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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

The Summer Before College | Marcus Moreno x reader

summary: just because you got some good scholarships doesn't mean you couldn’t use some extra cash. luckily, babysitting for a family friend has been a steady side gig for you. rule number one of babysitting: don't let your wandering eye rest for too long on the hot single dad.

word count: 4.7k

warnings: smut (dub con elements? but she’s into it lol don’t worry), age gap (he’s 40-something, reader’s 18/19), loss of virginity, pussy spanking (like, once), lots of petnames and ‘good girl’s, not a dark fic but kinda pushing it, not explicitly dad's best friend trope but it has that energy and I've decided that he is in fact friends with the reader's dad

a/n: this has basically nothing to do with the movie. he’s just a hot dad. don’t overthink it.

You knew the walk to the Moreno's by now: down two blocks from your house, take a right at San Vicente, a left on Birch, a few houses down and you're there. With your full backpack weighing on your shoulders it felt longer than usual, but you made it anyways and knocked on the front door.

"It's open!" a voice called from inside, and you turned the knob and swung the door open.

You almost regretted wearing your tiniest jean shorts, from the way Mr. Moreno did a double take when you walked in. But hey, it was the middle of summer and he would never look at you like that— you were just his daughter's babysitter, ever since you were sixteen; he was probably just surprised to see that you were wearing something other than your school uniform. Maybe some part of you wished he would look at you like that…

Missy called your name, tearing you from your thoughts, jumping up when she saw you and beaming as she rushed to give you a hug. "Hey!" you greeted in return.

“Thanks again for doing this,” Mr. Moreno nodded in your general direction, apparently already dressed for whatever it was he had to do, slipping on his jacket from where it hung on a hook by the door. "She's already had dinner, so just homework and bedtime," he explained to you as you nodded dutifully.

"Bedtime? Dad, I'm not a little kid anymore," Missy rolled her eyes.

"Okay, you're a big kid and you need to be asleep by 10. It's a school night."

She huffed but didn't protest, and you joined her on the couch because she wanted to show you some drawings she’d done earlier that day. "Bye, Dad!" Missy waved when he left, and he turned back quickly to blow a kiss in her direction.

Once you helped her finish her homework (frankly, you didn't have to do that much— she's a smart kid), the two of you enjoyed some video games before you finally got her to start getting ready for bed.

It was cute how confident Missy was that she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, only for her to be snoring within five minutes of her head hitting the pillow. You were envious of how easily she could sleep; you could kill an hour just tossing and turning and readjusting your blanket. But that wasn’t going to be your problem tonight: you weren’t going to sleep yet, until the man of the house returned, meaning all you had to do was wait.

Even in summer, having already graduated, you had plenty of work to do while you waited for Mr. Moreno. Knowing what classes you had in the fall, you bought your textbooks a bit early and planned on reading them all before the semester began. You’d already gotten through Philosophy Through the Ages and now you continued from where you left off in the middle of Introductory Physics.

What surprised you was that you had time to finish that one, too. You had anticipated that Mr. Moreno would be back before you made it to the module on fluid dynamics, but you reached the index at a quarter past midnight and he was still gone. You shrugged and picked up the next one— A Book of Luminous Things: An International Anthology of Poetry— hoping he was alright and that he’d be back soon.

You had to make yourself some coffee when 1 a.m. rolled around; tired, anxious, and distracted, you realized this was probably not the best state to be attempting to study in, but you didn’t feel like you had a choice. You didn’t want to fall asleep here, you’d promised to watch Missy and you couldn’t exactly do that while asleep… plus, he would probably be back any minute now. Sure, you’d been saying that to yourself for nearly an hour and a half now, but it was more true than ever.

It was another hour and a half, though, until his car pulled into the driveway and he pushed through the front door, prompting you to set aside your textbook.

“Good evening,” you greeted, standing up. He looked a little disheveled— but it worked for him, with that curly hair all messed up in just the right way. Maybe it was just that it was late or that it was the rare time you saw him without Missy around, but there was a darkness about him now, not sinister so much as just purely intimidating. It was like you hadn’t really taken him seriously before, and now you were appreciating that you should have.

“She’s asleep?” he assumed, glancing over to the hallway which his daughter’s bedroom was positioned at the end of before slipping his jacket off and hanging it by the door.

“It’s half past two, so… I really hope so,” you chuckled.

“Shit, is it that late already?” he groaned, glancing at his watch.

“Did you not notice?”

“I.. got carried away.”

You didn’t want to know what he’d been out so late for. It was none of your business, and you figured you were better off without any secrets to keep— you’d never been so good at keeping secrets, even your own.

“Been studying this whole time?” he noticed as he glanced at the textbooks on the couch, grinning a little. It sort of felt like he was mocking you, and it made your cheeks warm as you nodded. “What a good girl.”

That made a cold tingle crawl up your spine. Sure, other students had called you that before, and plenty of your teachers, but when he said it, like that… it felt entirely new. “I try,” you managed to respond eventually.

“You’ll do well in college, I bet.”

“You think so?” you beamed.

“Yeah,” he nodded confidently. There was something comforting about the way he smiled at you; yet, there was something predatory about the way his eyes glanced down your body and back up slowly.

As you turned and bent over to pick up your textbooks off the couch, you could tell that he had stepped closer; you could just barely hear the soft noise of his footsteps on his carpet, just barely feel the warmth of him behind you, just barely pick up on the slow, thoughtful breath he took in and out through his nose.

Standing back up slowly, you felt him do it again, right against your neck.

“M-Mr. Moreno,” you stammered, shivering when his hands gripped you on either arm. Not a tight grip, per se, but one that made his strength obvious.

“You don’t have to call me that,” he breathed. “Not when we’re alone.”

Not that you really had any plan on how to respond to that, but if you had, it would've been forgotten as his lips brushed over your neck, leaving teasing kisses in a trail over your pulse.

"Wait—" you blurted out instinctively when his hands moved to your waist, cut off by your own shaky sigh and suppressed moan. “What if she wakes up?” you questioned anxiously, glancing down the hallway and hoping you wouldn’t find Missy there, watching her dad feeling you up— and you letting him, not just that but enjoying it. Of course, the hallway was deserted, but you couldn’t feel certain it would stay that way.

“She won’t,” he assured. “Not if you can be a good girl and stay quiet.”

You made a little whimpering noise as you wondered if you could. You didn’t know how, really; you were good at being quiet when you were alone, but being alone had never felt like this. Forbidden, sexy, terrifyingly wonderful… nothing had ever felt like this.

“Do you want me to stop?” he purred, sounding like he already knew the answer.

“No,” you answered a little too quickly, “please… please don’t stop.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” he grinned. “Tell me what you do want.”

“I want…” you sighed and started over again, willing yourself to speak your thoughts aloud even though they made a pit of guilt sink in your stomach. "I want you to make me feel good."

You knew it was a sort of childish way of putting it, even before he laughed at your statement, but you weren't sure what else to say. "Yeah? I can do that," he decided. "But I can make you feel good in so many ways…" he trailed off as his right hand slipped lower and lower, finally landing between your legs as you gasped. Two fingers slid over the crotch of your shorts, and somehow he managed to bump against something that made electricity shoot up your spine and your hips buck into his touch of their own accord. You felt his smile widen as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin of your neck. "You'll have to be more specific," he finally finished. "How do you want me to make you feel good?"

"Inside me," you whined, "I want you inside me."

There was a sudden shift as it seemed like the control he had over you suddenly did not extend to himself; he growled a bit and pulled you into him, and you could feel the hard shape of his cock, through his trousers and your shorts. You could feel it pressed just above your ass and it made you squirm against his embrace. "Feel what you do to me?" he grunted, and you nodded quickly. "Good."

He spun you around quickly, pulling you close to him and burning right through you with those brown eyes darker than ever, but just as you thought he might kiss you, he spoke instead.

“My bedroom’s upstairs,” he informed you quietly.

You just nodded, following him as he pulled you along through the house, up the stairs and past the door to the master bedroom of the house.

Now that you hadn’t seen it coming, of course, was when he chose to grab you and kiss you suddenly. It was rough and passionate and nothing like you could've imagined; you were certain you'd never been kissed like this, like he needed to kiss you more than he needed anything.

Your arms slipped around his neck as he pushed you back against the wall, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist as he kicked the door shut behind the two of you. Little moans were muffled by the kiss— and it took you a minute to realize they were yours. You didn’t even sound like yourself; probably because you’d never felt like this before, and therefore had never had any reason to sound like this.

You could feel his cock between your legs, though unfortunately not in the way you wanted. Still, it drove you wild to have him so close like this, to try to imagine how the thick shape you were feeling would ever fit inside you.

His hands were so strong and thick that you worried they’d stretch out your tank top just by reaching under it— well, that is you would have worried about that if you could think about anything else but his hands reaching under your tank top. He didn’t even waste his time touching you over your bra, instead making quick work of the clasps with one hand before coming back to grope one breast in his palm, then the other. Just that was enough to make you run your fingers into his hair, but a little pinch to your raised nipple made your fists tighten and pull— you didn’t mean to, and you were just about to feel bad about it until he growled a little. It seemed like a growl of approval, considering he pinched your nipples harder to make you do it again.

“Feels good?” he asked with annoying (yet arousing) confidence.

“S-so good,” you slurred, stumbling over your words as you tried to think as clearly as possible through the thick haze of pleasure clouding your mind.

As he guided you to set your legs down and unhook your arms from around his neck, you felt a bit like a doll being posed; when he pulled your top over your head and your bra from your arms, you felt like a doll being undressed. You sort of didn’t mind it; you were happy to let him take the lead, confident he knew at least 100% more about this than you did.

He knelt down before you as he roughly pulled at your tight jean shorts, his knuckles nearly bruising your hips as he stripped you. Your underwear were not the pair you would’ve worn if you had known somebody was going to see them, just a plain dark blue color that made you feel so drab as he came face-to-face with them. He didn’t seem to mind much, grinning up at you as he slipped his fingers under them and pulled them down, too. Your face was so hot and yet your legs were breaking out into goosebumps simultaneously, and a shiver rolled up your body when he growled at the sight of your body laid bare for him. Before you could even process it, he stood up and grabbed you, tossing you back onto the bed and spreading your legs.

“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praised with a smile that made you feel a little light-headed, swirling a few fingers over your swollen button until pulling them back to spank you there— it wasn’t even that hard, but you yelped and jolted and he laughed darkly. “So sensitive,” he purred, his words walking a fine line between a compliment and a taunt, “so wet.”

Another finger slipping down to your entrance proved him right, your arousal plentiful as his touch glided through your folds.

Suddenly overcome with a moment of bravery, you sat up and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, making him smile down at you. “Let me help you,” he offered as he worked the buttons instead, freeing you to try to open his belt. “Look at you, acting so desperate…”

At this point, you weren’t even offended by that; you wanted him so bad that you didn’t have the energy to be embarrassed by it anymore.

He slipped the shirt off of his shoulders just as you finished opening the belt. He pushed your hands away, and now you could see the muscles in his arms flexing as he held you down by your wrists. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, señorita,” he purred.

Why did feeling powerless to him turn you on so much? There was no real fear to it— you knew and trusted him, you would never have developed your misguided crush on him if you didn’t— and yet there was a strong edge of uncertainty as he kissed your neck and moved down your chest, between your breasts before he stopped to kiss those, too.

“Oh god,” you breathed, and he smiled against your skin before sitting up and staring down at you. It wasn’t apparent if it was distant streetlights or the moonlight shining in through the window, but either way it cast a cold blue light into the room that reflected as a glimmer in his eyes.

“Not gonna make you wait any longer,” he promised in a low voice, reaching down to push his unbuttoned belt and trousers to his thighs— those thick, muscular thighs that made your lip catch between your teeth.

Your breath caught, too, but in your lungs this time as his cock was exposed: thick, swollen, veiny… it looked picturesque, if thoroughly intimidating. You couldn’t figure out if you wanted to move towards it or sheepishly crawl away.

"Why do you look scared?" he asked, his voice so much deeper than you remembered it from before, even if there was genuine concern somewhere in his tone.

"Is it gonna hurt?" you asked instead of answering.

"Baby…" he sighed huskily, "are you a virgin?"

You bit your lip and looked away, irritated that you hadn't managed to hide your fear enough to keep your secret.

He sighed, your silence apparently answer enough.

"Do you not want to, anymore?" you asked anxiously, afraid you had completely killed the mood. Part of the reason it'd taken you this long to lose it was specifically because people seemed intimidated by the idea of being your first.

"No, no, I— no," he asserted sternly. "I just need to… change my approach, slightly.”

He leaned down a bit, hovering over you as he trailed his hand up your leg, rubbing the inside of your thigh before finally drawing circles over your aching clit with his thumb, causing you to shiver and moan quietly.

“And, to answer your question, it won’t hurt. Not if I get you good and ready for me,” he explained, pushing just one finger into you— and even that small of a stimulation made your eyes flutter shut, with his fingers being so much thicker and stronger than yours.

The second made your fists clench around the satin-y sheets beneath you. You didn’t dare open your eyes, knowing you’d find him staring down at you and you weren’t ready for that, weren’t ready to see his reaction to your body in such a vulnerable state. You could hear his reaction, though, with the rough groans and satisfied sighs he let out as he pumped his fingers into you.

When three fingers filled you, your eyes shot open. “Fuck!” you yelped.

He smiled but slowed down, apparently taking some pity on you— but not enough to stop him from pressing down harder on your clit.

Just when you figured he’d warmed you up enough and he’d fuck you like he promised, he slid lower and the bed and bent down, adding his tongue into the mix with his fingers. It was… overwhelming, and hot, not just psychologically but literally: it was physically hot, as in temperature. How was his mouth so warm against you, and his fingers so warm inside you?

When he latched his lips around your clit and sucked on it, you saw stars. Energy gathered in your gut and burned so bright that you thought you might explode. Really, it was more like an implosion as the coil inside you snapped and your thighs accidentally clamped down on his hand. It didn’t faze him though, it didn’t even slow him down as he moaned a little against you and curled his fingers even harder. You didn’t remember reaching down to grab his head, you just felt his hair between your fingers as you pulled it roughly, gasping his name.

When he did stop, sitting up and wiping his face with the back of his hand, you just looked back up at him as you caught your breath. He laughed, and you realized you were gawking unintentionally.

“I’m guessing you’ve never come like that before?” he ventured. You didn’t know if ‘like that’ meant from oral or just so suddenly and intensely, but it was true either way so you nodded.

When he reached down to grip his cock with the same hand still wet with your slick, you held your breath without realizing it. “Please put it in me,” you whimpered.

“I will,” he assured as he guided the head of it through your slick folds, stopping to tease your clit as you jolted from the contact on the sensitive nerves. Something surreal and indescribable tingled under your skin— you could hardly believe that this was happening, let alone with him, with Mr. Moreno. Or, Marcus. You were on a first-name basis by now, surely.

He pushed forward in one smooth, slow stroke until he was all the way inside you, his body filling yours to the brim as you quivered from the sensation of being stretched so wide.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked roughly.

“...almost,” you answered hesitantly, unsure how to describe the sensations you were feeling; not exactly pain, but not not pain. The favorite pain you’d ever felt in your life, easily.

He chuckled as he gripped your hips a little tighter. "I'm gonna move now," he announced. You nodded your approval, sighing shakily as he pulled his hips back and you felt the intoxicating friction of his cock against your walls.

"Ffffuck," you whimpered, gasping when he slammed his hips forward again. Your eyes rolled back in your head when he pushed as deep into you as he could with each thrust, still measured but not exactly gentle as he set a pace faster than you’d prepared for. But it was good, god it was so fucking good you weren’t sure what to do with yourself. "Marcus," you sighed, barely recognizing your own voice when it was heavy with need and arousal like this.

He grinned when he heard his name cross your lips, grinding his hips against yours for emphasis until you were forced to arch your back. "You like it rough, don't ya, honey?"

You nodded, confident that you liked it however he was doing it.

"Fuck, I knew it. Knew as soon as I saw you."

Before you could wonder what he meant by that, he was already moving fast enough to make your head spin. You had never had anything so deep inside you before, and when he pushed your legs up and back against your chest, you had no choice but to scream with pleasure.

Just before you reached the peak of it though, his hand clamped down over your mouth to muffle the sound. "Gotta be quiet," he reminded you through his teeth before relaxing his hand a bit so you could still be heard somewhat

"I can't," you whined, "Marcus, please, I can't stay quiet—"

"You have to."

"Feels too good," you whimpered your excuse. "F-fuck, slow down, I won't be able to stop it—"

He cut you off with a kiss, slow yet dominating, and your moans were muffled by his lips. You still sounded so loud in your own head, but at least your cries weren't echoing against the walls of his room anymore.

What was echoing were the sounds of skin slapping on skin as he pounded into you, roughly finding every delicate spot within you and making the backs of your thighs sore as his hips slammed into them. It forced your hands to grip at his muscular shoulders and your nails to dig into the skin there. You hoped there would be little half-moon shaped marks there tomorrow, maybe one would even scar so he'd have your mark on his body forever; after all, he'd carved a permanent space in your body by taking your virginity. Even if you couldn't dream of being as special to him as he was to you, you liked the idea of giving him something that he couldn't give back.

That energy was building again, different from before but no less powerful and persistent. "I'm gonna— fuck, I'm gonna come, I'm so close," you whispered.

“Yeah? Go ahead," he encouraged. "I wanna see you fall apart just for me, wanna feel you come around my cock."

You hadn't realized he'd be able to feel it, and the idea of that was so filthily beautiful that it pushed you over the edge, your whole body tensing up in sudden waves of pleasure so intense that it made your eyes water.

Through the static filling your ears, you heard his low, husky voice encouraging you: "Good girl, just like that, don't fucking stop."

You'd always been powerless to his voice, but this was another level. It was as if your body understood and met his demands, continuing to ride the peak of your sensation so long as he growled in your ear just right.

It was much too tender, the way he brushed the stray hair away from your face, the way he kissed your slack mouth again, the way he held you tighter and mumbled more praises to you. It was more romantic than it had any right to be, and you had to bite back the words of affection threatening to spill out of your mouth.

I love you, you wanted to tell him, I've loved you for years, but it was beyond inappropriate. You didn't want to play the role of the innocent virgin who thinks sex means being in love and lets herself catch feelings for the older man who is just taking what he wants and, at best, doing her a favor so she doesn't have to go off to college and get her cherry popped there. Maybe that was accurate, but that wasn't who you wanted to be.

You wanted to be sexy, and mature, and in control. You wanted to play a new rule, one that still felt foreign and yet closer than ever. So you wrapped your legs around his hips and held him deeper in you, smiling with a little growl of your own.

"I want you to come inside me," you informed him with a purr, loving the little moment of shock that passed over his face before he groaned, fucking you a little faster and more erratically.

"Fuck, really?" he rasped.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes and nodded.

"You're on the pill?"

Another nod, this one finished off with a shiver as you wondered how much more of this your body could take.

He grinned and picked up the pace again, his moans getting a little louder with each movement. "Fuck, I'm gonna come— gonna fill up your tight little pussy, is that what you want?"

You nodded feverishly, already close to the edge again as you imagined what it would be like to have his come in you for the rest of the night. Was he going to make you walk home with it leaking out from between your legs? Why did that idea make your inner muscles involuntarily tighten around him?

With a string of curses and a grip on your thigh tight enough to bruise, he reached his own peak and you felt his cock flex and pulse inside you, a new warmth filling your gut from the inside out.

It's hard to say how long the two of you stayed like that, since you were busy basking in the afterglow (and, less enjoyably, worrying about the consequences that tomorrow morning would bring).

When he pulled out and collapsed beside you, you wondered if you should get up and get dressed.

"Stay here tonight," he instructed you, as if somehow a response to your internal thought. "Your folks won't freak out if you're out all night, right?"

"I'll just tell them I slept over at your place," you shrugged. With a confused look from him, you clarified: "on the couch."

"Right," he nodded as he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you closer, letting you rest your head in the crook of his neck. In this way and in so many others, it was how you expected (and hoped) losing your virginity would go: someone you trust and who cares about you, with enough attention on you that you didn't feel much pain, plus cuddling afterwards. But, in even more ways, it was unlike what you'd ever thought possible: it felt incredible and you came so hard that your ears were still kind of ringing, you didn't use a condom or even think to mention it, and finally— and most absurdly— it was with Marcus fucking Moreno.

Frankly, considering his performance earlier, "fucking" very well could be his middle name.

"You should sit for me again next week," he suggested quietly.

"Do you have somewhere to go?"

"No," he grinned, "but I'll be sure to come back real late, after she's gone to bed, so I can show you all the other ways I can make you feel good."

"H-how many ways are there?!"

He just laughed, pulling you closer and placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Oh, sweetheart… so smart, but so innocent. We can fix that.”

You weren’t sure entirely which of those two things he intended on fixing.

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x y/n #pedro pascal x reader

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claroso · 3 years

Text

Like Real People Do

Zevran and Clara Amell have been dancing around the unnamed tension between them for months now. Finally out from underneath the thumbs of their respective jailers, they appreciate being able to take their time and enjoy the dance.

I’m referencing the Correspondence Interruptus quest in DA:O btw

Zevran lunged forwards, raking his daggers across the hurlock's side as he ducked under its swing. He felt leather armor and flesh give under his blades like butter. The monster screamed.

He danced back from the hurlock's next swipe, the rusty mace slamming into the ground. He hefted his dagger and threw it. The metal flashed as it spun through the air and lodged in its leg. Were it human, that would be a killing blow. But for a darkspawn? The thing simply growled, picked up its mace, and limped towards him.

The hair on his arms suddenly stood on end. That was the only warning he needed--he threw himself back a split second before a fireball crashed into his enemy. It screamed again, contorting in agony as it burned.

Then the carved end of a staff smashed into its head. The hurlock collapsed. Behind it, Clara Amell snarled and brought her staff down again. Its decaying skull split like a pumpkin, blood splattering across her pale face.

Zevran's heart skipped a beat.

The fire guttered out as the mage straightened, her eyes sweeping across the battlefield. A handful of steps away, Wynne and Sten stood at the ready, their weapons raised.

"We're clear!" Clara called after a moment.

They all relaxed.

Zevran grinned. Working with a mage was a rare treat with the Crows, but being able to work with a mage who could predict darkspawn attacks? Amazing. They didn't have to be on edge every second of the day. And travel went so much faster without checking for ambushes around every corner. He knew he was getting spoiled traveling with Wardens, but he was determined to enjoy it while he could.

Of course, it didn't help with bandits or anything of the non-tainted variety, but that became rarer and rarer as the stories of the last two Grey Wardens spread.

Clara barked out orders--to search the bodies, the cabin nearby--and they wordlessly complied. Hardly anything was left intact after a darkspawn attack, and this one was no exception. The house was barely standing and the animals had run off long before they arrived. And the remains of three farmers were strewn around the clearing.

Unfortunately familiar with the sight, he began searching the poor souls' home. Even with such carnage, he enjoyed working with the Wardens far more than the Crows. Clara at least listened to him. He didn't with her disagree often, but she didn't threaten bodily harm when he did.

Actually, now that he thought about it, threats of bodily harm were surprisingly rare with his new group. Except Morrigan, but the lovely witch usually kept it limited to Alistair.

And he kept a substantial cut of the loot, he thought as he rummaged through a chest at the back of the cabin. He slipped the few coins into his belt. The dirty leathers he tossed. That left a single leaf of parchment at the bottom of the chest. He broke the seal with his thumb and opened it, a smile spreading across his face.

"Zev!" Clara called. "We're leaving!"

He jumped up and rushed back to the group. Wynne dabbed at the bloodstains on her robe and Sten's face, as always, was stoically impatient. The Warden, wearing a mismatched set of armor over her Circle robes, sported her usual scowl. As he grabbed her hand and swept into an overdramatic bow, her expression shifted to confusion.

"My dear Warden." He purred, holding the letter up with a flourish. "I believe I've just won the bet."

She scoffed. "No chance in the Void. Let me see that."

"I apologize, but as I've said before," he dodged her outstretched hand and winked. "Poetry simply must be read aloud."

Sten grunted, somehow putting an entire lecture's worth of disgust into the sound, before turning on his heel and marching off.

"I rather agree with our taciturn friend. I'll see you back in town." Wynne said, starting down the trail back to Redcliffe.

"There's no way that's worse than the letter I found last week." Despite their companions' lack of enthusiasm, Clara had the slightest curve of a smile. Practically jumping up and down with excitement for her, really.

"Shall I?" Zevran said, raising an eyebrow.

She waved toward the path. "Walk while you talk, Brother Genitivi."

" 'My dearest Virginia Trueroyal,' " He said in a deep Fereldan accent.

"That's awful."

"Hush now. The audience doesn't speak. 'My dearest Virginia Trueroyal,' " He scoffed. "That can not be a real name."

She chuckled. "Get on with it."

" 'Regarding: Bodice ripped.' Oh, how scandalous!" He spun around, walking backward ahead of the Warden so he could wiggle his eyebrows at her. " 'Enclosed are seven silver and my most heartfelt apologies for said bodice.' "

Clara suddenly grabbed the front of his armor and pulled him roughly to the side, narrowly missing a tree.

He didn't stop. " 'I would blame the cold ocean spray, the loss of my favorite shirt, the bucking of the stallion,' " He winked, and she rolled her eyes. " 'or perhaps the strain of maintaining all such elements while sitting for a portrait, but I was certainly not myself. I hope you will forgive me and not take it upon yourself to find your own determined way in this world.' "

" 'Yours, Ser Rival Grouseman' " He finished with a flourish.

"That was terrible." Clara frowned.

"Exactly!" He exclaimed, delighted. "I will accept payment in silver or fine leather goods, mi estrella!"

"No, that's actually, really terrible. It's not even dirty!"

Zevran gasped. "How can you say that? The 'bucking of this stallion', the 'cold ocean spray' ripped this poor woman's bodice open!"

"It's too subtle." She argued. "I don't want flowery details and sighs in the moonlight. If you're going to talk dirty, at least give it to me straight."

"Well, if you insist."

In a very appropriate display of maturity, she stuck her tongue out at him.

"No matter." He said as they stepped into Redcliffe village. "Leliana can break our tie."

A few minutes later, they stepped into the tavern. Wynne sat at a table in the corner with a tome and a mug of ale in front of her. Sten was nowhere to be seen.

After dealing with the blood mage and possession of Connor at Redcliffe Castle, Clara had refused to stay when Teagan offered. Instead, they had found rooms in the village. Since they'd cleared the dead from the town and broke the siege, they'd been welcomed back with open arms. Any unoccupied room was free for their use. Sten had taken up in a hut on the edge of town. The mages settled in an empty house so they could practice without disturbing anyone. The rest stayed in the rooms above the tavern.

They'd only been there a week, but it was a much-needed break from their constant travel. They still hunted down pockets of darkspawn and bandits to ensure the town was safe, but they also slept in real beds and ate at the tavern every night. Leliana even volunteered at the local Chantry, dividing resources and praying with the town.

Speaking of their lively bard, Zevran spotted her rushing towards them with Barkspawn at her heels.

"You're back!" She exclaimed. "How did it go?"

"I think all the bandits ran off." Clara pulled down her hood and ruffled her sweaty blonde hair. Half of it stuck straight up, making the fierce warrior look more like the head of a broom. "Didn't see anything human all day."

"And the darkspawn?"

"Not gone, but it is a blight." She shrugged. "I think we'll leave the day after next. The guard should be able to handle what's left."

"More importantly," Zevran said, "I found the winning letter!"

Leliana grinned. "I'll get the drinks!"

After drinks were delivered and they'd settled at a table, Barkspawn curled over Clara's feet, Zevran read the letter again, with plenty of flourishes and suggestive looks. The redhead giggled through the entire thing.

When he finished, Clara shook her head. "Not a chance, Zev. Mine's better."

"I don't know." Leliana said. "There is a certain poetry in it."

"What? Why are you on his side?"

She shrugged. "None of the letters I found can compare. I'm not wasting time betting on a horse that can't win."

"Fine." Clara huffed. "Then you're the deciding vote. Pick one."

Delicately tapping her chin, the bard paused, obviously deep in thought.

"You can't be serious, Leli." Clara demanded, leaning over the table. "Mine's better! Just pick mine!"

He chuckled, admiring her fierce frown. So competitive!

Leliana smiled sweetly. "It's only that poetry is best when read aloud. Zevran really made the words come alive, don't you think?"

She fluttered her eyelashes as the Warden's mouth dropped open. Clara had staunchly avoided reading aloud any of the letters they found.

"Yes," he purred, "won't you indulge us, Warden?"

"I--you can't--fine!" She snatched her bag from under the table and rooted through it, muttering under her breath.

She slapped the parchment to the tabletop. " 'Miss Ambrose'." She started, a determined set to her shoulders.

" 'A long, slow grind, the motion careful, aided by generous application of oils. Size is no concern with my equipment, and I am always mindful when stuffing, not risking a--risking--" Clara stuttered, her voice climbing higher with each word. "--a burst before every order is fulfilled.' "

Leliana giggled and he pressed a fist against his mouth.

" 'My meat--" She winced, her pale skin red as a tomato. "--goes hand in hand with satisfaction.' "

He laughed. She fought down a smile and took a deep breath.

" 'Your interest astounds, but I would not question a customer's choice in nighttime reading." She said quickly, her voice strangled. "Three pound sausage again next week? No cheek, of course.' "

She collapsed against the table, arms over her head, shoulders twitching, as Leliana and Zevran howled with laughter. Barkspawn joined in with an actual howl.

"Maker's breath," Leliana sighed. She wiped her eyes. "That was marvelous, my friend. You win."

Clara looked up, hiccupping with laughter, and tried her best to glare. "You're all terrible people."

"What a performance!" Zevran cheered and clapped. "More than worth the five silver."

She rolled her eyes, but accepted their coin without further grumbling.

"And with that, I must be off." Leliana said, standing up. "I promised I would be up early to repair a barn. Zev?"

He sighed. "Yes, I suppose. As long as you buy the drinks again tomorrow."

"Helping the locals now?" Clara asked, refilling her cup.

"I might as well." He shrugged, leaning back in his chair and waving off Leliana. "Idle hands and all that, you know."

She frowned. "Are you tired of patrolling already?"

"Oh, there is no need to pout, my Warden." He said with a wink. "You know I only have eyes for you."

She hid a smile behind her cup of wine. Zevran grinned back, putting his feet up in Leliana's empty chair. They settled into a comfortable silence, simply observing each other.

He and the Warden had been dancing around each other for the past month. They each knew what it was and where it was going--into bed, most likely, though he had no qualms about a tent or wall if that's where the moment led them. But this, the dance, was equally enjoyable. Flirting, teasing, finding out how to make her smile or blush down past the neckline of her robes.

And learning how she flirted back. That's how he knew that arguing and knocking her shoulder against his was practically a wink and a loosened bodice for Clara.

Suddenly, her mouth dropped into a true pout, eyes shifting behind him. He turned to see Alistair move quickly across the room and out the front door with his head down.

He frowned. Something had happened between their stalwart Grey Wardens. For the past week, Alistair and Clara had barely even acknowledged each other. The playful teasing was replaced by awkward silences and short, to-the-point conversations. And occasionally, he caught her staring at him like she did now. Hurt danced across her expression with abandon.

Then she scowled. In one smooth motion, she picked up her cup and drained it.

Zevran blinked. Slowly, he pushed his whiskey over to her.

She drank that just as quickly, though with a lot more coughing after. Barkspawn whined and pushed his head into her lap.

Well. This was worse than he thought.

"Mi estrella." He said, leaning forward with a smirk.

She wiped her mouth with her sleeve. "What?"

"You've drunk far more than your usual fare." He nodded to the empty cups. "Sleep here tonight, in one of the empty rooms upstairs."

"That's...probably a good idea." Clara stood with a groan and tucked her staff under her arm.

"I shall escort you."

"What possible ulterior motive could you have, I wonder?" She mused as they started up the steps.

"Believe me, I am not a subtle man." He said. "When I have a motive, you will know."

They ducked into the room at the top of the stairs. As she shucked off her armor and robes, he wandered the edges of the small room, faking interest in its small baubles and plain furniture.

"If I may pry, my Warden..."

She glanced at him, suddenly tired and thinner than she had any right to be, clad only in a thin sleeveless shirt and trousers.

"You're asking permission? That's new." She noted dryly.

"Hm. I noticed some tension between you and your fellow Grey Warden recently."

Her shoulders tensed. She winced at the movement, hand going to her right shoulder.

He padded over to the bed and sat, gesturing her towards the middle. "Here, sit."

She shifted onto the bed.

He began to knead her broad shoulders. She tensed at first, either at the new intimacy or his cold fingers. Only when she relaxed under his hands did he speak again.

"Did you disagree on how Connor was dealt with?" A feint.

"No."

"On our next journey?" Zevran found knot after knot in her muscles, like a string of pearls underneath her skin. He started to doubt this plan--having this conversation and taking care of her horribly abused muscles demanded his full attention and right now he wasn't sure which was more important.

"No," she sighed, "we both think Orzammar is the best move."

"Then he finally confessed his affections?"

Clara's head snapped around to meet his gaze.

He smiled slightly. Braska, he hadn't meant to say it quite like that. But she was a blunt woman, she might prefer a blunt approach.

"Maker," She twisted away from his hands, "I hoped it wouldn't be obvious."

"It's not your fault. Alistair is rather blatant about his feelings, though." He chuckled. That was a bit of a white lie. They were both obvious about their falling out, but a tiny fib never hurt anyone. "The poor boy has been mooning over you for a few months now."

"I must have done something to lead him on..." She said with a deep frown. "I'm a terrible friend."

He shrugged. "Well, I can't comment on that last bit, not having much experience in the area. Flirting, though, I am quite skilled in. And its all about intention."

When she didn't respond, he placed a hand on her arm, drawing her attention up to him.

"Clara, you can't lead someone on unless you mean to."

She smiled weakly.

"A massage, for example." He continued. "This could be just a friendly massage, but I hope you know enough of my intentions to tell otherwise."

She blushed, but reached up and squeezed the hand on her arm nonetheless. He pushed past the excitement buzzing in his chest. Despite knowing about their mutual interest, the acknowledgement of it thrilled him.

"Good. It's not your fault, or Alistair's, for that matter. It was just... a miscommunication."

"You make it sound so simple." Clara sighed.

"Only because it is." He said. "Give it some time and you'll both be able to look back at it with laughter."

She scrunched her nose. "Maker, you sound like an old man."

"A beauty such as yours, my lady, inspires the wisdom of ages."

She groaned and fell back against the bed dramatically. "Not more poetry!"

"Your storm-grey eyes cut my chest to ribbons," Zevran said, leaning on one hand to smile down at her. She rolled her eyes. "such do I ache for you."

"Your laugh soothes my pain and heals me." His fingers dug into her sides and she squealed as he tickled her.

Loud and unrestrained, the laughter transformed her. Her face, so often grim and lined with worry, turned bright and open. A smile split her face nearly in half.

Zevran admired the sight, his mission tonight accomplished, when she suddenly grabbed his wrists tightly. She shoved him, rolling them over and pinning his wrists above his head.

"Ha!" She crowed, victorious and beautiful, only inches above him. His heart stuttered. "That's--"

He leaned up, closing the space between them, to meet her lips. He felt, more than heard, her gasp. A breathless moment passed before she returned the kiss with a sigh.

She pressed down more firmly into him. Her hands released his and snaked down to cradle his face. Warmth trailed behind her touch, tracing patterns across his cheeks, down his neck.

He tilted his head, slanting his mouth open in invitation as he wrapped his arms around her. She ran her tongue teasingly against his bottom lip. Then, she bit down, slowly, deliberately.

He groaned as she pulled away, opening his eyes to see Clara, flushed and grinning down at him

"Your lips enthrall me." He murmured.

She chucked, brushing a kiss over the corner of his mouth. "You're absolutely terrible."

"I believe that speaks more to your taste in men than my taste in poetry, mi estrella."

"Are you ever going to tell me what that means?"

"I've no plan to."

Clara kissed him again. Her hands were buried in his hair now, grasping and pulling for new angles, as she hummed deep in her throat. And he let himself drown in her warmth, just for a while.

Sometime later, after her hand was underneath his shirt and his was gripping her thigh, Zevran pulled back.

He arched an eyebrow. "This was not the intention in my suggestion, Warden."

"So?" She grinned, her eyes dark and wild.

"So, you were close to collapse only five minutes ago." He brushed his fingers against her lips, following the curve of her smile. "And, if I have my way, this will be quite acrobatic. You'll want to be awake for it."

Truthfully, he was enjoying the chase far too much to jump into bed right now. He'd never had the luxury of time before--the lovers he had taken in the past were either jobs or other Crows. Both were always rushed, fumbling selfishly for whatever pleasure they could take before moving onto the next. This, her, would be the first entirely of his own choice, free from his masters. If he wanted to savor it, he damn well would.

Also, he made a point not to fall into bed with someone distracted by another man. Even if it wasn't 'like that'.

He'd had precious few friends in his life and never any friend as close as Clara and Alistair were. He wouldn't be responsible for the end of their friendship. After they mended their ways, then he could move forward.

Zevran shifted out from under her and brushed a kiss against her cheek. She fell back on the bed and yawned widely.

"Rather proving my point, Warden."

"Fine. It's your loss, really." Clara said, smiling as she closed her eyes and curled around a pillow. "I'm an animal in bed."

"I've no doubt." He muttered, hardly able to contain his own smile as he left.

#dao #da:o #dragon age #dragon age: origins #origins #ZevWarden #Zevran x Warden #Zevran x Amell]#zevran arainai #Zevran x female Amell #Zevran x female Warden #female amell #female warden #Clara Amell #ZevWarden fic #dragon age fanfic #fuck i already posted this under the wrong blog #whatever :(

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funkymeihem-fiction · 7 years

Text

A Perfect Valentines Day for Some Meihem

(I struggled to get all this done today while moving, so I’m sorry if it seems a little rushed! Happy Valentines!)

***

Roadhog was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet in the junkers’ crowded little bathroom, reading another of his old paperback novels. His drooping gaze scanned it as hurriedly as he could, knowing full well that this was likely the only chance to get to read this particular novel before it was ruined. The book was already burnt on the edges and starting to bend and break from the elements, and now it was discentigrating before his very eyes, spattered with water and wilting from steam. As another splash arced his way, he lifted the book up towards the ceiling and tried to keep reading.

“She’s gonna love this, Roadie! A clean, fresh bloke for Valentines Day! You know how many kisses I’m gonna get today? Yeah, she won’t be able to resist all them primal lady urges when she sees all this!” Junkrat sat on his plastic stool in the middle of the shower, bombarding himself with scalding water as he leaned to fill his up his purloined tupperware container and dumped it over his head. He was looking a bit more like a drowned rat than a junk rat, wild swathes of blond hair now sopping wet and drooping all over his head, stuck in a rather grotesque manner across his eyes and face. He was hunched over like a gargoyle on his chair, using his remaining limbs to awkwardly maneuver himself as the water flowing down his body came away black and gray, swirling down a drain that was already bubbling and threatening to clog. Again.

“She probably won’t recognize you,” Hog grunted, lifting his book again as Junkrat filled up his container and missed as he tried to douse himself.

“That’s cause I’m a new man! This is gonna blrlrb-” He doubled over in a fit of coughing as he threw water directly into his own face whilst trying to talk, sputtering loudly before continuing on. “This is gonna be perfect, a real gentleman’s-type holiday. It’s gotta be classy. Okay, hand me all them bottles. We’re gonna turn this Junkrat into a Hunkrat. Okay, how do I… Oi, Roadie, what’s the difference between shampoo and conditioner?”

Hog shrugged.

“Okay, guess I better use both. Oi, Roadie, there’s a whole bunch of them. Where’d you even get all these? Okay, we got melon, we got lavender, coconut, tea tree, dandruff, pear…ooo, this one says it’s ‘musky and sensual’, that definitely describes me. Lots of ‘em smell good though. I dunno, what do you think she’d like most?”

Hog shrugged.

“Yeah, you’re right, better use ‘em all just in case.” He began emptying out the containers onto his head, coating what was left of his hair with multi-colored pools of pearly goop before he began rubbing furiously with his one hand, mixing and lathering until nearly his entire head was lost in a sphere of foam. “I’ve been doing me research, seeing what the sheilas love most. It don’t seem that hard; jewels, candy, flowers, little stuffed thingies…so I get Mei all of that, we get real romantic, and then we’re in for a real ripper of a night, ya know? Oi, you got time to help me nip down to that jewelry place on the mainland? I think they got necklaces and diamonds and whatnot there, we can knock it down easy.”

Hog turned a wary eye to meet his employer’s gaze- or what he guessed was his gaze, his whole head was nothing but a mess of white bubbles- and frowned. “She doesn’t wear diamonds and won’t like you stealing them even if she did.”

“Pffft!” Bits of foam went flying away from his lips. “Okay, yeah, no diamonds. Chocolates though! Like the good kind that are worth more than the jewelry, with those little swirly drizzles on them? Get a big heart full of those. Jellybeans! Who doesn’t like jellybeans? Gotta get some of them. I hear they make lady’s underwear but you can eat it, you think that’s true?” He chortled to himself at the thought. “Just saying, I’d eat the panties right offa her, hehehe. And I’ve seen folks what buy a bunch of those little candy hearts with words and letters on ‘em, can spread like a romantic message out on her bed. Like ‘Dear Mei, I love you lots, can’t wait to root you harder than a-”

“No. Also, she doesn’t eat a lot of candy. You do.”

Junkrat made a little noise of irritation as he continued to massage the unholy mess of shampoo around his head. “Arroight, you got me there. Guess I probably would eat all the jellybeans and panties by myself. What about a stuffed thingy? You and her both like them cutesy shits. Didn’t you just get some kind of new pinkie Pachimari thing last time we were out and about? How about I give that-”

Roadhog reached up one massive arm and grasped the head of the shower, twisting it up and blasting the smaller man in the face with water.

“WHARRGARBL!” Junkrat coughed, waving both hands and shielding his face as the bubbles over his head were washed away in the deluge.

“Don’t touch my things,” the larger junker rumbled dangerously, and he meant it.

Junkrat finally bowed his head against the onslaught, and began sullenly rinsing his head free of soap once more, blowing water out of his nose and sniffling dramatically. “Just fuck my shit right up, Roadie, blimey. Howsabout flowers? You gonna shit all over flowers too? Ain’t flowers too basic?”

Hog thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. “No. For a first Valentines Day that should be good. Flowers are good.”

Junkrat’s grin returned. “You think? I mean, I know she likes pretty things, and all lady-types like flowers, right? I mean they smell real good, almost as good as me! I smell like a florist shop fucked a perfumery and I’m the baby! Okay, I think we’re done, help me up out of here.”

Roadhog just nodded without really listening, as he often did when Junkrat started talking strangely, which was nearly all the time. Holding out one enormous hand, he let the sopping wet smaller man latch onto it, the high-strung junker grasping onto it with his remaining hand and curling what remained of his other arm around it. He managed to stand, but his foot slipped wildly until he snapped aloud, “Oi, bathtub, give me some bumpies.” There was a long pause as Athena attempted to translate his command into one that made sense, before the bottom of the tub basin shifted tactile structure, ridged bumps rising into a more easily-gripped texture. With that and Roadhog’s assistance, he managed to struggle out the side of the tub.

Roadhog tossed him a towel and set his battered paperback aside, starting to disrobe for his turn at the shower. Others in Overwatch might have thought that bathing together was a strange behavior, but the junkers came from a world of scarce water and nonexistent privacy. Seeing nakedness was hardly noteworthy. Junkrat didn’t bother to cover himself as he dried off, smoothing back his dripping hair. “So you seeing anyone for the holiday? Gonna have a romantic night of your own?”

The elder junker awkwardly turned sideways to sidle into the tub before making a lewd gesture with one hand, which sent his younger partner into another fit of giggles.

“Rosie Palm again! You two’ve been together for too many years, mate, ain’t it time to branch out? Give someone else a go?”

“She hasn’t let me down yet,” Hog deadpanned, fumbling with the shower controls.

“Well, you enjoy your self-handy. I’m gonna go romance the fuck out of the most a-mei-zing lady in the world!” Junkrat declared with no small amount of confidence, pulling the straps of his leg prosthetic tight around his thigh before hobbling back into the room to find his shorts. “Hope I ain’t forgetting anything…”

“Brush your teeth,” Hog’s voice echoed after him.

“Already did, mate!”

“All of them.”

“Er…”

Junkrat turned around and headed back into the bathroom.

***

Mei was standing in front of her mirror, holding up two dresses to her chest over and over again. “Blue or pink? I know pink is more Valentines-y, but I just bought the blue one and I got a nice shawl and tights to go with it, but then the pink one has little cute polka-dots and I love polka-dots! But then again, the blue one-”

“Is just going to get dirt and soot on it,” Zarya grumbled, rummaging through her box of nail polish. “I would not wear anything nice around him. Choose a color, I have blues and pinks to match. You are trying to impress the rat? What does he like?”

“You know how someone will say ‘You look good in anything’?”

“Da?”

“He actually means it. I really could wear anything around him, but I still want to look nice! It’s a special day.”

“I do not trust that skinny man. Or the pig man.” Zarya frowned, slamming one fist into her palm. “If the rat tries anything…”

Mei coughed gently. “Well actually, of all days, I kind of hope today is the day he does try something…Well! It’s Valentines Day! I mean, it’s a good day for it!” She quailed slightly at the look she received, cheeks turning pink.

“We did not celebrate this Valentines Day in Russia.”

“We didn’t celebrate it in Xi’an either,” Mei admitted. “But we sometimes used to exchange little cards and candies at some of the eco-stations I was at. I’m willing to bet the junkers didn’t celebrate Valentines Day back in the wasteland either but Jamison seems really excited about it. It’s a harmless little holiday about chocolates and poetry and love, I think it’s nice.”

“Hmph.”

“You might try talking to them a little more, you know? I won’t say they’re not a handful, but they can be surprising in ways you don’t think of. Give them a chance?”

“I make no promise. Also, blue dress. You always look good in blue. Blue dress and cute little shawl.” She held up one of her bottles of blue polish and shook it back and forth. “Put it on, I will do nails for you. Do you have special plans? It seems everyone is going out tonight.”

“Mm, yes! I am going to bake a lamington cake to surprise him. It’s a type of cake back in Australia, he was telling me about how much he loved them and missed them back when…well, back when he was robbing places in Adelaide…” She coughed and continued on as if Zarya was not giving her an extremely unimpressed look. “But that’s in the past! So! I’m baking a lamington cake for him, and I’ve got coconut and cream for it, and then I’ll let it set for a few hours while we go out. I’ve got reservations at a really nice Korean barbecue with both meat and vegetarian options, then we’re going to go to a really nice boba tea place I’ve heard about, then a romantic walk on the beach, and then we can come back here and…you know…hang out?…” Another awkward cough.

“Hmph.”

“I’ll save you a slice, if he doesn’t try to eat all of it. What are your plans for tonight? Anyone special you have your eye on?”

“Free weights and leg day. Maybe I punch training bots if I feel frisky?” Zarya smirked down at her.

Mei wrinkled her nose, as it did not particularly sound like a romantic evening to her, but didn’t challenge her friend. She held up the blue dress one more time, nodded, then set it aside for later in the evening, flouncing back towards her bed where Zarya was already preparing undercoats and topcoat varnishes and color layers and other things Mei never usually made much time for but always admired. She settled onto her knees, holding out a hand while the larger woman took it with her always surprisingly delicate touch, starting to file and round the edges of her nails, silent as she focused on her work.

“I…hope things work with you and the rat. If it makes you happy,” Zarya begrudgingly remarked out of nowhere several minutes later as she was putting another layer of blue onto Mei’s nails. “It is hard to find anything happy these days.”

Mei smiled back at her. “It really means a lot that you would say that. And don’t worry, I’m sure we’re all going to find something happy, especially you. You never know when you might find it. Maybe tonight, even!”

“Hmph.”

***

Junkrat had hitched a ride to the mainland with Ana and Reinhardt, and had tried to ignore their syrupy little giggles and glances at one another the entire way there. He hadn’t been entirely successful, and when Reinhardt leaned over to nuzzle Ana’s cheek with his beard and was making noises that were entirely too cutesy for his liking, Junkrat couldn’t help himself from pulling a face and sticking out his tongue with a disgusted “Blech.”

Romance was so much better when he was the one partaking in it.

He bailed out as soon as he was able, nearly tumbling out of the backseat as he stuck his hands in his pockets and shuffled towards the nearest florist shop, a vintage vine-covered brick building with a cheery display of mannequins holding bouquets of roses and chocolate baskets. That looked promising, so he ducked inside. The shop was bustling about with other last-minute Valentines shoppers all huddled around the roses, though several of them glanced up, looked rather uncomfortable, and scooted out past him towards the door.

The shop owner, a short fat man in a green apron, seemed to notice the sudden exodus, and quickly pinpointed the source as being the impossibly tall lanky young man with a mechanical arm and a janky peg leg, half-naked save for a pair of patched shorts and a skull tattoo, and missing most of his hair. Smiling nervously, the little shopkeep approached the strange creature and gestured to the flowers around him politely. “Ah, good day sir, are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Yeah mate, what flowers you got?”

“Er…Well, this is a flower shop. We have all kinds of flowers here. I’m assuming you’re looking for a last minute bouquet for someone special?”

“Yeah! Yeah, she’s the specialist. So I gotta get something real perfect for her.”

The florist smiled in relief. “Well, you’ll find we only sell top-quality blooms here. May I suggest one of our rose bouquets, specially tailored to the holiday? We have white, pink, red, mixed, and even blue and purple varieties.” He gestured to the large window displays, but his smile faded when the strange young man seemed disinterested. “Or perhaps you’ve something else in mind?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s nice and all. But none of these are us. Everyone’s got roses. Gotta get something with a bit more kaboom to it, ya know?”

“…Kaboom?”

Junkrat snorted and skulked about the aisles, trailed by the concerned little man as he passed by shelves and displays full of roses, carnations, tulips, daisies, sunflowers, daffodils, gerberas, orchids, irises, lilacs; nearly every popular flower available, when he stopped at the back of the store and his eyes lit up, lifting his mechanical hand to point excitedly. “That one there! That big’un with all the colors! That’s got some kaboom!”

“The wildflower bouquet? That’s generally less Valentines, but- Okay, do you need me to wrap that up for you?”

“Sure do, mate, also can you like staple the receipt on the flowers?”

“Wait, what?”

Some minutes later, Junkrat was marching out the door with a wide grin, holding a giant bouquet of cheerful multicolored flowers in both arms, with several copies of the receipt printed out and stapled to all sides of it, signed by the shop owner and notarized by one of the nearby employees, along with a card in calligraphy script that read ‘I LOVE YOU MEI AND I PAID FOR THESE’ in elegant curling letters.

“Oh yeah. She’s gonna love this.”

***

Mei was having a bit of trouble with the baking. She wasn’t much of a baker to begin with, and the lamington cake was proving a bit more difficult to deal with than she’d first expected. Even worse, there was nobody really around to help her out. The more experienced cooks like Ana and Satya were absent, and Zarya had already vanished into the gym and didn’t wish to be disturbed. She followed the directions to the best of her ability and readied the station for later, setting up the cream and sugar and coconut that she’d read were necessary ingredients for a true Aussie lamington. She had struggled through mixing and measuring, but now had the sponge cakes in their respective pans and the oven was fiery hot. It had taken a little bit longer to make than she’d thought, so she set the oven just a tiny bit hotter to quicken the baking time, so it would be done before they had to leave for dinner. By her calculations, everything was going quite well.

Her phone chimed, and Jamie’s portrait flickered onto the projection above it. Mei flicked it on, and spoke up politely. “Zhou Mei-Ling speaking!”

“Of course it’s you, darl, who else would it be? Less you got kidnapped or something, it’s always gonna be you.”

“It’s polite!”

“Yeah, arroight. You wanna come meet me out by the transport when you got a sec. I’ma be there in about ten. I got you something!”

Her cheeks flushed a little, hiding a smile in one hand despite nobody being around to see it. “Oh my gosh! I’ll be right out, I’ll meet you as you come in. See you soon!”

Shoving the cakes into the oven and turning the dials, she set the timers and threw down her mitts, hurrying down the hallway towards her room.

She emerged a bit later wearing her new blue dress and shawl, complete with new white stockings and matching heels, her hair done up in a double loop with her favorite snowflake pin already in place, flouncing a bit as she click-click-clicked her way down the halls toward the transports. She arrived just in time to see the door hiss open, and Junkrat poke his head out curiously. He grinned when he saw her, loping out and opening both long arms, wrapping them around her and swinging her in a little circle.

“You’re looking even more a beaut than usual, lovey. I love seeing you fancy.”

“And you look…clean! Really clean! And you smell like…everything?” She looked confused for a moment, but Junkrat puffed his scrawny chest up and ran a hand through his remaining tufts of hair.

“I told Roadie you’d like that, I did. I even got some real pants and everything so we’ll look all…chic, or whatever. Now that’s romance! Speaking of romance, thought I’d better bring ya these!” He reached behind him back into the transport, and whipped back around with the enormous bouquet, holding it out with a proud grin.

She looked genuinely surprised as she accepted the giant bundle of colorful blooms, sniffing them appreciatively. “Oh my goodness, they’re so lovely! So many colors! I’ll have to make sure to put them in water before we leave. Oh, they left the receipt on the- Oh here’s another one. Why are these all notarized? Here’s another one! What?”

Junkrat preened at himself once more. “That’s right! I had them make extra for you!”

She opened the card and bit her lip to keep from laughing. In true Junkrat fashion, it was simultaneously ridiculous and kind of sweet once she got her mind around his version of logic. He had been proud of legitimately paying for a gift for her because that’s what she’d want him to do, and by god he was going to let her know it.

“That’s really nice, Jamie, it is.” She sniffled, wiping at her eye as she took in the bouquet’s lovely floral scents.

Junkrat’s grin only grew. This whole Valentines business was shaping up nicely, and this was only the beginning of what promised to be an extremely pleasant- and hopefully later on, extremely carnal- evening for them both. He draped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head, leaning down when he saw her cheeks redden and a few tears start to slip down her cheeks. “Aw, Mei darl, they’re just flowers. I mean, they’re nice flowers, probably the best flowers ever, but these are just the beginning!”

More tears slipped down her cheeks, one arm clutching the bouquet as the other clutched at her chest, clearly overcome with emotion. “I can’t breathe.”

“Hehe, aw, you don’t gotta flatter me anymore, I know th-”

“Jamie…I can’t breathe…”

“Huh?”

She dropped the flowers suddenly with a loud cough as the bouquet crashed to the tarmac. He released his hold around her, dancing around to her front and tilting her face up at him. Her face was red, too red for a blush, and her eyes and nose were watering steadily as her gaze creased shut, doubling over to cough and sneeze wildly.

“Were there chrysanthemums or marigolds in the bouquet?” she choked.

“What are those?!”

“The flowers…”

He looked down helplessly at the abandoned bouquet, picking it up and looking frantically side to side before turning to the escarpment and pitching them off the side of the nearby cliff like they were a live grenade, watching them flip through the air in a very pretty manner before tumbling into the abyss of the ocean below. “Fuck! Oh fuck, I’m sorry! I didn’t know! I swear I didn’t!”

“Oh doh…I’m addergic to chrysanthebubs and barigoads…” Her voice became thick and rasping as she wiped at her running nose, trying to keep her shawl clean. “Take be to Bercy?”

“Huh?”

“Bercy! M-ercy! Dr. Ziegler! She has pills!”

“Roight! Roight! Uh, yeah, this way!” Wrapping an arm around her, he started leading her down the hall, only to become irritated with her slower pace in her high heels and scooping her up in both arms to hurry them along their way towards the clinic. It might have looked rather gallant were it not for the fact that the weepy-eyed and runny-nosed Mei was coughing and sneezing repeatedly all over him and protesting their journey with stuffy cries of ‘I tode you I cad walk!’

They caught Angela just as she was preparing to leave the clinic, with the doctor looking a bit startled but not entirely surprised to see them. She managed to swiftly translate Mei’s garbled speech, presenting her with two pills, a glass of water, and an injection. Junkrat sheepishly explained the flower situation to her as they waited for it all to take effect. Angela shook her head, more amused than alarmed.

“You’d be surprised at how often this sort of thing happens. Though it seems Mei has a bit of a more severe reaction than most,” she said, presenting her patient with another packet of tissues to stem the tide of tears and mucus.

Junkrat grumbled from a chair nearby, putting his face in his hands. “This ain’t how I thought this was gonna go.”

“Things rarely work out so well, Mr. Fawkes.” Angela replied soothingly. “Ah, you seem to be doing better now, Mei. That’s right, now try breathing in, then out, in, then and out…”

Junkrat, without really thinking, took up the breathing exercises as well. Angela remarked something about how well he’d do in a ‘lamaze’ class, whatever that was, when he lifted his head and sniffed suddenly. “Hey, you smell that? Something’s burnin’?”

Mei’s eyes widened, sliding hurriedly off the exam table as she fought to get past Ziegler and into the hall. “Oh doh! By cakes! By cakes are burding!”

Sensing the chance for a heroic redemption, Junkrat was off like a shot towards the kitchen, hobbling as fast as his peg leg would allow. “I got it! I got this, darl, you’ll see! Are you watching!”

“Mr. Fawkes get back here this instant!”

He ignored Dr. Ziegler’s angry yelling, running into the communal kitchen where wisps of gray were seeping from the ovens. Grabbing a nearby mitt and pulling open the door, he was enveloped by the very familiar and almost comforting presence of thick black smoke, reaching through with his metal hand until his fingers clicked against the side of a cake pan. With a triumphant grin, he seized one and pulled it out, holding it aloft just in time to spy Angela and Mei in hot pursuit as they made their way through the dining area. He stood straight, his upper body no longer clean, but smoky gray and dark with ash just like he’d been before, the tips of his hair smoldering slightly from the heat.

“I saved ‘em! Mei, I got your cakes! Lookit!” He shook the pan slightly in triumph but found the slick surface of the pan hard to grip as it started to tip to one side. Without even thinking, he brought up his flesh hand to steady it, and both Mei and Angela stopped short when he let loose a shrieking howl of agony, dropping the pan with a clatter onto the floor as he grasped the wrist of his now burnt hand, the palm quickly turning a painful looking mix of red and yellow.

Angela leapt into action, grasping him by the hand and physically dragging him to the sink, turning on the cold water as she held the burnt skin under. “Athena! Turn off kitchen ovens, unlock the security door to the clinic again, and please contact Genji and let him know I’ll be running late.”

A pleasant voice chimed from above them. “Right away, Dr. Ziegler. Do you have a specific message for Mr. Shimada?”

She looked between Mei and Junkrat with a sigh. “Tell him there’s a situation.”

***

They were released over an hour later, with Mei still blowing her nose and wheezing while Junkrat wore a heavily bandaged left hand and a miserable expression. Side by side, they walked back towards the dorm areas, leaving the frantic Angela to rush out the door with her coat only half on, wishing them both a pleasant night. Neither of them seemed to think it was a very pleasant night at all.

“I just wanted to get you pretty flowers, love. Thought you’d like flowers. Didn’t know it was gonna…I dunno.”

“I was going to make you a lamington cake…I thought it’d be nice to come back to after we’d had our dinner and tea and walk and just…everything.” She pulled another tissue, blowing her nose as she glanced to her phone. “Our reservations are gone by now.”

“Yeah. Sorry…Thought this was gonna be a real good Valentines, but it’s all fucked up, I always fuck it up.”

“You didn’t mess anything up, Jamie, honest. We can still salvage Valentines Day! We can have barbecue any old day, that’s fine. Teas and walks too. We’ll just save all that for later…Do you want to order takeout instead? There’s a Thai place that still delivers. And I don’t really feel like going out anymore. We could watch a movie?” She offered him a smile, sniffling loudly.

He brightened slightly at that. “You sure that’s okay with you? Even if it ain’t romantic?”

“We can make it romantic. We can order in, watch a movie, and then…if we get really bored with the movie…” She glanced about, then leaned up towards his ear, whispering.

His eyebrows shot upward. “Crikey…Yeah, yeah, that sounds real good to me. Oi, you mind if we stop and ask the big lug if he wants to order anything with us? Feel sorta bad for him stuck in that room givin’ himself a…I mean, ya know, alone on Valentines. Ya mind?”

“That’s fine. Oh, we should ask Zarya too, since she’s still around.” She tapped at her phone. “Hm…Strange, she’s not answering.”

She followed after him towards the junkers’ shared quarters, and Junkrat was just about to approach with his key when she suddenly grabbed onto his arm, eyes widening as there was a noise from inside. Junkrat leapt back from the door as if he’d just been burned a second time, clutching onto Mei as there was a loud crash and a fading rattle, followed by a yell.

“Here’s the one-man apocalypse!”

“Da! Da! Break me, Big Man! Break me or I will break you!”

There was a loud groaning bellow that seemed to reverberate their very bones, and then what sounded like the breaking and splintering of wood and metal and the sound of gruff, thunderous laughter. Something slammed against the door from inside, causing them both to jump back.

“H-hooley dooley…” Junkrat squeaked, eyes bulging, looked a mixture of impressed and terrified. Mei glanced up at him, her expression much the same.

“My room?”

“Your room.”

The two practically fled back to Mei’s dorm, where she slumped in front of her computer and looked up the take-out order menu, while Junkrat collapsed onto her bed and began flicking through the selection of movies, shaking his head wryly. “Well, at least someone’s enjoying their Valentines Day to the fullest. Even if it ain’t us. Oi, get me one of them curry rices, will ya? Get comfy, darl, I think we’re in.”

Mei put in their orders and then dutifully pulled off her new blue dress and evening outfit, sighing as she hung it back up on the clothes hanger and pulled on her pajamas instead. Crawling across her bed to join Jamison, she propped up several pillows behind them and snuggled up under his arm, being mindful of his burnt hand. “You know…It’ll still be an hour before the food arrives and the movie hasn’t started yet…I’m starting to get bored.”

Junkrat grinned down at her. “Ya know, I was just starting to feel real bored myself. Probably should entertain ourselves for a bit.” He winced slightly as he leaned on his hand, adding, “Just, ya know, carefully. Happy shitty Valentines Day, lovey.”

She leaned up to kiss him, arms wrapping around him and drawing him down towards the bed. “Happy shitty Valentines Day.”

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