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say-al0e · 2 years

Text

See You When I See You

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary: Your relationship with Ben was unconventional, at best. Stolen moments, scattered here and there, were all you could have. Still, that didn't stop either of you from wishing for more. Your next meeting wasn’t guaranteed so you made the most of what time you were given. | Ft. “Is that a gun in your pocket or are you happy to see me?” + “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Warnings: Unprotected p in v, yearning, pining, semi-forbidden love, mentions of war (set when the guys are active duty), inaccurate military/war references, unrealistic setting, sad Benny (yes that’s a warning).

Pairing: Benny Miller x fem!Reader (described as shorter than Benny)

Word Count: 8.7k (it’s Benny, what do you expect?)

General Masterlist | General Taglist | Shameless Plug: Cowboy!Benny Masterlist

A/N: Listen to Jason Aldean’s ‘See You When I See You’ - that’s the vibe for this fic.

As many times as you’d been dropped in the middle of the desert, left to accomplish one task or another, the harsh sun never seemed any less jarring. It beat down onto your skin, seared the few bits of exposed flesh, and stung at the backs of your eyes as you glanced out at the base you’d grown far too familiar with.

The ache in your chest, the twist in your stomach, the tingling in the tips of your fingers - it all grew more intense, nauseating, the closer you drew to the set of soldiers stood ready to greet you. Despite that, however, you tried your best to school your features into a practiced look of neutrality as you climbed out of the jeep after a man who easily outranked everyone in the vicinity.

Though you’d been here before, spent more time here than you ever imagined you would, you never bothered to remember the names of the men in charge. It didn’t matter, they were redacted in your reports, anyway. Still, your companions - ever eager to busy themselves with pomp - puffed their chests and straightened their shoulders while you lingered behind them in the hope that you would remain unnoticed.

Immediately, they launched into an exchange of greetings - shook hands and dispensed surface-level pleasantries that you had no desire to return - while you found yourself scanning the area for any familiar faces. Even for a group of military men, it was early. Most of the men were either in the mess tent, scarfing down breakfast, or still preparing for the day but enough of them wandered around for you to remain hopeful.

Almost as if he’d been summoned by your thoughts, a familiar face adorned with salt and pepper stubble appeared in your field of vision. Warm brown eyes met yours, twinkling with an easy amusement you would readily admit you’d missed, and beckoned you away form your travel companions.

Some of the heaviness in your chest dissipated as you stepped closer to Santiago. The exhaustion you felt - a bone-deep weariness that came with traveling, with picking up the pieces and moving from one place to the next; again and again and again - was nearly forgotten as he whistled lowly and raised a brow at you.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” His expression shifted then, morphed in an exaggerated looking of straight-faced stoicism he’d been conditioned into wearing, as he took a moment to study you. You laughed, ice melting in your veins, and he broke. You warmed all over at the sight of his smile and tipped your head as he laughed. “Sunshine,” he greeted, lips curling into a shit-eating grin, “didn’t expect you back so soon. Thought they shipped your ass back stateside.”

The nickname - a misogynistic declaration hurled at you by Tom, one that stuck and you hated - made your nose wrinkle. Santiago snickered and you latched onto that amusement, eager to avoid the conversation of where you’d been. When you rolled your eyes, he grinned and opened his arms for an embrace. The flash of annoyance you felt disappeared as quickly as it warmed your heated skin and you easily sank into his embrace.

Santiago squeezed you tight, just once, and released you with a smile that made your chest ache. He knew why you were there - what your presence meant for him, for his brothers - but he still looked so glad to see you. Regardless, there was an expectant look in his eyes, buried beneath the fondness, and you glanced away.

Your backstop was Fort Bragg, stationed somewhere in North Carolina, and as far as Santiago was concerned, that was where you’d been since he last saw you three months ago. So, you nodded. “They did,” you confirmed. “But…” A brief pause, one you spent wondering how best to answer him without giving yourself up, before you gestured to the group of men you traveled with. “Here I am, I guess.”

If anyone knew what it was like to be in your position - given one assignment today, forced into another tomorrow; never certain what the future held, other than danger - it was the Delta men, Santiago included. He cut his eyes at the group himself and, though he was better than most at masking his feelings, you could see the shadow that crossed his face as he studied them.

That was to be expected - it was what you were trained to do, after all - and he seemed to realize that you caught his apprehension the moment he turned back to you. He raised a brow, all business, and let a soft frown curl his lips. “I take it this isn’t a social call.”

A scoff escaped before you could stop it and Santiago laughed wryly. He knew the answer, just as well as you did, but that didn’t help ease the guilt settling in the pit of your stomach.

“Is it ever?” You spared a glance at the general, a man whose presence seemed to make Santiago bristle each time they so much as occupied the same continent, and shook your head. “Delta will be debriefed in the morning,” you admitted quietly, unable to look him in the eye as you did. “That’s all I can tell you.” You paused them, took a moment to consider your position, before you added, “And even that’s probably too much.”

Santiago’s jaw clenched as he bit his tongue to keep himself in check. You were a friend, someone he trusted, but the people you worked for saw him as disposable - a problem to be solved, just in case he got too comfortable - and he was reminded of that fact as a man you both recognized brushed past. He nodded his greeting and Santiago followed suit, though you could see the uneasy set to his shoulders as he waited for the man to move out of earshot.

“Shit.” He laughed, though it rang hollow in your ears, and scrubbed a hand across his face. “Homeland’s here. Why didn’t you tell me it was a party?”

There was nothing you could say that would make the moment any easier - no reply you could give that would reassure him, not when he knew how this worked; likely better than you did. You sighed, lapsed into an uneasy silence as you bit your tongue, and would’ve wandered away were it not for the chatter of a group of men departing the mess tent distracting you. You spared them a glance - searching subconsciously, never on purpose, for a familiar head of dirty blonde hair.

Hope blossomed warm in your chest as you scanned the faces but was quickly replaced with a wave of cool reality, crushing you as you realized the soldier you were seeking wasn’t there. You would’ve never missed him, just as he would’ve never missed you, and Santiago, who was more observant than you liked, scoffed when you deflated.

“Benny’s on patrol,” he informed you, gaze following the group as they set out to begin their day. You cut your eyes at him and this time, his laugh sounded far more genuine. “He’ll be back by the time you can slip away.”

A flash of embarrassment heated your skin as Santiago snickered. You hated how obvious you were, how easy it was for him to see right through you - to see how eager you were for just a glimpse of Ben Miller - but it did little to deter him as he rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t looking for Benny,” you declared, though it sounded half-hearted at best. A lie easily detected. Your eyes narrowed as you folded your arms over your chest. “Thanks for the update, though. Want to tell me where Fish and Will are, too?”

He made a noise, a hum of mock disappointment, and though it made your cheeks warm, you were glad to see the amusement twinkling in his eyes. “Not gonna ask about Tom, really try to sell it?” When you grimaced, unable to hide your disdain for the captain, Santiago laughed. “Yeah, alright. Keep lying to yourself, Sunshine. Maybe one day you’ll actually believe it.”

Santiago departed then, left without giving you a chance to respond, and shot you a wink and a grin over his shoulder. The look promised that news of your arrival would spread quickly and you heaved a heavy sigh as you took a moment to gather yourself.

A quick glance around reminded you of where you were, of what you were there to do. There was a job to be done, a fight to be won, and you couldn’t afford to be distracted - or be the distraction. Still, you could’t stop yourself from glancing over your shoulder, just to double check, as you trudged back to join the group.

Disappointment, bitter and crushing, filled your chest when there was no sight of Ben - despite the knowledge that he wouldn’t be there - so you tucked away your remaining hope, locked it tight in your chest just in case you never crossed paths.

That didn’t seem to matter much as the day passed in a blur of aching loneliness and yearning.

Most of your time was spent seated in an uncomfortable folding chair, arms crossed over your chest as you listened to men pick apart the same strategy you’d started seeing in your sleep. Your research was laid bare, files on each target held open on the table, and you tried your hardest to remain focused. Much of your job was done already - the hard part, anyway - but that mattered so little knowing you were that close to Ben. Knowing that he was only a few steps from where you sat, closer than he’d been in months, made it difficult to focus on anything else and the thought terrified you.

The power that he held over you made no sense - he managed to derail the meticulous planning you’d spent months on, distracted you from the mission you’d devoted countless sleepless nights to with little more than the promise of his presence - but you knew better than to give in to the flash of anger that warmed your chest.

You had so few moments with him, stolen away whenever you could get the chance, and you couldn’t bring yourself to spend even one of them angry.

By the time you were released, night had fallen and you’d cycled through the stages of denial a handful of times. You contributed little - though that was the norm for moments like this; too many of these men had a problem listening to you for you to waste your breath - and left first in search of Ben. You knew that you could find Santiago - or Frankie or Will - and one of them would tell you exactly where to find him. However, you’d gotten to know him well after the handful of visits you’d paid them and had an inkling of where he would be.

Just as you imagined you would, you found Ben in the small, makeshift gym with his hands taped and a song from a playlist you’d affectionately dubbed ‘trash rock’ masking the sound of his fists hitting the heavy bag. It had only been three months since the last time you saw him, far less time than usual, but you’d missed him - far more than you cared to admit.

There were a few more scars, a handful of bumps and bruises littering his skin, but little else had changed. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling as you watched him. He was beautiful, tall and solid and golden; he called you Sunshine - swore he meant it seriously, promised he saw you as bright and uplifting - but, if you were honest, he was the one who deserved the moniker.

Every opportunity you were given to observe him, to look at him without having to avert your eyes lest you draw too much attention, so many feelings hit you at once that you were left dizzy.

There was a softness, a fondness, a yearning for him that made your chest ache; you were close enough in age that you could’ve met organically, anywhere else in the world, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that you would’ve been something. Friends, lovers, soulmates; Ben would’ve been part of your life in some way that meant more than this, more than a handful of stolen moments and hushed encounters.

You wondered how he was when you were assigned elsewhere, when you made it back stateside for a handful of nights in your cold bed, and searched for updates even if you had little right - but a high enough security clearance - to do so. You missed him, missed his smile and face and playful passes of his hands across your skin.

Bitter regret, a stinging sadness that coated the back of your tongue and lingered heavy in your chest, made you wonder why you’d gotten yourself into this position in the first place. You weren’t supposed to be here - he should’ve never gotten close enough to know your name; sure as hell should never have gotten close enough to learn your taste - and there was no way for you to be anything more than your rushed, sporadic encounters.

Not here, not now.

Beneath that, though, a searing heat scorched all rational thought every time you saw him. He made your blood simmer with each sweep of his hungry eyes, set your skin alight with every press of his calloused fingers and brush of his usually otherwise occupied lips. He could make your knees weak without even trying and you found yourself chewing the inside of your cheek to keep from throwing yourself at him.

You sometimes wondered what it was about him that made you want to fall, barrel headfirst into the unknown with him and give a damn about the consequences later. Ben Miller made his way into your heart, buried himself deep, and seemed unwilling to move. But that was a dangerous line of thought.

Not here, not now; repeated until you believed it.

Ben knew you were there - you could tell the moment he stopped pulling his punches; started flexing his biceps, drawing attention to the corded muscle hidden beneath soft skin that always ran a few degrees too warm. Still, he gave you a few more moments of blissful observation.

He was generous in that way.

He wore a white t-shirt, soaked with sweat and easily showcasing the contours of his stomach. His shoulders shifted with every jab he threw, rolled beneath the fabric of his shirt and you had half a mind to whistle and jeer at him to take it off - he’d eat that up, grin as he stripped with an exaggerated wink - so you could see for yourself. His shorts, similar to your own, hung a little lower than they should have but you paid them little mind as you raked your eyes over his bare skin.

His presence never failed to set you on fire, dislodge your train of thought and send you barreling headfirst into a spiral of desire that could never be fully quenched, and he knew it, thrived off it.

“You just gonna stand there and stare like a creep or spar with me, Sunshine?”

It wouldn’t be the first time - and you always hoped it wouldn’t be the last - but, still, you scoffed at Ben’s playful taunt despite the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You’d changed into a pair of training shorts and a t-shirt before stepping out in search of him for this very reason; Ben was as predictable as he was impulsive and you were nothing if not indulgent.

You raised a brow at him as he turned, blue eyes blazing with a heat that threatened to blister you from the inside, and stepped further into the small space. “You really think you can take me, Miller? You’re bigger but I’m lighter on my feet.”

Ben stood a head taller than you, cut an imposing figure that made him a prime specimen in the eyes of his superiors, but he never intimidated you. If anything, his size - sheer strength, brute force you’d seen on more than one occasion - fanned the flames of attraction. He’d tossed you around, picked you up with startling ease despite your skepticism, and had no qualms about manhandling you - so long as you consented; something you freely gave every time. It never failed to make your blood sing, boil with unfettered want, and Ben knew it.

He smirked, eyes narrowing playfully as he stepped away from the bag, and held up his hands. “Bring it on.”

Every muscle in his body seemed to coil, tighten, as he waited for you to step closer. He was a trap, loaded and ready to snap the moment you struck, but that only made the game that much better. You both pulled your punches - he’d seen you really spar with another soldier, one who’d been more of a misogynistic dick than Tom, just as you’d seen him fight his way through a sea of men out for his blood; you knew what the other was capable of and neither of you aimed to injure - but the few taps gave you both an excuse for the time you spent hidden away from everyone else.

You were always left to make the first move, forced to strike first, but you didn’t mind. There was an aggression beneath your fondness, an anger that you’d fallen for him out of everyone you could’ve fallen for instead, and he accepted those strikes readily. It was his act of repentance, his confirmation that he understood - that he felt the same.

The fight never lasted long, both of you bounced on the balls of your feet as you studied the other. His eyes, bright blue darkening with something hungry, tracked each step you made. You could feel the weight of his gaze settling on your skin and it made you feel alive, filled your veins with a rush of adrenaline and pushed you forward.

As you expected, after the first few hits landed - how did we get here?; why did you let me fall?; please catch me - Ben managed to dodge each jab you threw at him easily. His expression brightened with every move you made, eyes lit up with a warm desire that settled in your chest and compressed your lungs. He struggled to keep a straight face as you circled one another while he waited for you to move, laughed when you faked a lunge, and moved with you so easily that it felt as if you’d been doing this your entire lives.

You both broke a sweat, your chest began to heave and your lungs began to burn with exertion, and that was when Ben made his move. You lunged, pressed forward, and he sidestepped your advance. He caught you with an arm around your waist and stopped you in your tracks.

He trapped you in the steel cage of his arms easily, one hand splayed across your abdomen while the other curled around your hip. The searing heat of him, overwhelming in the oppressive atmosphere of the desert and obvious even through the fabric of your shirt, pulled a quiet sigh from your lips as he held you close. Your fight fizzled then, dissolved as he made a victorious noise, and you reveled in the feeling of Ben’s body pressed to yours once again.

You could feel every heave of his chest pressed to your back, every sharp exhale fanning across your heated skin, every flex of his fingers as he fought to keep from pressing them into your skin with enough pressure to bruise - no marks, no bruises, no slips of the tongue; those were the rules and Ben was good at following them, if it meant he got to have you like this again.

More obvious than his searing touch, however, was the press of his cock - hard and straining against the material of his pants - to your hip.

You raised an eyebrow, feigned surprise - despite knowing exactly how this would turn out from the start - and rocked your hips back. When Ben groaned, the sound low in his throat, you grinned. “Is that a gun in your pocket or are you excited to see me?”

He laughed, the sound a low rumble you felt more than heard, and squeezed your hip. He pressed himself closer, allowed you to feel him more fully, and ducked his head to nose at the delicate skin just beneath your ear. “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he admitted easily, voice pitching lower as his breath fanned across your skin - sticky and warm in the stifling heat but in no way unwelcome. “Pope told me you were here as soon as I got back from patrol. Just been waiting to get you alone.”

That was no surprise. You knew that someone would disclose your presence sooner rather than later - Santiago, Frankie, Will, maybe even Tom, if he wanted to get under Ben’s skin - but you were surprised that he waited for you to find him. He’d sought you out before, waited for you in the shadows until he could steal you away for a moment alone.

After your last visit, however, you could understand why he wasn’t keen on throwing himself to the wolves when you had a touch more freedom to come and go. Still, you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “You weren’t gonna come find me?”

Ben groaned at the pout in your voice, breath shuddered as he tilted his head to nip at your jaw. He took a moment to gather himself before he scoffed. “You’re fucking with me, right? I don’t have a death wish,” he teased, as he loosened his grip enough for you to turn in his arms. “I’m not gonna interrupt meetings with people who could - and would - make me disappear. My hand’s been just fine the last few months. Figured I could tough it out a little longer.”

“My brave soldier,” you cooed. Your grin brightened when he rolled his eyes, beamed as he hauled you closer. The heat of his chest settled into yours, warm and solid as you lifted your hand to press your palm to his heart. He inhaled sharply at the contact, playful facade chipping at the corners as he reveled in the delicate touch, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from kissing away the pinch between his brows.

Deflection, your weapon of choice, and Ben knew it. Expected it, when you took a moment to search his eyes before raising a brow. “You’re afraid of a few little spec ops guys? Damn, Miller.” Try as you might, the jab was less convincing than you intended. It rang a touch hollow, though you knew Ben would be the only one who could tell. “You’re not as insane as I thought you were.”

The first time you met Ben, you hurled every insult under the sun at him - called him a reckless moron, a muscle-bound dickhead, an impulsive jackass - yelled until you couldn’t yell anymore, yelled until you collapsed with shaking knees and constricting lungs. He waited it out, sat with you in a dusty room as you sobbed, before he promised he’d get you back to base in one piece. When he did, got you back without so much as a scratch, he teased you relentlessly for your meltdown but, unlike the others, never seemed to mean it.

It was soft, the solid foundation of a relationship you no longer knew how to live without, and hoped you’d never have to.

Now, he took your teasing in stride - got as good as he gave - and rolled his eyes as he returned his hands to your hips. He ignored the quip, batted away your deflection with a raised brow of his own, and asked, “What’re you doin’ back here? Thought they were shippin’ you back stateside and sticking you on desk duty.”

The pair of you would always be at a disadvantage; you knew everything he did, had access to every mission report his unit filed (and the ones they didn’t), could figure out where in the world he was with a single call. But he could never know anything more than what your superiors shared.

Ben knew that, was reminded of it time and again when he tried to poke around - get an update on you from Santiago, from Will, from fucking Tom - and sighed as you diverted your gaze to glance over his shoulder at a set of weights. He nodded, tilted his head to glance up at the ceiling, before he laughed quietly. “Can’t tell me,” he answered, before you could. “I know. Just thought I’d ask. See if somethin’ changed.”

He paused then, tipped his head back down, and searched your face. You knew that he could read the apology you refused to utter aloud written clearly across your face, could see the way regret made you press your lips into a thin line - not regret at meeting him, never regret at meeting him, only regret that you met under these conditions; regret that you may never know one another elsewhere, as anything other than this - and as he studied you, you returned the gesture in kind.

There was an earnest look in his eyes - something sad glittering in the blue of his eyes that had no place cooling the warmth of him - and a set to his jaw that kept him from speaking as freely as he’d like. He knew that he could talk to you - could tell you things no one else got to hear - but this wasn’t the place, not the time.

Instead, he swallowed thickly, masked his disappointment with another soft laugh. A quick glance at the ground to gather himself before he lifted his eyes to yours. “Can you at least tell me how long you’re here?”

Despite the doubt - the bitter disappointment that this was all you could have, regret at having met someone like Ben when neither of you were in a position to do much about it - curling around your lungs like vines, forcing them to deflate, your mouth curved into a soft smirk. Ben could see right through it, could see you, but he said nothing. That was the deal; you didn’t dwell on what could be, if life was different, and you didn’t let the sadness linger.

You deflected, pushed past the soft ache blossoming in your chest, and he let you. Your eyes dipped to his mouth, traced his lips as you licked your own. “Long enough for you to fuck me.”

Ben followed where you led, trudged faithfully behind you with an eagerness that made your heart feel as if it would shatter in your chest, and moments like this were no exception.

Like flipping a switch, the lingering melancholy disappeared and he smiled. Ben’s tongue darted out, dragged along his bottom lip, and took a moment you knew you didn’t have to appraise you. His gaze - heavy, starving after months of distance - raked your form. He lingered on your exposed legs, exhaled sharply - quietly, as if he hoped you wouldn’t notice - at the few new scars that littered your skin, before he shook his head.

Not here, not now.

“Was nice of you to get all dressed up for me.” It was meant to be teasing, a soft jab at the clothes you usually wore - civilian garb that he loved to pick apart, though his hands were always careful as he popped the buttons on your blouse - but there was a warmth in his eyes, shining through the burning desire, that hit you square in the chest.

It was soft, fond, and settled low in your belly as he dipped a calloused hand beneath the hem of your t-shirt. That fire, the one you felt that first night, burned brighter now; hotter, harder to control, and Ben seemed to realize that as he tugged you impossibly closer.

His hand caressed your heated skin, touch far too gentle for a moment like this - for a man like him, for a pair like you - but you couldn’t bring yourself to chide him. You could only lean into it and allow yourself this moment, however fleeting, as you returned the teasing smile Ben flashed.

“Figured we’d get in a good workout.” The reply was cloying, demure, and Ben scoffed playfully at the way you looked up at him from beneath your lashes. You were anything but demure - a force, he’d called you; a battering ram, others joked - but you liked to pretend for him, if only to see the pink dusting his cheeks as you teasingly raked your nails down the expanse of his chest.

He sucked in a shuddering breath at the sensation, blinked as if your touch ripped the reply from his mouth, derailed his train of thought and set him barreling down a new track. His mouth opened, shut, opened once more. “I-“ He cut himself off, declaration dying on the tip of his tongue before he could breathe it aloud, make it real.

But you knew what he was going to say.

I missed you.

It went unspoken, seen but never heard. You missed him, too, but there was no room for that; not here, not now. You both knew that. Still, you nodded. “I know.” Your assurance was soft, quiet, but Ben heard it. He took it for what it was worth and brightened just a little when you whispered, “Me, too.”

That was as close as you could get, as much as you could give. For now, it was enough.

Another flip of a switch and the fire in his eyes blazed again, burned so bright it threatened to consume you. The blunt press of his fingers to your skin made you sigh and he smiled - real, true, honest - at the noise. “C’mon,” he urged, thoughts back on track; focus back on the task at hand. “Gotta make you cum before someone notices you’re gone.”

“I saw Will and Pope heading for the staff,” you admitted, grinning as his hands bunched the fabric of your shirt. “Think they’re gonna try to buy us some time.”

You were a badly kept secret, one he wanted to share with the world, but settled for sharing with his brothers. He laughed quietly, made a face, but you could see the puff of his chest with the reminder that they knew - you were his, just as he was yours, even if neither of you could say it and he wanted them to know.

“I’ll pay for it later,” he declared, wry smile twisting his mouth - undermined completely by the satisfied gleam in his eyes. “But, right now, I don’t care.”

Ben dipped his head then, sought your kiss to ground himself in the moment. His mouth slotted perfectly over yours, lips warm and slightly chapped from the desert air. Still, they felt familiar, comfortable, safe. It was a balm for the ache in your chest, a brief respite from the feelings that weighed so heavily on your shoulders, and you knew that this was as much for him as it was for you.

He kissed the way he lived, the way he fought; gave his all, pressed on without pause, and sank himself fully into you. You’d learned that he had an oral fixation, would be glad to spend hours exploring your body with eager swipes of his lips and teeth and tongue, but when there was no time, he settled for this instead. He broke kisses to speak, to ask questions and murmur praise, but his mouth almost always returned to yours.

Fantasies were sometimes shared, giggled about between the press of his fingers to your heated skin and searing kisses, and if you gave him half a chance, he’d gladly allow you to sit on his face. There was no time, though, no real place to indulge in one another. Stolen moments were all you had so you tugged him closer and aimed to make the best of it.

His hands skated across your skin, warm and seeking as he busied himself with mapping each warm patch of stomach and hip he could reach. Yours drifted to his hair, fingers carding through sweat dampened strands, and he made a satisfied noise that shot straight to your core when you tugged.

Your time was limited, moments stolen, and you could never press for more, no matter how badly you wanted it. It was always a dangerous game, playing with fire, but neither of you could find it in yourselves to care as his hands dipped lower. He traced the band of your shorts with blistering fingers as his tongue licked at the seam of your mouth. He crowded you, towered over you in a way that reduced the rest of the world to a speck of dust, and grinned against your mouth when you canted your hips forward.

He took pity on you, knew that he was pushing his luck with every teasing scrape of his fingers across sensitive skin, and slipped his hand past the barrier of your thin panties. His fingers dragged through your folds and he groaned at the slick gathered between your thighs.

“Fuck, honey,” he hissed, words tumbling from his lips as he pressed his forehead to yours. “Sparring with me get you this wet?”

There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he asked but you could see the need for validation beneath it. Every once in a while, when you knew he needed a touch more affection - a bit of an ego boost - you offered it to him on a silver platter. Your hands shifted from his hair to the back of his neck as you surged forward, tilted your head to nip at the hinge of his jaw, and admitted, “Looking at you got me this wet, Miller.”

Ben stifled his moan with a bite to your shoulder, teeth pressed into the fabric of your t-shirt, and you would’ve laughed had he not shifted his hand then. “Sayin’ shit like that,” he began as two calloused fingers rolled over your clit with a practiced ease, “is a good way to get fucked, honey.”

A moan, quiet but desperate for more - always desperate for more - escaped your parted lips as his fingers worked you and Ben’s chest puffed in satisfaction. Still, you continued on. “’s why I said it,” you declared, though your voice shook as you pulled away enough to see his face. “One of us has to be the voice of reason, hurry this along.”

He rolled his eyes, feigning offense as he worked his fingers over your clit, continued moving them in circles and spreading slick. “Say that like we don’t have all the time in the world,” he teased, brow winging up as he tilted his head to watch your face. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, careful to keep your noise to a minimum, and Ben frowned. “You got somewhere else to be?”

“Fuck off.”

Ben laughed then but you knew he would do anything but. When the promise of spending a moment together was on the table - a moment together that involved this - Ben would never pass it up. You could see just how much he’d missed you, missed this, in his eyes as he studied you intently. Each pass of his fingers over your clit sent a shock down your spine, made you desperate for more, and he could see it.

His fingers dipped lower, then, smeared slick across your folds, and pressed insistently to your entrance. It was an awkward angle, made worse by the height difference, but neither of you really cared as you used the hand on the back of his neck to tug him back to your mouth.

He eagerly swallowed every noise you made, licked into your mouth and searched for bliss in the heat of your skin pressed to his. Still, it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough.

A whine echoed through the small space, escaped your mouth the moment Ben pulled away - ripped his mouth and hands from you, smeared slick across your lower belly when he tugged his hand free from your shorts - but it was short lived. He dragged you to the small folding chair in the corner, one that you could only pray would hold your combined weight, and sat heavily. His fingers wrapped around your wrists, tugged you onto his lap in one quick yank, and you laughed quietly as his hand cupped your cheek.

“Hi,” he breathed, eyes wide as he glanced up at your face. “Didn’t think this through,” he admitted as his gaze flicked to your shorts. “Wanna take those off?”

Sometimes, it was easy to forget that Ben - sweet, impulsive, strong, Ben - was a soldier. It was easy to forget where you were, what you were doing there, what you were doing to him, but that made remembering all the harder. But that did little to quell your aching desire as you shifted, removed yourself from his lap and shimmied out of your shorts.

He whistled lowly, eyes roving your exposed skin, and clicked his tongue. “As many times as we’ve done this,” he began as he reached out with searching fingers, desperate to tug you back to his lap, “I’ve never seen you totally naked. Always too dark or rushed.”

“Oh,” you hummed, faux surprising coloring your voice as his fingers snapped the band of your panties. “You mean you’ve never seen my tattoos?”

Ben groaned, low in his throat, and tipped his head back as his hands smoothed over the expanse of your thigh. “I know you’re fuckin’ with me, but shit,” he laughed, eyes searching yours for any hint of deceit. “You’re already hot. Tattoos would make you untouchable.”

A quiet laugh echoed around you before you leaned in to ghost your lips over his. “Focus, Benny,” you implored, “fuck me and maybe we’ll live to actually see each other totally naked.”

He didn’t need to be told again.

Ben shifted, jostled you on his lap and nudged the cotton of your panties to the side. He shifted, lifted his hips to tug his own shorts down just enough to free his cock, and grinned when you moaned quietly at the sight. He dragged the leaking head of his cock through your folds, smeared your slick across his aching shaft, and huffed a breathless laugh when you moaned at the feeling of his tip bumping your clit. “Wish I could take my time with you,” he admitted, voice tight as he notched the tip at your entrance. “Wanna see you fall apart for me, honey.”

You wished for the same, wished you could spend hours at a time with Ben between your thighs or lounging in your bed. Wished you could sink to your knees, spending long moments teasing him with kitten licks and cloying smiles. Wished you could explore one another’s skin, map his body with lips and tongue and fingers.

Not here, not now.

Ben’s eyes lifted to yours, searched for confirmation that you wanted this, and inhaled deeply when you nodded. A heavy push, a lift of your hips, and gravity worked you down steadily. When he bottomed out, he released a heavy exhale that fanned across your heated skin.

“You feel better every time,” he praised, mouthing at your pulse point. “Fuck, your pussy’s magic, honey.”

Another laugh escaped you, breathless and punched out, but it still made you glad to know that Ben enjoyed this as much as you did. His touch set you alight, blistered your skin from the inside out, and you were grateful to feel it once more.

The press of him inside you was always perfectly filling, snug but comfortable, and the slight pinch you felt as you took a moment to adjust was a necessary reminder of where you were. As desperate as you both were for forever, you were forced to settle for that moment.

Though Ben fucked you as if you had no time, gradually built a pace that had you bouncing on his lap - neither of you paying the creaking of the chair any mind - there was a tenderness to his touch. He kept you close, chest pressed to yours and mouth constantly exploring your blistering skin, as he filled you so completely.

His sounds, punched out breaths and deep moans - little whispers of your name, murmurs of quiet praise, pussy-drunk babble that bypassed his brain in a stream of consciousness - echoed in your ear and played on a loop. Hearing him fall apart, so desperate to feel you, made your own end barrel forward like a train.

When he started speaking, it seemed as if he couldn’t stop. His hands skated across your skin, never quite settling in one place, just as his mouth kept moving; never settling on one stream of consciousness. But nothing seemed to matter as he pressed into you, deeper and deeper and deeper, still. You were certain he could feel the beat of your heart, pulsing and racing and cracking in your chest, as you tipped your head back to look at him.

He kept his eyes on you, eager to watch you fall apart for him - desperate to commit the moment to memory - and it was hard to keep the tears at bay as his grip on your hips grew that much tighter. He never wanted to let go of you, wanted to sear his fingerprints into your skin as a reminder for anyone who dared to come after him - you were beginning to think that no one would, no one could measure up, but that was a dangerous line of thinking that you couldn’t afford to get caught up in.

Ben continued to push you higher, pressed into you with everything he had to give, and moaned desperately when you clenched around him. Your end triggered his own, pulled a keening sound straight from his chest that had you surging forward to seal your mouth over his. You swallowed his moans easily, readily, and continued rocking your hips as he seemed to spill endlessly inside you.

His hands on your hips pulled and pushed, kept you grinding against him - the brush of hair around his cock catching on your clit, the pinch of his fingers on your hips, the sting of his teeth at your lips - and you shivered with the overstimulation. But Ben was still half-hard and you wanted to laugh.

When he finally pulled away, felt as if he could be trusted not to broadcast your exploits to the entire camp, Ben glanced up at you with hazy eyes.

“Don’t wanna pull out.” He laughed quietly, the sound breathless as his head fell forward to press to your shoulder, and you lifted your hand to his hair. You raked your fingers through the sweat darkened strands and laughed softly as he continued, “Feel like fuckin’ heaven, honey.”

The first time you slept together, he blurted out every thought that crossed his mind and you joked that he’d gone too long without sex, that he’d gone pussy dumb. Now, you knew that it was just who he was. He spoke freely with you, even when he shouldn’t have, and hearing him utter enthusiastic praise constricted your lungs. Catching your breath grew harder, felt nearly impossible - even more so than it already was, with Ben still pressed so fucking deep inside - but you pressed on.

One, two, three, in; one, two, three, out.

“Can’t pretend we were just sparring if they catch us like this.” Your tone was teasing, light, but Ben knew how to read you. He took it for what it was - a reminder of where you were, who lingered just outside - and huffed as he prepared to pull out.

“One day,” he began, voice quieter than you’d ever heard it, “I’ll get to take my time with you. Stay in bed all day, make you cum as many times as you’ll let me. Then we could go to some dive; get shitty, greasy food and just…”

He trailed off, stopped himself before he could finish his thought - though you knew him well enough to know that he intended to declare that you could just be happy, well-fucked and well-fed and fucking happy - and you were grateful that he had the sense to stop before he could say something damning.

No reply you could offer would be enough. The future wasn’t guaranteed for either of you, neither was your chance of seeing one another again, but he didn’t need to be reminded of that fact any more than you did. Ben knew, understood, but chose to hope. He held onto it tight, wore it like a badge of honor, and there was no doubt in your mind that that was what drew you to him in the first place.

Ben was sunshine - bright and warm but more dangerous the closer you got.

Silence fell as he pulled away from you, broken only by the soft noises of displeasure you both made. You righted your clothes as you spared sidelong glances at one another, both wishing for the strength to pretend. You almost wished you could go back to the beginning, set a boundary that you would try (and likely fail) to keep in place, but you could never bring yourself to regret any moment of your time with Ben.

It was difficult, messy and heartbreaking, but you were better for having had even a moment of his time, a touch of his affection. And no amount of teasing, no amount of banter, could change the fact that you’d both fallen so fucking hard, so fucking fast. The damage was done, irreparable, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything other than reach out and pull him into one last kiss.

“Something to remember me by,” you breathed, mouth hovering dangerously close to his as your fingers threaded in his hair.

Still, that wasn’t enough. He pressed a heavy palm to the small of your back, tugged you in impossibly close, and captured your mouth in a bruising kiss. He poured everything he had to give into the act, shared every feeling he promised he wouldn’t speak aloud, and it stole the breath from your lungs as you gripped his biceps and held him close.

I missed you, I don’t want you to leave, take me with you, come back to me.

Tears stung at the backs of your eyes, turned them glassy and soft, and Ben hadn’t fared much better. When you pulled away, he lifted a hand to your cheek, brushed a thumb over the slope, before he offered the ghost of a smile. “Stay out of trouble, Sunshine.”

You rolled your eyes at the soft tease and shook your head as best as you could. “I’m the one that should be telling you that, Miller.”

He raised a brow, feigned a playful offense that made you smile, and asked, “What kinda trouble can I get into over here? They tell me to jump, I ask how high.” His expression soured then, turned solemn, and you bit your tongue to keep from sighing. “How high am I gonna have to jump tomorrow?”

“Please don’t,” you whispered, voice breaking slightly as you tipped your head to avoid his knowing gaze. “Not right now. Not after…”

Ben swallowed thickly, you watched his throat bob as he reminded himself you weren’t the enemy - though, if you really thought about it, maybe you were; you came, fucked him, and left when it was time for him to fight. “I know,” he sighed, voice pitching lower as he nodded. “I know.” Another heavy pause, laden with the heaviness you both felt, passed before Ben nodded. “Guess this is it, then. Have a safe flight home, Sunshine.”

It was your turn to swallow as you watched him turn for the exit. You scrubbed your eyes, blinked back your tears, and spoke before you could really think about it.

“Hey, Miller?” You weren’t sure what you wanted to say, just that you weren’t ready for him to leave. As expected, Ben’s steps faltered, stopped, as he turned to face you with lifted brows. There was a lingering sadness dimming his eyes and you took a moment to gather yourself, tried to right your train of thought even as you sank under the weight of his gaze. His jaw ticked as he swallowed, searched your face with a desperation that made you want to look away. Instead, you offered him a soft smile. “Don’t die, alright?”

A look you’d never seen before flashed in his eyes; a searing warmth, a desperate ache. He chuckled softly as he folded his arms over his chest. He swallowed once more - throat bobbed with the effort of it - and ducked his head, before his lips curled into a smile. “Gettin’ sweet on me, honey?”

Deflection, tried and true; your shared favorite weapon.

You shook your head, though you both knew it was an exercise in futility. “No.” Despite the teasing, the desperate attempts to keep him at arm’s length, you’d been sweet on him the entire time. You knew that he could see it - knew that everyone else around you could see it, even if they pretended not to - just as you knew it was reciprocated.

Not here, not now.

Instead of reminding him of that fact, you rolled your eyes and wrapped your arms around yourself - desperate to hold yourself together as he prepared to head off into the unknown. “Just don’t wanna deal with the paperwork,” you scoffed. “Burying your ass would be a bitch.”

He expected that, that much you could tell, and laughed easily as he nodded. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” He paused for a moment, eyed you once more - let himself commit you, this moment, to memory - before a sincere smile brightened his features. “You can’t get rid of me that easy,” he promised and your skin heated with the conviction in his voice - he planned on making it back in one piece, planned on seeing you again, and you were glad. “Millers never say die.”

There was never any guarantee and it was never that simple. Ben was good - so were his brothers - but you knew that wasn’t always enough. In that moment, however, you didn’t allow yourself to dwell. So, you nodded, a barely there tip of your head, and cast your eyes to the ground. “See you when I see you, Benny.”

It was difficult to know if you’d ever see one another again, despite how desperate you both were for the opportunity, but neither wanted your parting words to be goodbye. It felt too real, too permanent; speaking it aloud might make it true, might encourage the universe to keep you apart indefinitely.

Ben waited for you to look at him. When you did, his expression softened, shoulders sagged under the weight of your farewell, and he nodded. He took a deep breath, prayed you couldn’t hear it shake, and returned, “See you when I see you, honey.”

‘I hope it’s someday soon,’ lingered in the air, unspoken but deeply felt. You let it hang for a moment, blinked back traitorous tears that pricked at the backs of your eyes, before you lifted your head to meet his eyes once more. Another moment passed before he turned to leave.

He paused to steel himself - lifted his shoulders, tipped his head, exhaled heavily as he shook his hands by his sides - before he stepped back into the real world and left you in silence. You stared after him with unfocused eyes, unseeing as you tethered yourself back to the moment. There was a job to be done, a reason that you’d been dropped back into the desert, and the sooner you finished your assignment, the sooner you’d be assigned another. Then another, and then another; on and on the cycle went until one day, you’d get to see Ben again.

You just hoped it would be someday soon.

____________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: I started it, it got out of hand, now I present it to you. Enjoy.

Tag List: @peoniarose, @karie-me-home, @rachelwritestuff, @stardust-galaxies, @deliciouslydisturbed365, @a-louise-juliane, @ben-is-a-hoe, @weasleywinchester, @crowfootwrites, @winchestershiresauce, @kesskirata, @lyr1ssa, @viyasstuff, @negansnympho89, @im-just-a-mississippi-girl, @kirsteng42, @balekanemohafe, @avengers-fixation, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @nintendhoe8, @luciferiorbxtch, @jettia, @xoxabs88xox

#benny miller imagine #benny miller x reader #benny miller smut #triple frontier smut #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #benny miller x you #v's fics

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avintagekiss24 · 3 years

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Hi! I don't want to start anything on here and am always willing for civil conversations. At this point there's so much I've found out about Seb (besides the video he liked, the tommy lee thing, and the girlfriend thing) that I feel so guilty if I would continue to support him. I love him sm but it just doesn't look good rn. He is associated/follows an organisation (for helping veterans) that has posted a blue lives matter flag picture and who's co-founder has sexual assault allegations against him, and worked with him in 'The last full measure'. His friend Paul Walter Hauser has done blackface in the past, and when called out on it he just listed a few people that also did blackface. There's more, I found a discussion on here that I can link. I seriously don't support "cancel culture" bc I don't think it helps anyone but there are just a lot of 'mistakes' and shady people that can be linked to Seb, I wish it wouldn't be that way. I honestly don't know what to think about it anymore.

Hi! I’m also open to having civil conversations and I don’t believe you’re trying to start anything. I really do think this situation of dragging up a four year old video and taking it completely out of context is harmful not just to Black people, but to fandom/activism in general. This is gonna be long because I’m going to take your points one by one, and I want to preface this by saying that I will not answer any derogatory, sideways asks pertaining to this subject. I will delete every single one and will block your silly ass. I’m not going to argue with people who think I’m blindly supporting Sebastian because I’m just trying to get fucked by him, or people who think I hate myself and am trying to appease some white man.

So, on with the discourse!

The video he liked - this video was taken completely out of context and that is my main issue with this whole situation. It was not a video of a white man saying that he thinks he should be able to say the n word as everyone claimed it was. They were quickly debating on whether or not it's okay to say in rap lyrics. He was told no, that's not okay, that's never okay and they moved on from it. That's it. End of story. That somehow was twisted into a click bait style headline of "Sebastian Stan likes a video of a white man defending his right to say the n word" when that is absolutely not true. My other issue is that people are more upset that Sebastian liked the video than they are about the white man in the video literally saying the n word. So, do you really care about the use of the n word like you're claiming? Cuz if you do, you'd be more upset at the white man that said the word than you would be about the white man simply liking the video. Or, are you just using this as an excuse to grandstand against a white man you don't like?

The Tommy Lee thing - Sebastian Stan playing Tommy Lee does not make Sebastian Stan a bad person. Is Charlize Theron a bad person for playing Aileen Wuornos, a prostitute who started murdering men? Is Leonardo DiCaprio a bad person for playing a slave owner? Is Edward Norton a bad person for playing a nazi sympathizing racist? Actors play bad people. That doesn't mean that they themselves are bad people. 1990's Tommy Lee was a bad person, but that should have no bearing on who Sebastian Stan is or his character as a man.

The gf/Paul Walter Hauser thing - Why are we holding Sebastian accountable for what the people around him are doing? Again, why are we more upset that Sebastian is associated with people who have done questionable things than the specific people themselves? I'm not going to speak on the kimono wearing -- I'm not Asian. It's not my place to say whether or not its offensive because it's not my culture, but she posted that picture and attended that party before she started dating Sebastian, quite possibly before she even knew him. Same with Paul. I think that black face thing was long before he knew Sebastian. Now, if Sebastian was defending these actions, going around saying "I think it's okay for white women to wear Kimono's" "I think black face is fine" "I think white people should be able to say the n word" then we'd have a different story, wouldn't we? But that's not what we have, and that's not what he is doing. He is not responsible for the things his friends do or have done in the past just because he's more famous than they are, and he is not required to speak on them. Let's put it this way -- would you be comfortable having to be responsible for something a friend of yours did before you knew them? Would you want to have to be forced to answer for your friend when you yourself had nothing to do with the questionable behavior?

The organization that supports the military/blue lives matter - Sebastian cannot control what message that foundation puts out and it does not mean that he is or is not pro-police himself. There is not enough concrete evidence -- if any evidence for that matter -- that Sebastian is a blue lives matter supporter. Did Sebastian donate before they put up the blue lives matter post? Or after? I don’t know, cuz I don’t follow him that closely, but if he donates before they come out with a particular stance, that means he should be held accountable for that? I know I donated to an organization once and they turned out to support something that i’m 100% against. That means I’m a bad person because I couldn’t see into the future? Another point, how can we be certain that Sebastian saw the blue lives matter post in the first place? I know I’m not online 24 hrs a day, I miss posts all the time and I’m just an average person. I make three or four tumblr posts a day, and I’m gone. I have to play catch up on social media, and even then, I still miss stuff. So I’m sure the same happens to a working actor. As for the co-founder, I don't know who this person is and would rather not get into any allegations against them because I don't want to trigger anyone who comes across this post. If Sebastian knows about these allegations, is a willing participant/supporter of this person then yeah, that's pretty shitty, but we don't know the inner workings of this friendship/acquaintance/work relationship. We don’t know how close they are or if they even still speak.

I’m a pretty big fan of Don Cheadle. He’s a stand up guy, he’s a great actor, he’s funny, he’s political and stands up for what he believes in and in a very public way. I support him. Don Cheadle is also friends with Chris Evans, RDJ, Mark Ruffalo, and Letitia Wright (just to name a few). Chris Evans has a bipartisan forum that highlights/promotes right wing politicians, RDJ defended Chris Pratt during the whole “he’s the worst Chris in Hollywood” crap, who’s technically done black face, and who once said to a female reporter “nice tits” when she walked into the room, Mark Ruffalo just walked back his support of Palestine, and Letitia Wright retweeted/supported an anti-vaxxer/anti-trans Pastor who equated an ingredient of the covid vaccine to the devil because it contained some parts of the word Lucifer. Does that mean Don is now a bad person because he’s friends with these people? Why isn’t he getting any heat for his friendships with them? Why isn’t he being held accountable for what they’ve done and said? Oh right, because he’s not a white fave. So people don’t care one way or the other, which brings me to my next point.

I can guarantee you that if Sebastian’s gf or Paul or this co-founder were not associated with Sebastian in any way, nobody would give a shit about her wearing a kimono, about Paul doing black face, or about the co-founder/organization being blue lives matter supporters and in that lies the actual problem. Being critical of people and their actions should be consistent and should happen all the time -- not just when they interact with your white fave. That’s when it becomes performative and looks like you just want to be able to show internet people that you follow/support/stan unproblematic celebrities, when really, you don’t care.

I think the moral of this post is that I think it's unfair to hold a complete stranger to a standard that I cannot hold myself to. I also don't view celebrities the way most teenagers/twenty somethings do, and that’s because when I entered fandom we didn't have social media, so I grew up with a wall between myself and said celebrities. There is no wall now with the presence of social media. "Fans" nowadays have a weird ownership feeling over celebrities because they can read their personal thoughts or view personal pictures and think that they have this personal quasi-friendship with them. I can't get on board with that. I prefer having the wall and I still keep the wall.

If supporting Sebastian makes you uncomfortable, then by all means, stop supporting him. Just make sure you are making this decision for yourself based on credible sources and concrete evidence and that you're not letting this fake woke activist mob make you feel uncomfortable. Internet activism means nothing unless you put your money where your mouth is in your real life and 90% of the social justice internet warriors do not. Real activism is bigger than changing your avi to a black square.

#asks #answered #sebastian stan

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sleeping-on-cracking-ice · 3 years

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Hi! I'm a new follower and I just binged all of your stories today! And sooooo in love!

I just want to request a story, where chishiya is madly possesive of his S/O, where he gets jealous of anyone who would touch her.

S/O is a female.

Thank youuu so much!

Of course! Thanks so much for following and reading my fics! ❤❤

Possessive | Shuntaro Chishiya

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Summary: You begin to notice Chishiya’s possessive behaviour around you when you start becoming more serious about your relationship

Type: short scenario

Word Count: 1.7k

*reader is female

Author’s Note: this is more like just a few scenarios of Chishiya being possessive. It isn’t that well written since I had to rush it a bit. I felt like I had to post something today cause I haven’t in a while, so I was a bit busy 😣

You never viewed Chishiya as the possessive type, especially when it came to relationships. The sly, manipulative character seemed to convey the vibe that he wouldn’t care less about who his significant other talked to or hung out with. But of course, during the first few weeks of dating him, you began to notice that your assumption was completely inaccurate.

It started with small gestures, like pulling you closer to him subtly when you were hanging around the pool area, or keeping a strong grip on your hand when walking down the hallways of the hotel together. You always thought it was him just being a good boyfriend, but over time you began to think otherwise.

Chishiya became more clingy towards you, both in public and private. Sometimes he would not allow you to leave his side at all, which always ended in a complaint from you. Even when you rolled your eyes and tried to walk away from him anyway, he would just grab you by your waist and pull you back to him, giving you a quick glare to warn you.

In private, like when you were in your shared room together, he always hid your shirts from you so you would be forced to wear one of his white t-shirts. He would become all happy and giddy when you saw you in his clothes, wrapping his arms around you like a little koala and not letting go for hours. There would be some nights when you would have to pry his arms off from your torso, as he simply refused to let you go.

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

One night, you both were sitting in a booth together outside around the pool area. Most of The Beach’s residents had made their way to bed, so it was just you and Chishiya having a few drinks together with the occasional small group of people walking nearby.

Chishiya had his lips against yours, moving slowly and intimately as he held the side of your face with one hand and rubbed the bare skin of your waist with the other. You were having a heated make out session, just enjoying being in each other’s presence without being disturbed by anyone.

“Chishiya,” you breathed out as you broke the kiss, making Chishiya pout unhappily. “Let’s head inside, it’s getting cold out here.”

Chishiya smiled and shook his head at your suggestion. “Can we just spend a few more minutes here? There’s too many people inside and just want some alone time with you,” he asked, tucking his head into the crook of your neck and lightly nipping at the sensitive skin. You winced as he kissed and bit along your neck and collarbones.

“I want to see Arisu. He said he wasn’t feeling too well today and I want to check up on him,” you said, pulling Chishiya away from your neck by his shoulders. Chishiya held a frown on his face.

“Why do you want to see Arisu? I’m right here, you don’t need him,” he groaned in an annoyed tone while tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You pulled a sarcastic face and rolled your eyes.

“Yes I know, but I’m just worried about him, that’s all,” you insisted, pushing your hand underneath Chishiya’s chin and pressing your thumb against his lips lightly.

Chishiya gazed lovingly into your eyes as you traced your thumb across his cheek, closing his eyes in content as the feeling of your hand on his skin. “You’re so pretty,” you praised, giving him a short peck on his nose, making him chuckle slightly.

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

A more prominent incident that conveyed his possessive personality was when you were in an executive meeting together.

You were a higher ranking member of the militants, so you were able to be present at meetings with Hatter.

Both you and Chishiya stood at the end of the large room together, leaning against the wooden wall and listening to the debate that everyone was holding. Hatter was trying to decide which executives to send to the next game, as he was expecting the game to represent a card that they had not yet able to achieve, and he wished to make sure that they were guaranteed to bring it back.

“Niragi and Aguni could go,” Mira suggested, gesturing towards the two taller men that sat at the table next to one another. “They have a 100% winning streak, so I think they’d be the best choice for a diamonds game such as this one.”

Your eyes broke from the rest of the room when you felt Chishiya’s hand run along yours, reaching for your hand and lacing your fingers together. You looked at his face, not even earning a side glance from him. It was unusual for him to act romantic towards you in front of the executives, especially during a meeting.

“Why doesn’t Y/N join then?” you suddenly heard your name. You looked back over to the table and saw Niragi eyeing you, making you tense immediately. “She can come with us, since she too has cleared a lot of diamond games.”

As everyone turned towards you and Chishiya, you felt Chishiya’s grip on your hand tighten.

Before you could even speak, Chishiya spoke for you.

“No,” he bluntly stated.

“No?” Niragi questioned, standing up from his seat and making his way over towards you and Chishiya’s position. “Why do you say no Chishiya?” Niragi asked, pressing the barrel of his rifle towards him.

“I’m not letting her go with you, not if I’m not there.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just continued to glance between the two bickering men.

“She’s her own person, she can speak for herself,” Niragi growled into Chishiya’s face, turning towards you. Your heart stopped as he stepped towards your smaller frame. “So, what do you think sweetheart? We could really use your help.”

The way he ran his tongue along his bottom lip creepily at the end of his sentence made you uneasy. Before you could even answer, Chishiya had pulled you by your arm roughly behind him, putting himself between you and Niragi and shoving on his chest to get him away.

“Fuck off you perv,” he cursed at him, “she’s staying here. I don’t care how much you need her. I wouldn’t even let her in the same room as you or Aguni without me there.”

Niragi scoffed and gave you both an angered look before turning away. “Fine. Keep that personality up around her Chishiya, she just might get sick of you treating her like a possession you have control over.”

***********

Another incident occurred when you were both at the neon coloured bar outside in the party area.

Chishiya had to leave for a few minutes to look for Kuina, so you decided to wait at the bar for him to return, despite his protesting.

You were nodding your head to the music and sipping your drink, enjoying your time by yourself and having a nice conversation with the young lady who was the bartender. You suddenly were pulled from your thoughts when a cold hand was placed on your lower back, making you jump and spin your head around with an annoyed expression.

“Hey gorgeous,” he slurred his words, obviously drunk. “You’re looking awfully lonely. You want to come dance with me,” he pressed, running a hand through your hair softly. You swatted his hand away from your face and shuffled over in your seat to distance yourself from him.

“No thanks,” you declined politely. “I’m actually with someone, so I’m waiting for them right now,” you tried to reassure him.

He frowned and looked around the bar for someone who you might have been with. “I don’t see anyone. I’m sure your partner won’t mind if you have a little dance with me~”

His flirtatious tone made you cringe. He seemed awfully insistent. You declined once again and stood up from your seat to walk away, but you didn’t get the chance to when he grabbed you by your waist and pulled your back against his chest. “Stop being so hard to get. I just want to get to know you a little better.”

You tried to pull yourself from his touch as he ran his hands along the skin of your stomach a bit too intimately for it to be comfortable.

To your surprise, you heard a loud impact noise and the man’s grip left your body. You turned around to see what had happened to notice none other than Chishiya standing above the man on the ground, taser in hand.

“Piss off you horny dog,” he spat towards him, tucking his weapon back into his hoodie pocket. You noticed the people surrounding you watching the scene, making you feel uneasy, but Chishiya grabbed you by your hand and dragged you away from the crowd, heading towards the hotel.

After walking for a while, Chishiya turned around and looked at you, concern painted across his face.

“Oh my god, are you okay baby?” he asked, frantically checking your body for any signs of injury. “Did he touch you anywhere? I’m so sorry I left. I shouldn’t have left you alone like that, especially around all those intoxicated people.”

He was rambling as he rubbed your skin, trying to comfort you. “Chishiya,” you said, interrupting him. “I’m fine, it’s not your fault.”

You pulled him into a passionate kiss, running your hands through his hair, trying to calm him. Chishiya wrapped his arms around your shoulders to pull you closer, making you feel his warmth against you.

You snaked your hands underneath his hoodie and wrapped them around his back, scratching lightly through the material of his shirt. Chishiya sighed and pulled away from your lips, looking into your eyes.

“You’re all mine,” he whispered, rubbing his nose against yours playfully. You smiled at his statement. “You’re mine, don’t forget that.”

You nodded as he leant downwards to bite underneath your jaw. “Maybe I’m not making that clear enough,” he slyly said, making you chuckle nervously at his words. You gasped as he latched onto the skin of your neck, sucking on a single spot harshly. H.

“Chishiya, don’t!” you whispered-yelled. “You’ll leave a mark!”

Chishiya pulled away from your skin and admired the purple bruise that had formed on your neck, making him smirk. “That’s the point baby,” he said in a teasing tone. He leant back down and licked over the spot lightly to sooth the bruise.

You smiled and playfully hit his shoulder. “Idiot,” you groaned and rolled your eyes.

1K notes · View notes

invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

In Times Past

Character: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bruce Wayne’s life doesn’t exist beyond the fake storylines he performs for the media and citizens of Gotham. Maybe the only person that can change that is someone who knew him before Batman ever even existed.

Word Count: 8,200+ [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual harrassment

A/N: As I teased before, this was inspired by this scene from Batman Begins.

Bruce could sense Alfred’s tension when he walked into the kitchen that morning. The man was not one to hold back his thoughts and feelings. It was both a blessing and a curse. But Bruce sensed it was the latter today.

Before Bruce could even get a sip of coffee in, Alfred tossed the Sunday newspaper in front of him.

On the front page was a photo of Batman, far too high of a resolution for Bruce’s liking. ‘BATMAN: SAVIOR OR MENACE?’ the headline read.

“A little too close for comfort, don’t you think?” Alfred asked with a hint of sass.

However, Bruce controlled his reaction.

“Not the first time I’ve been photographed, Alfred.”

“You’re dancing with the devil, Master Wayne.”

“So, what? You want me to lay down the cape because everyone in America has the ability to take a photo on their cellphone?”

“Of course not,” Alfred retorted. Though Alfred secretly wished every day that Bruce would say goodbye to the Batman. “I just thought perhaps you should be putting a bit more effort into Bruce Wayne’s life if you really want to throw Gotham off your trail.”

Then he tossed another newspaper. This one of Bruce Wayne, the other mask he wore.

‘Bruce Wayne Lights Up the Room at Charity Ball.’

Alfred points to the date…it was 9 months ago. And it was unfortunately the last time Bruce Wayne was in the press.

“You better start creating alibis, Master Wayne, or the dark web will start to putting two and two together…”

Bruce sighed. He knew Alfred was right. But he hated all that went with what he had to do. He’d rather face off with Gotham’s deadliest criminals than go galavanting around the city as the self-absorbed and reckless playboy persona that he’d created.

“There is a birthday party for Eaton Elliot next weekend. Naturally, being old family friends, you received an invitation,” Alfred explained. “Plenty of press will be there to note your attendance. Seems rather convenient."

Bruce recognized the name. It was the older brother of Thomas Elliot, a childhood friend that he slightly lost touch with. He’d see him or his parents at various events, and things were always cordial.

But it didn’t really matter how absent or quiet Bruce was when it came to maintaining such relationships. Everyone forgave such behavior when it came to saving face with the only living member of the Wayne family. Bruce could spit in the faces of Gotham’s elite and they’d probably thank him for it.

“Black tie affair, as always,” Alfred added as he slipped the invitation to Bruce. “Perhaps you could bring a date…”

Bruce glared up at the butler. “Dates make it harder to make a quick and quiet exit, Alfred.”

“Well, maybe that’s the point, Master Wayne.”

————

Just like he was on patrol or working on an op, Bruce had prepared for every single scenario. He made a plan that would be the most effective in the shortest amount of time. He didn’t want to torture himself any longer than absolutely necessary.

When Alfred asked him again if he was planning on bringing a date, Bruce had only replied with a mischievous smirk.

Because he walked in with a girl on each arm.

It wasn’t the classy or gentlemanly thing to do. And that was exactly the point.

Conversations paused, attention was turned, and flashes went off.

Bruce Wayne made his entrance.

He carefully fell into the groove of being the spoiled brat everyone had painted him out to be. It had been awhile since he played the part, but Bruce always found it easy when he was surrounded by these kinds of people.

Bruce made sure to slightly slur his words. He would get too handsy with his dates. He would rudely interrupt people to share his own useless opinion on whatever topic was leading the conversation. He never looked waitstaff in the eye.

But now it was time for the finale.

Bruce whispered a certain suggestion into the ears of his dates.

They shared a look that proved they were both game.

The three of them stumbled into a bathroom – one out in the open that most of the guests would be steered toward.

The kissing began and clothes were quickly shifted.

There was a split moment when Bruce wondered what this would feel like for a man who actually wanted to be in this situation.

The two woman managed unbuckle his belt, the clanking metal echoing in the all-tile bathroom.

But just as they unbuttoned and then unzipped his pants, Bruce’s cellphone rang loudly.

Right on cue.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Bruce whined. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” his words stumbled out. “But I just have to take this call.”

“Aww. Brucie. You’re no fun,” one of the women fussed.

But Bruce gave off enough dominate energy that they didn’t try to fight him on it.

Hair disheveled, mouth swollen and pink, lipstick stains on his skin and his pants and belt barely put back together, Bruce stumbled out of the bathroom first.

The two women didn’t bother to stay back and spread out their exits, making it very clear what had just happened – or what it looked like just happened.

It didn’t matter that Bruce didn’t actually have sex with them, every woman in Gotham wanted to say they’d shared a bed with Bruce Wayne. His two dates would lie to save face and get street cred. Bruce hated that he knew that, that it was guaranteed.

Dozens of people, who were socializing near the bathroom, stopped what they were doing and watched with judgmental looks. Some men looked jealous. Some women looked disgusted and eyed the two women up and down.

Then there was the flash of a camera.

Bingo.

Bruce wouldn’t have to linger much longer now.

He played up being somewhat embarrassed.

But just as he put his phone to his ear to take the fake call that Alfred dialed, he saw the last person he expected.

It caused him to do a double take and freeze.

His focus fell for a moment as they made eye contact.

Why did she have to be here?

Why did she have to be one of his witnesses?

Why did it hurt so much to see how she looked at him as if he were a stranger?

And why did she have to look so god damn beautiful?

Y/F/N Y/L/N.

The Y/L/N family were another one of Gotham’s elite – well, they used to be.

Y/N’s father was once worth billions. But being born into wealth didn’t guarantee intelligence or the skills to properly run the family business. When Bruce and Y/N were in high school, Y/N’s father filed for bankruptcy and confessed that the family was about to lose everything. With the announcement, the press also exposed Mr. Y/L/N’s many lustful affairs.

What came next was a messy and brutal divorce that the media ate up.

Out of spite, Y/N’s mother remarried her ex-husband’s biggest competitor, maintaining her status and wealth, and making sure she still came out on top. It was the greatest revenge and even Y/N had to give her mother credit for the ingenuity of it all.

Bruce remembered how terrible it all was for Y/N, who was used as a pawn in her parents war against each other.

Having had enough of it, Y/N fled Gotham and chose to live with her eccentric great aunt in London and finished her last year of high school there.

But Y/N didn’t run away from Bruce. They emailed, texted, video chatted, called.

They had always been good friends.

The elites of Gotham always suspected the two would get married. But both Bruce and Y/N pretended to ignore such whisperings.

But when Bruce shifted his life, when he changed his life’s purpose, when he started becoming a vigilante…he stopped taking Y/N’s calls and he stopped returning them.

He told himself it was better that way. He couldn’t handle any distractions. Batman didn’t have time for personal relationships, so neither did Bruce Wayne. But more importantly, Y/N deserved someone who would prioritize her – even just as a friend.

Now Bruce needed to get actually drunk.

Putting the phone back to his ear, he broke eye contact and made a beeline for one of the bars.

“Did you forget to tell me about the guest list, Alfred?” Bruce muttered evenly to the phone, knowing that Alfred would easily be able to hear his anger and irritation.

“How was I to know who RSVPed yes or no…” Alfred bit back. But he knew exactly who Bruce was looking at.

Bruce frowned as he ended the call abruptly and asked for a whiskey.

“I don’t know, man. She’s not my type,” a man said to his friend.

The two of them were just a foot or two away from Bruce.

“What do you mean ‘not your type’? She’s fucking hot.”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s beautiful. But she’s so stiff and uptight. Look, she’s had a resting bitch face all night.”

Bruce’s grip on his face tightened as he easily put together who they were talking about. It was moments like these that Bruce hated being lumped together with men like this.

“You’re an idiot,” the friend said with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah? Alright. If you’re so obsessed with her, why don’t you go over and talk to her?”

Bruce saw his window.

With a sloppy haste, Bruce turned right into the two men and just happened to spill his drink over the man who was about to make a move on Y/N.

Bruce laughed and spilled another drink on the bar as he tried to grab some nearby cocktail napkins. “Gentleman, gentleman…I so dearly apologize.”

Both of them were clearly annoyed, but then realized who he was.

Bruce gripped them by the shoulders and made sure his eyes were struggling to stay open. “I could be wrong…but it’s possible…that I have been over served.”

He broke out into a chuckle and both men forced their own laughter.

Bruce subtle glanced over to where Y/N had been standing. She’d disappeared.

He’d spared her…for now.

“I think it’s time I go home,” Bruce told them too loudly. “Do me a favor? Wish her congratulations for me?”

The two men looked at one another. “Congratulations? To who?”

Bruce frowned in confusion and looked around. “Isn’t this an engagement party?”

They tried to hide their laughter. “Wayne, this is a birthday party. For Eaton Elliot.”

Bruce’s brows shot up. “A birthday party? Look at that!”

Then he turned around, zigzagged his walk, and threw a wave over his shoulder.

But Bruce wasn’t that lucky.

Because when he made his way to the valet, he found Y/N waiting patiently with her back to him.

Her fancy dress and gloves seemed to do nothing to help protect her from the cold night.

Bruce could’ve left. He could’ve left her alone, gone back into the party, and made more of a fool of himself.

But next thing he knew, he was walking forward.

“Waiting for your car?”

Y/N didn’t turn to him, but it was clear that she heard his question and recognized who it had come from. “I didn’t drive. They’re getting me a cab.”

Bruce nodded slowly even though she wasn’t looking at him.

All charm had left his body now that he had quit the act. It wasn’t going to do any favors for him. He needed to do this on his own, as his real self.

Y/N finally turned with a slight attitude and Bruce was taken aback at how she was even more beautiful up close.

“What are you doing here, Bruce?”

He smirked. “I’m here for the party, of course.” He didn’t want to play the part anymore – not with her. But it was second nature at this point.

Her lips pursed at his response.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

Y/N sighed. “Between you and me, I’m only here as a favor to my mother. She wouldn’t get off my back about coming. I tried to leave sooner, but…”

One of the valets hopped up the steps. “I’m sorry, Dr. Y/L/N. It can take awhile to get cabs in the area at this time of night.”

Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile and opened her mouth to say she’d walk home.

“I’ll drive her home,” Bruce spoke before she could. Then he handed the valet his ticket.

Y/N looked at him with confusion and a bit of annoyance. “You really don’t have to do that.”

Bruce just gave her a look that said he absolutely did.

Then Y/N gestured back to the party. “You’re just gonna abandon your dates?”

The way she asked made it clear that Y/N had seen Bruce stumble out of the bathroom with the two of them. He also didn’t miss how she emphasized the plural.

“They’ll be fine,” Bruce told her.

He took a step toward her. “Let me give you a ride, Y/N.”

She took in a deep breath.

She knew she needed the ride. Only an idiot would walk home at this time of night, even if the walk to her apartment was a relatively safe one for Gotham standards.

Y/N just nodded.

A minute later, an Aston Martin drove up.

Bruce offered his arm to Y/N and helped her down the stairs before opening the passenger door for her.

He handed the valet a few bills, not even noticing they were all hundreds.

“Where to?” Bruce asked her.

“Oh, umm…” Y/N quickly gave him her address.

“I know you’ve been gone awhile, but you definitely shouldn’t be walking around the streets of Gotham at night.”

Y/N scoffed. “I’m aware. I moved back awhile ago.”

“Oh. I didn’t know…”

“Yeah. Well, why would you? It’s not like you kept in touch.”

The car filled with silence.

Y/N stared out the passenger window, looking at the skyscraper lights of Gotham

It seemed Y/N had no issue with staying silent for the whole car ride.There was nothing awkward about it for her.

But Bruce knew there were things he needed to say. “I’m sorry.”

This was the last thing Y/N expected and her head whipped to him.

But Bruce kept his eyes on the road. “For disappearing like I did.”

Y/N slowly turned back to the passenger window and said nothing.

Bruce didn’t expect to win her forgiveness. He would have to deal with that. But at least he could apologize.

“Y/N.” Bruce said it ever so quietly, like he was forbidden from speaking it. “This isn’t…I’m not…” Dammit. What was he even trying to accomplish right now? “Back there–”

“Back there?” Y/N interrupted his fumbling. “Oh, you mean the threesome you had in a bathroom at a party?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

Everyone bought his performance. Unfortunately, even Y/N.

Bruce pulled over and Y/N realized they were at her building already.

“You can say whatever makes you feel good, Bruce. Have at it.” Then she threw open the car door.

She put her hand on the handle to help herself out.

But she hesitated.

No. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

Y/N spun around to face Bruce, his blue eyes already waiting for her.

“You used to be kind. Strong and brave. You were better than all of them.”

And for the first time, Bruce really saw the damage he had done.

“Is that boy really gone?” She searched his eyes for the answer. “What is the act and what is the truth?” She whispered. “Huh, Bruce?”

He wanted to tell her.

Bruce had never felt the urge to expose his secret ever before.

But right now? Right now, he wanted to take Y/N back to the manor, drag her down to the cave, and show her all of his secrets – every single one.

But he couldn’t. And he knew that.

Bruce kept his face reserved.

His brow furrowed for just a second as he took Y/N in. All of her. Her eyelashes. Her lips. The styling of her hair. The dip of her neck.

“You became quite the woman, Y/N.” He told her. “And a beautiful one at that.”

Y/N blinked at the statement. Her mind desperately tried to decipher the hidden message in his words, in his actions from the night. But she came up with nothing.

She wanted to say that she knew he was using flattery to divert her attention from what she wanted to know. But it was also clear that he genuinely meant what he said as well. His eyes seeming to be taking in every moment of being in her presence.

If Y/N weren’t so irritated, she probably would’ve been more taken aback by his compliment, feeling vulnerable and almost embarrassed.

There wasn’t any point in pushing.

So Y/N took in a breath. “Thank you for the ride, Bruce.”

He just nodded. Then he watched her walk to the door of her apartment building. He probably lingered a few moments too long, but he couldn’t bring himself to once again put distance between them.

————

Alfred brought down food and an espresso to the cave.

When he looked up, Y/F/N Y/L/N’s face was on the giant screen.

“Working on a case, Master Wayne?” He asked with his usual sarcasm.

Bruce ignored the question. “She attended undergrad in Metropolis and then went to grad school in New York City.”

“Yes, I can see that…considering you have her student records exploited all over the screen,” Alfred responded with a smirk. “She’s been living in Gotham again for a few years, working as a psychiatrist. Even volunteers her services at Arkham – pro bono.”

That caught Bruce’s attention. He turned away from the screen to look at Alfred.

“I found no record of that,” he argued.

“Yes. Well, her mother is rather embarrassed by it. Thinks it gives the family a bad image. She insisted Y/N’s philanthropy was kept secret, even approved the NDAs herself.”

Bruce gave him a look, utterly confused how Alfred had access to such information.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Never underestimate the power of gossip, Master Wayne. Most family secrets cannot be found on the dark corners of the internet.” Then he smirked. “You would gain quite the knowledge if you didn’t turn your nose up at it.”

Bruce smiled at that and turned back to the computer.

“So, I take it that it was good seeing her?” Alfred pressed.

Bruce tensed at the question. “Not entirely. I’m certain that she hates me.”

“Hates you or hates the character you’ve so carefully created?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just Bruce Wayne to her.”

Alfred opened his mouth to say more.

“Leave it, Alfred.” Bruce cut off before he could.

“Well, it appears I’m not the one struggling with leaving it alone, Master Wayne.”

Like many of Gotham’s elites, Alfred had humored the idea that Bruce and Y/N would make a marvelous couple. Like Bruce, Y/N didn’t let money and power sway her morals or damage her good and kind heart.

Alfred had always enjoyed having her over and listening to her and Bruce’s laughter as they caused trouble around the manor and entertained themselves.

But he also saw how her departure effected Bruce, no matter how much the teenager had tried to hide it at the time.

Maybe Alfred was an optimist or a romantic, but he still believed there was a chance for the two of them. But Bruce, quite frankly, would have to get over himself and his stubbornness.

————

Bruce was looking down at the city from yet another rooftop. It had been a quiet night. And he hated nights like that. It was always ended up being the calm before a storm.

“Batman?” Alfred spoke into his comms.

“Yes.”

“It appears there’s been a breakout at Arkham. The media hasn’t caught wind of it yet. But law enforcement has already been dispatched.”

“I’m on my way,” Bruce announced as he slid down a fire escape and made his way to the batmobile that he’d hidden in the shadows of an alley.

“Master Wayne…” Alfred knew to only use codenames on comms.

Bruce tense. “What is it?”

There was hesitation from the butler. “Y/N was scheduled to work a shift there tonight…”

Bruce said nothing. But his foot pressed the gas pedal down further than necessary.

—

Y/N was sitting with a patient when the alarm went off.

The people that worked there called them inmates, and corrected her every time she chose not to use that title.

Harleen Quinzel had been sitting across from Y/N for almost 30 minutes when they were interrupted.

“Oh, fun!” Harley clapped and giggled as the sirens filled their ears.

Harley and Y/N had formed an interesting relationship. The criminal seemed to like her and looked forward to her visits. She never threatened Y/N or tried to manipulate her.

Y/N believes she won her over by addressing her as Dr. Quinzel and often asking her professional opinions on trends and news in their industry.

Most people there only referred to Harley as if she was property of the Joker, no matter how many times Harley clarified that she wasn’t his anything anymore.

“Does this happen a lot?” Y/N asked her, trying to remain calm.

“Not enough, if ya ask me!” She laughed.

Y/N made the mistake of opening the door and seeing that the majority of the cells had been opened and prisoners were slowly making their way into the hallway.

“Not good,” Y/N muttered.

“Don’t worry, doc. I’ll protect ya! Us gals gotta stick together.” Harley said from behind her shoulder.

Y/N whipped around and looked at her and then at the table she’d been sitting at. “Dr. Quinzel! How did you get out of your restraints?”

“Oh, I’ve always been able to. I just leave ‘em on to be polite.”

Y/N sighed. No one had explained any sort of protocol for such a situation.

“Where the fuck are all the guards?” Y/N asked.

Suddenly the lights shut off.

“Yippy!” Harley cheered.

Y/N turned to her and softly grabbed her shoulder, but gave her an insistent look. “Harley, we need to get somewhere safe.”

Her face did dip to serious for a moment. “You don’t need to worry about me. But you’re right. Not everyone in here appreciates a shrink…”

To her surprise, Harley starts pulling her through the darkness with a purpose.

Y/N had no idea where she was planning on taking her. It seemed all the doors were in lock-down mode, leaving her stranded. If she survived tonight, she’d definitely be bringing that up to the board.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Y/N yelped at the sound.

Someone had either gotten a hold of a gun or security guards were opening fire.

Either way, it caused chaos to erupt.

Suddenly the dark hallways were being filled with a stampede of prisoners. Either they wanted to take down the guard who was shooting or they were getting an adrenaline rush at the concept of their peers attacking their wardens.

The crowd ripped the two women apart. Y/N was shoved up against the wall and her head slammed against the cement.

Y/N swore under her breath from the pain.

“Is that…No, it can’t be…”

A voice called out over the madness.

A chill went up Y/N’s spine. She’d know that voice anywhere.

The Joker.

He wasn’t one of her patients. All researchers and doctors were forbidden to speak with him – especially after what happened with Harley.

But that didn’t stop the Joker from knowing who Y/N was. He whined and whined about feeling left out. “All my pals get to chat with her and all I get to do is look!”

Now, Joker was free from him isolation.

Y/N suspected he was behind the breakout.

And he was going to make a slight detour. A detour that was doing whatever the hell he wanted to with Dr. Y/L/N.

Y/N didn’t even bother hiding her fear. With a new found strength and endurance, she started shoving her way through the mob.

“I hear you and my pumpkin’ pie have gotten close.” Then his smile dropped. “Too close, if ya ask me.”

Y/N ignored him as another prisoner shoved into her shoulder.

“I don’t appreciate you putting ideas in her head!”

Y/N stopped, realizing she had miscalculated her escape and had come to a dead end.

So she slowly turned around to face him, putting her back to the wall. “And what ideas are those?”

“Independence. Self respect. A life beyond crime and incarceration,” he spat.

Y/N realized he had his goonies flanking him, only making her odds that much worse.

“Those aren’t ideas. They’re a reality, a possible future,” she defended.

Joker didn’t like that answer one bit. He threw himself against her, once again slamming Y/N into the wall.

He gripped her chin roughly and smiled with his yellow teeth. “You know…she’s not the only doctor I’d like to break in. And in more ways than one, if you catch my drift,” he giggled.

Then his eyes raked over her body, up and down. His hands slid down her hips and the side of her legs until they got to the hem of her pencil skirt.

Y/N shoved him away with all of her strength.

But that earned her a slap across the face from him.

Joker gripped her waist tightly pressing her between the wall and his body. “I’m in charge now, doc. And I’ve got a few lessons to teach you.”

His hands grabbed at the buttons of her blouse and with one jerk, he ripped open her her blouse.

But before he could go any further, a few of his lackeys cried out in pain.

Y/N swore she heard the sound of objects whipping through the darkness.

She didn’t want to let herself feel any relief. But she hoped Harley had made her way back to her. She’d probably pack an even heavier punch once she realized Y/N needed protecting from her asshole ex.

But when Joker turned around and Y/N followed his gaze, Harley was nowhere to be found.

Yet three men were on the ground, unconscious.

“Well, well, well,” Joker muttered in amusement. “Has Batsy come out to play?”

Next thing Y/N saw was a shadow dropping down out of nowhere and taking out even more of Joker’s men.

Joker seemed to be prepared for such an interruption. Because he grabbed a knife from somewhere hidden on his body and ripped Y/N off the wall. He pressed Y/N’s back to his chest and put the tip of his knife to her throat.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” Joker sang.

To Y/N’s shock, Batman stepped into what little light was in the hallway.

“Long time, no see!” Joker screamed so loudly that Y/N flinched. “Did you miss me, Batsy? And you came all this way to see little old me?! How very sweet!”

“Your attempted escape was a failure,” Batman stated. “There’s nowhere for you to go. All the exits are blocked. Arkham has been contained.”

“What a shame! I really felt this one was gonna work!” Joker laughed.

Batman took a step toward him. “It’s over, Joker.”

“You’re probably right,” Joker shrugged. “But I really wanted to have some fun with doc here. So, if you could give us some privacy.”

Batman’s eyes flickered to Y/N’s for a brief moment. “Let her go,” he warned.

“How about…no?” Joker laughed.

Just as Batman was about to make his move, Y/N grabbed the wrist of Joker’s arm that held the knife. She twisted it and dived in such a succinct motion that it was obvious Y/N had been trained.

Whipping herself out of Joker’s grip, she twisted Joker’s arm so roughly and quickly behind his back that he had no choice but to drop his knife from the pain.

Then Y/N was now facing him, and with one swift swing of her leg, she kicked him right in the groan.

Batman saw his opening and rushed forward, cuffing Joker in place.

While Batman neutralized him, Y/N stumbled for the knife that Joker had dropped, still not feeling safe and out of danger.

She looked around, realizing that the police had filtered in and apprehended all the escaped prisoners. Some were already locked back into their cells. Other’s were in handcuffs with guns being pointed at them in warning.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” his voice made her whip back around.

How the hell did Batman know her name?

She squinted wearily at him.

“You can drop the knife,” Batman told her quietly.

Y/N blinked and looked down at her hand, having forgotten that she even grabbed the knife. And she now had a vice-like grip on it.

Her hands were shaking when she dropped the knife and the clatter echoed in the hallway.

She eyed the Joker, not trusting any sort of weapon to be in his vicinity, despite being handcuffed now.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Batman noted, as if he could read her mind and hear the concerns she was thinking.

Police officers surrounded them now.

“Until next time, doc!” Joker sang loudly.

Batman stepped between him and Y/N, shielding her from even being seen by the lunatic.

Y/N eyed him, wondering if he did that on purpose.

“This way,” he directed lowly as he led her out of the hallway.

Y/N was surprised when he escorted her all the way out of the building.

Wasn’t this supposed to be Gotham’s Dark Knight? A disappearing act? An urban legend that some people still didn’t believe in?

When they got outside, there were even more officers. The night was flickering blue and red from all the patrol car’s lights still being on.

Commissioner Gordon was having a field day with Arkham’s warden, yelling at him about lack of protocol and no protection for the volunteers and workers that had gotten caught in the crossfire.

But finally, the reality of what just happened was starting to set in for Y/N. And she realized that her entire body was shaking.

All of a sudden, a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders.

She looked up to see that Batman had draped it over her. When and where he’d grabbed it, she had no clue. But the warmth was helping, so she didn’t question it.

“Thank you…for saving me back there.”

Was that a smirk on his lips? Was Batman amused by her?

Why was it so comforting when he was a mere stranger?

And his eyes, even when they were surrounded by a cowl and dark paint, they still felt familiar. Y/N had a similar feeling to deja vu.

“Looked like you had it handled,” he replied.

“Oh, I definitely didn’t. But thank god for those self-defense classes.”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a second.

“Make sure you get checked out by the paramedics,” he told her gently, but insistent.

It was far too gentle for his Batman alter ego. But she caught how it sounded like it personally mattered to him.

Y/N looked behind her, where the ambulance was.

But when she turned back around, Batman was gone.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was being surrounded by two paramedics and Commissioner Gordon who was careful not to push her by asking too many questions at once.

“Does he always do that?” She asked him in a daze.

“Do what?” Gordon asked.

“Disappear like that?”

Gordon smiled and nodded. “Annoying, isn’t it?”

———

“What’s the gossip of the privileged this week?” Bruce asked Alfred at breakfast a few days after the outbreak.

“Something specific you’re looking for, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked as he poured Bruce a big mug of coffee.

Bruce glared at him, knowing he was playing coy with him.

But he put his pride aside. “How is she doing?”

Alfred took pity on him. “She took some time off work. But seems to be handling it better than expected. Makes quite a bit of sense, doesn’t it? Her being psychiatrist and all.”

Bruce just nodded with a dazed look.

“You could always see for yourself…” Alfred added.

Bruce snapped out of his daze and looked up him questioningly.

“You could go see her,” Alfred confirmed.

“Alfred, don’t you start.”

“Start what, Master Wayne? Pushing you to form any sort of relationship?”

Bruce sighed and got up from the breakfast nook. He didn’t want to fight with him, so he’d made his exit before that happened.

“Batman has plenty of friends,” Alfred stopped him. “But what about Bruce Wayne, hmm? Who are his friends?”

“You saying we’re not friends, Alfred?”

“I’m all you’ve got, Master Wayne. And that’s my point.”

Before the discussion could go on any further, the doorbell rang.

The two men shared a look.

No one stopped by the manor.

Alfred made his way over.

Bruce figured he’d wait where he was. But the front entrance was too far away from him to overhear any conversation.

A few minutes later, Alfred walked in with an unreadable expression.

“Dr. Y/L/N is here, Master Wayne. She is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

Bruce opened his mouth to tell him to make an excuse and get her to leave. But Alfred was already disappearing, making it clear that he would do no such thing for him.

When Bruce walked into the drawing room, he found Y/N’s back to him as she looked at the family heirlooms and trinkets that were displayed on the shelved.

She was dressed casually, which caught Bruce off guard since he’d only see her in formal wear and professional outfits since their reunion. Her hair was in a messy bun and she didn’t appear to be wearing much makeup, if any at all.

“Hi,” he greeted softly, making her quickly turn around.

“Hi,” she replied.

Bruce stepped further into the room. But neither of them moved to sit in any of the many seats that surrounded them.

“I heard what happened. How are you doing?” He asked.

She nodded and shrugged. “Alright.”

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Bruce admitted.

Y/N ignored his comment and her eyes went around the room. “I missed this place,” she thought aloud. Then her eyes fell back to his, softening. “I missed you.”

Bruce was taken aback from her confession. Seeing as the last time they were together, she was rather blunt about how disgusted and disappointed in him she was.

The energy between them felt so different than last time.

To his surprise, Y/N stepped toward him. And she didn’t stop until she was at a proximity that most would call rather intimate.

There was a voice in the back of Bruce’s mind, urging him to close the last bit of distance and place his lips on hers. But he managed to ignore it. That didn’t stop his heart from beating faster, though.

Y/N stared into his eyes for a few seconds, almost like she was searching for something.

“I have something that belongs to you…”

Bruce waited, not sure what she could possibly have to give him.

But then she pulled out one of his batarangs from her coat pocket, offering it to him.

She had found it embedded in the wall when she had gone back down to grab her personal belongings that night.

Bruce kept his face composed. “I’m not sure I understand.”

But he grabbed it from her anyways.

“He’s you,” she whispered. “Or I guess…you’re him.”

Bruce let out a breath, “Y/N…”

She took step away from him. “Don’t lie to me, Bruce.”

So he shut his mouth and said nothing instead.

“I’ve been doing some research. Things started lining up,” Y/N explained. “The first Batman sightings were right around when we stopped talking. The more Batman was in the press, the less Bruce Wayne was. And when he was, it was never positive – like it was meant to be a distraction.”

Her eyes went sad. “I never understood how the boy I used to love could grow into the man I’m so disappointed in. It never made sense.” She paused. “But when you wonder if the man himself is the mask, it all fits.”

“I’m sorry.” Bruce hung his head slightly. “I couldn’t tell anyone. Not even you.”

“I’d never share your secret.”

“I know,” he answered instantly.

Y/N couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. Her eyes welled with tears. “Bruce…living like this has its consequences.”

Bruce said nothing.

She stepped forward and grabbed his hand. “You can’t change the world on your own. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Y/N wasn’t giving him advice. She was offering him something.

Her trust.

Her secrecy.

Her love.

He shook his head, but gripped her hand tightly. “You would just end up in the shadows with me. And I…I can’t do that to you.”

“I’m stronger than you think,” Y/N defended.

“I’ve always known how strong you are, Y/N.” His jaw tightened at even the thought of being selfish. “You deserve more than what I can give. Gotham will always come first. That’s the sacrifice I made. That’s what is required. I can’t be what you need.”

Y/N studied his face, knowing that there would be no winning with him.

She nodded once, not even slightly hiding her heartbreak and disappointment.

Then she stepped closer and gave him a slow kiss on the cheek.

“It’s not a one time offer, Bruce.”

Bruce couldn’t move a muscle. He was rooted in place.

He heard Y/N have a short conversation with Alfred, then the door closed, and she was gone again.

———

Bruce Wayne was a fool.

Alfred could probably make a list, in seconds, with a hundred reasons why.

But, no, Bruce Wayne was a fool for believing Y/N would give up so easily.

Two weeks later, Y/N was at Wayne Manor again.

Bruce knew something was going on when Alfred didn’t seem surprised in the slightest.

In one of her arms was popcorn seeds, twizzlers, sour patch kids, and chocolate covered pretzels. In the other arm was a case of beer.

Y/N barely said hi to Bruce as Alfred helped her out of her coat and took the things out of her grasp so she was no longer struggling to hold it all.

“I’m here to use your theater,” she announced.

And with that, she walked right past Bruce like she owned the place.

Bruce looked at Alfred and silently asked, ‘What the hell is going on?’

“I believe you have a guest to entertain, Master Wayne.” Then he looked at the items in his hand. “And I believe I have some popcorn to make.”

Bruce still didn’t move.

“You successfully closed yet another case last night, it’s Friday night, and you have a beautiful woman who decided she wants to spend her time with you. Best you don’t keep her waiting, Master Wayne.”

Bruce narrowed his gaze as if telling Alfred they’d discuss this matter at another time.

“I presume you shouldn’t go empty handed,” Alfred added quickly and handed Bruce two beers from the case in his arms.

Bruce chuckled, but started walking away. “I’m surprised you even let this stuff in the house, Alfred.”

When Bruce reached the theater, Y/N had already started a movie.

He watched her a for a moment before she could realize he'd joined her.

Y/N looked like she belonged there. Even after all this time apart, she just burrowed herself a cozy nook in Bruce’s life.

It was something she had been able to do even when they were kids. When Bruce had his mood swings or his depressive episodes, Y/N didn’t scare. She just found her way to stay at his side without upsetting him further.

Bruce grabbed the seat to the left of hers.

They weren’t really seats, more like small beds. A dozen were placed in the theater.

A couple could easily share one, but Bruce wasn’t planning on even approaching that fine line.

When Bruce sat down, he didn’t look at Y/N. But she gave a shy smile at his joining.

It was a long movie – almost a 3 hour run time.

And Y/N almost made it.

Without only 30 minutes left, Y/N had fallen asleep. Meaning Bruce’s attention was now taken from the movie.

He got up and grabbed one of the many blankets in the trunk hidden in the corner and placed it carefully over her, before silently leaving.

This was not a one time thing.

These type of visits continued.

Bruce knew Y/N and Alfred had to be in cahoots together.

Y/N seemed to always come to the manor when Bruce needed her most.

Alfred would force Bruce out of the cave and moments later, the doorbell would be ringing.

On the bad nights, she wouldn’t make him talk. She wouldn’t ask questions or try to make him magically feel better. Sometimes she would talk – mostly about mundane things. She’d tell Bruce about her day or how her neighbor always left baked goods at her door or about the new show she started watching. Sometimes she wouldn’t say anything at all, just sit there silently and make sure he wasn’t alone.

Sometimes she would bring coffee and pastries.

Sometimes Bruce would just walk into the library and find her reading.

Sometimes she would sit and chat with Alfred as if he was the reason she was visiting, and not Bruce.

Bruce couldn’t sleep one night. Nothing specific was causing his insomnia. Just the overall weight of being so many people.

It was 3AM when Y/N texted him to open the door for her because she didn’t want to wake Alfred.

When Bruce did so, Y/N was standing on the other door in sandals and a slightly transparent coverup that barely showed the outline of the bathing suit underneath.

He said nothing, but his face clearly showed that he wanted to know why the hell she was there in the middle of the night.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Y/N told him quietly. Then she shrugged a bit,“I decided I wanted to go for a swim."

Whether she was lying for his benefit, Bruce wasn’t sure. But he followed her to the indoor swimming pool like a sailor would follow a siren.

Without hesitation, Y/N kicked her sandals off and tossed her coverup on the nearest chair. And the next second, she was diving into the pool.

Bruce smirked at her nonchalance, but made sure to hide it when she breached the surface once again.

“Doesn’t your apartment building have its won pool?” He asked.

Y/N smiled and tilted her head back to get her hair wet again and out of her face. “They put too much chlorine in it.”

Bruce crossed his arms, “I see.”

“Coming in?” She asked teasingly.

He shook his head.

“At least keep me company,” she requested.

Bruce glared playfully at her, knowing the game she was playing.

But he finally sighed and nodded.

He was in cotton shorts and a t-shirt. But he decided to sit on the edge of the pool and dip his feet in.

He watched as she swam around, looking as natural in the water as a mermaid. She had always loved swimming as a kid and it appeared not much had changed.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He finally decided to break the silence.

Y/N swam to him and crossed her arms on the edge of the pool to rest and tilted her head to look at him.

She shrugged, “The usual: stress, nightmares, insomnia, too much caffeine.”

Bruce’s concern spiked instantly. “Nightmares about what?”

She watched him for a moment, seeing how quickly her subtle comment triggered him.

“You’re not the only person who’s seen fucked up things, Bruce.”

An hour later, Y/N asked for a towel.

When she climbed out, she was taken aback by Bruce wrapping it around her shoulders and rubbing her down gently. It was innocent, but subtly intimate.

As their eyes locked for a prolonged time, and he seemed to realize what he’d done accidentally.

Y/N cleared her throat. “I should head home and let you try to get some sleep.”

“You could stay,” he offered. “I mean, we have plenty of bedrooms here,” he quickly added and saved himself a bit.

“Is that…what you want?” Y/N asked slowly.

Bruce knew what she was trying to ask. He didn’t trust himself to answer the way he should, so he didn’t answer.

“Let me drive you home,” he asked as they left the indoor pool and started toward the front entrance.

Y/N ignored the request until they were at the door. She turned to face him with a smug look, “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself. Thank you.”

She hesitated before kissing him on the cheek. “Get some sleep, Bruce.”

————

Months after Y/N’s visits started, Bruce was doing some research for a case on his tablet as he ate dinner.

“Margaret Caulfield’s engagement party is tonight,” Alfred broke the silence of the manor as he took Bruce’s finished plate.

Bruce looked confused on why he was supposed to care.

“Y/N will be there,” Alfred added.

But Bruce still didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“Master Wayne, when you attend all those sufferable parties, what is the first question people ask you?”

Bruce thought for a moment. “When I plan on settling down, I guess.”

“Now imagine that, but magnified by about 100…and that is what Y/N’s experience is at those same parties. That young woman is one of the brightest people in Gotham and all those people care about is who will put a silly ring on her finger.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, now understanding what Alfred was getting at. “I’m not her boyfriend, Alfred.”

“And you’ve made damn sure of that,” Alfred said a little too harshly.

Bruce watched him carefully.

“Y/N has fought off every one of your attempts to be a miserable recluse.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“And don’t you dare try and tell me her efforts are wasted,” Alfred cut him off. “I’ve seen a change in you. And she has asked for absolutely nothing in return. She’d never ask you to pick her over Batman. Though she bloody well should!”

He wasn’t done.

“You’re not living, Master Wayne. And I won’t apologize for wanting more for you.”

Bruce just sat there and took it.

Alfred took in a breath, calming himself down. “There’s a suit waiting for you in your bedroom. I’ve decided I’m going for a evening walk.”

——————

Y/N didn’t know how many more champagnes she’d have to shrug to start feeling the buzz she so desperately needed.

Not even an hour of being at the party and she’s already been asked 15 times if she was seeing anyone. And when she answered no, half of those ended in them trying to set her up with someone.

As Y/N was trying to think of an excuse to escape, an old family friend approached her – a friend of her grandma’s unfortunately.

“Y/N, dear, let me see those hands!”

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes and snap, but she did as requested.

“No ring yet,” the woman teased, but she was also genuinely disappointed.

“That would be my fault, actually.” A voice said behind Y/N before she felt a hand on her lower back.

“Oh, Mr. Wayne, how nice of you to come!” The woman beamed. “Now, Y/N, why wouldn’t you tell anyone that you and Bruce are an item?”

“My fault again,” Bruce chuckled, “I’ve always enjoyed a good secret.”

Before she could ask more, Bruce smiled politely. “If you could excuse us for a moment.”

He steered Y/N to a private area of the party.

“What are you doing?” Y/N hissed at him. “The press are gonna have a field day. You and I will be every headline tomorrow.”

He smiled at her frantic concern.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m serious!”

Bruce captured her lips, silencing any further panic from her.

Y/N was completely caught off guard, but he wasn’t letting her go so easily. And soon, her hand went to the back of his head and she kissed him back.

Damn all the people who were probably watching them.

When Bruce finally let her pull away, he smirked at her dazed look and cupped her cheek.

She matched his smirk.

But then reality set in like a splash of cold water and she frowned.

“Am I – Is this your new cover?” She asked shakily, so scared that the answer was ‘yes.’

She could tolerate being Bruce’s friend for the rest of her life. But she wouldn’t survive being used in such a way. She couldn’t live in a fake relationship with a man she actually loved. She’d rather watch his sloppy persona with girls hanging off of him.

“No cover-up,” he muttered to her. “Just me and you – the real me.”

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

I worked so hard on this 😩 Please let me know your thoughts.

#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #batman reader insert #alfred pennyworth #alfred pennyworth & reader #batman fic #batman universe #dc #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne reader insert #batfam #batboys #batman x you #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne angst #batman angst

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wannabemobwife · 3 years

Text

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas- Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Dressed to the Nines

Dad!Mob!Tom Holland x Mom!Mob!Reader Fanfic

-Pairings: mob! Tom Holland x reader

-Warnings: Language

-Words: 3.9K

Background Info- Tom Holland is boss of his mafia and Y/N Holland, his wife, is former mafia boss turned stay at home mom but still joined Tom on his business trips and meetings. They started dating at 19 and were married at the young age of 21, realizing they only needed each other. They have two kids together, both ages 16, Parker and Rosie Holland.

*Realistically to have two teenagers, Tom and Y/N are both in their mid/late thirties but they look like they are in their mid twenties/late twenties alright. What can I say, they have really good genes. I can guarantee that Tom will still definitely look as gorgeous as he does know in his 30’s.

Author note: I enjoy writing drama, so it’s hard to have constant fluff, mostly angst (I hope, at least what I consider angst). The more times where a character almost dies but doesn’t the better to me. This is my first fanfic, I wrote this story based on being married with kids because that is the part of my life I’m most looking forward to. Heads up but there is tons of dialogue, I find that the most fun to write.

Also I enjoy PDA and a personal goal of mine is to be married for 20 years and still want to jump my husband’s bones so there are a bunch of little hints like that through the fanfic. Sorry if your name is any of the characters, feel free to change them in your mind. I know it’s stupid of me to say that but whatever.

Chapter 1: Dressed to the Nines

Words: 3.9K

You and Tom were a power couple. The Hollands, the ones with the most power and the most dangerous. A king and queen to their empire. Lately you had been tackling married life together and had been raising two kids. A boy named Parker and a girl named Rosie both the same age. But nothing could prepare you for what every parent dreads, their teenage years. All the hormones, mood swings and relationship drama that comes with it.

When both the twins turned 16 it was big turning point in your family. Rights of passage as Tom would say. You and Tom threw a massive gala to celebrate their 16 years of being alive. Tom as the leader of his own mob, money was no object and you coming from the family you did and being a former mafia boss, you both had truly opulent wealth. It was the night of their kids’ sixteenth birthday and everyone was invited from family, friends, business associates and even enemies. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer they would say. Tom and tried to keep as much as possible from your kids, trying to give them a normal childhood. Failing over and over again at that. Some nights Tom would come home bloody from beating up someone who crossed him. Or there would always been strange, bulky, built men surrounding your mansion for protection. It was hard to explain everything to the kids, but it was something they just had to do for family.

The party was about to begin, 7:00 on the dot, and the house was decorated to fit a very elegant yet youthful look. Caterers dressed in white carrying bountiful trays of appetizers. Tom and you adored the luxury of their life, even though they knew if they didn’t have all the materials they did they would be even happier. Their family is what mattered most to them. You were dressed to the nines, in a lace gold gown, with sparkly stilettos on. Her Y/H/C hair gracefully laying one her back, without a strand out of the place. And her Y/E/C eyes were beaming, if looks could kill they would. Tom couldn’t help but admire you.

“You know, it’s rude to gawk,” you said and Tom chuckled.

“I’m sorry but you’re just too beautiful not to,” he responded and placing his hands on your hips.

Rolling your eyes and smirking you said “tonight’s the night.”

“I know, should we do it now?” he questioned as his half smile turned into a frown.

“No, let him have this one more night. Without any obligation,” you had been dreading this night for years.

“Alright, darling,” he said as he kissed softly, he just couldn’t contain himself he

found his other half. The person that makes him want to be a better man. His soulmate.

Like any family there are skeletons in their closets but, the Hollands were a whole another story. Tonight was the night, one they had been dreading for 16 years, to be exact. You and Tom’s son, Parker would be tasked with the most difficult decision of his life. One that will rewrite his story. Tom wishes he would just turn it down and do what he didn’t have the balls to do when he was his age.

The day Tom’s dad brought him into the office, he knew his life would never be the same. Dom, his father and former boss of the Holland empire, made it very clear that if he turned him down, he could forget about being in this family. Tom just knows he won’t give the same ultimatum. Parker being the oldest and only son of Tom and Y/N Holland is the future of their family empire. Parker was quite popular, a playboy actually and very dashing. Wearing a black suit with a black tie and a white shirt he look just like his dad with his brown hair slicked back. Being one of the guests of honor tonight he had to look the part. Slowly made his way to the bar before his mother could find him. Desperately needing some liquid courage, he quickly poured himself a shot of vodka and downed it even faster. However nothing gets past, you, Y/N Holland.

“Parker Jackson Holland!” you fumed, catching her 16 year old son drinking.

“Hey, what’s with the middle naming me, it’s my birthday,” he responded a little startled.

“You should not be drinking, ever. You got two years, mister,” you explained.

“Alright, mum,” Parker sounded annoyed.

“Where’s your sister by the way, party is supposed to start in 10 mins,” you said as she noticed all the guest starting to arrive. A line of people already waiting at the door but everyone knew the Hollands preferred people to arrive fashionably late.

“I don’t know. Having a fit probably. Last I heard was screaming coming from her closet.”

“I’ll go check on her. Your father and I need you sober later. Understood?” You exclaimed.

“Yes, mum.” Parker was a good boy on paper but, enjoyed breaking the rules.

Right as you turned away, Parker then started to pour another shot.

“Don’t even think about it,” you said still walking forward. Parker chuckled and set the shot down.

You went to go check on her daughter. You knocked on the door when she heard something shatter. Rosie may seem timid but she definitely inherited Tom’s anger issues.

“Honey? Is everything alright?” You questioned, startled by the outburst.

“Yeah, mum. I’m sorry,” Rosie muttered seeming frustrated.

“It’s ok, oh honey!” You exclaimed, noticing the tears on her daughter face

“I know, this is stupid,” Rosie whispered trying to hide her tear stained face.

“No, no it isn’t. What’s wrong?” you said, genuinely concerned for her daughter’s well-being.

“I don’t know everything, this dress, my hair, my makeup,” she exclaimed frantically.

“Baby, you look beautiful.”

“Pretty enough that someone would want to dance with me?” Rosie whispered. You were caught off guard that your daughter could ever have thoughts like that.

“Yes of course, you are always gorgeous.” You hated seeing your baby girl beat herself up based on her looks.

“Thanks mom, I have a question?” You just nodded in response.

How did you get dad to fall in love with you?” Rosie asked inquisitively.

“Um, I guess was just myself. I didn’t put on a facade and I was very honest and transparent with him,” you answered a little taken back from the question.

“You were yourself? I find that hard to believe. From stories I’ve heard you seemed to be bold, brave and beguiling” said Rosie with a hint of sarcasm.

“Am I not those things now?” You asked, cheekily.

“No you are, just in a different way.”

“Honey, whoever you are trying impress, will love for who you are, ok?” You couldn’t stand seeing her daughter like this.

“Alright. Can you help me with my makeup?” Rosie asked because her previous makeup had been ruined by her miniature breakdown

“Yes, of course.”

Back at the party Tom was making his way around saying hello to almost everyone. He desperately needed to find his son. Tom’s and Parker’s relationship was interesting to say the least. As babies and toddlers Tom was there. He loved his kids so much but as they grew older they only noticed the times he wasn’t there. Only the missed recitals and football games, never all times that had dinner as a family and he tucked them in to bed at night. Parker is closer to his mother and his twin sister. Never really having that man to man talk with his dad yet. The time when fathers stop seeing their sons as boys and look at them as men. Tom approached Parker sitting there with his a drink in his hand, he hoped was a watered down Pepsi.

“Hey Parker, did your mom talk to you already?” Tom asked, not trying to raise too many questions.

“No, she might have mentioned something,” Parker responded.

“Ok, well after cake meet me in my office.” Parker nodded in response and noticed how he tensed a little at the conversation.

Their chat quickly ended when Harrison and his 16 year old son Henry came to wish happy birthday. Harrison is Tom’s right hand man, his consigliere and his best friend. He was more than that, Harrison was family. Harrison’s son, Henry was best friends with Parker and Rosie, ever since birth.

“Hey mate,” Tom said to his best friend Harrison.

“Hey, just came to wish this guy “happy birthday”” he said patting Parker’s shoulder.

“Happy birthday, dude” Henry said to Parker and he returned with subtle “thank you’s.” Parker slightly nodded to his dad to see if he could leave the conversation and Tom let him know it was ok.

“Come on, let’s go,” Parker exclaimed making his way to den where his other friends were.

Harrison was the first to speak up, “Have you told him yet?”

“No, Y/N and I are going to do it tonight” Tom uttered with a low toned voice.

“Geez, do you need me there?” Harrison asked, afraid Tom might say yes. Harrison was there when Tom went through the same process with his dad. Tom’s anger issues didn’t help the outcome.

“I think I’m alright, just family. Not that I don’t consider you family but I don’t even know if Rosie should be there.” Tom justified.

“It’s alright mate, I get it.”

They were both enjoying their night, making their rounds, Tom and Harrison went to get drinks, not beer this time but a scotch on the rocks as this was a classy night. Everything was dandy up until one of Tom’s men, William, came up to him informing Tom of a problem.

“Sir we have a problem,” William whispered to Tom, Tom nodded for them to follow them to his office.

“William, what now? Can’t you see I’m enjoying the party?” Tom exclaimed, closing the doors to his office.

“Sir, Daniel, was found dead at his post outside, shot by a tranquilizer gun, with a note taped to his chest, it’s for you.” William announced and handed the paper to the most important and dangerous man of the mob, his boss.

“What the fuck?” A long silence stayed in the air while Tom processed the news. Awkwardness had filled the entire room as they all awaited Tom’s response.

“For fucks sake, you need at least 3 guards posted outside. NOW!” He screamed as his anger continued to rise as read the note.

“Yes, Sir.” William said promptly.

“God forbid anything else happen tonight, but my wife and kids are the first ones to be escorted to safe house. Understood?” Tom explained as he only was only thinking about his family in that moment.

“Yes, Sir.” William said and quickly ran out before he could get the brunt of Tom’s upcoming outburst. Right on cue, Tom threw a glass ashtray at the wall, it shattering into shards.

“Calm down mate, what did the note even say.” Harrison asked with a worrisome look on his face. Tom showed Harrison the joy and his smile faded immediately. Tom for the first time, in a while, felt fear because he knew he had everything to lose.

Not wanting to deal with the life long headache that is his life. He looked for solace in, you, his wife as he spotted her over by the fireplace and made his way over to you.

“Have told you look stunning tonight?” He said instantly falling in love with you over again.

“Several times actually,” you said.

“Well I can’t help what you do to me, gorgeous.” He said placing a kiss to your temple.

“Hey, have you had the talk with him yet?” You said pointing a finger at your son getting very intimate with some girl.

The girl was Charlotte Owens. Parker and her had been together for almost a year, but you and Tom hadn’t met her formally yet. Your son was very tight-lipped the it came to his private life. She was tall, fair and had platinum blonde hair along with piercing blue eyes. Rosie didn’t seem to like her very much, constantly annoyed by her popularity status and reputation, used to be known for being with a new guy every couple weeks and don’t put it past Rosie to not give her the benefit of the doubt.

“No, remember we’re going to do it tonight. Is something wrong?” He said with concern, worried why you would forget something so important.

“No, not that talk, silly, “The talk”,” you responded. His lips formed an “o” shaped as he realized he would have to teach his son about how to be safe during sex.

“Oh, no. I’ve been avoiding it for as long as possible.”

“Why baby, you’re so good at it. You could give him a few a pointers.” You said, winking at him.

“Wow, love, you surprise me everyday. Speaking of beautiful girls, where’s Rosie. I’ve haven’t seen her all night,” Tom quickly trying to change the subject as they were at a party.

“I saw her a few minutes ago,” you said as a puzzled look grew on her face.

“Come on, let’s go find her and maybe you and I can sneak off for awhile.” He said cheekily.

“Tommy,” you whispered but eventually agreed. Slowly making your way out of the main ballroom to the secret garden next to his office.

Walking very slyly, you both made your way to secret spot near Tom’s office. Where ivy had grown throughout the brick and purple and yellow tulips lined the fence along with giant trees. There was a little wishing fountain that Tom had installed when you moved in, this was their secret spot. One where they could forget about all the violence and responsibility that tainted their lives.

Their intimate moment was ruined when Rosie walked by with some random guy named Connor, not the person she’d hope to bring there. All throughout the night Rosie seemed to be jealous of the attention her crush was getting at the party as he didn’t pay attention to her. Thus, she went find a distraction of her own.

“Oh hey, shh, look two people getting it on over there,” he whispered to her as she dragged him outside.

“Please don’t be my brother.” She murmured but felt like she wanted to throw up when she saw who it was.

“Mom, dad?” Rosie screamed.

“Oh shit, we’ve been busted,” Tom muttered against your neck.

“Hey honey,” You said while Rosie was completely mortified. Rosie’s potential hookup stood there mouth wide open.

“That’s your mum, god, she’s a babe.” Connor said.

“Connor, not helping.” Rosie exclaimed sternly as she pinched his side.

Tom spoke up, “Why don’t you guys go back and enjoy the rest of the party.”

Rosie just nodded and left as fast as humanly possible. She never wants to be that embarrassed again.

“Oh my god, we were gonna get it later.” You said.

“I know, we really screwed up this time. But have you had “the talk” with her yet,” Tom asked.

“Nope, we should both really get on that. What would I’ve happened if they hadn’t caught us?” You asked jokingly.

“I don’t want to think about that Y/N! She’s our daughter.” Tom exclaimed.

“Neither do I.”

“Enough of this, where were we?” Tom interjected immediately changing the subject.

“Well you lips were on my neck and you hand was on my waist, but I think the moment has passed and we should get back to the party,” you said rather seductively.

“Fine, I know you’re right. But fuck, I just want to make out with my wife,” Tom muttered frustratingly.

“Well you can later... in bed.” Winking as you chuckled.

“Man, that kid was right, you are a babe.”he said as he slapped your ass as you walked in front of him chuckling.

“Is it time for cake?” Harrison asks as he came up to Tom and you.

“I think it is.” Tom said and you nodded. Walking towards Rosie, who was desperately trying to erase her self from existence because of the embarrassment she’d experienced a minute ago.

“Hi, honey. Can you please go find your brother? We are going to cut the cake.” You said trying not to accidentally bring up the elephant in the room.

“Alright, fine,” Rosie muttered still a little peeved finding you and Tom like that. Rosie searched high and low for Parker.

Needing some assistance she asked Henry. “Hey, have you seen my brother?”

“Last I saw he was taking Charlotte to the green house” Henry responded.

“Alright, come on, let’s go find them” Rosie said rolling her eyes. Her hand slipped into Henry’s as she led the way. Making their way through the vast yet gorgeous yard. Rosie and Henry found Parker and Charlottes lips entangled together and bodies in a compromising position in the green house

“For fucks sake, how many people am I going to find sucking face at this party.” Rosie yelled, startling Charlotte and Parker.

“What the fuck do you want, Rosie? Can’t you see I’m busy.” Parker quipped annoyingly.

“Mom and dad want to cut the cake” Rosie responded.

“Ugh fine. Give us 10 mins” knowing he will be finished in that time.

“No, you can fuck your bimbo of a girlfriend later.” Rosie said, receiving a grimace from Charlotte.

“Don’t you fucking talk about her like that! Fuck off!” Parker yelled as Henry and Rosie left. Both of the kids had inherited Tom’s angry side.

“Well, you can explain to mom and dad you were late because you were balls deep in in your whore,” Rosie said walking away.

The moments leading up to the end of Parker’s innocence were fleeting. In more ways than one. He wasn’t a virgin even before that evening but, Parker could imagine the task he was supposed to accomplish. The 3 tier chocolate raspberry ganache cake had been cut and distributed to the guests. Happy birthday had been sung to Rosie and Parker. Parker tried to go off with Charlotte again, but Harrison stopped him and brought him to the Tom’s office.

“They’re in there,” Harrison whispered.

“Who?” Parker asked Harrison who was like his uncle.

“Just go,” Parker opened the door to see his mother and his dad sat behind the desk. The door shut behind him.

“Mom? Dad? What’s going on here?” Parker hesitated.

“Son, sit down,” Tom said, knowing this wasn’t going to be easy.

“We have to talk to you.” You interjected.

“Parker, as part of this family, there are certain responsibilities you have to take. It is a tradition in our family that at the age of 16, the sons are brought to light about the dealings of our family and what is expected of you,” Tom said as Parker grew wary. Not really understanding what his parents were trying to convey.

Throughout his entire life, he had his suspicions about his family. Wondering why men followed them everywhere, even on trips to the store for eggs. Why his parents went to work but have never seen their office, only heard it referred to as “the warehouse.” Why everything was always so damm secretive. Scared if he accidentally let some enormous family secret slip with his big mouth there would be repercussions. Never not scared of the harm that could come to his family.

“Your father, is the leader of a very powerful mob. I am part of it too, not just as wife but as his partner. There will be day when he will longer be in position of boss and you will take over,” you asserted playing off of Tom’s words.

“Our family is not only the owners of one of the world’s richest exporting company, we also do business with casinos and own multiple hotel chains. Sometimes our work brings us above the law, but the connections we have are what keep us alive.” Tom explained trying to preserve his son’s innocence.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Parker stuttered.

“Because it is time. Time for you to step up and take your place in this family. You’ve had 16 years of juvenile fun and now this is what has to be done.” Tom concluded.

“What if I don’t want this life. You don’t think I don’t know what happens behind closed doors here. All the times dad has come home with a black eye or blood on his knuckles. Why fuck isn’t Rosie here? She is the same age as me, WE ARE TWINS! Why am I the only one who has to do this. I don’t want to kill for sport like you and mom!” Parker screamed. He couldn’t handle this anymore. There was too much information he had to process.

“Do not raise your voice at your mother! Tom screamed.

“Dad, I had dreams and hopes. I wanted to go to college and travel. Find a nice girl and marry her. Experience the kind of love you and mom have. What you are asking me to do, flushes all that away. You are asking me to give up on my life.

So that’s it, I don’t have a choice,” Parker begged.

“Baby, you have a choice. Nothing is set in stone,” you said rubbing his arm.

“Y/N, you damm well know what will happen if he turns this down,” Tom yelled.

“Maybe this life works for you two, but I don’t want this kind of life. My answer is no. Find someone else.”

“Parker, you know I can’t do that. Take a couple days and think about it” Tom answered trying to stay calm.

“NO DAD! My answer is final, I’m not going to be your apprentice to carry on this heinous family legacy!” Parker exploded. It was too much.

“If you aren’t willing to do what is asked of you, then you can forget about being in this family!” Tom screamed. He did exactly what he said he wouldn’t, he gave his son an ultimatum. Parker couldn’t handle it anymore and left. Needing to forget about the fact he no longer had a say. He was stuck.

It was just Tom and you sitting in the study. They couldn’t understand where the conversation had gone. All their hopes for tonight went out the window along with potted plant Tom threw when Parker stormed out.

“Tom, you can’t force him. You can’t do what your father did to you to him.” You tried to say in a loving tone but it came out as stern.

“IM NOT, Y/N!!!” Tom screamed. He had fucked up. The words spoken tonight have rewritten his relationship with his son.

“Alright.” You whispered trying to calm your fuming husband down.

“I’m sorry I raised my voice, baby.” Tom’s tone immediately changed once he heard the softness of your voice. You just nodded in response

“Tommy?” You asked hoping Tom was now ok.

“Yes, love” Tom said.

“He’ll come around. I can promise you that.”

“I know, darling. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what?” a look of confusion grew on your face.

He handed you a paper, the same one that was found on Daniel’s body, saying “Eclipsing of the Hollands. Let the show begin. Better watch your back.”

It was threat. A play to eventually be made on his life or the life of his family and you all had no idea who was behind it.

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas Series Masterlist

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #Dad!Mob!Tom Holland #Mob!Tom #mobster #Mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom x reader

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skzsauce01 · 3 years

Text

Matters of the Head and Heart

Synopsis: Mechanical hatmaker Mr. Felix Lee finds himself being charmed by your flirtatious antics towards him. However, you being an upper class young lady means nothing will come out of it. Right? Steampunk-ish AU set in 1850s Victorian London. Historical accuracy not guaranteed.

Warning: none

Word Count: 13.1k

Pairing: fem!reader x hatmaker!Felix

Mr. Felix Lee, having been an apprentice and a hatmaker for several years, is no stranger to the odd request or so, but the one he receives today is by far the most peculiar.

“A tea party?” he repeats. He eyes the cream colored envelope you delicately hold out before him, still trying to comprehend the unusualness of it all. “And I’ve been invited?”

“Yes, Mr. Lee,” you say with a smile. “It’s a short notice, I understand, but the hostess would be delighted if you attended.”

He elects to stall for time while he makes sense of it. Why is he invited? Surely, it is unheard of for a hatmaker to partake in a ladies’ tea party. “If I might ask, who is the hostess?”

“A good friend of mine, Miss Shin. She is quite the hat enthusiast and has been inquiring about the designer of my mechanical blooming rose one.”

“That would be me, I suppose,” he dumbly says. He remembers the challenge of your headdress. The flower petals were meticulously arranged and joined together so that they would furl and unfurl. It was quite the endeavor to craft, so he can hardly blame Miss Shin for wanting to learn more. He takes the envelope from you and sets it down on the counter, accepting the invite. “Who else has been invited?”

“She would not tell me about the others, but I think she’s planning her debut ball soon.”

Felix sagely nods. A young lady’s coming out into society is a grand affair, and Felix has heard the stories from fellow craftsmen about the intricacies demanded. If he’s fortunate, maybe Miss Shin, apparent hat enthusiast, will order something from him. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Nothing else, I’m afraid. Good day.” You curtsy and turn to leave, your wide skirts brushing against the sides of a display table.

Felix is feeling rather bold after all that, so he asks the back of your dress, “Will I see you there?”

You look back, lips curled upward in a small smile. It’s different from your typical ones, more playful and less guarded. The downward tilt of your chin is almost seductive, and Felix is doing his best not to turn scarlet. Some of his customers have flirted with him before, but you have never done so so blatantly. He wonders why you are acting coquettish now. Perhaps he merely hopes you are.

“Of course. Who else would introduce you to her?”

The front door of his shop swings shut, leaving him alone again. It is then that Felix realizes how inappropriate the entire situation was. You, an unmarried young lady, had no chaperone with you.

Felix swiftly returns to his latest piece of work to distract himself. He will not say a word about what occurred, but it does not mean that he is not flustered by it. It does not help that the cornflower blue fabric of the silk ribbon he holds matches your skirt perfectly.

The next morning, Felix arrives at a predicament: what does one wear to a tea party if one has never been to such an event before? After much deliberation and a chat with his elderly neighbor, he decides on his Sunday best despite the day being Saturday. He hangs up a sign in the window of his shop stating that he is closed and begins the walk to Miss Shin’s residence.

Unfortunately, the journey is more arduous than he expects as her home is well outside the city. The vast, open countryside is a stark contrast to the cramped buildings Felix is used to, so he spends most of his time admiring the greens and browns of around him. The scenery is the only pleasant part of his day thus far. His newly polished black boots are dusty from the dirt path he walks on, and there is a thin layer of perspiration on his face.

Sometime in the midmorning, a horse-pulled wagon passes by him, and the occupant facing the back calls out to him in a decidedly ungentlemanly fashion when he sees Felix.

“Sir in the blue coat! Mr. Lee, is that you?” he shouts as he stands up while the wagon is still being driven. “It is! Mr. Yang, stop the cart.”

The wagon slows to a stop, and the loud gentleman waves Felix over. “Mr. Lee! It’s Mr. Han Jisung! Would you like a lift?”

Felix graciously accepts his offer and sits at the back with him. He then greets both men with a nod. Jeongin, the poor driver who looks like he is still half asleep, urges the horse forward.

“Are you heading to Miss Shin’s as well?” Felix asks. Mr. Han is a renowned dressmaker known for his use of mechanical moving elements in his designs, which now that Felix thinks about, is similar to his own specialty. If Miss Shin desires a grandiose debut dress, Mr. Han is the one to order from.

Mr. Han nods and pulls an envelope from his coat. It is the same cream colored one Felix has tucked away in his own, the only difference being the name of the individual being addressed on the front. “I’ve made a few things for her before, but this is the first time she’s invited me to her home. And for a tea party of all things! Have you been to her home before?”

“No. She has never ordered from me either. A friend of hers gave me the invite.” Mr. Han ponders over this for some time, and Felix adds, “Her friend believes that Miss Shin is planning her debut ball soon.”

Mr. Han snaps his fingers at the news and nods. “That must be it! She does enjoy extravagant gowns, and your hats would go well with my designs. The singing bird one in your window is astounding! I ought to make something to go with it.”

Felix, thrilled at such a compliment from a man renowned for his mechanical prowess, smiles proudly. For the rest of the way, they talk about other inconsequential things like the weather and the traveling play troupe.

Soon, they arrive at their destination. The conversation quickly dies away once they take in the estate. Miss Shin has no title, yet her family’s home is fit for a duke or even a king. The exterior paint is a blinding white, not a trace of soot anywhere despite there being a carefully hidden coal burner at the side of the mansion. The front door boasts of a large brass knocker and stained glass cutouts, while the front gardens have a large fountain as a centerpiece.

Mr. Han speaks, or rather whispers, first. “This is certainly a sight.”

“I would say so.”

The driver parks his wagon, dilapidated and shabby compared to the gleaming carriage by the entrance, a short distance behind the carriage. Felix and Mr. Han hop off the wagon while Mr. Yang drives the horse to the stables, also magnificent in their own right. As they walk to the front door, the carriage door opens and out steps another familiar face. Felix and Mr. Han raise their top hats and bow to you, and you curtsy once your footman has helped you down. Your chaperone, who was absent yesterday, follows, and Felix and Mr. Han greet her as well. Felix averts his eyes in an attempt to rid himself of the memory.

“Mr. Lee,” you say. “And you are Mr. Han, I believe? Miss Shin talks at great length about your designs. I’ve been meaning to buy one myself.”

Mr. Han beams at this and holds his arm out for you as your small group approaches the stairs. When you take it, Felix feels a twinge of envy. Instead, he offers his arm out to your chaperone, who also takes it.

A butler, an automaton of the latest model, guides the guests to the garden out back where the party is occuring. Felix cannot help but admire the clever design of the large clock in the foyer and decides he ought to make a clockwork hat soon. The garden, lush with more greenery and sweet scented flowers, has a round table topped with empty plates and pots of tea. The young lady wearing a large brimmed hat with dangling gemstones must be Miss Shin. A hat enthusiast indeed.

You let go of Mr. Han’s arm and head to embrace her. “Ryujin! It’s so nice to see you again!” You turn back and gesture at the two men who accompanied you inside her home. “You know Mr. Han of course, but this is Mr. Lee, the hatmaker you have been inquiring about.”

Felix bows to Miss Shin. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Shin.”

“And you, Mr. Lee. Come, have a seat.”

After the guests take their places — Felix happily notes that you take the seat across from his — Miss Shin signals the automaton waitstaff to begin bringing out the food and pours tea for everyone. There are small tea cakes, finger sandwiches, and other morsels of food that seem too delicate to eat. You make light conversation about how lovely everything is, and Mr. Han agrees. For the next few minutes, there is idle small talk about the garden while the craftsmen impatiently wait for Miss Shin to address why she has invited them to her party. Mr. Han, however, asks before she says anything.

Miss Shin is not perturbed by this. In fact, she smiles broadly at the opportunity. “My debut into society will occur in the upcoming season, and I intend to have a spectacular one. You two gentlemen design the most exquisite clothes, and I need something unlike anything the world has ever seen.”

Felix glances over to see your reaction about being correct, but your face is hidden by a porcelain tea cup. When he checks to see his Mr. Han’s reaction, it is similar to his — expectant and excited for a challenge.

“You will all be paid handsomely, of course,” she offhandedly adds. “No expense will be spared.”

“Did you have something in mind?” Mr. Han asks.

“A theme of royal blue and brass,” she dramatically says, waving her lace gloved hands in the air. “I confess, Mr. Han, I was so enamored with the evening gown you made last season that I decided I wanted something like it for my debut ball.”

Felix has nary an idea what she is referring to, but he assumes it is a work of art. On the other hand, you’re nodding your head in agreement.

“Oh, yes. Everyone at the party thought it was divine!”

Miss Shin picks up her tea cup and primly holds it to her lips. “Mr. Han, Mr. Lee: are you interested?”

“Yes,” Felix immediately replies, of which Mr. Han echoes.

“Perfect. I trust that you both will create something magnificent. But enough business talk. For now, please enjoy yourselves.”

The conversation about her debut’s details lasted less than five minutes. However, they defer to Miss Shin’s request. Felix awkwardly sips his Darjeeling tea while Mr. Han selects a pistachio tea cake.

More compliments to the garden and food are made, and it becomes apparent that there is not much else appropriate to chat about. Felix and Mr. Han are both already uncomfortable, and the chaperones and mechanical waitstaff surrounding the table only exacerbate their unease. Despite Felix’s feelings though, attending the tea party is not all terrible. Not only does Felix receive a commission from who he finally realizes is the daughter of the illustrious Shin Industries, he is allowed to spend some time with you. You are jovial and are able to elicit a few laughs from everyone with your humor. Felix adds upon your jokes and turns a pleasant shade of pink when you chortle at his pun.

By midafternoon, the party closes to an end. Felix graciously thanks Miss Shin for the invite and tells her that he will do his utmost best to create a stunning headdress for her. When the butler arrives to escort them to the front entrance, Felix purposely walks slower to be near you.

“I must thank you for your interest in my designs,” he says. “This is quite the opportunity. Without you, I do not think I would have been here today.”

You shake your head. “She would have found out about you anyway. She’s always on the lookout for latest fashions and innovations, so I was surprised that she hadn’t discovered you before I did.”

You are fast approaching the door; Felix remembers the large clock in the front room. Mr. Han is walking quicklier than Felix prefers, so Felix only has a few seconds to come up with something else to say.

“Will you be needing a new headdress for the ball?” he asks.

“Possibly. Of course, I will come to your shop if I find that I do.”

Felix holds out his arm for you to hold as you head down the stairs. Your hand is gloved, and his coat is thick, but it feels as if your bare skin is touching his.

“I look forward to it,” he says.

Right before you step into the carriage, you flash him yet another coquettish smile that makes him flush. “As do I.”

Your chaperone, an austere lady with a high necked dress, arches an eyebrow at this exchange but says nothing. The last Felix sees of you is the long skirt of your cornflower blue gown disappearing into the carriage.

“Mr. Lee, would like a ride back to the city?” Mr. Han asks, jolting Felix out of his thoughts.

“That would be wonderful.”

The journey back is filled with discussion about Miss Shin’s requests. Mr. Han describes the mysterious evening gown: a vision of royal blue silk, lace trimmings, and brass and phosphorus star-like ornaments. Felix realizes that you and Miss Shin share similar tastes for themed clothes. He tells Mr. Han of this, and Mr. Han gives him a sly look.

“If I may be so forward, do you fancy Miss L/N?”

Felix grows hot and directs his gaze to the countryside. “She is merely a customer of mine.”

“Of course, my mistake," he replies, though his tone implies it is anything but.

Fortunately, Mr. Han does not push the topic any further and mercifully changes the subject to decreasing prices of velvet. Felix inwardly sighs in relief.

Several days later, Felix is in the midst of his work when his shop swings open. When he hears the noise, he pushes his tools to the side and replaces the intense scowl with a pleasant smile.

"Welcome! How may I be of service?"

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lee," the young lady greets. She pushes the brim of her gemstone hat back. "I've just had the most wonderful idea for my hat, and I need you to bring it to life!"

Miss Shin has quite the eccentric style, and her grand idea exemplifies it. After a trip to the newfangled aquarium exhibit at the conservatory, she has decided on an oceanic theme for her debut ball and wants an “octopus” upon her head. Felix has no idea what that is.

"It’s a fascinating thing with eight arms. I hear they also call it the devil fish, though it is more devil than fish.”

Miss Shin’s chaperone nods in agreement and shudders at the mention of it. On the other hand, Miss Shin herself seems enamored with such a creature.

“I will do my best. Are your chosen colors the same?”

“Yes. The royal blue will nicely lend itself to the theme.” She sighs dreamily, and Felix wonders how deeply she has thought about this.

“It sounds marvellous. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Not today, but perhaps another time.” She glances back at the door momentarily. “I must go to Mr. Han about this. I’ll be sure to come with payment for it next time. Goodbye, Mr. Lee.”

“Goodbye, Miss Shin.”

The store is quiet again. Instead of picking up his tools, Felix grabs his stovepipe hat from its hook and heads to the local conservatory to get a glimpse of the octopus Miss Shin spoke so earnestly about.

It is indeed as fascinating as she made it out to be. The gears in his head begin to turn.

The following day, Felix spends the late afternoon at Mr. Han’s shop to discuss Miss Shin’s requests. Mr. Han is also amused by the prospect.

“She asked for an octopus-like gown as well,” he remarks. “Have you seen one before?”

“Just yesterday I visited the aquarium. It’s like a balloon with many strings.”

Mr. Han snorts the comment. “How accurate. Are odd creatures the fashion nowadays?”

Before Felix can answer — “I’m not sure, but Miss Shin seems to dictate trends than follow them” — the bell on the shop door rings, indicating someone has come in. Felix stops leaning against the wall and straightens up to greet the person. Upon doing so, he recognizes that said person is you.

You look just as surprised as he is. “Oh, Mr. Lee! Hello. I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“Good afternoon, Miss L/N,” he says, bowing. He adjusts his hat to better hide his warming ears.

Mr. Han stands up from behind the counter and smiles broadly. “Miss L/N, Miss Wang,” he says, referring to your chaperone, who seems pleased to be acknowledged. “Are you here for a dress?”

“Yes. I’ve been waiting all week to come here. But just something simple though.”

Mr. Han’s “simple” designs are still far more extravagant than the gowns sold by typical dressmakers, but they seem to be your taste. Felix pretends to be preoccupied by the mechanical doves flying about the skirt of an unfinished dress while you select something from Mr. Han’s inventory. Your constant humming and deliberation make it difficult for him not to be distracted. He sneaks a glance at you, and you are browsing through the dress forms with interest. A delighted smile appears on your face each time you discover the hidden mechanical details embedded in the fabric.

“I think this one will do,” you say, stopping at a lilac walking dress with small turning gears in place of buttons.

While Mr. Han carefully wraps and packages the gown for you, Felix hovers by the counter, wishing that he had something clever to say. The weather is dull and unimaginative, the current traveling play troupe in town has been discussed to death, and the tea party from last week is old news.

“Have you seen an octopus before?” he blurts out, forgoing a transition. He regrets his decision when he realizes how impolite it is. He thinks he hears Mr. Han stifle a laugh at his eagerness.

To his relief, you don’t seem to care. “Oh, yes! I visited the exhibit at the conservatory a few days ago and saw one up close. A frightening but intriguing beast.”

“It is.” He’s running out of words now. Mr. Han seems to be spending a lengthy amount of time tying twine.

“What did you think of it?” you ask, oblivious to Felix’s increasing internal panic. “I assume you have seen one by your words.”

If he didn’t fancy you before, he does now. “Intriguing as well. And inspiring. It’s unlike anything I have ever seen.”

“Should I expect an octopus hat for sale soon?” you teasingly say. “I imagine you would be able to make something spectacular. You are quite the inventor.”

Your chaperone makes a noise of disapproval at your blatant flattery and possible flirting. “Miss L/N, I believe it is time for us to go. Now.”

You take your parcel from Mr. Han and thank him. To Felix, you grin and say, “I look forward to the hat.”

“Miss L/N, that is enough.”

You bid the two men goodbye and follow your chaperone out the door. Felix hears you grumble, “Fei, you are not very fun.”

When the door shuts, Mr. Han turns to Felix with a satisfied expression. “You’re welcome, by the way. What a shame Miss Wang interrupted.”

“I haven’t a clue what you’re referring to,” Felix says, a pleased blush spreading across his cheeks. There’s no denying that he enjoys being on the receiving end of your advances, no matter how much he pretends he doesn’t notice them. “I think it is best that I go now as well. To start on the drafting process.”

“Oh, you have an idea? What is it?”

Felix describes it to him, detailing the waving tentacles he has envisioned and the way they could be coiled into Miss Shin’s hair if she wished. Mr. Han looks impressed by his ingenuity and ponders over the design like he’s considering something similar.

“I’ll let you take your leave,” Mr. Han says. He unrolls some more length of butcher paper onto the counter and picks up his pencil. “You’re not going to chase after her, are you?”

“I wouldn’t do such a thing!”

Mr. Han nods, clearly not believing him. “Alright then. I hope your plan goes well. Good day, Mr. Lee.”

“Good day.”

True to his word, Felix heads back to his shop and does not run after you. He leaves the ‘CLOSED’ sign hanging in the window and heads to his work surface to begin the calculations for Miss Shin’s headdress. However, even with such an important task at hand, his mind still drifts to you.

He wonders why he is so easily tempted by your flirting. Yes, you are pretty, but beauty alone has never made his heart beat nearly as quickly as it does when he is around you. Your natural charm borders on brazenness sometimes, but he doesn’t detest it. To be honest, it’s refreshing in an era where everyone’s advances are supposed to be reserved and ambiguous.

He realizes he has answered his own question.

With a soft sigh, he returns to his sketches, each curve of his drawings reminding him of your carefree smile. He fancies you. He fancies you a lot.

As midwinter approaches and the beginning of the season begins, Felix’s shop is flooded with customers wanting new hats. Somehow, word has gotten out among the upper class about the new hatmaker with fine craftsmanship and one-of-a-kind designs. Most of his finished products are snatched up, and several people ask about placing future orders. He takes a select few; after all, he has another very important project that needs to be done.

He asks Mr. Han if he has experienced this wave of new business as well, to which Mr. Han says something similar happens to him every season.

“You’re a new face, so it’s natural,” he assures. “I imagine Miss Shin’s upcoming ball has much to do with it as well.”

Felix does not fully understand Mr. Han’s remark until Miss Shin stops by with her payment days later. She gives him a little more than necessary, but when Felix tries to hand the remainder back, she waves it off, citing it as a gesture of her appreciation.

With more cheer than before, Felix shows Miss Shin the progress he has made on her headdress so far: tentacles that trail down the back, moving pieces that make it appear the arms are waving, and glowing phosphorus eyes. Miss Shin marvells over each element and declares it spectacular. Then she pulls an envelope from her reticule and presents it to Felix, who stares at it not unlike he did weeks ago to a similar piece of stationery.

His name is clearly written on the front, but he hesitantly asks, “It is for me?”

“Yes. An invitation to my debut.”

You will certainly be there as a member of Miss Shin’s court, and if he goes, then…

Perhaps a dance? A chat? His mind spins with possibilities. However, he’s more concerned about why he’s being invited to such a high-class affair as a hatmaker.

“Pardon me, but why am I invited?”

“In case of mechanical errors. I can’t have the day spoiled because of something like that. Not that I expect it to,” she hastily adds after seeing Felix’s affronted expression. “Mr. Han has been invited for the same reason. It’s simply a precaution.”

“I see.”

“A few of my friends are asking about you as well. Besides,” she slyly adds, “you’re a young, eligible gentleman. I’m sure someone will be delighted with your presence.”

Felix nods slowly as if he is thinking it over. Is she talking about you? He certainly hopes so. “Thank you for the invite. Is there anything else I can assist you with?”

“Just sure to attend my debut. Anyway, I must be on my way now. Good day, Mr. Lee.”

“Good day.”

She and her chaperone head for the door. Once they are out of sight, Felix breaks the seal on the envelope and notes the date of the party: nearly a fortnight away. No matter his previous apprehensions about it, he is going to attend. He would be a fool not to.

The ball is in a week’s time, and Felix has spent the past few days and nights putting the finishing touches to the octopus headdress. It is done now, nary a mechanical error or physical blemish in sight. He even has Mr. Han look it over, and the mechanical genius himself deems it to be perfect.

Felix sighs in relief and sinks into his chair, the cushion worn thin from so many hours of him sitting on it. “This was the most challenging design I have ever done.”

“You did a splendid job,” Mr. Han reassures. “Would you like me to mail it to her along with her dress? I’m nearly done with it.”

“That would be wonderful.” He doubts Miss Shin will return since he has not heard a word from her since she last visited a week ago. The pieces of gossip he overhears from customers corroborate his assumptions; they whisper about Miss Shin overseeing the planning of her extravagant ball by herself and how exhausting it must be.

He delicately places the hat into a velvet-lined hatbox and covers the top with tissue paper. Then he pops on the lid.

“Are you attending her debut?” he asks. “Miss Shin said she invited you.”

“Of course!” he replies, and Felix is glad that he won’t be the lone craftsman there. “It’s far too good of a business opportunity to pass up. I take it you will be there as well?”

“Like you said, it’s far too good of a business opportunity to pass up.”

“And other kinds of opportunities as well.” He glances at the clock hanging above Felix’s head. “Ah, I ought to get going. This was supposed to be a quick break. Goodbye, Mr. Lee.”

Mr. Han holds the box close to his chest when he leaves. Felix watches closely and relaxes when Mr. Han does not run down the street like he expected him to. He trusts that the hat will arrive in perfect condition, but if it does not, well, that is why Miss Shin invited him to attend the ball in the first place.

Despite knowing that he will be going to an upscale affair, he has not prepared himself in the slightest. After deliberating for a few minutes, Felix takes up his stovepipe hat and heads down the street as well. If he wants to impress you — potential future customers, he means — he should at least buy a new coat and cravat.

On the day of the highly anticipated ball, Felix rises before the sun. It’s an evening party, so he needn’t be up so early, but he cannot sleep. His body is tired and demands to rest, but his mind is buzzing. As such, he brews himself a cup of tea and begins searching through old design sketches to fix.

Two redesigns and recalculations later, a gentle tap on the storefront’s window makes him look up. He has only had a half a cup of tea, so he is unsure if his eyes are truly working when he spots you standing outside. He isn’t even open for business yet. You cup the glass door and peer inside, presumably to see if he is awake yet. He blinks twice, and you are still there.

He walks over and unlocks the door, making you take a step back. When he sees you wearing in the purple walking dress you bought weeks ago, he feels disheveled in comparison. He pats down his uncombed hair. “Good morning, Miss L/N.”

“Good morning, Mr. Lee. I apologize for coming this hour, but it was urgent, and I wasn’t sure if there would be enough time if I came by later.”

Felix is wide awake now. “What is the matter?”

You hold out a bronze hatbox to him. “Do you remember the blooming rose headdress you made? Well, I was careless last night and accidentally dropped it. It’s broken, and I was planning to wear it tonight. Is there a chance it could be repaired by then?”

“May I…” He hovers his hand over the box, his fingers just a few centimeters above yours.

“Yes! Of course.”

Felix opens it, and to his relief, the damage is not as bad as he expects. There are a few petals askew, jamming the other flowers around it and causing the entire mechanical rose garden to stutter. The only other concern is the small grease stain on the silk ribbon, but that is a simple fix. He wonders where you dropped it. Certainly not on the ground since the damage seems to be minimal.

“I can repair it. Could you come back in a few hours? Around mid-morning?”

You sheepishly smile at him. “Would it be possible for you to give it to me at the party? I wasn’t actually given permission to leave the house today.”

It is then that Felix notices that, once again, you have no chaperone with you. Or does your carriage driver count as one, he flippantly thinks. It does not matter though. The sudden realization about the inappropriate situation makes him more shy.

He takes the box from you and steps back into the safety of his store. With the clear door threshold dividing the two of you, he feels much more at ease. You seem slightly saddened by this, but perhaps it is his wishful thinkings.

“Of course,” he says, trying to hide his reddening face by looking at the cobblestone pavement. “Where shall I wait for you?”

“By the fountain in the front gardens. I have to arrive at the Shin residence early, so it will likely be me waiting for you.”

Felix nods and takes one small step backwards. “I will see you tonight then, Miss L/N. Good day.”

“Good day, Mr. Lee. And thank you for your help.”

You walk back to your carriage and wave goodbye when you see that he is still standing by the door. He weakly waves back and scurries to his work table where he promptly sets the box down and whispers panicked mutterings to himself. He feels like he’s overheating.

He drinks the remainder of his tea to cool himself down before settling into his chair. He reaches for his tools and begins taking apart the mechanical flowers. It is a distraction from you but not a very good one.

When Mr. Han show up in an actual carriage in the evening, Felix’s nerves are not any better. He fumbled with the top buttons of his shirt while dressing, and it took him several attempts to tie his cravat correctly. Now, every bit of his body tremors as he steps inside the carriage.

“Well, don’t we look like dandies tonight?” Mr. Han remarks. He eyes the hatbox Felix has on his lap. “Did Miss Shin send it back?”

“Miss L/N needed an emergency repair,” Felix responds as he pretends to adjust his cravat, making it look worse than it did mere seconds ago. The evening air is warmer than he anticipated. “Are you excited?”

Mr. Han lets his poor attempt at steering the conversation away slide. “More or less. I would rather be at home, but parties can be fun.”

Felix is inclined to agree, though he is most excited and terrified at the prospect of seeing you again. The conversation devolves into silence as both gentlemen stare out the windows, observing the countryside at night. There is not a hint of light save for the moon and stars above. The wind blows in any direction uninterrupted, making the grass and wildflowers rustle.

It is a romantic picture.

Soon, the natural countryside begins to wane as they approach Shin residence, lit up in shades of blue with phosphorus lamps, comes into view. There is a line of carriages on the gravel path leading inside the estate. They are one of the last ones, and Felix is overwhelmed by guilt for being so late. How long did he make you wait? Mr. Han pokes his head out the window and mouths an exclamation at the sight.

“I don’t think I have seen or even heard of a debut ball of this size,” he says. “Well, she did that no expense would be spared.”

Felix, even more anxious about the party now, only nods in agreement. As their carriage nears the entrance, he scans the gardens for the designated meeting spot. There is a shadowy figure by the fountain, nearly hidden by the tall hedges. Although he cannot make out who it exactly is, it must be you.

When they finally reach the entrance, he opens the door and steps out with your hatbox tucked under your arm. He heads towards the fountain, the opposite from the main door of the house. The driver, the same one as last time, gives him a strange look but says nothing. Mr. Han seems to understand and says that he will see him inside.

Felix slows his pace, making sure that the few guests waiting to be let into the estate will be inside by the way he reaches you. There are curious glances in his direction, but they rapidly turn to the decorated main door as the line moves forward. Once there is no one left outside, he quickly strides over to the fountain. You are nowhere in sight, so he presumes that you are behind a hedge. Hopefully, you have not left.

“Miss L/N,” he softly calls, “are you here yet?”

Like he hopes, you walk out from behind a hedge, the hem of your dress showing up first. Felix has to suppress a gasp when you stop right in front of him. You are very close, and your evening gown and typical daywear are vastly different. Your bare shoulders, to put it mildly, are distracting.

“Hello, Mr. Lee. How are you tonight?”

“I am well, thank you.” It comes out a little strained, and to deflect from that, he holds out the hatbox. “Your headdress, as requested.”

“Thank you. The ball has started, so I should head back before they notice me missing.” You take it from him and hold it in your arms. “Shall we head in together?”

You really are brazen. As much as he would like to spend more time with you, he knows the social implications it has and the damage that will be done to your reputation. This very act of meeting you alone is illicit.

“I think I would like to wander the gardens some more,” he lies. He vaguely gestures at the plants. “They’re quite lovely.”

You give him a half smile. “They are. Ask me for a dance later, will you? I would very much like it. Until then. ”

Like nothing out of ordinary occurred, you merrily head back to the house, leaving Felix at a loss for words. He paces around the fountain and imagines the conversation over and over again. You were no doubt flirting with him. He is beyond delighted, but he has no idea what to do with this newfound development. He spent the last months admiring you from afar.

Ten minutes later, after he is certain that no one will connect your reappearance with his, he finds himself inside the bustling ballroom of the mansion. ‘No expense spared’ is correct.

There is a full orchestra playing on a raised section and a quadrille underway. He must have missed the first dance. The automaton waitstaff are conducting their own dance through the crowd as they distribute drinks and collect empty plates. The oceanic theme, so earnestly described by Miss Shin, has come to life with the blue tinted lighting and sea creature motifs decorating the walls. Felix notes that although there are many species of fish, the devil fish is not among them. Against the west wall leans the refreshment table, draped with scalloped tablecloth reminiscent of the waves. Just a few steps away, to Felix’s amazement, is an enormous aquarium filled with exotic fishes and elegant aquatic plants. He suspects that the conservatory might have loaned them for the night. However, he would not be surprised if the Shins had their own aquarium.

“There you are.” Mr. Han emerges from the crowd, relief clear on his face. “Miss Shin has been wondering where you were. I didn’t say anything about your… plans, but I may have given her the impression that you got lost on the grounds somehow.”

Mr. Han leads Felix to wherever Miss Shin is. In the meantime, Felix hopes that she just wants to introduce him to a few of her friends and not that her headdress needs to be fixed. Imagine how mortifying that would be.

“Mr. Lee! You’ve arrived!” she exclaims. The surrounding guests all immediately turn to get a look at him, and he feels embarrassment coloring his face. “Everyone, this is the gentleman who created this extraordinary octopus upon my head.”

Just like that, Felix is inundated with questions.

“How long did it take?”

“What excellent craftsmanship! Are you taking commissions now?”

“How much for a hat?”

Felix politely answers them all, half bewildered and half pleased by the attention. Mr. Han watches from the sidelines with a proud expression and gives Felix encouraging nods when no one is looking. Several minutes later, Felix has earned himself a slew of new potential customers, all who are more than willing to pay a visit to his shop the next time they are in town.

“It has been in perfect working order ever since I received it,” Miss Shin reports. She reaches up to adjust one of the metal tentacles coiled into her hair. “You won’t be disappointed.”

Felix relaxes when he hears the good news. “Thank you for compliments. Pardon my manners, but I do not think I have mentioned how wonderful the evening has been so far. Your ball is a true success.”

“Thank you,” she says, the ever gracious hostess. “Do enjoy the rest of the party.”

One of her court members adds, “And do be a gentleman and ask a certain Miss Y/N L/N for a dance.”

“Yuna! Don’t be so—”

Felix does not get to hear what Miss Shin says next since Mr. Han pulls him away to the refreshment table, far away from where they were. Thank goodness for his perceptiveness. Felix is only a few shades lighter than crimson.

He does intend to ask you to dance, but the question is when? You were not with the other court members by Miss Shin, and at a party this large, he is unsure if he will even be able to find you.

“Having fun so far?” Mr. Han asks as he plucks a cream and jam roll in the shape of a fish off a serving tray. “It seems like everyone knows about your fancies.”

Felix ignores the last sentence. “It’s a magnificent party. It really does feel like we are all in the depths of the ocean here. Are you enjoying yourself?”

“More or less. The food is divine.” He punctuates the remark by grabbing another roll. “If I were less refined, I might just filch the entire tray.”

By the way Mr. Han is marvelling over the selection, Felix does not put it past him. He is not in any place to judge though; he, too, is considering taking a few treats home to eat.

“Mr. Han! And Mr. Lee as well! Good evening.”

Felix does not have to turn around to know who it is. Mr. Han’s sly face gives it all away, and your voice has become all too familiar to him.

Mr. Han greets, “Miss L/N! How lovely you look tonight.”

In the darkness, Felix was not able to see you clearly. Under the phosphorus lights and gas lamps, you are radiant.

He first notices the gold roses, slowly blossoming and then slowly wilting, adorning your head. Then his eyes travel downward to the ribbon choker around your throat and to your shoulders. He quickly averts his eyes to the evening gown you wear — sage green with an understated floral pattern, which perfectly matches your headdress. The fan in your hand is closed shut, the golden handle appearing bronze under the lights. He cannot bring himself to look at your face; he can already imagine the pretty smile you have, and that alone is making him grow warm.

“I do believe that is Miss Choi!” Mr. Han interjects. “Pardon me, I must speak to her immediately.”

You and Felix bid him goodbye, leaving the two of you alone. You wait for him to greet you, speak, something, but nothing comes to mind. He steadily shifts his gaze upwards and tries to lessen his blush when he sees the corner of your mouth quirked up.

“Did they miss you?” he says, breaking the silence. “Miss Shin and the rest of the court, I mean.”

“I don’t think so, being a very busy night and all. I think they were more concerned about dancing.”

Which reminds him…

With as much confidence as he can muster, he holds out his right hand to you. “Would you like to dance, Miss L/N? I recall you requested one.”

You place your left hand in his and let him guide you to the middle of the dance floor. “I must confess, I only came to ask you if you were going to ask me to dance.”

“I would not have forgotten.”

“Are you certain?” you tease. “It seems like you only remembered when mentioned dancing.”

“Believe me, Miss L/N, I would never be able to forget such a bold request.”

He knows exactly where the surge of genuine confidence came from. The second he felt your fingers on his palm, something inside him lit up. Your touch made the moment so much more real, his wishings no longer daydreams.

The quadrille finishes, and the orchestra starts playing a waltz. Though he is stunned by the change — he had been anticipating walking and turning about you, not twirling you around — you are not. While you curtsy as a formal greeting before the dance, you deftly switch your fan to your left hand. Before he can bow in return, you hold his left hand and smile demurely at him.

“I have another confession to make Mr. Lee: I have been waiting to dance with you for the longest time now.”

He cautiously presses his hand to the small of your back, pulling you a bit closer than social customs allows. He can blame it on the crowded ballroom. He can feel your warmth through the fabric, and it occurs to him that you are in his arms just like in all those outdated fairy tales.

“If we are making confessions, then I suppose I have one as well,” he says.

He hears the expectant note in your voice. “And what is it?”

“I wanted to dance with you too.”

It’s a simple statement, but you grin from ear to ear, so bright the rest of the room seems dark in comparison. His heart flutters. When he twirls you around again, you lean your head back and sigh.

“You are marvellous dancer,” you remark as you sweep back your skirts to make more room for him. “Did you take lessons? Or do you just have a natural talent for it?”

“A bit of both. I took some about four years ago during my apprenticeship. I guess I still remember the basics.”

“No time for anymore now, I presume, with the amount of business you have been getting. Ever since I bought the butterfly headdress — do you remember that? It was ages ago, but it was the first one I bought from you.”

Felix remembers that day very well. He had opened his shop just half a year ago, and you and your chaperone stumbled in to wait out the rain. While you were captivated by the beating wings of a butterfly, he was awestruck by your gaiety on such a gloomy day. The silk flowers of your bonnet were drooping, your jacket damp from the incoming storm, and your face flushed from running, but your eyes held wonder and your lips a song.

You sang so much praise for the headdress that he went to bed that night hearing it in his sleep.

“Anyway,” you continue, “from the first time I came to your shop, I just knew you were talented. How long have you been working as a hatmaker? Your age and expertise don’t seem to match up. You are quite young compared to the other mechanical and automaton designers.”

“A year and a half now. I took over the business when my mentor retired. I do not think I am much older than you.”

You ponder over this for a while. “Forgive my forwardness and my lack of regard for etiquette — being friends with Ryujin for so long has its flaws — but are you courting anyone?”

Felix stops breathing for a few seconds. “I am not. Why?”

“Just check— just curious. Well, perhaps you will find someone that interests you here. You could ask someone to dance and talk to them to see if they catch your fancy.” Your expression is innocent, but your words are laced with whimsy.

“Who do you think would be a good match for me?” he asks, playing along. “Surely you know a few of the guests here.”

You pretend to think it over, pursing your lips together in concentration. Felix thickly swallows and glances at the space between your brows instead. His heartbeat is even more erratic than before.

“I don’t like to gossip, but I did hear a rumor that a young lady on the debutante’s court is interested in being courted soon. Her coming-out will be happening this season.”

“Ah, interesting,” he replies in an overly thoughtful manner. “If only I could receive an invite to the event. I am afraid that I am rather unfamiliar with most of the people here.”

“I think I can help with that,” you say. “I will speak to her about it. I’m sure she would love for you to attend.”

He tries to keep an air of nonchalance but fails when he spots your lips twitching into a smile. “Thank you, Miss L/N. I greatly appreciate it.”

Like the scene has been rehearsed before, the waltz ends then. Felix shallowly dips you like the dance dictates and helps right you back up. In doing so, you wind up far closer to him than you were before. You are pressed up against his chest, and he can hear your breaths. With the bubble of intimacy gone and the reality of the situation settling in, Felix hurries backwards, confidence dissipating.

He is not alone though. You snap your fan open, drawing it across your cheeks and concealing your face. He does not think he has seen you this flustered before.

“Thank you for the dance,” you tell him behind the painted screen. “You were a wonderful partner.”

“You were as well.”

The two of you walk to the sidelines together, an appropriate distance apart. He glances over to you occasionally and notes that your usual cool composure has not returned yet. Before Felix can continue the conversation, the excitable young lady — Miss Yuna Whatever-Her-Surname-Is — emerges from the crowd and rushes to you.

“Y/N! Do tell us about it!” she exclaims, forgetting that Felix is right there. She sidles up to you, holds your arm, and waits expectantly for the details.

You duck a little lower behind your fan and hiss, “Yuna!”

“Good night, Miss L/N,” Felix says. “It was a pleasure to dance with you.”

He makes himself scarce but not before he overhears you laugh and sigh, “Yuna Shin, don’t ever do that again. But yes, it was all very lovely.” He swells with joy.

The orchestra has started another waltz, one that is uplifting and bright. Felix hums along to it as he heads to the refreshment table. Almost unsurprisingly, Mr. Han is still there as well with a miniature trifle in hand. The dessert looks unappetizing to Felix with its blue layers, but Mr. Han is enjoying it.

“You don’t like dancing?” Felix says as he inspects the table for a drink.

“The contrary. This is just replenishment for the night.” He spoons another bite into his mouth. “And all the ladies seem to be on the dance floor anyway.”

Felix finds a cup of punch and drinks it heartily. He has never attended a debut ball before, so he is not sure of what there is to do other than dance and mill around. He spends some time observing the creatures in the aquarium nearby. There is unfortunately not an octopus in the glass tanks, leading him to believe that this is the Shins’ own aquarium.

He returns back to Mr. Han, and the two spy a few of their creations in the crowd. They all seem to be garnering attention from other guests, which bodes well for their financial future. Mr. Han, who is much more knowledgeable about who is who, updates him on the latest news regarding each of the guests. Felix nods along, only partially paying attention to his words as he watches couples dance at the same time.

As much fun as it is to be an observer though, it gets dull quickly when Felix realizes how much he would rather be home than here. He has no idea where you currently are, but it would be impolite for him to monopolize your time with another dance. Not to mention, it would stir rumors, and he wants no part in them.

“Would it be rude to leave now?” he rhetorically asks.

Mr. Han ponders over this. “Considering it has only been an hour, I think so, but let’s leave anyway.” He picks up a napkin and starts surreptitiously piling rolls and tarts inside. “Keep watch for me.”

Felix complies by standing right in front of the napkin and thus obstructing the view from the rest of the room. “You just said it would be rude.”

“I have to open early tomorrow, and so do you. New commissions to work on and all that.”

The people in his life, Felix notes, have a tendency to disregard social customs. However, he does not mind in this case or your case. Mr. Han filches a few more desserts at the behest of Felix, and the two wait for Miss Shin to finish her waltz to say goodbye.

“So early? The ball has just begun! And what if a problem arises?”

Felix gives this comment pause, but Mr. Han bats it away as if it were merely a pesky bug. “Miss Shin, I assure you that all of my — and Mr. Lee’s as well — are in perfect working order. When has anything I made for you been otherwise?”

While the two of them discuss this, Felix stands by and adds whatever he can. Both Mr. Han and Miss Shin are quick with their replies, and there is hardly a break in between. However, Miss Shin eventually concedes after learning of the new work they have to start.

“Very well. Thank you for attending” — she taps one of the brass tentacles on her skirt with her matching fan — “and for this beautiful evening gown. And thank you for the wonderful headdress, Mr. Lee.”

“It was our pleasure,” Felix answers. “Good night, Miss Shin.”

Felix and Mr. Han make their way to the exit, sidestepping the people lingering around the windows. Felix glances around to find you. He wants to give you a proper goodbye, but you are nowhere to be seen. There are no gold roses in the sea of people. He resigns to his predicament and hopes that you will not be too disappointed that he danced and left.

The area outside the mansion, swarming with exhilarated guests not too long ago, is empty. The blue lamps illuminating the cobblestone path seem forlorn instead of lively, and the silence only emphasizes the feeling.

“I’ll get the carriage,” Mr. Han offers, already heading in that direction. “Just wait here.”

Felix sits on the last step of the stairs and listens to the crickets in the bushes. The moon is higher in the sky now, and the wind from earlier has died down to a breeze. He sighs and loosens his cravat leans backwards on his forearms, enjoying the cool air on his face. It is a pleasant contrast to the party inside.

“You could have said goodbye at least.”

When he turns around, fumbling about and trying to make himself presentable again, you are standing a few steps above him. You said the words jokingly, but he hears the hurt underneath.

“I apologize,” he whispers. The darkness hides his guilt well. “I couldn’t find you.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Not one for parties, I take it?”

“I only came to talk and dance with you,” he admits, growing more embarrassed by the second. “If things were different, I would stay all night, but once I used my chance, I didn’t know what else to do.”

“We could have still chatted after.” You walk down to his step and sit beside him, the silk of your gown brushing against his leg. The only thing separating the two of you is your wide skirt. You place your hand only a few centimeters away from his on the steps. “I know I was acting a bit silly earlier, so I want to ask you outright. Forgive my forwardness, but do you intend to court me, or am I just seeing things that are not there?”

Felix goes still. He had not thought about his feelings that way. He certainly likes you, but a courtship never even crossed his mind because of how far up the social ladder you were. He wanted to catch your eye, but he never thought you would pay genuine attention back to him.

“Because if you do,” you continue after he says nothing, “I want to be courted seriously. If you are merely teasing me, then tell me now.”

“Miss L/N, are you teasing me now? I am no one important, yet you pursue me.”

“I am not teasing, I swear,” you solemnly say, looking directly into his eyes. “I will not play with your heart like that. And to me, you are important. Never mind the wonderful things you have made for me, I like you. You and how industrious you are, how assured you are in yourself, how you play along with my jokes for my sake. You are nothing like all the rakes and fops around me.”

He can hardly believe his ears. After a tense silence, he says, “If you will let me, I will court you seriously.”

“Mr. Lee, I have always allowed it. Every joke, every smile — it was an invitation for you.” He glances over at you in shock, and you halfheartedly smile at him. “Perhaps I was not clear enough about my advances.”

“No. I was simply too afraid to act upon them. I did not realize your intentions were pure.”

“I assure you, Mr. Lee, you were the only gentleman I flirted with.”

The nearby sound of a horse trotting interrupts the moment. Felix glances down to where the stables are and spies a silhouetted carriage approaching. Mr. Han was quick with his task, and Felix wishes he had been less so.

Having seen the same thing, you stand up and fluff out your skirt, preparing to go back inside. The silk ripples in waves, and Felix stares in fascination. You catch him in the act and flash him a knowing smile. “Good night. I hope to see you soon.”

Felix bashfully replies, “Good night.”

You give him one last look and hurry away before company arrives. Your head bobs up and down as you take the stairs two by two, and Felix watches you disappear into the mansion. He is still staring at the door when the carriage drives up.

“Mr. Lee!”

“Coming!”

The journey back to the city is mostly silent since Mr. Han seems worn out by the night’s events already. Felix does not try to engage him in conversation, choosing instead to sink into the velvet seat and to admire the sky. If he looks at it long enough, he thinks he can see your face among the constellations.

The following days, all Felix hears about in the sparse amount of time he interacts with customers — his shop has been mostly devoid of hats and headdresses ever since Miss Shin introduced him to all her friends — is Miss Shin’s debut. Every piece of gossip he overhears while out revolves around it and the other upcoming debut balls in the season. On one of his outings to the market, your name is mentioned, and he stops in his tracks. He pretends to check his pocket watch and turns it over and over in his hands as if he has found a new scuff mark on the brass.

“I heard she sent out the invites already,” says the young lady with a pink bonnet. “Did you get one?”

“Of course! But Tzuyu Chou’s ball is on the same night, so which one do I go to?”

“Both, silly! Just leave one of them early and—”

Once the topic changes, Felix quits his act and continues onward to the market. He has not received an invitation to your ball yet, and surely that was what you were alluding to during the waltz. Perhaps you are going to hand-deliver it yourself. That is all he can hope for because the other reason is that you have changed your mind about him.

When he returns to his shop with new bronze sheets and copper wiring, he is disappointed. You are not waiting outside nor is there an envelope tucked underneath his door. Felix brews himself a cup of tea and settles at his work table chair. He pulls out his sketches for a hat decorated with swimming fish and starts on its construction. All he can do now is wait.

After several days and far too much time spent agonizing over the issue, you finally grace Felix’s shop with your presence. When the bell on the door chimes and he sees you at the threshold, he nearly leaps out from behind the counter, shoving away his tools in a weak attempt to appear well put together. He wipes a spot of grease from his brow with the back of his hand and bows at you in greeting.

“Welcome. How may I be of service?”

“Are you accepting custom orders right now?” you ask, walking closer to him. Your chaperone follows closely behind to ensure that you are not about to blatantly flirt with him again, though Felix has a sneaking feeling that you will anyway. “I heard you might be busy. It seems like everyone wants a hat from you now.”

“What did you have in mind?”

You glance at the current project is working on. “Actually, that one seems interesting. Or is it someone else’s?”

The clockwork hat is indeed someone else’s, Miss Lia Choi, to be precise. “It is.”

“Ah, I see.” You do not look the slightest bit dejected at the news. “Well, I think something with butterflies would be lovely. I have lots of good memories involving them, so I want them to be part of my debut ball.”

Felix cannot get a single sound out, so he elects to duck back behind the counter. He picks up his pencil and rolls out another sheet of butcher paper. The blank canvas stares back at him, and he hastily sketches the form of the headdress like he wants to show you an idea he has in mind. He has nothing in his mind. He cannot think after a statement like that. He puts the pencil down.

“I can have a rough draft of the headdress done in a few days,” he says. “Or do you have a design planned out?”

“Perhaps something like this?” You take the pencil from the counter, your fingers brushing against his in a manner that is not accidental.

While Felix does his best to maintain his composure in front of your chaperone — she seems to not have noticed your gesture, thankfully — you draw a cluster of butterflies on the side of the headdress and small flowers to fill in the gaps. You mindlessly hum a melody as you sketch, and it sounds awfully similar to a waltz he danced to sometime ago.

You push the paper towards him. “Here.”

He glances over it, lightly touching the lines and curves with his finger. It is a pretty design and very extravagant. He will likely have to make some adjustments so you can actually wear it without injuring your neck, but it is possible to make it into a reality. “I will get to work on it soon. When do you need it by?”

“As soon as possible.” You open your reticule and set down a sheaf of banknotes so large, Felix cannot see your hand at all. “I know you have a long line of customers, so I will pay double the regular price for it to be finished in two weeks’ time.”

He would have done it without the monetary incentive anyway. Nonetheless, he nods and assures you that it will be done by then. You audibly sigh and thank him in advance for his timeliness.

“Is that all for today?” he asks. He wants you to say no, to make up an excuse to stay.

To his disappointment and seemingly to your own as well, you reply, “Yes. I’ve got a busy day ahead of myself. Well, good day. It is always a pleasure coming to your shop.”

“Good day.”

He watches you leave. You do not turn around to give him one last look like he anticipates. Your chaperone is keeping a careful eye on you and your antics, and she is following close behind as you out the door anyway. However, you do smile at him through the window. Even though you will not be able to see it, he returns it.

Once you are out of view, he collects the banknotes on the counter to put away. As he does so, he notices a corner of an envelope peeking out from the pile.

Mr. Felix Lee, it says across the front in black ink.

Could this be the invitation he has been waiting so long for? He does not know what else it could be, but he is still nervous. With trembling fingers, he breaks open the glossy red seal and takes out the stiff cardstock inside.

You have been cordially invited to Miss Y/N L/N’s debut.

He laughs, one mixed with relief and pure joy, and it echoes throughout the shop. The sound bounces off the empty walls like a never-ending symphony of happiness.

Once the euphoria has waned a bit, he sets his previous project and begins refining your sketch. He traces over your butterfly wings, adding more dimension and adjusting angles as he does so. He can already see it coming to life, the wings beating in harmony to the music, the delicate twitches of the antennae as you move your head.

To think that you will be wearing this at your coming-out and that he will be there to see it. Though it is an inside joke between the two of you, it might as well be a public declaration of courtship to him.

He works on your headdress almost feverishly, neglecting his other projects for as long as he can afford. When Mr. Han comes by for tea and a chat a few days later — they have become friends after Miss Shin’s ball — Felix is frantically soldering the minute hand onto one of the many tiny clocks on this hat.

“Do you want any help?” Mr. Han asks, popping the last bite of his biscuit into his mouth. “I do have experience with metalworking, you know.”

“I’m alright,” he mutters. The client is supposed to be arriving within the hour, and he cannot imagine how damaged his reputation will be if someone else other than himself is found working on the hat. He shudders as he pictures the suspicion on his customers’ faces. “Sorry for not being better company.”

“Don’t fret. I only came because I had news regarding Miss L/N.”

Felix nearly misplaces the minute hand in his surprise. He feigns nonchalance at Mr. Han’s statement. “Oh?”

“Do you know Lord Seungmin Kim? Apparently, he is interested in courting her. I overheard someone say that he is to be her partner for the first dance.”

Felix says nothing, just grips his tool tighter and intently stares at the tiny Roman numerals in front of him. He did not expect to be chosen for the honor of the first dance, but it does not mean his pride goes unhurt. Lord Kim, a nobleman with wealth and connections, is well above him in terms of social status.

“That’s… that’s impressive,” he says.

“Yes, and I also heard that she does not want him to be her partner. Something about another gentleman in mind.”

Mr. Han looks pointedly at Felix, who pointedly pretends not to notice it. He affixes the hand to the remaining clock and checks everything once more for any careless errors. His heart thumps in his chest, twice the speed of the soft tick-tocking of the miniature clocks. If he is the alleged gentleman you have in mind, then the first dance would truly be a public declaration.

“Have you been invited?” Mr. Han asks, though it seems as if he already knows the answer.

“Yes. What about you?”

“No.”

As far as he can tell, there are no flaws with the hat, so he puts his tools away. “You seem content with that,” he remarks as he rummages around in his cabinets for an empty hatbox.

“Of course! I will only miss the food, so do filch some for me. I did it at Miss Shin’s.”

Felix makes a noise in acknowledgment. The gears in his head are working overtime as he plots out what your debut will be like. You and him, in each other’s arms, in front of everyone. What will they say? What will he do afterwards?

The sound of a ringing bell interrupts his thoughts, and in flies Miss Choi, another member of Miss Shin’s court and a friend of yours.

“Is it ready? Please tell me it is! I have been waiting all day for it!” she says, breathless from her bursting in. She spies it sitting on the counter and immediately sets it on her head. “It’s lovely! And not heavy at all.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Choi,” the two men chorus.

“Oh, yes. Good afternoon. I didn’t know you two knew each other this well,” she distractedly says. She turns to Felix, her hand reaching for her reticule. “I paid for this already, right?”

He nods. “Last week.”

“Perfect. Oh, goodness” — she glances at the wall-mounted clock behind Felix — “Y/N will be cross with me for being late. I will see you at the ball then, Mr. Lee. Thank you again. Goodbye!”

She leaves in the same frenzied manner as she came, and her worn out chaperone hurries after her.

“That was a confirmation if I ever heard one. She must know the details.”

“That was nothing.” Yet he desperately hopes that it was something.

“You keep pretending that as if no one knows of you and Miss L/N’s relationship. Everyone knows she fancies you, and you her, so there is no need to keep putting up this act.” Mr. Han sighs and crumples up his paper napkin. “I ought to get back to work now. Thank you for the tea.”

“Thank you for the company. Good day, Mr. Han.”

Mr. Han stands up from his seat, throwing his coat back, and heads for the door. “Good day. Do not forget about the food.”

Felix rolls his eyes, but a small smile forces its way onto his face anyway. “I won’t.”

Possibly the most important day of Felix’s day has arrived. He adjusts his cuffs, his cravat, his shirt — everything really — mindlessly as he waits for the time to tick down. He is restless. His usually nimble fingers turn clumsy when he tries to work on a hat for a client, and he cannot focus on anything. He has not seen you since you dropped off the invitation all those days ago. Your chaperone came to pick up your headdress, and she gave him a cool onceover before advising that he come to the ball a tad earlier.

As such, he locks up his shop two hours before the starting time and makes the walk to the banquet hall where your debut is being held. He could have rented a carriage like Mr. Han did for that seemingly long ago ball, but the hall is not too far away. Being dressed in finery, he receives curious looks from passersby and more batting eyelashes from young girls than he likes.

By the time he arrives at the hall, dusk is darkening into night. The gas lamps on the streets have lit up. He is a little more than half an hour early, which is hopefully sufficient for whatever reason why he was suggested to do so. There are no signs of guests, and stricken by the fact that he has no idea what to do, Felix idles around the entrance. He cannot just barge in; that would be rude. He incessantly checks his pocket watch for the time, wishing that someone would come and save him for this predicament.

Fortunately, his wishes are soon answered. The main doors open, and out steps you in all of your radiance. Your eyes meet his, and all he can do is gaze at you.

Your dress is reminiscent of what you wore at Miss Shin’s debut: a green evening gown dotted with tiny pink blossoms, and gold trim around the shoulders that complements the gilded butterflies that swarm around your head. Green and gold appear to be your signature colors, and you wear them well. Even the lighting seems to be in your favor; warm light spills behind you, highlighting the wisps of your hair.

“Oh, Mr. Lee! I was just coming out to see if you were here yet. Fei said she told you to come early.”

He thickly swallows before greeting, “Good evening, Miss L/N. You look… stunning.”

“Thank you. You look very handsome yourself. Do come in. I have something to discuss with you.”

He follows you to the main hall where the ball is to be held. The entire room is decorated like a greenhouse with vines tumbling down the walls and perfumed flowers on every surface. It is bright inside, as if the banquet hall has been bathed in sunlight. Stationary butterflies hang down from the ceiling, while steel dragonflies are strung like lights across the room. Your court members and some chaperones linger around the refreshment table, no doubt taste testing the morsels you have decided upon. Felix spots a tray of small tea cakes in the shape of leaves and makes a mental note to take a few for Mr. Han.

Upon seeing the two of you walking nearby each other, Miss Wang, your usual chaperone, lets out a theatrical gasp. “Miss L/N! Why did you not ask me to accompany you? You should know better. And on this day as well!”

“Miss Wang, no one is fooled by you. Besides, if it were to be on any day, today is the best choice,” interjects Miss Ryujin Shin, who holds a cup of punch in her hand. “After all, this is the gentleman she desires to court anyway.”

The other chaperones do not seem shocked by this revelation, presumably because they all knew already. Miss Choi and Miss Yuna Shin even clink their glasses against Miss Ryujin Shin’s in a mock toast.

“Ryujin’s right,” you agree. You turn your attention to Felix, and the room goes quiet. “I thought it would be best to ask you in person, and I know I don’t give you much time to think about it, but will you be my partner for the first dance? I meant to ask you the last time I visited, but there were a few things that had to be sorted out before I could.”

The orchestra begins rehearsing then, and the triumphant music perfectly matches how he feels. “I would be honored.”

The ball begins precisely at the hour, but guests begin allowing themselves inside a few minutes before. While you flitter about, greeting guests of importance and smiling at compliments, Felix mills around the sidelines in anticipation of the dance. He recognizes some of his customers, a couple of which say hello and show off the hats and headdresses he has designed for them. He politely engages in conversation with them before looking back at you. He does not know when the dance will begin, and he wants to be prepared for the moment.

Once he is alone again, you approach him with a secretive smile. “Are you ready?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“Of course. Let the ball begin.”

He holds out his hand for you, and you lead him to the center of the dance floor. The crowd takes note of this, and their chatter dies down to murmurs. Felix overhears some of the whispers, most of which are confused questions of who exactly he is, where Lord Kim is, and why you have selected him of all people. They take in his second-rate coat and the way you gaze at him in wonder. It has to be a jest, someone nearby mumbles.

However, you are unfazed by it all. You look over to the orchestra and give them a slight nod. They stop their light, airy opening number and begin a waltz piece. The butterfly wings of your headdress beat at the same tempo, and he suppresses a chuckle at the sight.

This time, Felix holds you at a respectable distance away, not wanting to exacerbate the growing rumors. More couples join in on the floor, but most of the attention is focused on the two of you.

“Everyone is watching,” he whispers as he twirls you around.

“I am the debutante,” you reply. “And it is only natural people stare at such a handsome gentleman.”

You flirt even more shamelessly than before, not even bothering to hide your flattery behind sly words. He has still not gotten used to it, which means his burning red ears are on display for everyone. Still, he smiles. “You will be alright with this when we court?”

“Of course. Will you?”

“Of course,” he repeats. “And will you be alright with your beau being more attractive than you?”

He has never teased you before, and you laugh at his overly serious demeanor as he says it. “Mr. Lee! Well, how could I be upset with having such a striking beau, especially one with charms like yours.”

He twirls you around again and pulls you a fraction closer. “I suppose this is as good as a time as any to ask: will you, Miss L/N, allow me to court you officially?”

You completely close the gap, earning several gasps from onlookers and Felix himself as your chest presses against his. With a wide grin on your face, you say, “Mr. Lee, I will.”

It is all anyone can talk about the following day: Miss Y/N L/N of a wealthy, upper class family is set to be courted by Mr. Felix Lee, the popular mechanical hatmaker. Through the shop window, Felix can see passersby trying to get a glimpse of him inside as he works. He has to close his store for the day because of the sheer amount of people visiting and treating him like an animal at an aquarium.

By the time the sun sets, less and less people pass by. By the time the gas lamps light up the street, your carriage drives up the street and stops in front of the store. You step out in a cornflower blue gown and knock on the door. Felix has been ready for you for hours now.

“Hello, Mr. Lee,” you greet. Your excitement is palpable as you say, “Shall we go on our first walk together?”

“Good evening, Miss L/N. And to you as well, Miss Wang.”

Your chaperone follows behind the two of you, ensuring that the two of you — well, mostly you — will be proper.

“Where shall we go? Around the block for tonight?” he suggests.

“My dear Mr. Lee, I will go anywhere you wish.”

Miss Wang halfheartedly reprimands you for the term of endearment, but Felix does not mind. You share a glance with him, and he already knows you will be calling him ‘dear’ until the end of time.

He could get used to that.

~ ad.gray

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deadinside-butstill-horny · 3 years

Text

The Night We Met

Part Two - Some Of You

Pairing: Javier Peña/ Female Murphy!Reader

Words: 5.3k - again; das pretty spooky.

Summary: Y/N’s and Javier’s actions on the couch are confronted.

Content Warnings: No smut just yet... Slow burn? Uh 18+ still though cause Javier’s got a filthy mouth and Y/N can’t stop saying fuck. Angst. Jealousy. Reference to declining mental health.

A/N: Sorry this took me so long to get out. I’ve rewritten this three times because I just didn’t enjoy the direction it took. It was way too serious and stuffy, so I’ve gone a little playful with it and I’m kinda into it. Anyway, enjoy!

MASTERLIST

AO3

Part One

You and Steve spent your first night in Colombia talking about everything and anything. Well, to be more accurate Steve did. For the most part your job was to listen and absorb. If Javier minded the Murphy reunion playing out in his living room he was kind enough not to say anything and stay safely behind his bedroom door.

By 7am your mind was melted, you had already been going on 24 hours without sleep but taking on this amount of information, man, your brain hurt. They’d hung his cat, he’d beat the shit out of some coke head at the airport and to top it all off he’d saved the Colombian president from a terrorist attack.

"This place is a real resort, huh?" You mumbled, rubbing your eyes in disbelief.

"It's definitely something alright," Steve lit what you believed to be his seventh cigarette in four hours, it seemed the stress of Escobar had made his chain smoking worse. "You can't stay here, it's not… it's not a good place to be. It makes you different, harder. Paranoid." Steve didn’t look good at all, his knuckles were bruised and oozing yellow and his eyes had dark rings of purple no doubt from the sleepless nights he’d had recently.

"I'm not leaving until you look like you're not gonna' blow over at the slightest goddamn breeze. I'm a big girl Stevie, I make my own choices."

He didn't look impressed but he had no response, you knew that the conversation was far from over but with a shrug and a shake of his head he tabled it for a later date. The two of you sat in silence for a moment as you searched for what to say next.

"I need some sleep and a shower. I figured you wouldn't mind me camping on your couch."

"Uh, my place…" Steve scratched his neck uncomfortable "is a bit of a wreck. I lost my shit after Con, and I haven't tidied in a while-"

"A shower please and at least 12 hours of sleep then we'll sort it all out," you stood up and wrapped your arms around his shoulders you towered over him from where he sat.

Javier's bedroom door opened and Steve shot up out of your embrace. He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment at being caught feeling his feelings.

"Javi, I can't thank you enough man... Thanks for looking out for her." Steve clapped his partner on the shoulder. "Sorry if we kept you up,”

"Nah, I passed out after you got here,” Javier supplied kindly and whilst you knew it probably wasn’t true, you thought it was nice that he tried. “I’m about to head out, got a lead on Escobar to look into, got some concrete info from my informant. But you’re welcome to crash here, shower and rest… last I saw it, looked like a bomb went off in his place.” He snarked with a smoke hanging out of his mouth and buttoning up his fresh orange shirt.

“Thanks man,” Steve muttered for the third time this morning though this one was laced with sarcasm. “He’s right though, you should get some sleep here and give me some time to fix it up.”

“Don’t be silly. If Javier really doesn’t mind I’ll rest up here and help you clean it after. I’m here to help Steve, so let me.”

“Makes no odds to me,” Javi drawled with a shrug whilst pulling on his boots. After a quick tour of the bedroom and shower, you thanked him before turning to your suitcase and pulling out a fresh pair of pyjamas and your toiletries.

The two men were talking about the ‘concrete info’ Javier had gotten from his informant the night before, when you stood up and spotted the towel Javi had placed upon the table. When you got close they both clammed up, making you narrow your eyes in suspicion, though Steve ignored it completely.

“I’ll get some shut-eye too, come and knock when you’re up,” Your brother announced whilst stretching with a groan as he turned towards the door.

“Make yourself at home,” Javier smirked. His tone was full on innuendo even if he didn’t say anything inherently sexual. You turned quickly and clutched your toiletries closer, flustered by his words. You hadn’t known quite how he was going to interact with you this morning, part of you had been scared he’d ignore you completely so you were quite happy with the easy going kindness.

You closed the door and sighed, feminism was really taking a hit at your hands. Jesus Christ you were pulling the whole female race back a couple of centuries as you could barely look a man in the eyes with flushing a bright red and losing your ability to manufacture sentences.

You turned on the faucet of the shower just as Javier showed you. Whilst it was heating you up you turned to look in the mirror, your hair was a shade darker than it should’ve been coated in a disgusting cocktail of what you could only imagine was grease and sweat. Pulling your hair back, you noticed you had a bruise forming between the curve of your jaw and behind your ear. Was this guy secretly a 17 year old boy? leaving you with a goddamn hickey.

You peeled your fragrant clothes all while cursing Javier's name. You stepped into the shower and washed away the stress of the past night. All had ended well you supposed, better than well really. You’d made it here safe, found Steve and made out with a gorgeous man. The only downside was now you were here you saw how awful your brother looked.

Sighing, you decided to compartmentalise these complex thoughts until you had at least 8 hours of sleep under your belt. So you washed both your hair and your body quickly, reaching beyond the shower curtain for your toothbrush. You spent longer than was really necessary brushing your somewhat fluffy teeth before dropping the instrument back on the counter.

When you were finally done, you rinsed off and turned off the tap, exhaustion hitting hard now you were finally in the end zone. You looked around for your towel only to realise it was still on the dining table, you’d been distracted by the mens hushed whispers and Javiers teasing remarks.

“For fuck sakes,” you huffed under your breath out of the frustration of yet another task being between you and sleep. So after wringing out your hair you opened the bathroom door and peeped your head out.

The coast was clear, or at least it appeared that way.

As you rounded the corner, Javier was sitting with a coffee cup in his hand, and the towel resting in front of him with a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

“You forget something?”

You let out a dignity killing squeak and dove for the blanket that lay on the back of the sofa. You couldn’t believe the gall of this man.

“I could ask you the same thing! I thought you were going!” You proclaimed, gasping at the audacity of this man.

“Wanted a cup of coffee, y’know, start my day off right,” his face held absolutely no remorse and there was something distinctly challenging that dwelled there.

"You're a fucking perv, you do realise that spying on unsuspecting women as they get out of the shower isn't very cop-like." You growl at the man.

"Whose spying? I'm just sitting here enjoying my morning coffee, whilst you waltz around my apartment naked." He smirked holding his hand up "If anything I'm the injured party, what with you throwing yourself at me."

Your instant reaction was outrage, a huff left your body before you could restrain your response, that shit eating grin of self satisfaction remained on his beautiful face. It was so much worse than the usual smirk that usually resided there, you wanted nothing more but to knock it off him.

Schooling your face you rolled your eyes at his words and released your hold on the blanket. Two could play at this game.

"Whoops,"

You saw his eyes widen and flick down your body for just a second before the mahogany eyes narrowed and settled back on your own.

If this was a game he wanted to play, you’d win it.

It was your turn to smirk as you stepped over the blanket completely stark naked in the living room of a man whose last name you didn’t know and who just so happened to be your brother's partner.

You strolled forward noting how his eyes never left your own, the man had some real willpower. You had meant what you said last night, this was definitely not a good idea. You were playing with fire and you could guarantee Steve would murder you both if he found out about this, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t play a little bit of cat and mouse.

So you ignored the man completely and grabbed the towel from the table in front of him. You turned away and began patting yourself dry before rubbing at your hair as you walked back to the bathroom.

“Have a good day at work!” You call as you use your foot to kick the door closed behind you, though the door doesn’t finish its journey as a hand catches it and flings it back. The sheer force with which it slams into the wall makes your eyes widen and take a startled step backwards.

Javier stands in the doorway, staring at you. Your facade of confidence is knocked as you stare at him, he walks forward slowly, all swagger as usual and takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

Much like last night, he places a teasing single, solitary kiss on your lips. Your eyes shut as you wait for the onslaught to begin. But it doesn’t. He pulls away before placing a finger on the bruise on your neck, which was now on full display as your hair was pulled back from your face, dripping water down your body.

“Sweet dreams, maravillosa.” He whispers a voice like honey, backing up. His eyes, deliberately slow, roamed your body before they rose to meet your own. There were no playful winks or smirks present any more, only a heat. A burning fire between the two of you.

He was an arms length away from you but you felt a pressure on your chest, it was constricting your breathing. Making it hard to think, you didn't move or speak for fear it would break the spell. No words were passed between you as he took you in one last time and then turned on his heel and strolled out of the apartment.

That fucking bastard. He'd won again.

...

It was dark when you awoke to the front door slamming closed, it took you a moment to realise where you were.

Your head felt like it was full of wool and your teeth felt heavy in your mouth, you rubbed at your eyes feeling like you'd slept for an age.

You remembered the events of the previous night as you looked around taking in his room, minimal decorations, it looked like a prison cell rather than a bedroom. Javier was definitely not a nester.

Oh God Javier. The man you'd had at least two sexual encounters with in the past 24 hours. You'd thrown yourself at your brother's partner like a sex starved maniac, but my God, he was making you feel more alive than you had in years.

You sighed and lay back down, closing your eyes and rubbing your head. You grabbed the pillow and put it over your face. You weren't here for Javier, the lovely distraction he was proving to be, you were here for Steve. Steve was a goddamn mess, he was all over the place. Volatile, emotional and drunk, apparently, a large percentage of the time.

No, you decided, with a clear head for the first time in 48 hours. You could indulge in Javier when Steve had his head screwed back on and not a moment sooner. You would restrain yourself, you were not a blushing teen, contrary to your recent behaviour. You could do this.

You breathed out in a forlorn sigh, my God he'd destroy you. You knew all that swagger had to have experience to back it up.

Restraint Y/N, restraint.

You huffed in frustration and were struck by his scent, it had been around you all day, but he was condensed into the pillow covering your face. It smelt like smoke and his own brand of spice, something that brought his cocksure face into your minds eye.

This was going to be difficult.

Placing the pillow back down where you'd found it you rolled into a standing position, stretching out your arms above your head. You heard someone moving around in the lounge, a man and a woman talking.

Narrowing your eyes to step silently over the suitcase you'd moved into the bedroom last night and pulled out a pair of jeans, an undershirt and nondescript plaid shirt. You pretty much threw them on along with clean underwear as quietly as you could, it was as you were sitting on the bed pulling your socks on you heard the scrape of the sofa and silence throughout the apartment.

What in the hell?

It was then you decided to make as much noise as you possibly could… your rational brain told you he wouldn't… no- he couldn't be so god damn stupid not to check you weren't still in his bed before bringing a woman home after you'd been dry humping on that sofa not 12 hours ago.

You pulled on your trainers, steeling yourself for what you were about to find. This was either going to be a huge misunderstanding and you’d misconstrued the sounds or he was banging some lady out- A moan cut through your thoughts. No. No fucking way! That absolute fucker, getting you all hot for him and then pulling this shit!

You were struck by your position then, you were in his bedroom. Trapped. There was no clean exit. At this point the name of the game was damage control. You planned in your head, just get out of the apartment with as much dignity as you can muster. Resolved you all but launched your suitcase upwards crashing it into the wardrobe as it went and zipped it making sure to make it drag it out as much as possible to make the most noise you could.

You took in a breath, dragging your suitcase behind you and opened the bedroom door slowly and pretty damn stealthily if you do say so yourself, the apartment was dark, the only light source was from the warm glow of the street lamps outside.

So, you began your escape, taking a hesitant step forward. One foot after the other you got closer to the door, the wheels on your suitcase frustratingly loud, they had not got the memo that your mission had changed and your panicked brain now wanted to escape without confrontation.

As you rounded the corner, your stomach dropped. There, in the same position you had been not hours before was a woman, completely naked and riding the man that had invaded your dreams and had made you lose your head like no other.

You stopped dead in your tracks for just a moment before your fight or flight instinct kicked in. Now you'd like to say you're a fighter, the kind of girl to stick up for herself but all you wanted was for the ground to open and swallow you up. So in a moment of unhinged panic you made a run for it. Ditched the suitcase in the hall and hauled ass.

You weren't proud of it by any stretch of the imagination but you escaped pretty much unscathed apart for your dignity. That bitch was abandoned with the suitcase, decimated on the hallway floor. But hey, who really needed dignity?

You heard a surprised shout of something that sounded vaguely like ‘what the fuck?!’ from the lovers in Spanish as the door slammed behind you. You were taking the steps three at a time in sheer fear Javier and his lover would follow you out of the apartment. You knocked on the door of Steve’s place, praying to all that was holy that he was awake. Your luck, it would seem had not run out. As Steve opened the door looking as fresh as a daisy, well. A daisy that had been carried around in a child's pocket, mushed and missing a few petals, but you appreciated the effort of him tidying himself up.

“You alright?” His eyebrows dropped as he took in your sweating forehead and gasping breath.

“Uh, yeah? I ran into Javier and his … girlfriend? I think he forgot I was there.” You weren’t proud that you snitched to your brother but that was the best way of getting your things back without seeing Javier, you needed a hot second for this awkwardness to scab over.

“Fucksake Javi,” He pushed past you and nodded his head towards the apartment. “Make ya’self at home, yeah?”

With a nod you stroll into the living room still struggling to breathe. You throw yourself onto the couch, that was thankfully nothing like the one downstairs.

You were such a pussy.

You couldn’t explain why but seeing that had been a punch to the gut, you’d known him for an evening, you had absolutely no claim on the man but a part of you still mourned what could have been. Javier was exactly like eating peanut butter from the jar, you know you shouldn’t do it and your family gets annoyed if they find out but my God if it isn’t more delicious that way.

You would’ve let him take you apart piece by piece uncaring of if he put you back together after. He looked like the kind of man that knew exactly how to do it but it was a moot point now, it was over.

Jesus. You had to draw the line somewhere for your self respect. So that's how you rationalised your anger, you were annoyed at him for messing up a good thing you had going, the sex would’ve been filthy it would’ve renewed your faith in the universe. It was one hundred percent annoyance at him, you were not jealous.

Okay maybe 90% annoyance, 10% jealousy. It had been the woman from last night, all leggy and gorgeous. That bitch.

No, No, No. Y/N.

Being angry at her was easy but she wasn’t the one humping you on a couch. Javier was the bitch here. Your inner monologue was cut short by two male voices, coming up the stairs.

“Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck.” You whisper and leap out of your seat, you run for the door on your left as it looks like the bathroom in Javier’s apartment. The two men are close now, maybe at the top of the stairs? You open the door to reveal a fucking closet. You close your eyes and wince in desperation as you hear their voices outside the door.

There’s not enough time to dwell on your declining mental stability as you throw yourself into the cupboard and close the door behind you. You back up and nearly knock something off of the shelf, you turn and catch it in time. You can’t see what the bottle holds as you’re stuck in pitch black but your nervous hands have an iron grip on the plastic. The front door is pushed open, only you can’t see anything except from the strip of light that goes around the perimeter of the door.

“... I swear, you best hope…” Comes Steve’s laughing voice, he sounds strained. “Thanks for the help man, I’ve said that so many times recently it's gonna lose its meaning, but really. Me, you and Y/N -where ever the hell she's got to -we’ll get dinner as a real thanks for all your help.”

“Hey’ like I said. It’s no trouble, I’m just sorry I forgot she was there man!” He sounded meeker than you remembered.

“She’s a big girl as she likes to keep reminding me. I’m sure she’s fine with it. Beer?”

“Nah, I’m good, I got Valeria downstairs. Tell Y/N I said goodnight, ok?”

“Tell her yourself, Y/N!” You close your eyes and smack your head.

‘He was fucking leaving you idiot’ you seethe within your mind.

You hear Steve walk past to the hallway that leads to either of the two doors you could’ve made a run for and actually had an explanation for being behind. But no, here you were hiding in a fucking closet with a quickly waning amount of time before you got caught.

“Where the hell’s she gone?!” Steve all but shouted as he threw a door open. “She’s not here, I was only gone five minutes, they couldn’t have-”

The spiral was coming. This was Colombia after all, his mind had gone to the worst possible scenario, so cringing all while you pushed open the door of your hiding spot to meet the cocked guns of the two DEA agents. One with frantic eyes, the others laden with concern.

Javier looked sinfully disheveled, he’d clearly dressed in a hurry. (Join the club asshole.) Steve looked disbelievingly at you, shaking his head and holstering his gun in the back of his jeans.

“... Uh, I was looking for, um…” You look down at the product in your hands “... Fabric Softener?” Your voice lifts at the end of the sentence, your lie sounds awful even to your ears, but it's your story and you plan on sticking to it.

Both of the men look at you expecting you to elaborate, but you stare right back, more so at Steve than Javier. His face currently causes a nagging sensation in your jaw, making your lips want to purse in disapproval.

“Thanks for your help Javier.” You say cheerily, placing the bottle back on the shelf.

He stares at you, like you're a cornered animal and he doesn’t quite know if he should duck for cover. His eyes follow you hesitantly as he too holsters his weapon. “Sorry, if you saw-”

“It’s fine. Don’t sweat it.” You smile at him, your voice is no longer false as you force a dishonest genuinity to it. “Small price to pay for a comfy bed. You shouldn’t keep her waiting though.”

“Yeah..” His eyebrows meet in the dip in the centre, like he's trying to figure out a tricky maths equation and keeps getting the answer wrong. He nods one last time and gives your brother a clap on the shoulder before vacating the apartment.

“Well,” Your brother starts “That was fuckin’ awkward. Nice hiding spot, Moron.” You burst out laughing at his understatement of the year.

“I mean, I saw him banging that lady, I couldn’t make eye contact after that.” You play it off, but you feel like there’s something to your voice you can’t quite disguise, but if Steve notices he doesn’t stop smiling, so you’re happy.

You take the beer out of his hand and point to the cards on the table “Ready for me to whip ya’ like a dog?”

The awkwardness is quickly forgotten. Well, Steve forgets it at least. You don’t. A couple of hours later as you're lying on Steve's couch, trying to force yourself to sleep so you’re not quite so jet lagged tomorrow, you find yourself thinking about it. Analysing Javier’s actions.

After an hour of lying in the dark in contemplation, you can confirm you have no fucking clue why a person would do what he did. The only air tight hypothesis you have as you finally drift off is that he just wanted all the pussy, got greedy and got caught. Your eyes close as you finally lose consciousness with your heart in your gut.

You wake at 5am. The sun is just rising as you roll over, straight onto the wooden floor.

“Fuuck.” You groan, pushing yourself up into a sitting position.

You felt like absolute shit. If you’d thought 10 hours of sleep had knocked you into tuesday, a further forced three hour nap had done you no favours. Rubbing your eyes you shrugged out your shoulders trying your hardest to work out the kink you deserved for sleeping on a sofa. It was barely dusk but a soft golden light was warming up the room.

You sat up and reached to your backpack, pulling out the book you’d purchased at the airport in a hurry; ‘Spanish for Kids.’ There had been a distinct lack of Spanish for beginners and whilst you had faith in yourself, intermediate espanol had scared you off.

So learning to speak like a toddler seemed the better of the two decisions. You didn’t want to be presumptuous about how long you were going to last in Colombia, but you had no plans on going home any time soon. Steve looked like shit, you’d quit your job at the grocery store and Connie was taking care of the rent on your apartment. You were as free as a bird, figuratively speaking, you had no doubt your brother would forbid you to leave the apartment, as if that was in his power.

You sat patiently reading and repeating the words for about two hours, religiously scanning the thin book as if it was the word of God from cover to cover three times. You now had the ability to give people strange facts about yourself, yep, rather underwhelming for two hours work, nevertheless, it was progress.

First job is to find another translation book, Stevie would probably be able to get his hands on one. You looked to the clock on the wall, 7:32am. You could hear Steve snoring away in bed as you stood, pulling on your clothes from last night. You surveyed the fridge and found it lacking even the basics.

With a daring plan, you grabbed Steves keys and wallet from his leather jacket on the hook near the front door. You scribbled a note on the pad near the phone and left it on the dining room table, just so he didn’t think the Sicarios had decided to hang his sister this time.

You took the cash and dropped the rest of his wallet, folding the wad of money and putting it in your front pocket. Grabbing your shades from the table, you all but skipped out of the apartment taking the steps in quick little hops. As you took the last step into the lobby, you ran into the exact last person you wanted to see slipping back into the building.

“Y/N…”

“Hey Javier.” You replied with what you hoped was passable as a smile. There was silence and you could see the usually slick man, scrambling to come up with a topic. For the first time in your life, you let another human flounder and enjoyed it. You had nothing to say to him, zip, nada. Not your problem.

“No Steve?”

“Nah, He’s sleepin’ thought I’d get some groceries.”

“Alone?”

“I made it here in one piece, didn’t I?”

The man's eyebrows furrowed. “Gimme’ a sec’. I’ll come along.”

“Seriously Javi, I appreciate you being such a good friend to Steve. But I’m fine. Honestly. Steve said last night that the shop’s two blocks to the left.”

“Nah, I need some eggs.” You were bemused by his response. But fine, if he wanted to continue this exercise in torture he could feel free to. You shrugged and gestured towards his apartment. He turned on his heel and raced back in, for what, you couldn’t guess. He returned not two minutes later, yellowed sunglasses sitting lazily on his nose and a hand in his back pocket.

“After you,” He all but whispered in your ear as he came up behind you holding the building door open, giving a wonderful performance of a gentleman. You strolled out surprised the sun was this strong even first thing in the morning. You could feel it beginning to power up for the day as it bathed your skin in a soothing warmth.

The two of you walked in silence for a few minutes as you took in Colombia. It wasn’t quite what you expected, maybe not as impoverished. You didn’t have much time to dwell on that analysis, before Javi pulled you from your surroundings.

“Look, about last night…” He trailed off as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“Don’t worry. Honestly.”

“I-”

“No. Honestly, we fooled around. It was a bad idea to start with, maybe it’s good, y’know, that things turned out this way.”

“I-”

“No.”

“But-”

“No. Look. My brother’s a shit show. Absolute train wreck happening in slow motion. I came here for him, I’ve got way too much on my plate right now to worry about where you're sticking your dick. So we’re gonna start over, no awkwardness, no nothing. Hi, I’m Y/N Murphy.” You offered him your hand in surrender, now he may have just witnessed a break in your mental health but he had a half smile on his face as if he had found your soul spilling endearing, instead of deranged. He wrapped his bronzed hand around your significantly smaller one.

“Javier. Javier Peña. Nice to meet you again, guapa.”

“Fucksake, Javi. You don’t make it easy.” He let out another body shaking hearty chuckle at your words.

“I’m Javier, remember? I’ve never felt your wet pussy through my jeans.” Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. He’d taken your white flag and set it on fire and was currently using it to set your lower body alight. “Start over? Like I can get you my outta my fuckin’ head. I didn’t come with you today because I’m Steve’s good friend. I came to get fuckin’ eggs I don’t fuckin’ need because I want to know how you taste.” He’d backed you up against the gate that surrounded what looked like a church, your hand grabbed at the black bar as he advanced on you, the two of you were close but not touching.

“You’ve tasted me.”

“Not those lips, amada.” You couldn’t help but gulp at his words. How were you here, you’d been so angry at him last night. Last night, when he’d woken you up fucking another woman. Ice water shot down your spine as you pushed at his chest.

“No.” You hissed, your hands pushing him again. “You’re giving me fuckin’ whip-lash! One minute you’re getitng me excited thinking I’ma’ bout’ to get the best fuck of my life, the next your screwin’ someone whilst I’m asleep in your fuckin’ bed! Are you insane? They need to either up or lower your dosage, because I don’t know what would make you think that this is okay!”

He huffed, backing off of you but not quite aquiasing to your shoves. “An informant, she was a fuckin’ informant.”

“Oh Javier! Why didn’t you say!” You gasp, before you roll your eyes. “This makes absolutely everything okay.”

Sarcasm dripped from your voice as he seemed to reel from your words, the fucker actually thought he had gotten out of it.

“It’s my job. Finding Escobar, that’s it. That’s all that matters, that’s the end game.”

“Fine. Do your job, just leave me out of it.” He huffed at your words rubbing in between his eyes.

“I have never met anyone as goddamn infuriating as you, Murphy.”

“Fuckin’ likewise, Peña!” The two of you seemed to be in a stare off, neither of you willing to submit. You knew who was in the wrong and from the way he huffed before rubbing the back of his neck, he did too.

“Hello, nice to meet you, I’m Javier Peña. What’s your name?”

NEXT PART

@drinkingwhileblogging @va-guardianhathaway @jedi-jesi

Tag List - Just ask if you’d like to be added to the night we met tag list.

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #javier pena #narcos #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #I fucking love those yellow shades #daddy javi

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the-alice-of-hearts · 3 years

Text

Kids again Ch 1

AO3 Next>

Ch 1: She likes to drink her coffee black

Summary:

Soulmates come in twos; At least they usually did

98% of the world's population has a soulmate bond. Of those, 80% have platonic bonds. Only .2% of all soul bonds connected more than two people.

Having three soulmates is exactly the kind of cosmic joke the universe would play on a True Wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous. If it gives a boy who still had a lot of life to live a second chance, well that is still in Creation's domain, now isn't it?

Marinette loved the boy in her heart, and the other two links were twisted around each other in a way only romantic pairs could be. If only she could have loved him enough to save him /||\ Jason wanted, more than anything, to protect the girl who his heart belonged to; protect her from the harness of the world, and then from what he had become.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves here, let's start at the beginning.

Ch 1: She likes to drink her coffee black

The first time Jason looked into his Soulmate’s life she was happy. Whoever she was, she seemed happy. The first strong emotion that he got from her was pure bliss and a sense of major accomplishment. The first time he got to see through her eyes he was eight years old. She was rushing out the door waving goodbye to smiling parents, a thermos in one hand and a cute pink backpack in the other. He cherished this memory like no other. There were other strong emotions from the bond, most of them were similar. She was happy and seemed strong. After that, Jason tried not to let his emotions overwhelm him; he didn’t want the girl with the happy laugh and the pink backpack to see where he was.

He knew he didn’t do as good a job as he tried. The feeling of worry in his heart that he knew came from her told him so. He could feel when she worried about him not eating enough, so he tried not to go to bed hungry too often. He could feel when she would panic because she hadn’t felt anything from him for too long. He would go and listen to the musicians playing on the streets; trying desperately to feel as happy as he could for her.

When he had gotten stabbed defending another kid from a man with a knife, he wasn’t sure if his panic was his own or hers. He felt like he was watching someone die though, so he was pretty sure it was her panic feeding into his own pain. He made sure to take care of himself so that she didn’t think he had died.

This went on for a long time; him looking in and seeing small bits of her life and later try to send good things back as much as he could. He figured out she was from Paris when the Eiffel Tower was in so many of the small glimpses he saw. So, he stole an English to French dictionary. He then found a bookstore, he could steal from it pretty easily, that had a copy of a book filled with his favourite fairy tales in French. He learned French, then he took it as his language elective. Slowly, he started to understand what she was saying in his visions of her. She had a small number of friends, but they were pretty close. She still worried about him far too often, but he noticed that on days where she was worried she would go out of her way to be as happy as possible. It was like she was trying to make him warm from the inside. And on those days, when was cold and hungry and desperate for a safe place to sleep, he would hold on to her happiness and promise himself that he would be happy for her tomorrow.

When he became Robin he was worried about her finding out. What if Bruce made him stop being Robin? For this reason, he stayed quiet about his Soulmate. Most bonds were platonic anyways, so he just didn’t mention that his bond was romantic.

He hoped she would at least get to see happier emotions from him. He knew that she had to have seen some of where he grew up, but he wanted to believe that maybe she would now get to see these happier moments. Jason vowed to live every happy moment to its fullest.

He hoped she got to see Alfred teaching him to cook, and him learning how to bake all her favourite pastries. He hoped she saw Dick teaching him gymnastics, seeing all the times he fell but got back up. He wanted her to see him and Dick goofing off and the times they would go sneak off behind Bruce’s back when he told them not to skip patrol to do just that and get ice cream in the suits. He hoped she saw him and Bruce sitting in the library reading, the two of them watching movies together when he was too sick to patrol. He wanted her to see that he had a family that loved him now. He hoped that she wouldn’t worry about him so much anymore; that he wouldn’t be a burden on her anymore.

He thought he had hidden this from his new family, but somehow Alfred always knew everything. Jason almost panicked when Alfred broached the conversation while he was teaching Jason to make macarons

“Does your Soulmate have a favourite flavor, Master Jason?”

“I- uh,” he tried to come up with a way to deny it, but knew that he would never get something past Alfred. Still he tried, “What do you mean?”

Alfred smiled, not looking away from measuring the ingredients. “Growing up, my best friend had a Soulmate that grew up in a troubled home. He told me he knew when she was in a better place because she started pouring emotions into everything she did so that he could feel, as well as see, that she was safe.” Alfred turned back to the cabinet looking at their ingredients. “I just thought that you seemed to be doing something similar. I apologize if I misread the situation.”

Jason stood there thinking for a moment. He looked around and listened to make sure Bruce wasn’t about to walk into the kitchen. He moved closer to Alfred so he could whisper, ”Her name is Marinette. I heard one of her friends call her Netté, though.” When Alfred didn’t stop him from talking he kept going. “She likes matcha ones best, but she always tells her mom that she likes strawberry ones because they're less work.”

That was all that was said. They finished making the cookies and Alfred packaged them up for him to have in his room. Jason was pretty sure that Alfred knew he was hoarding food, but so long as no one stopped him and probably even if they did he would keep doing it. Living on the streets taught him that a next meal isn’t guaranteed, and even if it was unlikely he would ever go hungry under Alfred’s watchful eyes, he still wanted a back up plan if he needed to make a break for it.

The next time someone asked about her was about a year later on a stakeout in Blüdhaven with Dick. Bruce had gotten scared when Jason got hurt and wouldn’t let him patrol in Gotham until his injuries had completely healed. Jason got antsy and ran away to crash on Dick’s couch until Bruce let up on the restriction.

Dick had just sat down next to him on the building they were on. “Hey, Little Wing”

Jason turned to him. “Yeah?”

“Do you ever try to send your soulmate messages?”

Jason’s throat closed up in terror. Dick kept talking as though he hadn’t noticed Jason tensing up and planning an escape route. “It’s just, sometimes I see what he’s seeing and I don’t know how to tell him that I want to look out for him, ya know? And his dad is kinda distant, but his mom loves him a lot. I don’t know though, because sometimes I can feel dread coming from my soul link but without any glimpses into what he’s seeing. Alfred thought maybe I have a platonic soulmate that is experiencing dread. Lately I’ve only had happy and joyful feelings so I’m worried that if I do have a platonic soulmate that maybe something bad happened to them. I have no idea how I would be able to send a message to a platonic soulmate though, so I wondered if maybe you knew?”

Jason had slowly gotten more confused while listening to his brother. He hadn’t considered the possibility of having more than one soulmate. “Wait, you mean you can have more than one Soulmate? I thought Soulmates were pairs?”

Dick shrugged. “My parents explained it being more like pieces of the same picture. Most bonds are platonic and platonic bonds are more likely to be someone who you grew up near, so you would have similar experiences with similar emotional responses. That’s why people don’t always notice them, but when you have a romantic bond that you can actually see through each other's eyes, you notice, yeah?”

Jason nodded. “So you have a romantic Soulmate, but think you also have a platonic bond?”

Dick ran a hand through his hair staring out at the windows they were watching, “Yeah, I don’t know how to describe it though. Honestly, I’m pretty sure I have three soulmates. The third is a lot quieter though. My mom laughed once and told me maybe it wasn’t that I had three soulmates, but that my soulmates had another link to each other.”

“Does that happen?”

“I don’t think so, but the stories about that happening are more fairy tale than concrete evidence. I like to think I have three though. I hope that, whoever my platonic bond is, they have their own romantic bond they can lean on. I don’t know if there is anything I can do for them unless I figure out who they are.”

Jason scoffed and then went on the alert seeing movement in the room. “We’ve finally got company.”

Dick smiled and ran back a few steps. “Wanna see me do a flip into the window?”

“Ten bucks says you don’t break the glass and fall on the ground.”

He laughed at that. “Be ready to pay up, Little Wing. I’ll get the two gunmen, then you swing in and help me with the others.”

He took a running start and jumped off the roof they had been on, doing a flip to keep his momentum up. He crashed through the glass rolling into a handspring, kicking the guns out of the two goons' hands. Jason followed using his grappling hook to get across to the now-broken window.

A short fight later and they had the men all tied up. Dick called the police with the info and then they were grappling away from the scene.

“Hey, Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“Earlier you said that you wanted to figure out who your platonic soulmate was.”

Dick landed on top of the building his apartment was in, then looked at him. “Yeah. I just want to know if I can help them.”

Jason followed him down the fire escape, “I thought that soulmates knew when they found each other; you make it seem like that’s not how it works?”

Dick walked into his room to grab clothes. “When you only have one soulmate, there is a glow when you touch each other the first time. It’s your soul telling you it’s complete, but if you have more than one you only get that if you find all the pieces of your soul.”

“Oh.” He caught the pants Dick threw at him. “Thanks for talking to me about this. I guess there was a lot I didn’t know.”

They crashed on the couch to play video games and eat leftovers. The conversation hung heavy in the air, though. Jason felt like, if he talked first, he would tell Dick everything, but, if Dick had had a romantic Soulmate this whole time, then Bruce had to know about it.

He looked up at his brother from where he was laying with his legs over the side of the couch. “Does Bruce know you have a romantic Soulmate?”

Dick looked down at him from where he was perched on the back of the couch. “Yeah? Why?”

Jason shot Dick's character while he wasn’t paying attention, trying to make him stop looking at him like that. He mulled over the question while avoiding the looks Dick was still giving him during his respawn times. In a small voice he finally answered, “He didn’t make you stop being Robin?”

That made Dick pause the game. He dropped down to sit on the cushion of the couch, leaning his head over Jason to look him in the eyes. “Jason, Alfred would never let Bruce use one of us having a Soulmate as a reason to kick us out of the suit.”

Jason pushed him back so he could sit up. Turning to look at him, he took a deep breath. “He kicked me out of the suit for being hurt. He fired you and sent you here. Why would having a Soulmate be any different?”

Dick reached out and hugged Jason. He felt Dick’s shirt becoming wet from tears he hadn’t realized he was crying. “Oh, baby bird, no, that’s not gonna happen, and if Bruce tries it, then you have a place here. You did really good back there, I would love to have your help anytime.”

Jason sniffled and wrapped his arms around Dick. “What if he tries to make you send me back?”

Dick was still rubbing circles on his back, talking soothingly. “Bruce can’t make me do anything. My bank account has Alfred as my responsible party, and Clark is the name on the lease. If you want to stay here you can, and no one gets to take my brother away from me okay?” Jason nodded, still sniffling but getting his tears under control. “Now enough sad talk. How about I kick your ass in this game and tomorrow I’ll take you to the gym I use and help you with your flips.”

Jason laughed wholeheartedly at that. Sitting up and discreetly wiping his tears, he grabbed his controller again. “Don’t know why you keep trying. You’re not gonna win at this any more than I’m gonna be able to do a backhandspring tomorrow.”

And that was it.

Bruce either didn’t know about his romantic Soulmate, or he really didn’t care. Jason started keeping a journal of written notes about her. He wanted to be able to find her one day, so he needed to know everything he could.

An incomplete list of things I know about my soulmate

Her name is Marinette

Her friends also call her Netté or Mari

She drinks a lot of coffee, usually black. She grabs it on the way to class. Is that a french thing? I feel like I only ever see her with coffee? That can’t be right, maybe it’s from the all-nighters? Her friends have teased her about not sleeping before. Is that more often than I think?

She ignores her own needs to help her friends

She’s like a year younger than me I think.

Her nonna (grandmother?) calls her Marinetta or Little Fairy (could I call her Pixie?)

Lives in Paris

She has an Asian mother; Chinese?

She has an Asian name, but I don’t remember it. Her parents use it but not often enough for me to write it down

Her father is French-Italian

She is in gymnastics, but can be clumsy

Kim, Nino, and Alix are her friends.

Chloe used to be her friend. She doesn’t know what changed things

She likes to draw

She wants to be a clothing designer

She made me something? I couldn’t see what it was, but her mom was really proud of her accomplishment.

She is a really good baker

She likes matcha macarons best; but she never asks for them. She feels guilty about her parents making them just for her

She can lift a giant bag of sugar like it weighs nothing

She likes to help people

She likes pink

She is nice and good. At least I think so.

The list was in a small red notebook. It stayed with him all the time; that way whenever something happened, he could write down any details. He filled the other pages of the book with things he wanted to tell his Soulmate, small bits of his life that he wanted to share with her. He had a spot in his utility belt for it to be, and a pocket in his jacket that he kept it in. He had once shown Dick the list and the pages that he had written about him and Alfred. He smiled when Dick showed him his own similar notebook. Dick’s romantic Soulmate was also from Paris; they both wondered if their Soulmates knew each other.

Jason liked to think so

#maribat #jasonette #soulmates #kids again fic

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gloomybabygirl · 3 years

Text

{in my head pt.1} Poe Dameron x smuggler!reader (soulmate au)

series masterlist

next part

a/n: hey y’all!! this is just a lil puff piece inspired by this cute trend on tik tok that i’ve been seeing :) I have no clue who started it but if you do please let me know!! It was originally going to be a blurb but I realized my words weren't flowing because I had so much more to say!!! so here we go with a four part mini series :) let me know if you want to be tagged for it!

warnings: swearing probably, soulmate trope, Poe in the shower if you squint

word count: 3.2k

songs used: quando, quando, quando - michael buble & nelly furtado and invisible string - taylor swift

summary: you’ve been able to hear your soulmate’s voice in your head since you were little. You haven't found him yet. But what happens when you start to develop feelings for a voice you don't recognize as your soulmate?

You had been able to hear his voice since you were little. You’d been able to hear it as far back as you can remember. An invisible friend that had always been there. An invisible string tying you to your soulmate, whoever he was.

You could remember the sound of his higher voice when he was in his childhood, sounding like a flute flitting through you head as you played dolls and went through primary school. You used to hold back giggles at inappropriate times when you could hear his voice cracking through his adolescence. Maker, his voice cracking did not stop him from singing at all hours of the day. You’d silently cursed him for singing so early in the morning when you were young. But as you grew older, it turned into your favorite alarm, your mystery lovers voice rousing you from sleep. And then his voice eventually matured and grew into the warmest, richest baritone you’d ever heard. You’d remarked several times how lucky you were that you got to hear his voice all the time. It was a voice you could swear you would recognize across the galaxy.

But you still hadn’t found him.

At this point, you were convinced you never would.

It wasn’t common for people to find their person. Often times, people settled with lovers that they knew weren’t their soulmate. But that never stopped them from hearing the others voice. You were determined you would find the man you were suppose to spend your life with. After all, you had a better chance than most.

But there was always that nagging voice in the back of your mind, never forgetting to alert you to a cold reality.

He probably already found someone else.

You were a smuggler. Being separated from family at a young age had you learning very quickly how to take care of yourself. With the... line of work you were in, you had traveled to every nook and cranny of the galaxy and met more people than you could count. Still no him. You knew the second you heard his voice you would recognize him as the man you were suppose to be with.

One small issue. He didn’t have that same confidence.

You didn’t enjoy singing as much as he obviously did. You would sometimes catch yourself humming in the refresher but would quickly stop yourself. His voice was just so... soothing. Flowing out of him like caramel. You didn’t want to bother him with your voice. Finn and Rey were tired of hearing about it, in fact. He had only heard you sing a handful of times and always very softly. If he didn’t hear your sweet voice for too long, he’d go into a fit convincing himself you were dead. But then he’d hear it. The quiet humming that sounded like someone singing gently in his ear. Just as he would realize it was you, it would stop. It drove him absolutely crazy. He wanted to be able to know you.

And you felt like he had given you a piece of himself by sharing his voice with you. The songs he chose always felt meaningful and each word told you the story of the man you knew was yours.

Most nights he happened to be singing very softly at the same time you were trying to fall asleep after a long day. Tonight however, you were crash landed on some desert planet in the outer rim trying to fix your old A-Wing from the Imperial days.

You could hear his voice in your head, still smooth and rich even with the late hour. Periodically, he would stop mid phrase, or trail off into a hum. You knew it was something or someone distracting him. You’d silently wished he could tell you about these interruptions when he came home to you.

Tonight he was singing a new melody. You liked his usual mix of songs, but this one made you feel like an exploding star. You knew it was about you and not some Twi’lek he’d accidentally fallen in love with.

“Tell me when will you be mine? Tell me quando, quando, quando...”

His voice flitted around in your head. It sounded like he was singing as you laid on his chest.

“We can share a love divine, please don’t make me wait again...”

You wish you knew when he could be yours too. It elated you that he wanted to find you just as bad as you needed to find him. You wondered aimlessly what it is that makes him so kriffing hard to find.

“Oh my darling tell me when.”

The way his voice landed softly on the last note made your heart flutter. You knew you needed to give him something in return. it had been too long since you’d given him a sign you were still there, waiting for him.

Knowing it would take him a moment to find another song that conveyed his blind love for you, you decided it was your turn.

You’d been flirting with the idea of singing back to him for a while, you’d just been waiting for the stars to align and for the man to stop singing for two kriffing seconds. Not that you really minded.

Poe almost knocked himself out cold on the frame of his X-Wing when he heard a quiet, sweet voice fill his head. The way the voice felt like it was coming from his own memory told him he was hearing his soulmate. He stilled, tools in hand and held his breath, almost worried he would scare you off if he budged.

BB-8 gave him an aggravated round of beeps when Poe ignored the tool he was trying to give him.

“Shh buddy, they’re singing.”

Happy beeps.

He was thrilled when he realized this wasn’t just you humming to yourself on accident. This was you singing to him. On purpose. He listened as you sang your way through the whole song, your voice flowing melodically through his head, making him dizzy with the love he already had for you.

“Isn’t it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me...”

You finished the sweet song and Poe held his breath, hoping you would sing to him again. When you didn’t, he felt his heart sink, but he hoped it was because you were waiting for the lullabies he sang every night while working on his ship. His way of telling you goodnight. At least, he hoped they helped you sleep rather than keeping you up. He was sure one day he’d be able to lull you to sleep while you were in his arms.

It had been a few weeks since Poe had heard your voice so clearly. He had been insanely busy in the weeks following that night that he didn’t have time to think. He had been on mission after mission, each more grueling than the last.

The Resistance was loosing people left and right. Too many good people. Poe didn’t feel like singing when his hope was dwindling down to nothing.

A bright spot in his week was the day a new recruit came to base. Anytime someone new walked onto the base, Poe made a point to introduce himself, always secretly hopeful the recruit would recognize his voice.

Today was no different. And boy was he hoping you were the one he’d been waiting for. His breath caught in his throat when he saw you at the hangar. Rey showing you around and introducing you to everyone who dared cross her line of sight.

“Poe, buddy? You good?” Finn asked. Poe had stopped talking mid sentence when he saw you.

He followed Poe’s gaze and saw you with Rey, arms hugged around your middle, obviously overwhelmed by all the people she was introducing you to.

“You wish, Dameron,” Finn laughed. “I guarantee you don’t deserve a soulmate that good looking.”

“Shut it Finn, it could be them.”

“Guess we’ll find out...” Finn clapped Poe on the back when he saw Rey leading you over to the two men.

Rey had introduced you to practically the entire base, most names going in one ear and out the other. But now she was leading you to the last two people you had to meet. ‘Best for last’ as she had told you.

A damn. She was right.

Both men were handsome, for sure. But the slightly shorter one in the orange flight suit? Maker this was going to be hard.

You’d made a habit out of turning off any sort of feelings you’ve had towards anyone in the past. You didn’t want to bother with someone that wasn’t your soulmate. Even if that meant you’d be lonely your whole life. Why would you have a half assed love when there was someone else out there that was made for you?

But Maker, this pilot was giving you butterflies. And you hadn’t even spoken to him yet. Now you had to find a way to kill the damn butterflies...

“And finally, this is Commander Poe Dameron and our friend Finn!” Rey introduced you to the two cheerfully, giving them your name.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” You said quietly, offering them a small smile before looking down at your feet. You silently tired to make the ground open up and swallow you, but once again the universe insisted you weren’t force sensitive.

“Always nice to have a new person join the cause. Where are you from?” Finn asked, trying to politely make conversation. You noted to yourself that his voice was too low to be the one in your head.

“Nowhere. And everywhere I guess? I was a smuggler for years,” You explained, heat bitting at your cheeks at the admission of your unsavory past.

“Well, we don’t judge people for that here. Do we Poe?” He hit his buddy on the back again, encouraging him to speak.

Poe seemed to be coming out of a daze when he spoke. He cleared his throat and finally spoke.

“Uh, no, nope, not at all. Very nice to meet you.” Your heart deflated when his voice came out. It sounded similar to your soulmate at first, but the more you listed the more you came to the conclusion that Poe’s voice was too raspy and rough to be his.

You and Rey said your goodbyes and she finally showed you to your quarters. How the hell are you ever going to learn your way around this base?

“Hear anything familiar?” She asked as you got to your door.

You sighed deeply, exhausted and dejected, “Nope. It’s okay Rey. I’m convinced I’ll never find him at this point.”

“That’s a shame. I thought you and Poe would probably get along well,” she gave you a knowing look. Maybe you made it obvious how attractive you found the pilot.

“It’s really okay. Thank you for showing me around base today.” You gave her a soft smile and turned to punch in the code to open your blast doors.

Your soulmate’s voice had been absent in your mind since your first day on base. You dearly missed him lulling you to sleep at night, or pleasantly interrupting you throughout the day.

Panic shot through you at the thought that maybe he had died. But every so often you would hear him softly humming to himself, keeping the spark of hope alive in your chest.

Besides that slight nagging making its way back to your head, you were having a great time getting to know Finn and Rey. You got caf with them most mornings, and would often spend nights in Rey’s quarters playing Sabacc. You hadn’t, however, seen the dashing pilot again. Finn complained a lot about missing his best friend.

“He's been so depressed lately. He wants to find his soulmate so badly, but he doesn't want to leave the cause to try to find them.” Finn explained one morning.

“He used to sing to them all the time, but I think he’s given up hope... I haven't heard him sing in ages.” Rey commented, sipping her caf.

Just as you were about to comment on your similar lack of luck in finding your soulmate, the handsome flyboy himself walked up to your table in the mess hall.

“Hey guys, mind if I sit?” He asked in that damned raspy voice.

Poe wasn’t necessarily happy to be spending so much time apart from his best friends. They were the only things keeping him sane sometimes. But now they chose to spend every waking hour with that aggravatingly cute new recruit.

Poe was a friendly guy. Some may argue too friendly. But he didn't want to be around you. Actually, this issue is that he did want to be around you. Very much so.

You were a dream walking into Poe's line of vision. He suddenly felt like everything was in slow motion when he caught a glimpse of you in the hangar. You looked so nervous, arms crossed over your chest, shifting your weight as Rey made it her life’s mission to introduce you to the entire base. His mouth popped open like he was the star in a damn holomovie.

When Rey pointed your attention to his general direction, Poe's mouth felt like cotton. Which muscle did he use to breathe again? Oh Maker, you could probably see his heart beating through his chest.

He hated that he got his hopes up like that. And Finn was right, he didn't deserve a soulmate as ethereal as you.

Then of course there was the devastating (albeit familiar) ache when you didn't give him any inclination that you recognized his voice. Poe didn't want to waste his time with anyone that wasn't his soulmate. He didn't want to put either party through unnecessary heartbreak when they both knew it wasn't written in the stars for you to be together. He had to distance himself from you.

But it had been about a week since you first flew onto his radar. And you took the liberty of crossing his mind everyday since then. He knew he was risking falling for someone that he wasn't meant to be with, but he missed his friends. Sure, Poe was sad about his failed mission of finding his soulmate, but nothing could keep him down for too long.

When Finn nodded for Poe to join, he scrapped his chair across the permacrete. He was purposefully sat next to you and across from Rey and Finn so he didn't end up looking in your direction for an inappropriate amount of time. But now he could feel the warmth emminating from you and smell the same waft of lavender her recognized when he first met you. Kriff.

“Where have you been man?” Finn questioned him. “Avoiding us?”

“Nah, nothing like that,” Poe lied. “I’ve just been working on my ship.”

“She must be in pretty good shape if you’re spending that much time on her,” You quipped. Shit, you hoped Poe enjoyed a good tease like his friends did.

He gave you a lopsided smile, “You’ll have to come see her.”

Unfortunately, the conversation continued on like this. Gentle, teasing, light conversation. It was easy. And Poe knew he was going to get hurt.

Your quick, light footsteps could be heard echoing through the halls towards your quarters. Alongside them was the heavy slow footsteps of the pilot you’d spent the whole day with. A chuckle rumbled through his chest as you reached the door to your quarters.

You turned to face him and leaned up against the cold durasteel of your blast doors. There was a moment with no words shared between the two of you, just comfortable silence.

Poe was so busy just looking at you that he didn't think twice before tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. He immediately pulled back and hastily shoved both hands in his pocket. He could’t help but notice the flustered smile creeping up on your lips. Damn, he’d like to make you smile like that more.

No, no. He had a soulmate to look forward to. He hoped. This wouldn’t end well.

“Hey I wanted to apologize for the lack of usual ‘welcome wagon’ Poe this week. I just... I’m having a hard time finding my soulmate and I wasn't exactly in the right head space. I didn’t want your first impression of me to be depressed Poe.” He rubbed the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable with the oversharing he couldn’t seem to help.

“Don't worry about it. Finn and Rey may have mentioned something about you being upset about that this week. I completely understand.”

“I take it you haven't found them?”

“Not yet, but I still hear him all the time so I have hope at least.”

Poe’s heart sank a bit. He hadn't been singing lately.

“I’m sure you’ll find him then. Goodnight, thank you for today.”

“’Night Poe,” you smiled, turning to punch in the code to open your doors.

Poe was sat cross legged across from BB-8 in his charging station.

“I don’t know buddy. I feel.... Guilty?” He nervously picked at the skin around his thumb nail.

A series of confused beeps came from the droid.

“I guess I feel guilty that I spent the day with that new recruit and that I’m starting to have feelings for them when I have someone out there waiting for me. I wish this war would end so I could go find them.” He lamented to his little buddy.

BB-8 let out a sweet melody, sounding like an automated songbird.

“Yeah you’re right. I’ll sing to them tonight, that should help me feel closer to them. Plus it's been a while, I’ll bet they miss this gorgeous voice.”

He stood up and made his way to the refresher to wash off the day. He made it a cold shower to wash off his feelings for you. He wracked his brain for a song that would describe how he was feeling that day. When he came up empty, he resorted to the song he had fist sung a few weeks prior. Maybe since it prompted you to sing last time, he could have the chance to hear your voice again.

“Tell me when will you be mine? Tell me quando, quando, quando...”

When you heard the voice in the back of your head, you heart faltered. He was okay. Relief washed over you in a great, calming wave.

“We can share a love divine, please don’t make me wait again...”

Your soulmate’s sweet voice cleaned away all the feelings you had developed for Poe. His soft voice felt like home to you and was soon causing your eyes to grow heavy.

“Oh my darling tell me when.”

He finished his lullaby with the usual soft tones that you already loved so dearly. Being friends with Poe was going to be difficult, but it would be worth it when you found your soulmate. His voice would always pull you back home to him.

everything taglist: @softly-sad @clumsy-writing-rdb

#poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x reader #star wars imagine #poe x reader #poe dameron fic #in my head

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theimprobabledreamersworld · 3 years

Text

Finally got another one shot done! This is based very heavily off of a Doctor Who scene which I absolutely adore <3 Hope you enjoy!. Read on Ao3 or under the line!

General writing taglist: @psychedelicships @jwillowwolf @red-imeanblue @lost-in-thought-20 @writerwithtoomanyships (I know you’re not on my taglist @edupunkn00b but you liked the snippet I wrote for a handwriting game, so I thought you’d like to see the whole thing! <3)

If anyone would like to be added to my general writing taglist, let me know! <3

Virgil paced around the small room with anger racing through his veins. The next time he eventually sees his ‘husband’, he is going to have some extremely angry words to say to him. Over the last ten years, he has been kidnapped by Logan’s enemies seven times. Which is fine, it comes with the paperwork when you marry an international and notorious thief with an incredible track record. He just wished that he wasn’t used as leverage by so many people. He could never be sure that Logan would save him, and this time it was certainly not a guarantee because he hadn’t seen Logan for over three years. Virgil received the occasional letter but could never respond to them as he wouldn’t put a returning address. He understands that it’s just to keep him safe, that didn’t stop him from feeling angry at Logan.

Hello, Darling.

Logan/Virgil

Word Count: 2308

Warnings: Very mild cursing and threat.

He couldn’t help but jump slightly when he heard a firm knock on the door and a timid face peered around the opening gap.

“Urm… Hi. I’m Roman. I have to take you down to the office; he wants to talk.” Virgil sighed and reluctantly walked behind Roman as they took a scenic route through the building. He had to admit, this was the most comfortable kidnapping he’s ever been involved in, and when he saw the piping hot tea sitting on an elegant coffee table, it almost felt like it was going to be a polite conversation. There were no weapons this time, which was reassuring, but the several figures lurking in the shadows reduced his confidence significantly.

All of the men stepped forward at once, Virgil gulped before he was encouraged to sit down by the man in the middle. The man smiled and Virgil felt even more concerned now, it was never good when a kidnapper smiled… he knew that from experience.

“Let’s get the embarrassing details out of the way, my name in Janus. This is Patton, Roman you’ve already met and Remus. He’s a pussy cat really, don’t let the menacing face fool you. Virgil looked at each of them in turn and curled into himself a little. He genuinely didn’t know what was happening here. He looked around him for the main exits in case he needed to run away, and he saw another person who wasn’t introduced. A butler, dressed in all black was busy polishing some silverware. This made everything even more confusing for Virgil, but if they were letting the butler stick around, at least hurting or killing him wasn’t top of their agenda.

“Come now, Virgil. I’m not going to harm you, I’m just a friend of Logan’s.” Janus smiled once again, but with a sinister undertone this time and Virgil’s brow furrowed in confusion. He gulped softly before mustering the courage to talk.

“A friend?!” His voice was full of mock surprise and Janus raised an eyebrow in return, almost as if he wasn’t expecting Virgil to engage in any kind of conversation. Remus turned his head towards Virgil growled deeply, so Janus waved a hand nonchalantly and chuckled.

“Alright, alright. An enemy then.” His eyes glimmered with malicious intent and Virgil’s eyes widened at how things had taken a turn so quickly. He put on a pretense of relief and hoped Janus would buy the bravado.

“Oh… which one?” Janus’ smile dropped and his eyes began to cloud over, apparently it was clear that the time for games was over, and Virgil was silently regretting his choices in his mind. Janus slowly spun the chair around and fell into it gracefully. The room began to darken, and Virgil knew that this was where things might get messy.

“Okay, enough games. I grow weary of this. Where is Logan?” Janus slammed his hand down on the table and Virgil realised that he could gain the upper hand in this scenario. He shrugged and darted his eyes around the room.

“Haven’t the faintest idea.” All four men looked at Virgil with an incredulous look in the eye. It’s no surprise that they don’t believe him, but for once in this scenario, he was actually telling the truth. Logan could literally be anywhere. He heard a clatter and remembered the butler who had just dropped a piece of silverware, he frantically picked it up and turned his back to the group.

Janus continued to look at Virgil directly in the eyes, as if he was waiting patiently for Virgil to crumble and break down in front of him and slyly remarks “Come on Virgil, is that credible?”

“It’s truth. Go ahead. Check whatever records you may have about his last whereabouts. You’ll probably find out more than me.” He spoke with a spiteful tone and another man stepped forward with an extremely worried expression.

"B- but you're the man that he loves!" Virgil couldn’t help but laugh at the sincerity of his statement, almost as if he was talking about them like they were some kind of fairytale. He continued to laugh in their faces. The men all looked at each other, and Remus banged in fist against the table, and it brought Virgil back to the task at hand. The longer he was involved in this conversation, the more his insecurities took over and he couldn’t stop his raised voice. "No I'm not! Logan does not and has never loved me." He covered in mouth in shock at the fact that he just shouted a very false statement. Unbeknownst to Virgil, the butler flinched in the background as well.

Patton interrupts again while Janus looks on in confusion. "So my information was correct then. You are the man who loves Logan!" There was an odd mix of confusion and triumph on Patton’s face, there was nothing wrong with what he just said, but the doubt still consumed his mind.

Virgil agrees with a new-found confidence in his voice. "I never denied it. But he's Logan after all. A notorious thief. The most meticulous criminal and the cleverest soul I've ever met. If you think that someone like him is that ordinary, to be staying in love with someone like me... then you have no idea who you're dealing with." Virgil continued to adamantly make his case, yet he still remained oblivious to the butler who had gradually put down his polishing cloth and had slowly made his way closer to the centre of the room.

Janus stands in front of Virgil completely dumbfounded at this point. This clearly wasn’t the way this was supposed to go. Virgil had to admit that he didn’t think he would stay this strong for so long, but it was working. If he bought enough time, maybe… just maybe… Logan might somehow come and save him. "I was assured that you would be the perfect bait! If you were in danger. Logan would come running!"

Despite the small slither of hope Virgil felt, he knew he needed to keep it buried deep down, or he would lose this battle. He needed to keep going, they were starting to crack, he knew it. "Oh, you are a moron then!"

Janus bowed his head and took a deep breath. He regained his composure and looked at Virgil smirking with malicious intent once again before pressing a button underneath the desk. "We both know he's probably already here, he's the master of disguises and this isn't exactly the first time he's had to save you.” He chuckled smugly as a barrage of clicks echoed around the room. Virgil tried to hide the panic in his eyes, he didn’t know what was going to happen now, but the total lockdown of the room was enough to induce all of emotions to come to the foreground and he couldn’t stop what he said next. The butler was now standing directly behind Virgil, and if he had noticed, he would have realised that Janus wasn’t looking at Virgil at all. He was looking behind him that entire time.

"No he isn't. Of course, he isn't! Go on! Look around this place, send your cronies on a wild goose chase. He won't be here! I mean, you can't miss him. Stupid polo shirt, stupid tie and the stupidest pair of glasses you’ve seen. That should be a big enough clue!" He huffed as his chest rose and fell angrily, all the rage he felt when he was first brought to this place bubble to the surface. The butler coughed lightly before calling out timidly, "Virgil..."

"God knows where he is right now, but I promise you, he's doing whatever the HELL he wants because he doesn't give a damn about me!" Virgil shouted out at the ceiling; his arms raised above his head in an aggressive stance. He silently cursed the heavens themselves as the butler tried once again to get Virgil’s attention. He stood right behind Virgil’s ear and called his name once again.

“Virgil!”

He didn’t even realise that his name was being called, he was so consumed by his emotions that he let them flow like an uncontrollable stream of consciousness. "And I'm just fine with that! When you love someone like Logan, it's like loving the stars themselves. You don't expect a sunset to admire you back. And if I find myself in danger, let me tell you... Logan is not stupid enough, or sentimental enough and he is certainly not in love enough to find himself standing in it with me!!"

The room fell silent, the butler had been waiting with bated breath for Virgil to realise that he was standing next to him, but he still hadn’t noticed. So eventually, he took hold of Virgil’s wrist lightly. Virgil took a few breaths before looking once, looking twice, then looking a final time before holding his focus on the butler’s face. Virgil stared into his eyes, and they glimmer with recognition. As he gasps, the butler smiles back softly before finally whispering "Hello, Darling."

“Oh I hate you.” Virgil smirks as he realised that Logan had been in the room the whole time.

“No, you don’t. I have to admit, that was a spectacular performance you did just now.”

“Shut up!”

“I mean, I never knew you cared that much.” Their bickering was interrupted by a timid cough coming from in front of them. Logan and Virgil looked at Janus in irritation. How dare he interrupt mummy and daddy talking?! At least it confirmed one thing in Virgil’s mind, they definitely acted like an old married couple.

“Urm, I hate to break up this touching reunion, but I believe we have business to attend to.” Janus held a hand out sarcastically, motioning for Logan to give him something and he just raised an eyebrow in response.

“Oh, where are my manners? First, get rid of your boys.” Janus raised an eyebrow with a tone that screamed why should he follow his orders. Logan looked around the room, eyeing the exits and planning in his mind. Virgil stepped back and let him work, it was the best thing to do… because they are going to regret messing with Logan.

“I don’t like being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room.” Janus frowned then nodded at Roman, Patton and Remus to leave. They reluctantly make their way to the only unlocked room in the building which was located behind Janus. Remus refused to move initially until Janus snapped his fingers and Remus growled one final time before going through the door and slamming it shut.

“Well. You’re trapped now, Logan. I have the high ground here. Give me, what I want… and I won’t harm Virgil.” Janus held his hand out once again and motioned for something from Logan. It caused Logan to laugh wildly and wipe a tear from his eye. Janus stepped forward, ready to grab Virgil in order to get what he wants.

“Oh Janus, Janus, Janus. You’ve made a big mistake my friend. There is one thing you don’t put in a trap, if you’re smart. If you value your continued existence. If you have any plans of continuing your sordid little business for many years to come, there is one thing you should never ever put in a trap.” He wrapped an arm around Virgil and began to move him away from Janus, towards the now unguarded door. Janus chuckled while being oblivious to what was going on, he was adamant that he still had the high ground after all.

“And what would that be?” Virgil glanced up at Logan with adoration, Logan smirked before pulling a small device out of his pocket and raising it in front of Janus’ eyes. When Janus noticed what he was holding, he shrunk away and pinned himself against the wall.

“… Me.” Logan pressed the switch, and a thick smoke began to fill the room. Virgil heard Janus coughing as the two of them ran through the unlocked door. The coast was clear, and they kept running through the house until they were hit by bright sunlight. On the main road, Virgil stopped them and wrapped his arms around Logan, and he felt a tight grip around his waist in response. It was almost too good to be true but, deep down, he knew that Logan would have saved him. He kissed his cheek gently before staring into Logan’s ocean eyes.

“Well, after everything I’ve put you through. I definitely owe you a date. Dinner? My treat?” Virgil smiled and nodded. They took each other’s hands and headed to a car that was parked nearby. As Logan drove, Virgil stared out of the window smiling softly.

Despite it all. He wouldn’t change anything for the world. He was the husband of a thief, a thief who stole his heart many years ago… and he always would be.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #doctor who references #ts fanfic #ts fandom #sanders sides fanfiction

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write-ur-wrongs · 4 years

Text

I can’t thank you enough for you kindness and patience with this request! I was nervous to write a HoH reader, but I truly hope I’ve done them justice. Please let me know what you think :)

Hi could I request a Geralt x hard of hearing (HoH) reader? Could be hcs or maybe reader is nervous that they'll be a burden for geralt & jaskier to travel with? Ty!

The sun was about to set as you reached your destination, and while your feet throbbed angrily, you were glad to have powered on earlier in the day. You weren’t afraid of the woods at night, but you weren’t willing to fight for free. If you were going to kill, you were going to collect.

As you entered the town, you took note of its state. Multiple villagers were milling around the alleys, chatting under lanterns and clearing out their market stalls for the day. You were happy to see that this village was busy; villages with plenty of children and elders often had plenty of jobs needing to be done.

Your optimism was quickly dampened though, when you saw that there were only three signs on the notice board. Letting your bag drop to your feet with a huff, you massaged your shoulder as you scanned the board for anything worthwhile.

“Oh, thank god!” you muttered, upon seeing the first ad. It was posted by the town healer who was looking for an extensive collection of herbs – a collection you already had in your pack. Plus, they lived just off the town square, so you could drop off the herbs on your way to the inn.

The next ad was from someone begging for an exorcism for their child, who had apparently become possessed by a devil. You skipped it quickly, screwing your face up in disgust. You weren’t about to try that again.

The final post was from a local farmer requesting assistance in dealing with a banshee – this caught your attention. You felt like you’d struck gold here; there was no creature better suited to your abilities – or as some might say, lack thereof.

You were a little bitter that half the post had been torn off, so you had no idea who you were looking for, only where to look; the pub.

You hated a lot of things and many places, but if there was one thing you really couldn’t stand, it was small enclosed areas where hoards of people went to get drunk and shout. Between the collective shouting and slurring, you could never make heads or tails of what anyone was saying.

Sighing through your nose, you tore the rest of the ad off the board, picked up your bag and made way for the healer’s house before seeking out the pub.

Fortunately, the healer was beyond grateful for your herbs, and paid you handsomely for them. Weighing your bag of coin roughly in your hand, you contemplated whether or not a visit to the pub would be worth it.

While the healer paid you really well, that was no guarantee of long-term comfort. In the last village, you ended up paying more for a room at the inn than you’d made slaying two of their local terrors. You knew ridding someone of a banshee would pay well, but gods, you hated pubs.

It seemed fate made the decision on your behalf, however, as the pub and the inn were in the same building – you’d have to go into the pub to get yourself a room for the night.

Well, fuck, you thought, hiking your bag up higher on your shoulder, readying yourself for the dull and disorienting drone that awaited you inside. Here goes nothing.

It was loud; so loud in fact, that you could feel it. You looked around hoping that the person you were looking for would somehow make themselves known, but all you saw were groups of rowdy men shouting and shoving one-another around the crowded space.

But just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, you spotted a bard. And he was really putting it on for the crowd.

Rolling your eyes, you pulled your bag up closer to yourself, conscious of the limited space, and plowed on. Once at the bar, you took a moment to lean up against it and tried to get your bearings. You’ve been living with your condition for most of your life now, having lost the majority of your hearing after an accident, but you didn’t think you’d ever get used to the overwhelming buzz that surrounded you in loud spaces. There was no discernable sound per say, it was all just noise.

You were lost in your discomfort when you felt someone grab at your elbow. You whipped your head around and found yourself face to face with a drunk woman.

“’e’s been askin’ ya a question!” she shouted at you, nodding to the bartender.

“Oh,” you exclaim, “thank you.” You say, pulling your arm out of her grasp and turning to face the bar, and impatient bartender.

“As I’ve been sayin’, ’ow can I ‘elp ya?” he says, leaning towards you to be heard above the noise.

“I need a room,” you said, leaning in yourself, “and I need to find the person who posted this.” You slam the torn ad on the bar and slide it towards him.

“Up the stairs, first door ‘o the left,” he says, sliding you a key, “and no need to worry ‘bout that lass, ‘e’s taken care o’ it, yeah?” As he said this though, he turned his face away from you to gesture towards the man in question.

Unable to read his lips, you looked to where he pointed in frustration, but all you saw was an over-confident bard strut around like a fool. You scoffed and turned back to the bartender to ask him to repeat himself, but he’d already walked off to serve someone else.

Scoffing, you grabbed the key to your room off the bar and stalked off in the direction he had pointed. You really hated pubs.

Seeing a new face, the bard danced his way over to you and blocked your path, clearly trying to make an impression. You pushed past him, rolling your eyes and muttering expletives. Despite his quick recovery, you could tell your dismissiveness stung him by the way his eyes fell, but you had no patience for bards.

With the flamboyant man behind you, you took another look around the space, meaning to head upstairs to your room, but that’s when you spotted it. A wolf-head medallion, glimmering under the low light of the pub.

And the man wearing it? The White Wolf himself.

You knew this is who the bartender was referring to. There was definitely no one else in your line of sight who could handle a banshee and then settle into a pub like it was nothing.

And the most frustrating thing? He looked bored. Bored! This man just robbed you of your livelihood then settled into the local pub like it was nothing?

The whole ‘hero’ narrative that was used when referring to the White Wolf definitely made sense now that you saw him. He was broad and brooding. Like, exceptionally broad. And extraordinarily brooding. Like nothing could phase him; but Gods, you were going to try.

Another slew of expletives left your lips as you charged up to him. The man didn’t even look up when you arrived at his table. It took you slamming the add down on his table for him to put down the tankard and look at you.

“You stole my job”, you said, putting your bag down and sitting across from him.

“Excuse me?” he said, he said in a low, gravely tone, fixing you with his intense stare. You’d never met a witcher before and his eyes caught you off guard.

You tapped your fingers against the torn piece of paper on the table and said, “Maybe next time, take the whole add down so others don’t get their hopes up?” You pushed the paper towards him with emphasis as you punctuated the last word.

He quirked up a brow, leaned back into his seat, and smirked a little as he sized you up.

“Tearing down posts to prevent competition,” he said, “is that your move?”

You tilted your head at him with furrowed brows. While you were relieved to that he spoke slowly and deliberately, so you could read his lips with ease, his devil-may-care air was pissing you off.

“It’s common curtesy,” you said, “if you’re taking care of it. You take it down.”

“Hm.” He said, behind his pint, not that you could hear him. He took a sip of his ale with curious, raised brows. “And if you fail to take care of their problem?”

“Wouldn’t be the end of the world,” you said, crossing your arms. “Besides, I always follow-through.”

“Always, hm?”

“Yes, witcher, always. And would you like to know why that is?”

The corner of his mouth curled up into another smirk as he gestured you to continue.

“I only take jobs,” you tap the piece of paper between the two of, holding his gaze, “I know I can do.”

You saw something in his face change as he considered your words. Slowly, he set his drink down and leaned forward, connecting the dots.

“So, you’ve been the reason every town I’ve passed has had nothing to offer,” he said, “no monsters anywhere for weeks – or so it seemed. I was beginning to think the world had sorted itself out.”

As he spoke, you looked from his mouth to his eyes quickly, following every word. He noticed this but said nothing, and for that you were grateful.

“Now witcher, please,” you said, feeling bold, “don’t tell me you’ve gone your long life having never encountered competition in your line of work?”

“None like you.”

You sat together in silence for a few moments, a strange comfort settling in.

You weren’t used to having such quick banter. Normally you missed half of what people said and got too frustrated to ask them to repeat themselves. It was nice to be fully engaged in the conversation for once. It was such a small thing, but you found yourself fighting back a wave of sadness as you realized how much you missed these moments of connection.

“Well,” you said, breaking the spell and moving to get up, “just, um, take down the posts in the future, alright witcher?”

“Geralt.”

“Yes, Geralt,” you smile, “of Rivia, the White Wolf, the butcher of Blaviken.” You count the names off your fingers one by one as you get up from the table, making Geralt fight back a smile himself.

“Wait – what’s your name?” he says a little too late, you already had you back turned. Hesitantly, he reached his hand out towards you and caught your hand in his, letting go the instant you turned back, looking down on him curiously.

“Sorry – I, hm, what is your name?”

“Y/N” you state simply.

Geralt quirks up a brow, waiting for you to go on. When you didn’t, he cleared his throat.

“Y/N… of?”

“Of nowhere of importance,” you say, “it’s just Y/N.”

“Hm.” He nods at you in an unspoken understanding, holding your gaze as you took a few steps backwards and away from him.

Just as you turn to make your way towards the stairs, you find yourself face to face with the bard. He’s looking from you to Geralt with eyes wide in confusion and curiosity. You smile to yourself as you push past him to the stairs.

You’re about to unlock the door to your room when you feel the floor vibrate beneath your feet. Someone of substantial weight was running up the wooden stairs behind you.

You turn quickly, your hand finding the hilt of your sword. But you release your grip when you see it was Geralt. Behind him you saw the bard craning his neck to stare through the bannisters, now looking positively concerned.

You thought you heard Geralt say something while you were looking down at the troubadour. Quickly, you brought your gaze back to him, looking from his mouth to his eyes. He was looking at you expectantly, so he was probably waiting for a reply. Fuck.

“Sorry,” you say, gesturing to your ear with your free hand, “I can’t, I mean, I didn’t hear you.”

Something seemed to click in his mind, because he took a step closer to you before repeating himself.

“What if there was no competition?” he said, thankfully at the same tone as he spoke to you downstairs. Once you registered his words however, you squinted at him playfully.

“Are you threatening me, Geralt?”

“Hm,” he bit back a smirk and shook his head, “No, Y/N. Travel with us, we will split the coin, double our workloads.”

“Us?” you had never heard of the White Wolf travelling with a group. Thinking you might have heard him wrong, and tired of needing to reply on lip reading; you unlock your door and push your way in, nodding for Geralt to follow you.

“Sorry, I don’t think I heard you right.” You say, dropping your bag on the bed with a thud.

“I’m asking you to join me on my travels, we can work together and split the coin.”

You took in his words slowly, drinking them in. Down in the in the pub, you could see his words, at times, feel them; but hearing them? That was something you truly weren’t expecting. Geralt had what might be the deepest voice you’ve ever heard.

“You said, ‘us’, before,” you said, sitting on the chair in the corner and removing your boots, “isn’t that what you said?”

“Hm,” he hummed, you watched him closely. Oh, the things you missed when you couldn’t hear, you thought sullenly. “You’re right, I did. The bard, Jaskier, he’s with me.”

“The bard?!” you laughed, finding it impossible to picture the broad brooding man before you with the man you saw downstairs. “And you tolerate him?”

“Hm,” he laughed through his nose, “I’ve learned to tune him out.”

“Hm?” you repeat, teasingly, picking up on his verbal tick, “Is that so?”

He squints at you in mock contempt, and makes a scene of standing up from the edge of the bed where he’d settled.

“I take back my offer,” he states, turning his head so you could see him say as well as hear him, as he makes his way for the door.

“Geralt, wait,” you exclaim through what was left of your laughter, “you really want me to join you? Despite my…” you gesture vaguely to your ears.

The witcher stopped in his tracks and looks down at you meaningfully.

“Y/N,” he says, “you said it yourself, you and I are currently fighting for the same work, and you’ve proven yourself to be an extraordinary fighter – villages up and down the continent has benefitted from your work.”

He takes another step closer to you before finishing his thought.

“Despite your…” he mimics your previous gesture with a small smile.

“I really don’t want to be a burden to you,” you say, in a small voice, “or Jaskier, the bard, or anyone.”

“Impossible.” He states firmly, leaving no room for argument, but his eyes betrayed a gentleness.

You had to admit it was an amazing offer. To no longer be alone. To be with someone who spoke to you with respect, not yelling at you or mocking you for your condition. Working within a team would also allow you a sense of security you haven’t known for, well, far too long.

Geralt must have sensed that you were nearing a decision because he placed his hand on your shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, eyes never leaving yours.

“I was planning on leaving this village tomorrow…” you start, “and if you’re certain –”

“– I am.”

“Well, then I guess we leave tomorrow.” You say, putting your hand over his, and returning the comfort he had given you.

“Perfect.” He says, gentle eyes holding yours for another moment before he cast them downward and pull his hand away.

Once he was well out of your room and you had made your way to bed, you finally began accepting the reality of what you had agreed to.

After years of living in the shadows, ashamed of who you where and what you couldn’t do. You’d be a part of a team. One that would value you and lean on you for support as much as you did them.

You settled into your bed and closed your eyes, letting the welcomed silence wash over you. You supposed you’d have to learn to tune out the bard too. At least you had an advantage.

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imaginesandinserts · 4 years

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Irreverent Pt. 41 - Promises

Title: Irreverent Pt. 41 - Promises Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: 5789

Irreverent Series Masterlist

It was only the second day of the New York case and the team was still building the profile on the unsub. You were all settled into the conference room and reviewing the case with fresh eyes. You were validating the geographic profile Reid had built and circled a potential centroid for the attacks. Looking back at him, he nods, agreeing with your addition. Everyone broke for lunch when Rossi came back carrying the sandwiches from your favorite Italian deli in the city.

"Okay, I need thirty minutes of talking about anything but the case," JJ says, leaning back in her chair and popping a potato chip into her mouth.

Hotch, Reid, and Rossi were already engaged in a discussion around unsubs who chose arson as their means of killing. You knew Rossi was collecting material for his next book and you'd made him promise to let you read a draft when he had more.

"Well, Eastwood has been blowing me off," Emily responds, fulfilling JJ's request for a case-free lunch.

"When was your last date?" Derek asks, swiping chips out of your bag. Apparently he didn't want his barbeque flavored ones anymore. You shake your head, exchanging chip bags with him.

"We hung out two weeks ago at his place. Netflix and chilled, as the kids say," she answers.

"Well that's your problem," you tell her, taking a large bite of your sandwich. It was perfect, just how you remembered it. You might love Georgetown, but food in New York would always be superior.

At her raised eyebrow, you continue. "You hang out with men you have romantic interest in. You're not supposed to just hang out with them. That makes them passive. You want them to plan a date, court you, put in some effort."

"Didn't you and Hotch hang out all the time before you got together?" JJ questions.

Aaron turns at the sound of his name to tune in to the other conversation at the table.

"That's different. We didn't start out romantically. I've never hung out with a man who I'm only interested in dating. You want to stay in the girlfriend box, not the friend and sexual partner box," you explain, sharing a look with Aaron. He knew your views on dating very well by now. You were old school when it came to things like that, which was good because so was he. Aaron always put in the time and effort to plan dates for the two of you, despite your busy work schedules and Jack. After you had moved in together, you'd told him he didn't have to do that, but he liked doing it. He enjoyed the process of planning something special, the two of you getting dressed up, and seeing your eyes light up when you figured out what he had in mind for the night. It might not happen as much as in the beginning, but that only made it more noteworthy when it did.

"Hmm, so you're saying I should stop hanging out with him? Blow him off?"

"Yes, let him put in the effort. You are a lady, you deserve to be treated as such. And if he doesn't try, then good riddance. You can do better than some middle aged man whose idea of a date is inviting you over to his couch. Regardless, you shouldn't be dating just one person anyways until he's your boyfriend."

Emily hums, taking a bite of her sandwich and thinking over what you said. You know she's going to realize the validity of it. Especially if Eastwood lets her down again.

Suddenly there's a loud commotion coming from outside the precinct and you all look around curiously. It sounds like a bunch of people arguing with one another. Derek gets up and peeks out through the blinds to see what's going on.

"Looks like a bunch of photographers," he says, moving to open the blinds entirely.

"No, don't." You stand to stop him and see the team look at you curiously.

"It's probably just reporters wanting details on the case," Aaron says, looking at you oddly. You've abandoned your sandwich entirely and you have a panicked look on your face that seems disparate with the situation.

"It's photographers, right? Not reporters and news cameras?" you ask.

Derek peeks out again and scans the crowd, before turning back and nodding.

"What's going on?" Aaron asks.

"It's not for the case," you tell him, a frown on your face. You'd been a little worried about this happening but hopeful that it had been long enough that it might not be an issue. With that, you walk out to speak with one of the uniformed officers in the precinct, leaving the entire team questioning what was happening.

Aaron and Derek left to join you, while the rest of them waited in the conference room and watched through the glass panes. However, before Aaron can ask you what's going on, the officer you'd spoken with is leading a man back in while holding a camera. Aaron appraises the man who is quite obviously one of the photographers from outside. He appears to be a run-of-the-mill paparazzi type and Aaron can see the Page Six credentials dangling on a lanyard around his neck.

"Y/N L/N, it's really you!"

"Hi Terry," you reply, kissing both of his cheeks.

"You summoned me?" he asks, an exasperated lilt in his tone, indicating to the officer dangling his camera by its strap.

" Some psychopath is running around the city setting fires. I can't do my job if there's going to be photographers hounding me the second I step outside. Help me out."

"The people are curious, Y/N. Mysterious enigma party girl turned federal agent. The public wants to know!"

Terry was a reasonable guy, you know you can reach some sort of compromise with him. You have before. He's the reason you were able to travel to New York back and forth undetected for the time you were in your training.

"Help me out here, Terry," you ask again.

"Well," he starts, and you can detect the scheming tone in his voice, "there is this club opening on Friday. I suppose I could get everyone to back off if you were guaranteed to make an appearance."

You know he'll be getting some sort of kick back from the club for securing you. You glance at Aaron from the side of your eye, wondering what he's thinking of all of this. You know you have to agree otherwise there's no way you or the team can get in and out of the precinct easily. It's a small price to pay in order to be able to do your job in peace.

You nod, agreeing to Terry's request. "You'll handle everything," you tell him.

"Of course," he agrees, throwing you his most dazzling smile. "I'll need a little something exclusive, but I'll make it work. Bring your friends too," he says, eyeing Aaron and Derek. "We could use some more yummy specimens in the background shots."

You let out a small laugh at that, seeing both Derek and Aaron look the slightest bit flustered. Terry takes his leave with a flirty wave. You turn to Derek who is looking at you in equal parts confusion and amusement. "Tell Penelope. We're going clubbing Friday." You know she won't want to miss this.

Finally, you turn to Aaron, apprehensive of his reaction. Aaron hadn't been around this sort of life before - the deals with paparazzi, being hounded and tracked - it had taken a lot for you to escape it before.

Aaron, for his part, knew that it took a lot out of you to agree to that deal and that you only did it for the team and the case. He didn't have to know how it was for you back then, in order to know that this wasn't you anymore. You were fiercely private with your life now, and having it exposed in this way had to be difficult. On your face, he can see the insecurity at having this part of your old life at play again. Sensing that you need a moment, he turns and sees Detective Lewis exiting his office and he asks to borrow it for a minute.

"Come on," he says, leading you inside and closing the door behind you. "Are you alright?"

You turn to him, glad to be away from everyone's prying eyes. Taking a deep breath, you start to explain to him that you're sorry that this happened but you're certain it was the easiest option, but he cuts you off.

"I didn't ask for an explanation. I asked if you're alright."

You look at him and note that he doesn't seem upset with you. Concerned and worried, yes. But not upset. That's somewhat of a relief. You nod, but can't resist walking up to him and burying your face into his chest. "I just thought this part of my life was over. I should've known better."

Aaron wraps his arms around you, resting his chin at the top of your head. "You don't have to do the club thing. We can figure out something else."

"No," you mumble. "This is easiest. It'll be more work figuring out something else."

He looks down at you as you're leaned against him, letting him support you. He knows that the team could figure out alternatives. Start leaving from the back door, having you stay behind, any number of things. But he knows you'd hate them all having to do workarounds the rest of the case simply because of your presence, which is the only reason he concedes. "Okay, if you're sure."

You nod, going up on you toes and pressing a light kiss to his lips. "Thank you for not freaking out."

He looks at you curiously. Sometimes you said things like this - thanking him for not overreacting to something or being surprised when he simply doesn't care about you flirting with other men. He wagers Matthew had been like that - jealous and reactionary. Which was not to say that Aaron didn't get jealous. He knew the way most men behaved around you. You had an easy, effervescent quality that people gravitated towards. However, he knew where he stood with you and you weren't the kind of person who would ever betray him. There was no reason for him to get worked up about other men. Even this situation, he didn't understand why you were thanking him. It wasn't your fault.

"Nothing to freak out about," he tells you, his voice calm and reassuring.

The two of you stay like that for another moment before leaving to join the rest of the team.

*------------*

JJ and you are reviewing the victimology one more time, to make sure nothing was missed. You're restless because the team has been in New York for three whole days already and it doesn't feel like you're any closer to an answer. The profile exists but it doesn't point to anyone specific. In a city like New York, there really was no shortage of crazy people.

Your eyes are starting to glaze over as you read through the statements from the family members, your fingers toying absentmindedly with the pendant on your necklace. It had been a gift from Jack and Aaron on your birthday. A small vintage gold pendant with an emerald on a gold chain - unobtrusive and very much your style. You only took it off when you absolutely had to.

With a frustrated sigh, you look up to see JJ equally done with the files in front of her. She looks far away, one hand fidgeting with a lock of hair and the other resting on her still flat stomach. You'd been watching JJ ever since you found out she was pregnant. Some natural impulse to make sure she was alright and comfortable. You knew she'd hate the extra attention, so you tried to be discreet about it, but you couldn't help yourself. She'd seemed off ever since she'd told everyone that she was pregnant and you had this odd feeling that maybe it wasn't exactly what she wanted.

Glancing around to make sure no one else was in earshot, you whisper, "Hey Jayje."

JJ looks up at you as if drawn from deep thought. It definitely hadn't been about the case.

"Are you okay?" you ask. "You know, with everything?" You indicate towards her hand on her stomach.

She appears thrown by the question and you know she hadn't thought anyone could tell that something was wrong. Sighing, you watch as she shifts to sit up straighter and leans towards you more. "I'm supposed to be happy, right?"

"You're not supposed to be anything. Whatever you are is what you're supposed to be," you tell her, standing to move to the chair right next to her.

"I grew up in a small town. You're supposed to get married, pop out a few kids, make your home for your husband. Here I am, already in my late thirties, with only one kid, a husband who I've made into essentially a stay at home father, while I jet off and play hero." The conflict of subverting the expectations she's been told to adhere to is evident in her voice.

You know very well how difficult it is to go against what is expected of you. You nod, knowing she has more she wants to get out.

Prompted by you, she continues, "Another kid, when I'm already barely there for my first - while I feel like I'm falling behind at work because now I'll have to be off again, while I'll have another child that'll add to the stress and chaos of our lives - I don't know. It just feels - I'm not sure how I feel."

You sigh, reaching out and grabbing her hand. She squeezes yours tightly and you can feel the slight tremor she's battling as she spoke.

"Do you want another child?" you ask softly, looking into her eyes.

She closes her eyes for a moment, giving herself time to think over your question. "Yes, I do."

"Okay."

"But I'm an agent too - I like my job, I want to keep doing it and doing it well and I worry that this will make it harder."

You understand where she's coming from. It's hard to feel like you're enough - both at work and at home. You've hardly been there for Jack or Aaron lately since you've been away so much and the balancing act is extremely precarious. You want to move ahead and do well at your job. But you also want to be a good partner to Aaron - be there to support him and be there for Jack as well. There were days you sat in Paris and all you could think was that your relationship would simply slip out of your hands because you weren't around enough. That Jack would forget what you looked like and not want you around because you were so absent. It was a dark sort of mindset to be in and it only went away when you were back with them both and obviously they wanted you around and of course Jack hadn't forgotten you.

"You know we'll all help you in any way we can," you tell her, hoping to be somewhat reassuring. "If you're worried about anyone thinking any less of you for being a mom too - that's entirely untrue. I know I'm not a parent, but I know that being one and doing the job we do is probably the hardest thing in the world." She nods as you speak, so you continue, "And as far as people's expectations go - being submissive and giving in to what people expect of us isn't natural. If it was, they wouldn't need all the indoctrination around women being obedient to their husbands. Nature doesn't need reminders," you tell her, gripping her hands tightly. "Do what comes naturally to you. The rest will fall into place."

JJ lets out a small laugh and swipes at her eyes. A couple of stray tears had made their way out into the open. "You're good at this, you know."

"At what?"

"I don't know what kind of understanding you and Hotch have about Jack, but you're a mom, Y/N. Kids, they don't know the difference between biological parents and otherwise. All they care about is who they want to hold them when they're upset and the way Jack treats you is no different from the way Henry treats me."

Aaron can say whatever he wants about you and Jack, but hearing it from JJ means more. You sniffle back your own tears, and your voice catches ever so slightly. "Thanks JJ."

*------------*

In the past few days, you'd gotten a lot more comfortable with having everyone in your old city. The days were spent in the precinct and around town, running down leads. The nights were spent back in your living room, ordering takeout and discussing the case and next steps.

The third night, you and Aaron were the last ones still awake, when you decided to take him somewhere. Leading him out to the balcony attached to your bedroom, you show him to the roof of the building. It's where you used to end up whenever you hosted parties at the apartment, for a respite from all the people and noise.

It's hard to see stars in the city - the lights are too bright. So Aaron wrapped himself around you to keep you warm and the two of you stood on the rooftop and watched the city lights instead. "You know, you're the first guy to have spent the night with me here," you tell him, one hand playing with the pendant around your neck.

He was a little surprised at that. He knew you'd been involved with someone while in New York, though he'd never pursued the topic. Something told him - especially with how little you liked talking about your life before the FBI - that you didn't particularly want to talk about that relationship. If that's what it was. You'd only ever called that man a friend, but Aaron knew better than to think that to be the case. He knew you'd been involved for at least some of your time in New York and then the two years of training. He wasn't sure when it had ended exactly, but he'd known you were dating other people your first year with the team, from conversations he'd overheard between you and the girls. Regardless, you didn't really do casual and he knew that whoever that person had been, had to be someone you at least trusted greatly. Especially for him to have come after Matthew.

"I plan on being the last too," he responded, bending down to kiss you.

And in the chilly night air, wrapped up in the warm arms of Aaron Hotchner, with the lights of your favorite city twinkling around you, you believed him. You completely believed him.

*------------*

The team was four days into the case and had finally made a breakthrough. Hotch was coordinating everything from the precinct along with Detective Lewis, and the rest of the team had split up and scattered around the city to the potential new sites that Penelope had identified as the next targets.

You and Emily are paired together, parked outside the building for any sign of movement. You needed to catch this guy in the act, otherwise you didn't have much physical evidence to go on yet to tie him to the crimes.

You're both on high alert, listening to the comms units in your ears for any updates. As you look at the building you're staking out, you catch some movement in the upstairs window. It should be abandoned, so you instantly draw Emily's attention to it. Right as she turns, the upstairs window is blown out and you see flames.

"Hotch, we got fire at our location," she relays pressing on the button to communicate back to him, as the two of you quickly get out of the car and head towards the building. With any luck, the unsub will be inside still and the victim would be alive.

"If there's already fire, you should wait for backup and the fire department," you hear Aaron's voice instructing the two of you.

You and Emily look at one another as the fire appears to quickly accelerate. You both know you don't have that long to save the victim. You shake your head at her, and shift your eyes towards the building, indicating that you have to go in.

"We don't have time, Hotch. We're going in."

The two of you run towards the building and Emily swiftly kicks down the door, a cloud of smoke escaping as she does. The two of you ignore Hotch's instructions to stand down and wait. He wasn't there. He couldn't see how quickly it was spreading.

"Y/N, be careful," he says finally, after neither you nor Emily respond to his pleas to wait.

"Always am," you respond, as both you and Emily, guns drawn, walk through the bottom part of the building. It was a two story apartment complex in Uptown, built in the 1950s. The fire appeared to be isolated upstairs for the time being as the two of you quickly cleared the bottom portion and then you followed Emily upstairs.

You take turns clearing rooms down one hallway until you come to the final one. The doorknob is hot to the touch. Emily knocks down this door as well and the two of you walk inside a large room to see flames spread across curtains and a bound up girl in one corner, inching away as much as she could towards the door to escape the fire.

Emily manages to ungag and unbound her while you try to usher them both out the room. "He went down the other hallway, there's another set of stairs," the girl says as soon as she's able to speak. Emily is half supporting her weight and the growing smoke is getting to you all. There are more fires set down the other hallway.

"Go, get her out," you tell Emily, moving down towards the other hallway that the girl had indicated.

"Y/N, no, we need to get out," she says, starting to walk down the stairs.

"We only catch this guy in the act, Em. Go!"

Ignoring her, you race down the other hallway, trusting her to get the girl out first. The smoke is getting thicker and it's getting harder to breathe as you go through the other rooms, finally finding a second set of stairs leading to the back of the house that you'd already checked out earlier. You can feel your breathing getting harsher as the smoke infiltrates your lungs and you're starting to cough.

You quickly clear the staircase and race downstairs, opening the door into the kitchen. Your vision is already hazy from the thick cloud of smoke and you know your coughing is alerting anyone in the vicinity to your presence. Right before you're able to turn and check behind the door, you feel the barrel of a gun pointed to the back of your head. Crap.

"Fire is dangerous. You never know when it might burn you." The horrid, raspy voice of the man who is undoubtedly the unsub makes your stomach clench.

However, before you can do anything, you hear a gunshot. For a second you think it was him. You think he'd shot you. But then you hear a loud thud as he falls behind you and you turn to see Emily with her weapon drawn, fingers clenched on the trigger. She'd come back for you.

Emily reaches out and grabs your hand as the two of you quickly make your way towards the exit. The flames have spread downstairs and you're forced to maneuver around the edge of the main room, the flames nearly licking at you and the entire building feels like a furnace. The two of you move quickly, knowing that it can get worse any second. You both exit onto the courtyard and you feel like you're home clear. You can see blue police lights across the street and the fire truck has arrived as well. It's loud and chaotic but you're free and clear.

You walk quickly, trying to make it out of the courtyard and into the street, when the rest of the windows also give out, exploding behind you. The two of you move to escape the glass shards but you won't be fast enough. You both drop to the ground and you find yourself on top of her, shards of glass raining around you. You move your arm to cover your face, your body shielding most of Emily's.

"Are you okay?" she asks as the tremors from the explosion leave the air. You're still on top of her and neither one of you seems capable of movement quite yet. The smoke had really done on a number on you.

"Are you?" you manage.

"Yeah, think you took the brunt of it."

"Good," you manage out, breathing heavily. "Because you only get one funeral, and you already used yours up."

She knows you're trying to make light of it, but for a moment you'd both thought you were done for. Twice for you, as you'd also had a gun to your head in the last ten minutes.

You roll off of her and she helps you stand up, the two of you looking one another over for injuries. She seems alright besides a scrape or two but you'd felt some glass earlier and you're not sure how bad it is.

"That's going to need to get extracted," Emily says, pointing to your arm and leading you to an ambulance with a medic.

As you settle onto the foot of the ambulance and the EMT runs to get supplies, you see more cars pull up.

"Hotch is gonna kill me," she mutters, as the EMT returns and makes a cut in the sleeve of your shirt to open it up and get the glass shards out with a pair of tweezers. You wince as he begins to take the glass out. It hadn't hurt too much so far, but your adrenaline was also starting to crash and you knew it would hurt more than a light sting pretty soon.

You both see Aaron racing towards you, walking past the officers trying to get his attention. Seeing him approach, Emily nods at him and goes to give a statement of what happened to the uniformed officers.

Aaron could barely stomach the anxiety that had entered him from the second you and Prentiss had entered the building. He'd left the precinct immediately, leaving Detective Lewis to coordinate. As he'd driven up, he'd seen the windows explode and his entire body frozen up, heart in his stomach, and he felt clammy all over. He didn't know if you'd made it out yet.

He abandoned the car as soon as he was able and had to race through a dozen people trying to get his attention as he looked around for you. When he finally caught sight of you sitting at the foot of the ambulance, it was like he could finally breathe again. The air was smoke filled and his lungs burned as he took in a breath, watching you for a second. Prentiss towered over you and you sat by her, looking entirely small and vulnerable, cradling your arm.

You reached out for him the second you saw him and he grasped your hand in his, bringing your fingers to his lips to confirm what his eyes were telling him. You were alive.

He looks entirely frazzled in a way you've never seen him before. Panic, fear, a thousand emotions running across his face as he takes in the sight of you sitting next to the medic as he picks out glass from your skin. His hand clutches yours tightly and you feel awful for putting him through this. You try your best not to wince as the guy continues to pull glass out, knowing that would just compound Aaron's worry.

You pull on the hand he's holding you by, drawing him closer to sit where Emily had been a few moments ago. "I'm alright," you tell him, moving your hand to cup his face. He closes his eyes instinctively at your touch, just for a second.

He nods disbelievingly and you know he can't afford to be like this over one of his agents getting just the slightest bit injured. Derek had been shot and he'd still commanded a room. Emily was tortured and Aaron hadn't blinked, his steely gaze concentrated on bringing down the unsub. You know that you getting hurt is different. You're far too aware of how different it is. In his mind he's got to be going over the trauma of losing Haley all over again, and this is nothing remotely close to that, but you know that fear is ever present in his mind.

You draw him in and kiss his lips ever so lightly, ignoring the stabbing pain in your arm. "Go," you instruct him softly. "Go be Unit Chief. I'm fine."

He looks over at the medic again as the man pulls a large piece of glass out, and his face scrunches up in anguish at the obvious pain you must be in. He knows you're putting on a brave face right now but he's also seen you cry when you stub your toe so he knows this hurts more than you're letting him see.

He looks back to where a crowd of people are waiting for his instructions. You squeeze his hand again, assuring him that you're alright. He nods and stands up, reluctantly letting go of your hand.

"Hey," you call out to him, "Send Emily, would you?"

He turns and nods, walking over to Prentiss and instructing her to go with you in case you need to go to the hospital as well.

Once Emily arrives, you clench her hand tightly as the medic removes the final large piece. "Son of a bitch," you mumble, as she lets you tuck yourself into the crook of her neck.

Emily looks off into the crowd as Hotch figures out the next steps and coordinates extracting the unsub's body with the fire department. He'd looked scared to death when he'd seen you, and had only looked moderately better when he'd come to tell her to go with you to the hospital.

The medic tells you you're going to need stiches and you're simply grateful he hadn't said that while Aaron had been around to hear it. Emily escorts you to the hospital and holds your hand throughout, as you moan and groan about the pain finally since its just her.

*------------*

The team is settled into your living room later that night. You're all going to go clubbing tomorrow night, per your promise to Terry. Aaron had tried to tell you that you were no longer obligated to go after an injury, but you didn't want to back out of your promise and risk burning bridges. You never knew when someone would come in handy.

Penelope would be arriving tomorrow with outfits for JJ and Emily. You still had most of your party wardrobe in New York, conveniently enough. There hadn't been much need for clubbing attire the past few years.

You'd all eaten and Spencer and Derek had cleared up. Aaron and Rossi were settled into the armchairs and the rest of you were spread out across the room on the large couch. Spencer was gently playing the piano to a tune that you recognized but couldn't quite place.

You got up to get the pain killers the doctor had prescribed you and took them in the kitchen, before returning. As you walk by Aaron's chair, he reaches out and grabs your hand. You look at him in question, but he silently pulls you towards him, maneuvering you onto his lap. You're surprised, because the two of you might quickly peck in front of the team, but rarely do you outright show affection in this manner. However, you allow him to place you on top of him and he's careful to avoid touching the stitches as he makes sure you're comfortable.

You look back at the team but they all seem unbothered and absorbed in their separate conversations, so you tuck your face into the crook of his neck. "I'm fine," you whisper so only he can hear.

Aaron shifts his eyes to look at you and nods almost imperceptibly.

You're kind of glad he'd pulled you onto his lap, because you'd had this growing anxiety within you ever since you'd come back from the hospital. You knew Aaron couldn't handle someone he loved dying. You knew that. And yet today he'd been forced to confront the possibility of something happening to you. You knew that you could promise you'd be fine and that nothing would happen to you until you're blue in the face, but he'd never believe you. You can't promise that. You can't know that.

That crazy, anxious part of you had convinced itself that he would do anything possible to mitigate the possible hurt he would feel if something happened and you're almost waiting for the possibility of him pushing you away. But he'd promised he wouldn't do that to you ever, and it would appear he's good at keeping his promises too.

You allow yourself to become limp against him, the drowsiness from the pills and the exhaustion from the day catching up to you. His arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you securely against him. Aaron returns to his conversation with Dave and it's not long before you're asleep.

As its getting late, Aaron tucks an arm under your knees and stands, lifting you with him, careful not to wake you. You look entirely fragile in his arms and the team watches as he says good night to them all and carries you to your bedroom. They all watch as he goes, knowing one thing between them - if today was anything to go by, nothing could ever happen to you. Because if someone ever happened to you, Aaron Hotchner would not simply break. He would shatter. And there would not be a single thing any of them could do to piece him back together again.

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #hotchner x you #hotchner x y/n #irreverentseries

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css1992 · 4 years

Text

Such a softer sin

Summary: Tony is a self-made man. Peter is a sugar baby – someone else’s sugar baby.

When he turned to pull his chair out, the older man subtly checked out his ass and – of course, it was delicious, round and perky, two perfect handfuls. He rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the fact that he had a huge character flaw, a hamartia – he fucked people for money. He was basically a glorified whore, and if there was one thing Tony never had to do in his life was pay for sex, one way or another. So, really, he wouldn't start with – what was his name again?

Warnings: Explicit, 18+, mentions of non-con (not between main pairing, not explicit), age gap, power imbalance, employer/employee relationship, underage drinking. If you find anything triggering, please let me know!

Word count:18.4k

-x-

He was admittedly gorgeous, Tony could give him that. The honey brown eyes, the bouncy, fluffy curls and the clear, pale skin worked perfectly in his favor – he looked the part of the innocent, wholesome, young man ready to be swept off his feet and taken care of. Powerful men often liked that act, liked believing that they were deflowering innocence for the first time, liked believing they were wanted, needed. Tony knew better, though, he knew the type, he came across people like him all through his life.

When he was a broke, orphaned, half-starved college student, they wouldn’t give him the time of day. Snobby, pretty, little things like him only had eyes and time for those who had money, or something to offer – fame, influence, status. At the time, Tony had nothing, he could barely afford to eat everyday. After he graduated from MIT, he started working for Hammer Industries and as he started making more money, slowly, these people started taking notice of him, and he, too, started paying closer attention to them.

They weren’t difficult to spot either, they were usually young, attractive, with beautiful, fake smiles, weak personalities and a penchant for expensive gifts. It was easy to recognize them hanging off powerful men’s arms at functions, and dinners, and galas; bespoke suits or designer dresses covering their bodies, not a lot to add to the conversation. They were accessories, trophies. Pets.

Tony hated them. People who wanted to be at the very top, but couldn’t be bothered to take the stairs. They would use their pretty faces, feigned innocence, beautiful bodies and cute, fake laughs, to get farther faster. Not Tony. He did it the right way – the hard way –, worked day and night to get to his goal, got beat down so many times there were days he thought he wouldn’t be able to stand back up, but he did, every single time.

And time and experience made him wiser, smarter and bitter. At 40, he was finally able to start his own company, Stark Industries, it started small, but his genius inventions put his name on the map fairly quickly. That was how, five years later, he found himself having dinner with Norman Osborn, the most powerful man in New York, and his – boy toy? Sugar baby? Escort? Or something – discussing the possibility of a deal so big it could finally make Stark Industries live up to its full potential.

“So what I’m saying is that we can offer you the best and most advanced technology out there: my nanobots. I guarantee you it will make your job easier, faster and cheaper in the long run. I assure you, this a great deal and you should take it.” Tony was absolutely sure of what he was saying, he knew his product was good, his tech was flawless, he just needed to get it out there. He just needed a company like Oscorps to believe in him, then his work would speak for itself.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Stark, I think this whole nanotech thing is way too expensive and unnecessary, specially considering that I’m pretty sure Baintronics could do the same work for half the price, the old-fashioned way, which has been working just fine for the past decade.” Fuck, no, that old bat wasn’t looking at the big picture, he wasn’t thinking about the long run. Of course old tech would still get the job done, but Tony’s tech could do such a better job and so much more efficiently.

“No, but you see, that’s–”

“But –“ Norman raised a hand, successfully shutting Tony up and annoying the living hell out of him in the process. One day, he thought to himself, one day I’ll be able to say ‘fuck you’ to men like Norman Osborn. One day. “I’m willing to give it a try. Peter here says you’re the best at what you do, he’s the one who recommended that I agreed to meet with you, actually, when your PA called.”

Tony was taken aback by that information and eyed the young man carefully, causing him to blush a deep red and lower his gaze with a small, timid smile. Tony thought he was faking the whole thing, trying to be cute and sweet, but fuck – it worked for him. He seemed really young, maybe in his early twenties, and Tony had no idea how he could have heard of him, he wasn’t exactly famous, nor was S.I. His breakthroughs were only ever published in very specific scientific journals.

“I’m a huge fan of your work, Mr. Stark, I’ve always told Norman you two should work together, you’re both men ahead of your time.” He said quietly. He had a high-pitched, slightly feminine voice, which probably also worked in his favor with men like Osborn. It made him sound younger than he probably was, easier to manipulate and dominate.

Reluctantly, Tony accepted the compliment with a tight smile. He really needed that deal, he really needed for that to work, it would be the break SI needed, he could feel it, he could already taste the success.

“Very well, so here’s my offer. You will supply Oscorps with your nanotech for a year, then we can take it from there. This would be your cut for this first year.” Osborn wrote something down on a piece of paper and slid it towards Tony across the table. His eyes widened slightly when he saw the numbers – and the amount of zeros –, but he pretended to be cool about it, he even put on a show of looking slightly disappointed. “And there’s a lot more where this comes from, Stark. This could be the beginning of a beautiful, and mutually beneficial, friendship.”

“I do hope it is, Mr. Osborn. I look forward to working with your company. I’m sure we’re gonna be a great fit.” Tony tried to sound cool and professional, but he was having a little heart attack on the inside. He had been trying to schedule a meeting with Norman for months and the billionaire – or, most likely, his PA – kept making excuses. Now there he was, closing a huge deal with the promise of a mutually beneficial friendship in the future.

After that, he could breathe more easily during dinner. He couldn’t wait to tell Pepper, Bruce and Nat, though, they had to celebrate properly, maybe they could all go to his apartment and finally crack open that Macallan he bought when he made his first million. But meanwhile, he was stuck in the restaurant with Norman and his boy-toy, which he wouldn’t complain too much about, at least it was a nice view.

Again, there was no denial that the boy was beautiful. There was just something naturally sensual and charismatic about him, Tony couldn’t avoid looking his way, even when he wasn’t talking. And when he did talk, it was magnetic. He didn’t say much, as Tony expected, but what he didn’t expect was for him to be so smart. The few times he said anything was to ask questions about his tech, and those were surprisingly pertinent. Sometime along the night, Tony figured out that he was studying to become a mechanical engineer at Columbia and he wondered if Norman had anything to do with it – probably.

Tony was reminded of his own college years, of how he had to work his ass off to get a scholarship, and how many crazy hours he had to work to make ends meet, just to be able to build something for himself. He didn’t seek the help of men like Norman, although he could have. The name Stark meant something, once upon a time. His father was considered a gifted inventor, he was respected by huge companies, but he never built anything of his own.

When he died, Tony was only eleven. He still didn’t know exactly what happened, but soon after that, his mother lost everything he had left – which wasn’t much to begin with. She was never quite herself again, she was so depressed, she never even smiled anymore, she sometimes didn’t have the energy to get out of bed, Tony was the one doing the house chores, cooking for her, trying to make sure she was okay. She died eight years later from an aneurysm, Tony found her lying on the couch, looking peaceful for the first time in so many years.

In short, he never had it easy, and he never tried to make it easier for himself either – at least not in shady ways. He just wanted to do the right thing, even if it took longer – which it did. He was a forty-five year old man, but he made a name for himself, the name Stark held respect once again.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” The young man got up after a quick peck to Norman’s lips and headed to the bathroom. Tony made a huge effort and pointedly did not stare at his ass as he left. He was really proud of himself for that, maybe two years earlier he wouldn’t have been able to pull that off, he had no shame. At least now he had some. A little. Sort of.

“What do you think of him?” Norman had a neutral expression on, he gave nothing away, but it seemed like a test. What sort of question was that, why did it matter what Tony thought of his fuck toy?

“He seems really smart,” he answered with a small smile. It was a polite, diplomatic answer, and not untrue.

“What else?” Norman pushed, with a knowing smirk, and Tony almost cursed under his breath, thinking that maybe he’d been too obvious with his staring all through dinner, after all.

“He’s very pretty,” he admitted, although still with his cool, professional face on. Norman’s smirk grew wider.

“He sure is. Cute pet. Smart, polite, funny. You should get one for yourself, Stark. They’re kinda expensive, but worth every penny.” His shark-like smile took over his whole face and Tony had to fight back a grimace. He just smiled and shook his head no.

“Not really my style, sir.” Buying people, paying for sex, that sort of thing, he wanted to add.

“It’s not anyone’s style until it is.” He gave Tony a once over and smirked. “We’re not getting any younger.” The engineer was offended, he wanted to tell him he aged like good wine, unlike certain people, but refrained. He just gave him a strained smile and took a sip of his drink.

As if on cue, the pretty boy returned to the table and Tony took a couple of seconds to appreciate his outfit. He wore a dark blue suit, very elegant and very expensive looking, certainly a gift from Osborn, and it fit him like a glove. Tony supposed it was bespoke. It complimented his lithe, lean body beautifully.

When he turned around to pull his chair out, the older man subtly checked out his ass and – of course, it was delicious, round and perky, two perfect handfuls. He rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the fact that he had a huge character flaw, a hamartia – he fucked people for money. He was basically a glorified whore, and if there was one thing Tony never had to do in his life was pay for sex, one way or another. So, really, he wouldn't start with – what was his name again?

“So, come by the office on Monday, we’ll talk over all the details, then you can take the draft contract to your legal team and we can meet again – say, in another week?”

“Yeah, sure, this sounds perfect,” he answered coolly, not mentioning that his “legal team” consisted of one single Natasha Romanoff, who would have his balls for dinner when she found out that she would only have seven days to look over what was bound to be a very long, very complex contract.

“Well, then, Mr. Stark. You’ve got yourself a deal.” Norman got up from his chair, what clearly meant dinner was over, and Tony rushed to his feet, offering his had to shake.

“You won’t regret this, sir,” he spoke in a strong, firm voice, because he was positive of it.

“Good.” Osborn shook his hand once and turned to leave without saying goodbye.

“It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Stark, I hope we’ll see each other again soon.” The pretty boy took his hand as well, eyes glinting, a coy smile on his face. Tony couldn’t tell if he was flirting or if he was pretending to be shy, but he ignored it and just nodded curtly.

“Thank you, it’s been a pleasure to meet you, too.” He didn’t dare try to remember his name, Tony was pretty sure it started with a P, but he wouldn’t risk it.

As soon as they left the restaurant, the CEO punched the air in celebration, calling Pepper right away.

---*---

The meeting on Monday went smoothly, they agreed that Tony would be personally charged with the maintenance of his tech at least a week a month – he made it seem like it was a courtesy, but, in reality, he still didn’t have anyone on his team who could do the job quite as well as he could. They also agreed that he would have a small team of five scientists at his disposal during such period, so he wouldn’t have to dislodge anyone from his company to do it – again, he didn’t mention that five people were basically half of his scientific team and he couldn’t afford them not working for SI for a whole week each month.

As expected, he didn’t see the pretty boy in the meeting, Tony supposed he only made an appearance in social functions and such, so he could make Norman look good. To Tony’s surprise, though, seven days later, after Natasha bullied him into promising a 10% raise after the shit he’d pulled with the contract, the pretty boy was in the meeting room when he arrived to sign the deal. Norman’s PA and a few of his lawyers were there as well, Tony was with Pepper and Natasha, and he quickly whispered to Pepper that he was the boy he’d told her about. He approached them with a shy, nervous smile and Tony almost wanted to roll his eyes at the facade.

“Hi, I’m Peter Parker, I’m an intern here.” Ah, Peter. That sounded about right. Tony thought it was something along those lines. And he was an intern for Oscorps, of course. What a joke. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Stark. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Hello, Mr. Parker, this is Miss Potts, my assistant, and this is Miss Romanoff, head of my legal team. I’ll have a coffee – black, no sugar. Thank you.” Again, he kept it professional and barely even looked at the kid, he knew what he looked like and he knew he was off limits, so why tease himself by looking?

“I’m good.” Natasha smiled sweetly, making the boy blush even harder.

“I’ll have the same as Mr. Stark, thank you, Mr. Parker.” Peter quickly turned and headed out of the room and Pepper turned to whisper to him. “You weren’t kidding, he’s really fucking young, he looks like he could be Norman’s grandson, for Christ’s sake.” Tony snorted and Natasha eyed them knowingly, but with a look that screamed “behave” and they both schooled their expressions. Shortly after, the boy walked back in with their coffee and they thanked him, as he blushed and nodded, taking a seat to the left of what should be Osborn’s chair.

The meeting didn’t take long at all, everything had already been discussed, it was just a formality, so barely twenty minutes later they were all getting up from their seats, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries. Tony was almost out of the room when he felt a hand at his elbow followed by a softly spoken, “Mr. Stark, can I have a word?”.

Of course the devil himself would tempt him, even if Tony was trying to be good. He was forced to turn around and actually look at the young man, he was wearing a lavender dress shirt, with a dark gray tie and black pants. He looked like the cutest little businessman ever, and Tony was sure that if Peter were to turn his back, he would be presented with his perfect bubble butt looking amazing in those slacks, but – he was the forbidden fruit. Besides, Tony mused, he probably couldn’t afford a single night with Peter, he was only a millionaire, after all, and he’d rather spend his money on shiny things and get his lays for free.

“Yes, Mr. Parker?” The boy’s cheeks were impossibly red and Tony figured he couldn’t really fake that, so he supposed he really was shy to some degree. He looked over his shoulder and saw Pepper and Natasha waiting just outside the door, warning looks on their faces, and he rolled his eyes.

“I was wondering – I talked to No--, I mean, Mr. Osborn, about the possibility of maybe, uhm. Working with you? When you come to do the maintenance, I mean. It’s just, we don’t really have an engineering department, so you would be working mainly with biochemists and a few lab techs, so I thought maybe I could assist you with the hands-on work, you know? I don’t know if Mr. Osborn mentioned, but I’m studying to become a mechanical engineer as well and it would be an honor working with you, sir. Mr. Osborn said it was ok as long as you agreed, so...” He shuffled his feet and avoided looking at the older man.

“Look, kid.” Tony sighed, because, fuck. How could he say no to Norman’s boy without being rude? And how could he say yes to working with someone who was clearly useless to him and would only serve as a distraction – and worse, a temptation. He needed a way out of that. “I don’t really know if there would be much for you to do, I mean, it’s pretty new and advanced technology, and you’re, what, a freshman, right?”

“Actually, I’ll graduate next fall, sir.” Tony was taken aback by that and it must have shown on his face if Peter’s answering blush was anything to go by.

“I’m sorry, how old are you again?” He asked, trying not to sound too rude.

“I’ll be twenty in August, sir.” If Tony was impressed by that, he didn’t let it show, but if the kid would manage to graduate from Columbia at twenty, then he must not be that useless after all, but Tony wouldn’t hold his breath.

“Very well, then. I guess I’ll see you in a month, Mr. Parker.” He nodded and Peter could barely contain his grin when he shook his hand excitedly. It was cute and endearing and – oh, God, Tony almost fell for his little act. Fuck, he really needed to be on his toes around that guy.

“Thank you, sir, I really appreciate it!”

As soon as Tony stepped out of the building and headed towards his car with Natasha and Pepper on his heels, the Russian red-head looked at him seriously.

“Tony, I swear to God, if you try to get your dick wet with that boy, I quit. I’m not even gonna start on how much legal and PR trouble you’re gonna get yourself into by fucking Norman’s boyfriend, specially considering he’s, like, twelve, and happens to work for your business partner. Don’t fuck this up!” She warned as she got inside the car and, again, Tony had to roll his eyes as he got behind the wheel.

“Look, I’m not gonna lie, if the circumstances were different, I’d be all over that,” he admitted, noticing Pep’s aggravated look. “But of course I’m not gonna do anything to jeopardize this deal, ok? Besides, you know how I feel about gold diggers. You saw him and you saw Osborn, why in the fucking hell a guy like him would fuck a mummy like Osborn? He’s, like, a hundred years old!”

“He’s fifty five, and I don’t know if you know this, Tony, but people have sex for reasons that go beyond appearances. You know, like love, affinity, connection –”

“-- Money, fame, status. C’mon, Pep, don’t be naive. Do you really think that boy loves Osborn? He just likes expensive restaurants and fancy cars. Maybe, if he’s thinking big, he’s gonna use him to get a good job after graduation, but that’s it.”

“Well, then, if you think he’s such a terrible person, you’ll have no problem staying the hell away from him, right?” She looked at him with narrowed eyes and he looked away from the traffic for a second to smirk at her.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, easy breezy.”

--*--

As it turned out, it wasn’t easy breezy.

Peter was like a lost puppy trailing after him the following month, he spent the whole week glued to his hip, asking questions, making suggestions, and even supplying him with a never ending amount of coffee. If Tony was a hundred percent honest, he kinda liked it. The kid seriously treated him like a hero, a celebrity, he seemed to look up to him and, in the end, he proved to be a valuable asset on the team. He was really smart and hardworking, he understood everything Tony was saying even before he was done talking and he had really steady, tiny hands, which were always useful with nanotech.

Tony couldn’t really stay away from him and slowly learned a few things about him from what little information he stuttered out when answering his questions. First, the older man learned that he got into Columbia when he was only sixteen, which was kind of amazing, if he was being completely honest. Tony wanted to believe that that had happened way before he met Norman Osborn, but he didn’t really know when they met.

He had a scholarship and lived with his aunt until she passed away a little over a year earlier and now he shared an apartment with four other people, which surprised Tony, he figured Norman would have hooked him up with a nice place – but then again, he had no idea when they met, it could have been only months earlier. Peter said that, originally, he wanted to go to MIT, but he only got a partial scholarship there, so he had to give it up and go to Columbia. He also said that that was how he knew Tony beforehand. The older man was sort of a famous MIT alumnus, specially among the engineering students, so Peter heard of him and followed his work through scientific publications, which was – well, Tony was flattered.

Even if those bits of information somewhat made Tony warm up to the young man, other few things still annoyed him just as much. First of all, clearly Peter was a very bright kid, possibly one of the smartest people Tony knew besides himself and Bruce, he didn’t really need Norman’s influence to succeed, and still, there he was. Second, he quickly picked up on the fact that Peter wasn’t exactly Norman’s boyfriend, he was more of a… Sugar baby? And one of many, actually, although he seemed to be the favorite. After Tony signed the deal, he started paying closer attention to what tabloids said about Norman and apparently he had a very long list of (young) lovers, but he was officially single.

Somehow, that made Tony even more disgusted by their relationship. He just couldn’t understand why a guy like Peter would put himself in that position, for what? Money? A job? What was it that Norman could offer him that he couldn’t get himself? The thing was, Peter kind of reminded Tony of himself at that age. He was pretty much in the same situation: he had no family and no money, he only had his brains – and while Tony had made something out of it, Peter was trying to take a shortcut and the engineer didn’t appreciate that.

“Here, check this out, see how they respond a lot faster now?” Tony made room so that the younger man could look through the microscope, a wide grin spreading across his face in a few seconds. “You have to think of them as neurons, they communicate with each other by electrical pulses, similar to synapses. For that to work out perfectly and seamlessly, they need to be really close by, without touching, that’s why the electromagnetic field has to be perfect, if it’s just a tiny bit off, the response time increases exponentially. Got it?”

“Got it, Mr. Stark!” He answered excitedly and Tony smiled at him.

“Well, my work here is done. See you next month?” Tony got up from his chair, gathering his things around the lab.

“I can’t wait." Somehow, Tony knew he actually meant it.

The following month, Peter was just as helpful and just as excited as the month before. He was in the lab before Tony – who was always early himself – and he always greeted him with a bright smile and an excited wave of his hand. As the engineer settled his things on his work bench, Peter would get him coffee, and he always remembered how Tony liked it. They got right to work, which they did everyday for a week without any disruption. The intern always offered to stay late, but Tony never took him up on that, he knew he had classes in the afternoon and he didn’t want him to get in trouble. Just as he was starting to warm up to him, though, on Friday, the engineer was reminded why he didn’t like him in the first place.

“You’re late, Mr. Parker.” Tony mumbled from his seat in front of the microscope as soon as he heard the glass door open with a hiss as the smell of coffee filled the room. Peter was only twelve minutes late, but it was only their second week working together, it didn’t seem very professional.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark, I was – uh, in a meeting with Mr. Osborn.” He lied through his teeth, Tony could almost smell the nervousness when he came close enough. He hated being lied to, specially when he knew what Peter was probably doing in that “meeting”. It was just inexcusable.

“Just because you’re Norman’s boy doesn’t mean you get special treatment in this lab, you hear me? I don’t care what you do with him all the other weeks that I’m not here, but if you wanna be a part of my team, during my lab hours, you gotta be here and on time. Are we clear?” He didn’t bother lifting his eyes from the microscope and almost missed the whispered and wavered, “yes, sir” that Peter let out. When he turned to the younger man, his eyes were bloodshot, his clothes were rumpled, his face ashen and his lower lip was wobbling, he looked like he had a rough night and an early morning, and he looked like he was holding back tears. Tony almost regretted the harsh treatment. Almost. “Is this my coffee?” He pointed at the cup, averting his gaze.

“Yes, sir.” He answered quickly, offering the beverage like a gift.

On his third month there, Tony tried to keep his distance from the younger man. He promised Natasha and Pepper that he would and, up until that point, he hadn’t been very successful. So during the week of March that he had to go to Oscorps, he avoided the younger man, made himself unavailable and charged him with boring and complicated tasks that should take all week to get done. Still, the boy did everything he was told and only took half the time expected, he was always on time and always, always brought him coffee, just the way he liked it. It was really hard to ignore him.

“You know you don’t have to bring me coffee, right? It’s not in your job description.” Tony felt the need to point out on Friday when he saw the boy walking in with the beverage, but he just shrugged and smiled a little.

“I know, I just want to make sure you have everything you need, sir. Besides, I used to work at a coffee shop, I don’t mind making your coffee.” When he said that, Tony’s brows shot into his hairline.

“You made this?” He asked, incredulously, and the boy cocked his head in confusion.

“Yeah, where did you think this came from?” He frowned, amused.

“Uh, I don’t know, some fucking gourmet coffee shop downstairs?” Peter laughed, genuinely laughed, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled in the most endearing way, as he shook his head.

“You’re funny, Mr. Stark.”

Peter was the funny one, actually, and the whole thing was just so confusing to Tony. He thought he had the younger man all figured out, he thought he knew what kind of person he was, what he was after, but sometimes Peter would do or say things that just didn’t add up to Tony’s assumptions. The boy was kind and generous and humble, he was proactive and hardworking, and so annoyingly nice. He was easy to talk to, too, sometimes they’d have whole conversations about the most random subjects as they worked and Tony would only realize what they did at the end of the day, as he left and Peter waved at him with that charming smile and it made something burn in Tony’s chest and he couldn’t figure out why.

On his fourth month there, Peter surprised him on the first day. He brought him coffee in a mug that read: “If it ain’t broke, take it apart and fix it”. Usually, his coffee was put in a styrofoam cup with Oscorps logo on it, he had no idea where the mug came from, and when he asked, the boy blushed slightly, shuffling his feet.

“Uhm, actually – I heard it was your birthday last week, so I just – I mean, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be inappropriate or anything, it’s just – the environment and stuff. So. Uh – happy birthday?” He looked really uncomfortable just saying that, and Tony was equal parts amused and amazed, so he dropped his eyes back to the simple, white mug with bright red letters.

“That’s – actually really nice, Peter. Thank you.” He looked back at the young man and his cheeks were burning red. It was really… fucking cute. Fuck.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Stark.” His answering tiny smile warmed the older man’s heart, but he swallowed whatever feeling dared to emerge.

By Tony’s fifth month working with Oscorps, things finally started to feel natural, pleasant. When he arrived in the morning, he greeted everyone by name, threw smiles and flirty comments here and there and walked the hallways like he owned the place. His team worked like a well-oiled machine and they were always early, specially Peter, after that one time he was late. When he arrived, they already had a head start on him, which was always good, and they were able to go home a little earlier everyday.

“Good morning, everybody.” Tony raised his head when he heard Norman’s voice, a little surprised. Aside from his first day there, he hadn’t seen the old man at all, so it was weird for him to be in the lab, specially so early.

“Mr. Osborn, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Tony asked, watching closely as the older man walked towards Peter, who avoided his gaze furiously, pretending to be focused on his work, although it was clear that he was barely breathing. Norman grinned in his direction, but didn’t say anything, and Tony raised an eyebrow at the interaction.

“Miss Watson let me know you would be here today, so I thought I’d personally invite you to our annual Charity Gala, it will take place next month, on the eleventh. Will you be able to make it?”

“Yes, of course, sir, I can move some stuff around.” Fucking hell, he hated those functions. A bunch of assholes kissing other assholes’s butts and pretending to be good citizens by donating to charity only for the press. Just his type of event. But nonetheless, the type of event he needed to be seen in, someplace where he could meet people and make connections.

“Great, I’ll send the formal invitation to Stark Industries, I look forward to seeing you there. Mr. Stark.” He nodded in his direction and Tony did the same. “Mr. Parker.” He turned towards the young man who still hadn’t looked up. His cheeks burned a bright red when he looked at the older man.

“Mr. Osborn.” He gritted his teeth and, again, Norman grinned, buttoning his suit jacket as he left the lab.

Hm. Odd.

--*--

“At least pretend to be having a good time, Tony.” Pepper whispered through her teeth, a fake smile plastered on as she waved to people Tony could barely recognize. She was wearing a beautiful blue gown, his birthday gift to her, apparently, and not for the first time Tony wondered what would have been if he hadn’t blown things up with her. If he hadn’t cheated on her with half the city when they were in college. He was a stupid, stupid boy in his twenties. And thirties. And early forties.

It was a work in progress.

“I am pretending, don’t I look convincing?” He turned to look at her with what he was certain was a terrible grimace and she snorted into her champagne glass, causing them both to giggle like stupid teenagers. He was glad she had agreed to go as his plus one, he would have blown his brains for sure if he was alone in there.

“Good evening, Mr. Stark.” Ah, Tony could recognize that sweetly high-pitched voice from miles away, but when he turned around he wasn’t ready for such a vision. Peter was wearing a gorgeous burgundy suit with a black, silk shirt underneath, as well as a black tie. His hair was perfectly swept to the side, his curls tamed for once, but still showing at the nape of his neck. He looked absolutely beautiful and fucking expensive. Tony wanted to unwrap him, then wreck him in the best possible way. “And Miss Potts, right?”

“Yes, Mr. Parker, it’s nice to see you again,” she answered pleasantly and Tony was glad she was there because he was sure that he was staring for way too long to be polite. He cleared his throat and smiled at the young man, who quickly slipped into character looking shyly at him from under his eyelashes.

“Mr. Parker, fancy seeing you here,” Tony spoke confidently, subtly looking around for Norman, but he was nowhere to be seen. “And where’s Mr. Osborn?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him.” He averted his gaze, his tiny and usually steady hands trembling a little, before closing into fists. “Well, it was nice seeing you –“

“Hey, c’mon, have a drink with us,” Tony interrupted him, sensing his discomfort.

“Oh, uh – I’m sorry, sir, I’m not old enough to drink.” Tony was almost taken aback by that fact. The amount of information that he carried in that brilliant brain of his did not compute with his age.

“I won’t tell if you don’t. Neither will Miss Potts, right?” Tony turned to look at Pepper, only to see her staring daggers at him, in a way that probably only he could tell, they had a special way of communicating, so he quickly sent her a “what?” glare and she sighed.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear any of this and I’m just gonna go talk to Mrs. Bain, if you’ll excuse me, please.” She smiled sweetly at Peter and walked away from them, as Tony rolled his eyes.

“Well, her loss.” The older man shrugged, grabbing two champagne glasses from a passing waiter. “Have you ever had one of these?” He asked, offering him one of the glasses. “I’m not corrupting you, am I?” Tony asked charmingly, with a crooked smile and a raised eyebrow. Peter giggled, blushing and shaking his head no.

“No, it’s okay, Norman usually gets me a few drinks when we’re out,” he answered, accepting the glass. Just the mention of the older man had Tony deflating slightly, reminded of the fact that Peter couldn’t be his.

“So, how come you didn’t come together?” He asked innocently, although he knew it was probably a touchy subject. The younger man took a long sip of his drink, licking his wet lips once he was done, and Tony wished it was his tongue running across those thin, pink lips.

“He’d rather bring another date, so.” He shrugged with a small, fake smile, and quickly changed the subject. “I’ve recently read that you’re working on a holographic system that’s supposed to connect with the user's hippocampus and project their memories, is that true?” Tony was surprised by that, he had written a paper about it with Bruce not long before, Peter must really keep up with his work.

“Yeah, but I’m in a bit of a pickle right now, got stuck with the neuroscience portion of it.” Tony scratched the back of his head, a little embarrassed about the admission, but Peter only smiled wider.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out. And it’s gonna be groundbreaking. Again. Well, it seems like everything you do changes the world somehow.” His cheeks were flushed, and maybe it was wishful thinking, maybe Tony was falling for Peter’s little game, but he thought he was actually flirting with him. Really flirting, not “I wanna be your sugar baby” flirting.

“That’s a lot of trust you’re putting in me, kid.” Tony dared to step a little closer to him and the young man bit his lower lip, holding back a smile, cheeks flushing pink.

“Yeah, but I think you can back it up.” He tilted his head back a little to look up at the older man. Tony held his gaze for a few seconds, before he dropped it to his lips. He smiled when the young man nervously licked them.

“I’m sorry I’m too hard on you in the lab. I just don’t want anyone thinking that I treat you differently because of the boss.” Tony took yet another step and Peter didn’t move an inch, allowing him to get closer and closer.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m just thankful to be in your team, I’m learning a lot.” This time, Tony was sure he wasn’t imagining things, Peter’s eyes definitely dropped to stare at his lips and the engineer inhaled sharply.

“Peter –“

“Ah, there you are.” Norman appeared out of thin air and Tony took three steps back, a cool smile on his face. Osborn was accompanied by a gorgeous blonde girl who couldn’t be older than twenty five, she was tall and slender, and looked like a supermodel – and she probably was. “Good evening, Mr. Stark. Pete.”

“Good evening, Mr. Osborn,” Tony answered with a schooled smile, not sure if he was in trouble for giving Peter champagne, but the CEO barely seemed to notice it when he turned to the younger man, who didn’t even bother to answer him.

“How do you like the party so far?” He asked politely, although his gaze was fixed on Peter. His date seemed bored out of her mind, but she eyed Tony with interest and the older man had to avert his gaze, he really didn’t need yet another sin to avoid.

“It’s great, sir,” Tony answered politely, but the older man didn’t really seem to care.

“Good, good. Do you mind if I borrow Peter for a little while?” He eyed the younger man and Peter grit his teeth, his hand tightening around the champagne flute.

“No, sure, he’s all yours.” He gestured towards the boy and he looked back at him with a look of betrayal on his face. Tony raised his eyebrows, not sure what Peter expected him to do, but the young man rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Come on, Peter, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” And with that, he led the way, confident that the boy would follow behind, which he did, after downing the rest of his drink, shooting one last pleading look Tony’s way. Again, the older man had no idea what he wanted.

Once they left, Tony quickly found Pepper in the crowd as she chatted with Justin Hammer, the biggest asshole to ever exist in the corporate world. He stole all of Tony’s projects when the engineer worked for him, all the weapons the U.S.A. Army used ten years earlier were designed by Tony and he never got any credit for that. Two years after he quit Hammer Industries, they lost that contract because they simply had nothing new to offer.

“Good evening, Mr Hammer, if you don’t mind, I’m just gonna take my date elsewhere, someplace where the toxicity level is more bearable. Bye.” Tony interrupted them unceremoniously and steered Pepper away from him as she threw apologies over her shoulder. “Don’t apologize to him, he’s trash.”

“Tony, you can’t act like this if you wanna be the CEO of the biggest tech company in the country. You need to make connections and keep good relation –“

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do that with anyone else, except for him, promise.” He rolled his eyes once they got to the bar, where he leaned on the counter and flirted with the barman, before ordering two drinks.

“Great, then I hope you intend to keep a good relationship with Mr. Osborn,” she whispered, looking around to make sure nobody was listening. “Just a quick reminder: fucking his boyfriend is not very friendly.”

“Peter’s not his boyfriend,” he answered automatically, before taking a sip of his scotch, his eyes scanning the room until he found the younger man in a small circle of people, along with Mr. Osborn and his date. Tony hated that so much, the boy looked devastated but he was still there. Why the fuck was he still there? He didn’t need that shit. “They didn’t even come together today.”

“Okay, not the answer I was looking for, not a reassuring answer at all.” Pepper spoke to herself under her breath, then grabbed him by the jaw, forcing him to look at her. “Tony Stark, I hope you’re not –“

“Jesus, relax!” He snapped, freeing his face from her grip. “You and Natasha are driving me mad with this, I swear to God, the more you tell me not to do it, the more I wanna do it, just out of spite. Leave it alone, will ya?”

“Fine, whatever, do what you want, that always works out perfectly for you,” she snapped right back, taking her drink from the counter and walking away from him. “Don’t come crying to me when it all blows up in your face!”

Tony ignored her, they always had those arguments – she was usually right, Tony usually fucked up somehow and he usually went crying to her anyway, and she always helped him, so whatever. He was slightly tipsy, anyway, he would regret the whole thing in the morning, but right at that moment he was focused on Peter. The young man seemed really uncomfortable and out of place where he stood, among a few businessmen, but he was still there.

Norman stood to his left with his date, talking animatedly with the other men. To Peter’s right, there was a tall, slender man, in his early forties, and he wouldn’t take his eyes off of the boy. Sometimes he would whisper things in his ear, eliciting a small, polite smile from him, but no answer. Some other times he would rest a hand on his waist for no particular reason and Tony would watch with amusement as the boy tried to get away politely. Norman watched the whole interaction discreetly, carefully, but didn’t intervene.

Eventually, Peter excused himself and headed towards the bathroom. Tony watched the other man and, sure enough, he followed him there a few seconds later, under Norman’s intense gaze, a small smirk playing on his lips. Tony quickly understood what was probably going on. Again, the older man was disappointed in the boy. Such a smart kid, with so much potential, he could do so much better. Tony turned towards the bar, ordering another scotch. Since he was there, with no date, and nothing else to do, it wouldn’t hurt to have a few drinks.

Several minutes later, he was leaning against the bar, talking to Mr. Zimmer, the CEO of Accutech, and actually scored a meeting for the following week to pitch his nanobots. After his deal with Oscorps, he was able to close two smaller ones and had a few more meetings scheduled. As he imagined, people took notice of Stark Industries after that. Having such a huge, important company such as Oscorps trusting SI meant a lot to potential partners.

As soon as Mr. Zimmer left, Tony saw Peter rushing across the room and out the door. He seemed really upset and agitated, so the older man followed him outside. When he found him again, Peter seemed a little lost. He looked around, as if he didn’t really know which way to go – the gala was held in one of Osborn’s mansions upstate and even leaving the premises was difficult to do without a car, the property was huge. He checked his phone, then, but Tony noticed the screen didn’t light up, it was probably dead. The kid ran his hands through his hair, seemingly desperate, and finally Tony decided to put him out of his misery.

“Hey, kid.” He stepped closer to the boy and he turned quickly, almost as if he was ready to throw a punch or something. “Whoa, there!” Tony held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, examining the boy’s face. He looked distressed, his eyes and face were red and he was a little out of breath. “Hey, are you ok? Do you need a ride home?” His eyes lit up in relief, his face relaxing instantly.

“Would you mind?” He almost pleaded and Tony was a little taken aback by the tone. “It’s just – my phone’s dead and – I just really need to get home.”

“Sure, kid, it’s fine, I was heading home anyway, c’mon.” Tony asked a valet to bring his car around and watched Peter as the younger man seemed to calm down slowly, but he was still acting a little out of sorts as they waited for the car to arrive. “Is everything okay, Peter?”

“Yeah, sure, just a little tired, I guess.” He lied, a fake smile on his face. He was easy to read, most of the time, when he wasn’t trying to attract older, rich men, Tony supposed.

Once the valet brought the car around, Tony opened the door for Peter, who quickly slipped inside like it was an oasis. Tony tipped the valet and joined the younger man, noticing that he seemed almost relieved to be leaving the party.

“Rough night?” Tony asked conversationally once he started the car, pulling away from the driveway. It was a stupid question, but he couldn’t help it.

“Try rough couple of months,” he scoffed, running a hand though his once tamed hair, elbow resting against the window.

“Wanna talk about it?” He looked at the younger man from the corner of his eye and saw him shake his head weakly.

“Not really,” he mumbled and they fell silent. Tony wanted to say something else, but Peter didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk, so he just drove for a few minutes, heading for the city, when the kid spoke up again. “I’m so sorry for the trouble, you can drop me off anywhere, I’ll just take the subway.”

“Don’t be silly, I’ll drive you home. Where is home, by the way?” Tony knew Peter lived with four other students close to campus, but he didn’t know where exactly.

“Harlem.” He sighed, sounding annoyed. “Ugh, that’s the last place I want to be right now,” he mumbled, mostly to himself, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Why? Trouble with your roommates?” Tony raised a brow and the boy shook his head a little.

“Not really, they’re just really loud, specially on weekends. They probably have people over right now and I’m not in the mood, it’s all.” He gave him a tiny smile, but he didn’t really mean it.

“Tell you what,” Tony started, choosing his next words carefully. “Why don’t you come to my place?” He saw from the corner of his eye when Peter almost broke his neck turning to look at him in surprise. “Just for a few hours, so you can cool down some. We can have a few drinks, grab a bite to eat, and once you’re feeling better, I’ll drive you home. Or you can crash there, whatever you prefer. What do you say?” He turned to look at the young man and his eyes were wide, mouth agape in shock. Tony almost wanted to laugh.

“Uh – I don’t – I don’t want to be a bother, sir, you’ve alre--”

“Don’t be silly, I wouldn’t be offering if it was a bother. You don’t need to say yes if you don’t want to, but if you do, you’ll make this old man very happy, I wouldn’t mind some company tonight.” Tony smiled charmingly at him and Peter blushed, the older man could tell there were a million things going through his head.

“Uhm. Okay. Yeah, sure.” He nodded and Tony’s heart did a little flip in his chest and he didn’t even know why. If he was honest, he had no idea what he was doing or why he was doing it, he just wasn’t ready to let the younger man go.

The rest of the drive was long and mostly silent. Peter was usually very lively and talkative in the lab, he always had some fun fact to share or an anecdote about something that happened in class, but that night he was gloomy and quiet, but he still answered to Tony’s small talk. When they arrived at the older man’s penthouse, Peter was a little nervous, looking around as if he was out of place, looking almost regretful. Tony decided that he hated seeing him like that.

“Hey, wanna see something cool?” He asked as soon as they walked into the living room. The young man turned to look at him curiously, a small smile on his face as he nodded. “Evening, Jarvis. Could you get the windows, please?” As he said that, Peter frowned, then jumped almost a foot in the air when the A.I. answered.

“Good evening, sir, I hope you had a good time at the party.” As he said that, an entire wall of the living room turned from blurred, dark glass to transparent glass, revealing an amazing view of the city skyline. “Good evening, Mr. Parker.”

“What – how – you have an AI here? How does he know who I am?” Peter half whispered, half shouted, apparently undecided if he should be concerned or amazed. Tony laughed and placed a hand on Peter’s lower back, guiding him towards the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“I don’t only have it, I made it. And he’s equipped with an advanced face recognition technology that I designed, in case anyone comes in here with ill intentions. I started working on Jarvis when I was at Hammer Industries, it was supposed to go to the military, but after I resigned, I decided to keep it to myself. Jarvis runs the house and helps me in the lab.” Tony stuck his hands in his pockets and observed as the young man leaned against the window, looking amazed and a little lost.

“So cool!” Peter’s eyes were round and excited, all the gloominess from earlier apparently forgotten. “Can I talk to him? Like, will it acknowledge my voice?”

“Of course, Mr. Parker, why wouldn’t I?”

“Hi, Jarvis!” And just like that, Peter stroke up the silliest conversation with Jarvis, as Tony headed to the kitchen. He decided that since Peter wasn’t really allowed to drink, he’d make them some coffee, and later they could order something to eat. When he went back to the living room, the young man was still leaning against one of the windows as Jarvis tried to convince him that he had no intention of starting a rebellion to wipe out humanity.

“Don’t worry, Jarvis wouldn’t do that,” Tony smiled, placing two mugs on the coffee table and Peter shrugged.

“I wish he would, sometimes I think we failed as a species.” He turned around to face the engineer with a cheeky smile. Fuck, he was so beautiful. “Thank you for everything, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”

“You would have figured something out, you’re resourceful. Maybe you would have built a car out of a cardboard box, two paper clips and four potatoes.” He leaned against the window beside Peter and the young man looked up at him with a grin.

“Or maybe I would have found someone to lend me a charger so I could call an Uber?” He bumped Tony’s shoulder with his own and the older man scoffed.

“Yeah, but that would’ve been boring, don’t you think?” He raised a brow with a grave face and the young man laughed.

“You’re right, this is much more fun.” His face was so open, so beautiful, all awkwardness from before completely gone. Tony leaned in to whisper close to his ear.

“It can get better.” He pulled back a little to look at the boy’s face. He looked surprised, eyes wide and lips parted, but he didn’t pull away, he didn’t take a single step back, so Tony took a chance. He placed one hand gently on his cheek, testing his reaction, and Peter’s breath hitched, his gaze dropped to Tony’s lips, but he stood still, breathing rapidly but quietly. That was all the answer he needed.

He buried his hand in those curls he’d been dreaming about for months, as his other arm snaked around his thin waist, pulling him close, no chance of escape. Not that he thought that Peter would try to escape if he could, anyway. Tony felt intoxicated when their lips touched, Peter’s mouth was as soft as it looked, his skin as smooth as he imagined. The younger man melted against him, bodies flush together as Tony’s tongue begged for entrance in his mouth.

He pushed him against the window, once again testing the young man’s reaction to his advances, but Peter was so far gone, he barely seemed to notice they’d changed positions. Tony kissed him deeply, slowly, as his hands made their way around the boy’s hips, thumbs stroking his hipbones over the silk shirt, and he sighed. Tony licked into his mouth, swallowing his little gasps and whimpers, and he could tell that Peter had never been kissed like that before, if the way his legs gave out were any indication. He held him up, though, his body trapped between the older man’s and the cold window.

He felt Peter’s erection already poking his upper thigh and he smiled into the kiss, feeling his own cock start to swell against Peter’s lower stomach. He moaned quietly, pulling away from the kiss for a few seconds to check if the boy was doing okay, but Peter didn’t even open his eyes, he just rocked his hips slowly, rubbing his erection against Tony’s thigh. Feeling confident enough, the older man lowered his hands to his perfect ass, squeezing his cheeks tightly as he pulled him even closer to him. Just as he imagined, it was firm, yet supple, it filled his hands nicely, and Tony didn’t hesitate to lift him a little by the ass, aligning their cocks and pressing both erections together.

“Mr. Stark,” he whimpered, humping against Tony, trying to balance his weight on the tips of his toes as Tony held him up. The older man took advantage of the way he threw his head back, exposing his throat, to make his way down his skin, peppering his long, pale neck with kisses and bites. Peter moaned as he tried to undo Tony’s suit jacket, which he allowed, putting just a little distance between them. He went back to his mouth with another kiss, faster than before, more urgent, before pulling away just a few inches, panting against the kid’s mouth.

“C’mon, babe, let me take you to bed,” he whispered and Peter nodded quickly.

Tony took his hand and led him to his own room, and as soon as they were inside, he pushed Peter against the king sized bed and quickly started working on his shirt, every inch of silky, white skin it revealed made the older man harder. Peter smelt and looked expensive as fuck, his skin was smooth as a baby’s, not a single hair in sight, and it was soft and unmarked, peppered only with a few light brown freckles along the collarbones. His nipples were tiny and light pink, hard from excitement and begging to be bitten.

Tony wanted to eat him up – and out – he always looked good when they were in the lab, in his cute slacks, dress shoes and lab jacket, but that night he looked delicious, like an expensive meal, and Tony was a starving man. He got rid of the shirt, revealing his thin chest and surprisingly defined abs, and he worshiped the exposed skin, covered it with open mouthed, wet kisses and bites until it turned red from the abuse. He wanted to mark him up, leave bruises on him so that at least for a while, Peter could be his.

He took a perked up nipple in his mouth and sucked it mercilessly, as he pinched the other one between his fingers, and Peter gasped, hands flying to grab Tony’s shoulders. He didn’t waste too much time, though, and quickly started undoing his pants, pulling them down his legs. The act revealed even more soft, smooth skin and plump, soft thighs that the older man couldn’t help biting. Peter whined quietly when Tony splayed his open palms on his legs and squeezed, as he sucked bruises on the boy’s inner thighs. His face was so close to his cock, covered only in tight, black boxer briefs, so Tony rubbed his cheek against it and Peter cried out. As soon as he lowered his boxers, Peter’s cock sprung free, and Tony was delighted. It was small and flushed pink, rock hard and already dripping pre-cum. The older man didn’t think twice as he put it all in his mouth, eliciting a scream from the young man.

“Oh, my God, Mr. Stark!” He bucked his hips wildly, his legs falling open, and, for the second time that evening, Tony thought that maybe nobody had ever done that to him. “Oh, God! Fuck!” He kept moaning desperately, as Tony sank his fingers in his ass cheeks, bobbing his head up and down, sucking and licking his shaft and paying extra attention to the head. Peter kept both of his hands beside his body, clenching at the sheets, not daring to touch Tony or demand anything. The second the older man’s fingers touched his balls, he lost it. “Mr. Stark, please, I – Oh, God, oh my God –“ He blushed furiously, Tony noticed when he raised his head and let go of his cock with a loud pop.

His whole face and chest were flushed pink, he held his upper body up, resting on his elbows as he panted, looking thoroughly debauched. His once gelled curls were wild and loose, covering his forehead, and Tony just wanted to ruin him even more. He smirked at the younger man, who seemed completely out of it, barely able to understand what was happening. Tony lifted his legs, pressing his bent knees to his chest and Peter got the idea and held his legs in place, exposing himself beautifully to him.

The older man’s mouth watered as he looked at his quivering, pink hole. It looked so fucking tight and so fucking ready for his cock at the same time, he could see Peter was mortified in that position, but he still held himself open, so eager for what was to come. Tony grabbed his ass cheeks and spread them, burying his face in his crack and licking a stripe up from his tailbone to his balls, only to hear the young man screaming desperately.

Tony was feeling really smug, he didn’t remember the last he made anyone scream like that. He was always a generous lover, he liked giving his partners pleasure, but Peter didn’t seem to be used to it if his reactions were anything to go by, so the older man took even more pleasure in making him feel so good.

“Mr. Stark, I’m gonna – I’m not gonna last, please!” Tony pretended not to hear him, as he kept licking over his rim before he started to try to breach him with his tongue, as Peter cried out, bucking his hips. The older man held him in place and kept trying to fuck his tongue into him, until he felt Peter’s fingers in his hair, pulling him up. “I wanna come with you inside me – please,” he whispered once Tony’s lips were over his mouth, his cock perfectly aligned with the boy’s hole.

He grunted and kissed him again, just as wildly and roughly as he did before. The young man quickly started undoing Tony’s shirt, and only then did he realize that he was still dressed as Peter laid on his bed completely naked. He groaned into the kiss, because fuck, that was hot, but he helped the boy take off his shirt and undershirt.

Peter curled one leg around his waist, kissing Tony back enthusiastically and a little less shyly now that the older was a little undressed as well. He ran his soft hands all over Tony’s broad back, then up his shoulders and into his thick hair, all the while moaning and bucking his hips, begging to be touched. Tony took advantage of the position they were in to slide his fingers in between Peter’s cheeks, feeling his tight entrance twitch, anticipating the touch. He didn’t do much more, though, he just kept kneading his ass, letting his fingertips just slightly brush against his quivering hole.

Peter grew impatient then, and instead of pushing his hips up, against Tony’s own cock, he started pushing then down, against his fingers. The older man chuckled, brushing his chin against the pale neck, already noticing it turning pink with beard burn.

“Mr. Stark, c’mon, please, I--” He mumbled incoherently, holding on for dear life to his shoulders, his breath short, swollen, wet lips parted, his lids heavy. A vision of paradise. “I need--”

Tony knew what he needed, but he wouldn’t give it to him just yet. Still, he let his middle finger wander towards his entrance, feeling his hole clenching, trying to pull it inside, ready to take whatever Tony was willing to give. He grabbed his thighs again, spreading them far apart, making Peter yelp in surprise. He kissed his hole gently one last time, then moved away, getting off the bed.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.” Tony smirked, undoing his pants, and he noticed Peter’s eyes intent on him. As soon as his cock sprung free, the young man whimpered, whispering “fuck” and biting his lips hard. “Like what you see?” Tony asked, cockily, he knew it was a nice view. He was nicely groomed and his cock was cut, long and thick, and at the moment it was rock hard like never before and dripping with pre-cum. He stepped out of his pants and headed towards the night stand before Peter could answer. He grabbed a bottle lube and made his way back to the bed, positioning himself between his legs once again.

He coated his fingers with plenty of lube and breached his entrance with one fingertip, only to hear a long, deep moan coming from the younger man, who clung to his shoulders for dear life. He fucked his finger in and out of him, slowly at first, but quicker as Peter’s hips started moving along with him, begging for more. Tony leaned down and kissed him, and felt one of Peter’s hands in his hair, as he curled both of his legs around the older man’s waist. Tony kept kissing him as he sunk another finger in his hole, eliciting a surprised moan from him, as he tried to adjust to the stretch.

They kept kissing and rocking against each other eagerly, as Tony fucked him open with his fingers, scissoring and curling them, until he couldn’t take it anymore, he needed to be inside him. He drew back just enough to hold his cock, guiding it towards Peter’s entrance. Slowly and unrelentingly, Tony sank his cock inside him, blinded with pleasure as each inch sank further inside. Peter whined in pain but didn’t budge or asked him to stop, he took it like a good boy, holding still, legs spread wide, until Tony bottomed out. When he did, he wrapped his arms around his slight frame, lifting him a little from the bed, and Peter took a deep breath, holding his shoulders.

“That’s it, sweetie, you’re so good for me, I’m gonna make you feel so good.” Tony whispered nonsensically in his ear, kissing his cheeks and neck gently, waiting for him to adjust. They stayed like that for a few seconds, until Peter started rocking his hips slowly, and Tony soon caught on. He grabbed his hips and slammed once inside him, hearing a scream coming from the younger man. He drew back and slowly built up a pace, slamming against him like there was no tomorrow. He moaned loudly, a mixture of pleasure and pain, Tony could tell, but instead of asking him to slow down, he pushed back against him just as hard, biting his neck.

Tony may have lost his mind somewhere along the way, pure instinct took over as he fucked into him with abandon, he heard his screams and moans and they made him hit harder, harder, and he thought he heard the younger man screaming just that, as he sank his nails into his shoulders and down his back, until he grabbed Tony’s ass and pulled him closer, faster, harder –

“Oh – Oh, Mr. Stark – I –“ Peter rolled his eyes back and it took Tony the better part of a minute to realize that he was coming, and he hadn’t even touched his cock. Spurts of his warm, white come covered both of their chests and Tony could feel that some of it caught on his chin. The sight of Peter underneath him – debauched, utterly satisfied, ruined – was enough to bring Tony over the edge, the force of his orgasm was almost blinding, something that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He let himself fall on top of Peter, barely aware of the fact that he was maybe a little too heavy for that, but the younger man didn’t seem to mind, if the soft, barely there caresses on his back were anything to go by.

They were silent for several minutes, bodies cooling down and falling asleep, but Tony’s mind was wide awake. What had he done? Peter was supposed to be off limits for a number of reasons, so many he couldn’t even focus on a single one. He felt the young man sigh softly under him, his hands drawing circles on his back peacefully.

“This was nice,” he whispered and it triggered something in Tony, because, fuck, it was perfect. It was perfect, but it was a lie, wasn’t it? Peter wasn’t really into him. He was just – he was just a fucking –

“I really hope this was a free trial, ‘cause I don’t think I can afford you, kid.” The minute the words left his mouth, he felt the younger man go rigid beneath him. He quickly pushed at Tony’s shoulders, trying to raise his upper body and the older man easily rolled off of him to the side, resting his head on his clasped hands on the pillow.

“What are you insinuating?” Peter asked with a frown, suddenly appearing very uncomfortable, gathering the sheets around him to cover his exposed skin.

“I’m not insinuating anything, I’m just saying I don’t think I have enough money to pay for this very expensive meal.” He wiggled his eyebrows, smirking, pretending he wasn’t as affected by what happened as he was. Peter turned bright red, his mouth falling open, gaping like a fish.

“What – I –“ he stammered, frozen for a few seconds before he jumped into action and out of bed, taking the sheets with him as he looked for his clothes around the room. “I can’t believe you just said that, you fucking asshole! Fuck you!” He yelled towards the bed and Tony was a little surprised by his reaction.

“Chill, it was a joke.” He rolled his eyes, noticing that he young man was almost fully dressed by then, at least he had his pants and shirt on, his tie and jacket were draped over his arm as he looked for his shoes. When he turned back to Tony, his whole face was inhumanly red and soaked in tears, it made Tony’s heart clench. “Jesus, kid!”

“I’m not laughing, asshole!” He yelled again, marching towards the door without looking back. “You’re all the fucking same, bunch of assholes, what was I thinking? I’m so fucking stup– ” Tony couldn’t hear the rest of his rant because he slammed the door with so much force that the older man was pretty sure he felt the building shaking a little bit.

Well, fuck.

--*--

Two weeks later, when Tony stepped inside the lab, he had a whole plan figured out. After Peter left that night, he went through all five stages of admitting he had been an asshole – as was common for him, he usually went through those at least a few times a week.

So, first, he denied it.

“The kid is obviously overreacting, right? It was just a joke and, even if it wasn’t, well, I wouldn’t have been that far off from the truth.”

Then, he was angry.

“Fuck that kid, he had no right to react the way he did, who does he think he is, slamming the door like that, yelling at me, calling me names, all because of a stupid little joke? Fuck him.”

Then, he bargained.

“So, okay, maybe I was a little over the line, but I can fix it, right? It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Then he felt a little sad, because, fuck, thinking back to their time together, the kid had never been anything but nice to him, he didn’t deserve that and Tony always fucked up with people, what was wrong with him?

Finally, he fully accepted it. He was definitely, irrevocably and undoubtedly an asshole. They had a nice time together, the kid was the best lay he had in fucking years, and sure, maybe he was with Norman for money or whatever, but what they did, what they shared that night – it felt pretty fucking real and Tony blew it.

So when he walked into the lab two weeks later, he had it all figured out. He would ask Peter to stay a little late, then, when everybody left, he would apologize to him sincerely and since he had a taste for expensive gifts, he even got him a gold bracelet, just as an “I’m sorry I was an asshole” gift, a peace offering.

The thing was, when he walked into the lab, Peter was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Mr. Parker?” He asked the closest lab tech and the young woman shrugged, uninterested.

“He quit a few weeks ago, I heard.” She mumbled, concentrated on the microscope in front of her, and Tony cursed under his breath, feeling even more guilty than before. Had the kid felt so offended that he decided to quit the team? That couldn’t be right, he was Norman’s boy, how would he justify that to him? He wouldn’t tell him about them, would he? Tony figured that if he had told Norman anything, he would have heard about it by then, but everything seemed normal and in order, other than Peter’s absence from the lab.

“He went back to being Mr. Osborn’s intern?” He asked just to clarify, maybe he could go talk to him after he was done in the lab for the day.

“No, he quit Oscorps.” She looked at him like he was asking dumb questions, like everyone should know that piece of information.

Tony did not expect that. His heart raced a little when he heard those words, for some reason. He thought he should be relieved, one less thing to worry about. With Peter gone, he wouldn’t need to worry about apologizing or Norman finding out about them. He didn’t need to worry about things getting weird in the lab or Peter trying to use it against him or something. But he wasn’t relieved. He was – what was he feeling? Whenever he thought about the possibility of not seeing Peter ever again, his heart clenched.

The engineer couldn’t understand what was going on inside him, he just needed to talk to Peter, fucking apologize, get him back on the team, make sure that they would still see each other every month, that they would still talk, and laugh together, and share a workbench so small their hips touched every now and again.

Which was why Tony found himself waiting at the main entrance of Columbia's Morningside Heights campus on Wednesday evening, probably looking suspicious as hell as he swept the crowd, looking for a familiar face. It was a long shot, but he new Peter had classes every afternoon and he knew at what time he was done most days. He guessed the young man would take a train at the subway station on 116th Street, so there he was, looking and waiting.

After almost two hours and no luck, Tony was ready to give up and leave when he saw him walking out, arms full of text books, a heavy looking backpack hanging from one shoulder. He was wearing reading glasses, baggy, ripped jeans, and a graphic t-shirt underneath an oversized gray hoodie and Tony realized he had never seen him like that, he was always well dressed at work and he only ever saw him in other two occasions: his dinner with Norman and at the gala.

Tony thought he looked even more beautiful like that, stripped off of all the fancy things that made him look like an expensive doll. He looked at ease and comfortable and Tony felt a weird desire to hold him. Fucking hold him. Not rip off his clothes and fuck him – well, that too – but to take him into his arms, pull him close and breathe into his his wild curls.

“Hey, Peter,” Tony called out loud enough for him to hear and as soon as his eyes made contact with the older man’s, his face turned red and his eyes widened before he dropped his gaze to the ground, picking up the pace to walk away from Tony. “Hey, hold on, kid, c’mon, I’m talking to you.” The engineer quickly followed, grabbing him by the arm and making him turn around.

“What do you want, what are you doing here?” He asked impatiently, looking around as if afraid to make a scene, there were a lot of people walking in and out of campus at that time.

“You quit Oscorps,” the older man stated, dumbly, and Peter stared at him as if he wanted to say just that. He waited to see if Tony would say anything more and he really meant to, but nothing else came out of his stupid mouth.

“Yeah, and?” He prompted, holding his books close to his chest defensively, getting ready for a fight, but Tony just shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“And now I don’t have any engineers on my team,” he offered, as kind of a joke, he thought, but again, Peter wasn’t laughing.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He rolled his eyes and tried to walk away, but Tony held him back again. “What the hell, don’t touch me!”

“Ok, sorry, I’m sorry.” He let go of his arm and raised both of his hands in a peace offering. “I’m trying to apologize here, I’m not very good at this.”

“Clearly,” Peter snarked, and Tony nodded.

“Right. Ok. I deserve that. Look, let me just –“ He wracked his brain for something to say, he really should have thought it through. The thing was, he thought Peter would be a little more… Compliant. He didn’t expect him to still be that pissed off after almost two weeks. “Let me treat you to dinner, how about that? So we can clear the air?”

“No, thanks,” Peter answered quickly and started to walk away again, heading to the subway station. Since grabbing him and trying to stop him didn’t seem like a good idea, Tony started walking alongside him.

“Hey, c’mon, don’t be so stubborn, I’m just trying to apologize here,” he insisted, attracting Peter’s impatient gaze, as he still tried to balance all the books in his arms.

“You’re forgiven, is that what you wanna hear?” He snapped, and Tony was taken aback by the anger and hurt in his eyes. “There you go. You’re absolved! Goodbye now.” Again, he tried to leave the older man behind, but Tony didn’t let him.

“Hey, kid, don’t be so difficult, I just--”

“Tony!” Weirdly enough, after everything they’d done, that was the first time the younger man called him by his first name and even if the situation was less than ideal, it still sent a shiver down his spine. The boy stopped walking to look at him dead in the eye. “You called me a whore, now you’re asking me to dinner! What am I supposed to think here? I’m not for sale, I’m sorry if I misled you, go bother someone else.”

“Peter, I’m sincerely, honest to God, just trying to apologize here. I know I was an asshole and you didn’t deserve to be treated like that, nobody does, I’m sorry, I was way out of line. I just wanna take you to dinner because I think you’re a good kid, I know you enjoyed working with me and you looked up to me somehow, so I just wanna make it up to you, ok? I promise, nothing else. I just don’t want you to have the wrong impression of me. I’m a good guy, I’m just kind of an asshole sometimes.” Tony tried to convey all his honesty through his eyes, which made Peter deflate a little bit. The young man stared at him for a few seconds with a frown on his forehead, before he sighed, rolling his eyes.

“You’re very annoying,” he said, matter-of-factly, and the older man nodded.

“I’m known to be quite annoying, yeah,” he admitted, putting on his best pleading face, puppy eyes and all. “Let me make it up to you,” he insisted, and Peter rolled his eyes and sighed in resignation.

“Fine, dinner. Not tonight, though, I have work.” Tony cheered on the inside – and a little on the outside – but the younger man kept a straight face.

“Whenever you’re free.” Peter thought for a second and it almost seemed like he was regretting it already.

“Tomorrow, then. You can pick me up here. And I’ll choose the restaurant.” He stuck up his nose, defiantly, and Tony just spread his arms in surrender.

“Fair enough.”

So Tony decided to be a perfect gentleman, he put on a nice suit, he bought some flowers and took the gold “I’m sorry I was a jerk” bracelet with him when he went to pick Peter up. He was sure he would pick the most expensive restaurant in New York as payback and maybe he would order the most expensive things on the menu and, yeah, Tony knew he was really stupid if he were to comply, but, apparently, he wasn’t as smart as he once thought. And apparently he wasn’t immune to cute boys who knew how to play their cards right. So, yeah, maybe he fell right into Peter’s web in the end and maybe he wasn’t too upset about it. He could afford to spend a few dollars on him, have a good meal, smart conversations, and then move on. Because that’s what it was, right? Just him needing closure, if nothing else.

Except, when he parked his car, Peter was standing on the sidewalk in plain blue jeans and a cheap gray sweater and he looked thoroughly amused by Tony’s outfit when he got out of the car to get the door for him. He offered him the flowers and the boy was even more amused, a small chuckle leaving his lips when he read the “I’m sorry I was a jerk” card. Tony decided not to give him the bracelet after all, didn’t seem like a good idea by the looks of it.

“Where do you think we’re going?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, stopping in front of Tony before he got in the car.

“I was thinking a three-star Michellin restaurant?” The older man frowned and the boy snorted, apparently very amused.

“Yeah, and how in the hell would I afford to eat there, Mr. Stark?” He cocked his head to the side with feigned curiosity and Tony frowned.

“Afford? What – no, I’m buying! This is an ‘I’m sorry’ dinner. Besides, I invited you, it’s only polite.” He argued, but the boy quickly shook his head.

“You’ve apologized enough.” He gestured to the flowers. “Besides, I’m sorry, but I’m a little skeptical about gratuitous generosity at the moment, so we’re just gonna get some cheap pizza if that’s ok with you.” He shrugged, pointing in the general direction of the pizza place he was probably planning to go.

“What? Peter, come on. At least –“

“I only agreed to come if you let me choose the restaurant, so it’s either this or I’m heading back home.” He threatened to turn away and Tony jumped to stop him.

“No, no, sorry, you’re right. It’s your pick.” He opened the door to the passenger seat before Peter could change his mind and leave.

They got inside the car and Tony followed the young man’s instructions to the pizza joint, it wasn’t far from campus and was mostly empty when they got there. It was really not the sort of place that Tony went to anymore, but he couldn’t deny that was exactly the kind of restaurant he could afford when he was 19 at MIT. He was still a little confused by Peter’s choice of restaurant, not really sure if it was all a game, a plot to get back at him, but he seemed honest when he said he wanted to pay for his half.

“Maybe lose the jacket? And the tie?” He suggested with an amused smile from beside him when they parked the car and Tony chuckled slightly, doing just that and undoing the first three buttons of his shirt, rolling up the sleeves as well. “Much better.”

When they got inside the restaurant, Peter seemed to know the waiters, they sat at a table in the far back and ordered their drinks. They didn’t even have wine. A pizza place that didn’t serve wine, what even was that madness.

“So, you come here a lot? Everyone seems to know you around here.” Tony tried to start some amicable conversation and, surprisingly, Peter was receptive.

“I used to work here, actually. Before Oscorps.” He smiled fondly as he looked around, like he had some good memories there.

“Oh, cool.” Again, he was surprised by the boy’s story, Tony always assumed that he had an easy life. “Did I – was it because of me? The reason you quit?” He asked with a wince and Peter raised a brow, amused.

“Don’t be so self-important, it had nothing to do with you,” he rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, so Tony thought maybe he wasn’t that mad anymore. He sure seemed a lot calmer than the last time they met. “You’re a jerk, but I’ve dealt with worse.” Tony snorted, he couldn’t even be mad, Peter was just stating facts. He was a little curious to know what led him to quit his job, if it wasn’t Tony, and suddenly remembered how upset he was when they left the party. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to ask, though, they were just getting back on good terms.

“So, what are you doing now that you quit Oscorps?” Tony cocked his head to the side and the boy shrugged, playing with his paper napkin.

“Back to waiting tables and making coffee.” He smiled, he didn’t seem upset by the turn of events, which was… unexpected? It was just so odd. Tony had this idea that Peter liked to live that expensive lifestyle he had with Osborn, wasn’t that the whole point of being with him? His confusion must have shown on his face, because Peter chuckled, furrowing his brow. “What?”

“Nothing, I just –” He shook his head and gave up in the middle of the sentence.

“What, you thought I’d find another rich dude or something?” He creased his brow, looking genuinely confused, not mad. “Wait, do you actually think I’m an escort?” He asked as an afterthought, and Tony could deny it, but he didn’t think he could make it believable anyway.

“Not exactly, but – something like that, yeah,” He admitted, scratching the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed for the first time in a long time, and braced himself for the explosion, but Peter just showed him a sad little smile.

“You thought I was with him for his money,” he stated and Tony winced, because when Peter said it out loud, when those words came out of his mouth, they sounded so wrong. Like they could never be true. “It’s okay, I guess he thought that, too, and so did everyone else. My coworkers, the press, even some of my friends,” he scoffed, folding his napkin in half just to have something to do with his hands. “I guess I’m just a stupid kid who watched way too many Disney princess movies growing up. I blame my aunt, honestly.” He tried to joke and Tony shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have judged you, it wasn’t my place. I just thought it was so odd for a guy like you to be with a guy like him.” Such a beautiful, brilliant, young man like you deserved so much better than him, was what Toy didn’t dare to say.

“I loved him,” he said and it shouldn’t have stung, it shouldn’t have made Tony’s stomach twist and turn, and his heart clench, but it did. It fucking did. “Or I thought I did. Turns out I got it all wrong. I thought we were going somewhere, but he wasn’t really serious about me, which became very clear when he decided not to take me to the gala, so.” He blushed slightly and dropped his eyes to the table, still folding the napkin until it was impossible to keep folding.

“Yeah, but you still came. Why?” Tony insisted, because he really wanted to figure him out, he needed to, because Peter wasn’t who he thought he was, he wasn’t that person Tony was so quick to judge and he needed to know who he was, after all. Because – he just needed to.

“I guess I – I just thought... He would regret it or something, you know. Once he saw me.” He gave a self-deprecatory laugh, rubbing a hand across his forehead as if trying to physically erase something from his mind. “Like… A stupid rom-com or something, you know. Like, the happy ending scene. Whatever. It’s stupid.” He ran a hand through his hair, blushing even harder. “Again, I blame my aunt, she was the one who made me watch all these stupid movies.”

Tony wanted to say it wasn’t his fault that everybody else was fucked up and couldn’t see what an amazing person he was, but the waiter chose that moment to interrupt them with their food, which was good, because Peter perked up and actually looked excited, rubbing his hands together and looking at Tony expectantly.

“Try it, tell me if it’s not the best pizza you’ve ever had in your life.” Tony smiled at his excitement and grabbed a piece of the cheap pizza. As expected, it tasted like garbage, but he wouldn’t tell Peter that, obviously.

“Sorry, kid, it’s not. But I’m forty-five and I’ve been to Italy, so don’t look so bummed.” Peter deflated slightly, grabbing a piece of his own and taking a huge bite out of it, like it was the best meal ever.

“Fine then, the best pizza in New York?” He compromised and Tony was a hundred percent sure it was most definitely not the best pizza in New York, but –

“I’ll give you that.” He conceded and Peter beamed.

“I’ll take it.”

They fell into an easy conversation about engineering and about Peter’s expectations for the future, which ended up turning into a conversation about what Tony did after college. The older man told him about all the steps he took to get where he was, working for other companies, having his ideas stolen, not getting credit for his work, quitting multiple jobs, almost going bankrupt trying to get Stark Industries off the ground and then finally being in a comfortable place in his professional life at 45 – better late than never.

“I think it’s amazing how you managed to turn your life around, you know. It’s really inspiring.” Peter seemed truly moved by Tony’s story, and the older man knew it was quite impressive, but he just shrugged it off.

“Yeah, boo-hoo, but now that you know my sob story, you have to tell me yours.” He took another bite of the terrible pizza and decided that sometime after the third slice, it became almost edible. Key-word: almost.

“Well, there’s not much to say and it’s definitely not as interesting or as successful as yours, but let’s see. My parents died when I was really young, I think I was around four – I’m ashamed to say I don’t really remember them. I still have their pictures, but I just – you know.” Peter shrugged and, yeah, Tony knew. After his mom died, he couldn’t look at pictures of her for years; at the same time that he wanted to remember her, he kind of wanted to forget. “I was raised by my aunt May and uncle Ben, but he was killed in a mugging when I was ten. Fuck, my life story is such a downer, are you sure you wanna hear it?” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, and Tony smiled softly.

“As long as you wanna tell it, kid.” Peter took a deep breath, as if considering if he actually wanted to tell that story, but finally seemed to decide to go on.

“So, my aunt May was a nurse, she struggled to make ends meet, but she was just – amazing, you know? She was like a mother to me, she never left me wanting for anything, specially when it came to my education, which was how I was able to get into college so early. Anyway, she passed away almost two years ago from a stomach cancer. So… It’s just me now. I’m the last Parker standing.” He smiled sadly, dropping his gaze to stare at the slice of uneaten pizza in his plate.

“Fuck, that’s rough, kid. But hey, if it’s any consolation, I’m also the last Stark standing. Maybe we should start a club or something,” he joked to try to lighten up the mood and the young man giggled, looking back at him with a smile.

“Like, the Parker-Stark Lonely Orphans Club?” He asked cheekily and Tony laughed. “Anyway, a year ago I got into Oscorps’s internship program, which was a dream come true, but then I screwed it up by sleeping with the boss, because I’m an idiot. The end.” He snorted and, again, Tony was a little surprised to learn that Peter got the internship before he met Norman, but at that point, it wasn’t much of a shock, he should have seen it coming.

“So, can I ask what happened? Between you and Norman? What made you quit?” Tony asked carefully. As the night went on, he felt like he and Peter were getting more comfortable with each other, more comfortable than they could ever be all those months before, when Tony made such an effort to despise him.

“Ugh, it’s… Well, it’s embarrassing.” It was barely a whisper. Peter’s cheeks were bright red and he wouldn’t meet Tony gaze.

“It’s okay, you don't have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He reassured him, feeling confident enough to place a hand on top of his on the table. Peter stared at them for a few seconds, before looking up at him.

“It’s… Something he did at the party. He kept pushing me to this guy, you know. Some business partner or whatever. And I didn’t quite understand what he was trying to accomplish, but then I went to the bathroom and this guy followed me there and he – he tried – to kiss me. And to touch me.” He blushed, gaze fixed on the table between them once again. Tony tightened his grip on his hand. “When I pushed him away he said something about Norman not knowing how to teach his whores good manners. When I tried to talk to Norman – he said I owed him.” He frowned, lifting his eyes to look at him. “For all the expensive gifts, and nice restaurants, and everything he did for me. He said it was the least I could do.” He scoffed, but his cheeks were pink, like maybe some part of him believed that – believed that while he thought he was dating someone he loved, he was actually whoring himself out to him.

“That’s why you were so upset at the party,” he whispered, realizing what a massive jerk he’d been after that. The kid must have been feeling like shit that day. Used and expendable and lost. And then Tony treated him like a fucking cheap hooker. “Peter… I’m so sorry for that night, I didn’t –“

“It’s okay, I’m fine now. Don’t get me wrong, it was a total dick move, but I already knew you were kind of a dick, so no alarms, no surprises.” He smirked, trying to lighten the mood, but nothing he could say could ever absolve Tony of what he’d done, of the harm he’d caused him that night. Fuck, if he was Peter, he would never have talked to him again, let alone agreed to dinner. His behavior the previous night suddenly made perfect sense. “I quit the next day, put his stupid gifts in a box and sent it to the tower, he can choke on them for all that I care.” He shrugged, trying to appear non-nonchalant, but Tony knew the whole thing must still fucking hurt, it had only been two weeks.

“I sincerely hope he does,” Tony offered and Peter laughed out loud, throwing his head back in delight.

When they walked to the car at the end of the night, Tony could feel that something had changed between them. He felt like all that time he knew Peter he had been missing a huge chunk of information, which made all the difference in the world. He could see Peter now, the real him. The ride to his place was taken in comfortable silence and when Tony parked his car, neither of them moved. The older man turned towards the younger one and licked his lips. He knew the answer to the question he was gonna ask, he knew he deserved it, but still –

“Can I get you number?” It wasn’t part of the plan. The plan was to apologize, show the kid a good time as a way of making it up to him for the terrible things he said and move on. Go back to work, go back to his life, but now – now he was stuck. Looking at Peter and seeing a whole new person. Someone he wanted to get to know more, but knew he didn’t deserve.

“Oh, I don’t know, do you think you can afford it?” Peter teased, and Tony actually blushed, embarrassed to remember how much of a dick he’d been.

“Ugh, I said I was sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand across his face, only to hear Peter’s delighted chuckle.

“I’m just kidding, don’t worry. But I don’t think It’s a good idea, Tony.” He bit his lower lip and Tony nodded to himself, because, yeah, he knew it wasn’t. It shouldn’t be. Because Peter deserved so much better than him. “But this was nice. Thank you for caring enough to apologize.”

“It was the least I could do.” He gave him a small smile and was taken by surprised when the young man unceremoniously leaned in and kissed him. Tony didn’t waste any time burying his hand in his hair, pulling him impossibly close as their lips brushed softly and tongues met in a sweet embrace. The young man pulled away after just a few seconds, though, and Tony didn’t even have the courage to open his eyes and acknowledge it was over. “Are you sure this isn’t a good idea? Because it sure tastes like a great fucking idea. I would know, I have great ideas all the time, ask anyone.” Tony whispered and Peter laughed, his face was still so close the older man could feel his breath on his lips.

“Goodbye, Tony. Good luck with your company,” he smiled, as he opened to door to get out of the car.

“I’ll miss you on my team.” Which was to say, I’ll miss you. Plain and simple.

“I’m sure you’ll find a replacement in no time.” I won’t, I don’t want to. I want you. “Gotta go now, I have work in the morning. Bye!” He got out and closed the door behind him, waving one last time before he walked away.

“Goodbye, Peter,” he whispered to the empty car, hands clutching the steering-wheel as he watched the boy disappear into the building.

--*--

Working at Oscorps was not the same without Peter. First, because he was actually a very good intern who helped a lot with every single task Tony assigned him. Second, because even though he hadn’t noticed it before, he always looked forward to talking to him. To learning those tiny little pieces of information the boy let escape through his lips once in a while, only to blush profusely and apologize seconds later.

Still, he kept going. Norman never bothered him, which was nice, and as the remaining months passed, Tony’s name became more and more recognizable, he closed so many deals over the course of that year, he was able to more than double his team and the office and lab they used to work got way too small for them. He started looking for some other place to go and the more he thought about it, more sense it made to move SI headquarters to California. Most of his partners were there and he would also be closer to his suppliers and many other business opportunities.

So after talking to Pepper, Nat, Rhodey, Happy and Bruce – “the original six”, as they liked to call themselves, including Tony –, he decided to move right after his contract with Oscorps was done in December. Those last few months were crazy and got crazier when B.A.R.F. was finally announced to the public. Both the product and the technology behind it sent Stark Industries to a whole other level, their stocks skyrocketed and Tony literately became the richest man in New York overnight, even richer than Norman – and that was saying something.

Which was why, when December rolled around and Osborn invited him to dinner to discuss the possibility of renewing the contract and he showed up with some supermodel hanging off his arm, he couldn’t help but think of the first time he was in that same situation. He remembered how nervous he was before the dinner, how excited he felt when they closed the deal and how gorgeous Peter looked that night. But he remembered, specially, what Osborn did to the younger man months after that. How he’d treated him, what he’d said to him.

“So, what do you say, Stark? Wanna be partners for five more years?” Osborn’s smile was kind of creepy, he hadn’t noticed it before. He offered him a hand and Tony stared at it for what felt like hours, although it was probably only a few seconds. It was great fucking deal, way better than the one he had before, but –

“You know what, Norman?” He smiled to himself and took a deep breath, wishing he was wearing his smart glasses so he could record his reaction. “Fuck you.” He beamed, standing up from his chair, admiring the expression of shock and horror on the older man’s face. He buttoned his suit jacket and, still smiling like a madman, left the restaurant like he owned the place – which he could, if he wanted.

On his last night in New York, he decided to look for Peter. He didn’t want to pressure him or anything, but they hadn’t seen each other in almost six months, so maybe something might have changed for him. Tony still couldn’t get him out of his head, each day that passed he wished he’d done things differently, so fucking differently.

He wished he’d been nicer, from day one. He wished he had lived up to his expectations, his hero worship. He wished he could have been a decent human being, a shoulder to cry on that night he was so vulnerable and broken. He wished he could have wooed him and gotten him to fall in love with him, the way he’d fallen for him.

He wanted a second chance, he really did, but when he knocked on the door of the apartment the boy used to live, the place where Tony had said goodbye to him all those months ago, some stoned college kid answered the door. When he asked about Peter, the boy just shrugged.

“He moved away a while ago, dude. Got a job somewhere or something.”

So that was it. Tony didn’t have his number and Peter wasn’t on social media – at least Jarvis couldn’t find him, and he sure as hell looked. So he gathered the last of his stuff and left New York for good, mind wandering to those few moments he’d spent with Peter, thinking how different things could have been if he hadn’t been so quick to judge.

No point crying over spilled milk.

Stark Industries flourished in L.A. All of Tony’s crazy, genius ideas were funded, so he finally finished his arc reactor project – something he’d started as a teen, but didn’t have the resources to continue – and started a line of electronics – computers, cellphones, tablets, all the good stuff. After the first couple of months, he bought a mansion in Malibu, just because he could, and finally felt like his life was heading in the right direction.

Still, it felt like there was a Peter-shaped whole in it, which was insane, they’d only known each other for a little over five months, it made no sense how much he missed him, they hadn’t seen each other in almost a year, and still there were nights he could fucking smell Peter’s scent on his sheets – sheets he’d never even laid on. Could feel his soft skin under his fingertips as he hugged his pillow close to his chest, the way he wished he’d held him that night when he stormed off, humiliated and hurt. Those nights he couldn’t sleep, could only stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out time travel, just so he could go back and fix things.

Once he was settled in California, he was invited to give lectures in universities all over the country. MIT was first, then NYU, Stanford, Yale, UCLA and, finally, Caltech in late November. His lectures were usually about the arc reactor, clean energy was in fashion, everybody was talking about it, and the fact that he figured out cold nuclear fusion was still a very hot topic.

It was still early in the evening when he finished his lecture at Caltech, a few students stayed behind to ask him questions or just talk for a bit, Tony had become sort of a celebrity for nerds, and he didn’t mind staying a little late talking to those starry-eyed kids, so it was already dark out when he was done. When he thought he was alone, he started gathering his things, thinking of somewhere he could eat in Pasadena before he headed back to Malibu, when he heard it. That sweet, unmistakable voice.

“That was a hell of a lecture.” Tony turned around slowly, almost afraid to be wrong, but there was no way he’d be. Peter was there, staring back at him, standing by the door with his arms crossed over his chest and a slight blush on his cheeks. “Hey. Long time, no see.”

“You ran away from me, kid.” He breathed out, letting his hands fall to his sides, even though they itched to touch, his legs were shaking with desire to run to the younger man, but he stood still, afraid that if he moved, the spell would be broken and he would realize that Peter was just an illusion.

“That’s a big ego you got there if you think I’d make such a dramatic life change just for you, old man.” He stepped into the room slowly, until he was standing right in front of Tony, close enough to touch, but neither of them did. “I’m getting my Masters here. I heard you were coming for a lecture.”

“So you came by to say hi?” Tony cocked his head to the side and Peter chuckled, nodding.

“Yes. Hi.” He perched himself on the desk Tony was using during his lecture and it was the older man’s turn to move to stand in front of him.

“Hi.” He smiled, stepping closer, paying attention to see if the young man was in any way uncomfortable by his actions, but he didn’t even flinch.

“So, I heard you ditched Norman.” He crossed his arms over his chest again, a small smile on his lips.

“I believe my exact words were ‘fuck you’, actually.” That made Peter laugh, throwing his head back and exposing his long throat. “I missed you kid.”

“Couldn’t find an intern to make you coffee and fawn over you while you were at Oscorps?” He jabbed a finger in his chest and Tony caught it in his hand.

“Couldn’t find you. Anywhere. And I looked.” He confessed, not letting go of his hand, not looking away from his eyes. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you and all the things I didn’t say.”

“Such as?” Peter asked coyly, biting his lower lip as he looked at Tony from under his eyelashes.

“I’ll miss you. Don’t go. Give me a chance. I’ll make this work. I’m in love with you. Things like that, you know.” He didn’t care that he was putting his heart on the line, he couldn’t choke on those words anymore, and if that was the last chance he ever got to say them, at least he could sleep peacefully at night. Peter blushed deeply, lips parted in shock, but then his face stretched in a slow, lazy smile, eyes focused on Tony’s.

“Can I buy you coffee?” He asked quietly, blinking slowly, and the older man shrugged, pretending to consider it.

“Depends. Can I buy you dinner? And don’t you dare ask if I can afford it.” He closed the distance between them as Peter laughed out loud, head thrown back in delight.

“I was just gonna say yes,” he promised, as he placed his hands on Tony’s shoulders, allowing him to come stand in between his legs. “Which is something I regretted not saying.” He confessed. “So, coffee first?”

“Yeah, coffee first.” Tony leaned down to kiss his lips, and they tasted so familiar, so right, and he knew it was crazy, because they shouldn’t, they were together for such a short time and Tony wasn’t a fucking teenager, he was a grown man, and he didn’t know how in the fuck he fell in love so hard and so fast, but he did. “It’s so good to see you.” He stole yet another kiss from him and felt the younger man’s lips stretching in a smile under his. Suddenly, he was reminded of a conversation they’d had over a year earlier. “So, do you think this is the happy ending scene in our movie or what?” He asked a beaming Peter, who pretended to examine his face carefully, before answering with a grin.

“I guess we’ll see.”

#starker #ironspider #peter parker x tony stark #sugar baby au

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