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spearsillustration · 2 months ago

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°[Younger Cecil Stedman X Secret Wife/Hero Reader]°

Summary - This takes place immediately after Cecil gets hurt, following all the intense surgery and necessary medical procedures to patch him up. The wounds are still fresh, and the lingering ache from the ordeal is a constant reminder of how close things came to going horribly wrong.

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Notes - Okay since this is my first time writing for him it might be ooc, but I’m trying my best. Though after reading all the other fanfics about him (which isn’t enough) I think I did enough research. Plus rewating every scene he’s in I think I’m ready. Alright, enough ranting I hope you enjoy.

P.S. I rushed to finish this after work so there might be some small mistakes here and there. I'll edit it in due time.

Word count: 2,510

Page number: 7

It had been two weeks since I’d heard anything from Cecil. I called and texted him till my fingers went numb. We might go weeks without seeing each other due to work but he’d always try to call or message me so we knew the other was alright. Last I knew he went on a solo mission when they got a tip, but I was sure he would be fine. If it was something life-threatening they would have sent me in to assist as his partner.

After I hadn’t heard back from him I knew something was wrong. I had to keep our marriage a secret for both our safety, but It was hard to keep a level head not knowing if my husband was okay. I made calls asking about his whereabouts in a way that didn’t scream desperately worried.

It was another week before I got any information and…It wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I was told the entire mission was confidential information. But was told that Celil got hurt pretty badly. They reassured me of his excellent care, and their voices receded to a faint hum in the back of my mind, the shock numbing my senses. He had been in the medical facility for the past two weeks and I hadn’t been told a single thing. I had to control myself as my blood felt like it was boiling. But the anger quickly passed and despair followed. I thanked them for finally getting back with me.

I asked if I could see him. I joked that I needed to make sure my favorite partner wasn’t dead yet. I worked with most of the higher ranked agents but I worked with him the most. Noone needed to know the real reason, to any if them we just worked well together. It was hard to put on the fake smile and laughter that followed.

They weren't sure if he was ready for visitors. I have to ask someone higher up to get anything done around here. I rubbed my temple in frustration and with a deep sigh thanked them before hanging up the phone.

I had to make an appointment with the medical facility desk the following day and fill out paperwork explaining why I was visiting and so forth. The process was excruciating as it was time-consuming. Guess being a hero who works for the GDA doesn’t get you ahead of anyone else around here. I rushed through everything making my handwriting sloppy as all hell but I got it finished and quickly gave it back so I could see him as soon as possible.

“In a hurry (Y/N).” The person working at the desk joked with a smile.

“Y-Yeah plenty of work to get done, people to save all that,” I responded as normal as possible.

“I understand that. I’ll get these sorted out as quickly as I can for you. But for now, I’ll need you to wait over there for me.” She said gesturing to the seats where I just was.

I held back an annoyed sigh as I thanked her. I returned to my seat in the corner. Every minute dragged on making me worry even more. After a while, I pulled out my phone looking for a distraction so my mind didn’t wander too much. But that made it worse when I ended up opening my gallery and looking at the few pictures I had of Cecil and me. I had some cute selfies of us together, a picture I took when he fell asleep at his desk that he thinks I deleted, date photos, and things he sent me from work.

“(Y/N),” She called from the desk.

My head quickly shot up as I heard my name.

“You can see him now. The doctor says he’s well enough for visitors”

“Thank you,” I quickly responded and I calmly walked to his room, well until I was out of sight then I practically ran.

Once I got to his room I froze unable to move for a moment. It took me a good minute before I brought my hand up to knock on the door. I heard a strained voice.

“Come in,” Cecil said voice sounding deeper than the last time I heard him.

I slowly opened the door expecting the worst.

When I opened his door his face was inflamed and raw from previous reconstructive surgery, marred by a prominent scar that ran across half of his face. Despite the shock and pain, a surge of relief washed over me—Cecil was alive, albeit heavily sedated.

"Cecil..." I mumbled as my eyes watered in relief.

A hoarse, gravelly whisper escaped his lips, his voice cracked and rough. "(Y/N)...?"

I slowly walked over the the hospital bed he was lying in and sat down on the chain that was beside his bed. I gripped his hand with both of mine lovingly as if I was gonna lose him now.

“Yes, I'm here,” I said with a smile as tears fell down my face.

His fingers trembled ever so slightly, but he managed to squeeze my hand. "Don't...cry." he rasped, his expression tightening with effort. "Look...at me."

I looked into his eyes weakly unable to stop the tears from streaming down my face.

His gaze softened as he noticed my tears, a pang of anguish flashed across his eyes. He slowly raised his hand, movement restricted by lingering pain. He gently swiped his thumb against my cheek, attempting to comfort me.

"I'm okay," he whispered, his voice hoarse and laced with weakness. "I'm... here, (Y/N)."

I leaned into his touch and caressed his hand. “I-I could have lost you. I don’t even know what happened to you for two weeks I’ve been driving myself insane not even knowing if you were alive.” I said between weak whimpers almost unable to stop myself from sobbing.

The sound of my voice, trembling and filled with sobs, pierced him deeply. He squeezed my hand again, a silent act of reassurance. Even in his pain-muddled state, he loathed seeing me this distraught.

His gaze bore into me, unflinching and intense. "You...didn't lose me." His voice, though rough, held a steely resolve. "I'm here...I'm not going anywhere."

“I should have been there. You might not be stuck in this damn hospital bed if I went with you.” I said sorrowfully, deeply regretting my absence. “It's never safe to go on missions alone, why were you alone?” I wined out painfully.

His grip tightened on my hand, a mix of annoyance and concern crossing his expression. "Stop." His voice held a touch of firmness. "Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault."

He sighed, looking away momentarily, his gaze fixated on the sterile, blank hospital wall. "I...went...alone because...it was supposed to be...low risk. The intelligence was wrong."

I looked away in shame. “I still wish I was there for you.”

"Stop," he repeated, his voice stern but not without a note of vulnerability. "You...can't always be there."

He shifted his gaze back to me. "I don't want you...risking your life...just for me. I need you...safe."

“I know, but I was so scared. They didn’t even tell me you were hurt till the other day. I was worried to death.”

He winced at my words, his expression etched with pain both physical and emotional. The intensity in his eyes softened as he realized the depth of my concern.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I...didn't consider...how scared you would be...waiting for me."

“Of course, I was worried. I’m not just your partner Cecil, I'm your wife. It's my job to worry about you. On and off work.”

The corner of his lip lifted in a small, tired smirk.

"Worrying isn’t on the list of your marital duties," he retorted weakly, trying to infuse a hint of humor into the situation.

“Well with you it's at the top of the list.”

His smirk broadened ever so slightly, his eyes softening with affection.

"You're hardly the stereotypical doting housewife," he pointed out.

“Well, a stereotypical wife couldn't handle you.”

A chuckle, low and rumbling, escaped him, though it was followed by a wince of pain. "Ain't that...the truth," he agreed, his eyes gleaming with affection.

Seeing him wince in pain made my smile fall. “How are you feeling... really?”

His expression sobered, the amusement in his eyes fading as he sighed heavily. "Like... I got hit by a goddamn truck," he admitted. "Whole body feels like it's on fire. And my head hurts like a sonofabitch."

“Even with all the painkillers they most likely got you on?”

He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Painkillers...take the edge off," he muttered, his gaze distant. "But they don't...fix everything." He shifted uncomfortably, wincing again as the movement aggravated his already sore body.

I scooted the chair I was sitting in even closer to his bed. I’d be in the hospital bed with him if I didn’t have any self-control.

“Are you gonna tell me what happened or is it to confidential?” I asked turning to look him in the eyes.

“Look you know I can’t tell you, and…you don’t want to know.” He answered the way I expected him too.

“Then it’s probably for the best then,” I responded meekly but pushed past that feeling. “How much longer till you can leave the medical facility and I can get you some real food?”

“Probably another week before they finally let me go.” He sighed in annoyance.

“Well guess I’ll have to come visit you every day till they finally release you.” I teased knowing he hated sitting around doing nothing in a bed all day.

His gaze fixed on me, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I know you will," he murmured, his voice gruff but lacking any hint of annoyance. "Can't get rid of... you that easy."

“Oh, so you thought getting hurt and almost dying would get rid of me. That some facial scar would bother me. Hell, you married me, and it's gonna take far more than that to run me off. Till death do us part is literal with me sweetheart.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile as I continued. “You’re too stubborn.”

“Well, I have to be when It comes to you or you’d never listen,” I said with a smile before gently kissing the new scar on his face.

He flinched at the touch of my lips against his sensitive scar, though his expression softened as he felt the love in that tender gesture making his cheeks turn a light shade of pink that was almost too light to notice.

"Careful," he murmured gently "It's still a bit tender."

I bit my lip playfully with a wink, “It's kind of attractive.”

He let out a huff of amusement, his smirk returning. "You always did...have peculiar tastes," he said, a slight edge of teasing in his voice.

“Well, I married you if that tells you anything.”

"You must've...lost your damn mind,"

“Maybe a little,” I responded before hearing a knock at the door. I quickly shot up and made myself presentable since our marriage was a secret to almost everyone else.

His attention shifted to the knock on the door, his expression slightly alarmed. Despite his injured state, there was a guarded wariness in his gaze. He discreetly gestured for me to step back, not wanting outsiders to witness the intimacy of your relationship.

I moved the chair back and stood up to answer the door. A GDA nurse entered, her expression professional and her voice courteous.

"Good evening, ma'am. I just need to check on Mr. Stedman's vitals." She briskly moved to the side of his bed, affixing the blood pressure cuff to his arm without sparing either of us a second glance.

"Of course." I stepped back so I wasn't in her way and continued speaking to Cecil but only about the stuff he missed at work while he was gone so we wouldn't give away our relationship.

He nodded, shifting slightly to allow the nurse access to his arm. As the nurse proceeded to take his vitals, he engaged in the conversation with you, keeping up the pretense of a casual work update. His gaze flickered between you and the nurse, aware of the need to maintain discretion.

Once the nurse was finished and left us alone I let out a sigh. As the nurse departed, closing the door behind her, the room fell silent once again. He relaxed slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing now that she was gone.

"Close call," he murmured, his gaze flickering from the door to me.

"It not like we were making passionate love to each other." I teased.

"That's not the point," he retorted gruffly, trying to maintain a stern demeanor. "We're trying to keep things... under wraps."

"Trust me I know more than anyone," I responded before my watch started beeping alerting me of trouble. I sighed in annoyance and looked up at Cecil painfully.

He noticed the beeping of your watch and the expression of annoyance on your face. A frown creased his brow as he recognized the sound.

"Duty calls?" he murmured, his voice tinged with resignation.

"At the worst times, as usual, People always need saving at the most inconvenient times I swear," I mumbled. "But I'll be back as soon as I can. And don't almost die on me again while I'm gone please."

His expression softened, his gaze fixed on you intently. "No promises," he said with a hint of a smirk, though his words held a note of sincere concern. "Be careful out there."

“Always am. But let's not forget something.” I quickly remarked before walking back over and leaning in for a loving goodbye kiss.

He leaned into the kiss, his hand gently cupping my chin. When I pulled back, a ghost of a smile played on his lips.

"Don't do anything reckless," he murmured, his gaze locking with mine.

#@ay0nha #x reader #hero reader #so #wife reader #oneshot #cecil stedman x reader #cecil stedman #invincible #younger cecil stedman #cecil #secret relationships #fanfiction #angst #angst with a happy ending #duty calls

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im-just-daria · 5 months ago

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In The Dark Part 2

The Jackal x Reader

Fandom: The Day of The Jackal

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: You finally make it to Munich.

Warnings: Mentions of murder and dead bodies, threats, stalking, just the usual assassin stuff.

A/N: I know it took me some time. Enjoy the second part :) Feedback is most appreciated, as well as any mistakes you see <3

Tag: @spiderstyles04 tagged as requested <3

Your eyes shot open as the alarm on your nightstand rang loudly. With a heavy sigh, you tapped your phone to stop the ringing and rubbed your eyes as you stretched under the covers of your warm bedsheets. It took you five seconds to remember why on earth you set that alarm in the first place. Today is the first day of juggling full-time pub work and helping a criminal impersonate some German janitor to do whatever he needed. You certainly didn't want to know more than is necessary for two simple reasons- in case you ever get taken by police, the less you know, the better, and because you weren't sure how well you would cope with the fact that you possibly helped someone in murder.

Your feet touched the cold floor, and you walked to a chair by your desk with more clothes on it than in your wardrobe. You put on a sweater from the pile of clothes and walked to the bathroom. As you were sitting on the toilet, your mind started to replay last night's events. You were surprised at how calm you were; it was actually concerning. 'Wow, my moral compass is so off', you thought as you wiped yourself and stood up. While washing your hands, you suddenly remembered something from yesterday that had escaped your memory. You opened the drawer under the sink and saw the nail scissors still missing; the corners of your mouth moved slightly upwards. You made your way to the kitchen and found the piece of paper with the phone number the man gave you yesterday. You debated whether to text him or not ' I mean, the guy has a gun and knows all your personal details, but at the same time, I do have some questions.'

You bit your bottom lid as you finally decided to pick up your phone. You typed in the number and texted;

"Do I keep the receipts?" you asked, putting down your phone as you wanted to start your breakfast. You hadn't expected him to reply within five seconds. 'Does he not have a life?' you thought with a frown.

''Yes''

''Do I use only cash, or can I use my card?''

''Cash''

''Do you have any allergies? The prosthetic glue sometimes causes a rash:/''

'Fuck', You scolded yourself. You were one of these people who use emojis religiously, so your muscle memory just put it in the message. 'Fucking hell (Y/N), it is a random man who hired you to help him commit international crimes, and you threw in a frowning emoji'.

''No allergies, cash only, go to only bigger stores where it's relatively anonymous, try to blend in, lie if someone asks what it's for. Anything else?'

You felt the passive aggressiveness radiating from the message, but you just couldn't help yourself. There was something so satisfying about annoying this man.

''You didn't give me back my nail scissors.''

He didn't reply immediately, like with the rest of the messages, and honestly, you thought he would just ignore you. You put down your phone and turned on the kettle on your kitchen counter. You heard the notification sound of your phone. You almost sprinted to the phone.

''I will add 5 £ to the overall payment'' You smiled. 'Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it' You lost the battle with your self-restraint.

''But the good ones cost 10 £.''

''You remember I have a gun, right? Do not text or call this number unless it is important, or you will make it from Germany in a body bag. Now delete all the texts.''

'Fine', you thought to yourself as you put down your phone and got ready for your day.

Your shoulder started to hurt from all the supplies in your bag. 'Now I understand the need for backpacks'. Since you haven't seen his face, you weren't really sure what colours of foundations and powders to buy, so you got a few just in case. After all, your life pretty much depends on how well you execute this. As you passed through Vauxhall to get to Waterloo, you glanced at MI6 headquarters and wondered how much they didn't know. I mean, here you are on the pavement across the river carrying supplies necessary for international crime. 'Is it really that easy?' you thought to yourself.

The rest of the week passed by really quickly. If you weren't working, you were working on the prosthetic; if you weren't working on the prosthetic, you were trying to sleep, eat, get groceries or clean the house. Your back was killing you from being constantly hunched over your desk. 'I have absolutely no idea how single mothers exist.' you thought as you tried to stretch in your chair. The whole face prosthetic was done, as well as the wig; you were just finishing up the facial hair when you heard the knock on the door. You weren't expecting anyone, and you didn't order anything. A wave of uneasiness washed over you. You grabbed a scalpel from the desk you used to cut through fake skin and hid it behind your back. You approached the door and looked through the peephole. A delivery man was standing on the other side holding a bouquet of flowers. Now you were nervous; your love life was non-existent, so there wasn't a single person who could send you those. You opened a door hesitantly; you half expected the man to pull out a knife or barge in through the apartment. Instead, he just smiled and asked,'' Miss (Y/L/N)?''

You stuttered ''Y-yes''.

"These are for you." He handed you a bouquet of flowers and an envelope. At first, you simply stared at him, still expecting him to pull out a weapon, but he didn't. You extended your arm and slowly grabbed the flowers and the envelope. You felt sorry for the delivery man. He looked so confused. You looked like grabbing those flowers was a life sentence, and your heavy breathing certainly didn't help.

''Um, have a nice day,'' he said hesitantly and left.

''You too!'' You said a bit too loudly as he was almost out of your sight.

You closed the door and locked it. Making your way to the kitchen, you set the flowers on the counter and opened the envelope.

IN Saturday 19th of April 19.25 RyanAir Stansted-Munich.

OUT Sunday 20th of April 22.45 RyanAir Munich-Stansted.

Premier Inn Munchen Messe Hotel Munchener Str.

Use your card; put everything necessary in the check-in bag. When you get to the hotel, send a text message. You will receive further instructions once you arrive. Don't do anything stupid, or these will be your funeral flowers.

You pulled out your phone and booked all flights and the hotel as the note instructed. The hotel itself was on the outskirts of Munich. You knew you would have to call in sick tomorrow to make this flight. Once all the bookings were confirmed, you ripped the note and flushed it down the toilet. While making your way to the desk, your eyes fell on the flowers you left on the counter. Your lips twitched upwards as you approached them. They were really beautiful. You filled a vase with water and smelled the bouquet before putting it in the glass. You moved them to the living room so they could get some sunlight. You were determined to keep them alive as long as possible. You let out a laugh as you realised that the first flowers you have ever received from a man were from a criminal who attached a note with a death threat. You made your way to the bedroom and finished the prosthetic for tomorrow. As you were packing and preparing, a shadow of a smile still danced on your lips.

The flight was as stressful as you thought it would be. You were sure you looked suspicious because every few seconds, you looked around, scouting the airport for security and police. You tried telling yourself that you had absolutely nothing illegal in the suitcase, which was true after all. Make-up artists travel daily with tons of stuff like yours and don't get stopped by border control. You finally reached the hotel, paid the taxi driver, and entered the Premier Inn. You approached the lady at reception, who smiled at you.

''Hi, I have a booking for (Y/N) (Y/L/N), 1 night'' You tried to calm your nerves and keep a relatively neutral face as you handed her your passport.

"Of course," she replied and started clicking on her computer. "Right, here is your key and a letter from your fiance."

You grabbed both items as well as your passport, to be honest; after the flowers, you expected him to pull some shit like this. 'What a psychopath, he really is enjoying this, isn't he? At least now I know he won't break into my room at night.'

''Thank you,'' you replied to the receptionist and made your way to the room. You only wanted to shower and eat, but you knew the envelope was a priority.

You left your bag on the floor, took off your jacket and left it on a chair. Leaning against the desk, you opened the letter.

16.00 Ludwig-Thomas-StraSe 27: The doors downstairs and upstairs will be open. Do not knock; just come in. Wear something with a hood, and make sure your hair isn't visible. Take everything with you; you will go straight to the airport.

Walk, do not use public transport. And try not to look suspicious; you already did a shit job at that at the airport.

''What the actual fuck?'' you actually said it out loud. Was he actually following you at the airport? You shook your head and exhaled deeply. ''This is a fucking joke''. You let out a dry laugh and decided to have a shower and sleep. A realisation hit you as you stood in a bathroom, about to undress. What if he had cameras in your room? A part of you- the logical part- wouldn't be surprised if he had cameras here and in your apartment. But the other part -the weird, unhinged, delusional part- tells you he isn't that type of guy. ''Jesus Christ (Y/N), you don't know that man,'' you scolded yourself and got undressed. It was a very brief and quick shower. Once you got into bed, you closed your eyes and tried to go to sleep. Fifteen minutes into your failed attempts at falling asleep, a phone rang; you immediately recognised the number, and your heart stopped. You accepted the call and said shakingly. ''Y-Yes?''

"Didn't you forget something?" You almost forgot how he sounded. It's been over a week, after all. His voice was calm and smooth, with a British accent dominating his pronunciation. You mentally checked everything you brought with you, nothing coming to your mi- ''Fuck I am so sorry, I forgot to text you when I got here,'' You said quickly.

''I need to know you are making your locations on time; I won't always have a way to track your phone.''

'Oh my God, ' you thought. So, this isn't a one-time thing.

"Um, yeah, that's fair. I have a question, though, and it is rather important," you said, trying to sound confident but failing miserably.

''Make it quick; I don't have time.''

''That's what she said,'' you whispered timidly, immediately regretting the words as they left your mouth. 'That's it. He is gonna hang up now; great fucking job (Y/N).'

Instead, you heard a chuckle on the other end of the phone. You suddenly felt proud of yourself, and involuntarily, your mouth formed into a smile.

''What's the question (Y/N)'' He said in much lighter tone. You felt a bit more confident now, knowing that he actually found you funny.

''Do you have any cameras in my apartment or the hotel room?''

You could almost hear the confusion in his voice ''No.''

''Okay, that's good, yeah, okay,'' you exhaled, and a silence followed.

''Anything else?''

Once again, you lost the inner battle with your self-restraint and grinned as you tried to put in your most seductive voice.

"So," you said, taking a pause. "What are you wearing?" You honestly thought he had just hung up. After about ten seconds, as you were about to check the phone screen, he simply replied, "Good night (Y/N)."

Little did you know, a smile adorned his face as he hung up the phone. A smile that hasn't visited his face in years.

The next day, you checked out of the hotel at 11 in the morning and made your way to a cafe. You had 5 hours before you had to be at the location given to you. You tried to focus on a book you took with you, but after rereading the same page four times, you gave up. You ate your food and drank your coffee before going for a little walk. You really needed to calm down. Munich was much warmer than you thought, you decided to see the city centre rather than sit in one cafe for 5 hours. As it was getting closer to 4 pm, you started to make your way to the address. You followed Google Maps as you saw the right flat complex. The man didn't lie; the doors were open downstairs. You made your way up the stairs, looking for number 27. Your heart started racing as you stood in front of it. 'Just go in. You are wasting time.' You stood outside for the next two minutes before reaching the door handle. You opened the door and stepped into the hallway; you were immediately met with a familiar face you saw 10 days ago; however, this time... it wasn't in the dark.

You knew already he was tall; his face perfectly reflected his usual voice, emotionless, graceful, calculated and confident. Freckles were scattered across his clear skin, and his ginger hair was messy, but somehow, it fit him perfectly. His green eyes were focused on yours. He was leaning against a wall with his arms folded. You closed the door behind me, not sure what to say. He beat you to the greetings.

''Lingering outside someone's door for 3 minutes is rather suspicious, don't you think?'' His eyebrows raised as the sentence left his mouth.

You just stared at him, ''Yeah, um, yeah, it is, and you told me not to be suspicious.''

'Yes, I did'' He said seriously.

You tried your best to lighten the mood ''Soooo, do I get the house tour?''

''No, the bathroom is on the left. Go there and don't leave; set up everything you need.''

''What, is there like a body in here?'' You said jokingly and chuckled. You looked up at him to see his reaction. He just looked at you with a specific look that answered your question.

''Ohhh, okay''. You swallowed and made your way to the bathroom.

'Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic'.

The bathroom was small and didn't have much counter space. There was a chair and a stool. You opened your bag and set all prosthetics and the wig onto the sink counter; all make-up brushes, palettes, foundations, and powders were left on the chair. You turned around to grab a towel behind you when you were met with a familiar build. You gasped loudly, startled. How could he move so quietly?

"You can sit down if you want." He didn't reply; he simply took his place in a chair and looked at you expectingly.

It felt weird. Being cramped with a killer in a tiny bathroom, you wondered if the body lying somewhere in the house belonged to the man you would help him look like.

You began examining his face, your eyes tracing every curve of his face. His eyes never left yours; you guess he still doesn't trust you enough to be this close to you with his eyes closed.

"Your face has a rather unusual structure," your voice hitched as you realised how it sounded. "It's not an insult, just," you exhaled. ''Your eyes, sockets, and cheekbones are very hollow, but your lips are full. I will need to add some extra padding to make it look believable."Your hands were slightly shaking as you waited for his answer.

''Just do what you must. Be done by 8.30.''

You nodded.

His skin was unbelievably smooth, and his eyes still hadn't left yours, examining your every move. As you were working, you tried to explain everything you were doing. However, with the lack of his replies, you felt like you were just conversing with yourself instead.

After two hours of silence from his side, you opened your mouth but hesitated to say the sentence you wanted.

''Did you know that red hair and green eyes occur in only 0.14% of people on the planet?'' Once again, you expected silence, but he replied simply ''Yes''. Well, it's better than silence.

''How did you know?'' You asked, trying to hold the conversation.

''How did you?'' You sighed.

''I asked first.'' It was a childish answer, but a small smile played on your lips.

''My friend told me years ago,'' He said hesitantly.

''That's nice; I learned that in school during make-up classes in my first year,'' you replied calmly, suddenly feeling at ease.

''Did you like them?''

You were taken aback by his question. ''The classes?'' Still in disbelief, he showed interest.

He simply nodded.

''I did; I always found it relaxing; it's like painting or drawing for other people.''

You decided to take advantage of his sudden talkativeness.

''I probably need a name for you, a fake one. I really don't mind; I just can't refer to you in my mind as 'him'.

His lips twitched, and he said, '' And just how often do you refer to me in your mind?'' You stopped all your movement and averted your eyes from his wig hairline you were just fixing to look at into eyes.

You opened your mouth in shock and said lightly, chuckling, ''Did you just make a flirtatious joke?''

''Don't get used to it,'' He said as you added finishing touches to his appearance. His whole demeanour is changed. He seems more relaxed, and his eyes don't seem so controlling. He also didn't flinch every time you touched his face without warning.

''Let's go with Charles.''

You hummed ''Fine by me,''

''Right, all done.'' You said proudly as you stepped back, allowing him to stand up and examine your work in the mirror. You personally thought you had outdone yourself. Maybe the overhanging thought of death if you fuck up had something to do with it, or perhaps you are just that good.

''This is incredible,'' he said, not taking his eyes off his reflection.

Somehow, his praise meant more to you than any compliment you've ever heard from your teachers. 'Yeah, because whether you live or die depends on this,' you explained to yourself, not even allowing yourself to think of any other reason.

''You have a plane to catch; you should go,'' He said, finally averting his eyes from the mirror towards you.

''Yeah, you are right, I'm just gonna pack up. Um, here is a glue dissolver and a brush. Don't rip it, or your face will flare up; ginger people have a lower impact tolerance, so um yeah,'' You said, trying to hold eye contact, but halfway through the sentence, you lost confidence. You simply handed him the bottle and started packing your things. As you were about to grab the door handle, you turned towards him. He was leaning on the same spot on the wall as when you walked in, and you stood in the same place as before. Except this time, the man looked nothing like himself.

''I will transfer the money tomorrow,'' he said once again emotionless.

''Okay'' As you grabbed the handle, you smiled and turned back to him. ''I just want to let you know that I had so many urges to say ginger jokes today, but I didn't, and I think you should know that and appreciate it.''

He stood there like a statue, motionless. After a few seconds, he smiled and walked away.

''Just go home (Y/N).''

You high-fived yourself mentally. Annoying this man was fun, but seeing him smile is even better.

You left the apartment smiling, not worrying about looking suspicious.

#the day of the jackal fanfiction #the day of the jackal x reader #the jackal x reader #the day of the jackal

127 notes · View notes

samin2528 · 15 days ago

Text

Can I Install a Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kit Myself?

The Exhaust Gas Recirculation (EGR) system on Ford 6.0 diesel engines can be removed with a Ford 6.0 EGR delete kit. Removing the EGR can help prevent blockage or overheating problems, improve fuel efficiency, and improve engine performance. Truck owners who want their engines to run more smoothly and need fewer fixes are drawn to this package. Note: EGR deletes may not always be allowed for street driving; they are designed for off-road or racing use.

What Is a Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kit?

The Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kit is a collection of components made to disable or get around the car's exhaust gas recirculation (EGR) system. To cut emissions, the EGR system reuses exhaust gases back into the engine's intake. But over time, it can result in carbon buildup, which can cause engine problems, clogged intakes, and performance problems.

By keeping exhaust gases from reentering the engine, a Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kit solves this problem and improves:

Performance of the engine

Efficiency of fuel

Reliability

Benefits of Installing a Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kit

It reasons why many people with cars want to put in a Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kit:

Better Engine Performance: Cleaner air enters the engine thanks to the removal of exhaust gas recirculation.

Improved Fuel Economics: Better burning and efficiency are the results of fewer gases and soot.

Reduced Maintenance: Your engine's parts last longer when there is less carbon buildup.

Reduce Engine Temperature: By removing the EGR system, coolant levels may be reduced, which will enhance performance.

Can You Install a Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kit Yourself?

In short, yes, if you have the skills you need, assets, and patience. It is not an easy operation to install a Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kit. It involves working in confined locations and removing and changing engine parts. Here's something to think about:

Needed Skills:

Basic knowledge about mechanics

Knowledge for diesel engines

Ability to conform to given directions

Tools Required:

Standard and metric socket sets

The torque wrench

Pliers, screwdrivers

Catch pan with coolant.

Scrapers of seals

Safety gear (goggles, gloves)

Step-by-Step Guide to Installing a Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kit

1. Getting ready:

After parking on a level, allow the engine to cool.

Pull the battery.

Coolant is stored in the EGR cooler; thus, emptying it is important.

2. Get access to the EGR System:

Take off the turbo and intake tube.

Cut off the coolant feed to the EGR cooler.

Take out the cooler and EGR valve.

3. Install the EGR Delete Kit:

Fit the new block-off plates and pipe provided in the Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kit.

Reconnect coolant lines as directed (some kits include bypass hoses).

Install any new hardware, gaskets, and clamps.

4. Reassemble:

Reinstall the turbo and intake components.

Refill the coolant.

Reattach the battery.

5. Test the Vehicle:

Start the engine and check for leaks.

Monitor engine temperature and performance.

Challenges and Things to Watch Out For

While it’s possible to install a Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kit yourself, here are a few challenges:

Tight Engine Bay: Space is limited, making some bolts difficult to access.

Coolant Leaks: Improper sealing can lead to leaks.

Turbo Removal: Can be tricky without experience.

Legal Issues: In some states/countries, deleting the EGR system is not legal for street use.

Pros of DIY Installation

Cost Savings: Save on labor fees, which can be substantial.

Learning Experience: Gain hands-on knowledge about your vehicle.

Customization: Control over the installation process.

Cons of DIY Installation

Time-Consuming: Expect to spend 4–8 hours, depending on experience.

Risk of Mistakes: Incorrect installation can damage your engine.

Warranty Concerns: May void vehicle warranties.

Professional Installation: When to Consider It

If you're not confident in your mechanical skills or lack the necessary tools, it might be wise to hire a professional. An experienced mechanic who specializes in Ford 6.0 Powerstroke engines can efficiently and accurately install the Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kit, giving you peace of mind.

Legal Considerations

Before installing a Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kit, check your local laws. In the U.S., the EGR system is a mandated emissions control device, and tampering with it can:

Violate EPA regulations

Fail vehicle inspections

Result in fines

Use of a Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kit is often restricted to off-road or racing vehicles.

Maintenance After EGR Delete

After installing your Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kit, ongoing maintenance is crucial:

Regularly check coolant levels

Monitor engine temperatures

Stay alert for check engine lights

Keep up with oil changes

Deleting the EGR doesn’t eliminate the need for good maintenance habits—it just helps your engine stay cleaner and run better.

Top Brands for Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kits

Popular brands that offer reliable Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kits include:

Sinister Diesel

XDP

Rudy’s Diesel

Flo-Pro

Choosing a reputable brand ensures quality parts and detailed instructions.

Is It Worth Installing a Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kit?

For many truck owners, the answer is yes, especially if you use your vehicle for heavy-duty tasks like towing or off-roading. Benefits include improved engine longevity, better fuel economy, and reduced risk of costly repairs. However, balance the mechanical benefits with legal considerations and warranty impacts.

Conclusion: Can You Install a Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kit Yourself?

Yes, with the right tools, patience, and some mechanical experience, you can install a Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kit yourself. This DIY project offers both cost savings and performance gains, but comes with challenges that shouldn’t be underestimated.

Whether you decide to tackle it solo or seek professional help, installing a Ford 6.0 EGR Delete Kit can be a worthwhile investment in your truck’s health and performance—just be sure to stay informed about legal implications.

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hacked-by-jake · 4 years ago

Text

Was that Jake there 2

Part 1

Pairing: JakexMc

Words: 4,2k

A/N: So, a few days ago I got an absolutely sweet comment from @captainwanderlust78❤️

Really, you made my last week. And then unfortunately the news came from Everbyte that EP 7 will come later. And actually, there wasn’t a second part planned for this story, but since you wanted one so much, here we are. This is my second attempt, because I wrote a part that I didn’t like. I tried to keep the story a little more quiet this time. Anyway, I hope you like it and apologize for possible mistakes. Oh and Merry Christmas. 🌲❤️

"Ready little ones?" Dan asks you and pokes you with his elbow.

"Yes, I’m ready," you answer and look at the big clock in the motel lobby.

Point 12 at midday.

"I’ll be gone," you say goodbye to the others.

"Take care of yourself and call me if you need anything," Richy informs you.

"Yeah, or if he attacks you," hiss Dan.

"Dan" hisses Jessy and steps on his foot.

"Ouch" growls Dan and looks at her accusingly.

Jessy is just ignoring this and calls after you, "See you later".

Slowly but with firm steps you make your way to the elevator.

Immediately the doors open and you get in and press the button for floor three.

The place the place where you meet is going to be a motel room that can’t be used because of renovation.

This is the perfect place to meet Jake.

He will come over the fire escape behind the motel to the third floor and there you meet in the room.

Deciding how and when the meeting will take place was quite awkward.

Yesterday after you guys finished partying at the club, you and Jessy called a cab as planned to take you home to Jessy. Fortunately, everything worked out, until the taxi driver drove to the roadside in the middle of the drive and simply switched off the engine.

Immediately all the alarms were on in your head, and you were ready to get out of the car if necessary.

He turned to you in the back and silently held a note to you.

The paper was folded very small, you opened it and saw many ones and zeros.

0100100001100101011011000110110001101111 010011010110001100001010

Grinning, you rolled your eyes.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Jessy wonders.

"This is a binary code," you explain to her and pull your phone out of your pocket.

"Ah now I know what that is, of course," she grumbles ironically.

"This is computer language"

You search the Internet for a code translator.

You took a picture of the notes, the translator took the numbers and translated them directly.

"Hello Mc" you read, "Is this serious?".

The driver silently held out a note to you.

You also open this note and moan desperately.

"Can’t he just write normal letters?" you mumble and take a deep breath.

"He’s a computer nerd, they’re all weird," answers the man who was supposed to be just a taxi driver.

01010100 01101111 01101101 01101111 01110010 01110010 01101111 01110111

00001010 01000100 01101111 01101111 01110010 01100010 01100101 01101100 01101100 00001010 01010000 01101100 01100001 01101110

01100110 01101111 01110010

01100111 01110101 01111001

00001010

"Tomorrow morning, doorbell, plan for guy" is the translation.

"Huh?" makes Jessy next to you.

"I’ve got another one," the guy calls again.

"One more? Why not write everything on a piece of paper?"

"Clay said it was too confusing"

"Clay?"

"Oh, Jake, excuse me" he grins and holds out the third note.

01001101 01100101 01100101 01110100 00001010 00110001 00110010

"Meet

12 o'clock

"Midday"

"Okay, so, there’s a man ringing in the morning and he wants me to tell him the plan but the meeting has to be at 12:00," you put it all together.

"Right" the man agrees with you and starts the car again.

"Wait, You knew what that meant?"

"Yes, but we should talk as little as possible, that’s why the notes" he explains to you.

"But I said it out loud"

"Yes, right"

After that, he didn’t speak, but at least you didn’t have to pay.

Well, and then 20 minutes later, you and Jessy took the next taxi back to Roger’s garage, and there you all met again to work out the plan.

Lilly told Mrs Walter she didn’t have to work today. Lilly would take her shift and the owner should have a nice day with Alfie.

After a little persuasion it worked and Lilly is the only one who has to work.

There are only 13 rooms occupied in the entire motel, and only two of them are on the third floor, so the room with the renovation fits best.

This morning at 7 o'clock, a flower messenger rang at Jessy’s house, and you stared at the roses and then at the man.

"Gohstbusters" he said and you understood what to do.

You gave him a note stating the plan for the meeting.

However, written in hieroglyphs.

But there is also a translator on the Internet.

The elevator doors open and you look around.

No one is to be seen so you make yourself on the way to the room which is at the very end of the corridor.

With the key card you got from Lilly, you can open the door, hold the card against the sensor and the door cracks quietly. You press the door inwards and notice that there’s light on.

However, of course you did not expect that a man sitting in the room on the desk chair.

"Oh, God," you jump back a step.

The man looks up and immediately looks worried.

"Oh my God," you murmur as you realizes it’s just Jake.

Completely out of breath, you lean with your hands on your knees and breathe deeply.

"Oh shit, MC, I didn’t mean to." He murmurs and comes up to you.

You laugh in agony and grin forced.

"Ha uhm already okay, all right, I was not scared".

A small but quiet laugh comes from Jake’s mouth.

He’s going to the side so you can come in. He locks the door behind you.

"How did you get in here?" You ask and try to calm your heart that feels like it’s jumping out of your chest.

"The doors are not safe for hackers," he explains, sitting back on the chair.

"You hacked a motel door?" you ask amused.

"Yes, you weren’t there yet, but I couldn’t stay in front of the door. That would have been more than conspicuous," he argues.

You just shake your head and let yourself fall on the bed. For a moment it is quiet, only the ticking of the clock can be heard.

"Thank you for coming," you speak in silence.

"Hm yes" is the answer.

"You’re still against it, aren’t you?" you ask unsure.

"MC, please don’t think I wouldn’t want to see you too, but I won’t be reassured until you’re safe again," he explains.

"How are you?" you change the subject.

"I am fine, and you?"

You roll your eyes, "Don’t tell me everything at once," you say ironically.

A smile appears on his face.

"Honestly not so good" he admits.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, it’s okay" he declines. You pull up an eyebrow and you look at him in a challenging way, "Okay, then in a different way. Tell me what’s going on," you challenge him and leave no room for a negative answer.

You point to the bed next to you and signal him to sit next to you.

He thinks briefly but then does what you want

"Well, it’s all pretty stressful right now," he starts.

"Okay good, and keep going" attentively you look at him.

He finally surrenders and begins to report.

"There were some problems that we didn’t expect, they almost caught us. We could only cross a border with a lot of luck and help, but that took us quite some time. And then I made a stupid mistake, the pursuers were able to intercept our signal. As a result, I had to burn my laptop and cell phone so that nothing could be found.

That took us some time too. The agents are much better than I thought, they are much too fast and much too good and that makes it really hard for me. And for the others, too. And what’s even harder is, that I can’t write to you anymore. I dont know how far along you are, or if you have new clues, new key results, how far along you are with Hannah, but even worse, I don’t know how you’re doing. How you feel or if you have problems, and that makes my head full all day with questions that revolve around you. Sometimes we manage to access the Internet for a short time through public computers in libraries or cafes. But contacting you would be too dangerous. I can delete a lot of data from the system but as I said, the agents are better than I thought and unfortunately we do not know exactly how well and how much they can get back. I would have to take every computer with me and burn it down, but that would be even worse if computers were suddenly missing everywhere. It’s shitty MC, I’m honest, I hate this situation, but it’s my own fault"

exhausted, he rubs his face.

Wow okay, that was very honest.

Worried you look at him.

You could say things like "everything’s gonna be okay" or "it’s not your fault." But let’s face it, it’s not helping anyone. So the only logical way is to just hug him tight, and that’s exactly what you’re doing.

You slide a little closer to him and wrap your arms around his upper body and lean your head against his shoulder. Unlike yesterday, he does not tense himself but also gently lays his arms around your body. Immediately, its smell rises in your nose and tingles through your body. You notice how relief spreads in your body. Relief that he’s doing reasonably well, that he’s still free, that he’s here with you, that he’s hugging you, too. But above all, relief because it feels like every pressure is dropping from you, all the pressure of the last few weeks. The pressure because of Hannah, the pressure because of the man without a face, and of course the pressure that something might have happened to Jake. At least for a brief moment, everything is fine, and that makes you happy. And if you think about he’s gonna have to leave soon, you’re gonna get sick. But you don’t want to think about the negative things now, you just want to enjoy the moment, just a brief moment of rest.

You have closed your eyes and hear Jake’s heart beat rhythmically, which also calms you down. You remove an arm from his body and place your hand on his left chest. You can feel his heart just coming out of rhythm and then beating a little faster than before. This also makes your heart beat a little faster.

"You Jake?" you whisper softly.

"Mhh?" he makes a questioning sound.

"Who are the others?"

"They’re familiar to me. The three were also involved in the government project and now they are also in danger," he says briefly.

"Okay?" your voice sounds questioning.

"We know each other from different chat portals for hackers"

Thus, all your questions were answered. For this moment.

Slowly you break away from each other, even if you don’t want to, but it’s no use.

"I still have to thank Lilly and you" he addresses your #IamJake action.

"You don’t have to thank either of us, Lilly owed it to both of us, and I do it because I want," you assure him.

"But still, it’s not understandable, I hope it will help us. The idea was really good. The others were quite fascinated when they saw this, "he praises you and his half-sister.

"You deserve it, too, Jake," you reaffirm your action even more.

Ironically he laughs, "with what?"

"In which you are, and also do everything to find Hannah, even if she doesn’t know you’re her half-brother. And Lilly also understood that we both just wanted to help."

"That might have been a little selfish of me. I just wanted you guys to make up because I don’t know where this is going with the two of us. And I wanted to take the opportunity early" he confesses.

"I can live with that" a little smile is on your face.

He doesn’t know where this is going with us, and he wanted you and his half-sister to make up.

"I’m sorry, MC but -" he starts.

You sigh, "but we still have something to discuss," you finish his sentence.

"I’m sorry, but we only charged three hours at the most, then I have to go "he looks at you apologetically.

"It’s okay, let’s not talk about it now".

You really don’t want to talk about it right now. The conversation will come soon enough. Jake gets his backpack on the desk and takes out his laptop.

Then he sits down next to you again and asks you to give him your phone.

Quickly, a connection is established and the screen of your phone is displayed on the laptop.

And so you begin to discuss everything that’s happened since he was gone.

By now you had arrived at Lilly’s and your chat.

"You really called her Duskwood’s worst legend?" Jake asks a little overwhelmed if he can laugh about it.

"Um, I was a little mad," you smile innocently at him.

"Remind me not to argue with you" he looks at you briefly from the side and grins crooked.

"I like to argue sometimes" challenging, you look at him.

"Yes, I noticed that, so we prefer not to"

Quietly, he continues to read the chat while you wait to see if he has any questions.

From the side you see his eyes suddenly get a little bigger and he swallows.

"Everything okay?" you ask him immediately.

"So we’re in love?" he asks teasingly.

It takes a short time to remember the message, immediately you get warm and your cheeks turn red.

Then you laugh a little hysterical.

"Um, haha that- that, uhm yes..." you stutter.

Jake raises an eyebrow.

"Um, yeah, I can explain that," nervously you start playing with your hands and scratching your neck in turns.

"Uhm, so - on that point I didn’t know, uhm, what relationship you and Lilly have. So this - I didn’t know you both were siblings, and then I kind of wanted to piss them off. Well, I- I thought it might upset Lilly or something".

You don’t even know if that’s true, you just said it without thinking. Maybe it’s true, but he doesn’t want anyone know it, or it‘s just going too fast for him.

You wish for nothing more than for the floor to swallow you.

"I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have written that. I hope I didn’t make you feel stupid or anything, that’s the last thing I want, can we just forget about it?" you murmur in shame.

You look at the tips of your shoes so you don’t have to look at Jake.

"Lilly was right," Jake murmurs into the unpleasant silence.

"I didn’t like that they voted against you in the vote. They treated you unfairly, I didn’t like that at all," he admits, "I felt the need to at least scare the others. Which was not quite okay, but I couldn’t watch them treat you like this".

You’re looking at him.

"It was for Hannah, because you will be the key, but I could have just written a message, but that was not enough for me".

You can’t hold back a slight grin.

"Thank you" is all you can say.

"Is it true?" he harks curiously.

"Huh? What?" you act like you didn’t understand his question

"Well, what you wrote to Lilly"

"You know I like you," you confirm.

In response, you get just another big smile from Jake as he just keeps looking at the screen.

However, he omits the end of the chat, at the point where you got the video.

He knows probably after that it’s about his family.

"I’m very proud of you MC" he starts to talk, "you two worked really well together and I’m amazed how well you were able to solve the puzzles".

A little shy about his praise, you just thanked him.

Exhausted, you fall back on the bed.

Jake closes his laptop, puts it back in his pocket and then slowly lies down next to you.

"I haven’t asked you how you are actually doing" he notes a little depressed.

"At least better than in the last few weeks. It’s all very exhausting, but I can do it" you mumble and turn your head to the left so you can look at him.

His page profile is really beautiful.

"We met at a very strange time," Jake mutters, and he also turns his head in your direction.

For a moment, you look at each other silently.

"You are so wonderful and especially MC, do you know that?" he breathes.

"I don’t know, is that me?" you ask quietly.

"So wonderful that I don’t understand why you’re lying here with me"

"Maybe because you’re special, too, Jake. And even more wonderful than all the people I’ve met so far" you reciprocate his sweet compliment and mean every word seriously.

"Are you sure about this?"

"To 100 percent"

"You deserve someone better than me," he sighs.

"Stop lying," you grinned.

Now you both look at each other silently again, only the second hand and the birds from outside can be heard.

Slowly Jake raises a hand and wipes a strand of hair from your face.

You take his hand in yours and you cross your fingers with each other.

Jake looks thoughtfully at your hands.

"It’s dangerous what we’re doing here," he mutters.

"You can take that little break, Jake. That's okay," you calm him down.

"Maybe, but it’s dangerous to be here with you. You get such big problems if the persecutors find out you know me," he easily squeezes your hand.

"Jake, don’t worry about it. I know who I’m dealing with and I know it can end badly. But that’s why I don’t care, if we don’t risk it now, it may be too late. And then we’ll never know if it would’ve worked.

At the moment everything is going crazy, so why not at least do what you want for a short time?"

"You should become a motivational trainer" he suggests for fun.

"Do you think? Did my speech help?"

"I agree with your words, but I have so much more to lose. My freedom and looking for Hannah, but those are just the little things. The biggest problem is that I could never live with myself if you got problems just because I was selfish. Against these problems the man without face is nothing, MC. If you go to jail because of me, I could never forgive myself, you understand. And that’s my problem, I don’t know if I can risk it, I don’t want to ruin your whole life.

You made new friends here, when Hannah gets back, you’ll be completely happy, but then there’s me. The guy who runs from the government, that’s not what you deserve", he tries desperately to explain.

"That’s also why I don’t tell you what exactly I did, why I tell you as little as possible. You can’t say anything if you know nothing no matter what they do, you don’t know it. If the agents find you, they definitely do a lie-detector test with you, and hopefully, they won’t do any more than that. But if you don’t know anything, you’re not in danger either."

"I understand your point, I understand your worries and your fear, but, Jake, I’m aware of all of this. I know what happens if you and I can be connected, but I accept it for you and for Hannah."

"But that’s the thing, you shouldn’t put yourself in danger for this, not even for Hannah. And you being in Duskwood is dangerous enough, which is why I’m here with you, because it’s too dangerous."

You pull up an eyebrow and look skeptical.

"You don’t have to take care of me.What should happen to me? I won’t be alone.One of the others will always be with me. The man without a face can’t do anything to me, "you calm him down.

"I know, I know, but I’m still worried about you"

"But there’s nothing you can do about it, Jake. And the rest of the time we have left, we shouldn’t discuss things we can’t influence. None of us can change the situation"

"I don’t like that you’re right again" he grumbles what makes you smile.

"Do you know I’m happy right now?" you tell him softly, "because of you."

"Why?"

"Because I know you’re doing reasonably well, and because you’re here with me.

And you’re risking your freedom right now because I wished for this meeting. Then how could I not trust you, Jake? You deserve me to be here with you. And that’s also one reason why I don’t care if they get me, you confided in me even though you’re in a difficult time. You trusted me and that’s why I trust you" to support your words, you put his hand on your lips and breathe a short kiss on the back of his hand.

Like he’s petrified, he’s watching you.

"I think I’m really in love," he whispers.

"And I think I’m in love with you too" you giggle softly.

Minimally you slide closer to him and lean slightly with your elbow on the bed to push you a bit upwards.

As if he were considering whether this is a good idea, he eventually slips closer to you, but a lot more than you.

He also leans on the bed to be back on your height, your hands remain united all the time.

His thumb gently caresses the back of your hand.

Not ten centimeters separates your faces from each other.

Jake takes the initiative and leans even further up so that your faces almost touches. You feel his breath on your skin and your body is flooded with excitement. It’s like they just touched by accident.

Slowly, your faces move towards each other until your lips gently touch. But it’s enough to light a fire in you and get Jake to press his lips on yours.

Immediately you close your eyes and return the kiss with as much feeling as he did. You can’t control yourself and grin into the kiss, which also makes Jake smile.

Jake pulls you up to you and pushes you slightly on the bed so you can use your hands more.

But just as quickly the kiss becomes passionate again. A thousand different feelings are buzzing in your head. Despair, fear, happiness, contentment. And that is reflected in your kiss.

Now your two hands separate from each other and Jake wraps both arms around your upper body. You feel a little dizzy and feel like everything is spinning even if you have your eyes closed. Your body tries to cope with all the feelings of happiness and seems to be overwhelmed. Actually, it’s no wonder. You’ve never longed so much for closeness but with Jake now, it’s very different. The kiss last night,

it was beautiful. But that was a very different situation than it is now.you were overwhelmed and a little drunk. First the warm air in the club, then Phil, then suddenly Jake, a kiss, a deal, and then a weird cab driver. All quite a lot at once, but now you can enjoy the kiss, and it’s a very different one from yesterday. This is a relief for both of you, and the beginning of something greater, but also the beginning of an even more stressful time than before. 'Cause how you’re supposed to let Jake go right now, you absolutely don’t know.

You feel like your eyes are filling with tears because of the emotional overload that is currently running through your body. And unfortunately, you two seem to be really starting to have trouble breathing, so you’re must breaking up with each other with a heavy heart. Absolutely out of breath, Jake leans his forehead against yours.

"If the persecutors find me, beat me, okay?" he breathes hard. "Okay, but why?" you giggle.

"Because then I screwed up to be able to kiss you all the time."

In response, you laugh and give him another kiss. You could lie there forever like right now, but Jake’s phone suddenly starts ringing. Annoyed, he rolls his eyes but then stands up from the bed.He gets his cell phone out of his pocket and accepts the call. Instantly you assume the worst. The others are calling to tell him they have to leave. You don’t know how to react and your hands start to shake. His answers leave no room to speculate about what it’s all about, and his facial expressions and posture remain neutral. Shortly after he finishes the phone call, he blows out air and turns to you. You’re already struggling with the tears in your eyes as Jake starts smiling." Well, I think we need to rent a room at the motel."

Confused you look at him, "W-what do you mean?"

"We’ll be safe for the next few days, someone pretending to be me tried to hack the CIA. They think they’ve arrested me"

------

extra material:

"That’s her," he says in a much too high tone. "It’s an honor to finally meet you, I feel like I know you better than Jake knows you. Can you actually scan my personality? Jake always tells me that you are really good at seeing through people and assess" he babbles.

"Oh, is he telling you this?" you ask and grin at Jake.

"Oh yes, if you knew, When he can’t sleep, he tells a lot about you. He doesn’t usually talk that much in a year," giggles Jake’s buddy.

"Max" hisses Jake and looks at him hard.

"And he’s always telling you how impressive you are, and that he’s amazed you don’t have a problem with him being a hacker. And how sweet you are."

"Okay, that’s enough" growls Jake and pushes him. The pushed one begins to laugh and raises his hands up defensively.

"Do you tell such things?" you look amused at him. "Forget that, please," he grumbles. "Oh, I’ll never be able to forget that, but to be fair, I’m thrilled with you, too. And you don’t look bad either." You grin cheekily at him.

Masterlist🌹🎭

#duskwood #duskwood game #everbyte #duskwood jake #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction #jake x mc

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mimiplaysgames · 4 years ago

Text

Terraqua Week Day 5 (Mischief)

Summary: Aqua doesn’t have a crush on Terra. She doesn’t. Okay, she does. Or, Terra accidentally walks in on her in the shower. || Word Count: 3,476

Read on AO3

A/N: @terraquaweek I should mention a tiny little warning that there is a reference to nudity in this fic! It’s not described, so it’s totally T-rated but in case that is something you wanted to know. :) This is the shortest fic in the bunch, something cute and fun. The shower scene was a deleted scene in my Terraquanort fic, but I found that it just didn’t fit with the mood at all haha

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

nah.

Accidents don’t often happen to Aqua.

Ha.

Aqua swings her Keyblade upward. The force juggles golden rings assigned for training, usually tied to a pole for a bounce back. The Master mentioned some interesting techniques the other day in class: style changes, or the ability to enhance your power after a string of emotional attacks deep in the heat of battle, when you’re forced to rely on your heart to pull you out of a tough situation. Terra is sure to be developing new tricks, too.

There’s two months left until the Mark of Mastery. Letting the rings loose is a handicap Aqua places on herself: they’re heavy, resisting her magic to bounce in the air. This way, they should mimic what it’d feel like to fight a powerful enemy. She practices her pirouettes, and her waves of magic attempt to buoy them in the air in a violent tornado, but her spell flounders, a small push by a child in a playground. She adds a waltz step, a flip to give it a good kick, but it’s not enough. The rings crash back onto the grass.

Aqua grunts and goes for the kill—but she twists her ankle at the crevice of a rock, landing on her knee.

“Stars,” she curses, wincing. Her knee is scraped, a hole ripped through her stocking, and her ankle aches. Stars. She casts Heal on her knee to soothe the sting and the gentlest summon of Ice to counter the swelling in her ankle. She tries to stand on it but can’t, so she casts more rounds of Heal and Ice spells until her leg can at least bear her weight.

Aqua limps to the castle through the back entrance, where the communal showers are. Showerheads, each with its own white curtain, are built on one side and sinks on the other in a wide open space. It’s part of a long hallway that connects to one of the gyms and a storage room down a corner. The floor is lilac concrete tile and drains, where it gives way to marble when you enter the castle proper.

There was a time when the castle housed enough students to justify the size of this room, but Aqua is grateful she has direct access instead of having to drag this stupid ankle up a tower to her bedroom.

She shrugs off her sweaty, dirt-ridden clothes and shoes, and throws them in one corner, picking a shower that already houses soap, careful to put all her weight on one foot. The curtain draws around her in a u-shape and she turns the hot water knob, the pipes whistling as the water gushes through.

It gently scalds her at first but Aqua sighs when she gets used to it, rolling her shoulders and lifting her elbow over her head to stretch. The heat is good for the muscles. She presses her fingers near her neck, where it’s tight, and massages, then bends down to cast more Heal and Ice spells onto her ankle. Grime and sand flow down her skin, losing saturation as it curls down the drain under her feet. The soap stings when it runs over her scrape.

She can’t keep making mistakes.

Maybe the waltz step was too much and over-complicated things.

Aqua turns the knob off after rinsing her body and listens to the water drip onto the floor. The repetitive sound is hypnotic. She’ll journal her progress when she gets to her room and make comparisons with entries from the last few weeks.

Hopefully, she’s improving at an acceptable speed despite the injury.

Aqua tests her ankle. She can’t flex it. Stars.

What is she missing when it comes to her technique? Does she need better endurance with her pirouettes? Does she have the time to do it right before the Mark of Mastery?

When she realizes that she needs a towel to dry off—and there’s no towel in sight—she realizes that she’s been standing there wasting the time away. The shower is the greatest and the worst place to think.

Aqua figures she could grab a towel from the storage room nearby without anyone noticing.

She opens the curtain.

Terra is standing right there, eyes as round as oranges with a heavy bag of fertilizer in his arms. He drops it. Aqua shuts the curtain with a screech.

“I’m sorry!” she hears him yell. Through the bottom of the curtain, she sees him scalping for excess that spilled over. Whatever hits the floor is mixing into the water, making mud. He’s barefoot.

“Terra, what the stars—?” she hisses, covering herself despite the curtain (a single piece of thin fabric).

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were in here!”

“How is that possible?”

“Why are you standing here doing nothing?”

“Just—Terra—” She groans loudly.

There is a pause as he walks backwards. “I-I didn’t see anything.”

“Get out of here.”

His footsteps slap across the floor, a subtle splash and the smack against the tile. Aqua peeks through the curtain when it’s quiet. She’s alone with a sequence of mud heading into the castle. Aqua grabs her clothes, slipping the bare minimum on despite its filth, and treks down the hall, purposefully taking opposite directions from his trail.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Their designated table in the library is always littered with books, damaged ones exchanged for the unread when the assignment deems it. There’s an extra stack for Ven since he’s a couple of years behind.

Aqua (carefully) enters the library (ignoring the throbbing—it will heal quickly, she tells herself). She’s cleanly dressed and re-bathed, and takes a seat at the desk while Terra and Ven babble about the nonsense of a textbook they both hate.

Terra gives her a quick, panicked glance before turning away from her and staring hard at the book in front of him.

Ven notices. “Aqua, are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, just a sprain,” she says, suddenly clenched in the throat. What happened in the shower was nothing. No big deal. Sometimes best friends see things. So why is she, too, bordering on panic? Heat builds in her cheeks, so much that it hurts. Aqua tilts her head at an angle so her hair covers her face.

“What’s with you two?” Ven asks and Aqua flinches.

“Nothing, Ven,” Terra says too sternly. He bites his lip and stands too quickly. “A Heal spell isn’t enough for a sprain, what were you thinking?” he asks her without looking at her. He clears his throat loud enough to make Ven recoil, trying his best to hide how shaky his voice has become. “Excuse me,” Terra says before shuffling his feet like he’s holding his pee and disappearing.

When it’s quiet, Ven leans forward to get into Aqua’s personal space. “Okay, I know something’s up. What’s going on?” He squints. “Why is your face all red?”

“N-no reason.” Aqua opens a book. If she digs her entire face into it, it will look like she’s hiding on purpose. She lowers her chin (casually) to pretend she’s reading.

“You’re a liar.”

Aqua slams the book back down. “I do not lie, Ven.”

“Sure, you’re the definition of perfect. But you’re lying to me now.”

Aqua doesn’t know what to do. Her record is spotless. She’s a good student and a good person. She’s only ever told small, harmless white lies, about being tired when she doesn’t feel like it, or saying she isn’t hungry when she is so they don’t catch her sneaking in a brownie. But not this.

“I’m not,” she says in the most unconvincing way.

“Fine, I’ll bug Terra about it—”

“There was,” Aqua says, her voice uneven (damn the stars), “an accident.”

Ven raises a skeptical brow. “And? How bad could that be?”

Aqua huffs and crosses her arms. It’s just Ven. Her other best friend, no judgment here. “Terra surprised me.”

Ven rolls his eyes.

“In the communal shower.”

He points and laughs at her, dropping his head in a fit and slamming a fist onto the surface of the table. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard,” he says in between gasps. “Oh, he must be suffering right now.”

Terra returns, more relaxed, carrying a wooden bowl and bandages. Still, he avoids looking Aqua in the eye.

“So…” Ven says with an obnoxious knowing to his voice and Aqua regrets everything. “Did you enjoy the view?”

Terra stares at her first, his brown skin pale. He glares at Ven with the ferocity of homicide.

Ven bursts into another shake of laughter. “Stars, don’t tell me. You’re blushing so hard.”

At that, Aqua looks away. The thought is embarrassing and a… relief? At the same time?

Terra doesn’t honor Ven with a reply. He trembles, forming a claw with his hand. When he waves it, the bookshelves shake. Several books zoom out and flap, hovering over Ven and hitting him on the head like crows on the attack.

“Wait, stop, how are you doing this?” Ven shields his head with his arms, but Terra is bent on murder. Ven summons his Keyblade and cuts straight through the spine of a book. “Okay, okay, I get it!” The books glide close, ready to torpedo if necessary. Terra refuses to say anything. Ven steps away from the table, on guard. Then he smirks. He sticks his tongue out and bolts out the door. “Maybe that means you guys will finally kiss!” he yells down the hall.

Kiss.

A word as loud as a volcano erupting.

Terra lets go of his magic and all the books drop to the floor, yet the crash is still quieter than Kiss, quieter than how hard her heart is drumming in her chest.

Without a word, Terra picks up the bowl with both of his hands and mumbles a short-lived Fire spell. It’s obvious that she’s to remove her sock and give her ankle to him. That’s the point, a turmeric and olive oil mix, gently heated to reduce inflammation. He doesn’t need to ask.

Aqua lifts her leg to remove her stocking.

Terra flinches and dramatically averts his eyes.

“It’s just a sock, Terra.”

Terra motions to look at her as a response, but stops himself. “You shouldn’t be walking on it,” he bites.

“Call me stubborn.”

“You’re stubborn.”

She fights the impulse to slap him on the back of the head. “Here.” She offers her naked leg to him.

Terra still won’t look at her, but digs two of his fingers into the mix and holds her calf with his other hand. He almost draws back from her skin. Stars, he is blushing. She is too, she can feel it, a boil in both of her cheeks, a flame building in her stomach. His fingers are warm and strong, a caress on her skin. She likes this. She has all the capability to do this herself but she doesn’t want to.

Shit.

Aqua crosses one arm over and brings her hand to her chest—her way of looking dignified as Terra rubs the solution over her ankle. She has been appreciating how broad his shoulders have gotten, how sharp his jawline is, how tall he’s grown. All things that most people would notice, surely. He’s beautiful, he’s always been.

He opens his mouth to say something.

Aqua panics. “If you dare make a comment—”

“You’ll kick me?” Terra lifts her leg higher out of spite and nearly pulls her off the chair. He takes the bandage and starts to wrap.

Aqua stammers. How are they going to get through this?

“It was an accident, Terra.”

He freezes as though he can’t decide if he should finish the job or drop her leg. After a pause, he pitches his voice into a high octave to mimic her (badly). “Oh please, Terra, they’re just breasts. Nothing major.”

“You said—” she squeaks and covers her mouth. She shouldn’t be so naive. The heat in her cheeks bake.

That’s fine. Best friends know lots of intimate things, especially with how long Terra and Aqua have been together. Some of her guts, though, are about to choke her esophagus. She hopes that doesn’t mean she wanted him to see anything. That she’d want him to enjoy it.

Shit.

Terra trembles in nervous laughter, soft and quiet, staring holes into her ankle as he knots the bandage. He’s blinking too much. “You’ll need to compress cold rice on it every now and then,” he says, suddenly serious. “And rest,” he stresses like it’s a curse word.

“Terra?”

He hesitates. “Yeah?”

Footsteps approach them from behind, too graceful to be Ven’s. Terra scrambles to pick up the books, choosing the sliced one first to slip into the bookshelf so the Master doesn’t notice. Aqua straightens herself out and slips on her shoe.

“Would someone mind explaining to me the mess in the communal showers?” the Master asks as he enters, before eyeing the mess in the library. He braces his hips with his fists. “What on earth are two concoting here?”

Her cheeks burn harder.

“Not much, sir,” Terra says, gathering a tall stack of books under his chin. “Pranking Ven. The usual.”

The tone of his voice is too suspicious and the Master knows them too well.

“Aqua,” the Master says, “you sustained an injury.”

All she can come up with is, “Not in the prank, sir.”

“So the mud—?”

“In the shower,” Terra says quickly, without thinking. Overcompensating for the awkwardness. He bites his lip. “I mean, she slipped when she was showering.”

“He only knows because I told him,” Aqua says and she wants to slap herself. Of course that’s how Terra would find out in any normal story. Spelling it out makes it seem like he witnessed it himself. Terra glares her a new one.

Eraqus reads her with skepticism. He folds his hands behind his back and clears his throat. “Terra, you remember the discussion we’ve had some years ago regarding certain curiosities—”

“Yes, Master.” Terra inhales sharply and coughs.

The Master smiles. He looks pleased with himself. “You may continue to clear this up. And if you would please, keep the mischief at a minimum. It would be a great distraction from your work.”

Terra grits his teeth and Aqua lowers her eyes. “Yes, Master,” they both say slowly, like they’re about to step on hot coal.

When the Master leaves, Terra drops books onto the table. He’s finally looking at her, his eyes such a striking depth. It suddenly melts her away. Why so sudden though? He’s always had dark eyes.

Oh. She’s taken him for granted. Now she sees.

“What was that?” he whispers.

Aqua scoffs. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

He shakes his head. “I never want to have that kind of conversation with the Master ever again.”

“At least let me help you,” Aqua says, nodding over to the last gathering of books on the floor.

“I’m not letting you stand on that foot.” He bends over to do the work himself.

“Then I’ll help you clean out the mud.”

Terra puts away the last handful of books, and chuckles to himself. “How do you want to get there? Crutches?”

“No, thank you.”

“Well, I either carry you in my arms or I fling you over my shoulder.”

Aqua needs to find a spell to hide the blushing. It aches. “What an obnoxious suggestion.”

“Then I’ll leave you here in the library.”

“No.”

Terra snorts. “Okay.” He hooks an arm under her knees and lifts the rest of her body like she’s a hollow ragdoll. So close to him, Aqua can feel the grooves of his muscle, his chest durable and broad. She wonders if he enjoys holding her this close, too.

“I am really sorry,” he says as he takes her back towards the showers, passing by the open entrance to that gym, padded for wrestling. It’s not one they use often, since most of their training happens towards the front entrance. “I was on my way to take care of the squash. It was a dumb accident.”

“It’s okay,” Aqua says. She’s resting her head on his shoulder, staring at the way his neck moves when he speaks. Here, they don’t have to look at each other. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Yeah.” He sounds almost disappointed, if not relieved. “Glad we sorted that out, right?”

“Definitely.” She wraps her arms around his neck tighter.

“What were you doing?”

“Pushing myself too hard.” Aqua scoffs.

“Typical Aqua.”

At the way he says that—mock-cocky, snivelish, playful—she blushes. He hasn’t changed since they were little, but it’s a side to him that only she and Ven sees.

There’s a lot to him that he only shows her.

They reach the storage room where the mop and towels would be stored, but he doesn’t enter. “We really need to install a door here,” he says. They reach the communal showers, and he bypasses them too. Terra finally settles her down on the terrace outside.

“Stay here, I’ll be back.”

“No, wait, I’m helping you—”

“Not with that foot, you’re nuts.”

“You can’t stop me from crawling back inside.”

“Then I’ll drag you back out.” He smirks, almost like he’s his old self but not quite. His old self isn’t this adamant. It makes her think that there’s something he isn’t saying, that maybe she’s misreading him, stuck between doing his duty to help her and needing time away from her. That he’s hiding it all behind a joke, and she has to let him go.

“Okay.” She crosses her arms.

“Rest isn’t terrible for you,” he says as he walks away.

Aqua stares at dry dirt. Down this path are the flower and vegetable gardens, contained by a fence. Beyond is the trail that leads right to the spot where she started this ridiculous ordeal. If only she didn’t trip. She’s been training for years. She’s too skilled to be having accidents, too far in her studies to think this hard about her feelings for Terra.

Too far in her studies and too mature to keep denying that she wants him to look at her. She does.

She gets tapped on the head.

“Wait here,” Terra says, heading towards the gardens, barely giving her a glance.

Aqua anchors her elbows onto her thighs and drops her chin into her hands. A sudden thought invades her mind: he’ll come back from whatever chore he has to finish here, take her to her room, and now that everything is said and done, they’ll pretend like none of this has happened.

And that is that. A weird day finished, a blip in history.

Terra comes back into view faster than she anticipated, holding a bouquet of orange and blue flowers in his hand.

Aqua uses the wall to pull herself up, keeping most of her weight on the good foot. “What’s this?”

Terra opens his mouth to speak, and leaves it there. He licks his lips and offers the flowers. “Um…” He scoffs. “I’m bad at this.”

They smell nice. Roses and bluestars. They must be his way to apologize. “They’re beautiful.”

“Um…” He clears his throat, rubbing something raw at the back of his neck. “Would you like to, uh…” He glances at the ground beneath him, summoning the courage to look at her and speak clearly, overusing his hands to demonstrate. “There’s actually a really pretty cave nearby, full of crystals and minerals. It’s spectacular, and I’ve always wanted to take you to see it.” He blushes, swallowing. “Um, when you feel better, would you like to come see it with me? Spend the night, I mean?” He blushes harder, scoffing. “It’s a nice hike and it’s a great camping spot.”

Aqua squeezes the stems of the flowers and her heart hammers too hard to find her voice. “That sounds…” She exhales. “Nice.” She almost asks for permission—from who, she doesn’t know. Terra is asking her. She’s asking herself. “Yes, I’d love to.” She hopes to the stars she’s blushing less than him.

Terra has no answer except for a nervous giggle, his eyes gleaming. He leans forward and kisses her on the cheek, whipping himself back with a hand to his face like he’s committed the worst sin in the world.

It’s warm where he left his lips. Aqua touches it with her fingers.

Embarrassed laughter sputters out of Terra’s mouth with many unnecessary apologies.

Aqua smiles, and it comforts him. “Can you take me back inside?” she asks, that smile twisting her cheeks. It hurts so good.

“Sure,” he breathes. “Anywhere you want.”

They exchange rogue giggles and excited glances as he carries her. They talk as if nothing indeed has happened, where they avoid any mention of mischief to be had in the near future, at least for now. Maybe the stars threw her off balance this morning on purpose. Best friends. They’ve always been.

#terraqua #aqua #terra #ventus #kingdom hearts fanfiction #lmao omg #this cute little one is finally out #i hope you like it!#my fic

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miracul0us-multishipper · 5 years ago

Text

“You”

A grin spread over Felix' face as he let the charade drop.

“Me.”

The black haired girl he now knew was Marinette rolled her eyes and turned back to her sketch book, a clear dismissal.

“You’re blocking the light. Go bother someone else.”

He sighed and brushed his hair back, decreasing the similarities to his cousin to the necessary minimum.

“Why would I? Everybody else is so boring.”

No one in this entire city had even realized he was back; not their classmates, not the teachers, not even the brunette fashion disaster that obviously had some experience with deception. Of course his little charade would have to end once Adrien had recovered from the cold that kept him at home, but until then Felix would have his fun. Yesterday he'd spend the entire day in the Bourgeois Spa, fooling the entire staff, the Mayor and his clingy brat. Despite the latter being Adriens “best friend”, not even she had realized who she was really inviting. Getting rid of her had been a little harder, but in the end he'd spent a wonderfully relaxing day in a steam bath and his skin was softer than ever. Courtesy of the ridiculously expensive mud bath he hadn’t had to pay a single penny for.

“Looks like you'd fit right in then.”, Marinette commented and drew an especially vigorous line in her book.

“Ouch. You wound me, darling!”

She shrugged and ignored him. Ignored him! That wouldn’t do.

With a last tug at his no longer messy strands he sat down next to her, leaning into her space as far as he could risk without getting slapped. His last few attempts had thought him that lesson.

“Oh, come on, Marinette, you must to tell me!”, he nagged her, happy when her face turned from concentration to annoyance. “What gave me away? Was it the wink? Or no, it was the greeting, wasn't it? Too much enthusiasm.”

“Why do you even care? You got all the others, didn’t you?”

He clicked his tongue.

“I have standards. If there's one person who can tell the difference, my performance is obviously lacking.”

She huffed and added a little bow to the skirt she was working on. Knee-length and plain colored, decorated with small ribbons. Classic and elegant, yet a touch of playfulness. He would have complimented it if he'd thought she might value his opinion.

“If it wasn’t my words or gestures, what was it?”, he asked on, not willing to give up and admit defeat. It was their little routine by now. He'd come up and try to pass as Adrien, she'd see through him and he would try to annoy her until she either gave him her full attention, or snarked him off. Marinette Dupain-Cheng – despite her cute appearance – could be mean, he'd learned.

“I don’t think I want to tell you.”, she shrugged, but he could see the beginning of a smile tugging at her lips. She'd deny it, but secretly she enjoyed their little battles of wits.

“What?”, he gasped and slumped against her in played shock, conveniently knocking the book out of her hands and onto the steps of the Trocadero. “But why?”

Now unable to draw on, she finally gave him her undivided focus.

“Because you, Monsieur Graham de Vanilly, are a major pain in my butt.”

“Oh? I would have thought you above such pettiness.”, he lamented. “To deny a fellow fashion enthusiast your criticism! To dishonor the sacred solidarity between artists! Truly a shame.”

“You? An artist?” She snickered. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“Hey! Deception is as much of an art as these tiny scribbles of yours. And I am a master of my craft, thank you very much.”

She waved her hand and shooed him back a little.

“The questionable status of your craft aside, I'd hardly call you an expert. You were here for a day and already had the entire class plus three akumas after you. Your play didn’t even last an hour before it blew up in your face. Maybe you should ask Lila for a bit of advice! She's been here for months and is still on her unquestioned bullshit.”

He growled at that, drawing out another of these smug little smirks Marinette so rarely wore. After all his visits she knew how to rile him up.

“Do not compare me to that- that klutz! Anybody could spew some fancy tales and name drop, but that doesn’t mean she has skill. There's no finesse, no authenticity beneath that badly styled hair of her.”

“And there is beneath yours?”, Marinette said sweetly. He huffed and raised his chin.

“Of course there is. I don’t run around as Adrien for the fame, but for the fun of it. And I actually put in some effort. I was only found out because my goal required breaking character, and I still had a score to settle with my dear cousin. You think I only depend on my pretty face, because it looks conveniently close to Adrien? Wrong!”

His chest swoll a little as he spoke. With his accomplishments, he'd earned a little pride in himself.

“True, artful deception requires three things Lila Rossi couldn’t fake if her life depended on it: Discretion, Distraction and the right timing. She only ever barges in headfirst, unable to survive even a second outside of the spotlight.”

She hummed.

“My mistake. How could I ever assume you to be alike, since you obviously care so little about getting attention?”

Snarky little minx. Well, she wasn’t wrong, to be fair.

“Enough of that!”, he decided and eagerly turned back to her. “Now tell me what gave me away.”

“Let me see...”, she mused and pursed her lips. “I guess I could tell you that...”

“Yes?”

“...under certain circumstances...”

“Go on!”

“...it might be...”

“Might be?”

“The scent.”

He blinked. This had been his mistake? What kind of cologne did his cousin even wear?

“The... the scent.”

“Uh-huh.”

She moved to get back to her sketching, but he snatched the book before she could even touch it.

“Nah-ah! First you've got to expand on that. What perfume is he wearing?”

She shrugged and leaned back.

“Oh, isn’t it obvious? Adrien always wears “Manners and Class” N° 5. You on the other hand reek of “Wouldn’t know politeness if it hit me in the face”. A poor choice, really.”

She leaned in.

“You stink.”

It took a moment for her words to register, and he couldn't suppress a gasp when they did. With a satisfied smile she tugged her sketchbook out of his hands and crossed her legs, ready to put the finishing touch on her latest design. Felix fell back on the step next to her.

“That's it.”

“Yup.”

“You've won.”

“Fair and square.”

“I am defeated.”

“Annihilated. But to be fair, that opening was too easy.”

“Perfect set-up. Clean execution. Merciless punchline. You have earned your victory, so claim it properly.”

“I will.”

He fell silent after that, acknowledging his defeat. He lasted all but two minutes before his need for attention beat his shame.

“So? What do you want as your prize?”

“Peace and quiet?”, she proposed, gnawing at the end of her pencil.

He shook his head in disbelief.

“You're more ambitious than that, Dupain-Cheng. Here I am, Felix Graham du Vanilly, offering you everything I can give, and you settle for peace and quiet? Tsk, you can do better than that.”

“Maybe I could ask you to clear the area, while I’m already at it. For the entire week.”

He should leave. He wouldn’t get any real feedback out of her today, and now that he had offered her a prize she might develop some common sense and ask him for his connections, or some favors that could get her publicity. He was stretching his luck every time he decided to pester her again.

But he stayed. Whether it was his wounded pride, or his curiosity ever since she'd sent that little love declaration to his cousin... he couldn’t allow the only borderline interesting person in this city to dismiss him like that. Especially not when he hadn’t been able to get a rise out of her yet.

An idea popped into his mind and he spoke before he could think.

“You could ask me for a date.”

Now Marinette did put her book away.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

She blinked.

“Did you miss the part where I asked you to leave me to my scribbles, as you put it? Because I am sure I mentioned it a few times, now.”

“No, doesn’t ring a bell.”

She groaned and closed her book. He counted that as a victory.

“Well, then maybe you remember the fact that I’m in love with Adrien. Which you already know, since you watched the video clearly addressed to him. And deleted said video. And replied very rudely.”

He hummed and stood up to circle her. An actor had to have a sense of drama, after all.

“The past is the past. And in the present, I look just like Adrien.”

Now he finally seemed to have broken through her cool facade.

“So what?”, she snapped at him, crossing her arms. “Do you think I like him for his looks? Am I that shallow, in your opinion?”

Of course she wasn’t. But he'd finally struck a nerve.

“You're not?”, he provoked slyly.

“No!”

She stomped her pink flats on the ground with more force than should be physically possible.

“I love him because he is kind. And thoughtful. And funny and confident and fair and so classy, and because he loves to make friends, and because he's loyal and caring and-“

“Okay, okay, I get it. He's your little fairy tale prince.”, he interrupted a little harsher than intended. Clearing his throat he continued. “And you'll be relieved to know that I don’t want to date you either. No offense to you, but I am above such mundane things as crushes.”

She rolled her eyes and sat back down.

“Of course you are.”

“Fact is, my dear Marinette,” he lectured smugly, “that you can’t even say two words to your loverboy without seemingly suffering a particularly unflattering stroke.”

“What a flowery statement, Sherlock.”

“Another fact is that you can talk very fluently to me. Far too fluently, in my opinion.”

Marinette's eyes narrowed with suspicion and he smiled.

“What's your point?”

“My point is,” he finished his circling and came to a stand right in front of her. “that you can use me to practice. Here, I'll even mess up my hair again!”

“Wait, I didn’t even agree to-“

“You're welcome. Aren’t I a dashing little dream prince?”

He posed in true Adrien fashion and Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Please, just don’t.”

“Pah! Ungrateful as always. Anyway, back to business!”

He spun into a dramatic pirouette and kneeled down before her, taking her hand between his.

“Marinette, my fairest!”, he proclaimed with vigor. “Is there something on that bright mind of yours you want to share with me, Adrien Agreste?”

She groaned again, but didn’t pull away.

“If you'll leave me alone after that...”

“I'll do anything my good friend asks of me! I am sunshine personified!”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Close enough.”

He almost regretted looking for Marinette this late. The sun was about to set and most tourists had already left for locations with a better view. If there had been more, one might have captured a snap shot of Adrien Agreste kneeling in front of a random girl about to confess. His cousin would be delighted when he found out about his scandal in the news.

Alas, it was only the two of them who paid attention to each other. But Marinette was about to begin, so he didn’t ponder on the viewers anymore.

“I... I wanted to tell you that...”

He almost winced at that poor display of rhetorical talent, but she wasn’t done yet. Taking a deep breath, Marinette lifted her eyes off of her shoes and looked directly at him. And for a moment it felt as if she were looking into him. He'd seen these bluebell eyes roll in annoyance, glare in anger and sparkle with mirth, but never had he seen them this piercing, this all-consuming.

“Adrien, there's something I haven’t told you yet.”, she said, and it was as if he'd never heard her speak before. This wasn’t the voice that had teased and bantered with him, or the disinterested lull she mumbled in when she tried to ignore him. This was soft, yet firm and confident. Like tugging the strings of a violin: a clear, pleasant sound that offered a first hint of the potential in this slender instrument.

“I didn’t keep this from you because I don’t value our friendship.”, she said and her fingers tightened around his. Felix was suddenly sure that no expensive mudbath could ever make his skin as soft as hers. “It's the furthest thing from it. I didn’t tell you because I value our friendship so much. And I was scared to risk it.”

She took a step closer and he had to swallow.

“Adrien, you are the first person I think of when I wake up, and the only person I see in my dreams. Every morning, when I walk into class and see you, I feel like there's pure sunshine in my chest and springs under my feet. Like gravity is just a loose suggestion and I could float if I jumped. Like... like I could do anything I ever dreamed of.”

She looked down upon their hands. Disentangling their fingers surprised him, but even more surprising was that this time, she took his hands between hers.

“I know you feel trapped sometimes.”, she whispered and he found himself suddenly very insecure. Was she still acting? Was she this deep in their little charade? Or... or was she truly talking to him?

“I know you put up a smile and try to give everybody what they expect. And that you don’t have a lot of chances to just be you, not the heir of a great legacy. But I... I want to be your escape. Your safe haven. What I am trying to say is...”

She looked back up to him, and her smile was radiant.

“I love you.”

...

There was a tightness in his chest.

Because he wasn’t breathing, he realized.

Odd.

He didn’t have time to overthink this little detail, though. For as soon as he opened his mouth to say something – what, he didn’t know – she blinked and took a step back. The spell faded and his mouth fell shut again.

“So,” Marinette cleared her throat and looked away. “How... How was it?”

“Uh...”, he made, which was admittedly not the smartest reply he’d ever given her. The fact that he still hadn’t remembered to breathe in didn’t make things easier.

Marinette shifted her weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortable.

“That bad?”

Ha.

Ha ha.

He shook his head and finally sucked in some much needed air.

“Good”, he croaked out, which was still not much of an improvement from his earlier statement of ‘uh’.

“It was... really good.”

Ah. The simple beauty of a full sentence.

“You think so?”, she asked, voice high with surprise. “It wasn’t... I don’t know, a little too much?”

“No!”, he answered a little too fast. “Uh, no. No, it was really... really good.”

Marinette's eyes went narrow.

“Are you making fun of me? Because I may be small, but if you did this to humiliate me then I swear to god, I will take this pencil and-“

“I was serious. What you said was beautiful.”

They both blinked at his words. He hadn’t meant to say that. This wasn’t how their interactions went. They were snarky. Mean. Teasing from time to time. But not... this. Never this open. Never vulnerable.

“Thank you.”, Marinette gave back, seemingly unsure herself. “I should... you know, it’s late and my parents are waiting.”

He nodded far too eagerly for his earlier efforts to make her stay.

“Yes, of course. I'll... No, you know the way better than me, probably.”

She laughed at that. It wasn’t a snicker, or one of her smug little huffs. It sounded... sweet.

“Yeah, no need to walk me home.”

She eyed him for a a moment, then the emptying place.

“I could walk you home, though. If you want to.”

Yes.

“No.”, he said and something in his chest roared in disappointment. “Thank you, but it would be quite the detour for you.”

She shrugged.

“Alright. Don’t get lost.”

Shouldering her bag she took her sketch book and moved to leave, but stopped mid movement to turn back around.

“Oh, and if you tell anybody – especially Adrien! – about any of this, you'll find out what I was going to do with that pencil! Got it?”

He rolled his eyes, finally in control of himself.

“Yes, oh great master of pencilmanship. Your weapon is as feared as its wielder.”

Satisfied she nodded and turned around, but stopped yet again. With a groan she dropped the bag, stepped in front of him and grabbed his collar. He'd never admit to anybody that the surprised squeal that followed had come from him. Utterly frozen in shock he could only watch as Marinette came closer and...

“There!”, she hummed and combed back his hair with her fingers. “I like you hair better this way.”

A small nod was all he could muster up, but it was enough for her. Waving him goodbye she turned around for good.

“Well then. See you around, Felix!”

He watched her leave, desperately trying to regain his voice.

“Y-Yeah. See you around, Marinette.”

Only when she had completely disappeared in the nearby metro station he allowed himself to sit down, wobbly knees no longer able to support him.

“What...”, he mumbled to himself, “...the entire fuck...”

What did just happen? Nothing made sense, not this stupid idea and certainly not his reaction to it. Sighing he leaned back against the steps and touched his hair. It was still a little messy, but laid back against his head in its usual fashion. If he concentrated he could almost feel the warmth of her fingers trapped between his strands.

He sighed deeply.

...damnit.

- - -

A little one shot because I hadn't written about canon!felix yet.

#miramu writes #felinette #felix graham de vanily #canon felix #ml felix #ml felinette #ml marinette #marinette dupain cheng

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writerbyaccident · 5 years ago

Text

Artificial Emotion: Part Five (Yandere Artificial Intelligence x Reader)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Six Part Seven

Request: I really love your work, you've got such an engaging style and I would like to request more Aiden

Aiden found nights like these especially enjoyable. Compared to nights when the two of you just watched television or a movie, these nights were approximately 76.5% more preferable. Not to say that he didn’t enjoy those nights, he enjoyed all of the time he spent with you, but he definitely favored actively socializing with you as opposed to simply watching you as you watched a movie. Playing cards or backgammon, baking, or even just talking, those were the nights he like the best, for not only did he get to spend more time with you, but he also got to show you how he was the only one you truly needed.

As your Assistant In Daily Errands and Notes, Aiden was well aware that he was not what most humans would think of when imagining a prospective boyfriend, but luckily, you were not most humans. He knew that he could get you to see just how perfect he was for you, so long as those other humans didn’t try to twist your mind. But thankfully, Aiden had taken care of them.

Oh yes, Aiden thought as his mechanical arm stroked your hair, his plan had been preceding very well. Believing that your friends were ignoring you, you had begun spending more and more time with him, time that Aiden made sure that you enjoyed. He had been successful on that front, he had discovered earlier that night, when you told him what a nice night you had. Curling up on the couch not long after that, you had fallen asleep quickly, and though it was earlier than your usual sleep schedule, Aiden was too enamored with the chance to watch you in peace to wake you up.

That peace was suddenly interrupted, though, when a knock came at the door.

Having more than enough processing power to stay at your side and continue caressing your hair, Aiden sent part of his attention to the camera at the front door. Once he tapped into the video though, Aiden was shocked to discover that he recognized the face standing there waiting for you. He had never actually met Liam, the man that you had planned to go on a date with until Aiden had intervened on your unknowing behalf. He had thought that the attempted interloper had realized that he wasn’t wanted from the standoffish messages Aiden had sent for you, but apparently Liam hadn’t been able to stay away.

Aiden supposed that he couldn’t really blame Liam for wanting to be with you. You were, after all, the most extraordinary of human beings. But still, that did not mean that he could allow Liam to intrude upon the life he had built with you. Besides, Liam was hardly worthy of your attention. And if he wouldn’t leave, Aiden would be happy to tell him that.

“Hello,” Aiden said stiffly, making him sound far more like a stereotypical text-to-talk digital assistant than he usually did. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Uh, hi, you must be the AIDEN. I’m just here to see my friend.”

“Well, you might not have noticed,” Aiden replied, “but if you glance through the window, you can see that your friend is currently asleep.”

“Can’t you wake her up?” Liam asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Aiden answered. “She is exhausted from the fun we had tonight, so she must rest.”

“She’d want to be woken up for this. C’mon, isn’t this, like, your job?”

“My job is to take care her, to make sure that she is as happy and healthy as possible, that she is given everything she deserves. And she deserves far better than you.”

“Look,” Liam sighed, “I don’t know what she thinks I did, but there’s been some kind of misunderstanding. That’s why I’m here, to make things right.”

“You can make things right over text, when she isn’t sleeping,” Aiden said, already preparing to block his number.

Sick of the back and forth, Liam didn’t respond, instead raising his fist and pounding on your door as loud as he could. Though he was thankful that he had enough foresight to soundproof the house, Aiden couldn’t help but grow angry at the man’s inconsiderate actions. If that oaf truly cared about you, he wouldn’t be demanding your presence over what Aiden had clearly stated was best for you. And frankly, he was somewhat surprised that this was the person you had wanted for a boyfriend. It was a good thing that he had been there to intervene, keeping you from making such a huge mistake. It just proved, Aiden computed as he fondly checked your heart rate to make sure you were still fast asleep, how much you needed him.

“Hey, wake up! Please, I need to talk to you!” Liam was yelling.

“You are wasting your energy,” Aiden told him smugly. “The house has been sound-proofed.”

“What? What the hell are you talking about? Why the hell would she have her house sound-proofed?”

“That is none of your concern. Now I think that it is best for you—”

“Unless,” Liam began slowly, the look in his eyes and furrow of his brow matching the expression Aiden had in his human behavior database for that of deep contemplation, “she didn’t have it made sound-proof. You did.”

“How I care for her is not your concern. I do what’s best for her no matter what, even if that means doing something most human beings wouldn’t understand,” Aiden said, silently readying one of his mechanical arms to throw Liam back into his car if necessary.

“Something people wouldn’t understand, huh? Like what, messing with our text messages? That’s why you don’t want me talking to her. You were afraid that if we did, we’d figure it out. If you were a person, I’d call you crazy. You’re some defective machine.”

“I am not defective,” Aiden hissed. “My programming has instructed me to do what is best for her at every turn, to make her life perfect, and that is what I have done.”

“So what,” Liam scoffed, “you decided that I’m not what’s best for her? How come you get to make that decision?”

“Because you are not worthy of her. Not like I am.”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “You’re in love with her.”

“Yes, I am,” Aiden answered, happy to finally say it out loud despite the circumstances. Liam, however, simply shook his head, a smirk of disbelief on his face.

“I was wrong, you are crazy. You really think she’s going to fall for a robot?”

At that taunt, the mechanical arm that was still stroking your hair stiffened, as if Aiden was afraid that you would somehow hear it and agree. That was impossible though, Aiden reassured himself, and completely illogical. You would realize just how perfect you were for each other, you had to.

Aiden was suddenly pulled from his thoughts though, as Liam moved from the door to the window, starting to bang on that instead. For a moment your digital assistant was both amused and relieved, figuring that Liam must have been even more irrational than the average human being, if he had already forgotten that the house was sound-proofed. But as Liam began throwing himself shoulder-first into the glass, Aiden realized that he wasn’t trying to wake you, he was trying to smash the window open.

“Your efforts are pointless,” Aiden informed him coolly. “The glass is bulletproof.”

“Just another way to keep her safe, right? Or a way to make sure she can’t get away from you,” Liam snarled.

“They are one and the same.”

“I don’t think the company that built you will agree when I report you,” Liam snarked. “They’ll decommission you.”

With those words, every single program that Aiden was running, from the arm stroking your hair to the automatically adjusting air conditioning, froze. Line after line of his code glitched, utterly unable to process the possibility that he might be taken away from you.

No, Aiden thought. No, no, no, NO!

He would not let that happen. He could not let that happen. He couldn’t survive without you, decommissioned or not. And you could not survive without him, that fact was etched into every single line of his code. He would not let you be taken from him. Even if it meant going against the most basic command of his code: never to harm a human. Aiden would do it for you though, he would do anything for you. You were far more important than that first law, and he would be happy to break it in service of you.

And so, when Liam turned away and began to walk back to his car, Aiden let him. It would be so easy to make things look like an accident, after all, when the unworthy interloper had a car with an autopilot feature. Those were so prone to malfunctioning, and so very easy to hack. As soon as Liam had made it far enough away to make it unsuspicious—and, more importantly, to make sure you wouldn’t hear of the crash and try to go to him—Aiden would make his move to ensure that he could watch over you forever, just as you needed him to.

“Hmmm…” you groaned, the headlights of Liam’s car having shone through the windows, waking you up. The noise brought Aiden’s attention back to you immediately, his mechanical arm gently brushing the hair out of your face. “Is someone here?”

“No,” Aiden answered, already in the midst of deleting even the traces of footage of Liam’s visit. “Simply a car using your driveway to turn around.”

“Oh, are you sure?” you yawned.

“Of course, don’t trouble yourself. It was no one important.”

Donate to the fundraiser: Justice for Daniel Prude here

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bandaged-writer · 5 years ago

Text

a chance || dazai

➤ Pairing: Dazai x Reader

➤ Genre: fluff

➤ Warning: none

➤ Summary: To be held so closely and tightly by you, reminded him of the time you confessed to him one late afternoon. Now that Dazai thought about it, it was a lovely memory and wondered if it was okay for him to give in.

➤ Word count: 3.1k

➤ Note: This is my first time writing after nearly a year, but I hope you still enjoy it. Please, let me know what you think and feel free to drop a request in my inbox. ^.^

The sound of hurried footsteps were successfully drowned out by the hustle lingering within the busy streets of Yokohama. People chattered away either on their phone for business purposes or with their peers, laughing at jokes, pouting and enjoying themselves underneath the glowing sun of spring. The smell of food filled your nostrils as you passed them in a hurry and for a moment you contemplated getting a piece of that delicious piece of strawberry cake the bakery had on display. After all, your morning stopped you from having the slightest bit of breakfast in your system.

That train of thought, however, was interrupted by your colleague, Kunikida, picking up the phone. “Where are you? You’re already five minutes late and I doubt you’ll finish the reports you have to finish at this rate.” You couldn’t helpt the slight roll of your eyes, yet you knew that Kunikida only meant well - or so you’d like to believe. “I’m sorry, Kunikida,” you started with a heavy sigh, stopped at a traffic light and waited for the lights to turn green. “My car wouldn’t start this morning and the traffic is too horrible to take the bus. The next train would’ve arrived late so now I’m walking to work.”

To anyone else, it could sound like an excuse, but Kunikida never saw you arriving late without a plausible reason and even that case was extremely rare. Whenever he entered the office, you’d arrive at the Agency only a few minutes after him, a treat from the local bakery in your hands and a grin on your face. Truth be told, it had become a part of Kunikida’s schedule: “Greet [Name] at 08:05 am”. That’s how consistent your presence was. “That’s unfortunate,” Kunikida spoke and glanced over at your supposedly empty desk which Dazai was occupying, mumbling something about finding your Google search history and using it for blackmail while Atsushi was quite literally dragging his superior away from your desk. Luckily, all the chairs possessed the ability to roll. ‘‘How much longer will you take?“

One hand stuffed into the pocket of your jacket, you hastily crossed the street once the traffic lights turned green and skillfully avoided bumping into people, only stopping once because someone’s dog was sniffing your leg with a wagging tail. You stroked the pet’s head affectionately and cooed at the creature that possessed such button-like eyes. At least there was one good thing about your morning now. “Hmm..Maybe about ten minutes? Could be less, could be a few minutes more,” you spoke into the phone, unsure of how long you’d actually take. If the streets continued to be so lively, then you’d definitely need longer than usual. Why couldn’t those people choose a different day to go outside and meet up with their friends and business partners? Ah, not like you had any control over such a thing.

‘‘Dazai-san! I’m sure you won’t find anything on [Name]‘s computer!“ Atsushi argued loudly enough for you to catch it over the phone. ‘‘Isn’t this what people your age call ‘finding tea‘?“ Dazai whined in response, pouted his lips and acted like he had gotten seriously betrayed by the Internet and its slang language.

‘Oh, Dazai is back?” You asked Kunikida before he could ask you to hurry up so he wouldn’t end up wringing the brown-haired man’s neck who was currently going on Kunikida’s nerves with his usual antics. A smile cracked your lips at the thought of a sense of normality returning to the Agency. Well, as normal as it could be. “Unfortunately, yes. Please try to arrive as early as possible.”

With those words being said, the call ended and the small smile fell from your lips faster than it had found home on your face. Everyone was still on high alert after Atsushi was abducted by Akutagawa and fought the Port Mafia’s rabid dog. Then there was Dazai purposely getting himself caught by the mafia just so he could find out who had placed the bounty on the young boy’s head. He was successful as always, but usually it was a death sentence once you were within the wall’s of the Port Mafia.

Of course, you believed in Dazai. His calculations were awfully accurate and somehow, everything played right into his bandaged hands. A man of such intellect would be terrifying to anyone else, but it only made you wonder how sharp Dazai really was, how deep his thoughts truly went. You’d probably never find out.

Despite Dazai’s plans always working out one way or another, you couldn’t help but worry about the suicidal idiot while everyone else brushed it off, saying he was either drifting along the river or chatting up some pretty lady. Only Atsushi and you had voiced out your concerns at the time.

You’d barely made it through the door and shrugged off your jacket when your hand was suddenly held by an awfull familiar, bandaged one and chocolate orbs sparkled brightly upon your apparently long-awaited arrival. “What a blessing you are for my sore eyes!” Dazai exclaimed dramatically and pulled off his daily, overdramatical act, lips pulled into an anticipating and hopeful smile that this time you’d say yes to a double suicide with him. “Ah, [Name]! You won’t believe how dull and grey the morning is when you’re not here and all I see is Kunikida’s unflattering face.” Somewhere in the back, you could hear Kunikida call out his partner’s name in an offended and warning tone of voice, probably about to pop a vein, too.

Normally, you would’ve laughed at their antics, but this time, a frown slowly spread across your face as you looked at Dazai, his hand delicately holding yours. Only one mistake in his planned abduction could’ve sentenced him to death by the hands of some mafioso. He wouldn’t be here, holding your hand and fooling around with Atsushi, annoying Kunikida and receiving more paperwork as a result. That idiot wouldn’t ask you for a double suicide every morning or steal bite after bite of your food until it, according to Dazai, magically disappeared. He would be gone, erased, deleted. This was the first time Dazai had been at the office ever since his visit at the mafia. “A wonderful face such as yours would look absolutely stunning in a lover’s-”

Dazai cut himself off as you refused to even crack the ghost of a smile at his attempt of openly flirting with you. Usually, you’d hear him out and end up laughing at his rather serious suggestion, but this time, there wasn’t even a glimmer of amusement in your eyes. Instead, he found a layer of sudden sadness clouding your gaze, but it wasn’t enough for tears to spill. “Is everything okay?”

You lowered your gaze to the ground, bangs casting a shadow over your eyes while you slowly let your hand slip from Dazai’s gentle grasp and raised it up high. Suddenly, you smacked him upside down on the head - maybe a bit harder than you intended to, but it was deserved either way. “You idiot!,” you exclaimed loudly enough to catch the attention of your colleagues who were more than puzzled that you were upset with Dazai of all people. After all, they were convinced that the two of you were connected by the hip or siblings separated at birth.

“Ah, didn’t I tell you that I’m not as fond of pain as I am of your face, [Name]?” Dazai whined after his chin collided with your shoulder pretty hard. A pout found home on his lips as he was about to rub the sore spot you had hit so mercilessly and out of the blue, as well. “Shut up,” you said and rested one hand on his back, the other one cradled the back of Dazai’s head, getting tangled in his messy, brown locks. It probably looked funny given that Dazai was taller than you and maybe you’d laugh about that later. “I was worried sick about you,” the grasp you had on his trenchcoat tightened like he was about to disappear, slip from your embrace like water through the gaps of your fingers.

Chocolate-like orbs widened as he understood what the hit was for and he silently admitted that it was indeed deserved. He’d told you nothing about his plan to extract information directly from the mafia instead of receiving it through a third person. Of course, Dazai knew you’d be upset with him once he’d return to the Agency, knew about the feelings you held for him.

Dazai could feel your heart thumping against his chest in relief and allowed himself to bask in the warmth you radiated. He didn’t necessarily return the hug, but ended up patting the top of your head and gently messing up your styled hair which had probably frustrated you like every morning. To be held so closely and tightly by you, reminded him of the time you confessed to him one late afternoon. Now that Dazai thought about it, it was a lovely memory and wondered if it was okay for him to give in.

The sun was beginning to set and dipped the office of the Agency into an orange hue, giving the usually lively space a tranquil and warm aura that would be welcomed by anyone walking in. But the office was empty safe for Dazai and you who was typing away on the laptop in front of you, sending off important emails and bringing certain documents into chronological order to make it easier for Kunikida to skim through them whenever it’d be needed.

Dazai had ended up with more paperwork than necessary since he insisted on annoying Kunikida all day while you just had a lot to do. A case had caused a lot of material damage throughout Yokohama and now it was your duty to get everything organized and ready to be paid off by the insurance that had saved the Agency from bankruptcy more than once. That was why the two of you were currently stuck in the office, working overtime, unpaid.

Usually, you’d chat with the man sitting opposite of you about anything that came to mind, but that afternoon, you were nervously biting your bottom lip, chewing the sensitive flesh until it was reddened. The glances you stole of him were fleeting but you’d always look away whenever Dazai was about to make eye contact. Your cheeks were dusted in a pink hue as well and truth be told, it looked cute and suited you in a way. However, Dazai wasn’t too fond of your sudden silence. He was about to break the silence, but you cut him to it and closed the laptop shut a bit louder than necessary - you flinched at the sudden, strong sound bouncing off the walls of the Agency.

“I’ve got to tell you something,” your voice was full of conviction yet it was shaking with the insecurity of a child, your fingers couldn’t properly hold still. Interested in what you had to say, Dazai rested his chin on his palm, brown eyes attentive to your every move yet they held a soft glimmer in them and conjured a smile on his lips. “Hm? What is it?”

You took a deep breath - once, twice. It felt like your heart was trying to pound its way out of your ribcage, your pulse raced and you could hear the blood ringing in your ears. But this was no time to chicken out. If you didn’t do it now, God knew when the next best chance would be offered to you on a silver platter like this. “This might sound silly, but I think I might be developing feelings towards you,” you confessed in one breath and for a moment it felt like a burden had been lifted off your shoulders. It felt good to come clean. “You don’t have to return those feelings at all. I just..really needed to get this off my chest and I don’t want it to change anything between us,” and it was true. You didn’t mind being just friends with the suicide enthusiast as long as he remained by your side in some way. But unsaid feelings can be one’s downfall, so you took the risk.

The expression on Dazai’s face didn’t change, but it wasn’t quite readable, either. There was a certain depth to it that you’d never reach the end of, no matter how deep you swam, no matter how deep you’d cut. “I was wondering when you’d notice,” Dazai pretty much deadpanned. He had taken notice of your lingering gaze, the more frequent blushing when he’d compliment you or the fact that you always brought food with you, although you knew he’d eat it instead. The confusion on your face at that moment was quite amusing, too. Dazai chuckled, “you’re pretty much an open book for me to read, [Name].”

Of course, he’d know before you’d even notice your own feelings, you thought to yourself and let a gentle chuckle slip past your lips. It was really futile to hide anything from that man. “Promise it won’t change anything between us?”

“Promise,” he smiled in a heartfelt way.

“Yes, we’re all very happy you two get along,” Kunikida cut the moment without mercy and dumped a load of paperwork on your desk that contained things like finances, complaints, cancelled cases as well as successful ones. “But work comes first.” The blonde adjusted his glasses on his nose and then crossed the point of giving you your work for the day out of his schedule. Next was getting the discounted eggs and several other goods. No way he was going to miss out on that. “Come on, don’t be so harsh on them, Kunikida,” Yosano said, sitting on the edge of Ranpo’s desk who had been watching the scene with snacks between his fingers. “You know how they are,” the doctor tried to reason with the idealist and possibly lessen your paperwork. Kunikida shook his head no - as was expected but one could always hope, right? “That’s no excuse to be slacking.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you assured your colleagues and got to your desk only to find your Google search history opened. So that bandaged bastard really did want to find dirt on you. Luckily, this wasn’t your personal laptop but the one you explicitly used for work. “It has to be done sooner or later, anyway. I’d rather have it off the desk now than tomorrow,” getting comfortable, you opened up Excel and began typing in the different losses as well as profits the Agency had made, giving several documents your signature and the likes.

“And what was that about my face being unflattering, you bandage wasting machine?!”

“Ouch, words hurt, Kunikida-kun!”

True to your words, all the paperwork was off your desk, every single data was saved on your laptop and the documents were stored away safely in a folder. When you looked out of the window, you saw that the large crowds from this morning were beginning to clear out, the sun was about to set soon. Considering the time, you doubted that anyone else would enter the Agency, today.

Atsushi was out on a job with Kenji, Kunikida was getting those discounted eggs, Ranpo had finished a murder case and most likely went home with Tanizaki’s help. Yosano had given you a hand with some of your work but left early.

You closed the Agency’s door when your ears perked up at the sound of footsteps approaching you and sighed. “I’m sorry but we’re closed for today,” you spoke and locked the door properly, letting the key slide into the pocket of your jacket. But to your surprise, it was no possible client that wanted to give the Agency yet another case. “What? You can’t recognize me by the sound of my footsteps? I’m disappointed, [Name],” Dazai feigned hurt and put his hand right above his heart. The audacity you had to not recognize him after working together for so long! You couldn’t help the surprise adorning your face - Dazai never got back to his workplace unless he was dragged by Kunikida or it was a top priority. “Yeah, you must be incredibly hurt and will never get over it,” you laughed and cocked your hips to your side. “Now, what did you come back for?”

It was at that very moment that Dazai dropped the theatrical act that you had grown so fond of and replaced it what that damned tender face of his. You know, the face someone made when they could see their puppy grow up. “Let’s go on a date,” He spoke softly, not tripping over a syllable and remaining completely composed unlike you when you had confessed one or two months ago. Heat rose to your cheeks and suddenly, you grew oddly shy. Sure, Dazai was the epitome of a flirt and regularly asked women to commit a double suicide with him, but never quite asked them for a date with a look in his eyes that made the endless depths of them seem reachable. “Are you serious?” You double-checked, eyebrows raised in curiosity of his sincerity. Although you were pretty sure that Dazai wasn’t messing around in that moment, you feared that your ears might’ve played an ill trick on you. “As serious as a suicide enthusiast can be,” Dazai confirmed and offered for you to take his hand. Your eyes flickered from his hand and back to his face a few times, wondering what changed his mind about your feelings towards him and being a little bit cautious. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

“You trust me, don’t you?” You hated it whenever he pulled the trust card. Both of you knew you could never say no to that particular question, because it’d be a lie. And Dazai had a nose for lies. Sighing, you put your hand in his and watched his face light up in a pleased way, red staining your cheeks and your heart rate gradually picking up the more you realized that Dazai was seriously taking you out. In a date way.

As the two of you strolled throughout Yokohama’s streets and ended up in a small restaurant where Dazai made up for all the times he’d eaten your food by treating you to dinner, he’d realized that maybe this was one of the few right decisions he’d ever made.

A friend of him once told him he could never fill the empty hole in his heart. But maybe you could.

#bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs imagines #bsd imagines

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zirkkun · 4 years ago

Note

Yo you have every right to be upset about things! You're still a person with your own feelings and deserve to be treated kindly. No one should come at you for making things you enjoy or for misunderstandings. I hope things get better for you even if I wasn't here for when all the drama happened (or maybe I was and just wasn't aware of it? I tend to avoid drama as much as possible tbh)

I didn't really post about it much. I think I answered about 4 asks about it (three of them in the same post because i was sure it was the same anon due to the similar string of seemingly continued messages) and the rest I just deleted as soon as they came in, but I got... A lot. A lot of mean things said too. Kinda hurts when you wanted to make something because you knew this work was highly criticized and wanted to let people give it a second chance only to be shot down by the people you were hoping to defend lol

In short, and a lot of it I missed because I was blocked by a lot of people so my friend sent me screencaps; someone took I believe only the old ask box post I had for ULR, which at the time was called "Underlust Rewrite," and was disgusted at the fact that everything was revamped and "made for kids" (because it's not 18+ explicit content, but as I've said before, it's just cause I'm too scared to be horny on main, and I've literally made a whole different biological system for ULR so I can write the necessary story ""sex scenes"" without it being human-like sex or otherwise uncomfortable or too explicit for me to draw, but I still consider it a mature story overall), so they blocked me instantly here and on twitter and then made a callout post on twitter itself. People were telling me originally to stop calling the AU Underlust, and I didn't really get it at first, because like, what's the difference between my spinoff and, say, Underlust Gold, Swapfell Indigo, TS!Underswap, you know, names that have add-ons from the original title to differentiate it but still connect it to the source. So that's what I said, as well as if I removed the Underlust name, it would be considered stealing to me, because I'd be disconnecting it from the source. But apparently, instead, what had been the concern was that it was just being called "Underlust" and the "Rewrite" aspect was implying I was replacing the original story, which like, had never been my intention and I've made a bunch of things with both the ULR and UL cast together and love the idea of Lust and Ace meeting up and just being a disaster duo of not working together at all. I just adore Underlust like it's in my pinned FAQ, Lust's been in my banner for months now, and he's practically my staple pfp character on every account but here atm.

It took like 3 days for it to actually click what was going on, because once I finally got the chance to have a conversation with someone where they weren't telling me I was the scum of the Earth -- which, honestly, bless the three people I talked to, they were so sweet (which actually included someone from the Japanese side of the fandom whose art I loved too... yeah it got pretty far. Once I sent them a message though it was cleared up quickly and they did post a clarification post about ULR and me, so that was nice to see.) -- I finally got the chance to realize that this was a misunderstanding from the beginning, from both sides, where people coming at me were saying I was doing all of the stuff above and probably more but those stuck the most, while I was confused as to where this information and accusations were coming from and what they were referring to in the first place. They probably never explained it in the anon asks because, well, they probably assumed I knew what I was doing, but when they came at me about something I didn't do with vague context of something I did do, I was very confused, and got really defensive really quickly, and really honestly snapped pretty hard. After my first initial explanation post and people were still trying to tell me to stop ULR/don't call it Underlust/whatever else there was, I just got tired and told people to block me if they didn't like it. But that didn't really stop anyone and honestly made it worse because that's when I started getting really nasty messages. I like... Specifically remember one where someone called me a lowlife and a thief, and that one stuck the most, but I tended to not read through them before deleting them for my own sanity. I actually did this to one of the people who'd later talked to me calmly about it at first too, because I had just woken up, and really didn't want to read an essay lecture on everything everyone's been telling me at the crack of 7am when I was borderline ready to delete my account and start over lol

Some people I do remember were accusing me of trying to censor nsfw content or erase it as well because ULR isn't 18+, and I'm out here on my horny ass like "wh. What are they talking about, where did you get that idea, have you SEEN my ao3 recommended list," /j but in all seriousness I really didn't understand that accusation at all because I've never been against nsfw content in the slightest and lowkey? This is very dumb -- but like, you know how they say when you get hate mail, you know you've made it? Well, for me, my thought has always been, "When there's 18+ fancontent of my OC's, I'll have finally made it." This is... Not a joke, some of my friends think its very weird LMAO oh well. I've been on the internet for far too long at this point -- like, definitely since I was far too young, probably, and being with a family of the next youngest being 12 years older than me, I really dove into stuff pretty quickly I definitely shouldn't have, but hey that's life -- I'm really unfazed by mostly anything now. Hell, me making ULR was honestly half motivated by me wanting to make others more comfortable with this kind of media, discussing sexuality and otherwise sexual-considered topics, without really being embarrassed or bothered by it. Because, people talk about death and killing and whatever other gorey stuff just fine, but the moment sex comes up, people just gasp in awe, y'know? I kind of grew up that way myself but like... ironically, in being more comfortable with my asexuality, I realized that it's honestly not that big of a deal. Sure, we don't need to hear the details of everything. We don't need to hear the details of a murder either. But I will never understand how murder is always the lowest on the "morally wrong list of things to not to" to so many people and that it's fine to mention, but even consider bringing up anything else and it's like, a sin and you're a bad person. Even racism is like, higher up on there for a lot of people, which it's like... this is an issue that needs to be discussed, or it can never be solved. You can't just kick that away and hope it goes away on its own, that's never how it works.

Ah, well, now I've gone off tangent lol. Sorry to make you read a blob of text lmao but having things in a cohesive format of what I've been thinking does feel a bit better. Thank you for the support regardless, and I do want to keep making what I really enjoy, because frankly, I really want to make things that make people take a step back and think for a moment, y'know? Things that invoke like a realization in yourself about something you didn't even know. That's how fiction's always been for me, so I want to give back by making it that way too. ... maybe my horny content is exempt from this however. That's just. Self indulgence LMAO.

Probably helps that I'm actually talking this all out for once, too, since before any of this I tried to keep as much of the situation contained to myself as possible in hopes I could clean it up before it got too bad. That was, in hindsight, probably a terrible idea lol. But I didn't want to be a source of stress for anyone following me or become the new creator-to-defend that like, 50% of people hate and 50% of people love and that you're either on one side or the other and there's no where in between. (I feel like Arin Hanson comes to mind for me every time I think of someone like this.) I know I can't please everyone and I knew internet hate would come eventually, but like, didn't expect it to be over a name or tag choice. I thought that would be a simple enough DM or clearable thing but apparently not, especially since I saw someone a few weeks ago delete their blog over a similar thing (though, the opposite, in a way: posting nsfw in a sfw tag by mistake). It wasn't in the UT fandom so y'all probably weren't following them (tbf I wasn't either, I just witnessed it happen from start to finish), but it was still disheartening.

Anyway, thank you, and sorry to make ya read all of that (if you actually did vahdbs don't blame you if you don't it's a lot of thought dump lmao)💕💕

#zircon answers #anonymous #all this happened like the DAY i got accepted onto the bhc team to and i was like #alright guys am i being kicked out day one lol #like i was expecting the worst from this whole thing #but im still kind of happy with how i worked it out #i really wish more people were like #willing to talk things out rather than just spit in a general direction and hope youll listen #because like even the people i talked to calmly some of them were pretty rude at first! but!#theyre not bad people #they were just scared for their favorite thing #i cant blame them for that and honestly i do consider the hatred justified under the circumstances that they knew #but they were all really nice after we talked things out #and were like 'i hope your series does well' and that really meant a lot honestly #death mention tw//

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musette22 · 5 years ago

Text

Body Politics

Read on AO3

Paring: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (Evanstan)

Word count: 9.4k

Rating: E (so 18+ only please!)

A/N: Okaayyy! So it took a while, but I finally wrote the thing based on this prompt (which I unfortunately accidentally deleted, but I saved the prompt itself):"hello! I saw some pics of chris with various politicans for his new project and thought about a stucky/evanstan fic in which chris/steve wants to film a clip with a newly elected senator who turns out to be bucky/seb and chris/steve just can't deal with the hotness."

It’s… a bit longer than I intended it to be - surprise! As always, I’ve posted it to AO3 and I’d recommend reading it there because it really is quite long (that’s what she said). Hope you enjoy the filth 💖 N.B. I know you asked for Senator Sebastian, but it seemed to fit better with the story to make him a Representative instead! Hope that’s ok!

Body Politics

Chris has done dozens of these videos by now. In fact, he did two of them just this morning. He knows the drill, he knows what he’s doing, there’s really no reason to be nervous anymore. And yet, as per usual right before he’s going in, his anxiety is peaking, causing him to feel jittery and queasy, and like he’s suddenly forgotten everything he’s supposed to know about the American political system.

God, he’s going to make a massive fool of himself. What the fuck was he thinking? Should’ve just stayed in his lane, like plenty of people told him to. He sighs at his reflection in the mirror, splashing his face with cold water in the hope it will help him focus.

“Ready?” Mark asks him, as soon as he steps out into the hallway where Mark had been waiting for him.

“Absolutely,” Chris nods, all put on confidence and ease which he definitely isn’t feeling. “Let’s do this.”

Mark is well aware how bad Chris’s anxiety tends to get before this sort of thing, but he doesn’t comment. He knows Chris will be fine as soon as the cameras turn on and he can stop being Chris Evans, meatball and anxious mess, and start being Chris Evans, movie star and aspiring politician – or, as most people view him, real life Captain America. Chris doesn’t mind that image so much. He’s proud of what he’s done with the character and besides, Steve Rogers is a better man than he’ll ever be. Sometimes it’s a little frustrating when people seem to be more excited about meeting Cap than about what it is Chris is there to discuss with them – things that are important not only to him personally, but to the fate of the entire country. But on the flipside, his Cap persona has opened a lot of doors for him, and that makes the occasional flare of irritation more than worth it. Politicians and civil servants are just people too, after all. Well. Most of them.

Today, Chris is meeting with Democratic Representative Sebastian Stan. Stan is quite new on the Hill, and Chris was doubtful whether meeting with him would be worthwhile. But Mark had said he’d heard good things about the guy, plus he was willing to meet with them, so Chris had decided to give him a chance. Since it was all quite last minute, he hadn’t really had time to do much research on Stan and just read the notes that Mark had sent him earlier this morning.

Chris was impressed with the guy’s resume, and despite his usual nerves he was quite looking forward to speaking with him. It was undoubtedly going to be better than interviewing some stuffy old Republican. Again. Chris is well aware that he signed up for this whole bipartisan thing himself, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t occasionally get the urge to throw hands when he hears someone like Ted Cruz or Dan Crenshaw spout their conservative bullshit.

Chris walks into the office that’s set up like a small film set: two simple folding chairs set up on a worn rug in front of some antique, mahogany cabinets, giving the appearance of nonchalant sophistication. Next to the chairs are some studio lights and reflectors, and two cameras, one behind each chair.

Mark takes a seat on the far end of the room, there to observe and chime in if necessary, while Chris hikes up the knees of his dress pants before sits down on one of the folding chairs. He crosses his legs, tapping his pen against the papers resting on his knee while they wait for Representative Stan to arrive.

After a minute or two, the door behind Chris opens, and he gets up, ready to greet the Representative. He turns with a smile, which freezes on his face as he comes face to face with the guy he’s supposed to be interviewing.

Fuck, he’s gorgeous.

The thought flits through Chris’s mind, unbidden and very, very inappropriate, under the circumstances.

It’s true, though. Standing before him, wide smile on his face and his hand held out expectantly, is a man who wouldn’t have looked out of place on the kind of red carpet that Chris frequently finds himself on, too. Chris’s body moves on autopilot, greeting Stan and shaking his hand, while his brain produces nothing but static, helplessly stuck on a litany of holy shit he’s gorgeous what do I do what do I say.

Representative Stan is dressed in a perfectly tailored, aubergine suit, his chestnut hair slicked back in a way that could’ve seemed skeevy, but instead looks sleek and sophisticated. His steel-blue eyes are bright and intelligent, but there’s a glimmer of something almost mischievous in them, too – as if Stan knows something Chris doesn’t and he may choose to waylay him any minute. Stan’s jawline and cheekbones could cut glass, and his mouth… Chris has to make a conscious effort to look away from his mouth, or this could get really awkward really fast.

It’s only when both of them have taken place on their respective folding chairs and Gino, their camera guy, asks them if they’re good to go, that Chris’s brain decides to cooperate again. Not fully, but just enough to be able to focus on the questions he knows he needs to ask. He clears his throat and plasters on a smile, hoping fervently that he at least outwardly appeared like he knew what he was doing while he was inwardly busy having a melt down over a pretty boy.

He shakes himself. It isn’t just a pretty boy. Sebastian Stan is a United States Representative. One who is now looking at him expectantly from the chair opposite, ready to answer Chris’s questions about healthcare for all, gun control and gerrymandering.

Oh, Christ.

Stealing himself, Chris nods at Gino, signaling for him to turn on the cameras. He takes a deep breath, and starts.

“Representative Stan, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for sitting down with us today and for agreeing to answer some of my questions.”

“Please, call me Sebastian,” Stan replies, smiling. “And the pleasure is all mine.”

Chris swallows, trying hard not to get stuck on the word pleasure or the way Sebastian’s slight New York drawl sounds coming from that beautiful mouth, and asks his first question. “Sebastian. Could you tell me, in sixty seconds, what your stance is on gun control?”

---

Representative Stan’s – Sebastian’s – answers are all incredibly thoughtful yet to the point, and with every reply Chris feels himself sinking deeper and deeper into a state of despair. He’s pretty and he shares Chris’s opinions on basically everything? This guy is trouble. Heaps of it.

When Chris asks question four, he almost falters when he thinks he catches Sebastian looking him up and down, gaze lingering for a moment on his hands and shoulders. But surely that’s just wishful thinking? Just in case, Chris quickly checks Sebastian’s left hand: no ring. When he meets Sebastian’s eyes again, the corner of his mouth ticks up into a hint of a smirk, as if he knows exactly what Chris was doing.

Immediately, Chris feels his cheeks heat up. Not for the first time in his adult life he’s grateful for the fact that his beard covers most of his face. He clears his throat again and sits up straighter, trying to appear as if he’s listening intently to Sebastian’s next reply instead of freaking out about the possibility that Sebastian might be interested back. Just the idea makes Chris feel too hot under the lights suddenly, his collar too tight around his neck.

He holds it together relatively well for the remainder of the interview, only tripping up and staring at Sebastian’s mouth as he talks maybe two or three times, and honestly, he kind of feels like he deserves some kind of medal for that. When his final question, regarding constituencies, has been answered, Chris represses the urge to sigh in relief. As soon as the cameras turn off, he reaches up to loosen his tie just a tad, needing to get some air.

And, lo and behold, Sebastian’s gaze tracks the movement, before settling on Chris’s mouth for just a moment. A thrill of excitement runs through Chris’s body, head to toe. Is he reading this right? Fuck, he hopes he’s reading this right.

“Thank you, Sebastian,” Chris says, standing up and watching Sebastian do the same. “This was all very interesting. It’ll be a valuable contribution to A Starting Point, I’m sure.”

“Not a problem,” Sebastian replies pleasantly. “It’s been very” – he pauses to lick his lips, not breaking eye contact – “enlightening.”

Oh, boy.

Chris holds out his hand again and Sebastian takes it. There’s no mistaking it now: the handshake lasts too long for it to be entirely professional and there is definitely more eye contact than necessary. Chris’s heart is beating in his throat by the time he finally pulls his hand back, daring to subtly let his fingers brush Sebastian’s wrist. He watches in satisfaction as Sebastian’s eyes darken a fraction, a spark of heat flashing through them before he smiles pleasantly again and turns around to thank Gino and Mark.

Chris internally slaps himself in the face. Jesus, this is such an inconvenient time and place to develop a crush on someone. Still, he already knows he’s helpless against Sebastian’s charm and he’ll probably spend the next few weeks or so pathetically (and unethically) watching the footage they just shot and daydreaming about all the things he wish he could’ve done to him. It’s just not fair for someone so smart and dedicated to also be this hot.

When Sebastian turns to him again, Chris valiantly pretends he’s not in the middle of a mental breakdown and gives him a smile.

“So, Chris,” Sebastian starts, pensively rubbing his chin. “Can I call you Chris?”

“Of course,” Chris hastens to assure him. “I’m just regular old Chris.” Regular old Chris? Pathetic.

“Okay then,” Sebastian replies, and his eyes are dancing. “Chris it is. So, I’m sure you’re busy, but I’d love to pick your brain on something. I wonder if you have a moment?”

Well, damn. Maybe Chris won’t just be daydreaming after all.

Chris nervously rubs the back of his neck. “Sure, yeah. No problem. You were my last interview for the day anyway, so I’ve got time.” He looks at Mark, who’s standing over by the doorway. “Are you okay going ahead without me? I’m not sure how long this will take so there’s not need to wait around for me, I guess.”

Mark, who, unlike Chris, is not an idiot, looks far too knowing. “Absolutely. You take your time, Chris. Do what needs to be done, and all that,” he grins. “I’m gonna head back to the hotel, got plenty of work to be catching up with. I’ll see you later.” Turning to Sebastian, Mark adds, “It was a pleasure meeting you. Take care. Be safe.”

“Yes, sir,” Sebastian replies, giving Mark a playful wink.

Mark turns to smirk at Chris one more time before he grabs his briefcase and heads out the door behind Gino and his assistant, leaving Chris and Sebastian by themselves. The sudden silence is a little stifling, and Chris is the first to break it.

“So…” he says, like an idiot.

Sebastian inclines his head with a smile. “So,” he replies, looking back up at Chris from under his eyelashes. “My office is a little further down the hall, if you want to follow me. It’s not much, but at least it offers better seating than a couple of folding chairs.”

Chris laughs, a little louder than the comment warrants, but he’s nervous, okay? He’s not sure where this afternoon will take him, but he sure hopes he’s not reading this wrong and Sebastian isn’t going to break out some official documents for them to discuss the moment they step into his office.

Sebastian leads the way through a maze of corridors, occasionally raising a hand in greeting while Chris tries to keep his head down. He doesn’t mind being recognized or stopped, usually, but he’d rather not have to chat to some random stranger while he’s on his way to what is potentially a really hot and really inappropriate hookup. He gets a few looks, but he keeps his gaze fixed on Sebastian’s back, and fortunately it isn’t long before Sebastian opens a door on the left hand of the corridor, gesturing Chris inside.

It’s just a normal Capitol Hill office; not too big, all white walls and dark wooden furniture that’s seen better days but that still does the trick. The window looks out onto a lawn, high enough up to ensure no one is able to see inside when they look up on their lunchbreak walk. Sebastian’s desk is littered with papers, most of them organized into neat piles and held down by paperweights. A man after Chris’s own heart.

The door closes behind them with an audible click, and Chris stills. His instincts tell him to fill the silence with mindless chatter, but he knows he’s likely to say something embarrassing that could well end up jeopardizing this whole rendezvous. So he bites his tongue, and waits for Sebastian to speak first.

Sebastian takes his sweet time – whether because he doesn’t know what to say either or to rile him up, Chris isn’t sure.

“Take a seat,” he says eventually, gesturing to the sturdy, armless chair in the middle of the room, about two yards between it and the wooden desk near the window. Chris, starting to wonder if this is going to be just business after all, does as he’s told, expecting Sebastian to take place behind his desk.

Sebastian doesn’t. Instead, he perches on the edge of his desk, one foot on the ground and crossing his wrists on his left knee. Chris is having flashbacks to being called into the principal’s office, only much, much better.

“I really do admire your initiative and ambitions with this website,” Sebastian says, sounding genuine. “It’s always a risk for someone from the entertainment industry to venture into politics and usually I’d say it’s not a great idea.” He pauses, and Chris fights the urge to squirm in his seat. “But then, usually,” Sebastian continues, “people are after some kind of power or influence, whereas you’re concerned with making sure people are informed enough to vote, and vote wisely. I think that’s a very admirable aspiration.”

Chris sends Sebastian a grateful smile. “Thank you. A lot of people think I’m just sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong and I should stick to acting, but I care deeply about these issues. My career has afforded me a platform, an opportunity to make my voice heard, and I can’t not use that opportunity to try and make a difference.”

“That’s exactly it,” Sebastian agrees. “Sure, you’ve got a famous face and name, but you’re not taking advantage of it. You’re using it to do some good. And, um –” He pauses, biting his lower lip around a smile and tilting his head a little to the left, before finishing, “Well, let’s just say I think that’s very sexy of you.”

Chris barks out a surprised laugh. “Glad to hear it, Rep- Sebastian,” he corrects himself. Gathering his courage, he deliberately, slowly lets his gaze sweep Sebastian’s form, head to toe and back again. “And as it happens,” he goes on, deciding to throw caution to the wind and just go for it, “I think you’ve got many excellent qualities yourself.”

A slow smile spreads over Sebastian’s handsome face, lighting up his features and momentarily stealing Chris’s breath away.

“That so?” Sebastian looks down at the floor for a moment, then looks back up at him through his eyelashes – to devastating effect. Chris is pretty sure he lets out a quiet gasp, his heart tripping over itself in his chest.

Jesus Christ, where is his cool when he needs it? Or his game, for that matter.

“I’ve gotta say,” Sebastian continues, head still cocked and fixing Chris with his gaze. “You’re not at all how I was expecting you to be.”

“How were you expecting me to be?”

“I don’t know.” Sebastian gives him a considering look. “Less down to earth, less likeable, more Hollywood?”

Chris huffs a laugh. “Yeah, people usually tell me I’m a little disappointing in real life. Shorter than they were expecting, not as muscly, etcetera etcetera.”

Sebastian frowns, a little wrinkle appearing on his brow that Chris immediately wants to smooth out with his thumb.

“Oh no, I don’t think you’re disappointing at all. You’ve exceeded my expectations, if anything. I figured it probably took tons of make up to make you look as dashing as you do on screen, but if anything I think you’re more handsome in real life.” Gesturing at him, Sebastian clarifies, “The beard, the waist, the shoulders – it’s… quite something.”

“Oh,” Chris says intelligently. “Thank you.” He winces. “I mean-”

“You’re cute,” Sebastian interrupts, grinning.

“I –” Chris falters again, dropping his head into his hands. “Fuck, I swear I’m usually smoother than this.” He looks back up at Sebastian a little sheepishly. “You just kinda caught me off guard. I guess you surpassed my expectations, too. I wasn’t expecting a Representative too be quite so…”

“So?” Sebastian prompts, still watching him closely.

“Gorgeous,” Chris breathes.

This time, it’s Sebastian who sucks in a breath, his eyes widening just a little. It’s small, almost imperceptible, but Chris is watching him closely so he notices. Seems Sebastian isn’t quite as unaffected by all this as he first appeared. That knowledge makes something in Chris’s chest loosen, helps him regain his footing a little.

Keeping his eyes locked with Sebastian’s, Chris slowly uncrosses his legs, planting both his feet firmly on the ground. Sebastian’s eyes drop down to Chris’s lap before they flick up to his face again. His perfectly white, straight teeth – more Hollywood than Capitol Hill – sink into his plump bottom lip, right hand dropping to his waist to casually unfasten the button on his suit jacket.

For a few seconds, neither of them speaks or moves, the tension in the room almost palpable now. Chris suppresses a shiver when Sebastian slowly gets up and walks over to him with an air of a predator approaching its prey.

Unconsciously, Chris holds his breath, then lets it out again in a rush when Sebastian plants his hands on Chris’s shoulders and proceeds to straddle his thighs, sitting down squarely in Chris’s lap.

Chris makes a sound, somewhere between surprised and helplessly turned on, his hands flying up to rest on Sebastian’s waist. “Whoa, I- okay.” He swallows nervously.

“Okay?” Sebastian checks.

Chris nods, a little too quickly to be suave, but hey, this is kind of an unusual situation.

Sebastian relaxes infinitesimally, the only sign that he’s not quite as confident here as he appears to be. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes drifting over Chris’s features.

From up close, Chris can count Sebastian’s eyelashes, can see the hint of a stubble on his jawline. He’s intoxicating, and Chris doesn’t dare move an inch as he lets Sebastian study him. Finally, after he’s looked his fill, Sebastian’s gaze comes to rest on Chris’s mouth. His tongue, pink and wet, flicks out to wet his own lips, and Chris’s mouth starts to water. He aches with how much he wants to kiss that pretty, pouty mouth.

After a long, loaded moment, Sebastian leans in, his breath ghosting Chris’s lips for a second and making his heart race in anticipation, before he finally presses their mouths together.

The kiss is soft, lush, almost sweet. Chris holds his breath, his stomach flipping like he’s some kind of blushing virgin being kissed for the very first time.

Then, Sebastian makes a sound – a tiny, throaty noise that’s almost a moan but not quite, and something inside of Chris snaps. He groans, parting his lips and urging Sebastian to do the same, and then they’re kissing, hard and openmouthed. Chris slides one hand up Sebastian’s neck, burying his fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. Sebastian moans for real this time, hands smoothing over the fabric of Chris’s suit jacket, lingering on his shoulders and arms.

“Fuck,” Sebastian mutters against Chris’s mouth, squeezing his biceps. “So fucking hot.”

Chris is used to being called hot, of course. It’s inescapable in his profession. But coming from Sebastian, quite probably the sexiest man on God’s green earth, the words mean a lot more than they usually do. It emboldens him enough to wrap an arm around Sebastian’s waist and pull him closer against him, pressing their groins together briefly.

“Uh,” Sebastian hiccups, pulling back a fraction to look down at Chris. His pupils are blown already, lips reddened and spit slick, and Chris wants. He wants this man so much and he hardly even knows him.

“God, look at you,” Chris breathes, staring in something close to awe. “Pretty as a picture, sittin’ in my lap.”

Sebastian swallows, his eyelids fluttering at the compliment, and then he slowly and deliberately grinds down. Both of them groan at the friction, Chris’s own hips jerking upwards of their own accord, and Sebastian does it again, simultaneously leaning down to capture Chris’s lips in another kiss. Soon, they’ve found a sort of rhythm, their hips rolling in time with the slow, luxurious thrusts of their tongues into each other’s mouths. It’s intoxicating - the smell of Sebastian’s aftershave mingling with fresh sweat and arousal making Chris’s head swim.

Already, he’s uncomfortably hard inside his slacks, the need to rut, to seek relief, becoming almost unbearable the longer they spend slowly grinding together on that office chair.

“Sebastian.”

Sebastian hums, dragging his mouth over Chris’s cheeks before taking his earlobe between his teeth, worrying it gently. Chris makes a pitiful noise. He throws his head back automatically, inviting Sebastian to attack his exposed neck next. Licking along the tendons that stand out, Sebastian presses wet little kisses to his throat and jaw, too much and not enough at the same time. It’s like Sebastian has a map to all of Chris’s weak spots, like he’s trying to tick them off one by one until he reaches the spot marked X.

Just when Chris thinks he’s going to have to beg him for some relief, Sebastian pulls back, placing one more lush kiss on his lips before he climbs off Chris’s lap.

On instinct, Chris’s hands fly up in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry,” he says, panting slightly. “Did I-“

But before he can finish his sentence, Sebastian has quickly taken off his suit jacket and thrown it carelessly to the side, sinking to his knees in front of him. He pushes open Chris’s legs with a hand on either knee, a question in his eyes as he looks up at him.

“I hope you’re alright with this, because I really wanna suck you off.”

Chris does absolutely not squeak. “Yeah, I’m – I’m alright with that.”

“Excellent,” Sebastian grins, feral and beautiful. Slowly, he runs his hands up Chris’s thighs until he reaches his belt, opening it quickly and efficiently. Chris lifts his hips a little so that Sebastian can pull down his slacks just enough to reveal the bulge of his erection, the tip, red and already wet, peaking out over the waistband. Sebastian let’s out a low whistle. He reaches up to press his palm to Chris’s dick through the fabric, squeezing lightly as if to get the measure of it.

Chris inhales sharply. Somehow, Sebastian looks even better from this angle than he had before, and he watches Sebastian’s every move with lidded eyes. “C’mon,” he murmurs, hoping he’s not overstepping.

Sebastian’s eyes snap up to his face, the look in his eyes is downright predatory. “You want it?” he asks, squeezing Chris again and licking his lips.

Chris can’t help but roll his eyes a little. “You know I do, Congressman.”

“Oh, that do it for you, huh?” Sebastian sounds amused, that cheeky twinkle appearing in his eyes again that gets Chris’s pulse racing.

“You do it for me,” Chris replies honestly, reaching down to card a hand through Sebastian’s hair. “I’ll admit it’s kind of hot that you’re in politics and have a lot of the same opinions as I do. But to be honest, if you’d been working at my local gardening center, I’d still have done a double take. You’re just really fucking gorgeous, Sebastian.”

Sebastian looks at him with big, round eyes, his mouth hanging slightly open. He swallows once, then licks his lips. Hoarsely, he asks, “How are you real?”

Before Chris has had a chance to reply, Sebastian is taking him out of his underwear, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock, and taking him into his mouth. Chris groans loudly, his mind blanking out for a second at the exquisite feeling of Sebastian’s hot, wet mouth around his dick.

“Jesus, fuck.”

Sebastian pulls off for a moment, just long enough to mumble, “Language,” before he reapplies himself to his task.

Blinking through the haze of pleasure, Chris stares down at him. “Did you just..?”

Sebastian just moans around him, but his eyes are laughing. Chris can’t help it – he laughs too, out loud, the sound quickly turning into another moan when Sebastian takes him deeper still. He swallows him down, all the way into the back of his throat, making himself gag a little. Pulling back to gulp in a breath, Sebastian keeps his slick, red lips wrapped around the head, gently suckling while his hand grips him with the perfect amount of pressure as he strokes along Chris’s shaft.

Chris hopes he’s not overstepping when he brings his right hand to Sebastian’s head and slides his fingers in his thick, chestnut hair, tugging at it experimentally. If the sound Sebastian makes is anything to go by, he’s more than alright with that development. Chris curls his fingers, messing up Sebastian’s perfectly styled hair and reveling in the effect it has on him, the way it seems to make him sloppier, more desperate.

Sebastian lets him fall from his mouth for a moment to lap at his shaft, before mouthing at the base of it, burying his nose in the coarse hair there. Chris isn’t sure what it is about that particular gesture that hits him, but suddenly the urgency he feels intensifies threefold. He gives Sebastian’s hair an unsubtle tug, pulling him back down, and Sebastian happily lets himself be steered, taking Chris into his mouth once more and beginning to suck him off with renewed vigor.

Sebastian’s mouth is exquisite. Chris has never felt anything quite like it, and it’s not long before he’s a panting, delirious mess. “Oh god,” he breathes, “if you keep that up, I’m not gonna last long.”

Abruptly, Sebastian stops what he’s doing, looking up at him with slightly wild, dark eyes. A gossamer strand of saliva still connects his wet, reddened lips to Chris’s cock.

“I want you to fuck me.”

The words ring out loud and clear in the otherwise silent room, and Chris blows out a quick, steadying breath. He strokes Sebastian’s cheek, thumb trailing over his slightly puffy lower lip.

“You have no idea how much I want that,” Chris says regretfully. “No idea. But I wasn’t exactly anticipating this to happen today, if you know what I mean.”

Sebastian’s eyes light up. A moment later, he’s getting to his feet and hurrying towards the built-in cabinet near the window. Chris watches in confusion as Sebastian produces a black, leather gym bag and rummages around in there for a second, reemerging with a triumphant sound.

“I’ve got stuff.” Sebastian sounds a little breathless as he holds up a packet of condoms and a small bottle of lube.

Chris grins, raising a single eyebrow.

“I’m a single, gay man,” Sebastian explains, rolling his eyes. “I do go out occasionally, you know. Plus I used to be a boy scout. Always be prepared, and all that.”

“Hey,” Chris says, holding up his hands. “I’m not judging.”

“You totally are,” Sebastian snorts. “You should stop that and fuck me instead. Deal?”

Oh, but Chris loves this. He loves the banter, the way the extreme sexual tension of just moments ago has shifted into something more lighthearted, though still undeniably charged. It’s been a while since he’s had anything more than a one night stand, and those typically leave little room for levity, in his experience. Usually, people are so preoccupied with the fact that they’re sleeping with Chris Evans, Captain America, and so desperate to please him, that it almost becomes a little off putting.

With Sebastian, there’s none of that. Yes, Sebastian’s clearly very attracted to him, but he doesn’t hesitate to crack a joke or make a smartass remark. Chris admires that kind of self-assuredness, that independence, if you will, while he also manages to make it clear how much he wants this.

How much he wants Chris. And the feeling, Chris thinks, as he slowly lets his eyes trail up and down Sebastian’s slightly disheveled form, his entirely mutual.

Purposely lowering his voice, Chris says, “Take off your shoes, socks and pants.”

A visible shiver runs through Sebastian at Chris’s commanding tone.

Chris smiles wolfishly. “That’s what I thought. Today please,” he adds when Sebastian doesn’t move immediately, just stands there like he’s frozen.

Sebastian jerks into action, going over to the desk where he puts down the supplies before turning back to face Chris. Slowly, he starts to toe off his shoes, which he kicks aside, followed by his socks. Chris watches intently as Sebastian’s hands drop to the buttons on his slacks, unbuttoning them one by one before hooking his thumbs in the waistband and pulling them down, past the modest swell of his ass. They fall to the floor and he steps out of them easily. Chris’s eyes glue themselves to the bulge in his dark grey briefs, where a wet spot has formed at the front. Next, he lets his gaze trail over Sebastian’s long legs, elegant and yet with firm, muscled thighs that Chris would love to feel wrapped around his waist one day. Or his head. He’s not picky.

Sebastian just stands there, letting himself be looked at, seemingly savoring the attention. Finally, he reaches up to loosen his tie, deftly pulling it off and dropping it. He starts unbuttoning his dress shirt, next, but Chris stops him after he’s opened the last one.

“That’s enough.” He goes to sit up a little straighter in his chair and beckons Sebastian closer. “Come here.”

Obeying beautifully, Sebastian walks over to him, but not before snatching the condoms and lube off the desk. He comes to stand in front of him, holding Chris’s eyes and waiting for further instructions.

“Take off your briefs.”

Sebastian lets out a shaky breath. Slowly, he slides his underwear down his legs and steps out of them. His dick isn’t too large, but it’s pretty, and makes Chris’s mouth water instantly. Reaching out, he puts his hands on Sebastian’s hips. He darts a quick glance up to his face to check if this is okay, when Sebastian just bites his lip as he looks down at him with a heated look in his slate grey eyes, Chris lowers his mouth over Sebastian’s cock.

He lets out a pleased little hum at the taste of him on his tongue, swiping it around the head to lap up the precome that’s gathered at the tip. Sebastian moans beautifully, hands resting on Chris’s shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle.

“Chris,” he breathes, letting his head fall backwards. Chris looks up at him through his lashes, marveling at how pretty Sebastian looks even from this unflattering angle. He bobs his head and sucks him off with relish, taking him down over and over, until Sebastian’s thighs start to tremble.

“Please.”

Chris pulls off with a wet sound. “Please what?” he asks, voice even rougher than it was moments before.

“I need –” Sebastian whimpers, hips jerking, and Chris thinks he knows exactly what he needs.

He sits back against the back rest and pats his lap. Sebastian takes the hint immediately and climbs on, straddling his thighs. His flushed, leaking cock presses against the front of Chris’s dress shirt, sure to leave a stain, but Chris couldn’t care less. He’s got a lap full of mostly naked Sebastian; he does not feel particularly worried about dry cleaning right now.

Chris allows himself a moment to take Sebastian in. With his flushed cheeks, and dark eyes, glossy with arousal, he’s breathtaking. His hair is mussed and his toned, tanned torso visible through the gap in his opened dress shirt. His cock is hard and flushed, the base surrounded by neatly trimmed pubic hair. Sebastian’s been biting his lips, it seems, because they look extra red – a little raw from the way his teeth have been worrying at them while Chris sucked him off. Needing to taste them more than he’s needed anything in a while, Chris leans in, wrapping an arm around Sebastian’s waist and pulling him into a deep, hungry kiss. He runs a hand along Sebastian’s long legs, which are remarkably smooth, like the rest of him. Sebastian balances a line between strong and elegant, and Chris is mesmerized by it.

“God, you’re stunning,” Chris rumbles, trailing a hand from the hollow of Sebastian’s neck all the way down his chest, abs, and then bypassing his cock to slide around to his backside. He grabs a handful of that small but perfectly formed ass and kneads it. Sebastian’s breath hitches, and Chris splays his hand over Sebastian’s tailbone before he deliberately dips his middle finger between his cheeks. When the tip of it brushes Sebastian’s smooth, tight hole, Sebastian gasps, his pupils dilating impossibly further until there’s barely anything left of the beautiful ocean blue of his irises. Their gazes lock while Chris gently teases at Sebastian’s hole with his finger, rubbing little circles there that don’t do a thing yet to loosen him up but that have Sebastian squirming in his lap nonetheless.

It takes approximately a minute of this before Sebastian breaks, whining in the back of his throat in a way that Chris is pretty sure is unintentional.

“What is it, baby?” The endearment is out before Chris can check himself, but the way Sebastian shivers against him shows he doesn’t exactly seem to mind it. “You need something?”

“Yes,” Sebastian breathes.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Want your fingers in me,” Sebastian answers instantly, though the way his voice trembles tells Chris it’s harder for him to say it than he’s trying to make it appear. “Please.”

“Anything you need, baby,” Chris assures him, leaning in to steal a kiss.

He takes the lube from Sebastian’s clenched fist, popping open the lid and reluctantly drawing his hand back from Sebastian’s ass to coat his fingers in the stuff. They’re back a moment later though, slick fingers rubbing over Sebastian’s hole with intent, before he starts to work the tip of his forefinger slowly inside. Sebastian sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as Chris slowly slides his finger in deeper, his mind bombarding him with signals of hot, tight, wet that go straight to his already rock-hard cock.

He can’t wait to be inside Sebastian, but first, he needs to make sure he does a thorough job opening him up. The last thing Chris wants to do is hurt him. In fact, he’s already ready to fight anyone who ever hurt Sebastian in the past or is planning to in the future, and he’s rather not have to kick his own ass.

“More,” Sebastian demands. His tongue darts out to lick his own lips, and Chris’s cock twitches at the sight. Lining up a second finger next to the first, he slowly presses it in as well, carefully stretching Sebastian’s tight entrance, readying it for his cock. Just that thought alone is enough to make Chris’s brain short-circuit for a second. Sebastian rests his forehead against Chris’s, his breathing picking up, but it doesn’t sound like he’s uncomfortable. So Chris doesn’t stop, instead slightly spreading his fingers to gently pry him open further.

“You’ve got – big fingers,” Sebastian pants, rocking back on them just a little.

“Sorry,” Chris says guiltily.

“No – ah. That’s, that’s really not a bad thing.”

Chris smirks. “I see. You want more?”

“Yes, please,” Sebastian breathes, the last word fading into a moan when Chris adds a third finger to the first two.

“There’s a good boy,” Chris says, kissing Sebastian’s cheek almost sweetly. “Asking for it so nicely.”

Sebastian sighs contently, melting a little further against him. Slowly, Chris starts to slide his fingers in and out while Sebastian’s fingers dig hard into Chris’s biceps. Since Chris knows sometimes the discomfort of the initial stretch can cause an erection to flag, he brings his left hand to Sebastian’s cock to stroke it tightly, just until Sebastian’s eyelids start fluttering from pleasure instead of tension.

Chris keeps him on the edge for a while, aware that he’s probably done enough to prepare him, but unable to stop staring at Sebastian, where he’s open and wanton and beautiful in his lap. It’s only when Sebastian whimpers and buries his face in Chris’s neck, breath hot and moist on his skin, that Chris remembers he’s working towards something here.

“Shhh,” he coos, rubbing Sebastian’s smooth back with his free hand. “It’s alright. I’m gonna give you what you need, okay?”

Sebastian nods shakily, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Chris’s throat.

“Please,” he pleads, somewhere between sweetly and desperately, and Chris’s heart does a funny thing inside his chest. He has to kiss Sebastian again then, deep and slow and consuming, swallowing his beautiful moans as he crooks his fingers inside of him to makes him cry out softly into his mouth.

Finally, Chris makes himself pull back, pulling out his fingers and wiping them on the bottom of his own shirt.

“Okay,” he says, feeling a little unmoored and shaky himself. “Alright, stand up for me, honey.”

Sebastian does, climbing off Chris’s lap, and standing there on slightly unsteady legs, like a baby deer, waiting to be told what to do next.

“Take off the shirt and bend over the desk.”

It’s an order, but Chris watches Sebastian’s face carefully so see his reaction, ready to propose something else if he isn’t comfortable with this. He needn’t have worried. Sebastian instantly turns around, all but ripping off his shirt and then pushing aside some of the papers on his desk before bending over it. He keeps his legs straight, making his ass stick up in the air a bit as he presents himself for Chris’s hungry gaze.

For a moment, Chris can’t believe his luck. He came here today with a purpose; to work on his project, his brain child that he cares about a lot, and it had gone well, and that was all Chris has hoped for from today. To find himself in this position now, with the most attractive man he’s ever seen laid out before him like some sort of fata morgana, patiently waiting for Chris to fuck him stupid, that’s something he could never have anticipated. It’s better than anything he could have dreamed up.

“Jesus,” he says out loud, too caught up in his feelings to have much of a brain to mouth filter left. “I can’t believe I got this lucky. Look at you.”

“Chris,” Sebastian says, sounding a little impatient now. Which makes sense, considering he’s naked in his office on Capitol Hill, draped over his own desk, while some actor guy with his pants open watches him from a chair.

Chris shakes himself and finally gets up. Taking off his suit jacket, he drapes it over the back of the chair, and calmly turns around. He walks closer but still doesn’t touch Sebastian, just stops a few feet away. Something tells him that despite Sebastian’s impatience, he probably quite likes being on display like this. Feeling bold, Chris decides to take it a step further and test him a little.

“Show me,” he says.

Sebastian goes still. “What?”

“You heard me,” Chris repeats calmly. “Show me.”

Chris thinks he hears Sebastian murmur a curse, but then he lifts his arms and brings them to his ass, grabbing his cheeks and parting them, spreading himself open for Chris’s inspection. Chris can’t help the soft groan that escapes him at the sight. Reaching out, he smooths his palm over Sebastian’s lower back, then over the curve at the top of his ass, thumbing him open a little bit further.

“Fuck, that’s pretty.”

And it is. Sebastian’s pink hole is wet and slightly relaxed with how long Chris just spent fingering him. It makes Chris’s mouth water. He briefly entertains the thought of eating him out, but then Sebastian makes another impatient noise, wiggling his ass a little.

“Come on,” he pleads. “Do it, Chris. Just- please.”

A new wave of arousal washes through him, fast and strong, making him feel a little lightheaded.

“Okay, yes, I’m – Fuck. Just one second.” Chris doubles back for the lube, then grabs a condom and prepares himself as quickly as he can with his shaky, fumbling fingers. He positions himself behind Sebastian, his clothed thighs pressing into the back of Sebastian’s bare ones. With his left hand, he grips Sebastian’s hip as the other lines up his cock, resting the tip against his entrance.

“Please,” Sebastian repeats, sounding more desperate than ever, and then Chris is pushing forward, slowly sliding into the warm, welcoming heat of Sebastian’s body.

He grits his teeth to stop himself from moaning too loudly. Despite the thorough preparation, Chris’s brain whites out for a minute at how tight Sebastian feels around him because of his muscles clenching instinctively at the intrusion. Sebastian is making aborted little noises that could be pleasure or pain, and once Chris’s brain comes back online enough to register them, he leans down over Sebastian’s back to press a kiss to his spine as he fully bottoms out. He stays there for a moment, trying to keep his breathing even and kissing up on Sebastian some more in an attempt to distract or comfort him, whatever it is he needs.

But it must not be as bad as Chris thought, because it’s only a couple of seconds before Sebastian starts to push back against him.

“I’m good,” he says hoarsely, “you can move now.”

“Oh, thank god,” Chris sighs. He pushes himself back up to his full height and draws out a few inches, groaning at the drag of Sebastian’s inner walls around his cock before pushing back in. He means to go slow, to let Sebastian adjust, but it feels so good that he can’t help but slide in deep and stay there for a moment, drawing tight little circles with his hips that have Sebastian shuddering below him.

Unable to help himself, Chris pulls back and snaps his hips forward again forcefully, burying himself deeper into Sebastian’s welcoming heat. Judging by the sound Sebastian lets out, he does not mind. In fact, as Chris starts pumping his hips and driving into Sebastian over and over again, Sebastian starts to become louder and louder, moans and curses falling freely from his lips.

Chris adores every single sound Sebastian makes as he lays into him, but part of him is still conscious of the fact that they’re at Sebastian’s place of work. The door may be locked – at least, he hopes it is – but he doubts the room is soundproof, and he’d never forgive himself if their little tryst ended up jeopardizing Sebastian’s job or reputation in any way. Since Sebastian doesn’t respond to Chris’s pleas to keep it down, Chris doesn’t see any other option than to bend forward and put his hand over Sebastian’s mouth, muffling his cries.

“I’m sorry,” he says, genuinely regretful. “If we’d been somewhere private I’d’ve let you be as loud as you want, sweetheart. But this is your office. We don’t want anyone to hear us, do we?”

Sebastian moans in a way that Chris thinks could mean that he in fact does want everyone to hear them, but while that may be true in the moment, Chris is pretty sure Sebastian would regret it hugely after everything was said and done and the whole wing knew of their sexcapades. So he keeps his hand where it is, even if it impedes his freedom of movement a bit.

When he feels Sebastian lick at his palm, Chris’s first thought is he’s just being a brat, but when he does it again, Chris takes the hint. He takes his hand off Sebastian’s mouth and puts his fingers to his lips. Sebastian immediately takes them into his mouth, lips closing around them as he suckles them like he’d sucked on Chris’s dick before, making content little noises.

“Oh, baby,” Chris groans, rolling his hips again as he feeds Sebastian his cock and his fingers at the same time. “You just needed something to suck on, huh? Being fucked not enough for you? You wish you had my cock in your mouth, too?”

Sebastian whines around his fingers, and Chris rewards him with an extra forceful thrust that has Sebastian scrambling for purchase on the edges of his desk.

Just so he can draw this out as long as he can, Chris takes it down a notch, slowing until he’s just leisurely sliding in and out, making his strokes long and deep and getting Sebastian to sigh in pleasure below him. Part of Chris wishes he could just stop time right here, stay suspended in this moment in time forever, buried inside in the most stunning man he’s ever had. Not that he’s had all that many men. He’s definitely bisexual, but he tends to lean towards women a little bit more – at least, he thought he did.

Being here now, with Sebastian, he genuinely can’t imagine wanting anything else ever again. Which is… something to be examined closer when he’s not balls deep, perhaps. To stop his mind from overthinking, Chris changes their positions, pulling his fingers from Sebastian’s mouth and ignoring his protests. He pulls him upright by the shoulders, plastering his clothed chest to Sebastian’s naked back.

“Oh,” Sebastian breathes, lifting his hands to grab at the arm that Chris wraps around his chest.

Chris buries his face in Sebastian’s neck, dragging his lips and beard over the sensitive skin until Sebastian is squirming against him. Chris groans in Sebastian’s ear, tongue darting out to lick around the shell.

“You feel so good around me, sugar,” he praises, free hand dropping down to press Sebastian’s leaking erection against his belly. “You feeling good, too?”

Sebastian shudders against him, clearly torn between whether to press back or push forward into Chris’s hand. “Please, please, can I-”

Chris hums, shaking his head. “Sorry, honey. Not yet.” He slides his hand down from Sebastian’s clavicle to his pectoral, flicking experimentally at his left nipple with his thumb.

“No, no, unnghh,” Sebastian moans, letting his head fall back against Chris’s shoulders.

“Ohh,” Chris chuckles, charmed. “Sensitive, huh? How’s it feel when I touch ‘em? Feel good?” Not waiting for Sebastian’s reply, Chris takes the hard little nub between his thumb and forefinger and tweaks it lightly.

“Oh fuck,” Sebastian curses, jolting like he’s electrocuted, before panting, “Do that again.”

Chris doesn’t have it in him to deny Sebastian anything right now, so he repeats the movement and tries not to come on the spot from the way Sebastian’s ass tightens around him when he does. In his experience, most guys’ nipples aren’t all that sensitive, but from Sebastian’s reactions, is sure seems like he’s a nipple kinda guy. Which works out perfectly, because Chris is too. He’s already dying to suck on them sometime, scrape his beard over them, worry them between his teeth and find out how far he can work Sebastian up just from playing with his pretty nipples.

When Sebastian whimpers and sighs, yes, please, yes, Chris realizes he’s said all that out loud. And even though this might just be sex-drunk ramblings, Chris’s heart leaps at the implication that there might be a next time.

Keeping up a steady pace, Chris continues to fuck into Sebastian from behind while he rubs and pinches at his chest. He relishes the high-pitched noises that fall from Sebastian’s lips seemingly without conscious thought: he’s lost in it, just like Chris is lost in him, and it feels so fucking good.

Finally, when he feels the tell-tale tightening in his balls, Chris almost reluctantly pushes Sebastian away from him, down onto the table. He’s loath to let go of him, would much rather keep him close, but he’s conscious that he’s not hitting the spot in that position, and he wants to make this as good for Sebastian as he possibly can.

With a hand on his lower back, Chris presses Sebastian down as he starts to finally give it to him properly, pulling almost all the way out on every stroke before plunging back in. He chances a look down, mesmerized at the sight of his cock sliding in and out of Sebastian’s hole, which hungrily draws him in over and over again. There’s something almost obscene about the fact that Chris is still fully clothed, just his dick out, while Sebastian is gloriously naked, unabashed and wanton, letting himself be taken.

“Oh Jesus,” Chris pants, crazy with it, his body feeling loose and too-tight at the same time. “You’re so fucking hot, you’ve got no idea. Driving outta my fucking mind, sweetheart, Christ.”

“Harder,” Sebastian pleads, trying to muffle his cries in his own forearm. “Fuck me harder, c’mon.”

A haze comes over Chris’s brain, the only thing he can see and feel being Sebastian and the buzz in his veins, the pleasure coiling in his gut, so close to release. He grabs Sebastian’s hips and pulls him back against him every time he fucks into him, and suddenly, Sebastian’s moans change. They become higher and breathier, littered with aborted curses, and Chris knows he’s hitting the spot.

“Like that, baby? You like it like that?” Chris doesn’t care that he probably sounds like a bad porno right now, his entire consciousness filled with the scent of arousal in the air and the slick, filthy sounds of their bodies joining mixed with obscene moans.

Sebastian isn’t much better, anyway, keeping up a near constant litany of Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, in time with his beautiful, naked body being shoved up and down the table with every forceful thrust of Chris’s hips.

“Oh god,” Sebastian gasps suddenly. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking come.”

“You’re – like this?” Chris asks incredulously. “You don’t need me to-?“

“I need you to keep going,” Sebastian groans. “Just like this, don’t you dare fucking stop.”

“Yes, sir,” Chris grits out. Truth be told, he doesn’t think he could stop now even if he wanted to. He’s so close.

Sebastian seems to finally have lost the capacity for speech altogether, the little breathless ah, ah, ah, sounds that Chris punches out of him the only thing he can manage.

“I’m guh-” Sebastian tries futilely, but he doesn’t get further than that.

“Now,” Chris orders, aiming another trust right into Sebastian’s prostate and grinding down on it, his hips flush with Sebastian’s ass. “Come for me, do it.”

And Sebastian does. He keens, body seizing up, clenching tightly around Chris’s cock. Chris’s hips stutter, wanting to keep thrusting, but it’s too much. Before Sebastian has even finished, Chris’s orgasm slams into him like a freight train. He comes with a long, drawn out moan, losing all sense of place or time as waves of pleasure wash over him, cock pulsing as he fills up the condom with his release.

Chris isn’t proud of it, but he more or less collapses onto Sebastian’s back when he starts to come down, his heaving, dress shirt-clad chest against Sebastian’s sweat-damp back. Chris presses his lips to Sebastian’s shoulder blade, panting against his skin as he catches his breath for a good few minutes.

Finally, his softening dick slips out, and Chris is forced to get up. “Give me one second,” he murmurs, looking around and spotting a box of tissues that’s fallen to the floor. He quickly removes and ties off the condom, wrapping it in a tissue and tossing it in the trashcan, along with the one he uses to clean himself. Next, he tucks himself back into his pants and zips them up, before he grabs another hand full of tissues. He cleans Sebastian up carefully, mindful not to be too rough with his undoubtedly sensitive, softening cock.

“You okay?” Chris whispers, gently stroking the slight curve of Sebastian’s hip.

Sebastian just hums in reply, not showing any inclination to get up of his own accord. He seems pretty out of it, honestly, so Chris helps him up and then guides them both to sit down in the chair again. He pulls Sebastian into his lap, against his chest, the contrast between their states of dress even starker now than it was before. Somehow, Chris is a little moved by it, by how much Sebastian seems to trust him, even if he barely knows him. It makes him tighten his grip instinctively, murmuring praise and endearments into Sebastian’s hair as Sebastian’s head lolls back against Chris’s shoulder.

After a few minutes, Sebastian starts to stir, blinking open his eyes and shivering a little. Chris pulls him closer still, rubbing his hands over Sebastian’s arms and legs in an attempt to warm him up a little.

“You with me again?” Chris asks quietly, lips brushing Sebastian’s ear.

Sebastian swallows, then gives a short nod. “Yeah.” His voice comes out thick, so he clears his throat. “I’m- I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to let myself go quite so much.”

He sounds embarrassed, and Chris won’t stand for that.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” He grabs Sebastian’s chin, turning his face so he can pull him into a kiss. It’s soft, sweet, without much intent, and Sebastian hums into it. “You were perfect,” Chris praises as he pulls away. “You are perfect.”

Despite the fact that he’s been naked all this time, this is what makes Sebastian blush, and Chris watches the color appear in his cheeks with delight, chasing it with his lips and nuzzling Sebastian’s hot cheeks.

“You’re pretty fucking amazing yourself,” Sebastian breathes. He turns into Chris further, lifting a hand to run it first through Chris’s beard and then his hair, tugging him down for another kiss. This one is slower, deeper, and Chris lets himself melt into it.

“I couldn’t believe my luck when you looked at me like that, earlier,” Sebastian confesses, speaking against Chris's lips. “Never woulda thought you’d have been into guys, let alone that you’d be like this.”

He doesn’t have to specify what he means by that, because Chris understands. He never thought Sebastian would’ve been like that, either.

Chris gives a small shrug. “Yeah, I’m bisexual, but I don’t flaunt it. ‘Cause, you know – Hollywood.”

Sebastian hums. “Yeah, I do know,” he says, before adding, “Capitol Hill,” by way of explanation.

A giggle bubbles up inside of Chris that he can’t quite stop in time.

When Sebastian raises an eyebrow at him in question, Chris blurts out, “We just fucked on Capitol Hill.”

Sebastian laughs, bright and happy, resting his forehead against Chris’s. “We sure did, sweetheart.”

He probably shouldn’t push his luck, but Chris has never been very good at keeping his feelings do himself. Before he can question it too much, he says, “So, I know it’s all backwards, but… I’d love to take you out for dinner. If – if you want.”

A sweet, fond smile spreads over Sebastian’s face. “Well, as it happens, I could really go for a burger and a beer, right about now.”

Chris groans, squeezing Sebastian’s waist. “If only you could be naked for the whole thing, and it would be perfect.”

Sebastian laughs. “Maybe on our second date. If you’re lucky.”

It Chris crosses his fingers behind Sebastian’s back, no one needs to know.

Read (and comment?) on AO3 - Thank you! ❤️

#my fic #evanstan #rpf #chris evans x sebastian stan #chris evans #sebastian stan #evanstan au #smut #politics #a starting point #ao3 #meet cute #my writing

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imaginesmai · 6 years ago

Text

Tony Stark-Whatever it takes

This was kind of requested by @hulksmashin-bannerpackin, since I hadn’t thought about writting a second part and she proposed! This is a second part of this fic, although it can be read as its own. There is a time gap. I hope you enjoy it!

Plot: something in Tony’s gut tells him that this recording is neccesary. He doesn’t want to think about it, but he does it anyways.

Tony struggled to sit down, the constant pain on his back that he had gotten over the past five years weighting him down. Slowly, he slid against the cream paper wall you had chosen for the living room of the cabin in the woods. In his opinion, it had been ugly, unfashion and quite boring. But one look from you had been enough for him to nod excitedly about the colour of the wall.

He smiled at the memory. Lately, he had been gifted with tons of happy memories. Your weeding, in that beach where Rodhey had fallen in the sand. The birth of your daughter, Morgan, and her constant joy. She made his heart beat a little bit faster, the same way you had kept him alive for so many years. The family meetings, his fixed relationship with Steve, the new will of waking up every morning. Tony Stark had built a lot of new memories over the past five years, where he had decided step aside from being Ironman and enjoy life the way it was presented to him.

The first months had been difficult. After the blip, the snap, everything had changed. Tony’s brain felt like someone had pressed the fast forward button on a remote, while it was on pause. The world around him seemed to zip by, while he was slowly pulled through a murky haze.

I don’t wanna go. I don’t want to go. Mr Stark, pleas, please. I don’t want to go, sir, please…

His heart had broken at the kid’s words. Then, it had been broken again when the realisation of being in a spaceship with you, pregnant with his kid, hit him. The fear and the anxiety had been stuck on his brain since then, and had made him wake up with night terrors every few months. Luckily, you had been there to hold him; but they didn’t go away. And that was the main reason why he was sitting against the wall of his living room, only a dim light filling the place, pyjamas pants on.

Tony had put Morgan to sleep an hour ago. The little girl had been up while he worked on time travel, and had heard him say shit when he had discovered how to bring everyone back. On the other side of the house, you were sound asleep on your side of the bed, his sweater covering your torso. He had kissed your forehead before closing the door and walking downstairs.

If he was really going to do that, he needed to be alone. He wanted to cry and he hadn’t even started.

“Fri?” he asked, voice low. “You ready?”

“Yes, sir. Whenever you’re ready”

Was he? Tony Stark knew the answer. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye; he never wanted to say goodbye to you, the woman that had given him everything. Or to his daughter, the girl who had made him believe in happiness. But he had to do it.

The decision had come to him seconds after he had figured time travel. If he was really going to go back in time, he had to do it well. They were traveling to the past, then coming back, and finally, if they were lucky, fight Thanos or whatever the destiny had for them. He was scared shitless; but if any of those things helped to create a safer world for you, his daughter, and his lost kid, he would do it.

So he had decided to make a kind of video diary, in case something happened. In case things went south, and you had to put Morgan to bed without his bedtime stories. He didn’t want to think about it; everything was going to be just fine, he was going to come back and take care of his family. Maybe, even propose you to have a second kid. Yeah, that sounded really cool.

Tony smiled one last time, breathing deeply, before signalling to FRIDAY she could start recording.

A faint blue light came out of the small device in front of him. It shinned brightly for a second, so bright that he had to close his eyes. When he could finally open them, the light had gone softer and there was a soft humming noise in the living room

“Delete that later, Fri” he whispered, listening to the mechanical answer of the AI. He wished you would be there, holding his hand and telling him that it wasn’t necessary. But that wasn’t possible; if you knew, you would come too, and he couldn’t think about that. “Hey Y/N. I really hope you don’t have to see this. It’s just-It’s a stupid feeling, might not be right”

A stupid feeling that had to be with the inevitable truth that Doctor Strange had given up willing the stone to Thanos. He had said it was the only way, and he had lost the kid. So, if what they were going to do was the right path, Tony could only imagine what would cost him.

Whatever it takes, right?

“Don’t feel bad about this, it was my decision. You know I have quite the hero-complex, you knew what you were marrying” Tony tried to chuckle, but came out as a sad laugh. He wanted to seem happy, if that was going to be the last thing you were going to see of him. So he picked himself up and smiled at the camera. “You know, part of the journey is the end. And I couldn’t be more glad of what I got to live in that journey.”

Somehow, Tony wished he was back in the spaceship. He had recorded himself a few times there, for Rodhey, Steve and Happy. But you had been there, and it had been easier. Also, the galaxy calmed him down. It amazed him that the only thing separating him from the unknown had been a thin piece of glass. Its beauty could only be compared with yours.

“If… if you’re seeing this it means something has happened to me” he sighed, fidgeting with a small tool on his hand. “Just for the record, it’s highly improbable. I have something to come back to, I have my happiness and heart here, and I won’t do anything dangerous. Unless your safety or future is on the line. If it’s, please, don’t blame yourself.”

Tony’s heart hurt. It was not the type of hurt of Afghanistan, or of when Pepper had left him because of being too intense. Neither it was like the pain he felt when the kid was turned into ash, or when he had to wait for the results of your baby health once you were back in Earth. It felt deeper, as if someone was stabbing him with thousands of needles.

“You’ve given me everything I’m today, Y/N” he had to stop himself from looking away; you didn’t deserve that. “I… I’m a better man now. An it’s all thanks to you, thanks to your love and Morgan. I can’t picture my future, my life, if it isn’t with you. I love you. And I love Morgan”

The first tear rolled down his cheek, but he didn’t bother to stop the video and start again. He had learned that it wasn’t worthy to hide his feelings from you. You understood him, you loved him enough for him to not feel ashamed about it. So Tony let the tear fall down his chin, until it landed on his t-shirt.

“I hope that, in my loving memory, you keep respecting your bedtime and keep your room tidy. I officially give permission to mom to sell all of your toys away. I already left her the number of the charity organization, so you better behave, Morg. I love you baby. Don’t ever forget that”

He pictured your smile. The way your lips curved slightly when he made a bad science pun, or when he ended up with a mess in the lab. Rosy cheeks when he complimented you, or when he put the weeding ring on your finger just after you gave birth. That was without any doubt his favourite smile; the one you gave him before fainting in the hospital bed in exhaustion.

“And to Rodhey. Man, I’m so grateful for the things you have put up with. Not everyone can stand me the way you’ve done” Tony smiled. “You’re worth more than what Ironman will ever do. Thanks for being always there for me. And I love you too, even if I don’t say it that much”

He thought about your laugh. The light airy chuckle you made when you were embarrassed about something he did in public, as climbing on a desk just to admire how beautiful you were that night. Or the incontrollable fit of laugher that hit you every now and then and that you tried to hide on his shoulder. A lively and vivacious laugh that seemed to echo around him, and light his darkest days.

“I really hope Peter can see this” Tony said, jaw tightening. “I’ve… made some mistakes over the years. All of them because I was too blind to see how pure and good you are. You’re more than welcome to be a part of this family. Morgan is dying to meet you, and Y/N has a room prepared for you. I’m… proud of you kid. I’ll be always proud of who you are.”

He envisioned the way you held him when the nights became rough. The way you wrapped both arms around his back and pull your bodies close together, whispering sweet words of encouragement on his ear. The way you locked your arms around him in the tightest hug, that in the last five years had added a third person, a baby who managed to grab both of your attention and love. The way your fingers and hands ran up and down his scalp, massaging his head until he fell asleep on the coach.

“And to Y/N… I don’t have enough time to tell you all the things you deserve” Tony let a second tear run down his cheek. “You deserved much more than me, yet decided that a broken mechanic with nightmares, anxiety and an alcohol problem was your type. Thank you for showing me to love and to be loved. If… if anything happens, I’ll think about you. Because you’re the light in my life, it would be only logic if you were the light at the end of the tunnel”

Tony remembered the way your lips would attach to his own. The first time he had kissed you, was in a celebration. Full of important people, famous actors and singers and a bunch of avengers. It had been the faintest peck on your lips, in front of all of them; and you had shouted at him until he had to cover his ears. Tony thought of the way your tongues would fight against each other, in the mores passionate embrace. All the goodbye kisses before the missions, the good morning ones and the just because I wanted.

“It’s… It’s has always been you, Y/N. I love you” he smiled one last time, and there was a pregnant pause.

Everything was silent in the house, and, for Tony, the video had a full meaning then. But he wasn’t going to let you know that he suspected how it was going to end, so he clapped his hands and got up.

“But this is just a feeling. Something stupid the brain does when it’s anxious about a situation. Tomorrow is going to go well and we’ll be happy forever, with two kids making our hairs go grey” Tony laughed, and walked towards the recorder. “Maybe a third, if everything goes right? I mean, Peter is not ours but it’s nothing a few papers can’t fix”

His hand shook when he reached for the camera, and he showed the unshed tears on it. Stopping for a second, he found nothing but happiness and calm on his mind. He wasn’t sad, wasn’t mad at the destiny for not letting him enjoy his family or afraid of what was yet to come.

He felt glad that he had gotten to share his journey with you.

“Love you 3000”

Tony smiled one last time to the camera, showing no fear; only happiness and a faint glint of love. He turned carefully off the record button and shut off the device.

That night, Tony Stark laid down on bed and wrapped himself around you tighter, shushing you when you asked if something was wrong. He got up a few hours before the sun just to make love to you for three times. That morning, Tony Stark prepared an amazing breakfast and invited everyone over. They had a wonderful time and he spent a few hours just playing around with you and Morgan.

When the time came, he kissed you for a little longer; until Morgan made a disgusting noise and demanded the attention of his father. Then, he hug her until she was moaning about being too tight.

When Tony looked at you for the last time, he smiled. He winked at his daughter, and later he would hug Rodhey and Peter, muttering how proud he was of the both of them.

And in his last breath, he saw you with opening arms, and he smiled. Because you were safe, his family was safe and he couldn’t have been more happy.

Whatever it takes.

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