do something other than stand. You sloppily toed off your shoes that your wore for 9 hours, leaving them to clatter in a corner. Ally will understand. The cool board floor was heavenly on your sore feet , a cool reminder that Ally probably had the AC on a few hours ago. It seemed as though just by being home it was the remedy you needed.

Tossing the hefty bag from your pained shoulder onto the counter also added to your satisfaction. A smile crept its way upon your lips, just at the idea of not having to touch that laptop bag for the next two days. "Ally?" you called out for you girlfriend. Your girlfriend for 1 year and 10 months to be precise. The best decision you ever made was to walk into that restaurant,"Ally baby?" there was no answer to your reply the first time. The further you walked into the house and made your way into the living room, you already knew that she was passed out in bed. The glass that remained with 1 inch red wine left on the short side table gave you your answer.

With an extra happiness and pep in your step you skipped your way up the stairs, jumping past every 2 steps. If Ally were awake and saw that, she would scold you for setting a bad example for Oz, which luckily for you was away spending the night with one of his schoolmates. As you continued to make your way upstairs, the white door to yours and Ally's bedroom came into view. Trying to stay as quiet as possible you pushed open the door which gave a small creak, you always mentioned to Ally about fixing that, but the brunette refused to get it oiled because she liked hearing when you came home. It was a sweet gesture.

The sight of your girlfriend on the bed that you both shared made your heart swell with love. After all the trauma and terrible things she faced before she became the senator, you made it your number one priority to shower her with all the love and care that she deserved. The floor board groaned softly beneath your naked feet as you tip toed your way to the side of the queen sized bed. There she laid sprawled out on the sheets, wearing your button up flannel shirt, hugging your pillow with one leg hitched upon it. The pillow had a faded scent of the lavender perfume you famously wore. It was Ally's favourite, she said it 'made her feel safe'. You never questioned it so you continued to wear it every day.

The 2 empty bottles situated on your wooden dresser proved that point. Before you keeled down to bestow a kiss on her soft skin, you noticed a small plastic container...was it? noo, she wouldn't. She promised to share. The irresistible smell of the pineapple juice that collected at the bottom of the container was calling you. Without thinking you lifted the container to your lips and drank the remainder of the fruit you both promised to share. You eyes opened wide at the taste of how sweet the pineapple was, after you drank every drop, you rested the bowl back on the night stand.

Apparently the soft thud against the wooden table caused the sleeping senator in the bed to stir awake. As Ally shifted on the bed to turn and face you, the loose buttoned shirt that she wore began to ride up her thighs, allowing her pink underwear to peak through. Ally stopped hugging your pillow and fully rotated her body which made her shirt move even more to reveal that your girlfriend wore no bra. She was everything that you loved, the perfect woman and person whom you wish to spend the rest of your life with. Her brown eyes slowly began to open but it wasn't opened all the way, with eyes still filled with sleep Ally squinted at you as a small smile adorned her face.

"hi baby.." her voice was soft and raspy from now waking up but it was filled with glee. " hi baby" you replied with happiness in yours. Ally sat up on the bed and neatly folded her legs as she outstretched her hands for a hug. You didn't move, instead you shot her a toothy grin and narrowed your eyes at her in a joking manner. "Where's my share Al?" the adorable look of realization that dawned on Ally's face as she turned her head to look at the empty container. "OH baby, I am sorry, it was just really sweet. It was one of the sweetest ones you brought home" she pouted her bottom lip and gave you puppy eyes.

Of course you fell for it. You playfully rolled your eyes as you shrugged off your work jacket, and threw it on the chair that already had clothes from previous work days,"Well Ms Mayfair, your going to have to pay me back for that." Ally quirked an eyebrow at your sudden statement and flopped her hand down on the bed with a loud huff, "well y/n I can buy you back one tomorrow." you shook your head 'no' at her way to rectifying the situation. You knew she was a little salty now from the lack of attention she was receiving. Usually you'd shower her in kisses and take the hug that she offered when you came home, however you had another plan in store. Ally furrowed her eyebrows,"well how to make it back up to you?". You knew exactly how she could repay you.

After you removed most of your work clothes you were standing at the bedside in only your shirt with a cute fuming Ally in the bed."Don't look at me like that. You ate all the pineapple that YOU promised we'd share, I came home all excited to eat it." Ally scoffed loudly at your reply, her eyebrows went up in shock,"So that's ALLLLL you came home excited for y/n?" she threw her hands up in frustration."Yes Ally. I did" at this point the senator folded her arms tightly against her chest staring daggers at you with an annoyed look plastered on her face.

"omg Ally of course I am kidding, I came home for YOUUU toooo.." you jumped on the bed and lovingly wrapped your arms around her. To make up for rejecting her hug from before you showered her with kisses all over her pouted lips, and face. Ally's fake being angry demeanor broke when your lips trailed to her neck. She always giggled when you kissed there , she was ticklish. It was one of the things your adored and did quite often to get a reaction out of her. "Y/N Stopp!!" Ally laughed uncontrollably, she pressed the heels of her palm into your chest to try and push you off, but you were relentless."Are you ready to pay me back now?" you pulled away to allow her to catch her breathe.

"wa-wait so...so the tickle attack wasn't the payback?" Ally spoke through her struggle to regulate her breathing." NO way, you owe me big time sooo..." you stopped mid sentence to make sure she was listening to you."SOO what y/n? you know I don't like being left in suspense" you playfully rolled your eyes at her impatience,"SOooo.. you remembered that article that we read and thought was a lie?" you said watching the small gears turn in Ally's head. When she realized what you meant, a pink blush crept it's way onto her chest and face.

"I mean you do owe me baby."you continued to plant more kisses atop her flushed skin, however this time it was slow and filled with a sensual intent. Ally craned her neck to the side to expose more of her skin for you to place your lips upon,"I- i'd like to try that" the way that she stuttered her words were heavenly, you knew you had her where you wanted.When you reached her pulse point you bite down roughly and sucked at the area until you were sure that blood rushed to the surface. You usually weren't allowed to leave hickies on her since she had work, but due to her winning the last election she had gotten a lot more time off to relax and that meant staying home a little longer with you.

Ally laced her hands through your hair as you marked her beautiful skin, while she pulled at your roots for every bite you made. An almost silent whimper escaped Ally's lips, a small indication that she wanted more. Over the months of being together you learnt the little signs she gave when she wanted something. One of the ways being the way she would begin to chew on her nails when she is hungry or the way that she would start to clean when she is stressed, you learned Ally inside out and you loved every inch of her.

With every kiss you bestowed upon her soft skin, you whispered a small ' i love you'. It was soft but Ally was close enough to hear every word. She cherished these moments with you, the way you managed to make every second with her something special and memorable. It was something she held dearly to her heart. As you trailed your lips lower and lower, the coldness in the room made her skin pebbled, the hairs on her body stood up as well with the more kisses you left on her. Touching and caressing every freckle that beautified her body. She was a walking masterpiece indeed. And she was yours.

Watching at how cute and desperately her hips bucked for your attention, you adorned her inner thighs with more kisses, spitefully skipping past the area you knew she needed you the most."Please y/n, I needed you since before you came ho-home. I didn't even try anything" her words invoked a fire within you, a fire fueled with desire and passion to please your girlfriend. Especially since she held back for so long. Out of the kindness in your heart, you decided to skip the foreplay and get right to it. Immediately you wrapped your plump lips around her pink bundle of nerves, sucking in sharp bursts to invoke more pleasure. Your girlfriend threw her head back against the pillows below as she laced and entangled her hands into your hair.

Words mixed of profanity and your name were continuously being moaned and whimpered from Ally's mouth. Hearing her curse shot straight heat to your own core. It was sexy, Ally never used words like that even in anger when Ozzy was around. Thank God he wasn't, you silently thanked the universe."oh Yes Y/n Suck it suck it suck it.." her lewd comments caused the flaem inside of you to burn brighter. You softly kitten licked at her clit, bringing your tongue's attention to the dripping arousal that was caused by you. Slipping your tongue pain stalking slow through her swollen pink folds, to gather and collect the sweet arousal you've been waiting to taste for so long. Ally's nails scrapped along your scalp from the sensation of your tongue.

She was basically dripping honey. The aroma.The taste...all of it was addictive and you couldn't get enough. As you lapped at her cunt, the senator, whose legs you were currently between,were clamping down on your head.It'd really be the best way to go out. But you were far from finished."Ally...we seem to have a problem." you spoke from between her legs, your girlfriend parted her legs and looked at you with worry,"what's the problem?".

"It's just that you taste sweeter than the pineapple." the blood rushed to Ally's cheek making her blush."And why's that bad?" she questioned."It's just that I can't get enough.." you smirked in reply as you returned your head to her dripping core. Taking your middle and ring finger, you ran it up her slit to gather her arousal.As you did so, you toyed at her dripping entrance causing Ally to whimper once more, having teased her enough, you plunged your fingers into her pussy.

Immediately her back arched off the bed, the weak springs in the bed creaked as your woman moved in pleasure. Her head twisting and turning on the pillow. Never stopping from moving inside her, you curled your fingers, grazing and caressing her g spot. She was pulling you in, her warm tight muscles begging for more of you as her arousal dripped down your hand. You loved every moment of this."Faster y/n ...fas-" her second orgasm stopped her mid sentence overtaken by loud moans. Hands fisting and gathering your hair in her palms as her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her head was empty of everything else but your name which she yelled till high heaven.

Your eyes locked onto her pussy, watching as her sensitive entrance fluttered trying to regain normalcy. You couldn't just lay between her legs watching her delicious essence drip onto the sex stained sheet. Ally was tired from her two highs that she had in a row, but she didn't know you intended to collect the rest of her."Ahh shit y/n baby please- please I can't" she felt you softly lick her, she was now pushing your head away from her center.

Tears prickled at the corner of her eyes as she pleaded, it was the most intense orgasm she has had in a while. Looking up at her you smiled and complied to the words of your girlfriend."Very well baby." You missed moments and times like this, just you and her. Usually after sex she would be off scurrying to finish off some work instead of laying beside you. "Next time you'll get to eat the pineapple. I wanna try it.." Ally spoke seductively yet there was a hint of sleepiness in her voice. You turned your head and took in her disheveled state. Only you got to see the pristine and up tight Ally Mayfair like this... you were lucky and grateful for her.

Your girlfriend shot you a small wink before getting off of the bed and making her way to the bathroom, giving you a full view of her plump naked ass. Swaying her hips as she walked away. That was all yours, and you planned to make it so. The diamond ring tucked away behind your clothes in your dresser held that promise...

#ally mayfair richards #ally mayfair x reader #fluff #pineappleee juice power #w/w #gae #american horror story #season 7 #cult #ally mayfair

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chocoluckchipz · 3 years

Text

A Soulmate for Christmas - 4

< Previous

Marinette rushed through the hallways to the kitchen. She’d been absent for far too long. Hopefully, Maman hadn’t sent out a search party to find her yet. Sometimes, she worried too much.

Not this time, apparently. When Marinette finally returned to the kitchen, Sabine was giving her work to another server with a smile on her face. "Take these next, dear.”

"Oh. Coconut. I love those. May I steal one?"

Marinette froze. That... was not a server.

Adrien gave her mother the most killer set of puppy eyes she’d ever seen, picking the tray up. His jacket was gone, leaving him sporting only a shirt and a vest, just like all the other male servers at the party. Only his were of much better quality.

Sabine offered him a macaroon from her board. "Take this one and leave the arranged ones for the guests." Her gaze finally caught Marinette. "Sweetheart. There you are. I was starting to worry."

"I got caught up with something. I’m sorry, Maman. I’ll get right to it." Marinette walked closer, looking at Adrien. "What are you doing here?"

"Helping." He shoved the macaron into his mouth and chewed. "Your mother was looking for you, and since I’m pretty sure it’s my fault you were missing, I thought it was only fair for me to help out."

"Thanks, but I’m here now. You can go."

"As you wish." The tray in his hands, Adrien turned to the exit and was gone before Marinette could object.

“Such a nice young man,” Sabine said as soon as they were left alone. “We’d better think about how we can thank him. He’s been helping me for the last fifteen minutes. Can you imagine? Just walked in, asked about you, and offered to help. I’ll leave him some macarons. He seems to have a sweet tooth. Speaking of which… I think the next batch is done. Where did I put those oven mittens?"

Marinette nibbled on her lip. How much had he said? Maman knew about her soulmate, but she didn’t seem to realize that he was Adrien. How did she even not recognize he was Adrien Agreste, the boy whose photos had been plastered all over Marinette’s room for ages?

"Did… he tell you anything about himself?"

"Just that he’s your friend,” Sabine answered, taking the pastries out of the oven. “Why? Is there anything—"

A loud thud echoed through the room as the baking sheet her mother was just taking out hit the ground. Sabine pushed the young girl who was working beside her away from a pot of hot, steaming liquid that was falling sideways. The girl stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. Sabine wasn't as fortunate. She tried to dodge but was a moment too late as the boiling liquid splashed all over her hands, scalding the skin.

"Maman!" Marinette rushed to the woman.

“I’m so sorry,” the girl almost cried from the side. “I didn’t mean to… I don't know how it slipped. I—”

Marinette didn't listen, rushing her mother to the nearest sink. She turned the tap on, made sure the water was cool, and put Sabine’s reddening hands under the stream. Her mother sighed with relief. The girl she saved quickly got to cleaning as she continued to apologize. Sabine tried to play it down, insisting it wasn’t a big deal and she would be back to working in no time. Yet a few minutes later, her skin started to blister.

“You’re going home, Maman. This needs to be treated.”

“Marinette, I can’t,” Sabine spoke quietly. “We have a contract to honour…"

"I’ll deal with it. You’re going home. You can’t work like that."

"But—"

"No objections. I’m calling someone right now to take you home. I’ll finish this on my own."

"What happened?" Adrien materialized by her side. One look at her mother’s hands and he was pulling out his cellphone. “My driver can take her straight to a hospital.”

Sabine tried to protest but neither of them listened.

“It doesn't look that bad, but maybe you’re right. Taking extra precaution wouldn't hurt.”

“It never does. I'll tell him to stay with her and drive her home after. If she needs any prescriptions, he’ll take care of that too.”

And there he was. That caring man Kagami and Chloe had told her about was shining through, not hesitating to help others, even if that meant sacrificing his own comfort for those who needed help.

“Okay.” He put his device away. “Gorilla will be by the rear entrance in a few minutes. Let’s wrap her hands and get her there.”

Before Marinette could concentrate on what to do, Adrien found a pair of clean kitchen towels and soaked them in cool water. They wrapped them around Sabine’s hands and headed to the appointed place. Five minutes later, the largest man Marinette had ever seen was driving her mother away.

“She’ll be fine,” Adrien spoke, standing right behind her. “Gorilla will keep us updated on what's happening.”

She couldn't even raise her eyes to look at him. How could he be so kind to her after the way she treated him just now? Marinette clutched her hands together, whispering instead, “Thank you.”

"No worries,” Adrien replied, hesitantly reaching for her shoulder. A few gentle pats for reassurance, and he withdrew. “I believe we have a job to do. Shall we get to it, my Lady? I’m almost out of macarons to serve.”

She turned around, arching her eyebrow. Not that she didn't like the nickname, but they haven't even talked yet. When did she become his Lady? What was up with that cocky, smouldering look on his face, and why were there crumbs all over his vest?

"You’d have macarons to serve if you stopped eating them." She pointed to the evidence.

"But they are delicious."

"They are for guests."

"And I am one."

"Then why are you here, parading as help?"

He leaned closer, their noses almost touching as he grinned. "Because my Lady needs help, and as her cat, I cannot refuse."

That arrogant smirk! She both loved and hated it. Wanted to smack him and kiss those lips of his. He was so much nicer in her imagination. His friends described him as a saint. Not this annoying, cocky dork!

"Don’t get in my way, or you’re out." She turned around and stomped to their bakery station in the kitchen. There was too much work still to do. Marinette wasn’t even sure where to start. Thankfully, the girl had cleaned the mess. Perhaps, Marinette should start with seeing what ingredients they still have to figure out what to make. Wasn't there a list Maman made? Where did it go?

A pair of arms wrapped around her from behind. Adrien leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Close your eyes."

"I don’t have time for this."

"I know, but trust me. Close your eyes. Please."

She grumbled but obliged him. The quicker she did whatever it was he wanted, the faster she could continue. If only his touch and closeness didn’t send her heart into overdrive…

"Now, breathe in. Deep and slow."

She did, oxygen filling every part of her lungs.

"Breathe out. Slowly."

She let it all out and followed Adrien’s instructions a few more times until he tenderly kissed the crown of her head. "Now, let’s do this. You bake and assemble. I serve. And afterwards, perhaps, you’ll give me a chance to explain everything."

She opened her eyes, exhaustion and the chaos in her mind somewhat subdued. "You don’t give up, do you?"

"I’ve waited for far too many years to let a simple misunderstanding stand in my way."

***

"I think this is the last of it," Marinette stuffed the last few mixing bowls in the trunk of her car. "Thank you… for everything. I know it’s cliché, but I couldn’t have done this without you."

"Perhaps, you’ll let me explain the situation as a reward for all my hard work?"

His cellphone rang. Adrien glanced at the screen and refused the call. "It’s Chloe. I’ll call her back. So, my reward?"

His phone rang again, Adrien refused the call once more and looked at Marinette. "Please? It won’t take long."

"Your friends—"

The pestering sound split the space between them for the third time.

Marinette smiled at him."Take it."

"I don’t want—"

"I’ll wait. I promise. Take it."

He pressed the button and put the speaker on, the familiar voice of Chloe Bourgeois filling the space. "Adrinkins, you’d better have a good explanation for hanging up on me."

"I'm kind of in the middle of something right now," Adrien said. "Do you mind if I call you back in a bit?"

"Okay, fine. But just so you know, while you were prowling about, we put on a show, and Gami’s living with me now."

"I’ve been officially disowned," Kagami deadpanned. "You may congratulate me now."

"Welcome to the club?" Adrien chuckled. "I was hoping she would be more reasonable."

"She’ll come around eventually… maybe," Kagami said. "She thinks it’s one of those childish desires of mine, and I’ll come to my senses soon enough."

"But you two are soulmates? You have the marks to prove it."

"Soulmate marks or not, I’m not what Tomoe Tsurugi considers ‘best’ for their family," Chloe answered. "And I’m sure I don’t have to explain that woman’s obsession with ‘sacrificing in the family’s name’ to you. Oh! Before I forget. You were adorable as a waiter, Adrinkins. I’ve snapped a few pictures. Will post to our group chat later."

"Sure. Is that all? Can I go now?"

"Tell him about Marinette," Kagami whispered. "About our conversation."

"Oh, right," Chloe grumbled. "We told your lady-love everything. About Kagami and you and me and all the fake-ness of your engagement and non-existence of your dating life. If she knows what’s good for her, you should be good."

Adrien’s eyes locked on Marinette. "You told her everything?"

"We spared her the sappy stories of you being depressed for months at a time over the whole ‘can’t find my soulmate’ thing," Kagami replied.

“The constant, crying phone calls,” Chloe added. “The ice cream we had to bring over to our ‘Find the Ladybug’ brainstorming sessions.”

“All the pep talks we’ve given you,” Kagami finished. “And the few private detectives you hired to find her. Otherwise, you have no secrets from her now."

"You’re welcome, Adrinkins! Now, go. Adios. Call us when you get a date. We’ll celebrate."

"I will." Adrien ended the call. A blush raged across his cheeks as he lifted his eyes to Marinette. "So, uh... that’s why you didn’t kick my ass out of the kitchen?"

"You have good friends." Marinette smiled. "They care about you a lot."

"Does that mean I’m forgiven?"

She nodded. "Only if you forgive me for freaking out on you."

He grabbed her hand, bringing it to the lovesick grin on his lips. "I never held that against you. You had all the rights in the universe to be pissed at me."

His lips brushed against her hand, the mark of a black cat lighting up the space around them. "I know we haven't known each other for that long, but we aren't soulmates for nothing. I really like you. You're driven and passionate. Kind and creative. You value family and are an amazing cook. Perhaps fate knew a thing or two when it paired us together. I’d really love a chance to get to know you better, Marinette."

His eyes sparkled with hope, a slight undercurrent of worry lurking beneath. Marinette couldn’t refuse him even if she wanted to. He really did seem like a great guy. "I’d like that too. You aren’t so bad yourself. Not perfect, but decent enough."

It was a total lie because who was she kidding? He was perfect! Didn’t mean she wanted to feed that already inflated ego of his.

"Really?" He leaned forward. "So, all my fame, looks, and money don’t make me perfect in your eyes?"

Marinette huffed, pulling her hand away just so she could push his way-too-close face away with her finger. "Not even close,” she teased, tapping his nose. “You’re standing here only because of what your friends told me."

"Share. What did they say about me?"

She let out a giggle. "Nothing too horrible."

"Well, now, you’re scaring me. Did they tell you about my feather allergies?"

"Nope, but you just did."

"Lactose intolerance?"

She chuckled. "Wrong again."

"Social inadequacy?"

Marinette couldn’t hold back a laugh.

"I'm low-key freaking out. What did those two say?"

She took a moment to calm down before replying. "They told me about your big, kind heart, one that doesn't think twice about sacrificing its own desires and comfort for the sake of others. I saw it for myself today when you helped my mother. That’s precious and rare. I like that."

He looked at her in awe for a moment before blurting out, "Can I kiss you right now, or do I have to wait until our first official date?"

Marinette laughed again. "You should’ve just gone for it. Now, the moment’s ruined."

"Ugh, bummer." Adrien mockingly pouted. "Then, tell me, what are you doing for Christmas this year?"

"Nursing my parents back to health."

"Would you mind some company?"

"Don’t you have your family to spend Christmas with?"

He shrugged. "Not really. My father has become a Grinch since… well, since Mom passed away. And I’m sure Chloe and Kagami wouldn’t mind if their third wheel would finally leave them alone."

"They did mention you aren’t on the best terms with your father."

Adrien sighed, leaning on her car. "We aren’t officially feuding or anything. It’s just that… when Mom passed away, Father became very controlling and demanding, stripped me of all freedom, and loaded me with work. I was just a kid; I couldn’t do much about it. Two years ago, I got access to the fund my mom left me, so I moved out. I still work for him, but at least he doesn’t control my every move anymore."

"It doesn’t sound like you’re much of a family, to be honest."

His smile was bittersweet. "Not that I wanted it to be this way. It’s… complicated."

Perhaps she was naive, but Marinette couldn’t imagine having a living father and wanting nothing to do with him. "Do you think you'd want to reconnect with him someday?"

Adrien shrugged. "Not sure anymore. He used to be a great dad when I was little. The three of us had so much fun together…" A smile briefly touched his lips as Adrien paused for a moment. "I always thought if I behaved and did everything he wanted, he’d snap out of whatever it is that made him so cold but… it never happened. With time, I just gave up on even trying." Turning her way, he reached for her hand, gently cradling it in his. "I’d rather spend my time and energy on someone who wants to get to know me as much as I want to get to know them. Like you, for example. Perhaps tomorrow? Helping you nurse your parents back to health?"

Her heart skipped a bit, and he hadn’t even done anything more than look at her and hold her hand. “Okay.”

He brought her hand to his lips again, enjoying the view of a glowing cat on her skin. "I’ll have to give you a Christmas gift later, though. Pretty sure I won’t be able to find anything at such late notice."

"Don't worry about it. I already got everything I ever wanted."

The chime of the clock thundered through the night air, announcing midnight. Adrien looked its way, murmuring something about turning back into a pumpkin. Marinette wasn’t sure why, but she reached forward, hesitantly laying her hand on his chest. The mark underneath his shirt glowed, its light reflecting in his eyes as he looked back at her with the gentlest of gazes. She couldn’t take her eyes away even if she wanted to because the man before her was a far cry from what she’d ever imagined him to be. She was a goner already, and she didn’t care. The feeling in her chest was just too pleasant. Warm. Fuzzy. Addicting. Something stronger and deeper than anything she’d ever experienced. Something much more beautiful and meaningful than a teenage crush.

She couldn’t help herself. Marinette stood on her tiptoes and pulled Adrien down for a tender brush of her lips against his cheek.

He looked at her with wide-opened eyes and a deep blush spreading across his face. "I…um… I didn’t… expect that."

"Is that okay?"

He feverishly nodded. "Yes! More than okay. A lot more okay than all the okays in the world. May I… may I return the gesture?"

"Please.”

He leaned down, aiming for her cheek. Somehow he missed, his lips landing on hers. Neither of them seemed to mind, treating each other to the sweetest kiss one could imagine. Pulling back slightly, Adrien rested his forehead against hers, his eyes locked on hers.

"A soulmate for Christmas. Best present ever."

If Marinette’s heart wasn’t in overdrive before, it sure was now. She couldn’t help but agree with his sentiment. "Merry Christmas, Adrien."

"Merry Christmas, my Lady."

Next >

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#miraculous ladybug #adrienette #soulmates #adrinette #fluff #light angst #misunderstanding #happy end #aged up #no magic au #soulmate marks

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zwowow · 3 years

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aight fine

em seeing kells have a panic attack (pre dating era) and not believing it at first

You said "aight fine" lmaooooo

The kid is obviously faking. He's sitting on the floor, acting catatonic as fuck with his arms wrapped around his long legs. He looks like he's having some sort of panic attack, and he's so good Marshall almost believed it. But it's too raw, too vulnerable to share with someone. He wouldn't let anybody see him in this state, so why, unless he's faking the whole thing, would Kelly sit there, unmoving except his rapidly darting eyes instead of leaving and having a moment to himself?

"Will you drop the fucking act and get up?" Marshall had just walked into the room to talk to Kelly before they were supposed to go out and publicly end their beef, but he wants to walk back out now. If this is the way the kid wants to act then he can fucking do it, Marshall just won't be a part of it.

It wasn't like he needed to publicly end their feud anyway, neither of their sales were hurting and he can't lie, having someone to pick on in a song every once in a while is pretty fun. He's only doing this because he's seen the comments the kid get and he's heard whatever success Kelly has be torn down just to build him up. He knows what it's like to be put down relentlessly, so when the opportunity presented itself to end that for the kid, or at least slow it down, he took it. Now, he almost regrets it. Kelly can't be for real, can he?

Then the kids darting eyes look straight into his, and his heart clenches. There are tears in the kids eyes, but he's not sad. He's scared. There's desperation rolling off of him and Marshall wonders how he was ever so convinced this was an act.

"Kid?" He takes a step closer, then stops when Kells draws his legs in closer to himself. His breathing is shallow and fast. "Kelly?" He tries again, softer this time. He hadn't expected to want and help this guy so much, but there's something about him he's inexplicably drawn to and feels obligated to protect.

But he can't protect Kelly from anything when he barely knows how to get himself out of that type of nervous state, and isn't sure what is setting him off. He really doesn't know how to help, but he feels so bad for the kid he has to try.

Carefully, he takes a couple more steps toward the kid, pausing between each one to make sure he isn't scaring him off. But he doesn't move, just sits there staring wearily, curled almost painfully tight against the wall.

When Em finally reaches him, he isn't sure what to do. Does he tell the kid everything will work out fine? Does he sit down next to him and just be there and present for if and when he snaps out of it and wants to talk? Does he fucking pet his head?

"Can I sit?" He asks, because he doesn't know what else to do. The kid doesn't respond, just keeps that weary stare trained on him. He sits.

"'m sorry I said u were faking it." He offers after he's been sitting for over a minute with no response. Still, the kid says nothing.

"It's rough, yeah, that anxiety shit? Like, I don't know, you can hear the voice of every one of the people who thinks you aren't shit and everything you do just proves them right." He isn't sure what hes trying to say, so he keeps going hoping to find it. "I used to get those like panic attacks too, before I went on stage, before that even when battled, but at some point you just gotta say 'fuck it' and stop caring, ya know?"

Marshall snorts when he sees Kelly raise his eyebrow. Yeah, what he said was a little corny, but the first thing the guy does to show any response is raise his eyebrow like that? It's cute, though.

"Is today what's got you all fucked up?" Their reconciliation on a personal level will be easy. The follow up from their fans and haters alike will be the hard part. They both know it.

Kelly just nods.

"I mean, what's the worst that happens? You get more hate comments than you already do? Pretty much impossible. And even if you do, that's on them. You're not responsible for what other people think... thought you'd have learned that by now." Marshall isn't great at the pep talk, but as he goes on, Kelly's labored breathing starts to even out, and his white knuckle grip on his legs looses up and his hands drop limply to the floor. His exposed palm, pretty much the only part of him not tattoed, looks open for Marshall to hold.

"Fuck it. Whatever is gonna happen, will happen, right? Before I knew you were freaking the fuck out, thats what I came in here to tell you. We're probably both gonna get shit for this, but who the fuck cares? At least we're gonna go through the same shit together." It's more corny shit, but this time Kelly doesn't look funnily at him, instead there's admiration and gratitude in his pretty eyes. Marshall wants to lean over and kiss him.

He settles for just reaching over and grabbing his hand. Kelly's hand is shock stiff at first, then, while looking at Marshall, he relaxes and weaves together their fingers. He's both surprised and not at how well they fit.

#aight fine #hit me with the ouch #emgk #kells hates being called kelly #but em doesnt know that #yet...#zwowfic

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found (Seventeen)

Get some tissues ready, folks.

MASTERLIST HERE

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

It had been three days.

Three days of calling Tony and the phone going right to voicemail, three days of reconnecting with Stevie, three days of pre- war memories coming back sometimes in a trickle that made James smile, sometimes in a shock wave that sent the soldier to his knees with a migraine.

Three days, and James’s head spun trying to keep it all together, trying to keep it all straight, trying to piece together all the parts of who he had been and who he was now and how it all reconciled with the nightmares and horror that came back full force without Tony by his side.

Three days, and sometimes James wished he could lose track of time like he used to so each and every second wouldn’t be so crystal clear, so clarifying and so real.

Three days and sometimes it was already too much.

Three days and sometimes the moments were so good they hurt.

“I still can’t believe it’s actually you.” Three days and seventy damn years and Steve was proving he hadn’t ever lost the habit of lurking in James’s door, hands in his pockets and eyes wide as he watched the brunette clean up in the bathroom. “Holy hell, Buck. I looked for you for so long. And you were just hanging out with Howard’s kid? Three days ago Tony Stark walked into my apartment with a picture of you and just like that, here you are. I can’t believe it.”

“Can’t believe it either, Stevie.” James rinsed the shaving cream off his face and smoothed his right hand over the trimmed-but-not-quite-shaved stubble. It had only been three days since Tony had dropped him off and left without a word. Three days of a lot of wondering and a lot of worrying and a lot of disbelief because it was Stevie--- “How did I miss your star spangled ass getting pulled outta the ocean and set loose overseas again?”

“Well, you weren’t around to see me go in the ice the first time, so I guess it makes sense you missed me coming back this time around.” The smile slid from Steve’s face, his mouth pulling down at the corners. “Listen, Buck I dunno what you heard about all that. About the Valkyrie and the Red Skull and what I did at the end of the war but--””

“I heard enough to know you’re overdue for an ass whoopin’.” James retorted and see? This was good enough to hurt, easy enough to almost be instinct. Threatening Steve with bodily harm cos the punk hadn’t learned any lessons back when he was all of four fuckin’ feet tall and he certainly hadn’t learned them after they juiced him up and sometimes the brash blond just needed a reminder to chill the hell out?

Easy.

James could do this all day.

“What the hell were you thinkin’, putting the damn plane in the ice anyway.” He teased. “Everyone knows your scrawny ass can’t swim.”

Instantly predictably Steve straightened up and set his jaw and snapped, “Hey! I know how to swim! I am an excellent swimmer!”

“You know how’ta drown.” James corrected and then oofed theatrically loud when he was yanked out of the bedroom and into a wrestling match.

It was easy and it was good and none of James’s more scary instincts came forward when Steve got him into a headlock, the urge to break didn’t show up overwhelming when he tossed the blond halfway across the room then jumped over and pinned him to the floor.

“Say Uncle.” James ordered and he was laughing, not counting how many pounds of pressure it would take to crumble Steve’s bones between his fingers. “Damn you, Stevie. Say Uncle before I gotta hurt you!”

“I’m goddamn--” Steve was huffing and puffing trying to get James off of him. “Captain America-- I don’t cry Uncle-- good god, why do you weigh so much?-- to any one!”

“Sure you don’t.” James grinned and lay harder on his best friend. “Y’know what this reminds me of?”

“If you say it’s like the time I tried to beat up the alter boy--”

“--it’s just like th’time you tried to beat up the alter boy.” James confirmed, batting away Steve’s hand when the blond made a grab for his throat. “In fact, I feel like I sat on you exactly like this to keep ya from gettin’ your butt beat with a hymnal.”

“Damn it.” Steve wheezed a few times, then finally managed the leverage to shove James off and to the side. “Why are you so heavy? Last time we wrestled I destroyed you.”

“Last time we wrestled you were super juiced and I was still a good ol’ boy from the poor end of Brooklyn.” James jumped to his feet and hauled Steve up next to him. “Least now the playing field is even.”

“I guess.” Steve went for a beer and tossed one to James. “I hate that it’s the case though. M’glad to see you, but I hate seein’ you like this, you know?”

“Don’t.” James tore the top off the beer and shook his head. “I don’t wanna talk about it yet, Stevie.”

“Alright.” Steve took a sip of his beer and nodded like ignoring the elephant of the Winter Soldier in the room wasn’t making him half insane. He should just be happy to have Bucky back, he should just be happy to have his friend back, they didn’t have to talk about everything bad yet. “Alright, well have you heard about World Wrestling Entertainment on TV?”

“World Wrestling…”

“WWE?” Steve’s goofy grin almost split his face. “They dress up in funky costumes and wrestle each other with all these fancy moves. I watch it on Saturday nights. We could watch it and drink beer and yell at the TV and then try the moves on each other!”

James fought and lost against an equally goofy grin. “That’s what Captain America does on Saturday night? Watch fake wrestling and drink beer?”

“When I’m not out blowing buildings up and hurting people until they told me how to find you.” Steve took a long drink of his beer, blue eyes glittering with a flash of anger. “But I found you, so now I get to watch bad television and try to get drunk with my best pal.”

“Sounds like a good time.” James raised his bottle in a cheers, and when Steve turned to head towards the living room, James picked up his phone and sent a quick message to Tony.

From James: Three days with Stevie has been great, Tony but I sure wish you’d call me back. Pep says you’re probably just giving us space but I don’t want space from you. Call me back.

“Buck!”

“Comin’, Stevie.”

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

79%

The sunrise from the top of the Eiffel Tower was incredible to see and Tony watched it while munching on possibly the freshest, most delicious croissant he could have ever imagined eating ever.

He’d been to France a hundred times, he’d even been to Paris and the Eiffel Tower specifically a hundred times but he’d never broken the sound barrier while coming in for a landing that had him on very tip toes at the very tip top so he could test the absolute balance of the suit while eating a breakfast he’d bought with a Rolex for since he never had any cash on him.

The croissant was worth the Rolex though, the look on the vendor’s face when Iron Man landed in front of his stall completely priceless and the view of the sun coming up over the city would have only been worth more if someone had been there to share it with.

“Sir, the hotel is calling. They want to know if you will be staying another night.”

“Tell them no.” Tony shook his head and crammed the last bite of croissant into his mouth. “Three days in France is enough, I saw the coast and the city and the countryside so it’s time to move on. I read in a pamphlet that there are something like twenty thousand castles in Germany, is that true?”

“Most have been converted to hotels and museums by now, but yes sir, there are several thousand that you could visit if you wanted.”

“I want.” Tony decided. “Let’s get a map and go sight seeing.”

“Sir, the effort of assembling and disassembling this particular suit--”

“Yeah, I know.” Tony interrupted. “It stresses my system too much. But I’ve never just traveled for the sake of traveling and the best way to do that is at some number with Mach in front of it. Plug in some coordinates and let’s go.”

“And the phone calls from Sergeant Barnes and Ms. Potts?”

“Send Pepper a message and let her know I’m just fine.” The sun lit up the grounds below the Tower and Tony took a deep breath of early morning air. “I’ve disappeared for longer doing much worse than sight seeing, let her know this isn’t anything like the last time I did a tour around Europe.”

“And Sergeant Barnes?”

“Tell James--” Tony closed his eyes and swallowed. “Tell Bucky that I hope he’s enjoying his time with Captain Rogers and that I’ll get in contact with him when I return home.”

“An estimated return date, sir?”

The face plate snapped down and locked and Tony blinked a few times as the display screens filled in, the numbers uploaded from the blood toxicity monitor bright red along the bottom right hand side.

79%

“A couple weeks, maybe.” he muttered, and then louder, “No, don’t bother with a return date. Just tell him I’ll call him when I’m home again.”

“Yes sir. To castles, then?”

“To castles.” The suit powered up with a roar, and Tony offered a quick salute to the crowd gathered down below with their phones and cameras out. “Maybe we’ll ever get lucky and find a dragon.”

“I think you’ve fought enough battles for one life time, sir”

Tony’s smile was a little melancholy. “You’d think so, huh?”

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

From James: Got the message from JARVIS and I hope you’re back home soon. I’m feeling more like myself every day, all my memories coming back. Some days it feels incredible and some days it feels like I’m living a strangers life, but me and Stevie are figuring it out together.

From James: Do you ever watch WWE? Stevie loves it and has a bunch recorded...or TV’ed? I dunno. Anyway. He says he would be Hollywood Hulk Hogan if he ever went into the ring and I told him there’s no way he could grow a mustache like that, then he punched me.

From James: The dude’s a punk whether he’s pint sized or full sized.

From James: Miss ya, sweet thing.

“The best thing about this century is the food.” Steve said around a mouthful of deep dish supreme pizza. “Not only can I eat everything without getting sick, but everything is so damn good. Deep dish pizza in two dozen flavors. Chocolate milk-- have you had chocolate milk yet, Buck? And mozzarella sticks? They just deep fry cheese! Just deep fry it and then serve it to ya with a bunch of sauce. The other day I ate about a hundred of them and didn’t get a stomach ache. Incredible. And oh man donuts.”

The big blond picked up another piece and folded it in half so he could take a big bite. “Have you had donuts yet? So many flavors. All of them delicious.”

“Tony took me to get donuts a few weeks ago.” James checked his phone again and then one more time. It had been nine days now since he’d last seen Tony, his text messages going unanswered and phone calls dumped to voicemail. Nine days and even though every second spent with Steve gave James something of himself back, every second spent away from Tony cost him something too and it was a delicate balance between wanting and losing and James hated it.

“We ate them up inside that big donut down by the pier in Malibu.” he continued and Steve mumbled interested around a glob of cheese. “It was uh-- it was his birthday and he said he’d always wanted to sit up in the donut so I boosted him up. It was a good day.”

“Tony knows about the super serum.” Steve ventured and James made a vague ‘I guess’ motion. “Did he know about it before all this?”

“Don’t think so, or at least he never said nothing.” James picked off a bunch of pepperoni and tossed it away, then smiled begrudgingly when Steve immediately scarfed it up. “You still eat like you’re starvin’, Stevie. You used’ta do that all the time.”

“Yeah, and you used to pretend like you were never hungry so there was always more for me.” Steve helped himself to the rest of the pepperoni on number two of their three large sized pizzas. “Even after I got all Captain’d up. You doing that now?”

“Maybe I’d eat my fair share if you’d stop eatin’ so fast.” James scowled and slapped Steve’s hand away from another piece. “M’hungry too, you know!”

“Sorry.” Steve put both hands up peacefully, then lightning fast snatched at the last of their two dozen bread sticks. “Okay, now I’m sorry. I swear. Tell me more about Tony though, you don’t talk much about him. Is he a lot like Howard?”

“No.” James said shortly. “No, he’s nothing like Howard.”

He was quiet after that and Steve chewed through a bite slowly and took his time to swallow before asking, “Buck, should we talk about--”

“When did you start feeling like you fit in?” James cut in and Steve took it for the hint it was. Bucky did not want to talk about Tony yet and Steve didn’t really know why but he knew better than to push. “When did you start feelin’ like you weren’t just pretending to be normal?”

“About a week ago when you walked through that door.” Steve didn’t hesitate to answer as he pointed towards the apartment entryway. “The second I saw you I stopped feeling like I had to keep up some sort of appearance and I could just be me again. Not Captain Rogers, certainly not Captain America. Just Steve. Stevie. Didn’t have to check my strength to hug you, didn’t have to pretend I didn’t want to cry for finding you again, don’t have to act like everything’s okay when it’s not.”

He said the last sentence pointedly, meaningfully. “You’re my best friend, Buck. You saved my ass that first time I didn’t need it at all in elementary school and every time after. You were there the first time I tried to kiss a dame, coached me through the uh--” he coughed. “--mechanics the first time I was with a dame. Dunno how that all worked though, seeing as how you weren’t ever interested in what was up their skirts.”

“I found my way up there a time or two.” James smiled a tiny bit remembering those first awkward, fumbling times with the girls around the neighborhood. He’d been young and fuckin’ horny and even though he found himself looking at the fellas more often than not, the girls sure liked his blue eyes and swagger so that’s the direction James had leaned. A learning experience for sure, one that taught him how to please a dame and that dames weren’t the ones he wanted to be pleasing all in the same swoop.

“Well either way, I could always be myself around you.” Steve finished with a half hearted shrug. “And it’s the same now. I’ve been outta the ice for three years and this is the first time I’ve felt like I wasn’t pretending. Right here with you.”

“Three years, huh?” James’s heart sank thinking about years of never feeling normal outside of time with Steve and Tony, years of catching himself before acting, years of dealing with internal dialogue that rang like hollow commands and the instinct to first destroy and then run from anything that made him uncomfortable. “M’real sorry about that, Stevie.”

“It’s alright.” Steve put the pizza down and wiped his hands. “I never fit in back then anyway, Buck. Not when I was skinny and scrawny and orphaned after Ma passed, not when I was super charged and wearing tights. At least in this century I’m not the biggest guy in any room, there’s entire sports teams my size and bigger. No one outside of SHIELD knows I can bench press a helicopter, but I’ve been called one of those ‘corn fed midwestern boys’ at least a half dozen times and I’m not sure what exactly it means, but it sounds All American and normal so I’ve been letting it go.”

“Sure, I gotta pace myself on my morning runs so no one gets suspicious, and I’ve gotta be careful shaking peoples hands. I nod and smile through a lot of conversations cos I dunno what a tweet is or why JT brought Sexy Back or why it left or nothing. but hell Buck.” Steve grinned again, all boyish charm and nearly unbridled enthusiasm just like he’d always been. “If that’s the worst I gotta do to get by as normal? Then it’s fine by me.”

“And with you I just don’t gotta pretend even that amount, so it’s nice.” Steve tapped at his chest, right over his heart. “It’s like being able to take a full breath in after battlin’ a cold all season.”

And after a pause, “Don’t you feel like that with me?”

James shoved most of his pizza into his mouth just to avoid answering for a minute, unsure how to tell his best friend that every time he heard the words Captain America something went tense and tight inside him, a trigger like a warning, like a mission, like an objective that had blared loud the first time they spoke. The reaction had been almost impossible to ignore at first, but had finally started to ease the in the last few days and it made him sick to his stomach.

He didn’t understand why Stevie of all people would make him itch. This was his best friend, his best pal, and James shouldn’t feel anything but happy around Steve. Comfortable. Home. Not having to fight the instinct to go of the offensive every time he saw that damn shield.

It was frustrating and disheartening and even thought it waned a little more every day, James still hated it. It was just another reminder that he wasn’t Bucky anymore, that there were parts of him Steve would never know and never understand.

Tony knew those parts though.

Tony knew him.

Tony knew James.

“Buck?” Steve asked, soft and a little hurt but trying hard to hide it. “Do you feel like that with me?”

“I don’t have to pretend with you, Stevie.” James clenched his left fist just to prove it and the beer bottle shattered in his palm, spilling glass all over. “Don’t gotta be careful when we wrestle or worry about sayin’ the wrong thing or keeping up on all the technology. But--”

“--but there’s a whole bunch about you I don’t know anymore.” Steve finished resignedly. “And a lot about me you don’t know anymore. What happened after you fell changed me and what happened while I was in the ice changed you and I’ve been living one life for three years while you’ve still been putting pieces together…”

He nodded. “I get it. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“Sorry, Stevie.” James closed his eyes and wished and wished and wished that he was still Bucky. Just Bucky. Just good ol’ boy Bucky who pulled Steve out of back alley fights and hid stolen kisses from nameless faces in the dark.

Life was so much simpler back then...

...simpler and hidden and filled with so much less laughter and love.

James didn’t want to be hidden anymore. Not now that he knew what it felt like to be found.

From James: Tomorrow Stevie wants to take me to a baseball game, turns out the Yankees still play so we’re gonna get hot dogs and cracker jacks and boo the visiting team like we used to. Would be more fun if you were there.

From James: Miss ya, sweet thing.

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

86%

“Tony.” Pepper looked up in outright shock along with every other board member who had never seen Tony Stark on time for anything much less for a quarterly board meeting. “Um. Hi?”

“Don’t mind me, Ms. CEO.” Tony slid into the chair next to Pepper and patted at her knee. “I just figured I could make an appearance for once. As the on-staff mechanic for Stark Industries I am very interested in board meetings. Please continue, don’t let me interrupt.”

“Al...right.” Pepper blinked at least a thousand times, then cleared her throat and mentioned for the person at the front of the conference room to keep talking. “Sorry for the interruption, please continue.”

The meeting droned on, and Tony lasted all of two minutes and four seconds before patting at Pepper’s knee again and whispering, “Hey. You’re allergic to strawberries.”

“Yes.” she whispered back. “Yes, I am but what does that have to do with why you’ve suddenly decided for once in your life to show up for a board meeting?”

“Because every year I get you something strawberry themed for your birthday.” he leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Because all I manage to remember is there is something important to you about strawberries but this year, I remembered that you’re allergic and that’s why you always do that cute scrunch nose that means you’re pissed off but trying to be polite.”

“...you are one hundred percent correct.”

“And I am one hundred percent sorry for taking like fourteen years to figure it out.” Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, pressed it into Pepper’s palm beneath the table. “But I couldn’t resist buying you one last strawberry.”

“One last strawberry?” she muttered and Tony nodded. “So this will be the last time you buy me something I’m incredibly and ugly-allergic to? You promise?”

“I promise this will be the last time--” the very last time. “--I buy you something you’re incredibly allergic to.” Tony swore. “And by the way? You’re never ugly. Not once in your entire life have you been ugly.”

“I feel like you’re sucking up to compensate for being gone for two weeks with no word.” Pepper hissed, then raised a hand apologetically when several heads swiveled their way. “And another damn strawberry isn’t going to make up for the fact that I’ve been worried sick for-- Holy shit, is that real?!”

Whispering forgotten, Pepper clapped her hand over her mouth when she cursed out loud in the meeting over the sight of this particular strawberry. “Tony Stark what the fuck?!”

“Uh, forgive us guys.” Tony laughed and put a hand over Pepper’s mouth too. “And I’m just now realizing how embarrassing it is that I don’t know any of your names considering you’ve been my board members for the past twenty years, but you’ll have to excuse the new CEO. Apparently there are some things that do rattle the always unflappable Ms. Potts.”

“Yeah!” Pepper blurted. “Like when I’ve got my hand on a ridiculously big--” Tony snorted a laugh and Pepper jumped to her feet to drag him out of the board room while calling apologies over her shoulder.

“Tell me, Ms. Potts.” Tony asked once they were in his her office. “What ridiculously big thing do you have your hand on?”

“Tony, what is this?” Pepper opened the box again and held up the beautiful huge ring. “Is this a pink diamond? Why--”

“This is the Strawberry Pink Diamond.” Tony took the ring and slipped it onto Pepper’s middle finger. “It’s out of Brazil. Do you like it?”

“The last strawberry thing you’re going to buy me is a strawberry diamond?” Pepper’s voice was still doing that high pitched squeaky thing. “Tony, what is this for?”

“It’s because I love you.” he said simply, and tossed the box onto her desk. “And because the ring was ridiculously over priced which meant I had to have it and I couldn’t think of anyone else who would look half this pretty wearing it.”

“It’s so big.” For all her practicality, Pepper couldn’t help gaping at the arrangement, at the beautifully pink center diamond and the contrasting blue gems around it. “Tony, seriously what the hell, it’s so big. It’s like an iceberg! I can’t even see where the Titanic hit it! What is this, four carats?”

“Almost exactly.” Tony smiled to himself watching Pepper smile so big. “Do you like it?”

“Well I can promise to never complain about strawberries again if this is what you mean!” Pepper flushed in pleasure, holding her hand up to the light to watch the sun sparkle off the stones. “And I’ll also never complain about you disappearing if you always bring me back sparkly things.”

“The next time I disappear, I’ll bring you back sparkly things.” Tony promised, swallowing around the grief clawing up his throat. “Now how about you step off those sky scrapers you call shoes and give me a kiss so I can go home and shower. The trip back from Brazil was a sweaty one.”

“You’re disgusting.” Pepper laughed softly and bent down to kiss Tony very gently on the lips. “And I take off my heels for no one, Mr. Mechanic. Not now that I’m the CEO.”

“That’s my girl.” Tony laughed right back, then picked up her hand and kissed her palm. “The ring looks better on you than it ever did on display in that jewelry store. Keep it. Wear it all the time.”

“Thank you.” Pepper pulled Tony in for a tight hug. “I’ve been worried about you, are you okay? After you got James together with Captain Rogers you just fell off the map. I’ve been worried.”

“Well I’m just fine now that I’m squished in your boobs.” Tony mumbled and Pepper jabbed at his side with a quick, “Oh shut up, you don’t even like boobs.”

“Pepper, everyone likes your boobs.” He countered and she huffed and pushed him away. “How late are you in meetings tonight?”

“At least another couple hours.” Pepper smoothed the wrinkles from her suit. “And don’t think I don’t see you dodging the question about James. Dinner tonight and we can talk about it?”

“I owe Rhodey a grossly big steak, but we can have breakfast tomorrow?”

“Of course. I’ll make you something delicious.”

“You’ll have donuts with me and not complain when the cream filling splooges on your blouse.” He countered and Pepper sighed. “Love you.”

“I love you too.” Pepper paused at the board room door and blew him a kiss. “I’m glad you’re home again, Tony.”

“Me too, Pep. Me too.”

86%

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

James woke screaming--

--James woke trying to scream, shredding the blankets between his fists and arching up off the bed and then something pinned him down and he tried to scream louder--

“Bucky!” Steve was shouting at him, grabbing at his arms and laying all his not inconsiderable weight across the other soldier. “Bucky! Wake up! It’s a nightmare, bud! It’s a nightmare, just wake up!”

It was cold and James was scared. It was cold and he was falling. It was cold and it hurt so bad when they took his arm, when they cut torn tendons and sawed away splintered bone and it was cold when they shoved him into a container and it was cold cold cold as the ice climbed the window and silenced his scream and--

“Bucky.”

James jerked awake, surged forward and grabbed for Tony, “Tony?!”

“Hey hey hey, it’s me. It’s Stevie. It’s me.”

It was blue eyes not dark brown. Blonde hair not soft curls. Mouth set in a grim line instead of lips parted laughing.

It was Steve, not Tony.

“Stevie.” James fell forward and collapsed into Steve’s arms, let his friend take his weight and soothe his shaking. “Jesus Christ.”

“What is it?” Steve ran his hands through James’s hair, across the broad shoulders, skittering away from the hard edge of metal to press at James’s back instead. “What was that? Was it like--” he swallowed. “--was it like after Azzano when you had nightmares? About what they did to you at the camp?”

“No.”

“Winter Soldier stuff then.” Steve nearly whispered, and James nodded almost imperceptibly into his shoulder. “The-- the chair they kept you in? The cryo chamber?”

“Fuckin’ cold, Stevie.”

“Yeah.” Steve felt around for a blanket and drew it up around James’s shoulders. “Yeah, I know how that feels.”

They hadn’t really talked about it, about James’s time with Hydra. Steve had confirmed only enough to explain the flashes James got, the tactical knowledge and the way he could measure potential injuries with just a glance. Steve had mentioned the chair, which explained the panic attack in Tony’s lab. He talked about the memory wipes and the cryo freeze and the way they’d used James for decades which is why his memory and concept of time was all over the place.

Steve hadn’t talked about the missions. He swore on the Bible, on puttin’ flowers on their Ma’s graves, on the time they’d gone on the Cyclone and Stevie had barfed for hours-- he swore he hadn’t read the files, promised Natasha had burned them all the ash, told James over and over that it wasn’t about what he’d done as their prisoner, as their captor. It wasn’t even about what had been done to James, it was about him being safe and about him being home.��

So no, they hadn’t really talked about it, nothing more than a few confirmations of James’s fears and then the topic had been dropped.

Why dwell on the past when they both somehow had a new future? Why stress about all the things they couldn’t control when they finally had the chance to move on?

No, they hadn’t really talked about it, nothing more than just enough to bring James’s nightmares back and Steve felt guilty about it every time.

“I shouldn’t have told you.” he started and James shook his head, “I needed the answers, Stevie. Needed them. It’s okay.”

“You want some hot chocolate?”

“Want some cheeseburgers.” James grunted. “Want a damn cheeseburger.”

“Okay where from--”

“I got a guy.”

From James: Happy, I need a burger.

From Happy: I’m already a glass of wine deep into my evening and watching my Downton Abby, what in the hell am I supposed to do about that?

From James: I need a CHEESEburger.

From Happy: I’ll call a guy who knows somebody. Give me an hour.

An hour later there was a polite knock at Steve’s apartment door, and the fanciest dressed delivery guy either of them had ever seen smiled, handed over a greasy bag of cheeseburgers from James’s favorite franchise, then turned on an expensive heel and stalked away.

“Uh Buck?” Steve held up the bag in confusion. “Why did we get cheeseburgers delivered by some guy in a penguin suit?”

“Happy knows a guy who knows somebody.” James was freshly showered and feeling better, but he felt better better when he could flop down on the couch and tear into the food. “Have one Stevie, they’re so good.”

“...what’s with the cheeseburgers?” Steve sat down slowly and reached for one of the paper wrapped sandwiches. “Why does it seem like a big thing?”

“It’s Tony’s thing.” James explained, wiping ketchup from his mouth. “Or Happy’s thing for Tony, I dunno. Something about how any time Tony’s having a hard time, he wants cheeseburgers and it’s Happy’s job to get them. Pep has a bad day, Happy grabs some cheeseburgers. Rhodey--”

“Rhodey. You mean Colonel James Rhodes?”

“--Rhodey.” James nodded. “Rhodey even gets them, and the first time me and Happy hung out, he got ‘em for me too. They make me feel better.”

“Alright.” Steve took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Buck, you don’t ever talk about Tony. I mean, you talk about him but you never come right out and say anything real. Why not?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Cos I watched you hide for years.” Steve said bluntly, and James flushed. “I watched you sneak out way late at night to meet someone and then see the same person in the daylight and act like you’d never seen them before. I watched you dance with the dames just so you didn’t have to stand alone at the wall. I watched you hide and now we’re both here in a time where you don’t have to hide…”

Steve let the sentence dangle, but James didn’t answer. “M’just sayin’ Buck. The man that showed up here cared an awful lot about you, and I can see it your eyes you care about him. I sorta thought you’d have a damn wedding ring on your finger when you came in, or figured I’d get a hug then you two would run off into the sunset. So why don’t you talk about him?”

A beat of silence, and Steve added awkwardly, “Is it-- I mean, you ain’t ashamed, are you? You don’t have to be ashamed, Buck. I know the neighborhood fellas were real assholes back in the day but it’s okay now, you know? People are okay with all of that now, with fellas liking fellas and-- girls-- you know.”

He spread his hands vaguely. “Or anyway, most people are, and we can just punch the ones who aren’t.”

“M’not ashamed, Stevie.” James denied. “Just uh-- “ he chuckled softly. “You know how I used to punch you if you’d come and try to talk to me about Peggy? Figure you’d do the same thing if I told you about how me and Tony get in bed.”

“I definitely don’t want to hear how you and Howard’s kid are in bed.” Steve immediately objected, and then softer, “But I loved Pegs and I feel like what you and Tony have got is more along those lines too, yeah? So why haven’t you talked to me about him?”

“Stevie.” James bit at his tongue until it bled-- and then healed-- as he tried not to think of the dozens of messages he’d sent in the last weeks, the phone calls that hadn’t been answered, the way Pepper had texted to let him know Tony was in Malibu but was buried in some project in the lab and barely talking to anyone, not to take it personally.

But James was taking it personally because he physically ached to get Tony back in his arms. Because every morning he woke up in Steve’s spare bedroom instead of Tony’s bed felt awful. Because he felt like he was hiding away again instead of being free in the pure sunshine that was Tony’s smile.

He was miserable and maybe even a little heart broken and missed Tony until he hurt from it.

Steve was his best friend but Tony had found him.

“He found me, Stevie.” James whispered and the Captain stilled next to him. “Tony he-- he found me. I was nothing and I was nobody and Tony saw me from across the room and found me. I didn’t even know my last name or how long I’d been homeless or what the hell I was doing in D.C. and Tony didn’t care. He found me and he saw me. He saw me.”

“He gave me a home.” James opened and closed his left hand, silver fingers gleaming. “Put me back together. My body, my heart-- hell Stevie, I think he gave me my mind back.”

“So why haven’t you talked about him?” Steve pressed. “Buck if he found you and gave you a home why aren’t you two goin’ after a happily ever after together? Been long enough in the making, don’t you want it?”

“Course I want it, but Tony hasn’t talked to me since he brought me here.” James tightened his fingers into a fist. “He’s not answering my calls, he’s not getting my texts and I don’t know what’s going on. Sure seems like what I want and what he wants are different things.”

“No way.” Steve denied. “No way. He probably just figured we’d need the time to catch up. Seventy years apart makes for a lot of conversation, Buck. Maybe Tony thinks he’s doing you a favor or is bein’ subtle so it’s not awkward if you decide you want to stay here or whatever.”

“There’s nothing subtle about Tony.” James disagreed. “Nothing subtle or tactful or-- or anything like that, not when he’s being funny, not when he’s being nice. Hell Stevie, the first time we were together he sat me down and just told me he wanted to take me to bed, or wanted me to take him to bed, whichever I preferred. He told off some high and mighty politician who looked at me wrong and I-- I know he’s sick.”

“I know he’s sick.” James finished on a sigh. “That’s why I’m so worried. He’s probably at the doctors at the hospital and ditched me here with you so I wouldn’t have to see him go through it. He lied to me about it all the time and I can’t even be made about it cos he was doing it so I wouldn’t worry. Me and Ms. Potts and Rhodey and Happy.”

“So he’s not being subtle about letting you stay here, he’s being pretty damn obvious that you should stay here.” Steve clarified. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s it.” James’s pale eyed dimmed in distress. “Half of me thinks I should show up and force him to talk to me. The other half knows I should let him work through it how he wants. I’m just worried. I had enough of watchin’ you almost die every winter Stevie, I don’t want to do it with Tony too.”

"...exactly how sick is Tony?” Steve asked slowly. “Cos I over heard Fury and Natasha talking about him the other day and they sounded worried too.”

“I don’t like Fury, Steve. He’s got too many secrets.”

“Yeah, even his trench coat’s got secrets, I know.” Steve pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “And I dunno why he was talking about Tony, but let’s just call and ask. No worries. We’ll figure it out.”

No worries, Steve said like there wasn’t anything strange about a man like Fury talking with a woman like Natasha about Tony.

No worries, Steve said like James could ignore the uncomfortable that had crawled down his spine the first time Fury had shown up and looked him over with his one good eye and made an unimpressed noise in his throat while patting at his gun with his free hand.

No worries, Steve said like James had been able to sleep at all the last several weeks knowing Tony was out there who knows where and alone and ignoring calls and messages--

“Captain Rogers. I thought you’d be too busy with your boyfriend to report in for duty.”

“I’m not reporting in for duty.” Steve said blandly, and then almost belatedly, “Oh and Buck isn’t my boyfriend. Sheesh. No we wanna know why you and Nat were talking about Tony the other day. Bucky hasn’t heard from him in a few weeks.”

“No one has heard from Stark in a few weeks.” Fury answered shortly. “The guy’s been finalizing his will and naming beneficiaries and spending the last couple weeks sight seeing everything the world has to offer. You can’t expect a dying man to keep up on text messages.”

Silence in the apartment, and Steve turned wide, horrified eyes to James.

“...what did he say.” James whispered in disbelief. “What did he say about Tony dying?”

“Director can you repeat--”

“Romanov gave him a shot in the neck the day he barged into your life, but it wasn’t meant to last long term. You telling me the world’s best soldier and your best friend Mega Scary Assassin didn’t notice the black lines all over his chest and crawling up his neck?”

“Tony is dying?”

“Palladium poisoning thanks to that battery in his chest.” Fury had the good grace to at least sound somewhat apologetic about dropping the news so unexpectedly. “Rogers, Barnes, I really thought you two knew. Figured you were giving him space to die in peace.”

Silence silence silence and then the sound of something breaking and Fury waited a beat before asking, “You still there?”

“I need transportation to Malibu for Buck!” Steve sounded like he was running now, breathing hard as he pounded down the stairs and out of his apartment building. “I need it now! Something fast!”

“Pick up location?” Fury asked over the noise of horns honking and someone screaming in alarm. “Rogers? Where are you and Barnes?”

“Bucky took off running down the goddamn freeway.” Steve shouted. “He’s going too fast for me to keep up--”

“--Shit, I didn’t think anyone could outrun your spangled ass--”

“--I need a craft for pick up as soon as possible! Give me an ETA!”

“I can have something airborne from HQ in two minutes. What’s his current position?”

“Running along the top of the bus past the bridge at fourth?”

“Oh motherfuck--”

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

“Sir?”

Tony’s hands were shaking as he picked up the blood monitor, and he hissed in pain when his nearly fried nerves lit up in agony over the tiny prick.

“Sir, if I could interrupt?”

“Jesus Christ.” Tony’s legs gave out and he slumped back into a nearby chair, one hand over his heart, the other clutched tight around the monitor. “J-- what-- what--”

He was panting, sweating, hardly able to take a breath without his chest seizing, the black lines at the reactor and his neck trailing down his arms and almost to his fingers now. His vision went blurry if he stared for more than a few minutes, he was constantly thirsty and damn near dehydrated and the little bit of food he’d managed the last few nights had ended with him stumbling back to the bathroom and vomiting until stars burst behind his temples.

He was so scared.

“J--”

“Sir, Sergeant Barnes is on his way up the drive.”

“...what?”

“A distinctly non civilian air craft dropped him off in the street and he is up the steps and nearly at the door. Should I allow him in?”

“Please…” Tony’s head lolled back as he tried to breathe. “J, please--”

“Tony?” A shout from upstairs and pounding footsteps as the soldier ran down the stairs to the lab. “Tony? Sweet thing?”

“Thank god.” Tony managed only a glimpse of pale blue eyes and silver fingers before his vision went black. “James--”

“Tony!”

...The blood monitor slipped out of Tony’s hand and fell to floor flashing a steady ninety-one percent.

...91% and when James reached for Tony, the beautiful brunette was too cold, too still, barely breathing.

...“Tony?”

91%

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

Chapter Notes:

Tony sits still for 2 mins and 4 seconds because the IM2 run time is 2 hours, 4 mins.

I didn’t want to skip the strawberry part of the movie, but I like my version better. THIS is Pepper’s ring and honestly, I totally want one.

I grew up watching WWF/WWE and I will probably watch it till the day I die.

We made a purposeful decision to avoid any CACW related angst in this fic. The idea that who James/Bucky IS will always be more important than who he was, what was done to him/what they made him do and I think everyone deserves to be seen as a person first and foremost instead of their list of past mistakes and/or trauma.

That being said, 91% is a reference to 1991, the year the MCU WS ruined Tony’s life but in this verse, the number where James comes to his rescue.

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER!

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

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @bibbarnes @heeeyitskay @goindownshipping @justaniche @actual-demon-belial

@quietgayguy @bluedreamdino @akimi-youngblood @blackstar1602 @dixiehellcat @travellover1245 @capnstarkey @the-awkward-teenaged-one @thanossucks @peteryoulittleshit @tony-and-steeeb @striving-artist @roe-sesandthorns @coolsidedpillow @i-am-worth-it-25 @firelightmystic @maligatorthealigator @simsccsol @a-tardis-in-221b @happyendingrequired @everygoodoneistaken11 @pootie-and-the-snoots @megahuffledor @xkissmeimirishx @crystalskrull @hazelbeatsturtle @wecollectnightmares @endrega23 @saganarojanaolt @the-crazy-house @ravynfyre @yomama-umbridge @lovely--tony @gayspacesprinkles @elliotkaingrey @warmachinesocks @glitternotgold73

#ncts fics #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #steve rogers

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argylemnwrites · 4 years

Text

I Fold

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (Book 1, chapter 12)

Word Count: ~2400

Rating: PG-13 (language, mild sensuality)

Summary: Spending time with her always feels like a gamble

Author’s Note: Written for the @choicesmonthlychallenge for August 21 - temptation. With TRH3 coming out today, I found myself feeling a little bummed that I had no desire to play this series I once loved, so I decided to throw this together to revisit a time when I adored this series and these characters.

Drake stepped into the lounge almost tentatively, scanning the room quickly from the doorway and letting out a sigh when he confirmed he was alone. He didn’t want to think about the fact that there was a lot of disappointment mixed in with his relief at that realization.

He walked over to the bar, rooting through the bottles of liquor until he found the Bushmills he was looking for. He had no reason to suspect that she would be joining him tonight. She wouldn’t even know about this lounge at Applewood. But then again, she’d stumbled upon him in that lounge back at the palace without any warning, and she hadn’t exactly known where to find him then, at least at first. It had been pure coincidence.

The truth he didn’t want to admit was that he’d rather enjoyed the handful of nights they’d spent drinking whiskey and playing poker. Before they’d made the trip to Applewood, it had kind of settled into a late night tradition, with her waiting for him in the lounge after the first couple of times. But now, things were apparently back to normal, which Drake knew in his soul was for the best. Since his birthday yesterday, he was having thoughts he definitely shouldn’t be. Or rather, more thoughts he shouldn’t be. But part of him still just wanted to spend a little more time with her.

He took his glass of whiskey and headed for the couches, pulling out his phone and trying to not feel let down that it looked like she wasn’t joining him. After all, he’d never had problems drinking alone before she dropped into his life. So, he pulled up scores from the football matches today and was ready to watch some highlights when he heard the door creak open.

His eyes flew to the door in an instant. There she was, her dark hair swinging as she glanced around the room, a smile appearing when she met his gaze.

“There you are. I’ve been hunting for where you might be hiding,” she said, stepping fully into the lounge, closing the door behind her. She’d changed into a pair of tight jeans and a loose, purplish sort of top. She looked good, so much more comfortable than he’d seen her all day. “After not only being forced to bake today, but forced to bake with Olivia, I definitely need a drink.”

Drake moved to stand up and pour her some whiskey, but she shook her head. “I got it. Why don’t you find some cards?” And just like that, she was striding over to the bar like she owned the place. His eyes drifted down, watching the way her hips and ass rolled in those jeans before he snapped out of it, jerking his head to the side and standing up, running his hands through his hair as he made his way to the small cupboard off to the side. He needed to stop. He couldn’t let himself get carried away here.

“What’s on the drink menu tonight?” he heard her call out as he dug around, trying to find a deck of cards and some poker chips.

“Bushmills, but if you want something else, Liu-”

“Nah, that’s fine with me.” He heard the splash of liquid into a glass as he continued his search. He eventually found an old deck of cards, but there did not appear to be any chips.

“How’s the hunt going?” she asked, her voice much closer. She must be at the coffee table.

“I don’t think there are any poker chips here, Liu.” He reached his arm in as deep as he could, feeling around the back of the cupboard, but he was still coming up empty.

“Hmmm. Do you have any cash on you? We could use that.”

He pivoted to face her, finding her sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, her arms wrapped around her knees. “Are you literally trying to take my money? Because of all your potential marks at the manor, I’m probably the dumbest choice.”

She threw her head back and laughed at that, deep and rich, her black hair hanging like a surreal curtain behind her. “Maybe I just figured I could start small, gradually work my way through the court!” He chuckled lightly at that before she continued, “But seriously, I don’t know. I was just trying to come up with something we could use. So unless you have other ideas…” She trailed off with a little shrug, her dark eyes wide as they locked on his. The silence that followed was tense and expectant.

Drake swallowed roughly. He could think of one option besides poker chips as he let his eyes drift across her body, picturing each piece of clothing she was wearing piled on the table in front of her. Those damn jeans that fit her like a second skin. That shirt that was loose and slipping off her shoulder just a bit. The bra he knew was blue based on the strap he could see on that shoulder. Her panties, probably not a matching blue, but still undoubtedly perfect, regardless of color.

He tried to reign in his overactive imagination, dragging his eyes back to her face, shocked to see a coy little smirk on her face. It almost felt like she was flirting, like she wanted him to suggest strip poker or something, but he knew he had to be just imagining things, so he shook his head to get that way too appealing fantasy out of his mind, twisting back to the cupboard and looking at their actual options.

“How about Scrabble tiles?”

There was a slight pause before she answered, “That could work.”

So he tugged the old box of Scrabble from the shelf and joined her on the floor, resting his back against the couch behind him as he set the game on the coffee table and handed her the deck of cards, ignoring how her fingers brushed against his as he did so. As she shuffled the deck, he sorted out the tiles, dividing them into vowels and consonants, then sliding half of each pile over to her.

“Alright, vowels are one, consonants are five, ante is one? That work for you, Liu?”

She nodded. “Five card draw?” They’d mixed it up a couple of times, but they seemed to both prefer the standard.

“Sounds good.”

And so she dealt the cards. He watched her hands as she briskly alternated placing cards in front of each of them. He noticed a bit of glitter in her pink nail polish. He wasn’t sure if she knew that wasn’t exactly appropriate for court, or if she did and it was a tiny bit of rebellion. He liked to think it was the latter.

“So, how long do Apple Court cup-bearer duties last?” Riley asked as she picked up her cards, scanning them over without changing her expression. “Should you have tasted my whiskey before I had any?”

Drake lifted his eyes from the five cards he was holding to look at her. Her eyes were bright and playful, an eyebrow cocked and the corner of her lips quirked up.

“Ha. Ha,” he deadpanned, looking back at his cards, trying to decide whether he should play it safe and keep his pair of tens, or trade in one of them and to go for a flush as he tossed in an “I” as his initial bet. “Nice to see the power of being fake queen is already going to your head. Good practice for when you’re actually queen.”

She let out a little hum at that, but didn’t say anything else when she matched him with an “O.” It surprised Drake, as normally she gave as good as she got. But for whatever reason, his little teasing comment didn’t draw a response from her. He wondered if he’d struck a nerve. That hadn’t been his goal, but maybe she was worried he really saw her as just as stuck up and irritating as the rest of them. He didn’t know how that could be, because who else at court would sit on the floor and drink whiskey straight up with him? But this place tended to have a way of screwing with minds. He knew that better than anyone probably.

“Liu, I was just teasing. I know you aren’t-”

“It’s not that,” she interrupted, shaking her head lightly as she took the three cards he offered her and passed him three new ones from the deck. “It’s just… Do you really think I’ll be queen?”

He felt a gnawing in the pit of his stomach. Of course she was just worried that Liam wasn’t as interested as she was. She didn’t care how he saw her at all. He glanced at his new cards, disappointed to find nothing useful. The pair of tens was going to have to be good enough. He tossed an “E” tile into the pot before he answered, “Liu, I’m not gonna act like a teenager and gossip about my best friend’s feelings. You are smart enough to see that-”

“That’s not what I meant. I… sometimes… I don’t know. I just don’t feel like I’m cut out to be queen, you know?”

His eyes jumped to her face, but she was staring at her hand, aggressively avoiding eye contact with him as she tossed in a “K” tile, raising his bet.

“Liu, where is this coming from?” He kept staring at her, trying to determine what she wanted here. Did she want a confidence boost and pep talk? Or did she want his honest assessment? Because while he was sure she could be an amazing queen, a breath of fresh air, bringing common sense and real world experiences to the role, he also was scared of what being queen might do to her. To be queen was to play peacemaker, to embody decorum and diplomacy at all times. And she was too fierce, too intense, too free to ever be truly happy locked away in that gilded cage.

She gave a little shrug after a moment, finally looking up to meet his eyes. “I just don’t have anything in common with any of the other suitors. I’m nothing like them at all, and it just makes me wonder if I’m right for this. They’ve trained all their lives for this shit, and if I am so different from them, then I don’t see how I am remotely the right choice.”

“Your differences from them are why you are the right choice, Liu. You aren’t sheltered or out of touch or completely stuck up your own ass.”

“I just don’t know. It feels so weird and the closer the Coronation gets, I just…” she trailed off, biting her lip and staring at him with those damn eyes. She looked lost and unsure, and he wasn’t used to that.

“Did Olivia or Madeleine say something today?” It was the only thing he could think that would have made her suddenly unsettled.

Riley shook her head aggressively. “God no! And I know better than to let anything those bitches say get to me. I’ve just been thinking about it more lately, and I just can’t picture myself sitting there with a crown on my head and a smile plastered on my face.”

Drake shrugged. She wasn’t exactly wrong, and he wasn’t going to lie to her. She would have to put on a happy face publicly a lot when she married Liam.

When he didn’t say anything, she kept going. “Sometimes it all just feels so surreal, like I’m an actress in some cheap romance movie. I don’t know… I guess the only times I feel like I’m still a real human are…”

Her eyes dropped to the surface of the coffee table as she trailed off again. He followed her gaze, surprised to see her hand mere millimeters from his, his little finger nearly touching her thumb. It happened almost in slow motion, as he watched her thumb scoot over, brushing over the back of his hand deliberately.

Drake looked up and was shocked to find her staring at him, her gaze so intense it almost felt like it could cut through him. He didn’t know what she was looking for, what she was searching for in him, but he couldn’t bring himself to break the moment, to look away. So he stared right back. The urge to slide their hands together, the temptation to lean over and kiss her was so strong, he almost felt himself leaning towards her.

But he knew he couldn’t. It would be a massive mistake. She was just getting worn down by the stresses of the social season, and she was looking for comfort where she could find it. He knew it had to be true. Hell, the only reason she kept coming back for these midnight poker games was probably because she just needed a moment away from all the pressure and he kind of just represented the antithesis of that whole world. It had nothing to actually do with him beyond his outsider status.

She was here for Liam. He should be the one to kiss away her worries and fears, to hold her close, to reassure her. Drake was just supposed to keep an eye on her, not steal those intimate moments. So he closed his eyes, trying to break the spell it felt like she had him under with her stare as he cleared his throat, sliding his hand back. “I fold.”

He opened his eyes to find her still staring at him, an almost skeptical look in her eyes. He felt his cheeks getting slightly warm with her continued attention, so he shoved the handful of Scrabble tiles over to her, trying to move this evening back in a safer direction. “Here, just take your damn winnings so I can deal the next hand.”

She didn’t say anything as she tossed her hand onto the discard pile and handed him the deck. Out of curiosity, he flipped over those five cards. The five of clubs, the three and nine of diamonds, and the six and Jack of spades. She had nothing, had been bluffing the entire time.

“What can I say? Sometimes you just need to raise the stakes.” He glanced up at her statement and saw her watching him. “What did you have?”

“It doesn’t matter, Liu.” And with that, he shuffled his hand into the deck, dealing the cards out without saying another word. From where he was sitting, the stakes were already high enough.

Permatag: @choicesficwriterscreations @walkerswhiskeygirl @riley--walker @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5 @mfackenthal @thequeenofcronuts

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @iaminlovewithtrr @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC: @no-one-u-know @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs @drakesensworld @drake-colt-lover-99

#drake walker #drake x mc #trr fanfic #trr #choices fanfiction #the royal romance

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eury--dice · 3 years

Text

history, huh?

chapter 3: propius

(check the rb for chapters 1 + 2 on tumblr + ao3 links!)

Adam was woken at 5 o’clock on the dot with a series of sharp knocks on his door. “Up and Adam,” Gansey’s voice called, making the one stupid dad joke that always set Adam’s blood to a boil. He was too tired to react, however.

“Kindly leave until a later time,” he called, his voice heavy with sleep. “I don’t have class for another three hours.”

Gansey opened the door anyway, striding in with more pep than anyone should have in the morning.

“You’ve made the tabloids, my friend. Your weekend with Ronan finally hit.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

“Nope,” Gansey said cheerfully. “‘From America, With Love: Ronan and Adam flaunt friendship.’” He turned on his heel once he’d crossed the length of the room, which Adam could never forget was formerly Malia Obama’s, and seated himself in Adam’s desk chair.

Adam had never been closer to considering strangulation. He elected to shove his hearing ear into his pillow instead.

Unfortunately, the muffled sounds of Gansey speaking still made their way in. “‘Photos: Adam’s Weekend in England,’ oh, that’s boring…ah-hah: ‘New Bromance Alert? Pics of FSOTUS and Prince Ronan.’”

Adam resigned himself to his fate and mentally promised himself a giant cup of coffee. “As long as I’m getting fewer death threats on Twitter, I’m happy,” he mumbled into his blankets.

Gansey ignored him. “Why are you so tired? It’s the hour of kings, time to be awake and alive.”

“I’d settle for dead if it meant I could sleep at this point, to be frank.”

“Please don’t be frank. Be Adam.”

Adam sat up, eyeing Gansey in his wire-framed glasses with disdain. “Any more puns and I suffocate myself with this pillow.”

“Please don’t,” Gansey said, but his eyes had already returned to his screen. While he read through the articles, he continued his line of questioning. “Working on the campaign late last night?”

“Not really,” Adam admitted. “I had a Press and the Presidency paper to write.”

“Just write ‘I’m Adam Parrish’ on a piece of loose-leaf paper to turn it in and you’ll probably get an A. You live it every day, for Christ’s sake.”

“And yet I still need to cite sources in Chicago Advanced.”

“You’d think nepotism would work out more in your favor.” He flicked to a fresh article, a gesture Adam only recognized from all the other times Gansey had done it. “Luckily, I think the press is eating this one up.”

Adam grimaced. “Fantastic.”

“Not-campaign-ruining, you mean.”

“That too, I suppose.” He wanted nothing more than to flop back against his pillows and get the sleep his body so desperately craved after being jet lagged for a week, but he fought the urge.

“That _ People _exclusive takes the cake, I think. I didn’t realize how much you cherished your relationship with Ronan.”

“Fuck off, please. Or end my misery.”

“No to both. Why are you even taking that press course?”

Adam slid out from under his blankets, rolling his shoulders to try and wake up more. “Curiosity, I guess. It never hurts to learn more of what not to do.”

Gansey looked up from his phone to level a glance at Adam. “And what have you learned so far?”

“…Don’t have a sex scandal?”

“You _ would _need someone to tell you that.”

_ “Hey,” _Adam said, affecting outrage.

Gansey lifted his thumb to run over his lower lip, tilting his head consideringly. “One of us three will probably have a scandal before your mother’s second term is up.”

“If there is a second.”

“Chin up, young padawan. With you working on it we’re guaranteed.”

“I don’t know, Gansey,” Adam replied. “I don’t think I’m the good luck charm you believe in.”

“Of course you are,” Gansey said. “We won the first time, no?”

Adam glanced exaggeratedly around the room and to the phone in Gansey’s hand. “I’d say so. That or we’re about to get questioned very thoroughly about the the events of last three years.”

“Don’t make me cut you off on the true-crime videos.”

His eyes narrowed, focusing on Gansey. “Don’t you dare.”

“Blue agrees, anyway,” Gansey said, successfully deflecting topics. “Said there’s a ninety-four percent chance you’ll get into a sex scandal before the general.”

“Both of you date more than I do, why am I the one who’s supposedly having a sex scandal?” Once his initial outrage passed, disbelief crept in at the time of day. “Did you just text Blue at five AM and get a response? How the hell did you manage that?”

“She’s been up,” Gansey dismissed. Adam stared at him for a moment, and then Gansey seemed to feel the weight of his stare. His eyes widened almost comically. “Oh, Christ, no, not that. Nate Silver asked for another set of eyes on the Superbowl predictions, and she’s trying to get a shoo-in with them before the primaries begin. I just brought her some coffee.”

“And you didn’t bring me any?”

“You’re the only one of us who hasn’t been up all night. You need coffee the least of all of us.”

“Don’t blame me for your bad decisions.” Adam squinted at Gansey. “Were you working on an article all night or something?”

He snorted. “Hardly. They’ve been blocking all of my pieces. Too far from my mother’s politics, too far from your mother’s, too controversial, too critical, all in that order.”

“Thought you were liking the _ Post _gig?”

“On paper,” Gansey dismissed. “I’ve defaulted to writing about Welsh history.”

“Sounds like it’s right up your alley, then.”

“Once again, on paper.”

“How do you even connect the Welsh to the hellscape of American politics?”

Gansey waved a hand. “‘Eternal spirit,’ ‘fighting for honor,’ ‘remembering Glendower and others who set a pristine model,’ et cetera, et cetera.”

“People read that? That just sounds like you in high school spouting off again.”

“Yes, Adam. People read it.” Gansey squinted at his phone again. “Twitter _ really _likes you and Ronan together.”

“We’re exciting,” Adam said dryly, reaching for his laptop. He scanned over his most recent paper while Gansey dramatically narrated replies to the gif of them on _ This Morning. _

“‘Either of them could stab me and give me one of those smiles and I’d thank them,’ Jesus Christ,” Gansey read, “They really love your fake smiles… ‘name a more iconic duo, I’ll wait,’ hm, maybe any other duo? ‘Oh my God, just _ kiss already.’” _

Adam choked out a laugh as Gansey punctuated the last one with a dramatic and uncharacteristic hand wave. “At least it’s working,” he allowed, shutting his laptop once he felt secure about his essay. “Now get out. _ Some _of us have places to be.”

Adam’s phone buzzed on his way out of his cursed Presidency and the Press course.

Somehow, the interest of those around him seemed to pique even higher when he looked at his phone instead of in front of him. It wasn’t a new sensation by any means; ever since starting at Georgetown, he’d felt eyes on him constantly, but the intensity increased tenfold each time his classmates thought he was too occupied to see them staring. He noticed every time, but of course nothing could be done about it.

The name _ HRH shitty bird boy _ popped across his screen. How strange - in only a week, he’d almost entirely forgotten that the name he had (quite maturely) given Ronan in his phone was… _ that. _As he swiped the notification open, he felt a certain amount of trepidation as to what a technology-averse prince would ever text him about.

His harassment and emergency fears flew out the window with the body of the text, simply a screenshot of their tabloid appearance with the added caption of _ youre the nerd and I’m the cool jock. _

_ Competitive yachting? _Adam asked in response, nearly tripping over his own feet while typing.

_ ffs i told them to stop writing that as my preferred sport. _

Adam felt his lips twist against his will.

_ I’m sorry, this is a common problem? _

_ you can’t even imagine. _

_ I appreciate that they consider competitive yachting a regal sport. _

_ status symbols and faux athleticism are the core of the monarchy. _

Adam blinked down at his phone, stopping short abruptly. Persephone, from behind him, adjusted accordingly.

He…hadn’t been expecting this. Any of it. The text, the almost-joking response, the casual statement about the monarchy being ridiculous despite him being in it. Their conversation ended there, and it was probably for the better. He resumed his pace, trying to get to his next class. He almost forgot about the texts, too; save for a rogue screenshot Adam sent him of speculation on Ronan’s presence in Majorca, nothing else went between them.

Sometimes, Adam could _ just barely _ get away with being on his phone during briefings with Maura. He hated to be distracted during them - they were _ important, _he knew that, but all the same occasionally she spent a particularly long time covering an obscure dignitary’s comments and he’d gotten too few hours of sleep to truly focus and someone or other was blowing up his phone.

Maura’s topic of conversation this week appeared to be a series of Buzzfeed articles run on the lack of pets in the First Family, complete with a power point dissecting their points

The glamorous side of politics, truly. Discussing a clickbait series in the West Wing briefing room.

_ iMessage chat to _ ** HRH shitty bird boy **

_ Resumed 30 October, 2019, 1:47 pm _

_ if you want a pet chainsaw dragged in a mouse the other day _

_ Ah yes, the mouse. A pet eternally beloved by constituents. _

_ we can’t all have a raven, that would be unfair _

_ Your heights of cool and goth are truly dizzying. _

_ im glad you agree _

_ Modest, too. _

_ it comes with the wealth and fame _

_ As long as you’re being straight with me, feel free to be as ‘modest’ as you like. _

_ i’m the prince of bloody england. i’m straight all the damn time _

_ That’s the biggest lhxemxlp_

His phone slipped from between his fingers, landing with a dull _ thud _onto the wooden floor. Adam stared helplessly at it, a sleek black rectangle hiding between types of oak. But Maura repeated his name, and he suddenly remembered what had made him drop his phone in the first place. He dragged his eyes up, staring at a spot on the sterile white wall just beyond Maura’s head.

“Adam,” she said a third time, but he refused to look her in the eyes. She conceded immediately. “What the hell?”

He felt his cheeks darken as blood found its way up. “I’m sorry.”

Her lips thinned just like Blue’s did, turning into a dark line on her brown face. “Do you even remember what I was saying?”

“Er…” he scrambled. “Don’t mention animals in any public setting?”

She looked at him for a long moment, then picked up a mug of coffee and took a controlled sip.

“Get out?” she said once she’d swallowed her sip.

“I-”

She pointed to the door. “I am impossibly busy. Take your phone and go laugh in private.”

He nodded once, finally, ducking under the table with his spine pressed against the bottom to grab his phone. His fingers closed around it, grip the edge of the wood, and he was up in a second.

He couldn’t regret it.

Because - well, here was the weird thing.

He wanted another text from Ronan.

_ iMessage chat to _ ** HRH shitty bird boy **

_ Resumed 31 October, 2019, 12:03 am _

_ it’s finally spooky day in your hell country _

_ Isn’t it 5 am in England? _

_ Do you ever sleep? _

_ bold of you to ask that question _

_ halloween, bitch _

_ it waits for no one _

_ I’m really going to have to advocate better habits. _

_ I understand, you’re enthused for Halloween. _

_ do you even care at all _

_ I enjoy halloween like everyone else. _

_ Though your level of excitement feels a little pagan? _

when the skeleton army rises Jesus will forgive me

_ appreciate this glorious day parrish _

_ I have enough fear in my daily life, thanks. _

_ I filed my own taxes all throughout highschool. _

_ And payed rent. _

_ The horrors of early adulthood. _

_terrifying _

_ terrible i’ll never deal with that shit _

_ You’re the prince, we know. _

_ Do you also not have enough horror in your life? _

of course i do

_ but parrish. listen. _

_ this is the one day a year all the monarchy and parliament dress as they are in life _

_ hideous monsters _

He laughed a little harder at that than he should have.

_ You’re telling me the monarchy plays dress up. _

_ ronan_frankensteins_monser_costume.jpg _

_ matthew insisted. did this on me an hour ago _

_ oh my god _

The makeup _ was _really good, and the monstrous look suited him, but hell if Adam ever said that to him.

He may have saved it to his phone, though, to glimpse Ronan’s green-paint covered skin and crooked, drawn-on stitch smile on his perfectly blank face.

Although Adam certainly didn’t intend to make a habit of texting the Prince of England, when he saw a funny bird or a stupid article or an obscure meme his first thought became _I should send that to Ronan. _And Ronan, clearly, was thinking along the same lines. The sheer number of sole emojis that seemed to tell a Ronan-centric story he received at all hours only affirmed that. And somehow, between all the pictogramme and jokes, he started to learn snatches of information. Declan was a better storyteller than Ronan, Matthew was the only person who could make Ronan attend family dinners ever since their father died, and his mother - the Queen of England, Adam had to remind himself sometimes - drew further away every day.

The problem became that he always wanted to know _ more, _and Adam didn’t know if that was due to his rampant curiosity or something else buried deep inside of him, and he was too afraid of what he might uncover by digging to look.

Adam had very few friends.

Most of that came with the territory of being part of the First Family; nothing made casual acquaintances drift away quite like being constantly surveilled by Secret Service agents and trailed by NDAs. Adam didn’t have time for small talk and coffee, a fact which he sometimes lamented and often loved. Part of this came from the type of friendship he became accustomed to with Gansey and Blue, the all-encompassing type of friendship that took over their minds in spare moments and forged ties stronger than steel between them. He’d probably forgotten how to have normal, casual friends, not friends an outsider would think he was completely in love with. And, perhaps more than anything else, it came back down to Robert Parrish and his heavy hands and ringing words. Adam’s memories of his first few years were scattered and inconsistent, but they filled up a too-large corner of his brain all the same. Blue, who entered his life at the tender age of 5, had won his trust with greater ease than their other peers, and Gansey had done the same in high school. They knew him and what he’d been through, and so they could (platonically) love him for all that he was. When campaigning and political office came into the mix, that full truth of Adam Parrish became a secret to guard like any else.

But, oddly enough, Adam had a third friend: Noah Czerny, the thirty-three-year-old baby of the Senate.

Noah and Adam met through an Aglionby networking event while Adam was a student and Noah a recently-elected congressperson, both green as grass in different ways. Adam, thrown neck-deep into a Presidential campaign, had questions, and most of the time Noah had answers. Although all of the professors had warned Adam to proceed cautiously with Czerny, Adam found nothing to fear. Noah had mellowed out quite a bit from his high school days, becoming a familiar face at political events and a surprisingly-wise piece of advice always at the ready. Despite Adam’s near hero-worship of this brand-new politician, half-Mexican just like him and just as frequent to lose sleep rewriting policies that unjustly taxed communities of color or defunded children’s education, they’d formed an improbable bond. The summer before his sophomore year, Noah let Adam closer to the politics process than even his mother had as he ran for the Senate, and Adam took to it almost at once. A politician twelve years his senior was perhaps not a conventional choice of friend, but Adam seldom remained conventional.

It wasn’t too out of the ordinary for Adam to arrive at Noah’s congressional office unannounced, either with business or without, and so when Adam rounded on Noah’s stark, bright, white office, he wasn’t at all surprised to see him ducked over an obscene number of papers.

“It’s Friday night,” Noah said without looking up, barely before Adam had even crossed into the office. As always, the tiny burst of color in the Pride flag deposited in a tourist mug drew Adam’s eye for a long moment before Noah himself did. All Adam could see of him was his brown curls, resolutely held in place even as bent over a desk. “Go party or something.”

“Damn, I didn’t _ think _ this looked like a frat. I knew something was off.” Adam slid into one of the seats across the desk. He had several inches on Noah, but he always felt smaller in those chairs across from the most important legislators in the country. “What’s got you here at eight PM?” Off of Noah’s brief, incredulous look, he amended to _ “this _particular time, I know. You’re salaried. Shouldn’t you…ever go home?”

“I’m trying to get something done so that there’s at least a hope of banning fracking in our lifetimes.”

Adam scoffed quietly, though not for lack of faith in Noah. “Let me know when you’ve cracked the code.”

_ “If, _but sure, I’ll be in contact. Now, why are you here?”

“You didn’t answer my leaving-the-building question.”

Noah’s eyes flickered shut briefly. “Jesus, Adam, I am salaried by the taxpayers of millions of Americans. I’m not going to slack on them.”

“Fine, but don’t make me drag Gansey in here to make you take a long nap and drink some hot soup.”

Adam’s phone buzzed, but he ignored it; despite it being almost 1 am in England, Ronan could presumably take the blame. Noah asked, “Did you catch the Fox town hall last night?”

Adam grimaced. He’d seen part of it, trying to multitask with his macroeconomics homework at the same time, but instead he’d fallen asleep with his head on the laptop screen. “Part of it. It was a shitshow.”

“You can say that again.”

“I honestly thought that Whelk would pull more support from the extremists. He just seemed desperate last night.”

“Oh, he definitely was.” Noah leaned away from his desk, appraising Adam as though considering his words carefully. “We went to school together.”

“Aglionby?” Adam asked. He knit his eyebrows together. “How did I not realize he went there?”

“The school doesn’t exactly love toting him.”

“He’s older than you, though, right?”

“Yes, Adam,” Noah said slowly. “I’m thirty-three. He’s already announced a bid for President. How old do you have to be to run for executive office?”

Adam scowled. “I just came from class, I can’t use my brain. He was a senior when you were a freshman?”

“Yep,” Noah replied. “We were paired in upperclassmen-lowerclassmen bonding.” His lip curled a little. “He outed me.”

“Wait, _ what?” _

“He outed me to the school,” Noah repeated. He looked back down to the papers on his desk, his voice softening to a barely audible level. “I trusted him, which was a dumb thing to do, but I was a really stupid freshman. Scared, too. He was a friendly personality.”

_ “Fuck,” _Adam said, pushing a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, that’s…”

“Terrible?” A bit of Noah’s life returned to him. “Don’t worry about it, kid. It was years ago.”

“But then…Whelk, he was the reason you…?”

“He didn’t make my parents react the way they did. They did that on their own. But no, they wouldn’t have known without him.”

Adam shook his head. “I thought it wasn’t possible to like the guy less, if only because of his politics, but he’s done it.”

“Done what? Received the full wrath of Adam Parrish?”

“He very well may.”

“Don’t worry about him. Whelk will be out soon, believe me. I know him. He may have his parent’s money, but he’s barely old enough to hold office and he’s running on fumes.”

“If he’s not, I’ll convince Blue to skew stats until he is.” Noah knew just as well as Adam that that wouldn’t change anything, but it lightened the air anyway. “It seems kind of pointless to entertain any of them. Greenmantle is probably going to win no matter what.”

Colin Greenmantle: former antique collector, congressperson from Massachusetts, and millionaire with the funds to take over the Republican primary, and very possibly the whole election, before any papers were even filed.

“It’s early,” Noah said. “Too early to worry about it. Too early to even be _ talking _ about it.”

Adam slanted a half-smile at him. “Never too early to worry about an election.”

Noah looked back to his papers before broaching the next topic. “I hear you’ve got a job on your mother’s re-election campaign.”

“Once I graduate, and maybe a little earlier, yeah.”

Noah cast a glance around the office. “Are you sure this is the life you want?”

Adam knew he was referring to the constant bustle, the fear of disappointing and harming instead of helping, and the ever-evolving media scrutiny. He knew it was the closest Noah would give to a warning. “I’m sure.”

Noah sighed. “Fine.” He pointed to the door. “But I won’t let you throw your youth away, not this early. After you graduate, Parrish. Go get drunk and make out with someone.”

Adam stood, his frame unfolding and standing tall. “You are a terrible role model.”

“Can’t hear you over the loud music.”

“You and Blue and Gansey - if I die of alcohol poisoning, it’s all your fault.”

“Feel free to blame, so long as you’re out there and not here.”

“Alright, alright, Jesus. You’ve made your point.”

“Finally,” Noah called after Adam’s retreating form. But Adam could hear the amusement in his voice all the same.

For someone so allergic and averse to technology, Ronan sure seemed to share a lot with Adam.

_ iMessage chat to _ ** HRH shitty bird boy **

_ Resumed 13 Novemeber, 2019, 8:38 pm _

_ bird.m4a _

_ she wont stop nuzzling my head?? _

_ Picking for lice, probably. _

_ God knows you have so many. _

_ my scalp is perfectly clean _

_ Forgive me for abstaining from running my hands over it all the same. _

_ I’ll leave that to her. _

He didn’t always respond, though.

Adam tried not to read into it.

(He mostly succeeded.)

Adam never tired of stepping into the Oval Office. On the Wednesday right before Thanksgiving, he stepped in with the same amount of awe he always had, allowing himself a single moment to glance around at the wide windows and perfectly upholstered furniture. He sat on one of the couches without preamble.

His mother looked up from what was in front of her on the desk and smiled, albeit a tired one that frayed a bit at the corners; Adam had seen a few particularly troublesome foreign dignitaries be escorted away not long before, so he didn’t have to guess at the reason. Ana looked like she belonged to sit right there amongst all the history at that desk, from the sun dipping just beneath her halo of hair straightened within an inch of its life and her stick-straight posture. It might have been a lot at times, but seeing her was a reminder of all the good that came from her position.

She rose and walked to join him, her heels clacking lightly at the ground before she sank onto the cushion beside him and pulled him into a loose hug. Adam had overtaken Ana in height some years before, but there had been a long gap in there as he grew - like one day he was three and a half feet tall and wrapped tightly in her arms and the next he was off to Georgetown and several heads taller. She pulled away after a minute, slowly and bit-by-bit as though savoring her moments as a mother rather than a president. Her hand reached to muss his hair a moment later, and Adam ducked away instinctively before exchanging an identical grin with her.

“God, I forgot how light your hair looks in here,” she said, leaning back a little. “Almost golden.” She tilted her head as though examining him. “Nah. Still brown. But much lighter.”

“How could you forget? The photo here was in _ GQ, _the same article that first declared me the family golden boy.” At the corner of their conversation was the knowledge of where he’d inherited that hair color, as it sure as hell wasn’t from Ana. But he let the thought stay buried, patting the dirt back down with the shovel himself. Their relationship always had an absence in it, and he didn’t particularly feel like deepening it in the Oval Office.

“Ah, so that’s the one I have to blame for your big head,” she responded, reaching for a piece of fruit from the little coffee table. It was a familiar half-jest, borne from Adam’s constant contradicting confidence and imposter syndrome. Idiosyncrasies were just Adam’s style, never one to make things easy for himself. He sometimes wondered if so much of himself conflicted because he tried to walk the middle road so often, balancing his weight over all sides to minimize the damage if the rug was yanked from beneath him, like lying down on a bed of nails: a thousand tiny, dull pains over one sharp, potentially fatal puncture. She smiled again. “Is Noah doing well?”

“For Noah he is. He would barely look up from some new reports on fracking, seems hopeful he’ll be able to garner enough support.”

Ana snorted. “Good luck with that. I’ll be shocked if it reaches the floor for debate.”

“That makes three of us, then.” He nodded towards the desk. “Bad meeting?”

The frown lines on her face deepened. “Don’t get me started,” she drawled, falling back fully against the cushions. After only a moment, she _ did _ get started regardless of what Adam did or didn’t do. “We received the memo a few days ago that a delegation from Sweden wanted to be in contact, right? Fairly standard stuff, Maura gets back to them quickly because they worded it like it was an urgent matter, and there’s a back and forth for a while about scheduling and accommodations. We’re of the belief they won’t be out here until Monday at the earliest.”

Adam knit his eyebrows together. “It’s not Monday.”

“You fuckin’ tell me. Anyway, I’m halfway through a meeting with a few UN representatives when Maura has to interrupt. They arrived at the White House, claimed they had a meeting, and just…didn’t leave. Evan Maura couldn’t get through to them, which is the thing that scared me a little.”

“You should have put Calla on it.”

“Believe me, if she were here, I would’ve. But as it was, I had to hurry out the UN members to deal with decidedly more antagonistic foreign relations.”

“Why were they even here?”

“They wanted to discuss the military relationship between our countries-”

“What the hell?”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” she said, waving one hand in dismissal. “Any points they were trying to make went straight out the window when they started pulling out cue cards, to be honest. I might have to call Löfven to smooth things over.”

“Well, there’s never a dull moment,” Adam said fairly. His mother snorted.

“Sure isn’t. Anyway,” she said, glancing at her watch, “it’s now Thanksgiving, so no more meetings for twenty-four hours.”

“It’s Wednesday.”

She pulled a face in dismissal. “We take our patriotism seriously, darlin’. Don’t want our home state gettin’ too mad.”

“Of course.”

Ana checked her watch again. “The turkeys will be on their way to the Willard by now, so we’re not ruining any American traditions today.”

“Wait,” Adam said. “Where?”

She looked at him, her eyes narrowing. “The Willard. They stay there every year.”

“What? No. _ No. _You cannot give the turkeys five-star accommodations with taxpayer dollars. You’ve been doing this every year?!”

“It’s public knowledge, sugar. Every news outlet mentions it.”

“How did I not-” Adam cut off. “There is no way you can do that! They’re turkeys! It’s a waste!”

“It’s precedent, Adam. I’m not sure if there’s anything to be done at this point.”

Adam stood quickly, pacing back and forth, and his mother stood behind him. “It’s a _ blatant _waste of money, I’m shocked we haven’t already been-”

“Hon, every president so far has done the same-”

“Imagine the story if we broke the tradition! Even conservatives would have to applaud your frugality-”

“We can’t play games with tradition, you know they already call us disrespectful-”

“-we can’t be using _ taxpayer money-” _

“-by all means, if you have the time to find lodging for two forty-pound turkeys-”

“Put them in my room!” Adam blurted. His mother stopped short.

“You’re not serious,” she said. “We’re not putting the turkeys for me to pardon in your bedroom.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Adam-”

He shifted his feet, coming to a stop. He lifted himself up to his full height. Debate Captain Adam, six-time Best Delegate Adam, and First Son Adam converged into one. His mother barely looked phased.

“Oh, God,” his mother said. “I can’t listen to another sales pitch.”

“Madame President,” Adam began, “I’d like to echo the sentiments of the forebears before me-”

“Nope,” she said, making double-time back to her desk. “You’re not going to filibuster me.”

“In 2018 alone, at least forty-three articles in the Wall Street Journal accused the sitting administration of wasting tax dollars. This came on the heels of a tax increase for Americans making more than ten million dollars per year and the subsequent pushback from a more conservative electorate in Congress.”

“Fine!” Ana said, her hand falling to the desk with a thump. She brought it back up to her head to massage her temple a moment later. “I’m too tired to hear my own history read back at me. You win.”

He sat back down on the couch, crossing his legs primly. “Perfect,” he said, allowing himself to smile once again.

23 notes · View notes

zwritestuff · 3 years

Text

Some Things Are Bound To Be (Chapter Seven) - Kyara

A/N: I'M SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT, I've been going crazy with school, but I'm almost free, and true to my fashion, I wrote this instead of sleeping 😌 It's fine, I'm fine. Hopefully y'all like the chapter, thanks to Emerald ( @fromthenorthernskies ) for beta-ing! We're nearing the end, but these dumbasses still can't figure their shit out.

Read on AO3.

***

Priyanka doesn’t slap her when she tells her, though she wants to. Badly.

“You stupid bitch,” she exclaims, invading her personal space as she leans foward, mouth agape. Kyne doesn’t know if she should laugh or push her away, so she does the next logical thing and shoves Priyanka off, reaching for the bowl of chips. “You like her, but you’re gonna break up with her? Kyne, what the fuck.”

Kyne cringes only a little, partially because she’s sure even the people from the other building are able to hear Priyanka’s annoyed yell, and she knew this would be her reaction the moment the words left her mouth. The moment she had gotten that message from Kiara, she knew their scheme was bound to end—what else could she possibly want to talk about? Not the weather, obviously and not-- not Kyne’s stupid fantasy of a love confession, definitely not that.

So, only one option was left, and the clearest one at that. Kyne couldn’t bear the anticipation pooling at the pit of her stomach, so she did the next logical thing and invited Priyanka over, otherwise she would’ve ended up without nails by Monday.

She sighs a little, not letting the defeat show in her face.

“Not everything has a happy ending, Pri. And, y’know, we could still be friends, I guess.” Kyne shrugs, taking a mouthful of chips, and Priyanka knits her brows in a frown, silent for a moment too long. Kyne tenses.

Oh no. Priyanka, silent? Something is coming. Most likely, something Kyne won’t like to hear.

“No,” Priyanka finally says, quizzically. Kyne cocks a brow, setting the chips bowl back on the coffee table.

“No?” She repeats.

Priyanka gives her a look; not a fiery one, like she always has when she’s about to give her a heartfelt speech when she feels like she might need one. No. It’s hard to put a finger on the emotion she’s looking at her with, but it’s neither pity nor concern—it might just be easier to call it a Priyanka-esque look.

“No, this isn’t like you at all,” she says, folding her arms, an accusatory tone dripping from her tongue. Ah, shit. Not another pep-tak. “Fuck, if you were to tell me years ago that Kyne, the one bitch that stuck up to fucking Professor Brooke Lynn Hytes back in college, because she knew she had graded her papers wrong, would even think of giving up on a girl she likes, just because she might get in trouble with her parents I woud tell you to fuck right off, because that’s not my friend. Not at all.”

Kyne groans, rolls her eyes and grabs the nearest pillow to smash her head against. It annoys her that Priyanka is right, again. She hasn’t let her live down the fact she had to tell her she liked Kiara for her to realize, to begin with. And she’s convinced she’s never going to hear the end of it when--

--when there’s a pat on her head, and a heavy sigh.

She looks up and sees Priyanka, gazing at her with a more understanding gaze. She doesn’t look like she wants to strangle her—not for now, at least.

“You should tell her, y’know,” she says, with a tone that conveys she knows she’s right. Kyne knows she is, and she hates it. Priyanka might be stupid sometimes, but she’s stupidly cunning—for important things, anyway. And this, Kyne thinks, she’s deemed important.

So she just avoids her gaze, fidgeting with her hands. “But what if it’s not mutual? What do I do then? She’ll think I only accepted to be her fake girlfriend to use her.” She chews the inside of her cheek. It had been more than a recurring thought ever since she realized her feelings for Kiara, and more than once it had slipped through her mind. The idea that Kiara would just straight up stop talking to her if she thought she’d been used this whole time. That, or she would be fired on the spot.

(Bo’s words still run through her mind every so often, and it’s becoming rarer and far in between the times when she lets Kiara touch her in any way. Because if she does, Kyne’s not sure if she would be able to hold back.)

Priyanka groans, pulling and pinching the skin under her eyes. “God, I know you’re-- that we are lesbians, but god damn, not even I am this useless, and I’ve been pining for Kiara’s secretary for months now!”

“You’ve been pining for Lena?” Kyne echoes, but Priyanka dismisses it with a wave of her hand.

“Don’t change the topic, that’s my job, and I don’t wanna change it now. What I mean, is that Kiara definitely likes you, but you’re literally the last to know. Again.”

Kyne blinks, what Priyanka said not fully sinking in just yet. Then, she bushes furiously, much like the first time, and shoves Priyanka.

“No she doesn’t.”

“Oh my God, I will actually murder you one of these days.” Priyanka pinches the bridge of her nose, and then looks at her with a tired expression. “Yes, she fucking does. You literally spend all your time with her, and you haven’t picked up on the way she looks at you? I swear it’s the most stupid, lovey-dovey look I’ve ever seen, I’m disgusted just thinking about it,” she says, making faces and pulling her tongue out, and it really doesn’t help the blush that takes power in Kyne’s cheeks.

Dear Jesus, not another thing Priyanka had been able to pick up on her relationship with Kiara before her. She should get her a date with Lena, maybe that way she’ll stay out of her business.

But right now, there’s really no escaping Priyanka, since this is her own apartment, and she can’t kick her out at 1 a.m., so she sits through the scolding with an annoyed glare that Priyanka can’t care less about.

“Pri, stop, I get it; I’m dumb, blind, whatever. I know,” Kyne finally says, stopping Priyanka’s pointless rant about Kyne being the biggest useless lesbian she knows. She sighs heavily, knowing Priyanka won’t like what she’s about to hear. “And as much as I’d like to believe you, I don’t wanna risk my job, just because you’re delusional again.”

Priyanka yelps, slightly offended, and squints at her. “You know she can’t fire you just because, right?” She asks slowly, and Kyne scoffs. Of course she knows. But if she fired girls she slept with and no one batted an eye, then what are the odds she’ll be any different?

She tells Priyanka what Bo told her in big details, and she looks at her in disbelief.

“Fuck all the way off, that’s not true.”

Kyne cocks a brow, “How do you know?”

“Because Bo hates Kiara’s guts since her father fired one of her friends, but, like, they were on their right to fire her. She was purposely sabotaging projects, I think it was because her sister had married some dude owner of a rival company; the details are kinda blurry.” Priyanka folds her arms, an accusatory glance twinkles in her eyes, though it’s not directed at her, not really. “Didn’t you know? It’s all she talks about since you became closer with Kiara.”

Kyne blinks repeatedly, not really believing what she’s just heard. Priyanka’s stare is burning a hole through her, expecting an answer, but Kyne swears there’s white noise engulfing her, numbing her; the only thing she feels are her nails digging in her palms.

Bo lied to her? How could she? Even if she didn’t like Kiara, she had no right to lie to her; especially knowing full well she’d believe her. They were friends, after all.

Well, maybe tomorrow they won’t be.

“Why— why would she lie to me? I don’t get it.”

She knows Bo is as fiercely protective as she’s petty, holding grudges until she forgets why she was mad in the first place. But this? This is a low blow.

Priyanka shrugs, not really sure either. “I don’t know, girl, but she must have a good explanation. This doesn’t sound like her at all,” she offers, and Kyne desperately hopes she’s right.

She would never be able to forgive Bo for making her replace all the eagerness and comfort she felt around Kiara with panic and heightened fear of losing her job, every time their hands brushed and Kiara’s tentative fingers tried to reach for her.

Well, maybe she would, but it would take many apologies and a drink or three. Or maybe a whole bottle.

***

Monday morning comes around, and Kyne tries to not break the foam cup with Kiara's coffee with her tight grip, anxiety pooling in her stomach at the sole thought of what she's about to do.

Priyanka spent the entire night trying to convince her to just tell Kiara about her feelings, to woman up and rip the bandaid at once without much thinking. Kyne had finally relented only when they were about to fall fast asleep, and the alcohol was making the room spin ever so slightly, as she decided she didn't have anything to lose by telling Kiara of her feelings.

If she ended up losing her job, Priyanka had said she could hook her up with one of her cousins, a well-respected lawyer, so they could sue the Schatzis for all they had. Of course she wished they didn't have to go to that extreme, and even dared to dream of a movie-like moment.

Of course, dreams are a thing completely different in reality, she reminds herself of that when she lets herself in Kiara's office, briefly greeting Lena and sliding past her, who doesn't even give her much of a glance.

(At some point Lena stopped caring about her, even developed a sixth sense to know whenever she was around to not waste her time in telling her to wait a second so she could tell Kiara she was coming.)

Kiara is already scribbling something on a notepad, holding her phone to her ear with her other hand, and Kyne knows that by the scowl plastered on her face she should wait a second before saying anything.

But then she glances up, her expression easing up in a second as a smile blooms on her face, signaling her to sit down, doing silly faces when she points at the phone, and she wants to laugh stupidly loud because anything Kiara does she finds endearing, but they'll have time for that later.

“They were out of chocolate chips, so I brought you a blueberry muffin,” Kyne says once she hangs up, omitting the part of her knowing blueberry is her second favorite flavor, because she mentioned months ago and she never forgot. She can say that later, so she just passes her the paper bag with the muffin and her cup of coffee.

Kiara smiles at her, saying a polite thank you as she gives the muffin a bite, leaning back on her chair, looking already tired of work when it's barely starting.

There's silence for a moment too long, where they just eat and sip, but nothing lasts forever, so Kiara is the one to break it.

“I think you'll remember I wanted to talk about something,” she begins, and Kyne nods, prompting her to go on. She's too confident in what she's about to say, thinks they're on the same page.

Nothing prepares her for when Kiara leans forward, the smile all but gone and replaced with a neutral expression, and Kyne just knows something is bad. That this won't end like she wants.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” she continues, fidgeting with her rings, avoiding her gaze. When she locks eyes with her, there isn't any hint of the warmth and kindness is used to see in them. They're hollow, void of any emotion. Her throat closes up in anticipation. “And I think you're right, we should end this pretend relationship before it goes too far.”

Kyne blinks, once then twice, until she's awkwardly staring at Kiara, digging her nails in her palms.

Fuck, she thinks. And for a long second her mind is just a loop of the word fuck. This isn't even Kiara's doing, it's hers, her own words and actions came back to bite her in the ass, and there's no way she can blame Kiara for wanting to call it quits after she snapped at her.

Her plans are gone to waste, there's no way she can bring up the way she feels about her after this. It just wouldn't be right. So she does the next thing she knows best; she deflects.

“Well, I mean, do you think it's been enough time for people to not get suspicious?” She manages to stutter out, trying for the love of her dignity to not let the quiver in her voice give away the tears that are to come at some point.

Her nails dig in her palms further, probably drawing blood, when Kiara just shrugs. Like she doesn't care. And it stings like a bitch.

“Does it matter? For all I know, we've done more than enough. I think it's a good time to stop before-- it's just the time.” Kiara clears her throat, and Kyne wants to ask before what, before she falls even more in love with her, if that's even possible?

So she inhales sharply, taking a long sip from her coffee, finishing it all in one motion, and tries to not let it show in her expression how much it actually affects her.

“For all I know, I really liked being your fake-girlfriend,” she confesses, and it's not really a lie, but it isn't the entire truth. Kyne did like every second of it, even if at the beginning her mind was clouded with anxiety and fears, she liked having lunch with her and spending time together outside work hours, liked when she laughed so hard she ran out of air, and her nose scrunched up and she made a weird sound that she said she was ashamed of. She liked when she'd absent-mindlessly run her hands through her hair when they were watching a movie together, and it would send shivers down her spine.

(And Kiara, she just likes all about Kiara. She likes Kiara.)

It’s just that, for a fleeting moment, she hoped they could be real, that even if Priyanka was wrong and Kiara didn’t like her back, she could grow to like her.

Maybe she could’ve loved her if she had been given the chance. Maybe she could’ve loved her either way, if she had been given more time. Maybe she could’ve loved her.

(She could’ve.)

“You can keep my cupcake, I'm not hungry,” Kyne says, giving her a smile, one that doesn’t reach her eyes, one that probably looks forced and not at all real, but she can’t be bothered right now. Not when she feels her heart ache and a lump in her throat prevents her from speaking.

Kiara just blinks, about to say something else when Kyne leaves without saying anything; she knows the second she opens her mouth, a choked sob would come out.

In exchange, Kiara doesn’t say anything to her for the rest of the day, and the day becomes the week, and it stings deeply in Kyne’s chest. She was so close to saying it, to stop letting the words linger in the air and manifest them.

But it’s over now. So suddenly and abruptly, and it's all her fault.

Kyne supposses it’s her own fault for not being honest sooner, for letting the lies numb her good judgement. She knew Kiara, it was impossible that she was capable of any of the things Bo said she did were true, and yet—

She shakes her head, trying to concentrate on her job.

Kiara not talking to her isn't the end of the world she thinks it is, even if it feels like it. She'll eventually get over it, find someone new and forget she ever felt something for her.

But God, it's easier said than done, when she sees her every day around the company, and for once she knows where the rumours of her being cold hearted come from; she doesn't see her crack a smile once. Not even the tiniest smirk, and if Kyne didn't know better she'd say the two women she's always hanging out with look at her when she passes by with an annoyed glance.

Kyne wants the earth to open and swallow her whole.

By the second week of silence, she catches Kiara's glance on her way to a meeting by pure chance; she's looking at Bo, who's telling her about this guy from Tinder she's been seeing, just when Kiara is coming out from another office. Their eyes meet for a fleeting moment, and it digs a deeper hole in her chest when she finds they're still void of any emotion.

Fuck, she misses her so much. Kyne swears she could cry right there and then if she didn't have to speak at a stupid budget meeting for a new project.

“So is it true?” Bo says enigmatically, and Kyne cocks a brow.

“What?”

“That you and Miss Bitch Heiress broke up.” She stops in her tracks, shit, news fly fast, don't they? Bo gives her a pitiful smile and a pat on the shoulder, but Kyne swats her hand away.

“Don't act like you didn't want this to happen,” she snarls, resuming her walk. She hasn't brought up that she knows she lied to her, because that implies reminding herself how much she royally fucked up, so she's been avoiding it. Kyne sure has a talent for avoiding her problems until they blow up in her face.

“Well, I sure as hell didn't want you getting hurt because of her,” Bo tries to defend herself, but Kyne just rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, sure,” she merely replies, not looking at her, hurrying her steps, feeling a lump growing in her throat by the second.

It bottles up, like it always does, even though she promised Priyanka she'd try to let it out. The thing is, as much as Kyne knows she can trust Priyanka, it's not like she isn't constantly worried of being a burden with her feelings ever since Kiara called their pretend relationship quits, so she tries to limit the amount of things she tells Priyanka.

She doesn't tell her she barely sleeps, that she can't see cupcakes without feeling nauseous, that she picks up her pace when she walks by the restaurant she took Kiara to for the first time - that she's even contemplated burning the damn dress she bought her. That it pains her to look at it every time she opens her closet and sees it hanging there, among her other clothes, because it sticks as a sore thumb out and it reminds her of how happy she was that night with her.

It all bottles up, and admittedly, she should've known better than to drink her feelings away.

It's Friday night, and they're at a new bar that opened around Scarlett's place. She's actually put effort in her appearance, curling her hair and picking one of her prettiest dresses, done her best eyeshadow in ages—and yet, no amount of tequila shots can fill up the void she feels in her chest.

She ends up crying and admitting how she really feels when she accompanies Priyanka outside for a quick smoke that turns into a full therapy session. Or well, something akin to it.

“I miss her,” Kyne cries out, Priyanka wipes the tears away before the rimmel ruins her whole face.

“I know,” she replies simply.

“Shit, should I call her now and tell her everything?” Priyanka groans, visibly cringing.

“Baby, gimme your phone, you’re not calling anyone at three a.m. unless it’s an Uber,” she says, reaching to grab Kyne’s phone, and for a drunk person she’s far too quick to move her hand away.

“But--”

“Listen, bitch, you know I love talking and giving pep talks,” Priyanka cuts her off, “But, I am sure you would forget it by the morning, so we’re not having this conversation right now.”

Kyne rolls her eyes, folding her arms; why Priyanka has to be right even when both are one shot away from being drunk out of their minds? It’s not fair.

“So, now that’s sorted out,” she says, stomping on her cigarette, “We’re going home bitch, I can’t have you following me around the bar looking like a raccoon,” Priyanka speaks matter-of-factly, and Kyne gasps offended, swatting her arm. But she ends up giving in when she unlocks her phone and sees what her tears have done to her rimmel.

They go back inside to find the others to tell them that they’re leaving, and Kyne doesn’t have time to think of an excuse to give Scarlett as to why her eyes look puffy when Priyanka tells them what happened. Scarlett immediately coos and wraps her in a clumsy hug, saying how sorry she is, that she looked so happy with Kiara, she never would’ve imagined it would end so soon.

“Bobo, shut the fuck up before I cry again,” she warns, half-jokingly, half-serious. Scarlett lets her go, but a decided look settles on their face.

“Fuck no bitch, you need us now; we’re all goin’ back to my place, and we’re not lettin’ you go to sleep until you crack a smile-- and stop lookin’ like a damn raccoon.”

“I don’t look like a raccoon!” Kyne yelps, offended.

“Yes, you do,” Bo pipes up, and Kyne grumbles while her friends laugh at her expense.

So, they make their way back to Scarlett’s apartment, arms linked as they talk about anything that comes up to their minds to distract Kyne. And it works, she laughs until her stomach hurts, and tears pool at the corner of her eyes, except they’re not sad tears this time, and she feels so grateful for her friends as she kicks off her shoes, and Scarlett drags Priyanka to help them re-arrange things in her room to fit everyone.

She’s left alone with Bo, who’s been rather silent towards her these past days. Kyne knows why, but she isn’t sure right now it’s the time to bring it up.

Of course, nothing ever goes like she wants it to, so Bo clears her throat before speaking.

“Kyne, listen, I have something to tell you--”

“I know,” Kyne cuts her off, not wanting to deal with this right now. “Priyanka, she told me you hate Kiara. She told me why, she told me everything.” She meets Bo’s gaze, and it hurts her only a little when she sees the regret in her expression. Her petty side is stronger when she’s drunk.

Bo inhales sharply before speaking, “Yeah, I know. Priyanka scolded me about it when you refused to go out for lunch with us for the third time in a row,” she admits, toying with the hem of her shirt. “Listen, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I was trying to look out for you so you wouldn’t get hurt, but--”

“But it happened either way,” Kyne finishes, sinking further into Scarlett’s couch. Bo sighs, sitting next to her.

“And I’m sorry about it, you really did look happy,” she muses quietly, giving her a pat on the shoulder. Kyne can’t be bothered to swat her away again. “I guess I never really forgot her for breaking my friend Abril’s heart.”

Kyne frowns, curious; Kiara never spoke of any Abril. “Is that your friend that sabotaged projects and shit?” She wonders, turning to look at her. Bo sighs heavily.

“Yup, the one and only. She was Kiara’s friend from college, and she was the one that got her the job. I think they were dating at that point, I don’t remember well,” Bo recalls, trying to make sense of the blurry memories. In the end, she dismisses it with a wave of her hand. “Whatever. Now that I’m being honest, I wasn’t even sure the rumors about her sleeping around were true, I just believed them out of spite.”

She blinks repeatedly, not really believing what she’s hearing.

“So you feel bad for the girl that used Kiara and betrayed her trust, instead of feeling bad for the girl that got her reputation ruined before she actually started working at the company?” Kyne says slowly, and Bo cringes at herself.

“When you put it like that it makes me sound like an asshole,” she complains, and Kyne almost snaps her optic nerve with the way she rolled her eyes.

She’s over this discussion already, and she’s not really sure what did she gain out of it; closure, maybe? Whatever it is, she decides she’ll think this new information through when she’s more sober—and her face doesn’t itch with the ruined foundation. So she just stands up and asks Bo if she’s going to take her make-up off, and Bo follows her to the bathroom without saying anything.

Later on, when Priyanka and Scarlett are done scattering blankets and pillows on the ground, she’s able to sleep peacefully for what feels like the first time in years. Maybe she should keep this in mind for the next time a rich girl breaks her heart; there isn’t a better way to sleep than using Scarlett as a pillow, while Priyanka is sprawled over her and, ironically enough, butting heads with Bo.

***

Another Monday comes around, and Priyanka has decided to put the non-sense to an end. She solemnly walks up to Rita Baga’s office, saying to Tynomi that she has important business stuff to discuss with her. Yes, like that.

Tynomi side-eyes her, but ends up letting her in, anyway. It’s still early and she knows for a fact Rita doesn’t have anything important until ten a.m., so she sends Priyanka in.

Rita looks as imponent as she always does, and the way she quirks her eyebrow at Priyanka absolutely does not intimidate her.

Fine, maybe a little.

“How can I help you, miss…?” She squints, and only then Priyanka remembers she’s never properly talked with her.

“My name’s Priyanka, and you can help me by listening to me and then talking some sense into your friend,” she says, and Rita cocks her head, furrowing her brow. Okay, maybe she should be more specific. “I’m Kyne’s best friend, and if my instinct is right, Kiara is as sad for their break up as her. Which is why I need your help; you see, my idiot is convinced your idiot hates her, but I know better than that, so if you’d help me to push them to talk things out, I will be eternally grateful.”

Should she be calling Kiara an idiot in front of her friend and fellow CEO? Probably not, but anyway, what’s done is done.

Rita goes from confused to surprised, to confused again. She clears her throat before speaking, “I’m sorry, I thought Kyne was the one that wanted to end things…?”

“Oh, it’s a bit of a complicated situation, but I assure you, she absolutely regrets snapping at Kiara.”

They stare at each other for a long second, before Rita finally reaches for her phone and calls up her secretary.

“Tynomi, would you mind coming in for a minute? We have a bit of a problem.”

#my fanfiction #rpdr fanfiction #kyara #online kyne #kyne #kiara schatzi #priyanka love #scarlett bobo #boa #rita baga #tynomi banks #fake dating au #some things are bound to be fic

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twokinkybeans · 4 years

Text

FALLEN LIKE SNOW - CHAPTER 5: MIRROR, MIRROR

Written by @jeranasblog and kinkybeanlien

Moodboard by @jeranasblog

Peter and Tony discuss the incident of the Charity Gala.

Notes: Adult Peter Parker, Fake dating, One sided enemies to lovers, No powers!AU, Mutual pining, Sugar daddy!Tony, Sugar baby!Peter, Fluff, Smut and Angst.

Smut tags (some for later): Wet Dream, Dry Humping, Daddy Kink, Mirror Sex, Dom/Sub Undertones, Bondage, Humiliation, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Fingering, Edging, Lingerie, Dom/Top!Tony, Sub/Bottom!Peter

Read Mirror, Mirror on AO3!

Peter paced around the penthouse, grabbing things he knew were his. Not the stuff Tony got him. He didn’t want to pack any of that. Didn’t want to take it home with him. He found his way through the room based on his memory of the place. His tears distorted his sight too much to be a reliable way to navigate. His chest heaved and he barely heard the door to the penthouse open with his heart pounding so loud between his ears. “Peter-” “Get out!” Peter yelled instinctively, throwing the closest thing he could grab toward the entrance. A thud and a short “woah!” told Peter he hit his target. Good. He turned to make his way into the next room, not wanting to be in the same space as Tony right now. “Whatever you saw out there, was not what it seemed-” Peter ignored Tony and grabbed his suitcase to throw it on his bed. He tossed in all the things he knew were bought with his own money and scoffed at the complete lack of personal items. Peter figured he might as well just go to the airport without the suitcase. Heck, that’ll even save him money on his plane ticket.

“Listen to me, please-” Tony begged. Peter huffed and turned to pass him, so he could get to the bathroom for his toothbrush. “The woman you saw me with is Tara Anderson. Rich. As. Balls.” Peter threw his hands up. “Great!” “No- you don’t- I didn’t- Argh!” Tony clenched his fists together in frustration, but Peter didn’t care. “I let her flirt with me cause she can make the charity a shit ton of money, I never wanted her to kiss me!” Peter halted and slowly turned his head to look Tony straight in the eye for the first time. His eyes shot daggers. “You let her.” The words came out calmer than he thought they would. “I was just about as shocked as you were,” Tony scoffed. “You didn’t hear what she said when you ran off.” Peter walked into the next room, with Tony right behind him. He decided to just stop replying to Tony altogether as the man told the story of how this woman purposely tried to sabotage Tony to give him bad press and to ruin the charity event. He then explained how Tara was removed from the gala and how everyone is doing their thing again. That everything’s okay again. Peter barely contained a scoff when Tony said that. Everything’s okay. How wrong he was. Nothing’s okay. “I already got yelled at by Pep in front of everyone. That I can handle. I can’t handle this, Pete, please, talk to me.” Peter pressed his lips together. He couldn’t find any stuff that belonged to him anymore. All he managed to gather were some toiletries, his passport and his phone charger. His shoulders drooped as he looked up at Tony, eyes and cheeks red from crying. Defeated, he finally replied. “Why do you even care?” His voice cracked. “All of this?” Peter slightly lifted his hands to gesture around before dropping them to his sides again. “It’s fake anyway.” “Was this afternoon fake too? Everything we’ve been saying? Doing? Was it really fake?” Tony stepped forward, bending his upper body toward Peter a little. “I don’t know anymore, Tony.” Peter could see how the use of his first name stung Tony more than he thought it would. “I’m just a poor guy from Queens. You’re…” Peter vaguely pointed in Tony’s direction. “You.” Tears streamed down Peter’s cheeks again. He didn’t know how he did it, but he had rendered Tony speechless once again. No reply, just an intense stare. Confused. “What would a rich man like you ever want with someone as regular as me?” “I’ll be honest,” Tony sighed, dropping himself against the doorpost. “Out of all the things I expected out of this week, falling in love was the last thing I thought would happen.” “Well, I-” Peter stopped his sentence, only just catching up with what Tony, his boss, said. “What?” He whispered. “This morning I asked myself why a bright young man like you would want to be with a dirty old guy like me.” Tony shook his head, grimacing. “I don’t know what spell you put on me, what potion you put in my drinks, if you soaked a voodoo doll with my face on it in your perfume, but by God, Peter…” Tony paused, taking another step forward and slowly releasing his breath. Tony’s fingers gently curled around Peter’s, lifting up their hands to kiss Peter’s palms. The touch tickled, but Peter couldn’t move. Not with what Tony was saying -no, confessing- to him. “I am utterly and indescribably infatuated with you. You make me feel like a person. Like… Me.” Tony smiled slightly, lips quivering. “I want to spoil you and I want you to yell at me for my mistakes. I want you to protect me from nightmares, to hold me, and to hold me accountable for my actions and words. I just- I want you. Undeniably. Please, Peter, I can’t be what we both want me to be if you don’t trust me.” Peter opened his mouth, but no reply came out. Just a shaky gasp. “I have fallen for you like snow. Seemingly slow, yet so fast- building higher and higher until I was in too deep.” Tony dropped to his knees in front of Peter and looked up with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. “You’ve got a voice of your own, Peter. You don’t kiss my ass like everybody else does. You’re smart and funny and gorgeously handsome and if I get even just one night to worship your body, I will draw out every drop of pleasure. If you want to go, I won’t stop you. I’ll pay your ticket. I just… I hope you want to stay. For me. For you.” Time had stopped. Tony’s words hit Peter like a brick. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, yet he’d never felt more alive than right that moment. Their eyes were locked together and Peter slowly took one of his hands back from Tony’s to cup the man’s face. He stared down at the billionaire and whispered. “I love you too.” Peter squinted, trying to force the flow of tears to stop. Tony released all the stress from his shoulders and rested his head against Peter’s stomach with a soft whine. “I…” Peter needed a second to regain himself. He barely believed what he was about to say. “I’ll stay.” “Thank you-” “On one condition.” Tony looked up wide-eyed, curious. Peter took his other hand back and wiped his face with the sleeve of the button-down shirt. “We switch places.” “We…” Tony frowned for a second and it was only when he looked down at the floor when he realized what Peter meant. A wide grin spread across Tony’s face and slowly, he stood up. He was only a little taller than Peter, but just having to look up slightly had Peter sink down already, craving for the distance - the power imbalance - to be bigger. Once he got down to the height of Tony’s hips, he managed to breathe again. Tony’s hands quickly found their way into Peter’s hair and he tugged. Peter couldn’t help but let out a soft moan already. Tony hummed and smiled warmly down at Peter. “Baby boy, before we get started…” Tony mumbled. “Traffic lights?” Peter pressed his lips on top of each other and nodded, relishing in the pull of Tony’s hands in his hair with each movement. “Do you want this?” Tony asked softly. “What we’re about to do? What I’m about to do to you?” Peter nodded again, but apparently that wasn’t good enough. Tony sounded cheeky with his next words. “Hm, didn’t I tell you I’m big on consent? I wanna hear you say it, Petey.” Tony leaned down slightly so he could look Peter in the eyes more easily. The hungry look had Peter shiver. “Use your words, baby. Do you want me to overwhelm you?” Every part of Peter’s body tuned in to Tony. His words, his movement, and his intense stare, already practically undressing Peter in front of him. “Yes- Please,” Peter gasped. “Take me apart.” … It wasn’t long before Peter found himself seated on their bed, pants and shoes discarded, with a pillow between his legs. His hips rolled at an agonizingly slow pace, set by Tony. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned, revealing the black lingerie underneath. His throbbing cock strained achingly against the fabric of the panties as he pressed down into the pillow, angling his hips to create the friction he so desperately wanted. Only moments before they discussed hard limits and now Peter is trying to get himself off humping a pillow like a pup. With every roll, the button-up slid lower down Peter’s arms until the shoulders rested in the crooks of his elbows. “What a sight…” Tony praised, circling the bed like a predator. “Go a little faster for me, sweetness.” Peter did as told and held back a whimper. “D-da-Tony-” “Hmm?” Tony chuckled. “What’s that?” Peter gasped when he suddenly felt Tony’s body press against his back, arm slithering around his waist to take control over Peter even further. Tony was now completely in charge of the rhythm of his rutting. He could feel Tony’s clothed dick press against the crack of his ass through the panties and Peter worked even harder when he pushed back now, wanting to grind against his Da- against Tony to make him feel good too. “Tony-” Peter whined again. “Tsk.” Tony sucked a wet kiss on Peter’s shoulder and tugged at the dress shirt with his free hand. “I don’t think that’s what you want to call me, is it?” Peter scrunched his face together but kept moving in line with Tony. His panting started growing louder and louder and occasionally he would moan softly. “Need me to help you with that, baby? Are you embarrassed about it?” Peter nodded aggressively, not wanting to say a word. He wished he could hide, but he felt too good to let it all go. Tony’s hands glided over the black lingerie, tugging at loops and straps as he caressed Peter’s skin. Tony’s lips seemed glued to Peter’s neck, sucking hickeys and gently licking the sore spots afterward. Peter couldn’t help but let out a long, dragged-out moan when Tony suddenly increased their pace and pressed Peter down further into the pillow, creating the perfect friction. His fingers found Peter’s nipples and he started circling them. Pinching them. Twisting them. Oh, God- “Go on, baby,” Tony cooed. Peter whined softly when he felt the knot in his stomach tighten. “Show Daddy what you got… Edge yourself for Daddy.” Peter didn’t have to be told twice. His hips got a mind of their own. Whatever intellect Peter had, it was disappearing like snow melting on the mountains during summer. He only had one goal now. Make Daddy proud. “Oh,” Tony exclaimed sweetly. “Such a good boy, keep going… Get yourself there-” “Y-Yes, Daddy, thank you, thank you, thank you-” Tony chuckled as he continued caressing every inch of Peter’s skin. Peter could feel Daddy growing harder with every thrust and the thought that his Daddy might be inside of him soon, had him see stars. “I haven’t even done anything yet,” Tony laughed softly. “Already dumbing down for you Daddy, Petey?” Peter couldn’t do anything but nod and moan as he chased his high. He twitched when Daddy moaned too. “Hmm, you’re thinking of my cock, aren’t you? You’ve seen it. How big it is. The girth it has. Bet you imagined me bending you over and fucking you raw. Haven’t you?” “H-have, Daddy, I have! Want you inside me so bad, o-oh, fuck!” Peter’s rhythm faltered as he neared his climax. “You like cock, don’t you?” “Mhm-” “You love cock, don’t you?” “Mhm!” “I’m gonna make you love my cock. Mine only.” Peter gasped as his body convulsed. “Gonna make you take it in every single one of your holes. Fill you up and spill on you until you’re stained and spent. I’m gonna make you mine, Peter. My little cock slut. You want that. Don’t you?” “Oh, God, yes, yes, Daddy, please, claim me- AH!” Peter wailed as he pushed himself away from the pillow to prevent himself from shooting his load inside his Daddy’s panties. The hand that Tony had curled around his waist moved down to squeeze the base of his cock to help stop Peter from cumming. Peter panted heavily, not wanting to sit down just yet, scared of losing control. Daddy’s hand petted Peter gently. Sweetly. “Such a good boy for Daddy, so pretty, all for me,” he cooed. “F-for you,” Peter replied mindlessly. “For me… That’s it.” Slowly Tony guided Peter to sit back down again. Peter melted against Tony’s chest and closed his eyes as he came down from the edge and he smiled dreamily. “For you…” Peter repeated again, breathless. “Love you…” “Oh, Peter. I love you too, and I’m going to show you how much, baby boy. Tell me one last time, do wanna give me control?” Peter fought against the fog in his mind and tried to focus on his Daddy’s words. Did he want to give Tony control? Did he want to surrender himself to Tony, surrender his body, his mind? Yes. He couldn’t imagine anything better than being held down, being forced to take everything his Daddy wanted him to. Giving in sounded like heaven, like freedom, safely secured in Tony’s arms. “Green, so green,” The words were slurred, he struggled to get them out, but Tony understood and as soon as Peter gave his permission the billionaire changed. His gaze became hungrier, darker. His posture straightened until he was towering over Peter like a predator, ready to hunt his prey. A shiver ran down Peter’s spine, arousal mixing with anticipation and Peter let out a small whimper, ready to surrender himself completely.

“I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you, baby. So needy, so willing. Come on, Pete, wrists behind your back.” Peter looked at him, his eyes wide open and his gaze unfocused. Everything was blurring around him. He didn’t hear the rustle of the heater anymore, didn’t see the clothes that were scattered all over the floor. Hell, he didn’t even feel how his cock was twitching in his panties, soaking them and stretching the fabric obscenely. The only thing he could focus on was his Daddy, his body, his voice and his commands. Without hesitation, Peter crossed his wrists behind his back. Tony growled, a sound that rippled through his chest and Peter could see that he pressed the palm of his hands against his growing erection. Knowing that he wasn’t the only one affected by it, made Peter bask in happiness. He was the reason his Daddy was hard; he was the reason the billionaire felt good.

Tony loosened the knot of his tie, pulling until he held it in his hand. It was beautiful, silky red fabric that meshed with his lingerie set. Suddenly, he couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted this, wanted his Daddy to tie him up, to take control and he started to beg. “Daddy, p-please, I need it, n-need you, please.” His begs were pathetic, his voice high-pitched and shaky, but his Daddy grinned, pleased with his reaction. “Beg for me again, baby. Tell me what you want me to do to you.” Peter’s eyes rolled back; the first rush of humiliation was washing over him. That was exactly what he wanted, what he needed. He would do anything to be good for his Daddy, anything to get fucked tonight. “Please Daddy, tie me up,” he started to sob. “I-need you, wanna be good for you, your good boy, your good slut. Wanna be tied up and fucked, wanna feel you for days, Daddy.” There was no shame left, no second thoughts, only the desire to please his Daddy. When Peter finally felt the fabric wrapped around his wrists, he immediately relaxed. It was evident that Tony didn’t do this for the first time; the pressure was perfect, not too tight and not too loose. He moved his hands a little, checking if he was really restrained and when he couldn’t free himself on his own, Peter sighed in relief. There was nothing he could do to stop his Daddy, nothing but using his safe word, and the realization made his stomach flip.

Tony stood up, leaving Peter on one end of the bed, helplessly arching in his restraints. Tony was watching him with a smirk, walking around the bed until he sat down on the other side of it, his back propped against a bedpost. “Crawl to me, baby. Show me how much you want my cock.” Tony’s command was enough to make Peter moan. The humiliation was dialed up, the light glow was getting stronger and stronger until it felt like he was burning. His body was twisting in pleasure when he scrambled to his knees, his wrists still bound behind his back. His shoulders fell onto the mattress, face pressed against the sheets and his ass was raised into the air. He didn’t have his arms to hold himself up; crawling to his Daddy would be a struggle. Tony’s gaze was fixed on him, wandering over his body until it lingered on his raised ass. He could feel how his shirt slid down his back, leaving his ass bared except for the black panties that hid nothing.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” Tony’s voice was hoarse. “Listening to all of my words like an eager little slut. Hurry, baby, climb on Daddy’s lap.” The words washed over him, fueling his arousal even more. He crawled closer. His ass wiggled with every step and he could feel his legs straining. Peter struggled to cross the distance, struggled to follow the command, but with every inch, with every word of his Daddy, the desire to be good intensified. Finally, he reached Tony and crawled into his lap without help. Tony’s eyes were black and his arms wrapped around Peter’s middle, pulling him closer against his chest. Without warning, the billionaire gripped his shirt, ruining it by ripping the fabric apart to reveal his body. The animalistic gesture turned him on, and Peter twitched on his lap, his cock leaking more precome into the panties.

„Daddy, may I suck your cock?” Immediately after the question, Peter blushed. The billionaire laughed in response. “Oh, baby. So polite. Go on, entertain me.” Peter smiled, anticipation bubbling in his stomach and suddenly he felt the urge to prove himself. He could do it, would be the best boy his Daddy ever had, sweet and obedient, exactly how Tony wanted him. He moved until he was presenting in front of Tony, his ass raised and his back arched. His Daddy growled when he opened his pants. He didn’t even pull them down. A surge or arousal warmed Peter, knowing he was presenting in lingerie while his Daddy had only pulled out his cock.

Peter knew he couldn’t suck on the warm flesh without help, the restraints limiting his movements. He was dependent on his Daddy’s help, needed the billionaire to aid him, to guide him. A small whimper made his Daddy chuckle, and he gripped Peter’s hair, pulling his head closer. He went limp, the pressure on his head grounding and his lips fell open obediently. “God, baby boy, you look like you are dying without a cock,” Tony smirked; one hand stroking his cock while the other hand held the students head in a tight grip. Peter wiggled, tried to get closer to his Daddy’s cock, to take it into his mouth, but the billionaire enjoyed making him squirm.

“Look how hungry you are, how desperate for my cock. Show me how bad you need it, baby. Try harder.” Peter moaned loudly, so close to his Daddy’s cock, but not close enough. Tony was teasing him, his tip was pressed against Peter’s cheek, smearing precome over his face and when Peter closed his eyes in frustration, Tony slapped his cock against Peter’s face. It was too much. Tears were running down his chin, tears of pent-up arousal and painful desire. “D-daddy, I c-can’t, I need, I…” He was out of words, unable to voice his needs and he couldn’t do much more than look at his Daddy, pleading him with his eyes. Thankfully, Tony showed mercy.

“If you want me to stop blink twice.” This was the only warning Peter got before Tony finally gave him what he wanted. Peter couldn’t take it slow. His Daddy had pulled his head over his cock and he was forced down, unable to hold himself up with his hands. He went limp again, relaxing his throat and covering his teeth before his Daddy went deeper and deeper, the tip immediately nudging against the back of his throat. Peter moaned when he choked for the first time, the vibrations tingling along Tony’s flesh. He loved it, loved the musky smell of his Daddy, the taste of his precome and the smoothness of his skin. Every time his throat clenched around his Daddy’s cock, Peter’s insides squirmed, imagining what it would feel like to be impaled by his Daddy. When the air got short, Tony pulled his head up again, allowing him to get a deep breath.

“So beautiful, your lips are red and swollen, baby. You’re made for me; you belong to me. Tell me who owns you, baby? Who paid for everything you wear? Who controls your pleasure?” “You, Daddy,” Peter managed to answer before his Daddy forced him back down and Tony growled when Peter’s tongue licked a long stripe on the underside of his cock. “I love you baby. I’ll protect you, I’ll spoil you and force you to take my cock. So beautiful for me, baby, so trusting, presenting for me.” Peter whimpered, unable to answer, his mouth stuffed with cock, but he hummed in agreement. Yes, yes, all of this. This is what he wanted. Someone to love, someone to argue, someone to force him down in bed. Nothing had ever felt better than being here, his arms tied behind his back, while his throat was working to let his Daddy in.

They stayed like this for a few minutes, lost in each other and their shared pleasure until his Daddy was twitching, finally getting close. He ultimately pulled back Peter’s head, separating the spit slick lips from his cock. “Baby, I want you to turn around for me. Let me show you how precious you are, how beautiful.” Without protesting Peter turned around, his panty-covered ass pressed right against the billionaire’s crotch. “Don’t tempt me, baby.” Tony’s hands loosened the knot of the tie, massaging his wrists to make sure they didn’t get stiff. Peter was torn; he wanted to be restrained, wanted to be at his Daddy’s mercy, but he wanted to touch Tony as well. “Baby, don’t sulk,” his Daddy’s voice was gentle, but a hint of command was shining through. “On my lap, back to my chest.” Without thinking, Peter obeyed. Tony manhandled him until they were sitting where he wanted them to, in the middle of the mattress, facing the mirror on the wall. Peter could see their reflection, Tony’s eyes dark and predatory, but still composed while Peter looked like a mess. His skin was glistening in sweat, his face flushed and his lips gleaming with spit. His Daddy lifted his hand, caressing the outline of Peter’s face, caressing him until he pressed a finger between his lips. Peter couldn’t stop himself and moaned, gently sucking on his Daddy’s finger. The billionaire groaned, thrusting his finger in and out of Peter’s mouth, watching him in the mirror. “Can you see how beautiful you are? How perfect we look together?” Tony shifted until his erection was pressed against Peter’s ass, nestling where it belonged. “Can you fuck me, Daddy,” Peter whispered, desperation making his voice tremble. “I need it, I can’t take it anymore. I need to be filled. Please.”

The words finally broke Tony. He roared, throwing Peter face-first onto the sheets, not even giving him enough time to catch his weight with his arms. A hand buried itself in Peter’s hair, pulling until he had no choice but to lift his head, watching his reflection in the mirror. Tony made quick work of his panties, ripping them in half and exposing his ass to fresh air. Peter’s eyes rolled back, his vision starting to blur, and slowly, he started losing track of time. He didn’t notice that his Daddy had retreated himself, even though he was still staring at the mirror, he didn’t hear the click of an opening lube bottle. The next thing that got through the fog in his mind was a wet finger nudging against his hole.

Peter sobbed and tried to push back, tried to impale himself on his Daddy’s finger, but the billionaire pulled back every time. Desperation filled him, lightening up his body and fueling the arousal inside of him. His cock twitched uselessly against his stomach. “Beg, baby. Or don’t you want me enough?” No, no, no, no, no. Dread bubbled up inside of him, surging through his body like lightning and more and more tears spilled from his eyes. He wanted it, wanted nothing more than his Daddy’s fingers, his Daddy’s cock. Being denied hurt as if a part of him was missing. “No, no, Daddy, please. I’ll do anything, I promise. I belong to you, you own my pleasure, my body, just, please, I…” “Shh, baby, calm down.” Tony seemed to sense his distress and pressed soft kisses against his back, trying to assure him they were fine. “Daddy’s gonna take care of you, sweetheart. Don’t you worry.”

The first finger that pried him open felt like relief and Peter breathed out, basking in the feeling of being filled. He hadn’t noticed how empty he had felt before, but now, with his Daddy’s finger inside of him, he could finally calm down. The familiar haze was taking him under, he could feel himself becoming sweet, becoming dumb for his Daddy. The only thing on his mind was his Daddy’s fingers and his cock, anything that could make him feel so good. The second finger didn’t even hurt, spreading him open, preparing him for his Daddy’s cock. Knowing what was going to come made him feel even better, made him savor the stretch more. Nothing had ever felt so good, so wholesome and when his Daddy finally started to thrust in and out of him, Peter almost blissed out.

Each drag against his walls felt like a blizzard of arousal, taking his pleasure higher and higher. He wailed when Tony spread his digits, whimpered when he pressed a third inside. The voice of his Daddy was washing over him, obscene words telling him what exactly Tony wanted to do to him, how much he wanted to control him, and how good Peter felt clenching around his finger. Peter soaked the words up like a sponge, starved of praise, of attention, of his Daddy.

Eventually, his Daddy pulled back, leaving him twisting and empty, his back arched seductively. “No, D-Daddy. Don’t p-pull back, I n-need you, I need…,” the words were whispered and slurred, barely spoken out loud, but Tony understood how he always did. The lube bottle clicked for a second time, but this time, Peter knew. A broad smile spread on his face, making him look dumb and delirious. He didn’t care, wanted nothing more than being close to his Daddy, nothing more than feeling him for the first time.

When the tip of his Daddy’s cock finally breached him, Peter floated. His muscles went lax, giving his Daddy enough room to enter him. The slight burn was everything, taking him higher and higher, making him lose every sense in the world. He had never felt like this before, as if he was out of his body, quietness surrounding him, and the only thing anchoring him was his Daddy’s cock.

A loud smack tore him from the fuzzy place, warming his ass and buzzing through his body. “Baby, as much as I love it when you go all sweet on me, I want you to be here with me.” Peter whimpered and wiggled, hoping for another slap and only a second later, Tony delivered. The hand of his Daddy was reddening his ass, leaving patterns in the shape of his hands. Peter could see in the mirror how his ass wiggled with every slap, with every thrust of his hips and he knew he couldn’t last much longer.

“Baby, can you see how you take it for me?” Tony growled in his ear, pulling his torso up until he was pressed against Tony’s chest. His legs were spread obscenely and he could see how his Daddy's cock disappeared into his body over and over again. Each thrust pressed the tip of Tony’s cock against his sweet spot, making him whine and howl in pleasure. “The moment you wore my clothes, the moment you came here with me, I wished you were mine. Mine to spoil and mine to fuck. God baby, your hole let me in so easily, like a good little slut, made to take my cock.” “Daddy,” Peter’s whine was high-pitched, desperate, begging for his Daddy. He needed something, anything, couldn’t last even a minute longer. Tony seemed to know what he was thinking, what he needed and a hand wrapped itself around Peter’s cock.

The touch was already enough. Peter was coming, his cock spurting over the sheets, messing them up with his come while his hole clenched around his Daddy. Everything was exploding inside of him, pleasure coursing through every cell of his body, flooding his senses and making him cry out through his orgasm. His walls were milking his Daddy, begging him to fill him up. He could hear how Tony growled. The billionaire whispered over and over again that Peter was his, that Peter belonged to him. Finally, he could feel his Daddy coming inside of him, his cock twitching, filling Peter up exactly how he needed it. He wanted to stay like this forever, close to his Daddy, filled and claimed by him like a good boy. But eventually, Tony pulled out, making lube and cum dripping out of him, soaking the mattress.

Peter could feel that his Daddy laid him gently on his side, that he took a washcloth and wiped him clean. He purred, still caught up in the afterglow of his orgasm, too weak to move. “I luv you, Daddy.” His voice was soft and tired, but he needed to let his Daddy know how much he meant to him. “Baby, I love you too. So much. Running into you in the elevator was the best thing that could happen to me, to us.” Peter smiled, basking in the words and Tony’s affection. Here he was, 4000 miles from New York, in Austria, and he had never felt better, never felt more at home. “We can make this work, baby. We can be so good for each other.” Happiness bubbled inside his chest and he grinned madly. “Yes, Daddy, we can. You’re all I need.” “And you’re all I need, sweetheart.”

When sleep was finally taking him over, Peter still smiled. He had been so afraid the trip would be a disaster, but in the end, it had been the decision he had ever made.

27 notes · View notes

marril96 · 4 years

Text

When in Rome...

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Your and Rowena’s moment of fun is ruined when an alternate world hunter starts making unreasonable demands.

A/N: Set after 13x21.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

Things were hectic at the bunker, and if it wasn't for your and Rowena's tiny, same-private space, you would have gone insane. The two of you settled on a pair of chairs by the library, invisible to the swarm of people around you. It was more for your benefit like hers; Rowena could handle herself amongst people just fine, having done so for almost four hundred years.

As an introvert, you were finding it difficult. There was too much noise, too many people. They were like ants, swarming you, surrounding you, technically harmless but not enough for you to let your guard down. They may not have wished you harm, but the majority of them were still hunters. As such, they couldn't be trusted. Just because Rowena had helped them didn't mean they posed no threat. The two of you were witches, and that was enough for them to want you dead.

You were supposed to be on your way home by now. With the rift taken care of and everyone back home and safe, you and Rowena had done your part. But there were still a few things the Winchester needed help with and Sam had asked Rowena to stay for a while longer. She agreed, and thus you were stuck. You weren't going to leave her here alone, the only witch in a sea of humans. Leaving her alone had gotten her brutally tortured and murdered by Lucifer the year before, and from then on the two of you had agreed to stick together as much as you could. Where one went, the other followed.

"You have to work on your pronunciation," Rowena said. You were having difficulty with a spell and had asked her to help you out. Anything to pass the time.

"Gaelic is hard," you said.

"It is," Rowena agreed, sympathetic. She was a great teacher, endlessly patient, quick to calm you down every time you got into one of your I-quit moods. "Would it help if I wrote down the phonetics for you?"

"Yes, please!"

She smiled. "Alright." You handed her the piece of paper the spell was written on. She took a pen from the coffee table and started scribbling on the back. "When we get home, we're starting Gaelic lessons again."

"Okay." You'd handled Latin just fine, but could never grasp Gaelic. It was a difficult language to learn. Pronouncing it was all but impossible. "There's a language school in town. Maybe I should sign up for Gaelic lessons."

Rowena looked at you, deadpan, serious. "Don't insult me."

You grinned, which prompted a smile to break free on her mouth. "Just kidding. You're a good teacher."

She raised an eyebrow. "Just good?"

"Great. Awesome. Gorgeous." Her face lit up; the way to Rowena's heart was through flattery. "Sexy. Lovely. Adorable."

"Adorable?" she questioned.

"Most adorable." You booped her nose, and she scrunched up her face, confirming your words. Adorable. Adorablest. Goodness, you loved her! "God, you're so precious!"

She playfully smacked your arm, cheeks flaming, red as her hair. "Am not."

You pouted. "Ow! No violence!"

"Then behave."

"So mean."

"That's right. I'm mean. Not adorable, and certainly not precious."

"Sure." Your tone was dripping with sarcasm. Rowena rolled her eyes with all the drama of a theater actress, a practiced, seasoned one. "Think I'll ever be as powerful as you?"

The thought came to you out of nowhere, though it wasn't the first time you'd pondered it. Rowena was a powerful witch. One of the most powerful witches in the world. Was it possible for you to acquire such power? Birth hadn't gifted you nearly half of it, but was it possible to amplify what you had? Was practice and studying enough? Or would you forever be a regular witch, no different than any other in the crowd?

You were okay with being ordinary, but it would be a lie to say you didn't aspire to be like Rowena. The woman could make gods fall to their knees, could make archangels tremble in their vessels. One word, and what she wanted was hers. Who wouldn't want to be like her?

Many witches would kill for a chance to study under her. You were dating her. All you had to do was ask, and all her knowledge, gathered through centuries of hardship, was yours.

You just needed skill to harness it.

"Aye," Rowena said without a moment's hesitation. Completely and utterly sure of her response, as if you'd asked if the sky was blue or if bees made honey. She just knew it, and she was certain of it, and it made your heart swell up with warmth. "You're a natural-born witch, just like me. You're skilled, and you work hard." A smirk grazed her lips. "You have a great teacher, after all. I don't see why you wouldn't be like me. Power is taken, not given. Remember that, dear. I was born with potential, just like you. It was up to me what I did with it, and I made the most with it because why wouldn't I? It was mine for the taking."

She made it sound so easy. So effortless. Want? Take. Have. The end. If only you were gifted with such confidence. If only you were so sure of your capabilities. You weren't a bad witch by any means, but your power was still raw. Untamed. You still struggled. In comparison to Rowena, you were a peasant.

To be fair, almost every witch was a peasant in comparison to her, but that didn't make you feel any better about yourself.

"You're really good at pep talks, you know that?" you joked, trying to lighten the glum mood that befell you. No use beating yourself up over something trivial. After all, it was just magic. Your magic, that worked perfectly fine the way it was. However much you wanted it, you didn't need limitless power. You weren't helpless; you could defend yourself if you were in need. You could fight. You could have fun. So what if you couldn't seek out and kill reapers? It didn't make you any less of a witch, no matter what your insecurities said.

"Shut up!" Rowena said, a traitorous giggle — one of the most adorable, precious sounds she could make — escaping her mouth.

"You should pursue it as a career," you teased.

It earned you a glare that had to have killed before. The kind that scared everyone but you because you knew her enough to know she was all bark and no bite. A yappy puppy that loved to put on an act in attempts to be tough, all the while melting into a puddle at the softest touch.

You pecked the tip of her nose and blew her a kiss as she shot you another glare. The corners of her mouth twitched; she kept it shut, lips a thin line, giggles begging for freedom that would never come.

"You know what my favorite spell is?" Your eyes wandered to a bookshelf across from you, right behind Rowena. You focused on the spine of a random book; a leather-bound one, with neat writing and intricate lines trailing around the letters. As old as you and Rowena combined, possibly older. Beautiful in that way old, well-loved books were. Your hands rose up in the air, palms open, and you said, "Liber."

Magic stirred within you, a warm, comforting rush of delight, and the book shot out from the shelf, straight into your waiting hands. Your mouth dissolved into a grin as you clutched the book to your chest, heart brimming with pride, with wonder. No matter how many times you performed the same spell, it never ceased to amaze you.

"Lazy-arse," Rowena commented.

You shrugged. "Why should I get up when I can just say the word — Liber—" you glanced at another book, and it, too, jumped into your hands "—and voila! It's here."

Rowena shook her head. "I should have never taught you that spell."

"Hey!" you protested. "I'm a practical girl."

"You're a lazy girl."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

She sighed, shaking her head.

"It's fun and you know it! Liber!" This time it was a journal, written almost a century ago by some Man of Letters. You set it on your lap, atop the other two books. Rowena couldn't help it — she chuckled, and you shot her a smug glance. "Told ya."

"It's not—"

"Could you stop?"

The two of you looked up, startled by the unknown voice. A man was staring at you. He was tall, hair a scruffy brown, clothes hanging on him like curtains — Sam and Dean's borrowed flannel, too big for his skinny frame.

Rowena frowned. "Beg pardon?"

"Could you stop doing magic?" His voice was strained. Politeness as fake as the smile he was trying to put on. "Please."

"We're not doing anything bad," you said, baffled by the request. Unsure how to approach it. "We're just having fun."

He swallowed. Cleared his throat. Swallowed again. "Could you please not do it?"

Why did that please sound so accusatory? So insulting? As if he wanted to call you a bad word and opted for a pleasantry instead, hoping you wouldn't notice.

"Why should we not?" Rowena asked, daring him to shed the mask and say exactly what was on his mind. Challenging him the way she always did, never one to back down.

"It's making me uncomfortable," the man said.

Rowena raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"We're not doing anything to you," you said. You didn't even know his name. Up until now, you'd never seen him before in your life. Plenty of people had rushed in through the gate; you were more focused on Rowena, tired, at the end of her strengths, than the swarms of strangers bursting in through the rift.

"I don't like magic."

The man's cheeks flushed, a faint tint of shame staining them red. It was hard to believe he had any shame, saying things like that. For all you knew, it was as fake as everything else about him.

"Or witches." Instantly, pulling on a ridiculous smile, he added, "No offense."

People always said that, as if the phrase somehow made the blatantly offensive thing less offensive. As if it made it okay just because someone said (and lied through their teeth) they didn't mean it.

You stared at him, flabbergasted. Rowena's face was the picture of offense, but there was a flicker of amusement in the small smile on her mouth. She'd heard it all before. All the worst insults, she knew by heart. Nothing surprised her anymore. The audacity of the man, though, made her want to curse him right then and there (you could see it in her eyes, the desire to let her magic roam free, to unleash it upon him), but she kept herself in check. No need to make a scene — yet — over an insolent man.

"I don't mind you… doing whatever it is you do," he said. "Just, please, don't do it in front of me."

"Then don't look," Rowena said simply.

He tilted his head. "What?"

"If our magic bothers you so much, don't look at it. Surely you are able to look away?"

A nervous smile. "In my world, witches—" the word was spat out as if it were dirty, foul "—don't hang around hunters. And they don't use their magic around us, if they know what's good for them."

Was that a threat?

"This isn't your world, is it?" Rowena said, cold as ice. Tone a thinly-veiled threat.

"I'm just saying I'm not used to seeing magic being used so openly," the man said with an innocent shrug.

You couldn't resist a retort. "And we're not used to being threatened so openly." Two could play this game.

"I'm not threatening you."

"Yes, you are." You weren't going to back down, either. Rowena had taught you well. Alone, you would have cowered, maybe ran away, but with her there, you had nothing to fear. She wouldn't let anything happen to you. She wouldn't let a stranger — an ungrateful hunter — lay a finger on you. "Leave us alone."

He held up his hands, a feigned surrender. "I'm not doing anything to you. I just want you to stop using magic around me."

Looking him straight in the eyes, you held out a hand to your side and exclaimed, "Liber!" The book — a random paperback — flew perfectly into your palm. Not taking your eyes off the man, you laid it on the others in your lap. Does this bother you? your gaze said. Challenged. Dared. Does it make you uncomfortable?

It apparently did for he shifted his feet awkwardly and took a large breath. "Please, don't do that. I don't want you any harm. I just don't want to be around magic."

"You're the one who approached us," you pointed out.

A gulp. "Like I said, in my world—"

Rowena cut him off. "Shall we find you a way to go back?"

He stared, baffled. "What?"

"You seem to miss your world. Would you like us to help you go back?"

"Wha-that's not what I'm saying!"

"Witches fear you in your world, do they not? Isn't that what you want?"

"I don't… that's not what this is about. I don't want you to fear me!" The tone of his voice, his demeanor, the flicker in his eyes said otherwise. "Just stop using magic! How hard is that?"

"You didn't mind our magic when it kept the rift open for you and your people to come here," you said. "Maybe we should've let it close and left you in that war-torn shithole."

A vein on his forehead popped, face flushing an angry red. "I didn't ask for your help!"

"Why'd you come here, then? You could've stayed home. No magic there."

"You don't know what it's like to see everything you've ever known destroyed. The people you grew up with dead. Your home shattered to pieces."

"Sounds horrible." It truly did. "Seems you're better off here. With witches."

"I'm not used to your kind."

"Get used to us, then."

"Your kind is unnatural." He spat it as if it were filth.

There we go. "So you do have a problem with witches." Surprise, surprise.

"I don't want you here," he said. As if his opinion held weight. As if he had any say in the matter.

You couldn't hold back a laugh. "Sam and Dean are our friends." Acquaintances? Allies? Who was counting anymore? "We've been here long before you. If that bothers you, why don't you leave? You're living here for free. You're wearing Sam and Dean's clothes and eating their food. You don't get to make any demands."

"Who are you to talk to me like that?" he spat. "You're just a witch!"

"And you're an ungrateful bastard!"

"Watch your mouth!"

"Or what?" Rowena said. "What are you going to do, boy?"

The hunter leaned in as if to whisper a secret. "Sam and Dean won't always be around."

"That's right," Rowena told him, looking him straight in the eyes. Making her own threat clear. "They won't."

He laughed. "You're pretty feisty for a witch. Knew a few of them just like you. At the end, they were all begging for mercy."

"I don't beg."

"Yet."

"Leave us alone!" you shouted, purposely loud, having had enough of this. You'd agreed to stay on Sam's behest, but you'd never signed up to be harassed. You weren't going to let some lowly hunter threaten you.

All the chatter in the Bunker instantly stopped. Heads turned your way. Eyes observed you, curious, confused. The hunter froze at the sudden attention, caught off guard.

"Is everything okay?" Sam asked, walking over.

"This guy's threatening us," you said.

"What?" He eyed the hunter, who put his hands up.

"She's lying."

"She is not," Rowena said. "This nit won't leave us be."

"Is that true?" Sam asked him.

The hunter sighed. "They were using magic. I just told them to knock it off."

"We were just having fun," you said.

"And I told you I don't want you to use magic around me!"

"It was a simple bloody spell to pick up books!" Rowena snapped. "We weren't hexing anyone!"

Sam looked from the two of you over to him. "What's the problem?"

"The problem is, they're witches!" the hunter said. "How can you let them into your house?"

"They're friends," Sam said defensively.

"They're witches." His face twisted with disgust. "And they were using magic. Doesn't that bother you?"

"No. They weren't doing anything wrong."

"Their entire existence is wrong."

"Fuck you!" you spat.

"Okay," Sam said, holding up his hands. "Okay, let's all calm down."

It was easy for him to say. He wasn't the one being insulted.

"I want them gone," the hunter said.

Sam turned to him. "They're not going anywhere. Like I said, they're friends, and we need them."

"I don't need them."

"That's fine, but this is Dean and I's home. They're welcome here." He pointed up the stairs. "If you don't like it, there's the door."

Warmth swelled in your chest. Rowena smirked victoriously.

The hunter was flabbergasted. "Are you seriously siding with witches over a hunter?"

"Yeah," Sam said without a flicker of a doubt. "I am. They've helped us a lot. If it weren't for them, the rift would have closed and none of us would be here right now. I understand your reservations, but they're not bad people."

"You're crazy! This world is crazy!" Sam shrugged. The hunter rolled his eyes. "Suit yourself. I'm not hanging around witches."

He slid up the stairs and slammed the door on his way out so hard the walls shook. You sighed in relief. Good riddance.

"What was that all about?" Dean asked, emerging from the kitchen with a sandwich in his hands.

"One of the other world guys didn't like our rules," Sam said.

"Sucks to be him," Dean commented, took a bite out of his sandwich, and went back to the kitchen.

"You guys okay?" Sam asked.

"Aye," Rowena said. "A wee hunter doesn't scare us."

"Sorry about that. Most of the guys are really nice. I swear, this won't happen again."

You sure hoped so.

"Don't worry about us, Samuel. We're big girls."

You nodded, though it felt nice to know the Winchesters — for once in your life— were completely on your side.

"You're always welcome here," he said.

"We know," Rowena said. "Do you happen to have any more of that scotch from last night?"

Sam laughed. "Sure. I'll get you some."

"It would be much appreciated."

You quirked up an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

She shrugged. "That nincompoop exhausted me. I need a drink."

You supposed that was fair. Maybe you could snag a glass as well.

And, hopefully, you could head home soon.

As welcoming as the Winchesters were, there was no place like home.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @shadowgirl-vsb @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock @fangirlxwritesx67 @rowenaslilwitch @midnight-lestrange

#rowena #rowena macleod #spn #supernatural #spn family #rowena x reader #my fics #fanfiction

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Better For You

Jonathan Finn (Hidden Agenda) x Reader (Male)

Warnings: Swearing, Mention of Murders, Mentions of Death Row

Genre: Fluff

Summary: What can you do when the love of your life is behind bars, counting their days alive until inevitable demise? Y/N can answer that question - their lover has been awaiting death row for five years. Though their days together are numbered, they don’t let that cloud of melancholy bother them when in the company of one another because in those moments their love is all that matters and all that exists. They have nothing to fear as long as they keep their eyes on each other.

Requested by @dark-pictures-until-dawn Hello dear! I’m so happy to finally be getting to your request - hits close to home cause I too may be a little in love with Finn. Sorry it has taken me so long to fulfill your request, I hope the read makes the wait worth it! Enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

“And here I was wondering who today’s visitor may be.“ Jonathan Finn smiles at the sight of his lover being let into the room for visits. Another man awaiting his own death wouldn’t be able to smile like that. No one would be able to. How he’s able to manage it? It’s got something to do with the face he’s been seeing every week for the past five years. The face of the person he fell in love with before ending up in jail. The person he promised he’d become better for.

And then Adam had to fuck everything up for him. He promised him it’d be the last time they would be pulling a stunt like that. He promised it was their ‘last hurrah’. Finn had tried to refuse and kept doing so, he had made a vow to set himself straight - no drugs, no alcohol, no faked fucked-up kidnappings and murders. All for Y/N. He was prepared to become a better man of the person he loved.

Leave it to Adam to fuck up his life.

He’ll never forget Y/N’s face when he visited him for the first time five years ago. How the two of them sat in absolute dreadful silence after he explained to him what was going on. He had been trying to hide the fiasco he was a part of for the longest time. So many things had piled up and having to lay them on Y/N so suddenly brought them both inexplicable pain. To Finn for admitting his untruthfulness and to Y/N for obvious reasons. He barely said a word to Finn that day, he couldn’t bear to look at him either, he had kept his eyes on the table that separated them. He could swear he saw tears falling from his eyes, tears that felt like bullets fired directly at his heart. Tears he was the reason behind and he wished he could wipe off Y/N’s face. Wished he could just wrap his arms around him and not let go, shield him from the cruelty of the world he himself was a victim of.

“Don’t push your luck, Finn. I’m your only company, don’t get choosy.“ Y/N says, settling in the chair that’s basically become his at this point.

“Even if I had other options I’d still choose you, darling.“ They sneak a quick squeeze of each other’s hands while the guard isn’t looking but pull away almost immediately.

“Uh-huh, sure you would.“ Y/N shakes his head, rolling his eyes at his boyfriend. However, just beyond the façade of nonchalance, lies a painful sense of fear, dreading the inevitable. It’s been five years in the coming and the pain has only been growing stronger and stronger with each passing day, flaring up worse whenever he went to see Finn. Despite the unpleasant feeling it caused him, he never missed a week. He never left him alone on the Fridays he was allowed to visit him. Hell, he’s been in and out of the jail so much he knows the guards and staff. Sometimes, if the pair’s lucky, a more trusting guard would be observing the visit and would allow for Finn to be uncuffed during it. The guards could know one thing for certain - he would never hurt Y/N. In fact, he’d commit the first murder of his life if someone dared hurt him.

He says he’s no murderer, and he’s not, he’s just a lover. A lover who becomes a ruthless fighter when someone dares hurt the person he loves - the only person that matters to him and the only soul that has ever connected with his. Y/N loves him and he loves him - that sort of connection is way more than he ever thought he’d get in life. He’s ashamed to admit but he half-expected Y/N to leave him after he revealed his past to him. All the shit that he saw and went through back at Las Palmas. He never spoke of the Trapper, as mentioned. That was something he wanted Y/N to stay away from by lightyears.

“How have you not grown tired of this?“ Finn asks, his question shifting the conversation to a more serious tone.

Y/N laughs a little, desperate to stray away from the serious, deprecating side of the story. He has always forced himself to focus on Finn when he’s there. On the fact that they’re together. Focus on the silver lining instead of the shadows of the cell they’ve been meeting in every week for the past two years. He has been trying to convince himself that what matters is who he’s with, not where the two of them are.

And certainly not what’s ahead of them, what the future holds for them

“Are you serious? It’s the highlight of my week.” Y/N says, his voice full of fake cheerfulness. He’s good a performer, he can put on an act no one would question the authenticity of. A person who knows him less would’ve fallen for it, but Finn would never.

His eyes bore into the ones of his partner, locking them in place with a gaze of intense sincerity, preventing them from wandering elsewhere like they always do when under pressure or to avoid speaking the truth. “Seriously, Y/N.”

Y/N’s arms cross over his chest almost defensively as he stops to think for a moment, formulating his answer the best he can, “It’s not like I can ever grow tired of seeing you, Johnny. Hell, if you weren’t behind bars we’d be seeing each other every day. Who knows, maybe we would even be living together.” Y/N shrugs his shoulders, “I mean, I have this dumb thing where I...every time I’m on my way here I feel like fate will maybe turn around and you’ll be set free. Like, I’d walk in and they’d say ‘Congrats Y/N, your boyfriend is coming home’, you know? I guess hope really does die last.” He waves his hand dismissively, finally managing to break his eyes free from the spell Finn cast on them, taking the opportunity to look around the cell he’s seen hundreds of times. “I know it’s silly, but I still hope that you’ll change your mind and speak your truth. I’m still not quite sure why you refuse to do it, but I have faith you know what you’re doing. If you trust this Adam so much, there’s nothing for me to do.” A small sad smile graces his features as he accepts the same defeat for God knows what time in a row.

This isn’t the first time they’re having a conversation like this. It’s always the same point phrased slightly differently from the time before. Y/N gently nudging the subject of him speaking out about what’s really been going on but also not letting Finn say a word. He has tried to hard, pushed and pulled, convinced and begged, he’s done all he could just to get Finn to confess, rat the son of a bitch out. Even if the cops don’t believe him, Y/N would still have the closure that he gave it a shot. And Finn always refused cautiously, each time explaining what a complex situation this was and that he couldn’t pull a stunt like that out of the blue, seeing as how it would endanger Y/N as well. He knew Finn would rather kill or be killed than to have harm even come close to his lover.

However, oddly enough, today Y/N’s words struck a different nerve. A nerve that sent a surge of a feeling he’s never felt before - possibility.

He’s been making plans, daydreaming about his life once he’d be broken out of jail. How he’d become a better person, this time fully, not only by leaving his addictions behind. Him and Y/N are two halves of a whole, they complete one another. Though he’s always seen himself as the lesser half - while Y/N gave his all, he felt like he put in the effort his old habits kept him from putting in himself. He felt like he weighed his partner down more than completed him.

He deserves a half as good as he is, He’d always think to himself. Yet he’s selfish - despite the deprecating thoughts, the evil whispers telling him how far from enough he was for Y/N, he was selfish and didn’t want to let him go. He loved him too much to even find the idea a possibility. Not that Y/N would allow it either. He’d give him a good pep-talk if he ever dared brought it up, that he knew.

He has suddenly grown tired of planning in vain. He’s tired of making plans which he’ll probably never get to turn into a reality. His stomach is engulfed by a sickening feeling at the thought that he let himself trust an unreliable bastard such as Adam for so long. Five years spent in silence, holding onto blind trust like a drowning man hangs onto a twig.

Enough is enough - and five years are more than enough.

But he doesn’t say anything, not to Y/N. He waits for him to leave before executing his plan. He watches as he goes, turns to give him one final wave before disappearing down the dim hallways of the jail. Finn makes a silent promise as he leaves.

‘You won’t be seeing me here again, Y/N. I’ll do all I can so you don’t have to.‘

Finn wastes no time requesting to get in touch with his lawyer - he’s wasted too much time. So many hours, days, weeks, months, years he could’ve spent with Y/N but was locked away from him. So many moments left unexperienced because he made wrong call after wrong call. He’s had enough of his own mistakes, he’s now taking steps toward making those plans of his a realization, starting by getting himself off death row, out of jail and in the loving embrace of Y/N.

“Easy there, Johnny.“ He hears his voice at the back of his head, softly speaking that phrase he always used to tell him, “One step at a time. Running is not how you wanna go through life.“

He won’t be running but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t pick up the pace - he has to make up for all the time he spent standing still.

* * *

“How does it feel to be a free man again, Johnny?“ Becky Marney, the main reason for his freedom greets him in the lobby of the police station, a pleasant smile on her face as she stands side by side with Felicity, another no minor reason for him being where he currently is - uncuffed and changed into a normal day-to-day attire standing without the firm grips of the guards on his upper arms.

“Like I’m breathing with full lung capacity.“ A heartfelt smile lights up his features, “How does it feel being a national hero?“

Becky laughs, “Couldn’t have done it without you. I’m happy I could contribute in the restart of your life, Finn. I’ll miss seeing Y/N though.”

Y/N and Becky did end up sparking a friendship in the long years he was in and out of the prison halls. Thankfully, the detective was rather keen on keeping the operation to prove Finn’s innocence out of his partner’s earshot. He wanted to surprise Y/N.

“I wouldn’t worry. He is not the type of person who easily lets go of people. We’ll probably stay in touch, Marney.“ He gives the detective a quick hug - a gesture so out of character for him, he’s even surprised with himself. Newfound freedom can really change a person drastically. And he’s willing to take any and all opportunities to make up for the time he lost.

“Take care of yourself, Johnny. And of Y/N, though I think it’ll be the other way around.“ She chuckles, giving him a pat on the shoulder as they pull away.

“I will, a free man’s word.“

And a free man he’s become with the very first step he takes out of the station and into the world he hasn’t been a part of for what feels like centuries. He’s already crossed off one plan of his long list and with each step he takes closer to the destination he has in mind he’s slowly crossing off the second one as well.

Never did he think he’d be capable of feeling something like that cheesy feeling described as stomach butterflies but here he is, his stomach turning, his heart pounding, his hands fidgeting. The journey to where he’s headed is simultaneously the longest and quickest of his life - an endless short road to a new beginning. The official beginning. The prologue was leaving the station, chapter one starts as soon as the apartment door with the number 12 on it opens.

And when it does, two shiny orbs shimmer at him in astonishment and disbelief. Mouth slightly agape, face a little pale, Y/N stands in front of him, mesmerizing as ever. He is absolutely stunned and frozen, overtaken by the same feeling he felt when Becky came to his cell to tell him he would soon be walking out of his cell, a new man.

The feeling of happiness so overwhelming it seems unreal. Too good to be true. Capable of slipping from your grip at any moment.

“Do you have a moment to talk about our Lord and Savior?“ Finn has the audacity to smirk, leaning slightly against the doorframe as he awaits Y/N’s reaction.

It comes a few seconds later in the form of a warm hug. A ‘welcome home’ hug. A ‘welcome back, I’ve missed you’ hug. An ‘I love you’ hug. A hug that speaks volumes of the connection between them. The connection that wasn’t broken even by five years of metal bars and stone walls between them, his death weighing heavy like a constant shadow above them.

“Oh Johnny, I can’t believe this.“ Y/N sniffles, he can tell he’s on the brink of tears, “I’m not dreaming, am I?“

Finn pulls away, leaving his hands gently on his shoulders, his forehead touching his, “You’re not, Y/N. From now on we won’t be dreaming of a future together, we’ll be making it.”

Y/N gives him a bright smile through his tears, the sun shining its rays at him through the clouds that have been haunting him all his life. He may not deserve him and he might deserve better, but hell if he doesn’t give him his all.

I’ll do better. I’ll be better for you, Y/N

That’s Jonathan Finn’s purpose - doing right by himself so he can do right by his loved one. Fate has been cruel to them both, but they have a whole life ahead.

Basically unlimited, He thinks to himself.

An unlimited forever up ahead just for the two of them.

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tsuki-chibi · 4 years

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Avengers Valentine’s Fic: Six Hands are Better than Two

Read it on AO3!

--------

When her cup of tea was ready, Pepper carried it over to the table and sat down. She took a careful, too-hot sip, then set her cup down and looked at the tablet sitting in front of her. This was it. The moment of truth. Despite of her nerves, her hands remained remarkably steady as she picked up the tablet and unlocked it. The first file opened seamlessly, and she scanned it with a critical eye.

She knew exactly what she was looking for. The biggest issue was finding it. The first few she dismissed out of hand due to various health problems. The fifth file showed a man with blond hair; she lingered over that one for a minute before flicking past, knowing that she would prefer someone with darker hair. The sixth was passed over for the same reason. Then she landed on the seventh, showing a striking man with dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a broad smile with straight, white teeth.

“Not him. Too much like a movie star.”

Pepper shrieked and jumped about a foot in the air. “Tony! What the hell?!”

Tony laughed as he sat down beside her, close enough to steal the tablet but out of range of any punches. “I asked JARVIS to tell me when you started looking at the profiles,” he said smugly. “I wanted to see too.”

“JARVIS, you traitor,” Pepper muttered without any heat.

“My apologies, Ms. Potts, but Sir was most persuasive.”

Knowing what that meant, Pepper shook her head. “Tony, you have got to stop threatening to sell them to MIT,” she said, exasperated. “One of these days JARVIS is going to take you seriously and have himself voluntarily moved, and then where will you be?”

“J loves me too much for that,” Tony said dismissively, continuing to flick through. “Is this really all you have to choose from? Slim pickings.”

Pepper sighed and rested her cheek on her hand. “Well, fewer men are donating sperm now,” she said frankly. “People are nervous about having biological children showing up on their doorstep in twenty years.” She could appreciate that fear, but it made this process no less frustrating.

When she had first decided that she wanted a baby, Pepper had thought long and hard about her choices. As an aromantic woman, she had absolutely zero interest in a relationship. She liked sex – was rather good at sex, actually – but that was about the extent of it. And no one night stand or frequent booty call was going to agree to have a baby with her without bringing feelings into the mix. Eventually they’d want more: they’d want a relationship, the whole 2.5 kids and white picket fence, and the thought made her skin crawl.

No romance. No relationships. Just a kid. That was harder to get than she had anticipated. She had done quite a bit of research into adoption, but every place she had reached out to had unapologetically informed her that they were reluctant to adopt a child to a single woman. She probably could’ve paved the way by throwing money at the situation, but she was loathe to do that when she’d already be facing a ton of media scrutiny as it was.

There was also surrogacy as an option, but Pepper was more than willing to carry the baby herself. It was Rhodey who had suggested that she go to a donation clinic. Pepper hadn’t seen any harm in looking to see what was available; she wasn’t committing herself just by looking. But she hadn’t anticipated how lackluster it would be. Did she really want to choose the father of her child like she’d pick out a pair of shoes?

Well, no. Of course she didn’t. But she was running out of options – and time. She was turning thirty-five after this year, so she was approaching the threshold where pregnancies were a higher risk. She was already aware she was probably only going to do this once, so she had to make it count. This was the best resort. She held a hand out for the tablet back, but Tony shook his head.

“Seriously, Pep, you don’t have to go with one of these losers,” he said.

“Then how else am I supposed to make it happen? I am not interested in a relationship,” Pepper said, a bit more forcefully than was necessary considering who she was talking to, but she was so damn sick of having to repeat herself. People thought there was something wrong with a woman who didn’t want a relationship. There was a reason she and Tony had covered for each other for as long as they did.

“I know you’re not,” Tony said, far more kindly than she deserved, and Pepper’s shoulders slumped.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bite your head off,” she said. Out of everyone, Tony knew exactly what it was like to fall short of people’s expectations. He had cultivated a reputation as a slut early on to keep people from figuring out that the infamous Tony Stark had no interest in sex: he would bring drunk women home with him and then put them to bed. Anyone who remembered going to bed alone never wanted to admit that Tony hadn’t slept with them, so they’d make up stories. And she was pretty sure the sex tapes had been faked.

After Afghanistan, when Tony could no longer bear the idea of bringing strangers home, he and Pepper had officially become a couple to give them both some relief. Unofficially Pepper had cultivated a few discreet fuck buddies, while Tony had been content to remain alone. Their agreement had worked very well to keep them both from being bothered by the media, or worse hunted by prospective partners, until Tony met Dr. Stephen Strange.

Pepper had seen the writing on the wall from the moment they returned home from the fight on Titan, having been victorious. Stephen looked at Tony like Tony was something precious, and Tony’s eyes lit up whenever Stephen walked into a room. Naturally, the two of them had awkwardly danced around each other for a few months before Pepper got impatient and forced them to talk it out.

“That’s okay. I get it. Hell, no one gets it better than me,” Tony said. He set the tablet down and looked at her seriously. “What if I offered to do it?”

Her eyebrows jumped. “You’re gonna have sex with me. You.”

“Eww, no,” Tony said, making a face. “But I’d happily donate some of my sperm to the cause. Stephen says that the whole process is way more advanced than it used to be, but that there’s plenty of room for improvement… maybe he and I will take a look at it and see if we can’t figure something out.”

“If anyone could do it, it would be you too,” Pepper said, still reeling from the offer. “You… you’d seriously want a baby?”

“I’ve been thinking about it. I know you and I didn’t work out, but I still think any kid of ours would be awesome.” Tony gave a small smile that quickly faded as he added, “I mean, I understand if you don’t want to. I’ll probably end up being a shitty dad –”

“Tony, no. That’s not it. Anyone who sees you with Peter knows you’re a wonderful dad,” Pepper said immediately.

“It’s not really the same,” Tony mumbled, looking embarrassed.

“Yes, it is and you know it. He literally calls you and Stephen ‘dad’,” Pepper pointed out.

“But we didn’t raise him,” Tony said. He shook his head. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that the offer is there if you’re interested.”

Pepper hummed softly. “What did Stephen say?”

“He’s okay with it. You can talk to him about it if you want to, which you probably should.”

“He’s ready to be a parent?” Pepper asked. “Or are you just looking to make a donation and that’s all?”

“No, we want to be parents with you. Midnight feedings and all. You could move into a room on our floor, and we can set the baby up in the room between us and you. That way, we can help equally. And you’d still be able to go back to your floor when you needed a break,” Tony explained, sounding adorably eager.

“You’re really serious about this,” Pepper said, amazed. At one time, Tony hadn’t been sure that he wanted to be a father at all. That was all Howard Stark’s influence as far as Pepper was concerned. She knew that Tony would be a great dad, but Tony was petrified that he was going to turn out like his father. Having Peter around had done wonders for Tony’s confidence in that regard.

“I am… but only if you’re okay with it. I get that it could be awkward or uncomfortable,” Tony said. “I mean… Stephen and I would still be Avengers and everything.” He looked up uncertainly.

“Let me think about it,” Pepper said slowly. “Is that okay?”

“Sure. Take all the time you need.” He stood up, passed her the tablet, and ambled causally out of the room. Only someone who knew him well, like Pepper did, could recognize how tense he was as he went. He really, really wanted this, she realized.

“JARVIS, have Tony and Stephen really talked about this?” Pepper asked.

“Yes, Ms. Potts. In great detail,” JARVIS replied. “Dr. Strange has just arrived home. Would you like to speak with him?”

“Please,” Pepper said. She believed Tony when he said that Stephen was okay with this, but she wanted to be sure before she even started considering this. She didn’t want a baby to be the thing that came between Tony and the only person he’d ever seriously fallen in love with.

It was only a few minutes before Stephen joined her in the kitchen. He was wearing his uniform, minus the Cloak, and looked tired. Pepper waved him to the table and got up to make herself another cup of tea. She also poured one for Stephen. Unlike Tony, who might as well have had coffee in his veins considering how much of the stuff he drank, Stephen preferred tea. When she turned around, Stephen had picked up the tablet and was flipping through the profiles. Pepper rolled her eyes.

“See anyone interesting?” she asked, sitting again.

“I see some people who may have lied on their applications,” Stephen said critically, stopping at one profile and frowning down at it. “Besides, I believe the more important question is whether you’ve seen anyone interesting.”

“I didn’t get very far before Tony interrupted me,” she admitted. “He had a proposition.”

Stephen didn’t look surprised. “He mentioned he was planning to bring it up today. What did you think?”

“I’m not opposed to the idea,” Pepper said carefully. In truth, it was the best option she’d heard yet. “But I wanted to see what you thought. This isn’t just between me and Tony. I know Tony; he’ll want to be there 100%. And that effectively makes you a father too.”

“It does,” Stephen agreed, his blank expression giving nothing away.

“So… are you okay with that?” Pepper said. “Is that something you want? If it’s not, now is the time to say it.”

“I never imagined I would have a child,” Stephen told her. His hands shook as he lifted his cup. “Particularly after the accident. I lost all interest in sex after that, and a couple of the medications that I’m on would make it difficult for me to get someone pregnant.”

Pepper nodded, having already known this. Tony had told her in confidence after she professed worry over how the two of them would get on, what with Tony’s complete lack of interest in sex. Stephen wasn’t asexual, or at least he didn’t claim the label for himself, but based on what Tony said he was pretty adamant about never wanting to have sex. Luckily, that suited Tony perfectly fine.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m not intrigued by the idea. I like having Peter around. I like seeing the joy that Peter’s presence brings to both Tony and myself. I would very much enjoy raising a child. We’ve talked about adoption, but then when you started looking into donations, Tony suggested this could be a convenient solution for all of us.” Stephen hesitated briefly. “My one concern is that I’m not sure how much help I would be at first. My hands…” He trailed off, grimacing.

“It’s fine,” Pepper said gently. “Tony and I will be there. Hell, there are plenty of people in the tower to help. And trust me, there is still plenty you could do.”

“So you’re considering it?” he asked.

“Well… yes, I am. Some people might think it’s crazy… my mom sure will. But I really want a baby, and I like the idea of my child being a part of someone I know and love,” she said. “Even better if it’s Tony, because I know him so well. Plus, Tony brings you to the table as well. The idea of three parents instead of being a single mom sweetens the pot significantly.” She smiled to show that she was teasing, even though she was partially serious.

Stephen smiled too. “Give it some thought. You don’t need to decide right away.” He sat back, rubbing his neck. “JARVIS, where is Tony?”

“Sir is in the workshop.”

Pepper and Stephen exchanged exasperated looks, and then Stephen stood up. “I better go get him out of there, or he’ll pull another all-nighter.”

“Please do,” Pepper said, standing up herself. She picked up her tablet as Stephen left, and did a quick pass through all of the profiles. Some of them sounded impressive, but… she cast a thoughtful look at the door and hummed under her breath as she washed her cup out and set it in the dishwasher.

She did a lot of thinking over the next couple of days. She talked to Rhodey, who was very much in support of the idea, and she talked to her mother, who was very much not. And she also spent some time looking seriously at the files that the agency had given her, trying to decide who she might pick if she decided not to take Tony up on his offer. The problem was, Stephen’s skepticism had made her nervous. After all, she was trusting that complete strangers were who they said they were, and Pepper had been burned that way before in far less high-stakes situations.

There was always the option of asking JARVIS to run background checks, but honestly Pepper wasn’t sure she wanted JARVIS to bother wasting the processing power. Not when, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she had never wanted to be a single mother. It was just the only avenue that she felt was open to her, and she wanted a baby badly enough to accept the cons.

But why do so when she didn’t have to?

It was late at night when Pepper crawled out of bed and padded, bare foot, to the elevator. JARVIS took her down to the common room floor, where she knew that some of the Avengers had been having a late night watching movies. As expected, everyone else was gone and Stephen and Tony were alone in the room, cuddled up on the couch: the two of them had a bad habit of falling asleep there and then regretting it the next day.

Pepper paused for a moment in the doorway, staring at the two of them with a smile. Stephen was laying on the couch itself on his back, bare feet stick out from beneath the blanket. Tony was laying half on top of him and half on the couch, mostly buried beneath the blanket. They made for an adorable sight, one that made her heart swell with happiness on Tony’s behalf.

This was all that Tony had ever wanted. This, right here. Or so she had thought. But maybe there was something else that Tony wanted too, which Pepper had never considered before. Being asexual and not wanting to have sex meant that there was a very obvious obstacle in the way of Tony having kids, but even more than that Tony had to be extremely careful about who he had a child with. Way too many people would take total advantage of him if it meant getting their greedy hands into the Stark fortune.

She didn’t need to take advantage; Tony would gladly hand her his entire fortune without blinking an eye. Hell, in a way he already had by making Pepper the CEO of Stark Industries. Technically, if she had been so inclined, Pepper could’ve overthrown Tony and forced him out of his own company. Thankfully for Tony, she had absolutely no intention of doing that. S.I. would die without Tony’s genius guiding the way, which was something that men like Obadiah Stane were too stupid to realize.

She padded over to the couch and sat down on Tony’s side. Stephen awoke first, blinking owlishly. “Something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Pepper said. She patted Tony’s knee.

“Huh – wha?” Tony was slower to stir. “Pep?”

“I wanted to see if your offer was still open,” Pepper said.

Tony snapped to immediately. “Of course it is!”

“Good. Because I think I want to take you up on it,” she said.

“Seriously?” Tony said.

“Seriously.”

“Oh my god,” Stephen said. “You’re going to have a baby.”

Pepper wasn’t sure who he was talking to, but she shook her head. “No. We’re” she gestured between the three of them “are having a baby.”

The resulting brilliant smiles that lit up both Tony’s and Stephen’s face made her feel warm from head to toe, and she knew immediately that she’d made the right decision. She beamed as Tony and Stephen kissed with joy, and then Tony pushed himself up and threw his arms around her. Pepper hugged him back happily, returning Stephen’s smile over Tony’s shoulder.

They were really gonna do this, and she knew that three of them would do it right.

#avengers #pepper potts #tony stark #stephen strange #ironstrange #aromantic pepper potts #asexual tony stark

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ineffably-effable · 3 years

Text

Honey Trapped (aziraphale/crowley crack!fic, 1.6k words)

Summary:

What happens when @racketghost makes a film reference that goes completely over my head, and I’m left pondering the question of how Crowley might come to believe himself a bee.

Notes:

Unbeated. All mistakes are my own.

(Link to ao3)

Slight warnings for some platonic, non-consensual cuddling from someone not currently in their right mind.

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

4 months after the narrowly averted armageddon.

2 weeks and 6 days after Aziraphale and Crowley moved into a charming cottage in The South Downs.

2 weeks, 5 days and 10 hours after a comical series of misunderstandings left them both under the impression the other was only comfortable with platonic cohabitation.

Shortly before Elevenses.

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

Aziraphale was a creature of habit.

Every Sunday he made his way into town to pick up pastries to go with his morning tea. This particular morning was no exception. Shortly after breakfast he had left Crowley to his gardening and set off to visit the local bakery.

All in all, he’d been gone less than an hour.

Certainly, he thought to himself, not enough time to excuse (or explain) Crowley standing in their front yard - wings out for all the world to see - rubbing his face into a sunflower.

“Crowley?”

Aziraphale called out to him more out of habit than out of an expectation he would reply. Although unlikely, he supposed it might be possible Crowley was trying out some new unconventional method of gardening.

That particular hope evaporated when the demon looked up and stared at him with an entranced expression on his face, sclera blown wide and orange pollen clinging to his skin.

“Are you- ah” Aziraphale took a few cautious steps forward, a little unnerved by the vacant stare, “Are you feeling well, dear?”.

Crowley tilted his head to the side, but otherwise only stared unblinkingly back at him.

As Aziraphale drew nearer, he noticed Crowley’s nose start twitching. The demon had flicked his tongue out and was alternating between sniffing and tasting the air. In a flurry of movement he spread his wings and beat them with such unnatural speed they emitted a low pitched buzzing sound. Before Aziraphale could react, Crowley flew straight at him. In a matter of seconds he had wrapped his arms around the angel’s shoulders and pulled him in close, effectively pinning Aziraphale’s arms to his sides as he pressed their bodies together. (Blessedly, Aziraphale managed to hang on to the pastries - but it was a close thing). The more the angel attempted to extract himself, the more Crowley tightened his grip. In fact, as if encouraged by the movement, he nuzzled Aziraphale’s neck and started lapping with his tongue all over Aziraphale’s face. When Aziraphale flinched, Crowley took advantage of the angel’s shocked gasp to start licking directly into his mouth.

This act proved a bridge too far for Aziraphale. He recoiled, wrinkling his nose at the sickly sweet taste of pollen, and exerted a small amount of angelic strength to push Crowley away.

Unperturbed, the demon flew back across the yard, ostensibly in search of a new flower to harvest.

Well, thought Aziraphale. That was a thing.

He watched as Crowley selected a new flower, favouring one large enough that he could start tonguing it enthusiastically.

"Hullo Mr. Fell." A familiar voice called out. Looking past Crowley, Aziraphale noticed a bemused adversary waving to him from the swing on their front porch, his diminutive hell hound on his lap.

"Adam!" Aziraphale greeted, faking a composure he didn’t feel as he miracled the pollen from his face and his disheveled clothing to its previous state. "I don’t suppose you happen to know what's gotten into Crowley?"

Adam grinned.

“He bet me I couldn’t hypnotize him.”

Aziraphale resolved never to leave Crowley without supervision again.

“So now he believes himself to be a... bee?” Aziraphale guessed (taking into consideration of the demon’s recent affinity for flowers and buzzing).

“Yep.”

When no further information appeared forthcoming Aziraphale voiced the obvious question:

“Why?”

“Bees are great. Pepper’s mums keep a hive and- ”

Recognizing a tangent when he heard one, Aziraphale nipped it in the bud.

“Sorry, dear boy, I meant why were you discussing hypnotism?”

“Brian’s Dad is trying to quit smoking and the doctor suggested hypnotherapy,” Adam said quickly, in a way that suggested this was not his first time telling this particular story, “but his Dad fell asleep during the session so Brian asked if I’d give it a shot. Pepper and Wensleydale thought I should see if Mr. Crowley could teach me how.”

Aziraphale blinked.

“Adam,” he began, “Surely you realize it would be wrong to coerce someone?”

‘‘Yeah, but Brian’s dad wanted to try it.” he insisted, “We told him my godfather was a magician and he was going to teach me how.”

“You told him Crowley was a magician?”

“He looks the part. ‘Just needs a spot of eyeliner, that one’ Mum said - ”

(Aziraphale possessed enough self-awareness that he recognized how ridiculous it was to be offended by that. He also recognized now was not the ideal time to engage in a conversation about how a spot of eyeliner did not a magician make.)

“- so I popped over here to chat to Mr. Crowley and he said I probably wouldn’t be able to do it because it’s more of a snake demon trick than an occult trick.”

“I see.”

“That’s when I bet him that I could.”

“Right.”

Crowley chose that moment to repeat his trek back over to Aziraphale who, now wise to what he was after, was able to narrowly avoid being pounced on before shooing him back off towards the flowers. Adam did a very poor job of hiding his amusement, but wisely kept his mouth shut as Aziraphale turned back to him.

“Do you have any idea why he seems quite so insistent on licking me?"

Adam snorted and concealed it poorly with a cough.

"Well, Pep’s ma said the worker bees swarm around their queen? They sniff her out so they can feed and protect her.”

"Oh."

Adam grinned but otherwise ignored him.

"He’s always around you, so seems reasonable he’d think you were important?"

A little distance away, Crowley hummed in displeasure as the flower he was nuzzling collapsed. Aziraphale performed a quick miracle to enlarge one of the nearby violets to keep him occupied.

"Is there any particular reason you haven’t restored him yet?"

“Nah, just waiting for you to get back."

"Me?"

"Crowley suggested that I should wait for you if anything happened. I think he was worried about stinging me or something." Adam rolled his eyes. He stood up and walked down the steps, Dog at his heels. "You want me to do it now then?"

"Yes please."

"Sure."

Adam waved a hand and suddenly Crowley was coughing and spluttering, wiping his tongue clean on the inside of his shirt.

"What in the ever loving fuck?"

"Back with us, dear?" Azirpaphale asked sweetly.

"Angel what the sodding hell is going on? Everything smells like flowers-" he felt along his face, "- I'm sticky. Why am I sticky?"

Adam glanced sidelong at Aziraphale.

"Adam, what are you doing here?"

"Just visiting, thanks for the help Mr. Crowley!"

"Help with-?" Crowley’s face fell. “-don’t tell me you got it on your first try,” he growled.

Aziraphale feigned a sudden interest in his hands.

"Thanks for the chat Mr. Fell."

"Anytime dear, you're always welcome. Did you want a croissant before you go?"

Adam grabbed one from the proffered bag. He made a “cheers” gesture before biting into it and promptly vanishing (along with Dog).

"Angel?"

When Aziraphale turned Crowley was standing only a few paces away from him, looking stricken but considerably less orange.

"Yes dear?"

"Please tell me I didn't stick my tongue down your throat."

"Well, that's a little hyperbolic-" he began consolingly, "- I mean, even with your tongue the length it is, you could barely reach my tonsils."

When he finally looked up Crowley was starting at him in horror.

Stung, and not caring to conceal it, Aziraphale turned for the cottage. "Well, no harm done then. Let’s get you a cup of tea."

"I’m sorry angel, I’d have never done that if I was-”

"Never?" Aziraphale asked, somewhat sharper than intended.

Crowley blinked.

"Not on purpose!"

"That inspires confidence."

"Aziraphale."

"No? Would you prefer coffee? The croissants are fresh, maybe some human food would do you good after all the pollen you’ve ingested-"

"Aziraphale." When he turned, Crowley was regarding him with a bemused look.

“Yes?’

"Was it any good?"

Aziraphale didn’t quite manage to avoid cringing.

"It was rather like being licked in the mouth by an enthusiastic puppy,” he quipped. “Not much finesse I'm afraid.”

Crowley shook his head. He rubbed a hand over his face, and pulled slightly on his earlobe while not quite making eye-contact.

"Well apologies if my technique was subpar, there was the slight impediment of believing I was a bee." Crowley responded waspishly.

"Of course, dear." he gestured back towards the cottage, “Shall we?”

"Seems like it's only fair I should get the opportunity to defend my honor." he offered a little too casually.

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows.

"Consider it a professional courtesy. I'm the original tempter and you've impugned my abilities."

"Indeed," Aziraphale played along, pursing his lips to keep back a smile "In the face of such unassailable logic who am I to disagree?"

"Right." Crowley said. He walked up to Aziraphale, nodded, and tilted his head. "Right," he repeated. Moving swiftly, he snaked an arm around Aziraphale's shoulder and brought his hand up to cradle the angel's cheek as he leaned in. The kiss was forceful but chaste. When Crowley made to pull back Aziraphale darted forward and gently nipped his bottom lip. That, plus a completely unsubtle pout, soon had the demon kissing him back in earnest.

By the time they parted Crowley looked exceedingly pleased with himself.

"Well?"

"Overall?” Aziraphale smirked, “A considerable improvement."

"Excuse me."

"It’s only fair I deduct some points for the overwhelming taste of pollen."

"Angel?"

"Yes dear?"

"Buzz off."

#is it not enough to write fic #must it also be good?#I'd apologize but you were fairly warned #my writing

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notalwaysthevillian · 4 years

Text

Parent Trapped

Warnings: Feeling stupid

Pairings: Eventual Romantic Remile, platonic LAMP

Word Count: ~2.5k

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Masterlist

Chapter 5: The F

After their sleepover, the tight knit group of friends grew even closer.

But they still didn’t tell each other everything. None of them knew that Patton was starting to struggle with his grades. He had an A in ASL, but his other grades were slowly starting to slip.

“Is there something going on at home?” Mrs. Calypso asked after she’d pulled him aside after school one day. “If it’s about the move, that’s okay. Transitioning to a new place can take a long time.”

“I don’t think that’s it.” Patton said, eyes glued to the ground as he struggled not to cry. “I just...I’m not understanding.”

“Why don’t you talk to Principal Sanders?” She asked, crouching just enough to see Patton’s eyes. “He can get you a tutor.”

Patton shoved his glasses up in his hair so he could wipe his eyes. “I don’t need a tutor.”

“If you want, I can try to explain a few concepts after school tomorrow.” She offered. “Think about it, okay?”

As soon as Mrs. Calypso was gone, Virgil rushed over. “Is everything alright?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Patton said, voice trembling ever so slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Virgil opened his arms and Patton dove into them, squeezing him tightly. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

There was only a moment’s hesitation before Patton blurted out, “I’m not doing very well in class. I don’t understand what the teachers are talking about half the time and it’s hard for me to learn from just the Powerpoints.”

“Maybe I can help?” Virgil asked, waving at their dad as he pulled up.

“We can try.”

Once they’d gotten home and had a quick snack, the two of them jumped into their homework. Virgil did his best to explain the concepts, but Patton wasn’t understanding them at all. Emile jumped in to help as well, but he just made it worse.

“I don’t get it!” Patton shoved back from the kitchen table, darting up to his room and closing the door.

Emile and Virgil could hear his sobs carry down the stairs.

Neither of them saw Patton again until the next morning when he came downstairs for breakfast. He looked a little more like Virgil this morning with the dark circles under his eyes. Virgil covered them with black eyeshadow so he could call it fashion, but Patton didn’t seem to care.

“Pat, are you okay?” Virgil asked, handing his brother a plate.

Patton took the plate, setting it off to the side. “I’m not hungry.”

“Just take some food with you then, in case you get hungry later.” Emile started packing up some tupperware.

Patton nodded, the usual pep in his step completely gone. By the time they arrived at school, he had a fake smile on his face.

“Bye.”

“Have a good day!” Emile called, just getting the sentence out of his mouth before Patton’s door closed.

Virgil scrambled to catch up to Patton, who was heading straight for his locker. “I can talk to Mrs. Calypso if you want.”

“She already offered to help.” Unzipping his backpack, Patton started placing books in his locker. “I’m gonna take her up on it and stay after school. Is that okay?”

“Pat, it’s fine.” Virgil bumped their shoulders together. “I’m going straight home anyway.”

Giving his twin a nod, Patton headed off to class. Virgil put the rest of his stuff in his locker, jumping when someone practically appeared next to him.

“What’s wrong with Patton?” Ted asked as he leaned against the lockers. “He just seems...off.”

“Bad day.”

“Gotcha.” A few kids down the hall called Ted’s name. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll let my mom know that Patton’s having a hard time. She’ll be over later with muffins or something.”

“Thanks, man.”

“No prob. Besides, what are neighbors for if not to be nosy?”

Ted left to be with his friends. Virgil grabbed what he needed, before heading to science. He debated talking to Mrs. Calypso about Patton’s problem, but he knew that Patton would want to talk to her himself.

Instead, he took his seat next to Logan and pulled out their homework.

“I saw you arrive this morning.” Logan tapped his pencil on the table. “Patton looked upset.”

“There’s a whole thing.” Virgil started scribbling down a few notes on the board. “If he wants to tell you about it at lunch he can.”

Virgil was beyond thankful that Logan let the matter drop. Part of it was due to the fact that the bell rang and class started, but Logan seemed like the type to let things be. He could only hope that Roman was the same way.

He quickly found out at lunch that he was wrong.

“Pat, are you okay?” Roman asked the second he sat down, making Virgil and Logan exchange looks. “You looked really upset this morning.”

Patton seemed to sense that Virgil was about to fix Roman with a glare. He waved Virgil down, shaking his head. “I’ve just been...struggling a bit. Academically.”

Logan’s eyes snapped up. “I could assist you if you’d like.”

“Lo, that’s nice but I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You don’t have to ask.” Logan stuck a bookmark in his book and set it down. “We’re friends. Why wouldn’t I want to help you achieve academic prowess?”

“Have you been reading the dictionary again?”

There was a thunk as Logan kicked his brother under the table. “I can help you tonight if you want.”

“Sure!”

Virgil was a little more than relieved to see a little of Patton’s pep return. “I thought you were staying after with Mrs. Calypso?”

Patton shrugged, twirling some pasta around his fork. “I think I’d understand it more coming from a fellow student. But I’ll let her know before I head to gym.”

When the final bell had rung, Patton headed outside, looking for Logan. His red hair stood out like a beacon in the sea of students rushing to head home.

“Where’s Roman?”

“Heading to a friend’s house.” Logan toward the line of cars. “My dad’s here.”

Mr. Sanders waved from his convertible, shades on his face. The boys jumped in the car, buckling up immediately.

Patton just stopped himself from letting out a shriek as Mr. Sanders peeled off from the line of cars, earning a few honks in the process. He ignored them, stretching one arm above his head.

“How was school?” He asked, sounding too nonchalant for someone who was weaving their way through traffic.

“I received an A on my paper for English.”

“Knew you would.” Though he couldn’t see Mr. Sanders’s eyes, he could feel the gaze moving to him. “Pat? What about you?”

“Okay, I guess.” Patton ran a finger along his seatbelt. “My ASL teacher says I’ve been improving a lot.”

Remy smiled at Patton in the mirror. “That’s great! Gotta celebrate the little accomplishments as much as the big ones.”

They got home much faster than they should’ve, heading in through the garage. Remy left them to their devices, heading into the living room.

Logan headed to the fridge immediately, pulling out some apples and a fruit dip. “Snack first. It’s harder to do homework if you’re hungry. I did a small study on that, using Roman as a subject.”

“Did he know you were doing that?” Patton grabbed a spoon out of the drawer and started spooning some dip onto a couple paper plates.

“...no.”

“Logan!”

“It was a small experiment!”

Patton shook his head, giving him what everyone had dubbed his ‘Dad Look’. “Consent is important for a lot of things. One thing being experiments.”

“You’re right.” Logan scraped a few apple slices onto Patton’s plate. “I’ll inform him about any future experiments that involve him.”

“And?”

“And I’ll let him know about the past experiments I’ve used him for.” Logan swirled an apple in the fruit dip before taking a bite. “This dip is so freaking good.”

“I’ve got a homemade one that tastes even better.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “You’re making that next time you come over.”

“Deal.” Patton reached into his backpack, pulling out his science textbook. “So I just can’t understand the nervous system or how the brain works.”

Taking their plates, Logan tossed them in the garbage. “Let’s get to work.”

The two of them worked hard for the next hour.

Unfortunately, Patton still wasn’t understanding, and Logan was starting to get frustrated.

“It’s simple, really.” Logan said at the end of another long explanation.

Patton bit his lip. “I still don’t get it.”

“Why don’t we take a break?”

Logan did his best to not let his frustration show, but Patton could see it clear as day.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice cracked on the words. Logan looked at him, eyes wide. Before he could say anything, the front door opened and Roman entered.

“Oh, hey Pa- what’s wrong?”

Tears slipped out of Patton’s eyes. “I don’t get what we’re doing still, and I know Logan’s frustrated that he can’t help me, and I just...I don’t wanna fail.”

“I could show you how I figured it out.”

Logan face palmed. “How did I not think of that before? You and Roman are much more like minded. I’m sure he’ll be able to explain everything in a way that makes sense to you.”

Seeing how apprehensive was, Roman swooped in next to him. “Let me try at least? And if you don’t get it, I’ll come with you to talk to Mrs. Calypso.”

“Okay.”

Roman was a much more suitable teacher to Patton than Logan had been. He knew that while Logan and Virgil tended to think more logically, he and Patton thought more creatively.

“The dendrites?” Roman asked an hour later, quizzing Patton on what he’d learned.

Patton wiggled his fingers, remembering what Roman had told him. “Branches of the nerve cells. They give messages to the cell body.”

“Correct!”

After writing down the answer on his worksheet, Patton grinned at Roman. “Thank you so much!”

“There’s the smile we know and love.” Roman smiled back, suddenly finding himself with an armful of Patton. “You staying for dinner?”

“I could, let me text my dad.”

“No worries, he already said it was okay.” Mr. Sanders said as he walked into the kitchen. “We’re making sandwiches tonight, but I have peanut butter and jelly if you’d prefer that.”

“I’m good with whatever.”

Patton gathered his schoolwork. He put it away while the Sanders started pulling various ingredients out of the fridge. There was crinkling as Roman popped open a bag of chips.

“Where’s your brother tonight?” Mr. Sanders asked, slicing open some rolls.

“At home with dad.”

Mr. Sanders pulled out his phone. “Emile! Why don’t you come over and have dinner with us again. We’ve already got a third of your family anyway. We’re having club sandwiches.”

Patton couldn’t make out what his dad was saying on the other end, but it must’ve been agreement.

“They’ll be here in just a little bit.” Mr. Sanders slid his phone back into his pocket. “Pat, are you good at slicing?”

“I’ll do it!” Roman said quickly, taking the knife from his dad.

“Roman, that was rude.”

Patton laughed. “Roman’s seen me in gym class. It’s probably safer that he does it.”

“You’ve gotten a lot better though.” Roman effortly sliced through the tomato as he spoke. “When you first got here, you were...not hopeless but it took some work.And now you’re one of the best in the class. A little hard work goes a long way.”

“Well, I think this calls for a celebration.” Remy said.

The Sanders boys snapped their heads up. “Sundaes?!”

“Sundaes.”

A cheer rang out from everyone, including Patton. He didn’t know what was so special about sundaes, but he loved ice cream.

It wasn’t long before Emile was over with Virgil in tow. Or rather, Virgil with Emile in tow. Virgil ran straight into the house, talking to Roman about a new Disney movie that had been announced in the last hour.

Emile was a little slower, still unsure about Remy.

“You know, Roman helped Patton figure out what was troubling him.” Remy said as he came over to help Emile with his jacket.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Emile handed over his jacket, lining up his shoes in the hall. “Patton fretted over that all night. Virgil and I did our best to help.”

“So you were hanging over their shoulders?”

Emile sighed. “Remy -”

“Please, let me explain.” Receiving a nod from Emile, Remy continued. “I know that you’re more of a hover-y parent and I’m more of a give them space parent. I think we have a lot to learn from each other. One example being that you should’ve let them try to figure it out on their own. Patton probably felt a lot of pressure to figure it out knowing that you were in the room.”

Emile opened his mouth to respond before closing it with a click.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes.” Emile ran a hand through his hair. “And you’re right about us learning from each other. Though that goes both ways.”

“Yes, sir.” Remy teased before they both headed back into the kitchen.

The boys grabbed their food and headed to the living room, sitting around the coffee table.

“About time our dads got along.” Roman said, taking a huge bite of his sandwich.

Patton nodded. “All of us are different, but we figured it out.”

“Ya.” Getting a look from Logan, Roman swallowed his food before he continued. “Virgil and I are super opposite. If you hadn’t played mediator at first Pat, we probably would’ve been fighting this whole time.”

Virgil nodded. “True that.”

Remy leaned out of the kitchen, peeking in on the boys. “I’m glad they found each other. For a while I was worried that Logan was never going to have any friends besides Roman.”

“Virgil said that Logan is a big help.” Emile leaned against the counter. “He told me that Logan did a bunch of research on anxiety disorders so that he knew what to do if Virgil had an attack.”

“Oh yeah, he was letting me and Roman know what to do too. Kid’s a natural born teacher.”

Emile crunched down on a chip. “You listened?”

“Hey! I know I seem like an asshole, but that’s only sometimes.” Remy grabbed a few glasses out of the cupboard. “Want anything?”

“Water’s fine.”

The ice clinked into their cups. “I figured if your kid is going to be over a lot that I should know what to do too. In case he stays back when Roman wants to head to the park or something.”

“That’s...really nice of you.” Emile took his glass. “Thanks. A lot of parents in our old PTA didn’t seem to care that Virgil had anxiety.”

There was a flash of anger in Remy’s eyes. “Well that’s shitty of them.”

“Yeah.” Emile excused the swearing this one time. “It is.”

#platonic moxiety #platonic logince #platonic lamp #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #ts sleep #remy sanders #emile picani #parent trapped

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