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seancekitsch · 4 years

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Dislocated

A/N Warnings: description of injury, references to violence, oral sex, penetrative sex, diego being a soft little angel but also very sexy hot sex man, cursing, diego has long hair but other than that no spoilers, mild product placement because me and u and everyone else are slaves to capitalism, references to diegos comics powers

“Fuck. Where do you keep your bactine?”

“My what?”

“Bactine! You know the spray stuff I use. It would really help that split knuckle of yours,” Diego sounds exhausted, but there's a hint of teasing, or maybe pride in his voice as he rummages on his hands and knees in your bathroom cabinet. The knuckle on your middle finger of your left hand is split open, oozing blood and angry looking. Your bathroom, and the two of you, look like a scene out of a horror film tonight. There is his shirt, which was white earlier tonight, now a red and pink and brown tie dye with blood, some of it yours. You have your hand, and a bruise blooming under your eye.

“My knuckle wouldn’t need anything if those people hadn’t come after us,” you snap, “Who were they anyway?”

“Oh you know, someone with something against someone in my family,” Diego offers as he digs, as if it's commonplace to fight off attackers on date night. As if this was something normal people from normal families dealt with. Of fucking course, you think.

“Someone? Or you specifically, babe?”

He sits back at this, and a hard look crosses his features, not at you, contemplating, then breaks into the slightest grin as he looks down at the gauze and neosporin in his hands and nods. Thats fair. From where you're sitting on the rim of the tub, he looks like some kind of action hero in the night. Some real die hard shit in your dimly lit bathroom. Normally, it's you in his position, but you doubt you look like this. He's got his vigilante bullshit, which frequently has him showing up during booty call hours needing to be bandaged up before thanking you with a little action of your own. You wonder if he's going to be as good a nurse to you as you are to him, or if he's genuinely a little angry at your role in what transpired tonight. You didn't even make it to your dinner reservation, opting to walk because the weather was nice, before two men dressed exactly the way unnamed baddies in a die hard film grabbed at you from behind and the two of you had to defend yourselves. Only some of the blood on his shirt was yours. This is probably why he always wears black. He looks damn good in black.

“Anyone ever taught you how to fight? Throw a punch?”

You tilt your head, which is a bad move because it feels a little heavy, giving him a look that says of course no one did.

“Right,” he nods and you figure that once you heal he will probably be changing that. Diego never wanted to rope you into anything having to do with the academy or what he does at night, unless it was seeing his siblings in almost real people circumstances like dinners. But seeing you get hurt tonight means he obviously has to make some changes to that mindset, you have to be able to defend yourself if for ever some reason he can't. You're going to have to get sweaty, and not in the way you like to. But anything for your safety, Diego thinks. He cannot risk losing you after having lost so much.

He resigns to this as he helps you up, puts you on the bathroom counter with the vanity, you now sitting on the edge of the sink so he can sink down and sit while he cleans your hand. You were lucky that it was just the left hand. Your right hand had been spared from your left’s bloody fate because of the way your right hand tried to seek out Diego while your left threw a clumsy punch, but the hardest one you'd ever thrown. Your whole arm aches and your bracelet had been broken, but you have to say you're lucky for this being your only injury. Diego clutches your hand, a bit harder, but that's because he knows you're not going to like the feel of the neosporin as it makes contact with your skin. He has a substantial amount on his fingers of the hand that's not holding yours, and looks you in the eye as he makes the ointment meet your skin. No matter how gentle he can be when he wants to, it stings. It's supposed to be that way so it doesn't get infected and kill you, but you can't help the hiss that leaves your mouth and the wince across your features. As he rubs it in, you can feel yourself getting used to the pain. It doesn't subside but it becomes more manageable as it becomes something more familiar. Is this what Diego feels each time?

It feels worse again when Diego stops rubbing it in, and reaches for the bandages. Maybe because you don't want him to stop touching you, but maybe it is because of more exposure to the air. He uses the hand holding yours to hold it in place as he wraps, gently again, but so the wrap is pulled tight. You have some movement, but you won't be making a fist again for a while. He ties it off, tapes it to make extra sure, and then kisses the knuckles over their bandage as you smile down at him and laugh. Hes a perfect romantic gentleman when he wants to be.

He stands and reaches behind you, arms going around you on either side. You reach to hug him back tightly, only you hear him chuckle as the water of the sink turns on behind you. He's washing the chemicals from his hands. After he scrubs real well, dries his hands, he returns the hug, burying his face in your neck and squeezing tightly as if he's trying to make sure you're still there. His relief fans out as an exhale along your neck and you can physically feel his entire body relax against you now because you're safe. You're going to be okay.

“How'd I do, baby?” he asks, still burying his face in your neck, “Good enough that your nurse gets a tip?”

“Nurses don't get tips.”

“You usually do.”

“I didn't say you wouldn't be rewarded for your efforts, did I?”

He pulls back to look you in the eye.

“So what do I get?”

“Anything you want, baby.”

Diego’s hands are gentle as they trail from your shoulders down your sides, gripping fistfuls of the flowy shirt you wear and pulls you to the edge of the counter. Still gentle. Still full of fear for you. Maybe mixed and speckled with relief.

The way his hands continue south, to unzipper your pants, pulling them off slowly, gently, an act of love and service more than an act of lust. He inches the fabric over your ankles, your feet, discards them somewhere outside the doorway into the hall with a small toss. Rises back to his knees for a moment, takes a pause to wrap his arms around you in a hesitant hug, like he could break you, his arms warm. Your arms instinctually settle on his shoulders to cradle the back of his head in your bandaged and loved hands before he snaps out of the moment and moves on to your shirt. He pays special attention to the buttons, one after the other slow and meticulous. If this were another night and a shirt you didn't care much about, there's a good chance he would have just cut the shirt from your frame. But tonight he's doing things like a holy man with an intricate ritual. When the last button is unfastened and free, his palms flatten, slowly slide up your torso over your stomach, over your breasts, and to your shoulders where he moves the fabric from them with the feather light touch taking extra time to feel your left shoulder, the one that swung the momentum of the punch that split your knuckle. He’s checking to see if its dislocated, you realize.

“D? Baby, I’m okay. You're good at playin’ nurse,” you reassure him.

He seems to understand, as he next pulls the straps from your bra down your shoulders, slides his hands behind your back, and makes sure you feel the heat from his hands as he makes work of the clasp. Your underwear is next, and a hint of Diego on a normal night shines through, with one hand splayed across your back he uses the other to pull the underwear down from one hip, then switches sides and tugs on the other side. He makes quick work of them, unlike the tempo he had going. They end up somewhere in the doorway near your pants, but you don't really care about their location because he's pressing his lips against your chest just around your sternum and his facial hair tickles. You still weren't completely sure where he came back from or what he went through a few months ago, but the way that he loves you and treats you like the most precious thing is definitely welcome. As was the new lack of haircut and the less groomed facial hair. He kisses lower and lower, making you shiver with anticipation of what's to come, before he settles where he's needed now.

Diego moves slowly, glacial. The way he licks you open has no purpose, merely exploratory and drawn out. Mapping you on his tongue. But it doesn’t fail to have you mewling above him, one hand gripping the counter and the other buried in his hair as his strong calloused hands hold you open for him to drink full. He dips lower, where you need him, then travels north again as if oblivious to your reactions. He could do this all night. He stays there, meandering; savoring the taste lazily as you grow more impatient at the non-committal non-specific way he licks and kisses and moves. You feel like you are hors d'oeuvres and not a meal for a starving man. And then Diego does what Diego does best. He surprises you. A hard suck to your clit has you inhaling sharply, gasping through your nose as your toes curl and your eyes flutter shut. You lean back over the sink, back of your head resting on the mirror as you try to present yourself at an easier angle for him. He dives into licking you in full-heartedness now, fucking you with his tongue, kissing and sucking at your clit, absolutely killing any coherent thought coming through your mind right now. The benefits of dating a man that can hold his breath indefinitely was definitely what he did with his mouth to you when you were alone.

He adds a finger and you automatically think you've died. He knows exactly what he's doing when he fucks you like this, his mouth adding to the wetness dripping from you as he works you over, putting just enough pressure behind each thrust of his hand to have you seeing stars. Your eyes roll back as a wanton moan tears from your throat and it sounds like someone elses voice desperately chanting his name as he has you coming, coming, and coming on his face and hand. He stays down there, the one hand still on your thigh to hold you in place, to give you a light squeeze, release some of the muscle tension built up while he licks his other hand clean sucking the digit into his mouth obscenely while he smiles up at you like an angel. He rises up from his knees and kisses your cheek with his wet mustache and beard and wraps loose arms around you, a sweet and lazy gesture.

Diego incites a passion in you that's rare. You can't recall ever wanting a person this much. So despite being sensitive from the absolute divinity of what he'd just done to you, you can't help but to jump off the counter. You reach for his pants, taking the time to feel his hard length under the fabric before you pop the button and unleash the teeth of the zipper. You pull them down just enough to free him from his boxers, and then turn yourself around to bend down against the damp counter you'd just been sitting on, looking at him through playful eyes in the mirror as he stares back, dick out and hesitant. He puts a cautious hand on your hip.

“No, not like this. I wanna see you.”

You meet his eyes in the mirror and tap on the glass with your good hand. He reaches for that arm and slowly turns you to face him.

“No baby,” he refutes, cradling your face in his strong hands, “I n-need to see you.”

So you nod, understanding that he needs this, and reposition yourself to lay on the small woven rug you kept on the floor. The bathroom floor is not the most comfortable place to lay, but this is for Diego and his peace of mind. You yield to his touch and his control over the situation as he finishes undressing and sinks down onto the floor to take his place above you. To indulge in the relief that you are okay, to bask in your gratefulness at how well he patched you up.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your neck as he kisses you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Because you got hurt? Because he needed more tenderness than you originally wanted to give him? Because earlier tonight he was so fucking afraid he’d never get to look into your face again that he has to look you in the eye when you make him come tonight?

Your bandaged hand finds its way into his hair and holds him there, close, as your fingers go to work to massaging words of comfort into his scalp. He kisses your neck once, twice, three times before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing into your cunt. You're wet, so excruciatingly and devastatingly wet and god it almost hurts him to bottom out inside you the same way something so hot can almost feel cold when it touches your skin and puts your nerves into overdrive. You're so sensitive from his mouth that you have to bite into the skin of his broad shoulder to muffle the scream that rebels against you to break into the air. Your teeth in his skin is his only relief from the soft tight burning taking over him from where your bodies join. He only moves when your teeth recede, his thrusts slow and short and deep, savoring the feeling of being connected, of being inside, of being home. His arms hold you in place while he thrusts just as much as they hold you just to feel you against him at any point of connection he can find. A vow to keep you close, to keep you where you both need each other to be. He moans deeply into your neck, the side of your face, kissing the moan into your jaw like a promise. It's more real than any declaration of love and more spontaneous than any act of romance. It's Diego.

You can feel yourself getting lost in this, in him. He's pushing you to the edge again. For you, one is too many, and a thousand is never enough with Diego. Its you selfishly moving your hips against the rhythm of his, making you both a little shocked but not embarrassed (never embarrassed) at how close you both are already. There's a desperation in both of your actions, and he pulls back just enough to see you, to let himself be seen by you. Only you. Is this what you look like when you make love after setting stitches in wounds that will definitely scar? You hope so, because he looks like heaven itself. He fucks you through your high (with a scream of his name and tears on your cheeks), fucks you through his own(with a stuttering chant of your name and deadly eye contact), then gives you one more with his mouth on the bathroom rug (with quiet whimpering and praise from both of your lips). Diego lifts you up on unsteady legs and you both tumble into bed. You sleep in late the next morning. You miss calls from his siblings that all go to voicemail. You're home safe.

#diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves smut #diego hargreeves fanfic #diego hargreeves imagine #my work

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talkfastromance4 · 4 years

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something part 3--calum hood

A/N: This is it! The final piece! Thank you for bearing with me while I took you on this rollercoaster of emotions and for being so kind while I took my break. Much love💕

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: drinking, mentions of smoking weed, dealing with heartbreak, sexual situations

Part one || Part two

***

Five months have gone by and Calum tried to push the idea to publicly date Missy away as best he could. The guys even tried to help, but inevitably he was forced to say yes. Calum’s reading over the itinerary he and Missy have to follow over his morning coffee. He takes a sip remembering when she was brought in to discuss the arrangements. It was the Monday following the best and worst weekend of his life with Y/N.

Calum’s body language is screaming ‘leave me the fuck alone I’m pissed’ as he sits slouched in the chair, arms folded against his chest and his hands in fists. His facial expression mirrors a rock, hard and unforgiving as Missy walks in with her manager and the band’s PR liaison. He watches her with hard eyes take a seat next to him, Calum purposely shifts his chair far away from her. She frowns slightly then smiles politely to the rest.

Calum listens as the team discusses the arrangement. How it will benefit both the band and up the ante on her modeling career.

“To be tied with one of the most desirable bachelors will increase magazines wanting to feature you,” Christina the liaison explains excitedly. Calum can’t help but snort.

“Pair her with Styles’ then, he’s more notorious than I am,” Calum grumbles.

“We couldn’t get in contact,” Missy’s manager says, her voice clipped as she narrows her eyes at Calum. “It will boost record sales for your music—”

“And we want the first single to be the love song, ‘Through the Dark.’”

Ashton, Michael, and Luke’s heads whip to Calum who has become even more outraged. It can’t be that song; he wrote that about Y/N.

“With the new romance rumors and the song, it will be a hit in no time, probably surpassing the charts of Ariana Grande and Styles combined.”

“No, we’re not having that be the single,” Ashton tries to dissuade the agreement that neither member of the band was a part of.

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t written about Missy,” Calum says. His voice is as monotonous as his face. From the corner of his eye, he sees Missy look at him with a quizzical look.

“So what? No one will know except the people in this room. The relationship will last about eight months, until the album is officially released, and touring starts. You’ll inevitably break up because Missy will be too busy modeling around the world and you gentleman will also be touring. Everybody wins.”

There’s grumbles amongst the band, Calum’s jaw clicks in anger. He turns his gaze to the window, sees the clouds rolling in as his private life is being scheduled like he’s some sort of robot. He closes his eyes thinking of Y/N, and how she looked in that flower crown and then how she looked with the petals scattered in her hair like she was some type of goddess. Then he sees her with tears in her eyes.

“Calum?”

He opens his eyes and turns at the sound of his name. It’s just him and Missy in the conference room. He’s getting really tired of hearing his name if it’s not from Y/N’s lips. She moves a little closer to him in her chair, an apologetic look on her face.

“Kind of surprised ‘fake dating’ actually happens. I’ve heard rumors and look, they’re true.”

“Imagine that.” He rolls his eyes.

Missy feels the iciness in his tone, and she tries again.

“Look, this is weird for me, too. It was all my manager’s idea which is insulting because if I need a fake boyfriend to get more modeling gigs then her faith in me isn’t all that great. I don’t think of you that way—”

“Your kiss at my party said otherwise.”

“I was drunk, I’ll kiss anyone. And…all right, maybe I did have a crush on but when that girl—”

“Y/N?”

“Right, her. When Y/N showed up and I saw the way you looked at her…I couldn’t compete with that. I don’t want to come between you two.”

“Too late.”

“What happened? Maybe I could talk to her—”

“I don’t really feel like talking about it, Missy, all right? She’s not even talking to me, so I highly doubt she’d talk to you. The woman of my dreams ended things before they even began, and I couldn’t even tell her I love her.”

Missy’s quiet for a moment then offers a kind smile.

“Sounds like you want to talk about it a little….”

He pushes away from the table in a huff then stops with his hand on the doorknob.

“I’ll play this act if it helps you in some weird, twisted way but it means nothing to me. We’ll do all the proper pap shots and appearances but no physical contact whatsoever. Those are my limits.”

He storms out as he hears a quiet ‘okay’ and the guys are waiting for him down the hall. They try to reach out for him, but Calum continues walking.

Calum looks down at his notebook, sketches and doodles of flowers are scattered about the page. Their stems and vines looping through the words that are constantly running through his head. He takes a long drink of his coffee, letting the bitterness warm his insides.

After the meeting with management and Missy, Calum called Y/N. He texted her. He knocked on her door. It wasn’t until Crystal told him to give her space did he really back off. He knows Y/N didn’t mean what she said. That night they shared was something special. From how she was so perfect with his untimely manner to how she took care of him while he had allergies from the flowers he picked. And finally, to the way they connected.

The radio in his car is still broken, but he doesn’t listen to music anymore, he can’t because it reminds him of Y/N. Everything reminds him of her.

It’s not like Missy is a bad person. She’s actually become a good friend to Calum and respected his boundaries he set up for their ‘relationship.’ The only touching that happens is by her with her hand holding onto his arm, and even that is just for pictures. No hand holding, no hugs, no kisses.

She’s gaining the hype her manager wanted and Calum has remained off social media as soon as it started. When he’s not rehearsing with the guys or doing PR with Missy, Calum’s secluded himself to his home and music room all while being viewed like a goldfish in a bowl.

So, he writes. He writes about flowers in hair, flowers pressed between bodies and flowers held together by a chain. He also writes about strawberries. He hasn’t eaten one since he kissed her last.

Y/N’s been keeping herself busy, well, as much as she can. Everywhere she goes she’s reminded of Calum. Especially when she opens her closet and sees the small wooden box she placed his bouquet of flowers and flower crown in. She couldn’t find it in herself to throw them away.

That first week after what happened with Calum she spent it crying and listening to sad music. Her heartbreak had her rethink of past moments with Calum. All of the ‘what if’s’ are now ‘will nots.’ Which is way too close to ‘he loves me, he loves me not’ for her liking hidden in the petals of the flowers.

She ignored his calls and texts.

The first time she saw them together was a month after the whole ordeal. She thought she was in a good place and as she was scrolling through Instagram on her lunch break she saw the first picture. Calum and Missy were walking along the pier going in and out of shops. They were wearing sunglasses and Calum didn’t really show much emotion but if he knew paps were around, he never did.

What Y/N zeroed in on was Missy’s hand on Calum’s arm.

Her heart fell into her stomach and she closed the app without even reading the caption. She deleted her Instagram and Twitter apps that day.

When she got home she opened the box of flowers, their scent mixed in with the cedar wood twisted her heart. Very delicately, she lifted the bouquet from the box. Calum’s chain was still wrapped around the now dry, frail stems.

She should throw them out. She almost did. She couldn’t. The dried flowers were the only reminder that what happened between her and Calum was real. That it actually happened. How could she let that go? Even if he was the one that got away and kept getting away?

“You did this Y/N,” she muttered to herself placing the flowers back in the box. “You made him leave before you could get attached.”

The next day there was a knock at her door. Not expecting anyone she peeked through the curtains and saw it was Ashton with a pizza box and a plastic bag.

“Ashton…what are you doing here?” she asks upon opening the door.

“I come bearing gifts of the heartbreak kind,” he grins sheepishly holding up the box and bag.

“Is that a champagne bottle I see in that bag?” she asks seeing the slender neck and gold foiling.

“It is. And caramel ice cream.”

“All right. You can come in,” she allows stepping aside so he can enter.

“So,” he sighs falling heavily against the couch. The pizza box is open on her coffee table, he has a glass of water while Y/N is holding onto the bottle of champagne. His hazel eyes take her in, “how are you?”

“That’s a loaded question,” she scoffs pressing play on the Marvel movie. She decided on Infinity War. “It’s been a month, so you think I’d be okay. I was told that however long you were with someone, that’s how long it takes to get over them divided in half. So, if you’re with someone for a year, you should be over them in six months. Calum and I were…’together’ for a day so it should have been twelve hours, right? But nope.”

She takes a long chug of the champagne until it makes her eyes water from the bubbles. The sweet nectar bites at her tongue and teeth.

“Who told you that math?”

“An old boss of mine,” she shrugs.

“Well, it’s stupid as shit. There’s no time limit for how you fall for someone just as there’s no time limit for you to lose feelings. You have feelings when you have them.”

“We went on one date, Ashton. I shouldn’t be this bent out of shape over that.”

“Hey,” he pinches her shoulder affectionately until she looks at him. His face softens. “You and Calum always had something between you. From an outside perspective, I get why you both danced on that line between friends and something more. You’ve both been hurt and there was always something in the way.”

“Or someone,” her eyes drop at the thought of Missy. Then she thinks of the photo she saw of them and rubs at her eyes, so the tears won’t come.

“My point is,” he stresses grabbing hold of her hand, “you’re allowed to feel hurt and sad and angry.”

“I’m trying so hard to not feel that way all the time, but it…it’s so consuming sometimes.”

“I know. Before you drink the whole bottle, eat some pizza, we’ll watch the movie and we can talk some more, okay?”

About halfway through the movie Y/N’s hugging the ¾ full bottle against her chest as a comfort object. She never drinks her sadness away, she knows how dangerous that is, but it feels nice to have her head not feel so full because all her thoughts are tumbling out to Ashton. His arm is around her shoulders in comfort as she leans into him.

“You always thought there was something between us?” she asks.

“I didn’t think, I knew.”

“What’s the difference?” she stares at him quizzically; the bubbly made his words confusing. Ashton smiled at her response.

“He’d always tell me how he wanted to ask you out. He’d ask if you were coming to any dinner or party we had. But he was scared to ruin your friendship and in my opinion, I think it scared him how close you two got so fast.”

“Hmph,” she slumps against the inside of his arm.

“Your song played while we were driving that night, you know.”

“Yeah? Which one?”

“Drive,” she giggles at the comedy of it all. “He gave me wildflowers with his chain around it and bought me a flower crown.”

“It sounds like a great night.”

“It was! But then he got sleepy cause he was allergic to the flowers, then he passed out on me. But I liked it…” she takes the last sip of her champagne then pouts that it’s empty.

“One is enough for you,” Ashton chuckles placing the bottle next to the pizza box. He settles back next to her and they watch the movie for a moment.

“I saw their picture today,” she says somberly. “I know it’s fake. But they’re both a catch…so it’ll be no surprise that it’ll become real.”

“Y/N—”

“It happens all the time Ash,” she shrugs. “I’m the person before everyone’s happy ending.”

“That’s not true. Look at all you and Calum have been through together. This damn arrangement is a roadblock for sure, but you two are the final drive.”

“That…kind of makes sense. I can’t tell,” she shakes her head.

“It’d make sense a full champagne bottle ago,” he mutters but she hears him.

She nudges him in the ribs playfully until they’re both laughing.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” she says and moves down the hall.

Ashton checks his phone to see Luke is trying to console Calum, too. It was hard for him to act with Missy today. Luke reports that Calum has had only one drink but is smoking a lot of weed to help clear his head and wants to drive to Y/N’s house.

When Ashton has finished replying to keep an eye on him, Y/N is standing next to the couch. He looks up at her to see she has her arms wrapped around herself, her lower lip caught between her teeth, but he hears the quick gasps of her sobs.

“I really hate this, Ashton.”

“C’mere,” he opens his arms to her and hugs her tightly.

“It’s really hard being lonely.”

She cries into his shirt, finding comfort in his embrace and friendship.

Y/N’s found a good friendship with Max from work. Nothing romantic at all, but he makes sure they do a lot of fun things together. It’s been almost five months since that night with Calum and when Y/N comes across a photo of him and Missy together, Max is there to take her to the beach or a movie to distract her mind.

Now when she sees photos of them it doesn’t make her go in her closet to look at the wilted flowers. It’s still a sting in the thorn of her heart but it’s more bearable. The first single off their new album was ‘Through the Dark’ and it made her cry. Max found her laying on the floor of her room with it playing on a loop, the box of flowers unopened but lying next to her. He laid next to her and held her hand as tears rolled down her cheeks.

She’s meeting up with Max at his place for lunch and she was craving the chicken Caesar sandwich from the bistro on the pier. It wasn’t until she saw her that Y/N remembered this is a favored spot for Calum and Missy to be spotted and there she was. Standing off the side of the counter looking gorgeous in a spring dress.

Y/N tried to keep her head down as she ordered.

“And what’s the name?” the cashier asks.

“Y/N.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Y/N? Oh, it is you!” Missy says suddenly next to her.

“Got it this time, thanks. We’ll call you when your food’s ready.”

“Thanks,” Y/N mutters. She takes a deep breath and turns to Missy. “Hi.” She looks around the shop expecting to see Calum and trying to prepare herself to come face to face with him.

“He’s not here,” Missy says quietly glancing around the shop as well then grabs Y/N’s wrist pulling her to the far end of the sandwich showcase. “He’d actually hate me for even talking about this…and to you but…I’m so sorry. For everything. My manager came up with this PR stunt.”

“You don’t have to explain, I get it’s for publicity,” Y/N tries to get away from this situation as quickly as possible while also keeping herself together. Her neck is warm, and her breathing has accelerated in a slight panic.

Missy grabs her wrist again but pulls her into the women’s bathroom. Y/N’s affronted at the boldness of Missy’s actions.

“It is all publicity, I swear! I don’t know exactly what happened between you and Calum but he’s miserable. We’re friends now and all he talks about is you. How funny you are and kind you are. He really misses you,” Missy continues with a frown.

Y/N sighs. She really does seem nice but she’s still keeping her guard up. How could she not?

“He really cares about you, Y/N.” Missy stresses squeezing Y/N’s hand for emphasis.

“Missy, look. I appreciate you telling me all this. You… you actually seem really nice and genuine which makes it that much harder for me to dislike you.”

“I get that,” Missy nods her head, “but he really, really cares about you.” Her eyes grow bigger each time she said really, and Y/N gives her a confused look.

“Yeah…you um…you said that?”

“No, he…ugh he’s going to hate me, but he loves you. ‘Through the Dark is about you. He told me you’re the girl of his dreams when we met the Monday after his party. I’ve felt horrible all this time.”

Y/N stares at Missy while she processes what she just heard.

“When did he tell you that again?”

“His party was Friday, and we met that Monday to discuss the logistics of this stupid ploy. Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry for kissing him in front of you! I was drunk, I’ll kiss anyone, and I told him I did have a small crush on him but when I saw the way he looked at you it went away. I swear!”

“He really said he loves me?”

“Yes! When we’re not out getting photographed he’s always writing in his notebook and drawing flowers in it. Not that I’ve read anything,” Missy adds in a rush. “It’s just over his shoulder I saw it a couple times before he closed it.”

“Yeah but that was months ago, I’m sure he’s already caught feelings for you.”

“No, he hasn’t. Trust me. He’s become more like a brother to me, honest. I’ve been trying to force him to talk to you and our ‘contract’ is up in a few months anyway for the album release. I want to break if off early publicly so you can finally be together but he’s so stubborn he won’t.”

Y/N laughs lightly at how fast Missy talks. She’s not sure if it’s out of keeping this all to herself for so long or if that’s really how she is, talking a mile a minute.

“Thank you for telling me this, Missy. I…I can’t believe I’m telling you this since we don’t really know each other but I love him, too. I’ve loved him for so long but I’m the one who pushed him away. I’m the one who told him to do this deal with you because he and I only had one night together,” Y/N explains.

Missy’s eyes widen and she squeals in joy. “You love him too?! Oh, this is great. I’ll arrange for you two to meet up and—”

“Missy, Missy! No, no don’t do that. It’s been too long,” Y/N shrugs. “I doubt he’d want to see me.”

Missy plants her feet on the ground firmly, her face turning very serious very fast. Y/N’s a little taken aback at the fierceness in her gaze.

“Do you want to be with him?” she asks.

“Um..yes.”

“And you love him?”

“Yeah…”

“Then let me help you fix this, please. It’s the least I can do for coming between you when it wasn’t my plan to do so in the first place.”

Y/N takes a deep breath. She’s really starting to like Missy; she has a good heart.

“Okay. How can you help?”

“They’re all planning to go to the Invisible House for a week. I can’t go because I have a shoot to do in New York, but Ashton told me that Calum will be there a couple days before they all arrive.”

Y/N mulls it over, her mind thinking of ways to make it up to him. To apologize. To make him realize how sorry she is and how special he is to her. That despite all the hurdles and messes they’ve been through, that something they have is meaningful.

Then, she gets the perfect idea.

“Do you know when he’s going to be there?” Y/N asks and Missy smiles.

“I know all the details, Y/N.”

The drive to the Invisible House is pretty boring without his radio working so he hums to himself as he drives. Calum’s glad he decided to head there a few days before the rest of the group shows up. The pictures are immaculate and he’s excited to try out the hundred-foot pool.

He texted Missy when he was leaving, and she responded with an encouraging text in return.

‘Have fun! Let me know how everything goes 😉’

He’s confused by the winky face but appreciates it all the same. He’s glad to have her as a friend.

When he arrives at the building it’s dusk, the stars are just dusting the sky and the house is a glowing violet in the desert air. He stares at it for a moment, taking in the beauty of the panes of glass, breathing in the cool desert night. If they were all here a year ago maybe Red Desert would have been Purple Desert.

He shakes his head in disbelief. He’s starting to sound like Luke.

He grabs his belongings, two suitcases and a duffel bag and makes his way to the entrance. Ashton and Michael will be bringing the instruments for a jam session, so he didn’t pack his bass.

Once the door is unlocked, he’s mesmerized by the space before he hears music playing. Was that supposed to be playing? He sets his things by the counter and walks further in. The pool is lit up in a light blue and purple with glowing white lotus flowers floating on the water.

There’s flower petals beneath his feet as he walks the length of the pool. It’s a sweet aroma that fills his nose. Then he panics and thinks Michael has this set up for Crystal. He does not want to walk in on them having a private moment, but that’s hard to do in a glass house.

When he’s at the halfway point of the pool, the soft music becomes a bit louder and he recognizes the drum and guitar chords of Something by The Beatles. His mouth goes dry as he comes to the living area at the end of the pool to where Y/N is standing.

There’s petals on the carpet and she’s holding a white flower in her palm with a flower crown on her head. He’s at a loss for words.

“Hi,” she welcomes quietly.

“Hi…what are you doing here?” he wishes he didn’t ask such a dumb question.

“I should have rehearsed this beforehand what I wanted to say but I had to make sure this was all perfect before you got here. Um, I’m here for you. I know it’s been so long, and this is all my fault in the first place. Pushing you away and I thought I was protecting myself.”

She takes a step forward.

“I’ve been a mess without you, Cal. I miss you, so much it hurts. I think of you all the time, and that night we spent together. Your necklace is still wrapped around the flowers you gave me and that’s what made me think of doing this,” she gestures to her flowers on display all around. She takes another step forward. Closer to the step of the living area, closer to Calum.

“We’ve had our fair share of messes with each other. And it’s my fault for the last one so it’s my responsibility to rectify it. I wanted to show you how much you mean to me, how much that night meant to me.”

Another step forward and Calum is reminded of that night in his room. How he came to her, now he’s the one on the receiving end. He watches her with bated breath, and he knows she’s nervous (like he is) by the way she’s playing with the white flower in her hand.

“And the more I thought about the messes we’ve been through it made me think of the Lotus flower. It grows through the mud but when it breaks through, it’s this vibrant and full flower,” she takes two steps and is right at the edge of the step. She holds up the flower.

“And it’s like we’re the flower. We’re growing through the mud and I called it quits before we really bloomed. And…” she takes a shaky breath then laughs nervously, “this sounded romantic in my head but now it sounds super cheesy. But when I heard you were drawing flowers it made me feel like we were still connected.”

She doesn’t say anything more and neither does Calum. Then, when she looks up at him it all makes sense. What they’ve been through these last several months, that was their mud.

“Can you say something?” she whispers, “I’m starting to feel like an idiot and that this was a really stupid idea—”

He lifts her up to his level connecting their lips together. He brings her against him, and she wraps her arms around his neck, their lips getting reacquainted with each other. She tastes like strawberries and smells of flowers and he’s filled with bliss. He feels whole again.

“I love you,” he gasps when they pause to catch their breath. “I should have said it months ago, but I was scared. I thought it was too soon.”

“I love you, too. I’m so sorry for what I said that day. I wish I didn’t—”

He silences her with another kiss.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. I understand why you did it, sweetheart,” he cups her cheek and gazes into her eyes. “I shouldn’t have walked away like I did.”

“We really are a mess,” she laughs brushing his curls from his face.

“A beautiful mess,” he corrects sucking a kiss from her lips then holds her against him in a tight hug. He never wants to let go.

“Was this too much?” she asks moments later.

“No, it was perfect, thank you for doing all of this for me. I’ll be honest,” he stands up straight to look at her, “I thought I was walking in on Michael and Crystal.”

Y/N laughs and continues laughing until Calum kisses her and she’s left gasping.

“How about we try out the pool?” he mumbles.

They spend a good forty-five minutes in the pool. Soft touches and kisses are exchanged until they reconnect as one. They’re surrounded by the glowing flowers and the ripples they create from their movements. Words of love are spoken and moaned, echoing throughout the space.

They transition to the bed that is also covered in flower petals. Calum kisses down the length of her body, his lips ghosting over her core. Their eyes lock as he attaches his mouth between her folds, his tongue swirling around her bud.

Her legs squeeze around his head on their own accord as she’s vibrating with pleasure. The moans are continuous as he works her over into her second orgasm of the night. When it surpasses, she’s giggling quietly as Calum peppers kisses to her thighs.

“Wow…”

“That good, huh?” he remarks, his lips smacking against her skin bounce off the walls.

“Yeah but…” she rises up on her elbows to look down at him. “Is that all you got? You told me you’d make me cum eight times when we were in your bathroom. Or was that just talk?”

“Oh, you want to be a little sass, huh?” he bites down on the fleshy part of her thigh. “You really shouldn’t have said that.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” she smirks.

“Because now I’m going to make you cum ten times.”

“Okay, Cal, I was just jo—OH!” She falls back against the bed as she’s already filled with intense pleasure.

Suffice it to say, Calum did make her cum nine more times. The overstimulation and her noises got him riled up and he had to be close to her again. He made love to her slowly and tenderly. He gave her gentle kisses and she molded to him.

Before she fell asleep he was stroking her face after she drank some water, he really exhausted her.

“How did you know I was going to be here?”

“I ran into Missy at the bistro I love. She explained everything,” she replies sleepily. She’s struggling to keep her eyes open. “I like her, she’s nice.”

“Yeah, she is.”

“I think she and Max would get along,” she yawns snuggling closer to him.

“I’ll take your word for it. You can go to sleep you know.”

“I want to keep talking to you,” she squeezes his lower back.

“We can talk all day tomorrow. And tomorrow night. And the next day, and the next…”

“Mmm, that sounds nice,” she smiles closing her eyes. “I love you, Cal.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

Two days later the rest of the group arrived, and it was a happy albeit awkward reunion because Calum and Y/N were still naked in bed. They spent their time eating, watching movies, and having sex as much as they wanted. It was perfect but also took a lot out of them.

They were both fast asleep until their names were shouted, and Calum scrambled to cover Y/N up.

“I’m glad to see you, Y/N but I’ll hold off on the hug until you aren’t naked with Cal,” Luke laughs.

“We’ll go bring in the rest of the stuff,” Ashton giggles then winks at Y/N.

“Please tell me this was the only place you had sex,” Michael asks peering at them both with narrow eyes.

“Umm…”

“Ugh!” Michael throws his hands in the air. “You guys better not have left messes anywhere!” he complains walking back towards the main kitchen area.

Calum looks over the wall separating their ‘room’ from the rest of the house and turns to her.

“We’re done with messes, yeah?” Calum grins down at her and she nods bringing his face closer to hers.

“Something great came from the mess,” she agrees and slots her lips with his. They’ll have to be super quiet now.

Taglist: @calpalirwin @myloverboyash @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh @spicycal @mysticalhood @notinthesameguey @wastedheartcth @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart @devilatmydoor @sanrioluke @mayve-hems @haikucal @thatscooibaby @suchalonelysunflower @burstintocolor @dead-and-golden @mymindwide @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @karajaynetoday @quasighost @i-like-5sos @creampiecashton @calpops @superbloomed-c @littledrummeraussie @sexgodashton

#calum hood oneshot #calum hood angst #calum angst #calum hood smut #calum smut #calum 5sos writing #calum writing #5sos writing #calum hood 5sos #calum fic #5soso fic #calum hood fic

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onechicago-upsteadrhekker · 4 years

Text

I’d go black and blue (to make you feel my love) - Upstead one-shot

I’m an hour late for posting on Valentine’s Day but better late than never right??

I wrote this for the @upsteadofficial Love Song Prompt Challenge! It’s probably a little different from a typical V-Day fic but what can I say? I apparently love angst and hurting my own feelings.

Also a HUGE shout out to @mashleighh! Thanks for listening to my ramblings, checking my stuff and always making things better❤️❤️

I hope you all enjoy it!

Read on AO3

Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, Hailey watched Jay slip down the hallway dodging the various cops coming in and out of the run-down house before he turned the corner and disappeared from her view.

Blinking, she tried to push down the urge to follow him. She had a job to do and she’d told Jay she would cover for him, but the text Jay had just showed her mere seconds before settled uneasily in her gut.

Jim. I need your help. Please come over.

“Hailey!”

She gave a start, turning to Kevin who had clearly been calling her a few times, a puzzled look on his face as he tried to get her attention. Realizing she was still standing in the middle of the busy hallway, she moved off to the side with Kevin to let forensics pass.

“You okay?” Kevin asked, his eyes following a couple of patrol officers passing them before turning his gaze back on Hailey, “I called your name like five times. Where’s Jay? Sarge wants to know if you found anything from the security footage.”

Whatever Kevin had just said didn’t register; her eyes still trained down the hallway Jay disappeared through. Sliding her gaze back to her coworker, Hailey gave his chest a distracted pat already moving towards the front of the house, “I need to go. Will you cover for me?”

But before she could leave, Kevin gently grabbed her arm, “Hold on. What’s going on, Hailey?”

She turned back to him, sucking in a breath as she debated over how much she should tell him.

“It’s nothing serious,” Furrowing her brow, she shook her head, “Not yet anyways, but I need to go make sure Jay doesn’t do anything reckless.” She saw Kevin opening his mouth to say something, but she cut him off, “Kevin. Please. Just do this for me, okay? I know what I’m doing.”

Hailey flashed a small, reassuring smile at his concerned expression before she took off in the same direction Jay had a few minutes ago hoping that for once, the sick feeling in her gut was wrong.

Her headlights lit up Jay’s truck as she quickly pulled over to park behind it, turning off the engine to sit in the dark for a couple of seconds as she decided what she should do.

It was obvious he wasn’t in the truck and the nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right wouldn’t leave her alone. After a brief debate in her head over whether she should go undercover or not, the over-cautious part of her won out, quietly opening her car door and tucking her gun into the back of her waistband.

Hailey definitely didn’t want Angela Nelson to find out who Jay was and her by association, but she wasn’t about to enter a situation blind without him and not have a firearm.

She crept up the worn stairs and cautiously peeked into the windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jay doing nothing but repairing a broken appliance.

If that was the case, she could then creep back down the steps, shake her head in annoyance for overreacting and never tell him that she’d followed him, but as soon as she saw the front door slightly cracked from where it had been kicked in, her heart sunk, knowing that she was right to worry.

Swallowing hard, she ordered herself to get it together so she could get Jay out of whatever mess his big heart got him into. She was a cop; she knew better than to jump to conclusions without evidence.

But then the part of her that quietly dreamed dangerous dreams and lingered on forbidden hopes also knew all the scenarios running through her mind were very real possibilities

The house was deathly quiet, and it made the hair stand up on the back of her neck as she carefully swung the door in and edged into the living room as quietly as possible, her hand never straying far from where she’d hidden her gun.

Hailey was barely a few feet inside when she heard the distinctive click of a safety being flipped off followed by cool metal touching her temple, “Make a move and you die.”

Before she could react, she was pistol-whipped in the back of the head. Her last conscious thought to dump her star and pray that Jay was still alive.

When Jay came to, the first thing he noticed was that his hands were tied behind his back, the second was that he was in some sort of basement and the third was that he wasn’t alone.

His head was pounding, and his vision was blurry, but he would know that blonde hair anywhere.

At first, he thought his mind was playing cruel tricks on him. He hoped his mind was playing cruel tricks on him because why would she be here?

God, she shouldn’t be anywhere near here. Not like this, not laying on the cold, hard floor, unmoving.

He blinked a few times, her facial features partially hidden by blood-matted, blonde hair coming into focus.

His heart stopped and his breath shuttered in his chest. His worst nightmare just came alive right in front of him because it was Hailey. Passed out and tied up a few feet away, out of his reach.

A million questions ran through his head of how, why and who but the most prevailing one was if Hailey was still alive.

Desperate, Jay tugged on his restraints, ignoring the pain it caused his shoulders and wrists. Squeezing his eyelids shut as he strained away from the pole he was tied up to and towards Hailey’s still form.

He had to get to her.

Tears that had nothing to do with the physical agony he was in sprang to his eyes as he realized there was no way he was getting out of the binds he was in. The steel chains were trussed behind his back and around the pole in such a way that he didn’t have much slack if any at all.

Just out of reach. A cruel twist of fate, mocking him. Reminding him that she was always just out of his reach. That she was there with him but not in the way he truly wanted.

Except now, in this moment, it wasn’t metaphorical. And god if that didn’t anger him even more than his cowardness in telling Hailey how he really felt about her.

Because there was nothing he could do. Her skin was unnaturally pale, and he needed to put pressure on her sluggishly bleeding head wound but the damn chains wouldn’t budge. He trained his eyes on her upper body, watching intently.

Was she even breathing? God, he couldn’t tell.

“Hailey!”

She was floating in that state between restlessness and unaware, not sure where her dreams stopped and reality started.

“Hailey!”

Jay’s voice wasn’t uncommon in her dreams, but he wasn’t saying her name in the husky manner that she’d come to assign to her night visions.

“God, Hailey! Please do something--say something. Anything! Please…”

Why was he being so loud? And why was her bed so hard?

“Please, just let me know you’re alive.”

It was the sound of his voice breaking that brought her back to the present.

The text message. Angela Nelson. Following Jay.

Jay. His voice. He was alive, thank god.

A sharp pain shot through head when she tried to open her eyes and that’s when she remembered getting knocked out. She moaned, trying to take stock of her injuries over the pounding that slowly surfaced to accompany the harsh stabbing. Her hands were bound in front of her and her ribs hurt from an injury she doesn’t remember receiving.

“Hailey! Oh, thank god!” She heard Jay croak out followed by a murmured, “She’s alive. She’s alive,” Clearly talking to himself.

And that’s when she realized he must have thought she was dead.

Oh, Jay.

He must be tied up far enough away from her to not be able to check for a pulse. Knowing that if he were able to move, he would be right there next to her.

She redoubled her efforts to open her eyes so she could at least see him and reassure him that she was okay. Maybe figure out where they were and ask if they could manage an escape or if they should sit tight, knowing that Jay had probably already run all the possibilities through his mind.

Groaning, she forced her eyes to open and she found herself thankful for dim lighting, “Jay?” She managed to rasp, trying to figure out exactly where he was in relation to her.

“Yeah, I’m right here Hailey.” He paused, and she could almost hear the way his jaw clenched in frustration at not being able to move, “Can you come over here? I just need—I need you over here. Next to me.”

If they weren’t in such a dire situation, Hailey might have downright swooned at hearing those words fall from his lips after she’d recovered from the shock. As it were, her heart was beating a little too fast in her chest and that feeling in her stomach might just be borderline butterflies.

Clearing her throat, she answered, “Just give me a sec.”

She slowly stretched each of her limbs as much as she could with her hands tied in front of her, carefully checking what hurt and what didn’t before she even attempted to sit up. Once she was satisfied that she wasn’t majorly injured, Hailey turned so that she was lying flat on her back which instantly caused her head to spin and her stomach to churn.

Letting out a low groan, she closed her eyes and willed herself not to be sick as the world slowly stopped spinning.

“You good?” Jay’s worried voice cut through the dizziness.

She sucked in a deep breath and decided it was best not to lie about her condition, “Yeah. Just feeling a little sick. I’m like ninety-five percent sure I have a concussion.”

Before he could respond, Hailey forced herself to sit up, using her abdominal muscles since her hands were tied in front of her. If he said anything to her after that, she didn’t hear it, white noise flooding her eardrums as she desperately tried not to pass out.

The comforting words of “Breathe, Hailey. Just breathe,” reached her as she started to become accustomed with sitting upright, finally feeling confident she could open her eyes without seeing stars.

She was facing Jay, and the first thing she noticed was the blood coating his hairline and running down his neck. His lip was a little bloodied and his eye was slightly swollen, and it made her stomach clench in a way that had nothing to do with her head injury.

Gingerly, she scooted herself over to his side, grateful he was only a few yards away and angered as she realized that the way he was tied up meant he didn’t even have an inch of slack.

When she finally maneuvered herself so she was sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, she couldn’t stop herself from leaning her head on his shoulder. She told herself it was because she was still dizzy, and while she knew that was part of it, she knew she craved the comfort of being physically connected more.

And if Jay resting his head on top of hers was any indication, then he needed that physical touch just as much as she had. Silently reassuring themselves and each other that they were here. Together. Alive.

After a few minutes, Jay broke the silence, “What are you doing here Hailey?”

She couldn’t help the humorless uptick of her lips at the irony of the situation, “Well, I had a bad feeling, so I pinged your phone and followed you in hopes of getting you out of trouble.”

Glancing up at him, she gestured half-heartedly to the basement they were in, “You can see how well that turned out.”

When he didn’t say anything, Hailey lifted her head so she could get a better look at him. Careful eyes roamed over his slightly slumped form, checking him more thoroughly for injuries.

Now that she was closer to him, she could clearly see the beginnings of a black eye and an obviously split lip. The blood from his hairline mingled with blood that seeped from a wound on the back of his head, running sluggishly down the slope of neck and into the collar of his shirt.

She was relieved to not see any blood lower down on his shirt or pants, so she concluded that the most damage had been made to his face. His head injury did concern her slightly but he seemed pretty lucid so she figured it couldn’t be that bad.

Hailey knew it could be a hell of a lot worse, and that thought was what prompted her to raise her bound hands and gently touch his face in the pretense of checking his wounds but really, she was just reassuring herself that he was okay.

A lump formed in her throat when she thought about what she could have woken up to.

Shaking the thought away, she dropped her hands, sighing, “What happened, Jay?”

She felt more than saw his frustration. At himself, at the situation--she wasn’t entirely sure, but she had a pretty good feeling that it might be both.

“I got to Angela’s house and when I knocked, there wasn’t an answer, so I kicked in the door. The next thing I knew I was being hit in the back of the head with a pipe or something and then I woke up here.”

He tilted his head back, resting it on the beam he was tied up to. His eyes fluttered closed and she could see his throat working, “God, Hailey,” He turned to her and she was slightly surprised to see tears swimming in his eyes, “When I saw you lying over there, not moving. I-I thought my heart had been ripped right out of my chest. You scared me so bad. I didn’t know why you were here—I didn’t even know if you were alive.”

The way he was looking at her felt dangerous and she couldn’t help but think that they had been here before. Not even four months ago, standing in the breakroom when the threat of being torn apart was looming over their heads. When she was afraid to really look at him; afraid of what she’d find in his eyes if she did.

But today, right in that moment, when they were tied up and unsure of what the future held, she looked. She looked him right in the eyes and she clearly saw what he’d been telling her every time she’d caught him looking at her from across Molly’s and in every knowing glance they shared in the bullpen.

In the way he always checked with her silently before busting down a door, telling her without words that he had her back. In the way he told her he trusted her only using in his eyes.

And now. He looked at her like she was the very breath he needed to breathe. Like the world could crumble and he wouldn’t even blink.

He was looking at her like he was just realizing what love was; his eyes telling her that he loved her.

He was opening his mouth to say something. She wasn’t sure what—it might have even been those three little words, but before he had a chance to get it out, there was a commotion from the floor above, breaking their gaze.

They were suddenly brought back to steel chains and dirty basements, reminding them of the danger they were in. If they didn’t figure out a plan, their great love story could be over even before it had the chance to begin.

“Do you know why we’re here?” Hailey asked a little shakily, drawing back when she realized how close she was to Jay’s face.

Blinking, he did the same and she could almost see the spell fully breaking as he slipped back into level-headed detective.

“From what I gather, Angela helped some friend of hers steal some drugs. The people who she stole them from didn’t take it too kindly; she called me and now we are here,” He said it in the weary manner of one who had been there and done that way too many times.

And sadly, they had, but this time it was different because they were the ones caught in the crossfire.

Hailey sighed, wincing slightly from her bruised ribs, “Where’s Angela?”

Jay shrugged, “She was here when I woke up. She’d been shot in the side, passed out. The two guys who have us carried her out of here; said something about dropping her off at a hospital because they didn’t want any unnecessary blood on their hands. And besides, it was pretty clear she wouldn’t be able to give them any information. Not in the condition she was in.”

Sighing himself, he turned his head towards her, “I don’t what they ended up doing with her, and frankly I don’t care at the moment. I’m more worried about getting us out of here.”

That wasn’t like him to just disregard someone he’d been trying to help—or anyone for that matter—for his own gain, but she had a sneaking suspicion that he really meant he was more worried about getting her out of here.

He was always putting others before himself. Her especially now that she thought about it, and she knew it was just another way of him telling her he loved her.

As soon as they got out of this mess, they needed to have a talk.

“Alright,” She nodded, “So what’s the plan?”

Jay’s heart swelled. Those words, the sure look on her face, the absolute trust she held in her eyes. She was looking to him for guidance, entrusting him to get them out of this without even one ounce of hesitation.

The love he felt for her only seemed to grow with each passing second and he was tired of hiding it. He’d intended on telling her, showing her exactly how he felt, but then he was reminded of the situation he’d dragged her into and the need to protect her outweighed anything else.

And it was because he loved her so much that he needed her to be safe. If anything happened to her—

He knew there was no coming back from that.

Once they got out of here, he was going to tell her everything he’d been harboring in his heart for what felt like ages. He was going to lay it all on the table; that she was it for him and even though he was terrified at the thought of losing her, he was going to work his ass off to make this work. To show her that they could do this.

He knew he had made mistakes in the past, especially regarding his love life and he knew that being together and working together had its fair share of challenges, but he wasn’t about to let her go. Not when he finally found the girl he knew he was meant to be with.

The sound of a heavy steel door clanging shut snapped him out of his thoughts and if he subconsciously tried to inch in front of Hailey despite his restraints, she didn’t call him out on it.

“They don’t know we’re cops, and you know nothing,” Hailey heard Jay rapidly whisper to her before turning back in time to see their two captors appear at the bottom of the steps.

The taller of the two made a beeline straight towards them and Hailey could feel Jay tensing up, using his broad shoulders in an attempt to shield her. It didn’t do much good because the next thing Hailey knew, she was being jerked up, a gun pressed to her temple.

“You are going to tell me right now where those drugs are,” The man’s words were harsh, his breath was heavy on her ear and she could smell the vodka on him.

Jay looked panicked but in control as his jaw clenched in barely restrained fury. She couldn’t help but notice how hot he looked, and she immediately kicked herself for even thinking it under these circumstances.

“She doesn’t know anything,” He practically growled, “Let her go.”

Vodka man brandished his gun menacingly towards Jay before returning it to the side of her head, “She was at that house! There was a gun in her waistband! She knows something!”

Hailey kept quiet, trying to weigh the risks of attempting to knock him out but she decided against doing anything while the other guy was lurking in the shadows. With Jay tied up and unable to move, she knew she wouldn’t be able to take both of them down, especially while tied up herself.

The words that fell out of Jay’s mouth next made her heart beat wildly, and not in a good way, “I’ll tell you all I know, okay? Just take me and leave her alone!”

But that was a lie. He didn’t know anything, and she knew once these guys figured that out, there was no telling what they would do to him. He flashed her a look, pleading with her to be silent, to let him do this for her.

She didn’t want to, but she knew that the best chance of their survival was to do what Jay was asking. So, she stayed silent, glaring when Vodka Guy threw her down and unchained Jay from the pole, leaving his arms bound before hauling him up.

Hailey watched as Jay was shoved towards the steps, his eyes never leaving hers until he was out of her sight.

A series of muffled cries suddenly broke the relative silence she’d been sitting in for the past hour and it took all of her might to not scream out his name as she desperately fought with the chains wrapped around her wrists and feet. There were tears brimming in her eyes and she could feel her heart shattering.

They were low, guttural shouts filled with pain and she could only imagine what they were doing to him to make him sound like that. Jay was the toughest person she knew, had endured things beyond her comprehension and hearing him like that scared her.

And knowing that he was in pain for her and that there was nothing she could do about it made her physically sick.

But more than that, she was livid at the people doing this to him. How dare they touch a hair on his head? How dare they do this to him? That this was to be his payment for doing something so kind, so good in a world filled with hate.

Jay was a good man—a great cop—with a golden-heart that wouldn’t let anyone stand in his way of what he thought was right and that was what she loved most about him.

She loved him. And she wasn’t afraid to admit any more.

If this whole experience had taught her anything it would be to not hold back. Life is short, and she knew that. She’d been in similar spots before and had these same profound revelations about how precious life was, but today felt different.

Because the truth was, he had her heart, completely and irrevocably. He had it before she even had the chance to say no and the way she loved him made her question whether she’d ever truly loved anyone before.

She’d been scared before. Falling in love with another partner; just falling in love in general. It was risky and scary and honestly downright terrifying. But what she felt for Jay, she was starting to realize was worth the risk.

Life wasn’t without risks, and experience taught her that a lot of the time she ended getting hurt when she took them, but right here, right now, listening to Jay literally telling her and showing her how much he loved her in every scream, she knew the potential of what they could have wasn’t pointless or without reason.

It was the whole damn universe.

And if someone asked her right here and right now, she would give up her spot in Intelligence, her career, her life, everything—all without a moment’s hesitation, and she would do it all for Jay.

Being thrust into this situation with him has removed any old inhibitions and the lines that were being carefully walked had been completely eradicated.

The whisperings of her heart that had once told her she should give it a try, that he felt the same were now roaring inside of her with words of “I told you so.”

And it was ripping her heart apart.

After all, they say actions speak louder than words and right now, Jay was screaming.

It was silent now, and it had been for a little over an hour. Hailey was starting to think she’d rather hear Jay be in pain than sitting in the quiet, wondering if he was unconscious, bleeding out, or worse, already dead.

The only thing that had kept her from going totally down the rabbit hole of worst-case scenarios was attempting to get out of the chains she was in. She was grateful that she hadn’t been tied to the pole as Jay had been, giving her the mobility to scoot around the floor in hopes of finding something that could help her out of her restraints.

She was done waiting for the team. She needed to get them out of there as quickly as possible even if she didn’t know exactly how she was going to go about it yet.

A few minutes into her search, she’d found a file and she’d been diligently sawing back and forth at the weakest part of the rusty chains for last hour or so. It seemed to be working, and she felt like she was finally getting to a point where she could just break them by applying some outside pressure.

The sound of a door banging shut caused her head to snap up and she quickly hid the file in her back pocket. What she saw then she knew would be haunting her dreams for years to come.

The nicer of their two captors had Jay’s arm slung around his shoulder, practically dragging him down the steps before he deposited him in a heap beside her.

“What did you do to him?” Hailey couldn’t help but gasp out, already moving to shield Jay protectively.

He didn’t say anything, and she could see the remorse in his eyes as he headed back up the stairs and out the only door to the basement. As soon as he was gone, Hailey turned to Jay, fighting back the tears at seeing him in this condition.

There was significantly more blood in his hair, his lips were split in multiple places and she was pretty sure he had two black eyes, but that wasn’t what looked the worst. His shirt was torn, and she could see significant burn marks from a taser dotting his chest along with what looked like shallow cuts from a knife.

“Jay,” She whispered brokenly, hoping to get some kind of reaction from him, “Jay, babe.” It fell from her lips effortlessly and she didn’t even think twice about what she had said as she moved to use her body weight to break her chains.

As soon as she could use her arms and legs, she knelt beside him to cradle his face and used the pads of her thumbs to stroke his cheekbones, “Hey Jay. Look at me, baby. Look at me.” Not waiting for a response, she quickly started going over his body to check for other injuries all the while murmuring his name over and over again.

This time she gasped out a sob, all the air leaving her chest as she rucked up his shirt and found the distinctive welts from being whipped covering his torso and back.

“Oh my God, Jay,” She cried softly, wanting to provide him with some kind of relief but afraid to do anything, not wanting to cause him any more pain, “What did they do to you?”

She was surprised when he moaned, not expecting a response as he let out a raspy “I’m fine”.

Hailey couldn’t help but let out a watery chuckle, her hands going back to carefully frame his face as she caught a glimpse of those vibrant green eyes she loved so much, “Only you would say that in the condition you’re in.”

“Kev called undercover. The team’s close,” Even talking seemed to cause him pain, but he powered through knowing she needed to know this, “Found the drugs. They’ll be here soon.”

It was spoken brokenly, but she got the message, and she couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. There was no way she would be able to get him out of here by herself with him so injured.

Why did he have to be so adamant about her not knowing anything? He didn’t know anything either, but he’d somehow kept their captors from really harming her.

“Hailey,” Jay practically wheezed, catching her attention as he opened his eyes to find hers, “I can’t sit like this. It-it hurts too much.”

She barely managed to stop from crying again, biting her lip as she willed herself to stay strong for his sake. For him to admit he was in pain she knew he must be in a lot of it.

“Oh God, Jay,” Hailey swallowed back another wave of tears as she helped him move in a more comfortable position. She ended up half cradling him, his head resting on the swell of her breast and a protective arm around his shoulders to keep his back up off the ground.

She ran a gentle hand through his still miraculously styled hair, rocking him slightly and in all honesty, at the moment, she felt more like a woman sick with worry over the man she loved than a badass cop looking out for her partner.

Hailey’s not sure if she’s ever cried this much in her entire life or worried so deeply.

“What were you thinking Jay? Why would you offer yourself up like that?” She whispered to fill the silence, a couple of tears escaping on their own accord.

His gaze found hers. Strong, steady and certain in spite of all the pain, “I wasn’t about to let them hurt you. Not on my watch.”

Jay shifted in her arms, wincing slightly, “It’s my job to protect you, Hailey. And that doesn’t mean I don’t know you can protect yourself because you can—you’re a freaking badass, but it’s more than that,” Pausing, he reached up to tenderly brush away her tears with the pad of his thumb before whispering, “it’s because I love you and I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt if I can prevent it.”

Before she even had a chance to respond, the tell-tale sound of the metal door shutting prompted Jay to move faster than she thought possible with his injuries. She scrambled up after him, but she could tell he wanted to keep her behind him in an attempt to protect her.

If it was anyone other than Jay, Hailey would balk at the notion, but she knew that’s just who he was and how he operated. It was how he protected the people he loved. She knew it wasn’t some caveman idea that she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself. So, she stayed behind him, letting him do what he does just as he let her be the badass she was any other day.

Except for this moment when she was terrified, worried about Jay who by all accounts shouldn’t be standing.

“Where’s our father!?” The drunk one exclaimed angrily, stomping into the basement, “You said your people were getting our drugs and now my father’s not answering my calls!”

He was focused on Jay and Hailey’s eyes were drawn to the pipe she’d found when she found the file, cursing at herself for not bringing it with her to Jay’s side. It was only a few feet away; if she could just get there before their captor noticed, she’d be able to knock him out.

His reactions were slow because of the alcohol in his system so that’s what she was banking on, but she also knew it made him more dangerous and unpredictable.

The gun pointed in Jay’s face made her nervous and she was hoping to get out of here without either of them getting shot but if someone had to take a bullet, it was going to be her for going for the pipe.

It happened so fast. There were two loud pops and suddenly Jay was on the floor in front of her.

She could vaguely make out Adam calling her name as he dashed across the room, knocking Vodka guy’s gun out of his hand but all Hailey was focused on was Jay, on the ground, bleeding. She dropped to her knees, hands immediately going to the gunshot wound in his shoulder and yelled at Adam to call an ambulance.

Kim was suddenly in front of her, kneeling at Jay’s other side and Hailey looked up, her hands still keeping pressure as tears welled in her eyes. Meeting her friend’s gaze, she whispered out brokenly, “He just took that bullet for me.”

“What the hell, Will?” Hailey exclaimed in disgust, pissed off about the entire situation.

The red-headed doctor looked about as exasperated as she felt and part of her felt bad about the harried look in his eyes, but she was getting anxious and he wasn’t cooperating with her, so she didn’t feel too bad.

“Hailey, it’s against hospital rules,” Will stressed for what felt like the one-hundredth time. He shook his head; and he thought Jay was stubborn.

If possible, the frustrated look on Hailey’s face grew as she crossed her arms, somehow looking very formidable sitting cross-legged in the middle of a hospital bed wearing nothing but a hospital gown.

“Rules are overrated,” She stated through a clenched jaw.

Will’s eyebrows rose, “Uh. Not gonna lie. It’s a little alarming to hear that coming from a detective.”

She just glared harder and Will was starting to realize he had nothing on a pissed Hailey Upton.

He wasn’t sure if they were engaged in a battle of wills or what, but he was afraid of what she might do if he broke their gaze and looked away. He was honestly a little afraid to blink.

He’d gotten to know Hailey pretty well because of her partnership with Jay, but he wasn’t quite sure he realized just how fierce she could be until this moment.

How fierce she could be when it came to his brother.

Will had always noticed the concern and the protectiveness she’d had when it came to Jay’s injuries on the job. He’d thought the nature of their jobs was the reason for this but over time he’d started to wonder if it was because there was something more there.

Today, he stopped wondering. It was clear there was something there and when Hailey turned her head to conceal the tears welling up in her eyes, he wondered what exactly went down between her and his brother in that basement.

She turned back to him, the determination and love clear in those glassy blue eyes he knew his brother had fallen for, “Will, I have to be with him.”

Still, he hesitated, “Hailey…”

And just like that, the angry pissed off look was back on her face despite the tears in her eyes, “I’ll have you know that I can make your life a living hell, Will Halstead.”

The threat was clear in the way her jaw was clenched but he could see her resolve starting to waver and he just didn’t have the heart to argue with her anymore, hospital rules be damned.

His head dropped in a resigned nod, “Alright. You win,” The relief that wafted off of her was palpable and he couldn’t help but give her a small smile even as he tried to look stern, “But, you have to take it easy because you’re a patient too. Also, if I get fired, I’m blaming it on you.”

If there was thing Hailey Upton was capable of, it would be getting her way when she wanted it.

Maybe it was all that time spent manipulating suspects in giving her the information she needed or maybe it stemmed from wheedling sweets and trinkets and whatever the hell else she wanted out of her older brothers when she was a kid, but usually, when it came right down to it, she was always able to convince people to hand her the requests she’d made on a silver platter.

And that’s how she found herself sitting on her own hospital bed that had been rolled into Jay’s ICU room for the foreseeable future.

As soon as the nurses that had transported her from her room were out of sight, Hailey very carefully got out of her bed, maneuvering around the IV going into her hand and gently slid in beside Jay. He was asleep but she knew from Will that he had already been awake, asking for her first thing as he came out from under anesthesia.

She was extra cautious to not upset the various lines running from his body and to machines monitoring his vitals as she settled in bedside his warm body, gently resting her head on his uninjured shoulder.

Hailey didn’t know how long she’d been laying there when she felt Jay shift, his voice slightly horse, “You know, I might start enjoying hospital stays if they mean I wake up next to you.”

Lifting her head, she blinked back tears for what felt like the millionth time in the last twenty-four hours. He was staring at her like she was his whole world, and he was just realizing what life was.

She wanted to kiss him. Was planning on it, but first she had to know, “Jay, why on earth would you take that bullet for me?”

Hailey was pretty sure she knew the answer. She was pretty sure it’s the same answer she would give him if she’d just taken a bullet meant for him, but she needed to hear it and not when he was laying on a dirty basement floor, writhing in pain.

She wasn’t sure laying on a hospital bed in a hospital right after he’d been shot was any better but it’s what they had, and he seemed pretty coherent for someone who had just had major surgery.

“Because I love you,” He said it so simply, so matter of fact and she marveled at the way it was so easy between them now.

And all it took was being kidnapped together.

Something happened between them while chained together in that basement. Something they had both been fighting for a while now and maybe it seemed sudden or rushed but Hailey knew in her heart of hearts that she and Jay were meant to be together.

Love wasn’t something you forced. It was something you had to wait for, maybe even had to get hurt along the way to really understand, but she now knew it was worth the wait.

“I love you too,” She almost whimpered before kissing him.

It wasn’t lusty, but it had an almost frantic urgency about it as they both silently acknowledged they could have very easily not had this moment.

He kissed her like he thought he’d never see her again and he told her yet again with his actions that he would follow her to the ends of the universe and to the very last of their tomorrows.

She knew they still had a lot to talk about. The things he especially went through in that basement, but she knew that could wait because they were alive and that was enough.

Because there was no doubt in either of their minds now.

They were right where they belonged.

Leave a comment! I’d love to know what y’all thought!!

#upsteadlovesongs2021 #chicago pd #hailey upton #jay halstead #upstead #fanfiction

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 3 years

Text

It Takes Me All the Way

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my fic for my @starkerfestivals summer BINGO “flower shop au” square. The following idea hit me in the head a couple of days ago & I couldn’t let it go until the whole thing was written. Here’s my bingo card - if you see something on there you might want written, shoot me a message!!! Word Count: 11.5K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case?

Summary:

'For the next half an hour, Peter learned about flower language and the subtle way to artfully layer flowers so the colors blended meaningfully together. Peter didn’t retain too much about the flowers themselves – they were beautiful and coordinated perfectly, but Tony out shone them all. He was obviously in his element; the simple way the information fell from his mouth spoke of years of study and tons of hands-on knowledge. Not only was the man smart, he had an eye for style and created little living masterpieces without much thought.

By the time Peter worked up the courage to make any sort of move, they were at the register, seconds away from a complete transaction. He was in too deep to let the spark between them go another time. Steeling himself for whatever might come, Peter took a deep breath and leapt. “Hey, before I go – would you like to go out with me sometime?"'

Or: the one where Tony's a florist and Peter kind of digs that.

Read on AO3 here.

----

After taking home the third, consecutive NCA Championship title, Peter craved a tame summer. Unlike the rest of his teammates, he had no dreams of furthering his cheerleading career by becoming a coach; while everyone else flocked to the NCA cheer champ coaching positions, Peter tried his hardest to create some distance between himself and the sport.

Of course, that was easier said than done when his very best friend was also a teammate. Since the day MJ pulled him off the gymnastics mat and thrust him not so gently into the world of cheer in seventh grade, Peter never looked back – not to gymnastics or the people he left behind. He didn’t naturally fit in with anyone, but with MJ by his side and an incredible amount of athleticism, high school passed by in a whirlwind of football games, competitions, and a rich education Peter clung to. Being smart was a way out of the conservative little town that would never accept the truth of who Peter truly was.

When Purdue became an option for the both of them, Peter immediately understood moving to Indiana was the next step in life’s adventure. It wasn’t the big city that he always imagined he’d escape to, but Peter couldn’t argue with a full ride academic scholarship and a spot earned on the cheer team. As a male with tumbling experience and a shocking amount of strength for his size, Peter didn’t have to wonder about his spot on the team – he’d been leading teams to competition wins for years. Stepping out of the narrow-minded world of Springfield, Missouri was the only thing that mattered; the ability to do what he wanted without worrying about where the money came from to do it – that was just a delightful bonus.

Despite the challenges of college athletics and a philosophy major, Peter managed to keep his close friendship with MJ. They’d been a stunting pair for ages and their similarities made it easy to not only be around each other but stay tight knit in their connection. Going through so many of the trials of growing up together, Peter didn’t know what life would be like without her. After coming out and receiving nothing but a hug and a shy “me too”, their bond was cemented – made permanent in a way that something shared tied one person to another.

Their undying friendship and ridiculous commitment to each other was how he found himself balls deep in wedding planning, instead of relaxing in the peace and quiet of his one-bedroom apartment, playing video games and reading all the books he didn’t get to crunch out during the busy school year. MJ didn’t even bother asking him to be her ‘man’ of honor – after popping the question to Darcy, she simply sent him a list of things to do and dove right in.

Between bachelorette parties, bridal showers, and the seemingly impossible hunt for the best bridesmaid’s dresses, Peter hadn’t spent more than a couple days of the break on his own. Though he loved the fuck out of MJ and her soon-to-be wife, he couldn’t wait for the wedding to come and go. A little peace and alone time was exactly what he needed.

Finally, after a week of long nights and last-minute errands, the big day was upon them. The beautiful ranch venue radiated with a rich sunshine, basking the place in a lucky sort of golden glow. Since he didn’t have to spend his entire morning trapped in a makeup chair, Peter got to enjoy the beautiful weather firsthand as he contributed to the set up and decorating. Aside from helping MJ get into the admittedly cool pant suit she planned to wear, Peter’s time was his own until an hour before the ceremony.

Grinning at the thought, Peter pulled out one of the reception hall chairs and sat down heavily. He relaxed into the comfortable wood, reaching up to run a hand through his formidable curls. They were sans gel at the moment; his fingers sailed through the silky strands with ease.

Peter wasn’t aware he closed his eyes until a loud clatter had them blinking open in surprise. Swiftly turning towards the noise, Peter stopped in his tracks at the sight in front of him.

A big gray vase was the source of the noise, there was no doubt about that the second Peter spotted it. What completely took his breath away, or maybe who, was the man holding said vase. Peter saw tanned arms that were toned to perfection right off the bat. It was obvious at first glance that the owner of those limbs worked outside with his hands frequently. The lithe muscles and glorious golden skin tone spoke more of manual work than physical exercise. With his eyes travelling up firm forearms and the swell of a built bicep, Peter noticed the man’s hair next. Tamed by a plain white dad hat, an abundance of unruly curls flipped under the edges of the brim and sides. Peter imagined a flowing head of dark brunette hair he could easily slip his fingers into the depths of.

As if the man knew Peter was staring, he turned towards Peter’s table, an intrigued look on his face. A face that, after taking in the rest of the stranger’s glorious beauty, didn’t seem fair. Well-kept facial hair outlined perfect lips pulled into a knowing smirk. Rich, honey-golden eyes were just visible under the brim of the man’s sweat-stained hat. They seemed to pierce Peter right in the chest, like their unblinking nature dug under his skin and saw everything he tried so desperately to hide. The feeling was unnerving yet so exhilarating all the same. Though he felt so very exposed, Peter wanted nothing more than to narrow the space and get to know the handsome stranger.

Luckily, his chance came a couple hours later.

To stop himself from shamelessly flirting, Peter hightailed it out of the reception hall the second he could, using a check up on MJ as a guise for his obvious escape. Most of his friends were exactly where he left them at the start of the morning – it was a marvel that anything got done when they all got together. After braving the makeup talk and putting out a few emotional fires, Peter’s reprieve came in the form of a man of honor errand.

With MJ’s credit card in hand, Peter made his way to the front of the building where the florist was waiting. He’d been so glad to get out of the bridal suite that he didn’t stop to think about the stranger and the beautiful floral arrangement that’d been in his hand or to make the connection between the two. For the second time that day, Peter tripped over himself when the man came into view. Now that an actual need to speak to him was in sight, Peter didn’t know if he could make his mouth work to take the chance.

Recognition was clear on the florist’s face – though they didn’t know one another, it was hard to forget the very long, very obvious stare Peter was caught in. Those utterly kissable lips were upturned, the pinch around the man’s eyes from the grin making him all the more attractive. Rolling his eyes at the thought (like he needed to be any more attractive), Peter tried to school his features and return the smile with one of his own.

“Hi! I’m Peter, MJ’s man of honor. She sent me to square up the bill for the flowers,” Peter said in greeting. As the space between them narrowed down, Peter nervously reached out, his free hand suddenly taking up the space between them.

A surprisingly soft hand slipped into his a moment later – the touch was firm and efficient, only lingering a second longer than usually appropriate. “Nice to meet you, Peter. Please let MJ know that I really enjoyed the challenge of the flower choices. Geraniums are hard to come by this late in the season.”

Pulling away, despite the desperate want to have the man’s hands all over him, Peter nodded in understanding – most of both MJ and Darcy’s choices were high maintenance and unique. The planning of every step along the way had been an absolute bear. “That’s MJ for you,” Peter agreed with a light chuckle. “We’ve been scrambling around the last week or so trying to get all the details right.”

There was a shared moment of silence where the two simply smiled at each other. The florist seemed just as lost as Peter, the joint look of discomfort and wonder more telling than any words ever could be. For Peter, each second that passed was a small gift he gluttonously got to unwrap until the magic was broken.

“It’s her big day, she should have what she wants,” Tony finally replied, the words and a red blush breaking the silence. “I like the unique stuff, anyway – keeps the job interesting.”

Without missing a beat, a paper invoice was thrust in his direction. “I took out the delivery fee from the total since I was in the area already.”

After that, it didn’t take more than a couple of minutes to complete the transaction – the florist worked swiftly, his fingers nimble and knowledgeable in every movement he made as he swiped MJ’s card and handed it quickly back to Peter. The brush of their fingers in the exchange seemed purposeful, though – especially with the smirk and red blush that followed.

Caught up in how brilliant the look was, Peter didn’t realize there was nothing keeping him there until the shuffling of feet brought the reality of the situation back with a vengeance. As much as he wanted to stay and chat, or ask for a number, or even a name, Peter knew the time wasn’t right. He already felt so caught up – actually having access to his preoccupation wouldn’t be good for his focus. It was MJ’s day; he owed it to her to keep his shit together and make every second of it the very best.

Looking up, Peter shot the other man a large grin before lifting a hand, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “I better get back,” Peter started awkwardly, “but thank you – for helping make MJ’s day so beautiful.”

With a nod, the florist pocketed his phone and took off towards the parking lot. Peter watched him walk away just long enough to catch the glance over work-firm shoulders. Hazel and brown met for a moment before Peter forced himself to walk away – a large part of him wanted to sprint across the black top to stop the gorgeous man from leaving. Something in the pit of his chest was pulsing with life; the feeling was so foreign that Peter pushed it down and quickly ran in the opposite direction, instead.

Peter got back to the bridal suite in a wonky haze – so much so that he didn’t even realize he walked through the door until MJ’s voice broke through his rampaging thoughts. “Did you get everything squared away with Tony?”

Turning towards her, Peter tilted his head, a crease in his brow appearing in his confusion. “Tony?” Peter questioned as he made his way over to the big table in the center of the room to deposit both the invoice and MJ’s credit card.

“Tony – the florist. I sent you to pay the bill. Please tell me you didn’t get lost along the way.” MJ shot him a knowing look, her hazel eyes blazing with affection. “He was a great help these last couple of months – matching all the colors would’ve been impossible without him.”

His brain halted for a second, the organ doing nothing but processing the fact that his handsome stranger now had a name. Recalling the beautiful face, Peter figured the name Tony fit the man pretty perfectly. With that knowledge, it was quickly becoming obvious that his focus was already shot – Tony with toned arms and a delectably deep voice already took up space there, just waiting to distract Peter at the worst possible time.

Like that moment, where MJ was staring at him with growing concern, waiting for a simple yes or no to her easily answerable question. Peter shot her an embarrassed grin when he got himself back under control. Sheepishly, he reached up to run a hand through his hair. “All is well. He told me to tell you he enjoyed the challenge. Oh, and he nixed the delivery fee – said he was already in the area.” He tried to sound cool as he spoke, to not give his interest away. Yet he knew almost immediately he wasn’t successful – Peter heard his own excitement as the words bounced around in his ears.

“So it’s like that,” MJ said, looking at him much more critically now.

“Like what?” Peter shot back, refusing to look her directly in the eye. She already caught the scent – the second he gave her the satisfaction of seeing the truth in his eyes, Peter would never hear the end of it. Regardless of the very important fact that Peter, despite wanting to more than ever, didn’t even pursue the obvious and very mutual interest.

Instead of pushing, MJ surprisingly let a knowing smile overtake her face.

“I see you Peter Parker.”

Luckily, the hustle and bustle of pre-wedding preparations and nerves that were inescapable, swept the subject right off the table a moment later. Peter happily helped MJ make her finishing touches in preparation for finally meeting her wife at the end of the aisle. Getting so swept up in it all, Peter allowed himself to forget the hazel eyed man for the rest of the evening. MJ and Darcy looked so happy – it was hard to see passed anything other than their beaming smiles and the bright future waiting for them.

----

The next few weeks passed by in a flash. Peter finally got some time to himself and reveled in it, taking advantage of every second of solitary freedom he could purge himself on before his final season began. Movies, books, and his favorite video games were the only thing Peter allowed himself to think about (and Tony, so many of his thoughts were about the gorgeous florist). He even went as far as to bar MJ and Darcy from the apartment when they got back from their honeymoon – it was the least they could do after running him ragged with errands and things over the previous few months. The last thing he wanted to deal with was the bombardment of newly wed grossness; it’d been some time since Peter felt the luscious caress of love against his heart and soul – and jealousy just didn’t look good on him.

When his self-imposed isolation came to an end, Peter begrudgingly got back into a suitable routine. Though cheer practice was different without MJ there, Peter easily sunk back into the drills and full body workouts that came after an entire summer off on their own. Hayley, their coach extraordinaire, pushed them hard in the beginning – it was the best way to filter out those who wouldn’t make it when the season really got started and competition prep took over all of their lives.

Once his muscles got used to the severe beating he took on a daily basis, Peter was more than ready for the year to start. Football games and the atmosphere that came with being a Boiler were a lot of fun; and with his decreased workload as a fifth-year senior, Peter planned to enjoy the easy-going nature of spirit and poms and comradery before the teeth came out and everyone’s battle armor settled into place. When competition season started, the team’s overall atmosphere and driving motivations changed.

Of course, just when Peter thought things were going just the way they should, karma came around to prove him wrong. After a long practice the week before the semester started, one of their flyers fell from a stunt, completely unaware of her contact with the ground’s effect until someone on the other side of the mat screamed. The sight, when Peter allowed himself to look, turned his stomach – he’d never seen a dislocated hip in person before and hoped to never do so again.

After the trauma of having the paramedics all over their turf, the team was given a couple of days off to recuperate. Peter and the rest of the squad planned to take advantage of the freedom by visiting Macy, who ended up having to have emergency surgery to save both her leg and her life. Though he knew a bouquet of flowers wouldn’t change the fact that she would never be able to cheer ever again, Peter figured it was a nice touch and planned to have one made before heading to the hospital.

Googling the closest florist, Peter was surprised to find a shop so near to campus. Many of the businesses surrounding Purdue were food joints or bars that were guaranteed to get a lot of steady business during the semester and over the summer. He wondered, just for a moment, how such a random store managed to survive the college population.

It took one look at the place to understand why the shop fit exactly where it was. Instead of the old lady feel he assumed he’d find, Peter stepped in front of a large windowed building with intricate flower arrangements filling the visible shelves. On the far side of the door was a mural of the Purdue P surrounded by all types of flora. The word Stark’s was camouflaged within the swarm of vines and greenery throughout the painting. It was well done and in the perfect, eye-catching spot.

A small bell over the door rang as Peter walked through it – at least one of the cliches in his mind was accurate. Grinning at the thought, Peter let his legs carry him further into the store, his head on a swivel to look at all the beautiful foliage placed strategically from one wall to the other. Though he knew nothing of plants, Peter understood the art of drawing attention – he participated in a sport that perfected it. From the placement to the intrigue, whoever owned the shop knew exactly what to do to draw a person in.

Peter stopped his exploration when a recognizable voice echoed throughout the space – “I’ll be right with you.” Upon hearing the timber and depth that haunted Peter every night since MJ’s wedding, he almost turned around and walked right back out of the store. He wasn’t equipped for the gorgeous man and his distracting smile and eyes and shapely ass.

Before he could make his feet move or even think, Tony and his inarguable gorgeousness walked in through the back door. His hands were covered in dirty gloves, a newly potted plant in the crook of his elbow. A denim apron covered a plain white t-shirt and black jeans that peaked out the bottom. At the sight of him, Peter had to force himself to keep his mouth closed and the pace of his heart under control – much like the last time he enjoyed the view, Peter wanted to bound across the distance and intimately get to know the other man.

Met with a smile when their eyes locked, Peter reminded himself to remain calm and smile back, to actually act like a human person with thoughts and the ability to actually articulate them. He came in here for a reason, walking out of the store with anything but the arrangement he wanted to bring to the hospital was unacceptable.

Tony, upon recognizing him, took the first step towards intelligible conversation.

“Peter, right? It’s nice to see you in here! How’d the wedding go?”

Blushing at the familiarity, Peter dipped his head and took a deep breath, hoping to collect himself enough to actually reply back. “Hi, yes. Peter. It’s nice to see you, too. I was surprised to see a flower shop in the middle of college central, but your place seems to fit in really nicely. No wonder MJ was pulled in,” Peter said in reply, getting the words out all at once to make sure they all saw the light of day. “The wedding was beautiful. Both brides are blissfully happy, and your floral arrangements were the topic of several conversations I had that night. You do good work, Tony.”

Peter’s heart stopped when Tony tilted his head back into a laugh a moment later. How did someone look so sexy doing something so base? No matter what happened, Peter knew he’d never understand such a thing. To cover up his reaction, Peter added his own laugh to the mix – the sounds harmonious in the empty shop.

“Yeah, I’m sure my flowers were a hot topic of conversation, especially with those beautiful women in the room. Thanks for the kind words, though,” Tony mumbled through a laugh. As he spoke, Tony reached up to brush an errant curl from his forehead – without the hat, the hair on Tony’s head looked unruly and all over the place, untamed and absolutely beautiful. The move left the smallest remnant of dirt on his skin, the black flecks of soil like little calling cards with Peter’s name on them. His fingers itched to reach up and brush them away. Tony’s next words shook him of the thought – “What brings you in today?”

“One of my teammates fell and injured herself pretty severely. We, as a team, decided to rub in the fact that she’ll never join us on the mat again by visiting her now that she’s out of the ICU. I figured some pretty flowers might soften the blow,” Peter explained, coloring at the blunt honesty that trickled from his mouth.

Tony looked intrigued, the other man completely unfazed by Peter’s word choice and candid nature. “Must be a dangerous sport if you guys are nursing career ending injuries.” He signaled for Peter to follow him with a swift flick of his hand.

“I’ve seen some pretty intense injuries in my long cheerleading career, for sure. People flying through the air, and all that. I wouldn’t call the sport in general dangerous, per say – I’d say the expectations we have to meet are what’s dangerous. The look, the difficulty of the stunts we make our bodies do – it’s demanding,” Peter remarked, following a couple steps behind Tony as they walked.

“Sounds misogynistic as hell.”

Laughing at the truth of Tony’s statement, Peter nodded enthusiastically. His heart felt warm from the idea of the random stranger in front of him understanding his struggles better than May and Ben ever could. Tony didn’t know him, and yet Peter couldn’t remember ever feeling so seen. “Oh, it is. The beauty standards are unbelievable and if you’re a male in the cheer world, forget it – you’re fodder for mockery and intense judgement. I fit the stereotype and even I can’t catch a break.”

“What’s the stereotype?” Tony asked with a soft tilt of his head and curiousness in his eyes.

They stopped suddenly then – the space between them was narrowed down to a couple of feet with an abundance of plants surrounding them on both sides. If he took a step or two forward, Peter wouldn’t have too much trouble reaching out and touching Tony’s beautifully tanned skin like he so desperately wanted to. It took too much effort to stop himself from doing exactly that. How exhausting.

Without waiting another beat or giving himself another moment to eye kissable lips, Peter uttered the answer with subtle breathlessness – “Gay. Flaming homosexual is usually what people attribute to the men of the cheer world.”

Color travelled up Tony’s cheeks, his lips quirking ever so slightly. He took his time answering, the man obviously thinking through his reply before blurting whatever he had to say into the universe. “Huh. That’s interesting, considering football players don’t go a play without touching each other on the ass.” Tony stopped for a second, making sure to catch Peter’s eye. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Peter answered immediately, the words coming out of his mouth without thought. “Its been my life since 7th grade.”

“I guess that’s all that matters, then,” Tony replied softly, a small, familiar smile on his lips. “Now back to your friend – what’s her favorite color?”

For the next half an hour, Peter learned about flower language and the subtle way to artfully layer flowers so the colors blended meaningfully together. Peter didn’t retain too much about the flowers themselves – they were beautiful and coordinated perfectly, but Tony out shone them all. He was obviously in his element; the simple way the information fell from his mouth spoke of years of study and tons of hands-on knowledge. Not only was the man smart, he had an eye for style and created little living masterpieces without much thought.

For what it was worth, the look of surprise that crossed over Tony’s face was brief. It made Peter’s breath catch in anticipation – for the first time in their short acquaintance, Peter felt uncertain. The feeling quickly passed, however; Tony’s face split into a beaming smile, the earlier surprise so easily replaced with seemingly genuine happiness.

“Yeah, I’d love to. I close up shop around 6 – are you free tonight?” Tony’s cheeks were stained with a rapidly darkening, gorgeous blush, hazel eyes shining.

Peter couldn’t remember what the next ten minutes entailed, let alone that evening – yet, whatever it was, he’d happily reschedule. There wasn’t a single thing that would stop him from saying yes to whatever Tony suggested. “I am. How about I meet you out front at 6:30? I’ll call Tasha and grab us a table for 7.”

Tony nodded, reaching across the counter towards Peter’s phone. “That sounds good. I’ll give you my number in case something changes. I’ve got a greenhouse out back and tend to forget myself. I sometimes lose track of time.”

Completely taken by every new thing he learned about Tony, Peter opened the phone and pushed it in Tony’s direction without hesitation. He didn’t expect the older man to be so forward – then again, Peter wasn’t all that surprised, either; Tony owned, operated, and supplied a successful business – he had to know what he was doing to some extent.

Watching with a delirious sort of haze, Peter followed as Tony’s fingers enter his number, then hit the green button to call himself. A phone on the back counter buzzed a couple of times before Tony ended the call and slid Peter’s phone back to him. “See you later, Peter. Tell your friend I wish her a speedy recovery.”

Numb hands grabbed the arrangement off the counter – Peter raised it towards Tony in a mock solute. “Until tonight, then.” Peter muttered the words excitedly. “Bye, Tony.”

He forced himself to keep his head down in hopes of actually making it out of the store. Peter wanted to turn around and look goofily at Tony – now that he knew his feelings were reciprocated, there was nothing stopping his desire from slipping out. Since the wedding, Peter forced the thought of strong arms and bright eyes from his head, just to be haunted by Tony’s beauty when he closed his eyes and let sleep take hold. His subconscious wasn’t on board with suppressing his urges – the fact that karma played a role made the rightness he felt even more valid.

Tony wanted him too.

His visit with Macy and the team was an immediate drag to his mood – the mix of emotions of the people surrounding their friend attempting to express sympathy was exhausting. Every person in the room feared Macy’s position in the bed. Some handled the anxiety better than others. The one bright spot of the visit, of course, was Tony’s arrangement. MJ immediately recognized the man’s work and winked at him knowingly. Peter didn’t stop a grin from slipping across his face; in their silent means of communication, the look was answer enough.

MJ corned him in the parking lot everyone dispersed to an appropriate amount of time later. When the room started to get too cloying, Peter made his excuses, prompting everyone to follow suit. There was only so much sad he could take – especially when a potential light in his dark tunnel shone so bright, waiting for him just hours away. They stopped at the trunk of Peter’s car, MJ leaning against the bumper like always. “Peter, spill. I haven’t seen that goofy look on your face since high school. Did something happen with Tony?”

Snorting at MJ’s impeccable awareness, Peter shifted until he could wrap his arm around her. He leaned his head against the side of MJ’s, closing his eyes. “Your florist is the best-looking man I’ve ever laid eyes on. I maturely held myself back at the wedding to be there with you in the moment and those karma points I banked were good to me today. I walked into Stark’s for some flowers for Macy and couldn’t bear to walk out without a chance to see him again.” Peter turned his head until he could press a kiss to her forehead. “We’re going out tonight.”

“I’m happy for you,” MJ said, her thin arms wrapping around him. “When I first met him, I thought you two might like each other. He’s older, a little weird, smart as hell – just your type.”

“I guess there’s a reason why you’re my best friend,” Peter quipped. “Seriously, though. Thank you – you always point me in the right direction. I really like him.”

MJ pulled back just enough to tap her forefinger against Peter’s nose – the move their sign of affection for years now. “Go get your man, Pete.”

----

To stop himself from pacing up and down the hall of his apartment, Peter went to the fitness center on campus – a hard workout with the weights was exactly what his body needed. Sweating and listening to a couple of playlists took Peter away from his thoughts of dinner later and into a mindset that let him just exist. It didn’t hurt that the pump in his arms looked amazing by the time he packed up and called it a day.

Timing it perfectly, Peter left himself an hour to get back to his apartment, shower, and decide on an outfit that didn’t shout desperate, but expressed his implicit interest, too. Not living too far from campus made it easy to fret about his clothes after a lengthy shower that took every ounce of Peter’s willpower to not masturbate anxiously. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to face the star of his fantasies head on after beating off to the thought of Tony’s tanned skin and gorgeous smile.

After a few restless passes through every piece in his closet, Peter took a large step back, attempting to clear his head. From what he already learned of the older man, Peter knew Tony looked flawless in anything – his style was basic, but the casual nature in which it was worn made the look stylish, anyway. Tasha’s restaurant wasn’t the fanciest place in the world and the pressing feeling of being comfortable in Tony’s presence made an outfit pop into Peter’s head after a couple of long breaths that helped to calm him down.

Peter slipped into his favorite dark wash jeans, smiling all the while – it seemed silly, the anxiety he danced with less than five minutes ago. He’d felt nothing but ease and excitement around Tony, getting himself prepared for a date with the man wasn’t as life and death as he let himself believe. Stressing over something that felt simple in every other way was a new feeling – Peter carried an abundance of confidence with him everywhere. The change made Peter believe whatever might happen with Tony was different and so much better than any other romantic dalliance he’d ever taken part in.

The outfit was finished with a couple small sprays of his favorite cologne – Peter only broke out the fancy stuff for special occasions. With a tug to his rolled shirt sleeve and the slightest adjustment of his collar, Peter took a deep breath and wandered across the room to stop in front of his mirror. His straight legged jeans were clasped at the waist with a black leather belt that cut Peter’s figure dramatically. Both muscular and trim, Peter went out of his way to make sure each attribute was highlighted appropriately. A white and blue stripped short sleeve button up wrapped around Peter’s firm biceps and tucked neatly into his waistband to highlight the narrowness of his hips.

Aside from the rogue curls Peter couldn’t tame, he felt good about the way he looked – the outfit and the confidence it made him feel would be a hit. Tony seemed to like the upfront and honest way he presented himself, there wasn’t any reason to change that now. Allowing himself one last look, Peter turned away from the mirror and made his last-minute preparations – he pocketed his wallet and keys and grabbed a jacket off the coat hook on his way out of the door.

It took less than five minutes to get to Tony’s shop – without the daily traffic on the road, the drive was easy. Pocketing that fact for another time, Peter climbed out of the car excitedly; for the first time in a while, Peter felt ready to date. Tony presented intrigue and want and a curiosity that Peter hoped to cling to for as long as possible. The simple fact that Peter already felt that way spoke volumes.

A door shutting brought Peter’s attention to the sidewalk in front of him. He expected to find Tony turned around to lock the front door of the shop, yet the older man was closing a door on the side of the building instead. Even more interested now, Peter started to head in that direction.

“I live in a huge loft above the shop,” Tony said with a knowing tone, answering Peter’s unspoken question without any sort of hesitation. “When I first bought the building, a storefront wasn’t what I initially had in mind. After I opened up the shop, it made the most sense.” Tony continued to speak as he closed the distance between them.

A soft pair of lips were pressed lightly against Peter’s cheek before he could think, let alone reply. Peter felt his cheeks and neck light up with a heated flush, his body temperature skyrocketing. Tony’s next words only added to the feeling – “You look amazing, Peter.”

Swallowing his awkwardness, Peter smiled in Tony’s direction, finally taking the man in front of him fully. Tony’s legs were encased in charcoal grey jeans that were rolled twice at the cuff. The edges sat nicely against a pair of black and white vans. The tanned arms Peter hadn’t been able to stop thinking about were on display – Tony’s short sleeve button up was perfectly tight against a trim chest and firm shoulders. Other than the stubble Peter figured Tony always had, the man’s cheeks were smooth – highlighting how gorgeous the florist truly was. It didn’t hurt that their fashion senses were similar, either; Peter wondered for a moment where Tony got the floral shirt currently driving him crazy.

“You’re stunning,” Peter eventually managed to say, his breathy words finally breaking his minutes long silence. “You’ve looked great in every way I’ve seen you – covered in dirt, sweaty and working, dressed to impress – it’s kind of not fair, Tony.” Peter let the truth of what he just said sit transparently on his face. They were passed the point of coyness and subtlety; Peter wanted Tony to know he was wanted, even though they hadn’t known each other long.

His bluntness seemed to do the trick – Tony grinned widely in his direction, avoiding direct eye contact with Peter in obvious hope of getting himself back under control. “Charmer,” Tony muttered, stepping a little closer to Peter to emphasis his point.

After opening the passenger side door like the gentleman he was, Peter settled behind the wheel and onto the main road. Tasha was a former teammate, a senior his freshman year, that escaped to Paris – only to make her way back to Indiana and use the knowledge she gained in one of the cooking capitals of the world. Over the years, Silver became a regular place for Peter and the team to spend their classier nights. The food was amazing, and Tasha’s unique style made the minimalism the restaurant was known for interesting and thought provoking. When he called to make the reservation, Tasha cooed in Peter’s ear while saving his favorite table for 7.

They made easy small talk during the drive over – Peter described the pre-season workouts he’d been trucking through while Tony regaled him with a story of his last customer of the day who tried to steal roses by stuffing them down her shirt. As he listened and absorbed, Peter realized Tony was funny and full to the brim of wit – he laughed freely, the sound so joyful, Peter couldn’t help but join in. They were still chatting as the hostess led them to their table and set large menus before them.

Their drink orders were taken almost immediately – the serving staff was familiar with Peter and must’ve been tipped off before they got there. A bottle of red wine was set on the table before either of them could delve back into their previous conversation. Peter poured them each a glass, then pointed at the menu – “Did anything catch your eye?”

“I thought I’d go with the steak frites. Out of all the dishes on this extensive menu, that one immediately came to your mind. Seems like as good a reason as any to give them a try,” Tony reasoned, lifting the wine to his lips as he spoke. “What about you?”

Peter’s cheeks were already starting to hurt from the giddy smile he couldn’t help – talking and joking and simply being with Tony felt so natural. He didn’t have to think to reply casually to whatever they were talking about. “I get them every time I’m here. When Tasha first opened this place, she’d just lay dishes on the table when we sat down. I stopped being her menu taster when she introduced me to the steak frites. I haven’t had anything else here since,” Peter admitted, his cheeks flaming once again.

“You’re one of those people, huh?” Tony shot back, grinning all the while.

“One of those people?”

Tony grinned a little wider, his eyes shining with affectionate enjoyment. Before he replied, the older man slipped his hand across the table, taking Peter’s fingers lightly. “Yeah, one of those people. Someone that gets the same dish at every Chinese or Italian place they go to, no matter the options.” His thumb trailed over the back of Peter’s hand. “You like what you like.”

Feeling a little called out, Peter ducked his head to stop anymore redness from overtaking his skin – he probably resembled a tomato already. It was crazy – to feel so happy being teased. “Okay, yeah – I’m one of those people. I’ll try that one dish anywhere, though.”

They traded a few barbs back and forth until they ordered, and their dishes were sat down in front of them. Without the threat of interruptions in the near future, Peter felt ready to broach some of the more personal topics – for the first time on a date, Peter genuinely wanted to listen and find out more about the person across from him.

“So, tell me more about yourself – who is Tony Stark when not covered in dirt or up to his elbows in beautiful flowers?” Peter cut into his steak as he spoke, hoping the relaxed way he asked the question would take a little tension off Tony’s obligation to answer. The last thing he wanted to do was make their time together feel like an interrogation.

Tony didn’t seem to mind, though – he looked up with a tilt of his head. “What do you want to know? I’m shockingly not covered in dirt a lot of my time throughout the day.”

“How did your love for flowers start? Did you study horticulture in college?” Peter decided to ask.

Smiling lightly, Tony shifted in his seat, preparing himself for story time. “I studied Botany and Plant Pathology, actually. I have a doctorate in Plant Genetics and Soil and Water Sciences. During my plant genetics studies, I did some time abroad that took me to every continent – seeing the wide range of flora that exists in this world was the first time I ever thought about making plants and flowers a daily part of my life to the extent they are now.” Tony stopped to meaningfully catch Peter’s eyes.

“I used to be a professor at Purdue – when the restrictions of the lab became too much, I ditched the academic world and opened up the shop. I’ve been elbows deep in beautiful flowers ever since.” Tony winked in his direction, repeating his words jokingly back to him. “What about you? You cheer and charm unsuspecting old men, I know that. What else do you get up to?”

“You’re the only unsuspecting older guy I want to be charming, don’t you worry,” Peter reassured Tony with a soft chuckle. “When I’m not sweeping you off your feet, I study Philosophy and play a stupid amount of video games. Cheer and all that comes with it takes up a lot of my time, though. Most of my college life has revolved around football games and competitions.”

“Sweeping me off my feet – jeez, Pete,” Tony mumbled. His cheeks were red and the smile he wore spoke of happiness and enjoyment. “I took a couple of Philosophy classes during my undergrad days. What do you plan to do with an entire degree with it?”

A laugh slipped from Peter’s mouth at Tony’s question – though many people asked him that very same thing, no one presented it quite like Tony did. “You’d be surprised by what you can do with a Philosophy degree,” Peter retorted. “I want to be a bioethicist. My minor is Public Health – when I put my cheer shoes away for good, I hope to get a master’s in Bioethics and finally get into the realm I want to be in.”

Tony tilted his head then, his eyes roaming over Peter curiously. “What made you want to get into that? I’m sure there aren’t a lot of young bucks walking into higher education with their sights set on changing the medical world like that.”

Sucking in a long breath, Peter let the question sit on the air for a moment. He swirled the last of his wine in the glass before drinking it. “My parents were in a car accident a couple of days before my 10th birthday. My dad passed away immediately, but my mom – she hung on for an extra couple of days. There was a lot of internal bleeding that they were worried about. In all that worry, they didn’t wait for scan results or blood work to come back before they attempted a new, exploratory surgery. She didn’t make it back out of the operating room.”

Peter paused for a moment, catching his breath. “I was old enough to know someone fucked up and when I looked into it later, I decided I never wanted to let someone feel like I did in a crisis like that. There’s got to be someone who reviews the evidence and makes the ethically just decision to save someone’s life. Why shouldn’t it be me?”

For a second, Peter thought he went a little bit too far – there was a tense moment of silence that felt heavy after revealing something so personal. Peter bit into his bottom lip, not letting himself look up to see whatever reaction existed on Tony’s face. Then, a soft touch brushed across the back of Peter’s hand, Tony’s calloused fingers wrapping around his own. A brief squeeze had Peter looking up, his breath catching at the awe that met him. “I’m sorry to hear about your parents, Pete. Mine aren’t around anymore, either. It’s kind of cliché to say that you saw the deeper meaning of something so tragic, but it’s true. You’re using your pain to make the world better. That’s good shit,” Tony said, his voice hinting at a note of finality – like nothing would change his mind of the thought.

His certainty made Peter feel light, the weight of his emotional burden finally lifting from him after so many years. What a difference it made, to be so easily understood.

That light and airy feeling followed Peter throughout the rest of the evening – he smiled widely as Tony talked about his greenhouse while they shared a small chocolate tart between them. For all that his physical attraction was worth, Peter was genuinely surprised to realize that he felt a personal connection to the florist, too. They led different lives but shared enough similarities to make the time spent together more than worth it. Peter liked Tony and from the looks and subtle touches Tony bestowed upon him all evening, Peter figured Tony might like him, too.

Tony proved that thought to be true when they pulled up in front of his place – “Do you want to come up? I had a really nice time tonight and don’t want it to end.” Tony’s words were said through a saucy smile, his intention more than clear in the look in his eyes.

Peter didn’t hesitate to give his answer – leaning forward, he gripped the side of Tony’s cheeks, using his hold as leverage to pull Tony a little closer. They met in the middle, their lips pressing together softly.

----

Things progressed pretty quickly from there. Tony led Peter up a small flight of stairs into an open room. As expected, plants and flowers were scattered around the place, covering all of the flat surfaces with adequate enough sunlight. A comfortable looking couch and kitchen table took up one corner of the room while a large, king-sized bed took up the rest of the free space of the room. There wasn’t much clutter and all of the things that Tony had, he more than likely used. It was simple and perfect, much like the person who resided there.

Tony didn’t let Peter take in the room for too long – before he could walk around and snoop, Tony’s arms were around Peter’s hips, pulling him close. Peter eagerly met Tony in the middle, their lips sealing together in the delicious slide of tongue and teeth and wet, panted breath. As the kisses deepened and their bodies moved closer to each other, Peter started to impatiently thumb at Tony’s buttons, his palms and fingers running over every inch of bare skin he revealed to the cold air. Tony followed suit; his movements much more impatient than Peter’s were. By the time they made it over to the bed, Tony was pulling down Peter’s pants and boxer briefs. He gladly joined Tony in nakedness before climbing onto the inviting mattress.

“Holy shit, this is comfortable,” Peter babbled absentmindedly, his limbs stretching as far as they could go.

“It’s the one thing I refuse to compromise on. I want to be comfortable when I partake in all the activities a bed is good for,” Tony replied as he climbed onto the bed and fit himself between Peter’s legs. “You’ll be even more impressed in the morning,”

For a while after that, there weren’t any words exchanged. Peter kept his mouth busy by pressing kisses into Tony’s neck and upper chest – Tony’s cologne was prominent, pulling Peter in the more he breathed the delicious smell in. Tony let Peter riddle his skin with marks and spit while he ran his hands all over Peter’s skin. Their hips were lined up and with every thrust Peter made up, Tony rolled his hips down until their cocks brushed delightfully. They were both so caught up in each other that nothing but touching and experiencing actually mattered.

It’d been so long for Peter that he found himself coming to a breathless crescendo fast. After a few minutes of passively letting Peter kiss him, Tony took control of things – his hips set the tempo and his hands and lips laid down the distraction. So overwhelmed from it all, Peter wasn’t aware of how close he was until his orgasm slammed into him out of nowhere. “Oh fuck, Tony! I’m – I’m going to come,” Peter panted out, his body thrumming with life and want and a desire he couldn’t hold back.

“Oh, Tony!” Peter practically screamed a moment later – Tony dirtily rolled his hips to toss him deliciously over the edge.

Panted breath filled the room as Peter rode the high of his orgasm. Tony placed tiny, teasing kisses against any part of Peter’s skin he could reach. Reaching down, Peter gripped the sides of Tony’s face until they were looking at each other – Tony met his eyes with a self-satisfied smirk. “How good is your turnaround time?”

Laughing, Peter leaned forward to give Tony a kiss. His cock was already starting to fill out again – having Tony so close set his body on fire. “Ten minutes at the max,” Peter mumbled after a moment of cataloging his heavy limbs and the desire that was rampaging through them.

“Good. Then you’ll have plenty of time to prep me before you fuck me.”

Lost in the words for a moment, Peter was immobile until Tony tapped his side with a cold lube bottle to get his attention. “You want me to fuck you?” Peter dumbly asked, his mind still trying to catch up.

“Yeah, Pete. I want to feel you inside of me. Your body is trim and fit – I can only imagine how good you’re going to fuck me,” Tony admitted without shame. He moved out of the splay of Peter’s thighs, climbing to his hands and knees, instead.

Not wanting to lose his chance, Peter launched himself into action. He ran his hands over the planes of Tony’s sides and back, tracing the small scars and tiny moles scattered across pale skin. His fingers were eager to categorize and map, but his impatience was too great. Tony pressed back into him, as if he too was starting to feel anxious for what was coming next.

Uncapping the lube, Peter drizzled a good amount onto two of his fingers, pausing just long enough to warm the slick to body temperature. When he felt ready, Peter pressed the tips of both his fingers to Tony’s eagerly waiting hole, tracing and circling the muscle to spread the lube and relax the man he was touching. Little by little, his first finger slipped in without much resistance. Tony bared down against him and let the digit slip all the way in until the webbing of Peter’s finger stopped him.

Now that the warm heat was wrapped around him, Peter wanted to take his time, letting Tony get used to the feeling while he explored and reached. Tony’s entire body jolted forward when Peter finally found that delicate nub.

“Shit – do that again!” Tony shouted; his voice laced with a breathy moan.

Unable to do anything but give into what they both wanted, Peter continued his ministrations, teasing Tony with one, two, and then three fingers. He scissored and pressed against the edge of Tony’s rim, loosening the muscle as he went. When he pressed inside, Peter caressed Tony’s insides, just barely pressing against his prostate until Tony was humping back with exaggerated impatience.

“I’m good, Pete. I’m good. Please, I want you,” Tony pleaded as he reached back and felt around for whatever lenght of Peter’s skin he could reach.

Completely hard once again, Peter was more than ready to feel Tony wrapped around him – after an easy orgasm already, Peter knew he’d be able to make their coupling worth it. Opening the tube of lube again, Peter drizzled more of it directly onto the length of his cock, and then a bit more around Tony’s rim. He stroked himself a couple of times, then shifted until the head of his cock could drag through the lube coating Tony’s skin.

He teased them both for a moment, tracing Tony’s rim with the wet head of his cock to ramp up that initial moment of anticipation. Peter kept up his antics until his own body couldn’t take it any longer – every part of him craved the warm embrace of Tony’s hole. With that thought in mind, Peter used one of his hands to grip Tony’s hip, using his hold to pull the other man back against him as he thrust forward. Breaching the muscle felt like coming home – he threw his head back with a rough groan; maybe he wouldn’t last as long as he initially thought.

“Tony, Tony, Tony – you feel fucking amazing,” Peter panted through clenched teeth, his body fighting hard against the need to thrust forward and take, take, take.

Tony reached back to grab at Peter’s hand on his hip to tangle their fingers together, instead. They shared a few breaths while Tony got used to the stretch of Peter within him, the mere connection between them radiating a different sort of heat while they waited.

Finally, Peter felt Tony relax around him enough for his hips to draw back and press forward without much effort. He kept his thrusts slow to start; his cock was throbbing from the realization that it was Tony below him – picking up the pace was a sure-fire way to end things a lot quicker than either of them wanted. When Tony started to thrust back against him, however, Peter lost more and more of his control. His hips snapped forward, their skin slapping together to make a loud sound that echoed around the room. With every thrust in, Tony moved with him – the tip of Peter’s cock was poised to press perfectly against Tony’s prostate every time.

Between the sounds dripping from Tony’s mouth and the delightful squeeze around his length, Peter was a few thrusts away from slipping over the edge once more. He tried to shift so he could wrap his fingers around Tony’s cock to get him there too, but he was met with a long stare over Tony’s shoulder – dark hazel eyes were on fire, pushing him to thrust harder and forget everything else. Tony’s body was taut, obviously strung out and seconds away from breaking apart. Finally understanding, Peter straightened out his chest, gripped Tony’s hips in both hands, and let himself go.

In the end, it was hard to decide who tumbled over the edge first. Tony shouted Peter’s name and tightened impossibly tight around him. The extra stimulus was the perfect thing to bring the heat in Peter’s belly to an overflowing boiling point. He tucked his head into the sweaty length of Tony’s neck and groaned, Tony’s name and fuck and unintelligible noises added to the symphony their joining created around the room.

Managing to just barely turn Tony as his body collapsed, Peter hit the mattress hard – his cock slipped out of the blissful heat, dragging a long groan from the depth of Peter’s chest. Being inside of Tony already felt like home; both his body and his heart were convinced. Wrapping his arm around Tony’s hip to compensate, Peter snuggled into the man’s sweaty back, keeping their bodies close.

“I – Tony. That was…” Peter started to mutter, his brain still not back online like the rest of him. Tony looked over his shoulder, affection and appreciation alive in the hazel of his eyes. They shared a heated stare as Tony pulled Peter’s hand more firmly across his chest – they didn’t need words in that moment, merely touching and existing in the same orbit was more than enough.

----

After that first passionate night, Peter spent almost all of his free time with Tony. With the shop being so close to campus, it was easy to lean on Tony’s close proximity and the joyful happiness Peter felt whenever they were together. The natural way their lives just sort of combined with each other proved how right they were for each other. Where others were wrapped up in the time Peter spent away from them, Tony enjoyed the fact that they led separate lives. Peter got to keep cheerleading and Tony at the same time without the two battling against each other. He didn’t know it before Tony came into his life, but that level of acceptance was everything Peter needed from another person to both excel and feel happiness.

Before Peter knew it, four months were behind them – though it hadn’t been that long, most of Peter’s things took up space in Tony’s apartment and every thought Peter had revolved around the life he was trying to create with the older man. He even took the time to learn more about Tony’s body of work – they spent many of their afternoons together in the backyard with Tony working the greenhouse while Peter practiced tumbling or simply watched his boyfriend in his element. Peter couldn’t recall another person making him feel so dumbfounded playing in the dirt the way Tony did – it wouldn’t matter what the man did, either; Peter would find something to be amazed about.

It was Tony that drew him in; his personality, thoughts, and the eager way he gave back to Peter spoke to a part of himself that he never knew existed.

Which was how he found himself nervously awaiting Tony’s arrival at the Purdue football stadium – aside from MJ and Darcy, Tony’s appearance at the football game would be the first time any of his friends met the older man. The fall, much like Peter, was a busy time of the year for Tony. Between weddings, showers, and parties, Tony’s weekends were filled to the brim. The homecoming game was the first game that the home schedule actually lined up with Tony’s off day. He couldn’t wait for Tony to watch him do the thing he loved in the uniform he felt proud to wear. Selfishly, he wanted to see that same sort of pride radiating from the person he’d fallen in love with.

The forty minutes they were trapped in the locker room before the game started felt like torture – his phone vibrated against his thigh a couple of minutes after they headed in from warm-ups. Tony was navigating the stadium’s security to get to the sideline spot Peter secured for him. When they walked back onto the field, Tony would be there eagerly waiting for him.

Finally, the performance lights flickered, and they were ushered to their usual entrance. The large black and gold flag he carried in his hands was lighter than usual – his excitement pumped through him, the dopamine of happiness causing a rush of energy. As the announcer pumped up the crowd, Peter caught the eyes of his teammates around him, sharing the hype he felt.

Running across the thick white lines never felt better – by the time he crossed center field, Peter caught sight of Tony in the corner. His boyfriend was clapping loudly, the honey-hazel of his eyes glued to Peter’s every move. The familiar feeling that Tony’s love created in him spread through Peter’s chest, showing itself off as a giant, beaming smile.

They didn’t get much of a chance to talk throughout the first half of the game – Peter’s stunt group was responsible for the spirit stuff for the first and second quarter. Instead, Peter sent Tony messages with his eyes, showing off his skills and tumbling talents whenever he could. It was almost better that way – Tony got to experience Peter in his element without any pressure to respond. The crowd going wild around them only added to the experience. For once, Peter got to put on the show.

When Peter got to wander off after the half-time performance, he was wrapped up in a bear-hug the second Tony could get his arms around him. Peter was covered in sweat and glitter and the annoying little turf beads that always stuck to his skin, but Tony didn’t seem to care. The older man picked him up, spinning him around excitedly. “Pete, you’re so talented. I about shit my pants when you back flipped for so long down the field, but damn – the skill you possess,” Tony gushed, tucking his face into Peter’s neck to calm himself down.

Not wanting to lose the upbeat energy, Peter cupped Tony’s cheeks in both of his hands. Tony leaned into the touch, tilting his head back to look at him. “I’m so happy you’re here,” Peter started, leaning forward to steal a quick kiss. “I’ve been on point all day because of you. I can feel you watching me – I want to be good for you.” The last words were whispered in his ear, the impact of them hitting Peter hard across his lower back as Tony wrapped him up and pulled him close.

“You’re the only thing I see,” Tony mumbled back, his tone all the sudden low and gravelly.

After leaning in to give Tony a heated kiss, Peter forced himself to pull back – he stepped out of Tony’s embrace completely. If he stayed there any longer, he wouldn’t make it back to the locker room at all. Smirking in Tony’s direction, Peter thrust his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got to go, or I’ll never leave. See you after?”

“I’ll meet you out front,” Tony said with a nod, his anxious hands reaching out to squeeze Peter’s hand once more. “Keep kicking ass, Pete.”

His role during the third and fourth quarter was a lot more passive than the first half of the game. Since the Boilers were up more than two touchdowns, a lot of the crowd left after the first few minutes of the third quarter – that meant the younger stunters and less experienced tumblers got to have some time on the field. To stop himself from straying over towards Tony, Peter put all of his effort into helping his littles. It didn’t work nearly as well as he figured it might, but he got through the rest of the game with minimal distraction.

Hayley’s speech was inspirational and moving like usual – they were done with football home games for the season and their success was obvious and highlighted in her moving words. The next couple of months of the season were the calm before the storm and they were all looking forward to the small break basketball games posed for them. Competition season started after the holidays and no rest would be spared. Though he always appreciated her words, Peter wished for them to quickly come to an end.

Before he even finished the thought, Hayley was circling them up, calling out the cheer that they all echoed back. As he shifted to move out of the circle, a firm grip stopped him. “I believe this is for you,” Hayley said, handing over a classic red rose.

“Hayley, who’s this from?” Peter asked, trying his best to tamper down the hope that maybe Tony was the stupidly romantic culprit.

With a knowing smile, Hayley shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, “He said you’d know.”

Pulling the rose to his chest, Peter ducked his nose to sniff at the crisp petals. It was de-thorned and freshly cut – Tony’s markers were all over the beautiful gesture. His cheeks were already sore from all the beaming he’d been doing all night, the face splitting smile only made it worse. Despite that, Peter wore it throughout his post-game routine and out the door where he ran directly into MJ.

“MJ! What are you doing here?” Peter threw his arms around her then, careful not to crush the flower still in his hand.

Thin arms returned the hug – MJ brought him tightly to her chest with a hard squeeze. It’d been a few weeks since they’d seen each other. Seeing her standing there, Peter realized it’d been too long.

“I couldn’t miss homecoming. I am an alumna after all,” MJ replied, her wide eyes never leaving him. Watching her closely, Peter felt a gasp leave his lips when she brought another classic red rose up, running the flower under her nose. “This needed delivering, too.”

Peter gripped the rose lightly, tucking it against the other one in his hand. Each of the petals were perfect and from the small lessons he got from Tony whenever they handled the clipped flowers, Peter knew what the giving of classic red roses meant. It only seemed right that Tony clued him in that way.

“Don’t fuck this up, Peter. I really like him, too,” MJ remarked as she moved in to press a soft kiss on his cheek. He kept her close for a moment, simply soaking in her presence. “He’s waiting for you out front. Go get your man, Pete.”

A soft laugh left his lips, MJ said that to him when she first learned about his date with Tony. It wasn’t lost on him how full circle everything felt. The rightness of being with Tony existed in every aspect of his life – each little sign made the delirious heat in his chest burn that much brighter.

Giving MJ one more squeeze, Peter broke away to quickly make his way towards the front of the stadium where Tony was waiting for him. He wasn’t sure what he did to deserve such a sweet display of affection – Tony knew Peter appreciated the simple day to day life they were slowly creating with each other. At the same time, Peter’s heart was hammering in his chest at the thought that Tony deemed him worthy of such a gesture.

Peter found Tony leaning up against one of the large pillars just outside the exit doors. In the darkness, the honey color of his eye shone like melted pools of gold. Narrowing the distance between them became the only thing on Peter’s mind, he picked up his pace and practically threw himself in Tony’s arms.

The sigh along the length his neck made Peter tuck in a little tighter against Tony, his heart pounding with affection. He pulled back before the roses in his hand could get squished in the intensity of their embrace. Peter brought the flowers to his nose, keeping Tony’s eye as he did. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Peter sing-songed, grinning at the flush that spread over Tony’s cheeks with every word.

Tony nodded at him, tilting his head with a mischievous look of his own. “It looks like you’re missing one, though,” Tony remarked. The long stem in his hand was darker than the others, symbolizing love yet to be realized. Their fingers brushed as Peter took it, his brow quirked in intrigue.

“I love you, Pete. I’ve known since you walked through the door of my shop that you were special. Every second with you has made my life just a little bit better. I know it hasn’t been that long, but I’m mad about you. Over the fucking moon.” Tony walked into his space then, his hands cupping Peter’s cheeks.

Surging forward, Peter caught Tony’s lips in a passionate kiss, their noses bumping in the process. They sipped from each other’s mouths until the need to breath became pressing. Instead of pulling away, Peter leaned his forehead against Tony’s, closing his eyes to revel in the contentment that wrapped around them both. After a couple of shared breaths, Peter blinked to catch Tony’s eye. “I love you too, Tony,” Peter whispered back.

With a wide grin, Tony leaned in again, mumbling “I know” against Peter’s lips.

#starker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #sfsummerbingo21 #bobbie writes #it takes me all the way #starker fic

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post-nuclear-sweetheart · 3 years

Text

A Scoundrel’s Folly

Patches makes good, or at least tries to, on an old favour.

(2384 words)

“Why-“ Patches took a moment to pant out a few breaths, and rub away the blood leaking from his split cheek. “Why’d you do that? You could’ve been killed, you sorry fool.”

“I know,” the hunched over pale man with a peculiar hat covering his face said. “but you looked to have been in a tight spot. The name is Greirat.” He offered his hand to the bald man laid out against a box in the small fort ruins. His hat obscured every facial feature - even the eye holes sloppily cut out of the hat seemed to be blacked out.

Patches reached to shake his hand, but noticed Greirat held out a knitted handkerchief instead. “You can call me Patches.” He held the handkerchief over his cut. “I owe ya.”

That small memory flashed through Patches’ mind when the Ashen One approached him, asking if their little scavenger Greirat had returned.

“Not curled up in the dankest part of the sanctuary, is he?” Patches offered his suggestion on where he could be instead. The Ashen One shook their head, and said that Greirat had gone to Irithyll.

Patches kept a neutral air about him and told the Ashen One to wait another day longer. Internally, Patches had been struck with the stomach-churning flash of extreme worry.

Patches was not one to promise the day to anyone, nor did he promise little acts of kindness, nor did he ever offer anything in return for nothing. Just the same, no one had ever gone out of their way to perform an act of kindness for him, and no one had offered something in return for nothing. All except Greirat. The selfless scavenger had risked his life without a second thought, all to save the arrogant troll who spent his days punishing people he saw fit to receive his wrath. He had chosen the wrong person to invoke his wrath upon, but by some miraculous force, Greirat saw Patches deserving of safety.

Not one to be tied to earthly debts, Patches offered to repay his by way of equal exchange. “You saved my hide, I’ll save yours.” he told him.

But there was one glaring issue with the rescue plan. He was fresh out of armour. “God’s blood,” he muttered in disbelief to himself as he searched through his inventory of goods for any shred of sturdy enough armour. “I must have sold it off.”

The leather armour he currently wore wouldn’t be enough to withstand any blow dealt by the tyrannical Sulyvhan’s guard. It was, however, light enough to outrun Sulyvhan’s pup, as he affectionately referred to it, that guarded the bridge into Irithyll.

“Well,” he continued to speak to himself as he rubbed his chin. “maybe I’ll come across some dead fool’s armour…” He shook his head. No, no that was a terrible idea - relying on luck like that. The memory flashed through his head again, and the realization that Greirat wore nothing more but tattered cloth made Patches grind his teeth with indecision. If the skinny man can wear just scraps and throw his life on the line like that, so can the better built man.

“Alright, you don’t do it now and he dies, then-“ Patches groaned to himself. “-you’ll be stuck taking that debt to your grave.”

He paced back and forth before the mountain of items he had accumulated. “Fuck.” He swore. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, mother- fuck!” His voice raised with each word, until it echoed loud enough to startle the Firekeeper and Hawkwood out of his usual melancholic haze.

It was settled. He would attempt a rescue mission. With the souls he scrounged up, he paid a visit to the Shrine Maiden who had more than a few witty remarks. He ignored her abrasiveness for now and bought a few items he thought would make up for the lack of protection; green blossoms, a birch branch, and other such items.

He said not a single word to anyone. He brushed past the Firekeeper who, although without vision, watched on as the secretive man finally left the shrine.

The journey to Irithyll was one he took several times. He knew the ins and outs of the roads and where most hollowed undead hung about. Each time he was faced with the conundrum of taking the bridge and facing the beast, or scaling the perilous, slippery rocks down to the river and freezing.

From his vantage point among the pine trees that sprouted out from the top of the cliffs, Patches crouched low and watched as the alligator maw of the patrolling beast would spark up every now and again with lightning. He couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of going toe-to-toe with that ghastly beast. He had seen the way lightning burns before. It leaves jagged and black flesh in its wake, with skin still hot to the touch. Nothing like the burning of flames.

As arrogant as he was, Patches wasn’t an idiot. He settled for the slippery cliff, instead.

The slick, ice coated steps that lead into the water on the other side of the river would bring him up through the underworld of Irithyll. No doubt Greirat was looting the houses that contained no end of priceless pieces belonging to nobility.

Patches managed to scale down the cliff side without slipping, and slowly entered the water. Despite being undead, he could still feel the cold biting at his flesh and the numb sensation settle in his toes. He clenched his teeth as tight as he possibly could, and began to wade through the thigh deep water along the bank toward the steps across the way.

The sound of splashing water caught Patches’ attention. It was much more erratic and louder than the water he pushed around with his steps.

“What-“

The ground began to rumble, vibrating the water that stretched all across the river. The ear-piercing sound of what sounded like harsh wind blowing through a small slit resounded just behind Patches. He spun as quickly as he could in the semi-frozen water, and behind him the canine-like beast, twice the size of a human with a long snout filled with sharp teeth, stood on its hind legs. It inhaled, and at the back of its throat sparks of blinding light crackled.

Patches dove under the water, the lightning narrowly missing his head and instead hit the water, scattering all along the surface. Sparing no time, Patches kicked and thrashed his arms wildly in an attempt to swim out from the beast’s legs submerged in the water. He broke the surface with a gasp.

His movements weren’t quick enough, and a tooth of the beast caught Patches’ arm, flinging him through the air. A bloody gash was left behind. Patches landed on a chunk of solid ice floating in the water, close to the archway of the city’s undercroft.

The undercroft. That’s it!

The forceful landing knocked the air out of him, but he knew he didn’t have much time to recover. He rolled off the ice and into the water again, his arm stinging terribly. He ran through the water, skipping awkwardly to get above the thigh high sloshing. Just as he entered, the hot breath of the beast blew at the back of his neck. Patches dove for cover in the water as another bolt of lightning shot just above his head. He crawled through the water, digging his fingers into the earth beneath to gain enough traction and quickly get out of harm’s way. He crawled for cover to the right of the archway tunnel, and out of the beast’s sights.

He held the cut on his arm firm and heaved as quietly as he could. He peeked out from the stone archway, just enough to spot the beast sticking its long maw into the tunnel, sniffing around. It stopped suddenly. It couldn’t fit.

Patches nearly fell over into the now knee deep water of the undercroft, and sighed in relief. He remained as still as he could until the beast finally got bored and left. He looked around the undercroft he escaped into. Pillars of stone arched over him, holding up the city above. Bent metal spikes that served as little barricades sat tipped over and some discarded in the water. Who knew what they were for, but near them plants grew. Lastly, he noticed long, thin white skeletal bodies of strange insect-like creatures with long black hair. They laid face down in the water, dead. Someone had been here before.

Patches pushed himself up along the stone wall he sat against and made his way toward what he saw was a set of stairs that lead up to an alcove that hosted a faint, warm light. He limped himself up the stairs, and saw that it wasn’t an alcove at all. It was a kitchen, with a massive fireplace that roared with flames, and sat cross-legged before the flames were two distinct silhouettes; a rotund body with what looked like a mug in hand across from a small, thin body with a strange long hat who also held a mug.

Greirat was the first to hear his footsteps, and turned in surprise. “Oh,” he certainly sounded startled. “hello there.” He saw Patches’ arm and shook his head. “What brings you out here? You’re injured.”

“What what? Someone’s hurt?” Siegward turned his head the best he could in his armour towards the steps to the undercroft. “Well come on in, then!” Siegward rocked his body back and forth a few times before gaining the momentum to roll forward onto his feet. Patches watched on as the round knight plucked a pewter mug off the counter across the room and filled it with a thick, glowing liquid that sat steaming in the cauldron beside it.

“Here you are, old boy. My famous estus soup!” Siegward didn’t allow Patches to refute and shoved the mug, filled to the brim with the hot glowing liquid, into his free hand. “Drink up! That will set you right as rain.”

Patches gave it an experimental sniff. It smelled delectable enough, then gave it a taste. It was the best thing he had ever tasted. Patches greedily downed the mug, and as he drank the pain faded into nothing.

“Say,” Siegward started. Patches hadn’t noticed he stood examining his figure. “don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“You’ve met the terrible Patches before, have you, Siegward?” Greirat teased from his place by the fire.

Siegward mulled Patches’ name over by repeating it, but Patches hurriedly intervened. “Can’t say I’ve come across you, old boy.” He mocked Siegward’s affectionate nickname. He pushed past Siegward, who remained lost in his memory. “Greirat!” Patches called loudly with his arms spread wide as he approached the warm fire. He was finally beginning to dry. “How’ve you been?”

“Better now.” He answered, but tilted his head. “Did that beast rough you up a bit?”

Patches scoffed at the notion. “What, you think Sulyvhan’s dog can get the better of ol’ Patches? Think again, friend.” Meanwhile, Siegward was audibly humming in thought now.

“That gash on your arm proved otherwise.” Greirat pointed out playfully. He held no ounce of malice in his voice.

Patches squatted low before the flames. “‘Tis but a scratch. All healed up now.” He took this moment to divert the conversation. “That Ashen Tart told me you’d been here a while.”

It was made clear to Greirat why Patches had come all this way. Greirat chuckled gleefully beneath the hat he wore over his face. “Oh, oh ho ho, I see.”

Patches furrowed his brow. “What you laughing at?”

“I’m tickled you would come all this way for the life of a lowly thief.”

“I- I did not!” Patches huffed and took a sip from his mug - only to remember he had drank it all. “Lots of goods out here in rich people’s homes.”

“You can lie better than that - I know it.”

Patches growled out, “What of it?”

“Ah!” Siegward snapped his fingers the best he could through his gloves, catching the other two men’s attention. “I remember where I met you, old boy.”

As Siegward approached, the urge to bolt grew in Patches. Instead, he feigned an uneasy grin. “Oh? Where’s that, then?”

“I had been made a fool of by someone with that same bald dome of yours-“

“Now wait just a minute-“

“-and they stole this very armour.” Siegward gestured to his body. “Dear Ashen One found it and tossed it in the well that dastardly con-artist pushed me down.”

Siegward stopped before his old spot by the fire, and took his seat. “Now if my memory serves correct, I believe that scoundrel took the same name. He even had that big nose of yours.”

Silence settled among the three. Patches eyed up the Zewihander strapped to Siegward’s back. He tried to look him in the eye, but the slit in his helmet was too tiny to properly tell what expression the usually jolly man possessed.

“But you came here for your friend, didn’t you?” Siegward finally inquired after several moments of silent tension. “No one can truly be bad if they journey far for their friend’s safety. All is forgiven, so long as you don’t do that again.”

Patches released the breath he didn’t know he held. “This bloke saved you, did he?”

Greirat nodded. “And what a tight spot I was in.” He said. “I was running from that ghastly beast and fled into that low space you came from. I was cornered by those monsters.”

“And I was in here, trying to take a well needed nap.” Siegward declared. “But then I heard all the commotion, and knew those spidered women had someone in their trap.”

“So I was too late. Ah well,” Patches sighed, but put on a playful smile. “suppose I still need to hold up my end of the bargain.” He said to Greirat.

“I think coming here for me is plenty payback. You and your conscious are off the hook - not that you have much of one to begin with.”

Silence settled among them once more as they stared into the fire. This time the air wasn’t hostile, but instead, peaceful.

“So,” Siegward interrupted the peaceful moment. “who wants more soup?”

#unbreakable patches #dark souls #ds3 #greirat #siegward of catarina #Greirat the thief #I’m on mobile if you can’t tell #putting this here too because why not? plus it makes it seem like I’m making good progress on the painter fic #I mean I am but like I feel like I’m not going fast enough like I did before???? idk #fanfiction #fanfic #friendship #platonic #catch me on ao3 guys gals and nb pals #Cyntax_Error #ao3 #formatting is horrible I apologize lmaoooo #Liver Writes

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shesclearlya3 · 4 years

Text

Class Fight (p.1)

pairing: teen!dandy mott x teen!reader

word count: 3,303

warnings: language, jealous dandy, slightly au!dandy, all characters are 18

part 2 part 3

It was the first semester of your Senior year. The first month of school had flown by, and the Fall dance was just a few weeks away. Your small group of girlfriends was anxiously awaiting for their crushes to ask them.

You weren’t particularly concerned with this. The dance fell on the one Saturday of the month where you had to accompany your mother to some stupid Tupperware party. It was the newest trend in American dining, and your mother needed you as her plus one. It wouldn’t hurt to miss one dance… right?

Your best friends Winter and Zoe were excited, but they were devastated you couldn’t come. You always went with them as a trio.

“Are you sure you couldn’t cancel?” Winter asked while you washed your hands in the bathroom sink. The school day was over, and you planned on accompanying her to the diner for greasy food and to catch up on homework.

“I already promised her weeks ago,” you said, drying your hands. “There’s still prom?”

Winter nodded in understanding, and you both knew it was the end of that discussion. Zoe came out of the stall, her face flushed and hair tied back. She looked clammy.

“You alright in there?” Winter asked her as Zoe took a disposable cup and drank some water.

“Kyle asked me to the dance!” Zoe replied breathlessly. You and Winter both congratulated her, and Winter asked why she looked so sick.

“I just got overwhelmed, you know? He came up and asked me right as I put my books away. I didn’t think he was going too, he never brought it up before-.”

You followed them out as Zoe recanted the story of how Kyle asked her. The halls were mostly cleared now as kids scrambled to leave as soon as possible.

“You’re riding with us, right?” Zoe then asked you, raising a neat eyebrow at you.

“Yes, Dandy probably left already.”

The girls both smirked to themselves, but you ignored it. You were used to it by now.

The thing was, Dandy Mott was the best looking guy in school, in your opinion. You had never attended a public school in your life, but you knew those boys could never compare. Dandy was from the wealthiest family in your private district, and with his looks, girls were all over him.

However, he was quite the character.

Dandy didn’t necessarily associate with a particular group of kids. He was reticent and didn’t bother with any clubs, but he was quite attuned to the drama program. He was also known for his temper if things didn’t go his way, but age matured him, mostly. You were one of the few people who he actually gave a damn about in life. You attributed that to knowing him before school. Your grandfather was a business partner with the Mott family, where your family name found their wealth, and how you two were friends.

You weren’t bothered by the unwanted attention you got from girls attempting to weasel their way into your circle for the chance to talk to Dandy. Most of them gave up quickly, and that was that. Plus, you had Winter and Zoe as your protectors. They weren’t afraid to kick a bitch in the vagina if they overstepped the clear boundaries you had set for yourself. Dandy trusted you, and you weren’t about to fuck that up.

Plus, his mother, Gloria, was continually trying to set him up with girls in other parts of town.

You climbed into Zoe’s new car, buckling your seatbelt and glancing across the almost deserted parking lot. You spotted him instantly, sitting in his car and staring right back. You slowly raised your hand, giving him a wave. Dandy slowly reciprocated the action, and you swore you saw him smile.

You spent the evening with the girls, eating dinner and trying to explain the symbolism in the required reading in English. The football team had finished their practice and were crowding what few booths and tables were left. You tried to block out their raucous laughter, loudly asking Zoe to read your theory to see if it were plausible.

Winter had noticed the Quarterback, Jason, occasionally staring at you as he chewed his burger. Your back was to him, so you had no idea. She didn’t say anything, instead watching him from the corner of her eye, figuring he wouldn’t approach your table.

“I just think it only makes sense to me,” you told Zoe, scratching your head. “I can’t concentrate with the boys screaming for no reason.”

“I think it makes perfect sense. You did misspell authority, though…”

You laughed to yourself, glancing around the diner as Zoe fixed your spelling. You were so distracted, you misspelled simple words.

“We should get ready and go, it’s getting stuffy in here…” Winter commented, closing her English book.

“Just a moment!” Zoe said excitedly, scribbling down in her own notebook now.

You had started gathering your things when both Zoe and Madison looked behind you, looking a mix of concern and amusement. You glanced behind you to see Jason Dean, smiling down at you. His dark hair covered his eyes, and he pushed it back.

You had no idea what to say. The last conversation you had with Jason was probably in fifth grade when he commented that women were weak while helping you carry boxes of school supplies, and you accidentally dropped a massive box of markers on his foot. He cried for an hour.

“y/n,” he addressed you. You glanced at your friends who were eagerly watching you with their faces hidden behind their textbooks. Winter’s was upside down.

“Hi, Jason,” you responded, hearing the confusion in your voice. You listened to his friends giggling behind you, and you wondered if this was a joke.

“I haven’t seen you in a minute,” he said cheekily, and you nodded. “You look good.”

You quickly looked him up and down. Jason was muscular but not bulky, and he was definitely a whole foot taller than you. He grew into his facial features, and he was a handsome guy. You assumed he was just talking to you on a dare, so you finished putting your things in your bag. Zoe and Winter didn’t budge, still pretending to read their books.

Jason realized you were dumbfounded at his statement. He quickly backtracked, “I just wanted to say hi. I’ll see you around.”

You bid him farewell, turning to your friends who were having a hard time concealing their laughter. You heard Jason’s best friend, Matthew, call him an idiot and what sounded like a smack on the back.

“y/n, you have a boyfriend?” Zoe asked, smirking at you.

You glared, standing up as they shouldered their bags and grabbed their books. “You know perfectly well I don’t speak to him.”

“I bet he wants to ask you to the dance.” Winter grinned at Zoe, who nodded in agreement as you stepped into the cold autumn air.

“I’m not going either way.” you mumbled, and the girls dropped it until the next morning.

You didn’t think it was that big of a deal that the Quarterback tried to talk to you at the diner a few nights before. All the students who were present spread gossip like wildfire. You ignored it. You knew they were just children speculating what it could mean when it probably meant nothing.

Zoe and Winter never brought it up again, and you were relieved that your friends didn’t dwell on it for too long. You loved that about them.

It was after lunchtime when you sat in your History course, going over the notes for the test. You heard Jason and a few of his friends pile in, laughing and making comments under their breath. They took their designated seats in the back, and you felt eyes on the back of your head.

A group of popular girls across the room started to giggle, and you glanced up to see Dandy walk in, his nose up and sauntering to the seat directly behind you. You wondered why he didn’t acknowledge you, but you didn’t dwell on it long. Dandy was often absent from any social interaction.

Your teacher began the class the moment the bell rang. She decided to go over the notes an extra day and postponed the test. You were mildly disappointed but knew the material well, so you decided to doodle in your journal. One of the girls in the front occasionally popped her gum.

Ms. Strode was talking about World War II when you felt something hit your elbow. You glanced over and saw a balled-up piece of paper. You glanced around to see most people were either frantically jotting down notes or not paying any attention. You picked it up, assuming it just needed to be passed ahead.

However, you read your name in neat cursive and opened it under the table.

Would you go to the dance with me? - Jason

You read the short invitation a good ten or so times before you could comprehend what he was asking. While the teacher wasn’t looking, you peeked over your shoulder to see him staring at you. His buddies were hiding their own smiles, but you didn’t see any malice behind it. Was he serious?

Of course, you’d have to decline. You already have an engagement. You promised your mother. You already declined the evening with your two best friends.

You didn’t send a note back, knowing it would be too distracting trying to pass it. Dandy would never try to give a stupid message.

However, Dandy had been paying attention and had managed to read the note over your shoulder when you laid it on your pencil case. He became green with envy, closing the book he hadn’t been paying attention too in the first place.

You hardly spoke a word to him this year. He wondered why that was. Dandy was very particular who he said too, and gave any sliver of his precious time. You were a comfort to him and probably didn’t realize that. Dandy knew he couldn’t seem desperate for your affection, or at the very least, your attention. He had hoped you’d be waiting for him in his car after school like the previous years before. Did he do something to upset you? Were you too good for him?

Dandy spent the rest of the class staring at the back of your head. He knew that wasn’t the case. Perhaps it was his behavior that steered you away. Of course, he liked being friends with you, but maybe it wasn’t enough. He was a loner who enjoyed his alone time. Dandy heard what people said about him. The general consensus was that he was doing everything right.

When the class was dismissed, he hung back, watching as you quickly gathered your things and paced out the door.

“Tough blow, man!” he heard Matthew say.

“She’ll come around.” Jason replied, his tone snarky. Dandy watched as they walked out of the room, his brows furrowing as he debated on taking the high road and asking you to the stupid dance himself. He wouldn’t go willingly. His mother, Gloria, needed him to be involved as much as possible. To keep up appearances, of course. Not for Dandy’s own goodwill.

Dandy trailed out of the class, seeing you across the hall at your locker. Winter was beside you, somehow talking and applying lipstick at the same time. He stood off to the side, not minding all the bodies bumping into him and temporarily panicking that he’d yell at them.

This is it, Dandy thought. It’s a war, whether Jason Dean knew that or not.

Jason approached you the following day and asked if you’d mind talking to him at lunch. You hesitantly agreed, catching Zoe’s eye as she hugged Kyle before going into her class. She smiled at you, and you gave her a hesitant one in return.

He definitely matured through the years. Jason was interested in you, and you felt comfortable talking to him through the entire lunch period, even catching yourself laughing at his sense of humor. Dandy played with the apple in his hands, glaring daggers at the back of Jason’s messy head. Winter noticed from her spot at your usual table and nudged Zoe, gesturing for her to look.

“He looks pissed.” Zoe giggled, and Winter nodded in agreement.

“I think Mott is going to kill him!” Winter said, stabbing at her steamed broccoli.

“Shouldn’t we let y/n know?” Zoe asked.

“I think she’s about to figure it out.” Winter said as Dandy stood up, heading directly to the table where you were sitting with Jason. Zoe and Winter fell into a hush, shoving food into their mouth and intently watching what was about to unfold.

Jason saw him approaching first and paused, sizing the other guy up and down. Jason was bigger than Dandy in height and muscle tone from being an athlete, but Dandy wasn’t lanky either. You turned around, shocked to find Dandy staring down at you.

“y/n,” Dandy nodded at you, ignoring Jason.

“Dandy, hi!” you said, genuinely happy to see him. “How are you?”

“I’m decent.” he said, smiling a little. “Could I have a word?”

You glanced at Jason, who seemed timid, but he nodded. You stood up, promising Jason you’d be back as you followed Dandy out to the hallway. Multiple eyes followed you, and you heard the whispers starting as the door swung shut.

“How are you?” Dandy asked now, looking down at you. His dark hair was neatly gelled and had a slight curl.

“I’ve been good. I haven’t heard from you in a while…” you said.

Dandy nodded, “I could say the same. I assumed you’d come back around soon enough.”

You felt he was hurt by your absence. Dandy looked bothered, and you felt terrible. However, he was capable of approaching you as well. Which is what he thought he had to do.

“Is everything okay?” you questioned, hoping his mother was doing well. You hadn’t seen her all Summer.

“y/n, you know you’re one of the only people I care about in this stupid town,” Dandy said, glancing towards a teacher walking to the lounge. He gave you guys a questioning look but didn’t comment, disappearing into the next room.

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so Dandy continued, “Which is why I think you shouldn’t go to the formal with Jason.”

You frowned, “How do you know he asked me?”

“The whole school knows!” Dandy retorted, and you remembered. “I think it’s a bad idea.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m not going either way.”

Dandy looked surprised, and you saw the relief in his eyes. He laughed a little, his fingers drumming against his leg. “Oh.”

“What, are you jealous?” you asked, laughing at him. Dandy tried to hide his laughter, but it didn’t work. The quiet hallway was filled with your giggles.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.” Dandy said, and you were saddened to hear the bell ring. Dandy straightened up, the smile leaving his face as kids filed out of the cafeteria and the surrounding classrooms. Kids stared at you and whispered, many laughing and wondering if you were now a couple.

Jason slowly walked in your direction, but you didn’t want to say goodbye to Dandy. You were ashamed that you had avoided him for so long. You missed him. Dandy glanced behind you, his eyes sharpening as your new suitor waited patiently, his hands in his beige jacket.

“Be careful around him.” Dandy whispered to you before he disappeared down the hall.

You approached Jason, who gave you a soft smile, “Am I missing something? Are you two together?”

You shook your head, a light smile on your lips, “No. We’re just friends.”

“Oh…” Jason nodded, “Look, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry if I freaked you out the other day. We don’t have to go to the dance together, but-.”

“Oh!” you gasped. Jason frowned, giving you a quizzical look. “The dance… I forgot,” you lied. “Uhm, I’m actually not going. I have other plans…” you said.

Jason looked defeated but took the rejection gracefully. You promised you’d sit with him again tomorrow, and he visibly cheered up at that. You ended up having to sprint to your locker for your books after saying goodbye, but you couldn’t stop thinking about Dandy’s warning.

“Be careful around him.”

The Friday before the dance went to complete shit.

That morning you ate your breakfast slowly, listening to your parents argue in the kitchen over a business deal your mother thought was a bad idea. Your father was greedy and looked towards the top dollar than what was best for the business and the family.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Winter fell sick and couldn’t go to school. You had to wait for your father to finish getting ready before he could drive you. You were ten minutes late and got a verbal warning; you never got in trouble at school. You had three tests in a row, and by lunch, you were about to rip your hair out.

Jason was nowhere to be found, so you sat with Zoe. She was worried that Winter would miss the dance but was happy that she’d at least have Kyle if Winter canceled. Kyle came and sat with you guys, his shaggy blond hair wet from the downpour outside.

You were anxiously looking around the cafeteria for any sign of Dandy. He had missed a few days of school, citing a fever when you called his house and spoke to his maid, Dora. You wished him well and knew he’d pull through fast. Plus, you saw his car this morning when you got dropped off.

“They’re going to cancel the dance if more kids fall ill,” Kyle said as he ate a burger. Zoe glared at him, telling him to look on the bright side of things.

“What? I am!” Kyle replied, smirking at his new girlfriend.

“I’m sure they won’t cancel.” you placated Zoe, who beamed at you. “All the parents who gave money will be pissed.”

You ate most of your lunch when the principal walked in. The room immediately quieted as he observed the tables before landing on you. He walked to you briskly, and you felt your heart racing as he approached.

Am I getting detention? I’ve only been late once!

“Ms. y/l/n, could you come with me?” he asked politely, smiling at you, Zoe, and Kyle.

You nodded slowly, bunching up your trash and placing it on the tray. Zoe told you to leave it, and they’d take care of it. You quietly thanked her and followed Principal Harmon out, struggling to keep pace with his long, thin legs.

“Is everything alright, sir?” you asked. Now wondering if your parents died in some fiery crash or if you failed a class.

“There’s been a disturbance outside this afternoon,” Harmon replied, his voice grim. “With Mr. Mott and Mr. Dean.”

You were shocked to hear this. You were silent during the rest of the trek to his office. When he opened the door, you saw both boys sitting in chairs. They both had packs of ice on their faces and sheepish expressions.

“What were you thinking?” you hissed to them as Mr. Harmon gestured for you to take the empty seat next to Dandy.

“Well, now that y/n is here, I think you both owe her an explanation and an apology.”

Jason and Dandy shared a look. Dandy now looked pissed, and you could only imagine what lead to this.

Oh, I have a pretty good fucking idea.

#dandy mott #dandy mott x reader #ahs imagine #dandy mott imagine #ahs freak show #winter anderson #zoe benson #american horror story

221 notes · View notes

dakotafinely · 3 years

Note

Thank you for writing my request!! I enjoyed the twist you put on it!

But like....now I’m curious about when April’s parents finally DO meet splinter and the bois- would she recognize Raph? I assume she’d recognize splinter bc I mean cmon rat man but Raph has gotten so much bigger than when she first saw him

Would you be willing to write that too? 🥺

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I WAS HOPING YOU'D ASK THAT AKSNSOSNDIFLENEHFODND!!

ALSO THANK YOU I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THE REQUEST!!

Also, before we get into it. April has two mom’s and I don't take criticism on that. The one that met Raph & Splinter will be referred to as Mama/Ma while the other will be referred to as Mom/Mother.

Most of the time, it was just April and her mama. Her mom with a job that caused her to travel often. Sometimes unexpectedly.

“But, the guys really want to meet you!” April begged, despite knowing her mother couldn’t get out of it if she wanted to. Her mother lightly kissed her forehead, before returning to pack her suitcase.

“I know honey, and I’d love to meet them too,” She stops to focus and folding a shirt and putting in the suitcase “but I have to go, they need me down in Texas for the week. I promise if I can make it back before Sunday I’ll try to with all my might.” She turns to her daughter. Placing both hands on her face with a gentle smile on her own.

“You know I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have to,” she says and April sighs. Knowing she was right.

“Just... try and make it back as soon as possible,” It was April’s last plea. To which her mother turned back to the suitcase to zip it up. Putting it with the other one and looking to April. Her eyes shining with honesty.

“You know I always do,” she responded. Leaving about ten minutes later.

Saturday came, and April knew her mother wasn’t coming in time. Still, the guys at least meeting one of her mom’s oughta satisfy their curiosity just a bit.

Sunday came and April’s mama was running around like a chicken with her head cut off. Trying to prepare the house as much as possible before they came. April tried to calm her down. The speed reminiscent of a freight train.

“Mama please, trust me when I say they’re not going to care if it’s not perfect,” April said with a slight whine. Still, in a flurry she went. Tidying up things the boy’s wouldn’t have even seen to begin with. Like closets and bedrooms.

“Well I’ll care,” her mama retorted. Slowly running out of steam as it become one hour before they would arrive. Hair tied up and fizzled, clothes stained with deep cleaning messes. She huffed as she looked at herself.

“I’m taking a shower,” she told April “put the chicken in the oven when the-”

“When the timer goes off, I know.”

“I still don’t know why we have to wear clothes,” Raph spoke up as Donnie and Leo admired themselves in a shared mirror. Lightly pushing each other to get a better view. Raph huffed and smoothed out the red cardigan he put on for the 50th time “we never wear clothes any other time!” he said.

“Yeah, but,” Mikey slid up next to him, adjusting the snappers tie “it’s to make a good impression! We’re mutants, we gotta do something to make her feel at ease.”

“Her?” Raph asked.

“Oh yeah, I forgot you weren’t in the room,” Donnie spoke up, finally leaving the mirror before the pushing got to violent between the twins. Leo falling over with a yelp at the unexpected movement of the soft-shell “April’s other mom couldn’t make it back home in time. We’re only meeting one of her parents,” Donnie explained, looking relaxed in the suit, as if he could wear it all the time.

“But still!” Leo spoke up, popping up next to his twin as though he hadn’t just fallen “It’ll be nice to meet at least one of her parents,” he said “for a hot second there I thought we’d never meet either of ‘em!” Leo crossed his arms and sat with a happy smile. Also looking comfortable in his clothes.

“I’m just glad we finally have a reason to use these cardigans!” Mikey said, gesturing to his orange one. Raph looked back to the mirror, looking down at the red cardigan. Mikey had taken time to tailor it to Raph’s measurements, it would’ve been a true shame to let it go unused.

“Alright my sons!” Splinter emerged from his room. The boys stared at him, his suit looking dapper, a sight unusual for the boys. He held a brightly wrapped gift in his hands. Clearly spending most of his time on it as the bow on top was complex and beautiful. He grinned “Let’s go!”

As the hours had become mere minutes. A dread filled April’s stomach. She’d yet to tell her mom’s the truth about her friends. But she knew if she didn’t do it now she’d be asking for disaster later.

“Mama,” April said, mouth dry as she didn’t really look at her. April’s mama looked from the table she was decorating. Concern following her features as she saw the way her daughter was standing.

“What’s wrong baby?” She moved, stopping her task and put a hand on April’s shoulder. Using the other to move April’s face gently to make April face her. April looked nervous, with a mixture of fear. The type of fear you feel when you believe you’re about to be rejected.

“There’s... something I gotta tell you about my friends.” April said “Before they get here, so you can be ready.” She continued, studying her mama’s facial expression. It was mainly confused.

“What is it? What-” A lightbulb went over her head “Oh! Are they gang members? Is that why you’ve been out all hours of the night because April-”

“No!” April spoke a laugh of disbelief, relaxing a bit. Mama relaxed a bit as well, that was her worst fear. The last thing she would ever wish on her daughter is to be swept in something as dangerous as a gang. Especially with some of the very... bizarre ones in New York.

“Well, then whatever it is will be alright with me,” Mama said letting go of her daughter. Despite the concern on April’s face, as if there could be something worse in her mind then gang members. Mama smiled reassuringly “You can tell me, I promise it won’t make me think any less of your friends,” she added, wanting to let her daughter have open space to talk about anything.

April opened her mouth, when the doorbell rang.

“Oh! Well speak of the devil’s then,” Mama spoke with a small chuckle, already moving to open the door.

“Wa- wait! Maybe I should get it!” April began to protest. To which Mama simply shook her head as she placed her hand on the doorknob.

“Nonsense April,” Mama said, already opening the door, “I’d love to-” She stopped as her eyes landed on the five mutants in front of her. Recognizing one almost immediately. Eyes wide and mouth agape as she stared at him again for the first time in years.

Splinter couldn’t help but have the same expression. Feeling as though he’d been thrown into the past. Recognizing the woman, her long thick curls draped down her shoulders had light grey hair’s decorated inside them. She didn’t seem as slim as she was all those years ago. But the gentleness was still evident in creases around her eyes.

Her eyes flicked up. Four, there were four turtles. And despite the fact she hadn’t used the information for years. She still was able to identify each one of them with a glance.

A red-eared slider, a box turtle, a soft-shell, and-

“You!” Splinter and Mama said almost at the same time. Mama taking a step back as she pointed to the Snapper.

April finally snapped out of her horror as she had awaited her mama’s response. Becoming confused by the reaction.

“Wait, you know Raph?” She asked walking behind her mama. April’s mama put a hand over her mouth.

“Pop’s... you know her?” Raph asked leaning down, not-so-subtly whispering behind his hand. Having been to young to truly remember the trauma he’d gone through.

“Well, uh, can we at least come inside?” Leo finally said after a beat of silence. Earning an elbow from Donnie “What? She knows Raph! Or pop’s at least...” Leo trailed before realizing something.

“Wait, is she the one you meet when getting Raph back!?” Is what Leo would’ve said, if Mikey hadn’t said it first. April’s eyes went wide with the realization as well. And Donnie and Raph seemed a bit flabbergasted.

“I- uh, come in!” Mama finally snapped, swinging the door right open. There was a lot of explaining to do...

Eventually, everyone had settled. Sitting at the table as the last of the food cooked.

April looked to her mama, awaiting an explanation.

“It was... before you were born. I’d joined this sort of hunting group as a way to make quick cash. They’d needed a turtle and tortoise expert. And I was it.” April’s mama began. Hands on her lap as everyone leaned into the story.

“I didn’t go on many trips. Just a couple, I didn’t know what they did with the animals they caught. I always thought it was a capture and release type of thing. Since I only was really there to examine the capture and take notes before just, being on my way. But..” She took a deep breath “during one mission, they’d actually decided to let me stay from start to finish and...” Mama looked up to Raph with a small smile “that’s where I met you,” she said.

“Look what I caught!” A hunter said holding up a small turtle by it’s tail. The group gathered round to get a better look at the creature. But she was the only one who truly took notice of weird things about it. How it held it’s claw like a hand, whimpering in pain as it looked around. With eyes that shone of a bright mind, curious about the world. And unusual, toddler like form.

“Well O’Neil?” A hunter asked, lightly knocking her shoulder. Snapping her out of her study. They lightly gestured with their head to the turtle “what kind is it?”

“Uh,” O’Neil shook her head and took a closer look. Holding the turtle with care, making the other hunters snicker at her compassion. She ignored it as she flipped the turtle on it’s stomach, feeling the sharp edges of it’s shell. She turned it back and opened it’s mouth. Tiny hands pawing at the unwanted intrusion, but she saw the sharp curve of it’s beak. Clearly made for tougher meats. Of course, this one was easy, she probably could’ve guessed if she really wanted to “Ah, Alligator Snapper Turtle... which is unusual for this area.” She said.

It took everything in her not to take it back as a hunter ripped it from her arms like a lifeless doll. Laughing a bit as they put him close to their face, slightly sneering at it.

“Really now? Why don’t we cage this lil’ fella and sell ‘em?” They said lightly tossing him from arm to arm. The snapper letting out whines and distressed whimpers. O’Neil was in to much shock at the action to move to action as the others around her laughed.

Until the hunter let out a pained scream. Dropping the snapper with a slur of curses. Backing away as bit. The snapper had begun to get up and try and run. O’Neil noted, that it was on two feet and not all four, before someone else crushed him under their foot.

“That- that fucker bit off my finger!” The hunter screamed in horror as another went to grab the med kit from one of the tents. O’Neil’s eyes widened as she saw the little turtle spit it from his mouth, clearly in distaste.

It was after that O’Neil still had to watch them throw him in cage. But, he drew blood, heck he almost at a whole finger. They couldn’t release him back into the wild. Not with the taste of human blood now his system.

It took two more days for O’Neil to properly realize that it was simply self-defense. With no more incidents occurring, and the snapper unable to eat anything raw without immediately spitting it back out. The poor sucker was starving.

“Maybe he’ll eat the jerky,” O’Neil made the mistake of commenting it aloud as she watched poor turtle suffer in his cage. Whimpering out in hunger, sitting in the corner every time another human would walk by.

“Aww, what’s the matter little guy? Ya hungry?” The hunter he’d bit a few days ago spit out. Clearly begin sarcastic as he threw a piece of jerky out of the cages reach. Still, the naive snapper had went after it. Trying to paw at it from inside the cage.

The laughter surrounding her was sickening. It made her want to cover her ears and shout at them to stop. But she couldn’t. Instead she used her foot to nudge the jerky within reach.

Waiting a few minutes before dumping her bag inside the cage. She didn’t like the jerky that much anyways. She couldn’t help but watch with a smile as the snapper filled his stomach. A satisfied churr coming from him as he smiled back up at her.

That was it, she had to get him out of here.

Under the cover of the evening. She’d volunteered to do night patrols, in case something or someone tried to invade the camp. A shudder crawled through her spine at the idea. What could they’ve been doing to make other people come after them?

Still, once she was sure everyone was asleep. She went to the cage, crouching down in front of it. Relieved to see the Snapper crawl towards her instead of away. This would make it much easier. And despite the darkness, she could see his eyes. Shining with child-like joy and wonder.

“You’re not like the others are you little guy?” She cooed, trying to be as gentle as possible to not startle him. The snapper churred in response, curious but cautious. He understood her. She couldn’t help but smile wider.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. I’ve seen snappers before and you don’t really look it,” She continued, before letting out an awkward chuckle. He did sort of look like a snapper, that’s why she was able to identify him in the first place “I mean,” she corrected herself “you do kinda, but not really if you get what I mean.”

A confused churr, but he leaned against the door of the cage. Silently asking to be let out.

“Yeah... sorry,” she said, opening the cage door. The snapper immediately went into her arms. Snuggling into the warmth and safety of them. The moon finally coming out from behind the clouds for her to see him properly.

Perfect, now was the time to-

As she’d turned to run off, she saw a rat. A large rat, wearing a worn down robe and looking as though he hadn’t slept in days. She couldn’t do much of anything beside stare. And the creature stared back.

The Snapper began to chrip happily, seeming to recognize the thing in front of her. She kept him balanced, still afraid of handing him off to someone. Within four days, it seemed she’d adopted the snapper.

But when the rat gently lifted his arms. Staring at the snapper with adoration and worry and hope. Hands shaking just a bit as though he could will him into his arms. O’Neil knew she was defeated.

She relented the child. With slow movements as to not scare either of them. The rat took him quickly and carefully. Hugging him like his own son, quietly sobbing with shoulder shaking violently. Oh dear, how long had he been looking for the kid?

“Go,” her voice was much hoarser then she would’ve liked, but there was no time for her to care. The rat looked to her, as if he completely forgot he was there to begin with. She couldn’t help but glance at the tents, afraid of waking up the others was lighting in her skin “if you want to get out of here with him now. You need to go,” she whispered. The rat nodded and with no words. Rushed off, leaves in the up kick at his unexpected speed.

She relaxed, until she heard a branch snap.

“O’Neil?” A hunter spoke up, clearly groggy from begin so easily awakened “Is that you making a racket?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she tried to sound as confident as possible. Not wanting to raise suspicion and make them aware of their escapee sooner then necessary “just go back to sleep, thought I heard something but I was wrong.”

She stood frozen in place. Waiting for a response. Before relaxing after a beat or so.

“Wait! What happened after!?” Mikey asked excitedly, immersed in the story. She couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at his enthusiasm.

“Oh, I quit. A month later we got you,” She booped her daughters noise. Making April giggle a bit and shy away. Mama sighed and leaned back against her chair. More at ease with the story out there.

“I always thought you guys ran far away from here,” she commented looking to Splinter “I’m surprised to see you’ve stayed, and gained three more turtles in the process.”

With that, the timer beeped. And everyone helped move the food for them to dig into.

I hope this one’s good! I feel kinda iffy about the ending but it seems like a good place to end it. I had fun playing more with this concept! I’d like to think the guys and April’s history went deeper then even they realized. (I kinda like doing that with ALL my characters, it’s so much fun to interweave them!)

This was a lot of fun! Thank you for sending me the ask!!

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vesuvian-disaster · 4 years

Text

‘That Time At The Masquerade’ or ‘Why Valerius’s Tag is Gorgeous’

Who wants to sample a lemon from me? It’s well, it’s the most complete smut I’ve written. It’s a HeronxValerius fic of the first time they have an encounter. Enjoy?

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

🍋🍋 LEMON! 🍋🍋

🔞 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! 🔞

I decide to take a meandering path out of the palace. The party has quieted to a few lingering guests. Groups settled into sitting areas drinking and chatting, or entirely passed out, and pairs thinking themselves secreted away in small alcoves. They probably enjoy the possibility of being caught...Which I admit has its appeal occasionally. They could also be too drunk to care. Always an option.

I turn down another corridor and find it’s bordering across from an outer wall. Large glass doors and windows open out to a long balcony that looks out onto the gardens below while the opposite wall is lined with doors. It’s nearly deserted save for one individual staring out a window, radiating frustration. I continue down the hall anyway, intending to leave them to themselves. They turn and I see that it’s the individual with the ornate ram mask I’d stolen a glass of wine from earlier. I can’t make out their facial expression, but they straighten up with a start then begin stalking towards me. The clack of their heeled shoes echoes down the empty hall.

They approach and growl out accusingly. “You!”

It’s honestly both baffling and amusing in the moment. I can’t help but smile at them and spread my hands presentially. “Me?”

They grab one of my outstretched wrists and pull me forward. Caught off guard I stumble into their chest. Before I can regain my footing physically and mentally I feel their hand comb up into my hair and clench at the back of my skull. My head is pulled back and the taste of wine hits me as their lips roughly find mine.

Cicero grumbles and leaps from my shoulder. With my new companion’s fist clenched in my hair, and their wine soaked mouth on mine, I can’t look at him to apologize, so I send a thought to him, “Sorry, buddy. I’ll make it up to you.” The mink huffs and disappears down the hall.

I briefly consider that maybe distraction is better than introspection for now. While pushing back into the kiss, as much as the fist in my hair will allow, I place my hands on their hips and pull them in closer.

They break the kiss and our masks knock together as they give no slack to their grip, “I demand an apology.”

I massage their hips with a smirk, “An apology, or a good time?”

Their lips curl into a frown as they release my hair, but they drag me down the hall. Muttering something about me being a delinquent, they open a door and pull me in behind them.

I look around the room, while they fumble with the lock on the door. It’s a corner suite, and very very well decorated. Very elegant. Earth tones and white trimmed in gold. I spot an open doorway that appears to lead into a washroom, perhaps a private bath. I must have found myself a palace attaché to spend the night with. That’s fine.

I turn back around to look at them. They're running their hand down the door frame and it briefly glows with runes I recognize. It’s very expensive to have a zone of silence spell built into a room, but hey. It is the palace after all.

I walk over and start fiddling with their clothes. There have to be a couple layers at least. Starting with a long coat made of taupe and gold damask silk. I remember seeing lacing down the front, so I loop my arms around them to find and loosen the ends.

“Eager, are you?” They sound amused, looking at me over their shoulder. Their arms are raised as if to accommodate me.

I duck under one arm to be in front of them. “You brought me in here. I didn’t think we were standing on ceremony,” The laces are loose enough that they could shrug out of their coat now, “But I can slow down if you want.”

They shrug their coat off, leaving it in a pool on the floor as they step out of it. Under their coat is a tailored shirt tucked into flowing pants, both white with elaborate gold trim. “No.”

While they’ve been considering their options, I’ve removed my jacket. Toggle buttons get in the way so easily in the moment. Then I kick off my shoes into the pile of my own things.

More comfortable, and with the go ahead to continue given, I reach up with one hand to pull them down into a kiss, and work on tugging the bottom hem of their shirt free from their waistband. They grab my shirt and pull the buttons free before tugging it down off my shoulders.

I let go of them to discard my shirt, then grab and pull them in by the waist, so I can get some control and start walking them back towards the bed. They seem far more interested in tracing a scar down my arm, though, and lose their balance. I quickly move to catch them and transfer them to a bridal carry easily. They flail briefly, before holding onto my shoulders.

“Easy there. I’ve got you.” I say, with a smile.

“Be more careful!” They try to admonish me, but I can see those wide eyes on the other side of the mask. Trying to save face, even though they’re startled.

I play along, and nod my head, “You’re right. I should be more mindful, allow me to make it up to you.”

They pause and get a more sure grip on me, “You had best.”

I laugh and carry them to the bed, where I set them down, their legs hanging over the side. Much better, I don’t have to pull them to my level like this. Leaning forward, I start kissing along their jaw and down their neck. They smell herbaceous, with just barely lingering floral and citrus scents, and a smell of wine that I imagine simply permeates their being. There’s a long plait coiled around their shoulders. I sweep it back so it’s no longer in my way. As I nip at where neck and shoulder meet they groan, moving their head to one side to give me better access to their neck. I continue lavishing attention here as my hands wander under their open shirt.

I encounter soft, warm, skin over a slim frame. Long legs wrap around my waist, pulling me in, and answer a question of equipment. A steadily hardening arousal is pressed to me through their pants. I drag my hands down their sides and down to their waistband to undo the fastening.

I’ve worked my way back up their neck and I break from it to find their lips again, through a noise of protest. I finish with the fastenings of their trousers and underclothes. Wrapping an arm around them, I lift them and tug the clothing out from beneath them, before setting them back down.

I begin moving downward. From their mouth, to their chin, and down the front of their neck, planting kisses. Then further as they release me from their legs. I pull the clothing with me as I go past their erection, leaving it untouched, and slip it off over their shoes. I’m kneeling at this point and I begin dealing with the black gilded ankle boots. It takes a little more time than I’d like, the buttons keeping them in place slowing things down some more.

I look up at them to see them finally discarding their shirt. I take the time to undo my own pants before I work my way back up starting at their knee and kissing my way up their inner thighs. I get to their penis and it’s as smooth and hairless as the rest of them. Meticulously groomed. I begin to move from their thigh to their cock when they say something, through a shiver.

“W-wait!” I pause, wondering if they’d decided not to continue, and look up at them, mouth nearly to the base of their shaft. “I want to see your face while you do it.”

I chuckle and give them permission. “Go on then.” Their hands were already on their way to the ties of my mask, and it takes them little time to remove it. It feels good to have it off, I hadn’t noticed how hot my face was getting under it. They look, but don’t say anything for a moment. I sit back on my heels and take their cock in my hand, running my thumb up it’s underside. “What about you? Take yours off for me?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath with the actions of my fingers. They hesitate just a second before reaching back and removing their mask.

It’s not exactly a secret that I like partners who’re older than me, so anyone who knows me knows I’m absolutely delighted with the face now displayed to me. They’re a little older than me, with sharp features already flushed red, though trying very hard to maintain some semblance of dignity.

Just gorgeous.

I continue holding them and return to where I left off, maintaining eye contact as I my way up their shaft, until I’m at its head. I drag my tongue along the underside before I close my lips around the tip.

They start off really tight lipped, as if they didn’t just silence the room. I take it as a challenge at this point. It doesn’t take long to get into a rhythm that elicits some nice noise.

At a point their hand comes forward to try to grab my head. In response I grab their wrist and pin it to their stomach with a hum in the negative, mouth still in place, unmoving.

They nod quickly and I continue as I was, releasing their wrist and giving them a soft tap on their outer thigh. From there it’s so tempting to drag things out for more delightful sounds, but I don’t tease. Their muscles tighten and I’m ‘treated’ to a rather bitter taste that I probably should have expected. They’re clearly a drinker.

I rise from my kneeling position only to be pulled into another rough kiss. Not angry, just a needy hunger radiating off them. They begin to move backwards further onto the bed, pulling me along so that I have to climb onto it after them. They push me gently to the side into the pillows, so that I’m mostly sitting, but reclined there. I watch them reach over me to some shelves behind the headboard, grabbing a bottle and uncorking it.

They pause, looking at me a moment. “It’s been-” They pause, considering something.

“Take your time.” I say, sensing their hesitation.

They shake their head and pour what is clearly an oil-based lubricant into their hand. They apply it liberally to my erection, while muttering something I can’t quite catch. It’s surprisingly warm on my skin.

They straddle me, reaching back to help guide themself onto me. I grab their hips to help steady them. It seems they need to take it slow. Perhaps it’s been a while? If I’d known this was on the agenda I’d have done something to help them be ready, but I’m not sure that even they knew we were going to do this.

I kiss their collarbone and neck as they settle in and rest their head on my shoulder, “You’re alright, Gorgeous. Just let me know if you need to stop.”

They scoff, then bite my neck with some force before starting to move - slowly at first, almost agonizingly so. “Don’t patronize me.”

I bite them back. Two can play at this game. “I’m trying to be considerate.”

They start picking up the pace, and through a self inflicted gasp, “I know what I’m doing.”

“So it appears.” I groan into their shoulder. I post my legs to try and gain a little bit of leverage and move my hands to lock behind their ass as they move upwards.

“What are you-?!” They’re silenced as their balance shifts forward and I flip up so they’re on their back. Thankfully there’s an ample pile of pillows that gives us a lot of space before the headboard.

I reposition myself so we can resume from here, “Getting a change of scenery. The bedding frames you better.” It looks like they’re about to retort, but I’m lucky and my first thrust finds a spot that makes it come out a moan instead.

I reach down to their shaft and attempt to match rhythm with my hips as I get closer. They reach their climax again just before I do. I rest my forehead in the crook of their neck as I cum, and I feel legs unwrap from my waist and gripping fingers release the flesh of my back.

I kiss them and pull out. Mumbling a few words, I magic the mess away. A small thing; many people with an education can manage that. It shouldn’t be a problem. I move to the side, off of them, and I notice their confusion about not having a mess to deal with on their abdomen. But nothing is said about it as we lay there, breathing hard.

They seem to recover first, sitting up and examining the blankets. I get a peculiar look from them as they reach for the folded down duvet to pull over us both.

I shrug, “Old habits.” Better living through magic.

They’re of the opinion that I may as well stay until morning. I’m grateful as I settle in next to them and quickly fall asleep.

---

As sleep abandons me, I can feel that I’m not in my own bed, and it’s immediately evident I’m not alone either. My companion from last night is still here too fast asleep, his arm draped over me. I look at him with sober eyes. He’s slim and a little older than I am, with cheekbones you could kill a man with, and large lips that seem to be stuck in that frown of his. A long black to blonde ombre braid snakes out behind him on the pillow. I reach out and brush back a lock of hair as he stirs a little. Golden eyes open and regard me cooly.

I smile, “Good Morning, Gorgeous.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes, then grimaces. He must have a hangover. He wraps the blanket around himself as he turns over winding up with his back to me.

“I take it you don’t want to go with me to get some food then?” I laugh, I’m not the kind of person to just sneak off in the morning, but it seems like he wishes I were. He mumbles an affirmative and goes quiet.

Oh well, I offered.

With the blanket now denied me, I roll out of the bed onto my feet and stretch before looking around. We’d just tossed our things all over the place, it seems. I collect my bag and withdraw a wooden figurine to focus a spell. After a moment the scattered belongings begin to lift off the ground and are folded by an invisible force then set neatly aside. I leave it to finish cleaning and go into the adjacent washroom to freshen up, a change of clothes from my bag in hand.

When I return, he’s where I left him, but my Unseen Servant has done its job. I run a hand over both neatly stacked outfits and magic away the night’s grime, before putting my own outfit safely in my pack. When I get to my mask I pause and look at the golden ram mask. I take it and leave my own in its stead. A Masquerade ‘tradition’. I tie it to my belt before going to my companion one last time.

I place a hand on his head and cast a spell to rid him of that hangover. I smirk and give him a final kiss on the cheek, “I’m sorry about the wine, Gorgeous.”

Then I head out the door.

#The Mask Wall #heron phan #Gorgeous #i did it i posted it!

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spartanxhunterx · 5 years

Text

Miraculous comeuppance

A short story based on @isitsusi 's miraculous idea. Honestly couldn't get this out my head and had to write it. But two things first, I haven't watched a lot of MLB and I've changed the prompt a little. (I added Chloe, cause that girl needs redemption)

In the three years, four months and two weeks of being the - somewhat proud - owner of a miraculous, Marinette had never expected it to come to this. She had never anticipated that she would be able to see the end of her journey, the end of the fight.

The defeat of hawkmoth.

Or at least she had that planned for later. She was at the park currently, under the shade of a tree, a notebook and many, many pictures before her. All of them the same, yet not, each a different angle taken of the agrest mansion. To her left sat her friend, boyfriend and superhero partner Chat Noir, untransformed as his civilian self Adrien.

Some few weeks ago he had come to her - as ladybug - with vital information, the identity of Hawkmoth. Gabriel Agrest.

When asked, he said he had seen him transform, not directly, he had been peeking into his father's office to see him and had just... Seen it.

The reveal that immediately followed was messy, sputtering, blushing and a whole week of avoiding each other until they got their act together. Then they were unstoppable, both in and out the mask.

They defeated akumas faster, more effectively. Out of the mask the two were a power duo, who's unwavering loyalty was known by many of their ex-friends.

Now, the two of were planning just how to take him down and reclaim both the stolen miraculous. Well, they were just making complete sure that they understood everything before making a move really, the planning was done.

"Ugh, could you two stop being cute for like five minutes." The superhero duo looked up to the third member of their team, Chloe borgulous. "The last thing I need is getting a cavity cause of you two."

Yes, Chloe borgulous was the one the two of them trusted the most, enough to earn back her miraculous. Even after the events of Miracle Queen, it was quite easy to hide her identity again, change the comb into a bracelet, change the hero's costume and give her a new name. Now no-one knew that she was the new bee flying around. She even got to keep the miraculous on her person permanently.

Pollen was good for her anyway.

Chloe placed down a familiar box, filled with baked goods from the dupan-cheng bakery.

"I should warn you though, we've got a..." She jabbed her thumb behind her towards a large and recognisable group. "Possible situation."

" Ignore them chloe, they're not important. " Marinette partially turned her nose up when she saw their classmates across the way, having what looked to be a picnic. She could already make out Lila, no doubt in the middle of weaving another tall tail of how she had saved an animal, knew a celebrity or had just done something impossible.

"This is important," she tapped the notebook with one hand as she reached for the box with the other before it was slapped away. She couldn't help but give a glare at the blonde girl. Both knew it wasn't real anyway.

" They're not just for you Mari, the cheese bread is for Plagg, The honey glazed donut is for Pollen and the cookies are for Tikki. " Oh, yeah. She was even in on their identities. "The rest is for us."

Before either of the three could blink the three aforementioned Kwamis had zipped out of their chosens clothes pockets, grabbed their snacks and had snuck back into a little nook in their clothes that hid them from view of the public eye. They were none the wiser.

"Alright, so you two understand the plan right? Cause I don't want to leave anything to chance."

Chloe hummed as she bit into her croissant, savoring the flavour before swallowing it down. "Wait for an Akuma, kick its ass without using our powers, go to Hawkdouch's house, kick his Ass, save the day."

Plagg and Pollen both giggled while Adrien gave a quiet chuckle while Marinette groaned but had an amused smile on her face.

"Ok, so you remember the back up plan should we fail and our identities be revealed?"

" if we fail then Hawkmoth will have our miraculous, there is no back up plan for that. " Adrien slumped his arm around Mari's shoulder, giving her a tentative squeeze. "We do have a plan for after outing my... My father's identity."

" We also have a plan should we win and reveal our identities, so we're covered on all fronts. " Chloe moved one hand down to pet pollen on the head, reassuring herself that she still wasn't dreaming.

"Yeah well I jus- Chloe on your six." Quicker then anything the kwami's flew back into their Chosen's pockets , abandoning their food. Mari had packed up the pictures and notebook, not wanting to leave anything out in the open.

Chloe turned to see several of their classmates quickly heading their way, Alya up front with a crocodile tear crying Lila at the back of the group. Yes group, most of the class was also coming along with the two of them.

What lie had she said now?

The trio quickly stood, not wanting to be left sat on the floor while everyone would stand above them. They couldn't get a word out before Alya had rounded on to them.

"What is wrong with you!?"

She sighed, Adrien wrapped and arm around her waist as he leaned his chin on her shoulder and Chloe simple rolled her eyes at the tabloid writer.

"I think that question is best when directed at you, don't you think?" Marinette couldn't stop the snort that erupted from her mouth at Chloe's words and it only brought on a glare from her ex-friend.

"You think this is funny!? Is this some kind of joke to you!? Not only have you three been the worst people I could ever have the displeasure of knowing but I can't believe you three out attack Lila... Again!"

This time Chloe snorted before dragging her hand up to look at her nails lazily. "Please, as if I'd dare risk the chance of breaking my nails, even if it meant putting a scratch on her. She's simply not worth it."

"Then explain the many bruises she has on her. " The 'Bruises' she had was nothing but a small smudge on the lower bottom of her right cheek. Honestly how stupid could they be?

Best not to get an answer.

If they were to attack Lila? There be a lot more then one mark smaller then that of a baby's fist.

"Alya, it's probably best you leave, the rest of you too. We were having a... Nice day before you bothered us." Mari rolled her eyes at her boyfriends passive behaviour but understood that it stemmed from not wanting to draw his father's gaze, especially now.

"No, I don't think we will. At least not until I put you three menaces straight. " The trio turned towards the new voice.

a girl that they hadn't seen before or noticed among the group. A first glance they could tell she was slightly taller then Marinette, her hair a dark shade of blue that made Marinette's hair seem brighter in comparison, clearly it was dyed. Her facial features conformed similarly to her as well, slightly. As small glance while in a darker environment might have you mistake the two of them but only an idiot would do so outside of those conditions. Her hair was even tied up just like Marinette's too, although it looked really sloppy.

"And you are?" Chloe had already puffed out, an air of superiority emanating from her.

"I am Brigitte, a friend of Lila." Oh, great just what they needed, another sheep to follow the wolf. "I am also Ladybug."

Wait. What?

it took a moment before it registered but when it did the three of them just put laughing, Chloe had to hold her stomach while Marinette and Adrien had to hold each other up and stop themselves from falling over.

"Of course you are, and I'm still queen bee and adrien's father is actually competent." She sneered at the false bluentte before turning her nose up at her. She couldn't believe this girl, to claim to be someone she wasn't.

"Well I am, the only reason I am gracing you with that information is because I can't approach you three in my uniform, not unless I wanted to attract unnecessary attention." Brigitte turned her nose up at Chloe trying, and failing, to put the blonde girl in line.

"Alright then, why are you going around telling everyone your identity then? Surely it's not safe to share that information with a tabloid journalist."

Alya sputtered slightly. " I am a reporter, not some low grade tabloid writer. "

"Keep telling yourself that. You might just believe it."

The only thing that stopped Alya from lunging for Chloe was Ivan , who had grabbed her to hold her back. At the back Of the group Lila out on a who new set of false tears and began to shake her shoulders, as if she was truly heartbroken.

"All I've ever tried to do was be your friend, to all of you, and this is how you treat me? It's all I've ever wanted really and you three keep pushing me away." Of course the immediate action taken up by everyone else was to glare at the trio while rose and Sabrina comforted the sausage haired girl.

Adrien sometimes questions why he wanted them to be his friends, what has he seen in them before?

"Right," and now false-bug was talking again. "As my authority as ladybug I hereby ban the three of you from ever being near my friends again."

" Works for us. "

"I will also have to send you three down to the station, I do believe the three of you are working for Hawkmoth, given the number of Akuma that the three of you have caused."

That caused the three of them to straighten up, not because of the threat but because of the clear misuse of a non-existent power.

"Hey, Chloe has changed a lot in the past few months and me and Adrien have cause two maybe three Akumas over the past three years, if we're going on who had caused the most Akumas then you should arrest Lila. " Mari removed herself from her boyfriend before walking up to her not quite accurate doppelganger.

"Besides I'm not convinced you are ladybug, where's your Miraculous, I don't see them. "

"Like I'd actually wear them out in public, putting them at risk like that. besides why would I reveal them When I suspect that you work for Hawkmoth, would be pretty stupid on my part wouldn't it? "

"Sorry dudes, " Nino spoke, doing his best to help Ivan calm down Alya. "But she makes a point, it would be pretty dumb and reckless."

" Just like plastering her face and confession onto a well known website in case Hawkmoth ever saw it... But I suppose I shouldn't have to worry right? " Alya blanched slightly before she sunk back at adriens words.

before anyone else could say anything a loud shout echoed across the yard, sending everyone's fight or flight instincts into overdrive.

"I AM MOTHER NATURE! AN I WILL COVER THIS CITY WITH THE SEEDS OF THE EARTH!"

Each member of the class had shrunk in on themselves , trying to look as small as possible, even their 'ladybug '. The real superhero trio stood up tall, shoulders squaring out as they looked for the akuma, many plants were growing rapidly on the other side of the park but everyone has already ran away.

"Go on ladybug, save us. "

"Come on, go kick their ass LB."

" Show Hawkmoth that he's nothing. "

Brigitte, for her part, actually began to back off from the group, clearly neither she nor Lila had expected a real akuma to show up, how would it look if the real ladybug showed up while she was stood there?

Fortunately for them the class was in for one big show.

While that was happening the trio was staring at each other, having a mental conversation that transcended anything anyone else could have understood, after a moment the tree of them nodded.

"Full theatrics?"

Marinette hummed at adriens question before nodding. "Fuck It, why not? "

"Tikki."

"Plagg."

"Pollen."

The class had turned to them quickly , those that had used miraculous before dropping their jaws.

"Spots on." "Claws Out. " "Buzz On."

Just for the sake of running it in their classmates faces each of them went through their old routine , showing off what they posed as they transformed before their very eyes.

Before anyone could say anything, the three were gone, already fighting the akuma as a well oiled machine.

They watched, stunned, as they managed to do it without the use of any of their powers. They watched as they left the scene all three bounding off in the same direction.

later that day the trio would drop a beaten and bloody Gabriel and his assistant, they have a short speech on that they had won, Hawkmoth was defeated, the threat was no more, Paris was safe. Th he people were safe to weap once more.

The next day Alya had tried to go to the bakery to speak to Marinette but she had been quickly chased out by her large father, later that day the bakery put out a sign stating they were closing down.

A week passed and they were gone, without a trace, no-one has seen them since the incident at the park. They were gone without a trace.

#miraculous ladybug #au prompt #miraculous salt #chloe redemption #i got tired at the end #so don't judge the quality #it's 2:30am #bite me

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whirlybirbs · 5 years

Text

; --- SHATTERED HILT / 01

summary: ru’kali survives order 66. cal kestis does, too. while cal spends his days on bracca, stripping starships for parts, ru spends her days earning her protection from the empire in the fighting pits on ordo eris; both do what it takes to survive. but, when a wayward quest and a plethora of owed debts lead cal kestis straight back to his fellow padawan -- a once shy girl turned raging fire -- the pit fighter is left with a choice: leave, or spend the rest of her life a pawn in a game much bigger than her. pairing: cal kestis / original female character, ru’kali lof word count: 2k a/n: i cannot remember the last time i wrote something that wasn’t a reader-insert, and i’m not sure how this will do -- feedback is genuinely appreciated on this, since i know i’m mostly a reader writer! everyone loved ru from her intro to my clone trooper squad, which you can read here!

Ru’kali Lof startles awake to the sound of three loud, rough bangs on the door to her quarters.

She wonders bitterly, as she blinks up at the ceiling, if she can just ignore the sound. With any luck, they’ll leave her alone and Ru can go back to bed --

Then, the knocks come again. Louder and faster.

“Rise ‘n’ shine, sweetheart!”

Ru snarls.

Beneath the durasteel door, she can see the long shadow of someone shifting back and forth in their boots -- immediately, the Mirialan, as she stands and throws herself to the door, knows it’s Atticus. The sheer bombastic chaos that follows the bounty hunter swims through the force to greet her before she even opens the door.

When she does, he’s got an arm on the doorframe and he’s leering.

Atticus Rex isn’t much to look at, nor is he kind nor smart, but he’s muscle -- his head is shaved in a tight buzz, littered with scars, and his muzzled grin is picked clean with a toothpick that hangs from his lips.

He smells like day-old ale and sweat.

“Where y’ been, Ru?”

It leaks out of him like a jab. She has to restrain the snarl that threatens to leap across her face. Her attitude is sharp and wants to go straight for the Haxion Brood Lieutenant’s throat.

“Asleep,” she bites, crossing her arms and cocking a hip as she goes to hit the switch and shut the door, “Do you mind?”

Atticus snorts, hand planted on the frame and forcing the door to stay open.

Ru leans back, peering into her room, to eye the chronometer hanging on the wall. The digits read 1038 -- it’s late, and she’d finally fallen asleep after she’d managed to quiet down the usual roaring river in her mind. Not an easy task.

"Get dressed,” the Bounty Hunter chirps, “S’ fight night, sunshine.”

Fight nights were common.

But, fight nights were Ru fought? Those were rare -- and though she’s sure Sorc Tormo would put her in the ring every night if he could, she’s also aware that to the Umbaran crime-lord she’s an asset. A big asset. A big, money-making asset that draws a big crowd and big bets.

Huge bets.

(The exact kind of bets that got Greez Dritus into this mess in the first place, and by proxy his new-found friend.)

Ordo Eris, on fight nights, becomes more like a city than the cold, lonely, terrible astroid colony it really is. The space station fills with scoundrels and thugs from all across the galaxy who traverse the rocky space around the arena’s hub to get a spot around the ring -- Ru eyes the growing crowd, nearly every attendee with credits in hand, as the lift carries her upwards to the top level of the arena’s loge.

Beside her Atticus flicks the smoldering bud of his deathstick down the shaft.

Speaking of Sorc Tormo, the sleaze ball greets Ru’kali with wide open arms and a devious grin.

“Ah! My prized warrior princess!”

Ru cross her arms and swaggers forward -- the small rope of lucky beads tied to her sash tinkers as she does, knocking against the chromium smelted hilt of one of her two sabers. One is hers from when she was a Padawan. The other is a recent build and it’s temperamental. Using a stolen, mined kyber crystal is to blame, no doubt.

Master Yoda was right -- the crystals are supposed to pick the Jedi.

Atticus meanders along behind you. Skulking as per usual.

Ru looks out past the arena to the screens bolted up along the pit. Pale blue eyes narrow tightly, the deep scar over her right eye warping slightly as she does. The broadcast is in the lower levels. Some idiot running around on the walls. Plugging wires in.

A show, for sure.

Ru raise a brow.

“What’s all this about?” she asks, turning to eye Sorc Tormo.

The Umbaran man is eccentric, to say the least. His facial hair runs right down his chin in one fine line, green in color. That same green, punchy and vomit-reminiscent, echoes in his Canto Bight-esque outfit. Large, pompous sleeves and pants that are three sizes too tight. All green.

He looks like seventy kliks of bad road, honestly.

Hell, everyone on Ordo Eris does.

Ru’kali is no exception -- she’s rougher than she was when she first arrived here. Littered in scars and bitter. The years of pit fighting have settled in her stance and though she’s athletic, she’s a rogue brawler with enough crackling, dangerous rage to power an entire Star Destroyer.

Fighting takes the edge off. Makes her feel less afraid.

“Well,” the lone, pale fingers of the Umbaran curl around Ru’kali’s pale pink shoulders, nails drumming against the diamond shaped markings there, “I am glad you asked, my dear. We have a special contender for you --”

“Cut to the chase, Tormo.”

The egg shaped head of the Umbaran rolls as he steps away, waving off Ru’s evident irritation; the crime-lord gestures to the screen. “He’s friends with someone who owes me a lotta money. He was carrying this around --”

His fingers snap twice.

“Atticus --”

Ru’kali was not expecting Atticus Rex to procure, from the back of his belt, a lightsaber.

And she certainly wasn’t expecting him to hand it to Tormo and for the Umbaran to ignite it, presenting a glimmering yellow blade.

The Mirialan’s face falls -- anger bubbles up there, warping the navy tattooed features of her face as she steps forward and yanks the hilt from the hands of the crime-lord.

Her lips twitches.

“What?” she sneers vengefully, “Did he pull this from a corpse, then?”

She has seen another Jedi’s saber three times now in this station. Once on the belt of a traveler who’d laughed in her face and waved the blue thing around, proudly proclaiming they’d bought it off clone trooper for drinking money. The second time, on a bounty hunter -- he’d murdered a Jedi Knight for Imperial credits, kept the blade though. The third, was now.

Ru could only assume the weapon to be another stolen relic, a ground-in-the-dirt memory of her life before Ordo Eris. This contender probably had no idea how to use it, let alone the life this saber had before now.

A laxidasical wave. “Maybe. Don’t care. But! My sweet, sweet, Jedi -- I want you to kill him. Seeing two saber swordsmen dueling... Goodness, me oh my, that will certainly bring in the money, won’t it, Atticus?”

“Sure will.”

And it does.

Cal Kestis is having a pretty shit day.

Not that he’d ever say so -- no, because, sure, it might be terrible and he might be navigating some wild underground dungeon maze, but Cal has BD-1 back on his shoulder and that’s all that matters.

He’s got a mission, he’s got BD-1, and despite being a little sore, he’s good. All good. Everything’s good. Totally good.

As he rides the lift to the upper levels of this... place... Cal wonders if he’s gonna eat that sentiment.

The first thing he hears is the chants -- raucous roars of a large crowd. Before him lays a large square space, illuminated by stark spotlights and swarmed with drone droids, each with blinking red lights on their helms to show their recording status.

It becomes abundantly clear to Cal that he’s suddenly in the spotlight. And, that the itching feeling that he was being watched was correct.

The redheaded Jedi steps out from under the bay, suddenly exposed to the bright light of the arena.

Around him on the upper decks are hundreds of people, all clamoring to get a view of him -- the large screens on the sides of the loge show him squinting, raising a hand and grimacing into the light.

BD-1 gives a worried boowoop.

“I got a bad feeling about this too, lil’ buddy.”

Suddenly, a holo-projection fizzles in before Cal -- large and tall and to the excitement of the crowd. The man’s appearance is met with a rise in cheers, rolling off the voices of the spectators with thirst for action.

Sorc Tormo laughs.

“Ah, finally he arrives!”

The projection waves wildly, spinning about, and Cal watches carefully as this eccentric ego-maniac waves his hand with a grandiose flourishes as he speaks.

“We had action on how long it would take for you to get here!”

Yeah, well, BD-1 was kinda his priority.

Irritation bites at Cal’s features. The Jedi scowls. His stance is tense.

“And who are you?” Cal calls out, voice rising over the roar of the crowd.

“Ha ha ha! Who am I? I’m Sorc Tormo, baby! I’m the boss of this operation!”

The crowd goes wild at that, whoops and hollers serenading the arena to the tune of the crimelord’s name. A television drone swoops close to Cal’s head and the Jedi side-steps it with a disgusted look on his face.

“Right,” Cal snarks, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“Maybe not you, but to your friend Greezy Four-arms it does! You’ve got him to thank for gettin’ you into this pickle!”

Of course.

Cere had made a comment off-hand about the pilot’s penchant for gambling -- not that Cal was any stranger to the concept. Back on Bracca, Prauf had muscled Cal into tagging along to a few card games here and there. And though the redhead never partook in wagering his entire week’s pay on precious metals, Prauf had once or twice. On those nights that Prauf lost -- because he always lost -- there was nothing that could lift the Abednedo’s mood.

Not even a signature Cal Kestis smile 'n’ pat on the back.

Cal could use one of those right about now.

“Yeah, well, once I’m finished with you, I will thank Greez,” it comes out just as cocky as it feels -- and maybe Cal shouldn’t had tried the attitude.

Either way, when this Sorc Tormo guy laughs and waves his hand, proclaiming, “No, no, my friend, you won’t be fighting me...”

Suddenly, the air becomes electric.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the crime-lord turns on a heel, gesturing to the crowd with the all the practiced cool of an entertainer, “Our lovely little guest will be going head to head with our favorite...”

There’s a crescendo of excitement. Cal notices an uptick on the counter on the broadcast screens -- he realize, quickly, that they’re bets and currently, someone named Fropolo’f is betting the most money against him. Real confidence booster that is.

“Someone get baby his toy! He’s gonna need it!”

His lightsaber is launched from the loge, and the Jedi catches it quickly, igniting it on instinct as his skin crawls in anticipation. The redhead looks around, eyes cast on the crowds of smugglers and thugs lining the balcony.

The wide angle shot of fear on his face is painted across the rumbling arena’s screens.

Before Cal can bite in a retort, the echo of boots on durasteel begins -- coordinated and rhythmic. Boom... boom... boom... boom, boom, boom.

“You know her well -- a pure whirlwind of rage! She’s pink, she’s tatted, she’s daaaaaaaangerous!”

Boom-boom-boom. Boom-boom-boom.

BD makes a nervous boo-weeeeeeeep as the pace picks up. Cal swallows, gloved fist tightening nervously around the hilt of his glowing, golden blade. Green eyes dart around the square expanse of the arena, trying to get a gauge on where this opponent might appear from --

“Give it up for our girl...”

Boomboomboom, boomboomboom.

“RUUUUUUUU’KALLLLI!”

The roar is deafening.

Suddenly, the paneling in the floor separates, and from it emerges --

“...Ru?”

Ru’kali Lof is suddenly staring face-to-face with a ghost.

Her stance, wide-set with double blades humming in a hot white, seems to crack when she finally sees the face of her opponent.

She’s a handful of meters away but she’d know that flash of red hair anywhere.

Cal Kestis.

Cal fucking Kestis.

Oh, this is bad.

This is really bad.

#cal kestis x oc #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x original character #cal x oc #cal kestis fanfic #this feels so weird to be writing in a diff POV tbh #let me know what you think #genuinely bc this is a dif take from what i usually do!#shattered hilt

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writingwithadinosaur · 5 years

Text

“A Helping Hand” - Oneshot?

“A Helping Hand” - Oneshot

My Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Malcolm Bright x Reader

Word Count: 3,082

Key: Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color Chunks or lines of text that are in italics means that its (Y/N)’s thoughts.

Warnings: Cursing, Violence, Death (Murder Victim), Anxiety, Fears/Phobias (Specifically focusing on sharp objects, bugs/insects, water, and the fear of imperfection), Gunshot, Talk of Suicide, the joys of writing about a serial killer based on fear.

Summary: Working a serial killer case hits a bit close to home with the latest victim. Malcolm offers a helping hand.

Author’s Note: This all started because I tried to think of how Malcolm would handle a situation involving someone who suffers from dermatillomania. This is a bit of a selfish piece because my own anxiety, depression, and ADHD manifest itself in the form of skin picking and biting a lot.

Please read the warnings because this is a bit heavy with death and anxiety and fear talk. I do hope that this ends up making you smile though.

This is not beta-read so please let me know if there are any mistakes!

If you guys like this story or want this “Scarecrow” killer to be continued, let me know. I already have a little bit of an idea on how to make this into a series. <3

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

- DreaSaurusREX

~~~~~~~~

You weren’t a rookie by any means, you have been in law enforcement and a little bit of psychology backgrounds for the last 5 years. But you were the newest member in this part of the NYPD.

You really didn’t have a choice but to grow with and trust your team with the crazy shit that’s happened over the last few months. Lately, everyone has been going crazy trying over a serial killer dubbed as the “Scarecrow.” He or she took inspiration from the Batman villain and started to prey on people with phobias.

Malcolm had some theories, but for now all you knew was the type of person that the killer targeted and no other obvious correlation between the victims. While Gil, JT, and Dani went out for lunch, Malcolm was at his desk going over the file while you found yourself stuck in the big meeting room during your break, staring at the board full of what your team had so far, trying to find anything that had somehow gone overlooked.:

Vic #1 - Omar Klinden. 25 years old. In a relationship, boyfriend’s alibi checked out. Omar was an entomophobe, someone that fears any sort of bug or insect. He was found tied to a chair in a storage unit that had three walls full of different types of bugs in glass cases, a tarantula, a handful of cockroaches, and some flesh-eating bugs on him. Cause of death was strangulation.

Vic #2 - Daphne Stewards. 26 years old. Single. Hydrophobe, someone that fears water. Found hanging above her bathtub full of water. Shallow tubs of water were laid all over the floor, preventing her from walking away if she had somehow gotten the noose from around her neck. Cause of death was hanging.

Vic #3 - Giorgio Lucinta. 33 years old. Single. Aichmophobe, someone that fears needles or pointed objects. Found tied to his dining room table with a multitude of knives, needles, and scissors stuck in the table and hanging from the lamp above the table. Multiple cuts were found over his body. Cause of death was loss of blood.

The victims didn’t know each other. All three were in therapy for their phobias, but they all saw different therapists. Each body was found in different areas of the city. The only thing connecting them was the fact that before they died, they were tortured by being forced to endure their own personal fears before being murdered.

Scarecrow isn’t physically taking anything from the victims, which means what they are taking from the victims is pleasure. They enjoy seeing people in complete and unfiltered fear for their lives. Each murder has shown more and more craftsmanship. They have been taking more and more time to set up something elaborate with each victim. They--

Before you could keep going, the door behind you opened to Malcolm with a sort of excited smile on his face.

“Gil called. We got a body.”

~~~~

“Victim is Wendy Undurmein. 26 years old. She was an analyst at the Cyrane theater down the road.” Gil gave you the rundown before you even entered the building.

“Cause of death?” You asked while slipping on some gloves, interested to know why you and Malcolm were called.

“Gunshot wound to the head. It looks like suicide.”

“So then why are we here?” You could hear the slight annoyance in Malcolm’s voice, as if the case wasn’t interesting enough for him.

Gil just motioned for you to follow him. He lead you through the apartment building and onto the third floor. JT and Dani were in the hallway, talking to a couple who you assumed to be the neighbors of the victim. Behind the normal yellow crime scene tape on the door of apartment 3538 made you realize why Gil called.

Wendy was tied to a chair in what you think to be the dining room, except every piece of furniture was replaced with an excessive amount of mirrors and lights circling and pointing at the chair in the center of the room.

“This is why I called you in.” Gil steps aside and lets you and Malcolm begin your observations.

You started by looking at the victim, Wendy. She looked younger than 26. Her shaggy bobbed brunette hair framed her delicate facial features. She was most likely wearing what she wore to work that morning. She had been wearing makeup, but you could see where some of it melted away from the tear tracks seen around her eyes and down her cheeks.

She was tied to a nicer made wood chair, but only by her waist and ankles. Odd for a supposed suicide victim to tie herself up before shooting herself. Her head was thrown to the side, from the gunshot wound on her right temple. You follow her right arm down to the floor where the gun would have landed after she shot herself, but there was no gun in sight.

While you were inspecting Wendy, Malcolm was wandering the scene, absorbing everything he could and trying to figure out the meaning of the mirrors and lights or the reason why the rest of the apartment looked normal compared to this single room.

“Where’s the gun?” You peak through a break between a couple of mirrors and find Gil watching Malcolm to make sure he doesn’t mess anything up. He shrugged his shoulders a little bit as he answered you.

“No gun.”

“What do you mean ‘no gun?’ Unless I’m seeing things, she has a bullet hole in her skull.”

“I mean there was no gun found at the scene of the crime.” Gil shifted his gaze to you tilting his head slightly, making it really click as to why you were called.

“Someone else was here before, during, or after this all happened.” Malcolm piped out the now obvious truth from behind one of the mirrors, inspecting it to see if there was anything odd about it. Dani and JT walked in as he spoke.

“I’m assuming before and during. Right after the gunshot was heard, the neighbors called 911 and reported it. When they came in, it was just Wendy here.”

You panned around the scene, trying to find anything else, but then you realized that no one had mentioned the elephant in the room: The mirrors and lights.

“All of this makes a bit more sense if there was someone else here.” Malcolm motioned to the setup, no one spoke up.

He turned to you as if to ask, “What? You don’t see it?” And you had to admit that you could see some possible things, but you were sure that he had a bigger and more coherent picture in his head. You motioned for him to go on.

“These are set up to make sure that Wendy had nowhere else to look other than at herself. The lights are set up so that virtually no shadows would be cast on any part of her, making every pore, line, and hair visible.” He stood behind the chair with Wendy’s body still tied to it, looking at every mirror to see the different angles. “I gotta say that some of these angles are pretty unflattering.” He paused, thinking out loud. “Maybe that was the point: To show the imperfections.”

“Could also be the reason why she wore so much makeup. To try to hide any blemishes,” Dani spoke up.

You and Malcolm swapped. Now he was inspecting the victim and you looked at the scene. But you didn’t look at the mirrors, you looked at the rest of the apartment. Everything was in order. The bed was made as if it was a hotel bed, the towels on the towel racks were perfectly hung. She had awards and degrees hung up perfectly aligned on her wall. Showcasing her achievements.

Imperfections. The word kept sticking out in your brain when something clicked: She was trying to prove that she wasn’t a screw up; that she was doing good things and good work. She wanted to be as perfect as she could be.

As you kept looking and piecing more and more together, Malcolm’s discoveries validated your theory.

“She has small cuts around her fingers as if she was picking or biting at them. Her lips look bitten up too.”

“So? It’s New York and it's been cold out. Maybe it's just the weather making her skin dry or somethin’?” JT questioned.

“Check the inside of her cheeks.” You speak up, a bit panicked from the kitchen, finding everything in picturesque form like the rest of the apartment. You had also found the various pills on her counter. One bottle was paroxetine, an SSRI for treating chronic anxiety disorders, making your thoughts race as you realized the possible severity of this case.

“Excuse me?” Gil spoke up, confused as to where you were going. Malcolm had looked away from Wendy to watch you walk back towards them, noticing small psychological hints that the others wouldn’t. Your eyes were flicking to different parts of Wendy, your breathing was slightly shaky, and you had a look that told him that you were trying to keep your cool while your mind was frantic.

You kept your breathing as controlled as you could, but you felt your chest tightening. You know these signs because you have lived through them. You tried to not focus on your hands while you explained your thought process.

“I think this may be a Scarecrow victim.”

Gil walked up next to you, you felt yourself starting to nip at the insides of your cheeks as he whispered “Are you sure? This doesn’t look like it fits his profile. We can’t just throw that out in the air without knowing 100%...”

Malcolm was curious but cautious, so he stayed silent as you went on, keeping a close eye on you to see if you were going to be okay.

“Wendy had anxiety. She--”

“So does most of New York. That doesn’t mean she’s a Scarecrow Vic.” JT quipped.

“Hear her out.” Malcolm defended before giving his attention to you, motioning for you to go on.

“Wendy had anxiety. It could be generalized anxiety disorder, but I think it's more than just ‘generalized.’ You kept saying imperfections and it made me realize how much she valued perfection… and feared imperfection. The fear of imperfection is called Atelophobia. It also means to fear not being good enough.”

You were visually focusing on Wendy’s body, but as you said “phobia” you saw Gil step away, sigh, and run his hand over his face from the corner of your eye. He, and everyone else in the room, were beginning to believe that this was the work of their serial killer. Malcolm knew about the phobia, but kept listening to see how far you could explain before needing help.

“She has her proudest achievements hanging perfectly on her wall to try to validate herself. Her lips are chewed up and there are signs of permanent damage at the skin around her fingers where they’ve been continuously picked at for an extended period of time.”

You subconsciously hold your hands and try to not scratch. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Malcolm.

“Wendy saw or felt when her skin would get dry and start to peel and view those as imperfections, making her pick and bite until she couldn’t anymore. She was trying to get rid of the mistakes.” You paused, trying to keep yourself in check. “And I’m sure if you look at the inside of her cheeks, they’ll be bitten up too.”

You were going to try to explain the mirror set up in correlation to the phobia, but your hands started to shake as you thought about your struggle with anxiety. Malcolm could see that you were unsettled by something and took over, seeing how it all worked together.

“The killer set these mirrors up for the reason we said earlier: to make Wendy see herself. They manipulated her into seeing all of the lines or dots or blemishes or what have you, progressively making her more and more scared of herself. Knowing that this phobia stretches to the idea of not being good enough, the killer most likely pointed out examples of when she messed up. Even the smallest of mistakes could set off Wendy’s spiral. They then gave her a choice to either live in fear and shame or to kill herself. And after exposing her to her phobia so intensely, she chose the gun.”

You just nodded as turned to walk out of the room, not making eye contact with anyone as you quietly said “I need to get some air.”

Gil turned to follow you and see if you were okay, but Malcolm was already on it as he put a hand up to Gil that said, “I got this.”

You found the exit to the alley behind the apartment building and found a spot against the wall to sit, close your eyes, and try to breathe. As soon as you sat down, you unknowingly start picking at the cuticles around your nails, old habits coming back. Your chest was tight and you couldn’t slow down the shirt, quick breaths that fled your panicked lungs.

You heard someone open the door a minute after you and thought nothing of it until you heard someone sit a respectable distance from you. You didn’t bother opening your eyes figuring it was Gil or Dani.

“Hey. If you don’t get your heart rate down, you're going to pass out.”

Your eyes shot open as you realized that Malcolm was the one that came to check on you. After a second, you realized that it made sense why he would come out to try and help. He has a better understanding of psychology than anyone on the team. All you could do was nod your head in understanding because you knew that you had to calm down, but it was just harder than expected.

“Would it help to try to follow my breathing?” You nodded your head, which prompted Malcolm to sit a bit closer next to you against the wall, making his breaths more audible. Slowly but surely, your breathing started to even out. Malcolm reached to his side and produced a water bottle that he had gotten from his car.

“Here. Take a couple small sips. Sorry it’s not cold, but it should still help.”

You did as he said and then started to fidget with the water bottle. It was better than picking more at your fingers.

“So how long have you had dermatillomania?” Malcolm asked cautiously, scared that talking about it might make it worse.

“A majority of my life.” You sighed out.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Malcolm was watching you closely, looking for any signs that your anxiety would flare up again. You figured that he was curious and deserved to know how you came to the conclusion at the scene.

“When I was in college, I started seeing a therapist. We thought I had atelophobia. But after a few sessions, we realized that it was a mix of GAD, depression, and ADHD. The dermatillomania is the way most of that energy comes out. It’s mostly in high anxiety situations or when my ADHD is really bad. You have your tremors, I have” you looked down at your hands and realized you had begun picking again and that your finger was now bleeding a little bit. Raising your hands up, you sighed in annoyance, “this bullshit.”

You plopped your hands down in your lap and looked up at the sky, closing your eyes and taking another few frustrated deep breaths.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Without opening your eyes or moving away, you responded. “Well, I figured if anyone on this team was going to understand and respect it, it would be you.” You both half chuckled before you returned your gaze to him. “Thank you for listening and for having my back up there.”

Malcolm waved his hand to dismiss the second part of your thanks and then remembered something. You looked as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a bandaid he had snagged from one of the med kits at the scene. He held out his hand as if to ask for yours. You gently gave it to him and he proceeded to bandage up the fingertip that you had been picking at. Once he finishes, making sure it's not too tight or uncomfortable, he holds your hand for a little bit longer as he speaks his mind.

“I know how bad this job can get for people like us that have mental battles going on. And now that I know at least a little bit of what’s going on, I want you to know that you can come to me for help if you need it. If something in a case isn’t sitting right with you, or you need to go and grab a coffee for a distraction, or even just someone to find a bandaid for you, I’d be happy to lend a helping hand.” He ended with a true and contagious sympathetic smile that you don’t see very often on the face of Malcolm Bright.

“I really appreciate that. I will probably take you up on it.” He nods in contentment. “This offer does go both ways though, Bright.” He looked at you with a slightly tilted head. “I know you have a lot going on in that mind of yours that I may not fully understand, but if there is ever anything I can do to try and make it a bit more pleasant, let me know.”

“Sounds like a deal, (Y/N).” He gives your hand a squeeze before letting go. The two of you sit there in silence, focusing on your breathing together for the next five or so minutes. Without warning, Malcolm stands up and extends his hands out to you with a smile. You give him a questioning look.

“I could actually really go for some good distracting coffee right now, and I would like you to come with me and be equally distracting. If you want.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. There was something about this strange man that made you feel comfortable. And after dealing with your anxiety more than you had hoped for, you find yourself reaching for his hand.

“That sounds like a fantastic idea.”

#prodigal son fandom #prodigal son fanfic #Malcolm Bright x Reader #Malcolm Bright Fic #Malcolm Bright imagine #Malcolm whitly x reader #malcolm whitly fic

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tres-spades-hotel · 4 years

Text

The Adventures of Avaline

Chapter 1 – A Star Crossed Myth

I remember the last moments of my life. I was walking the streets of Tokyo, a city that I had recently called home. For 2 years, the hustle and bustle of life in the city was no different to my home in England. Anywhere and everywhere was something new and something big. All the time. You could never really get a break in a world expecting you to be obedient and loud.

Introverted as I was, I never found a place I could call home. A real home. I was too shy, too quiet, too little, too… me. My name was Olivia, it means an olive tree oddly enough. A caring, mature woman who didn’t take risks because she didn’t want to get hurt. I had many chances to do something meaningful with my life, to help the world be a better place, to help people, to help humans, and I blew it. Literally.

That day, I was walking without knowing that my life would end. Two cars were out of control. Drunk drivers I guess… or maybe it was all preordained. Two red cars were speeding from opposite directions. One of them was in the wrong lane, that’s how they both crashed.

She was a small girl though. Couldn’t have been more than 5 years old. I have never done anything in my life that meant I would be remembered but I suppose in my last few minutes, I really did do something good.

Crossing the street, she followed her mother slowly who was too engrossed in her phone conversation and the baby sibling in the buggy. That girl was in danger and I acted. I don’t know what came over me but the next thing I knew, I had dropped my bag and ran for her. I screamed something and the girl turned around at the maniac scrambling towards her. I twisted my ankle because of my heels but I was able to push her backwards just in time.

Her eyes held fear and confusion. But she was also curious. I may never see those eyes again. The cars crashed, destroying the bonnets and my skull was smashed to smithereens.

What could I do but think that she will live on, remembering what it is that I had died for. Her survival in a cut-throat world where cars are the animals and money is the meat that you fight for. It will be a very long time before I see that society again.

…

……..

…………………

What?

Where am I?

A blinding light cuts through the darkness like a knife slicing through butter. My eyelids flutter open. A beautiful golden palace stands before me with pillars and statues and a large staircase up to the entrance. But why does it look so familiar?

A thin river slithers across the ground in front of the building. Gorgeous flowers and grass and insects live freely in the warm sun. It’s not too hot and it’s not too cold, it is just the right temperature to stand and soak in the sunlight. I would love to live here if I could.

Wait.

Wait, hold on a second!

Isn’t that…?

This palace couldn’t be the one from Star Crossed Myth… could it? It looks just like the CG whenever the MC or the gods came to the….

Am I in the Heavens?

But that’s impossible! For one, I died. I remember that clearly. And two, SCM is just a visual novel. A game to read and make choices and fall in love with the characters. It’s a fantasy story which doesn’t exist.

Does it?

I try to take a step forward, but my foot accidently pulls the hem of a material. Looking down, I see a golden cream dress with a lace bodice and three-quarter sleeves. My hands wear golden accessories. My fingers feel my ears which are adorned with large earrings and they make their way to my silky soft black hair tied back in a braided crown. Even my skin feels flawlessly smooth.

My body seems to have changed too. I’ve become thinner and more curvy, although my chest is still as large as ever. But my back and shoulders aren’t aching because of the weight. My bum’s a little bit rounder and my legs are close to being twigs. That’s probably why I feel taller. On my feet are high heels but I stand perfectly on the dirt.

What the heck is going on? Who am I? Am I still me? Was I… reborn?

Well, if I remember correctly, the MC was reborn too but that was only because Huedhaut was the one who sacrificed the stars in his eyes to recycle her soul. And she was a goddess to begin with. But there’s no way that happened to me. I don’t know any gods. I’m not a goddess.

Looking at the palace, it no longer seems beautiful but a mysterious building with answers to questions I have yet to discover. I take a deep breath and head towards the Palace of the Heavens.

Inside, the hallways are exactly as they are in SCM. Everything is connected with doors and corners. The windows are really amazing, just about bringing together the ceiling and the floor. The hallways are also very, very, very wide. So many people… oh I mean gods…. in one hallway at once.

As I walk through the Palace, I start to hear murmurs and whispers of the gods who pass me.

‘Who is that?’

‘I don’t know but she is beautiful.’

Some goddess’ pass by and I hear more whispers.

‘I thought it was Lord Leon but it’s a goddess.’

‘She does seem very powerful, who is she?’ Shamelessly gossiping about a woman they’ve never seen before is rude, no? And did they say Lord Leon? And did they just call me powerful? There’s no way that’s true though. I still don’t know what I look like yet, so I have no idea if I look even remotely ‘beautiful’.

Ignoring them, I notice that many of them wear uniforms, most of which are Wishes and Punishments but there are some that I do not recognise. Some which have never been mentioned in the stories of Star Crossed Myth.

I wonder how many of the twelve zodiac gods are here in the palace at the moment. Has The Dark King waged his war on the Heavens? Did Leon become King? Has the MC been reborn? Is Clotho, the Goddess of Fate, even alive right now? So many questions and the only being in this world who I can ask is the King of the Heavens. I really hope he exists here.

Upon turning a corner, however, I stop when I hear a voice.

‘Lord Leon, are you going somewhere? May I accompany you?’

‘Sorry, I’d like to be alone.’

I slowly peek around the corner and see the one and only Wild Lion of the Heavens strolling through a jungle of babbling gods. My breath hitches in my throat as I contain my cough. Leon, the God of Leo, stops for no one at all, only passing by and rejecting the advances of the goddess’ around him. That’s right, in Leon’s Musings on Love, he showed the MC his past. A very lonely past. Gods and goddess’ spoke freely about Leon as if he were an object, like he was invisible to them. But because he doesn’t say anything, they continue to do so and fill the hallways with gossip and rumour. The MC felt bad for him and I do too. He’s loved and hated by all, feared and respected by all, but who knows his heart? Who knows his mind? Who knows his fears? His thoughts?

As he comes around the corner, I hide behind a god in front of me. Somehow, Leon passes by without taking notice of me. Maybe he’s too immersed in his thoughts to see me.

But…

Even though his back and shoulders seem so strong, they also look so alone to me. I can’t help myself. I’m going to follow him. I know where he’s going anyway.

The church. The door is left slightly ajar, so I press my ear against it.

‘… A divine minister, huh? Me… as powerful as the king…?’ His whispers are carried to me by a silent messenger of the air. To have so much responsibility and expectations put on him, Leon had no one to confine in.

I try to sneak in undetected, but it doesn’t work. The door sends a creek into the hollow church which echoes far more dramatically than it should. Sitting on a bench at the front, the auburn hair whips around at the sudden sound. I tumble out and awkwardly stand as Leon rises, the confusion evident on his face. He seems pretty young, so he looks a lot cuter and more adorable. I smile naturally at the thought but that makes Leon glare at me.

‘What are you doing here?’ His words sting as they bounce towards me and I flinch. His voice is deep and strong and straight to the point. No beating around the bush.

Oh.

Maybe he thinks I follo- wait I did follow him. What am I saying? I did follow him but not for what he is thinking. Maybe he thinks I am going to come onto him or something. I walk a little closer so that we can see each other clearer. His uniform is just like his sprite in the title and his facial features are perfect. But when I look into his eyes, I’m awe-struck. The stars in his eyes are beautiful. They’re in the shape of the Leo star sign. The stars shine bright in his copper eyes and now it’s hard to look away. I’ve always found it difficult to keep eye contact with anyone but with him, it feels so natural.

His eyes suddenly widen. He looks surprised and more confused somehow. I wonder what he is thinking. What should I say though? He wasn’t expecting anyone, and this never happened in the story so what do I do?! Should I introduce myself? Tell him I was mistaken and that I’ll leave?

The longer the silence surrounds us, the more nervous I feel. He’s not saying anything, and I never answered his question. What am I doing here?

Actually.

I have an idea.

My heels click-clack quickly on the marbled floor of the church. Before I know it, I’ve crossed the distance between us. My arms encircle his torso and I hug him for dear life. His body tenses under my touch and I can tell his arms are hovering in the air. Leon’s body feels muscular underneath the clothes he wears, and his warmth encapsulates me completely. My head rests perfectly over his chest. The sound of his heartbeat thunders in my ears as I take in the sweet scent of flowers radiating from him. I hug him a little bit tighter as I try to take all the warmth that I can. I’ve never been so intimate with a man, let alone a god, before so this affection that I give Leon is surprising to me too.

I loosen my death grip ever so slightly and look up at him. He looks down with his eyes narrowed.

‘You know, it’s said that if you hug someone for 30 seconds, they begin to feel better.’ Leon’s confusion grows but I think he knows what I mean.

‘That’s ridiculous, how can a simple hug make someone feel better?’ His words seem harsh, but I feel his arms embrace me. I smile into his chest, happy to know that he’s not completely heartless.

‘I don’t really know how to explain it in a way that you will understand but you seemed… sad, for lack of a better word, so I wanted to help.’ I hug him again tighter than before. His body relaxes a bit after my semi-explanation.

I hear him mumble something, but I don’t catch it in time.

Thirty seconds seems far too short. I should have said thirty minutes! Reluctantly, I let go of Leon fully and put a few feet of distance between us. The cool air in the church fill in the gaps and I feel cold without him.

‘If you ever feel lonely or need a hug to feel better, then I am here for you. You don’t have to bear everything on your own, Leon.’ I accidently say his name more casually than I should in this world so I give a quick smile and a wave and dash out as quickly as I can.

I hope he believes me.

I need to see the King right away. Now that I know what part of the SCM timeline I am in, I now know that Zyglavis must also be here in the Palace. Although, if I come across him I might clam up. What should I say? I don’t know who I am, what I am, why I am here. If I’m a goddess, what am I the goddess of? What’s my special ability? How do I-

‘Ah!’ I bump into a god who is almost double my height and I immediately recognise who he is. Zyglavis stands tall, very tall in fact, in front of me and the nerves take over.

‘Please watch where you are going, the hallways can be very busy at this time.’ His stern attitude makes me stand up a little straighter. I almost salute to him military style.

‘Um, I’m sorry. I am looking for the throne room.’ He raises his eyebrows.

‘Oh, and for what purpose?’ Wait, what should I say now?

‘I, uh, I have… an urgent matter to speak with the King.’ I say but he doesn’t seem convinced.

‘What kind of urgent matter?’

‘I-It’s for the King’s ears only…’ I reply and he narrows his eyes at me. He is truly terrifying when being questioned.

‘Very well, I will take you to His Highness. Follow me.’ Zyglavis turns quickly and I scramble to obey. Even rushing behind him, I feel his powerful aura.

Hard to believe that right now, he’s the Vice Minister of Punishments. And he’s right, everybody seems pretty busy. I wonder if it’s a holiday or something on Earth, maybe that’s why they’re rushing around.

‘Um…’ I start to say but then it hits me that I don’t have a name to give. I can’t give my human name in case I already have one.

‘What?’

‘Oh, um, what is your name?’ I hurry to walk beside him, and I hear him sigh.

‘My name is Zyglavis, the God of Libra and the Vice Minister of the Department of Punishments.’

‘That… sounds like a big responsibility.’

‘It is, but I am glad to have it if it means protecting the humans on Earth.’

‘You must really love the humans. I’m sure they’re very lucky to have you as their protector.’ I compliment him but I do mean it. Once he’s promoted, he’ll do a lot more good things.

He doesn’t say anything, so I look up, but he is already looking at me. I notice the stars in his eyes look just like the Libra star sign. They look equally as beautiful as Leon’s.

‘Are you new here?’ He asks.

‘Well, yes. I need to speak to the King… about which Department I’ll be joining…’ I say hesitantly.

‘Then why didn’t you say that before?’

‘Well, I’m still struggling to believe that I’m here, you know?’

‘I understand. The Palace can be a busy place, so I suggest you take care not to become entangled in gossip. Make sure to work hard at your best.’

‘I will… Lord Zyglavis.’ I smile up and he continues walking.

Eventually, we reach a hallway that’s different to the others in the Palace. There are large pillars and images are etched into the surfaces.

‘What are these images? Are they of the past?’ I ask, pointing to one of a man holding up the sun.

‘In a way, yes. Now come, the King must be waiting for you.’

‘Ah, okay!’ I hurry to follow but make a mental note to come back and study the pictures some more.

The double doors open to the throne room. A long red carpet leads all the way to the throne where the King of the Heavens sits. I stop myself from smiling out of nervousness.

‘Your Highness, this young goddess is here to work under your guidance.’ Zyglavis says, bowing. I quickly follow his lead and hear a voice reverberate in the quiet room.

‘Thank you Zyglavis for bringing her to me. You may leave.’

‘I understand.’ He bows again, looks at me and leaves. I smile again at him before turning to the King. He is as beautiful in person as he is in the stories. His overwhelming power fills the throne room even though he is only sitting in his throne lazily.

‘Um, your Highness…’ I begin but he holds up his hand to stop me.

‘Do not worry, I know of your situation, Olivia.’ OMG.

‘Seriously?! You know that I-‘

‘Come with me, we must speak privately.’ The King snaps his fingers, and a flash of light blinds me. The next thing I know, I’m in the King’s private chambers.

‘Oh wow!’ A large bed looks as if its suspended in animation. Stars cover my entire vision as if I’m in space. There is no floor, but I am definitely standing on something.

‘Sit down, please.’

‘Oh, okay.’ I sit down beside the King, positioning myself so that I am facing him. His power is immense. I feel even more anxious just being beside him. The King smiles at me.

‘There is no need to be nervous. I know that you have been through a lot. Can you tell me how you died?’

‘Well, it will be hard to explain since I believe the Earth here is not caught up in certain technology yet…’

‘That is fine, tell me how you remember it.’

I recount my last memories and tell the King how I died, while attempting to describe the car accident and leaving out any modern concepts.

‘The cars must have crushed my skull upon impact and killed me. I hope that the girl is safe though. That I didn’t die for nothing.’

‘She has told me that the girl lived. You have nothing to fear.’

‘She?’ I ask.

‘I assume you know much about our world.’

‘That’s one way to put it I guess. I know that there are Departments here and that you are the King of the Heavens who is the most powerful and omnipresent being in the universe and-‘ His chuckle stops me from continuing.

‘It is true that I am the most powerful god to the knowledge of those living here in the Heavens. However,’ he looks away.

‘There is someone far more magnificent than me.’

‘Seriously? You mean that there is actually somebody out there who is even more powerful than you?’

‘Yes, but she will reveal herself to you when the time is right.’

‘What!? Why all the build-up if you weren’t going to tell me?’ I huff. He laughs at my childishness.

‘You will understand in time. She brought you here for a special reason. But for now, reacquaint yourself with the act of living. You have been reborn as a goddess after all.’

‘Really? How is that possible though?’

‘To put it simply, you have been reborn into a different dimension. This world that you see before does not exist in your world.’ Wow, so I’m not even in the same dimension as the Earth that I know.

‘Do you know what my name is? What powers I have?’ I ask eagerly.

‘Your name is Avaline, the Goddess of Destiny.’

‘Avaline. Of destiny?’ I repeat back.

‘You have the ability to know the destiny of any god or human. And the ability allows you to change it to whatever you wish.’

‘That sounds… like a big responsibility though.’

‘She assures me that you are worthy of such a power. But there is another.’

‘I have two abilities?!’ He nods.

‘Avaline, you have the ability to copy the abilities of others.’

‘… Um, what?’

‘I will give an example: Zyglavis has the ability to manipulate shadows, detach his own shadow and see through his shadow. Simply seeing the ability and knowing how it works will allow you to copy it. However, the ability will not be the exact identical as it is when Zyglavis uses it.’ I nod then shake my head.

‘I’m lost.’

‘You have unlimited use of your ability to use others, but the ability will change to suit you.’

‘That’s insane. Are you sure I really have this power?’ He chuckles at me and nods, but then he frowns.

‘There is something else. This ability of use comes at a cost.’

‘Of course it does.’ I sigh.

‘Do you know of the reflecting pools?’

‘Yes, they’re fountains filled with pure water which show reflections of Earth. Like a mirror.’

‘Exactly so. The pure water in the reflecting pools cannot be consumed because of their purity. However, you will need to.’

‘Really? Why?’

‘The more abilities you acquire, the more the power inside of you becomes imbalanced. Drinking the water of the reflecting pools will correct the balance.’

‘An unlimited quantity of power only to become disastrous to the one who uses them.’ I conclude.

‘Do not be mistaken. You can use the abilities whenever you wish. Gods do not get sick like humans but if you fail to drink the water daily then your life will be in danger.’

‘That’s not at all daunting.’

‘It is a power that has been chosen for you, Avaline.’

‘Avaline, huh. For some reason, it feels weird hearing you say this name.’

‘You will get used it in time. Now for your position here at the Palace.’ I sit up straighter.

‘You will work in the Department of Souls.’ I slump down in confusion.

‘Souls?’

‘Your Department Minister is Evelyn, and she will show you what to do. For now, a room has been created for you, go and rest.’

‘Okay, thank you, Your Highness.’ I stand up and bow in gratitude. I turn to leave and turn around again to him.

‘I have a question. How much of the future do you know?’

He only gives me a knowing smile.

‘I know that you will do great things for us here in the Heavens. Remember: you have been given tremendous powers, use them wisely.’ He leaves me with a smile. Suddenly, a blinding light transports me back to the throne room.

#star crossed myth #god of leo #scm leon #self insert #scm #scm the king #the adventures of avaline

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