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novaksupremacy · 11 months ago

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The Veiled Law of Affection-Chapter 7

hey my lovelies, sorry this has taken me so long! I proofread but my brain is also mush post Calculus final. Chapter takes place surrounding the events of S6E1 "Birthright" It's probably also my longest chapter to date 😅😅 angst, cute fluff, svu case talk, and of course your precious smut 😜I promise your next fix (and some one shot Calex stuff) won't take as long.❤️

Pairing: Casey Novak x Olivia Benson

Word Count: 8955

by PKJ @novaksupremacy

Read Part 6

“Patricia Branson, 6 years old, guy tried kidnapping her in a park full of people.” The uniform on scene told Liv and Elliot as they followed him to the victim and her father.

“Anybody see anything? Stabler asked.

“Only description we got was a white guy in a baseball cap, bystander chased him, but he got away.” The Uni continued.

Liv scribbled notes down furiously as they walked.

Elliot pulled the dad off to the side so that Liv could talk to Patty. She sat down in the ambulance using a soft voice to question the little girl. She quickly realized this was not the first time the child had encountered her would-be abductor. The little girl had originally seen who Liv had deduced to be a young adult/ older teenager for the first time outside the grocery store when he offered to let her play with his puppy.

******

Fin and Munch stood outside the sliding glass doors next to the electronic kiddie ride Patty had described and showed her picture to the grocery store manager.

“Anybody every use that thing?” Finn asked.

“Sure,” the manager said with a thick NY accent, “kids ride that thing all the time. You’ll have to ask my employees if they’ve seen the girl though.”

“What about anyone strange hanging around?” Finn continued to question.

The manager crinkled his mustache, “Does that include two guys in a blue van?”

John shot a glance at his partner then back at the manager, “What’d they look like?”

“Both white, middle aged guy and some teenager with a mutt in his lap. Last week, right by the front door, blocking all my deliveries. Called the cops, Arizona plates and the number. Nobody showed up.”

“We’ve got a pair of pedophiles,” Finn lamented as they left the grocery store and crossed the street.

“With their very own perv mobile.” Munch added as they opened the doors to the sedan.

“SVU Portable I have your plate.” Dispatch said over the radio and proceeded to give information about a complaint made outside Patty Branson’s school.

“Alright we’re on it,” Detective Tutuola radioed back and hopped into the car.

As they drove to their next destination John turned to Finn, “Hey you think Liv and Casey joined one of those women’s safety boxing classes or something.”

Finn contorted his face, “Man where do you come up with this stuff. What makes you think that?”

Munch shrugged, “I don’t know they’re just always showing up at work with bruises lately. I thought maybe they took up boxing or something. Or maybe they’re going to the bar after work and not inviting us, hanging out with their secret boyfriends while we hang behind and do all the paperwork.”

Fin did his best to stifle his laughter, “Look man, I will tell you both Benson AND Novak are both seeing someone. But unless they come in with a black eye one day, I’ll let you do your own detective work on the rest of it.”

******

“Why Patty?” Elliot asked when they realized their mystery men have Patty’s routine down. The park she visits, her school, when she’ll be alone.

“They’re obsessed.” Liv offered.

Elliot looked up to see the van parked not far from them, “They’re here. Circle around and call for backup.”

Fin and Munch pulled up alongside Benson and Stabler’s sedan and rolled down their window to get the briefing.

“Watch the back of that van,” John said as one of the suspects jumped out, “The big boy, complete with red baseball cap.”

Cragen and Fin approached the van and banged on the window.

“It’s an IAB caper Captain” the suspect said to Cragen flashing his shield.

“What’s todays color then,” Fin questioned.

“Purple.”

Fin cocked his gun aiming it at the suspect, “Wrong. Take the keys out the ignition and step out of the vehicle.”

The man behind the wheel hit the gas rather than comply. Fin and Cragen turned their attention to the second suspect in the ball cap, while Liv and Elliot took off after the van. After a brief chase Elliot managed to overtake the van by rear ending it, they drew down as the driver stepped out and then apprehended him. Munch managed to cut off the second suspect in the other squad car just in time for Cragen and Fin to apprehend him as well.

******

“Three THOUSAND dollars’ worth of damage to the car?” Cragen exclaimed.

“What can I say boss, I zigged when I should’ve zagged.” Elliot shrugged.

“Let’s find a way to send these guys the bill, I already don’t like them. They made me run.” Cragen threw the invoice on his desk. “What do we know about them so far.”

“PI ticket pretty well known for reuniting kidnapped kids with their parents. The kids ticket is legit too.” Liv rattled off from her notes.

“So, someone hired them to snatch Patty.” The captain queried.

“Seems that way Cap. No one’s talking.”

“Let’s find out who and why.”

******

“Can my Mommy come in too?” Patty had tears coming down her face.

“No honey it’s very important that you do this by yourself so we can get the bad guy.” Liv said sweetly to the little girl.

Elliot bent down next to her, “Hey Patty is it okay if I pick you up.” She sniffled and nodded. Elliot scooped her up. “I want to show you something special. See this glass?” He walked around to the other side. “No one on this side can see you, its magic, protects you from the bad guys and then we can take care of the rest.”

The perps made their way into the lineup room.

“I’m scared of the boy with the four. He pulled my hair at the park.”

******

After a positive ID on the younger perp and a few hours of grilling them, the older PI told them that Patty’s biological mother hired them to find her daughter. The detectives took a ride to the address that the suspects gave up and went to investigate. Michelle Osborn answered the door and weaved them a tale about how her daughter had been abducted from a car accident that caused the death of her husband. She showed them a facial aging print out that showed what her daughter might look like now, remarkably similar to Patty, along with the addition of the diabetes diagnoses. She also led them into her daughters room which she had updated to welcome home a now 6 year old little girl.

Elliot placed cuffs on her as Liv spoke. “Michelle Osborne you’re under arrest for conspiracy to commit kidnapping.”

On the way out of arraignment Casey ran to catch up with Liv, “Hey they said you were in a car accident. Why didn’t you call me? Are you okay?” the redhead said frantically scanning her girlfriend for any sign of bodily injury.

“Baby I’m fine. I promise. It was barely a fender bender. We hit the back of the van chasing the PI’s. If anything, I’ll be a little sore tomorrow.”

“Well, you’re definitely in for a massage later, but are you sure you’re alright?” There they were: the puppy dog eyes that melted any worry Liv ever had.

“I promise, I gotta catch up with Huang, but hey.” She grabbed Casey’s hand. “Case, if something did happen, I have I card in my wallet saying you’re my emergency contact, and have you saved in my phone that way too.” She tugged on her girlfriends arm a bit before walking away. “I’ll see you later okay?” Casey watched until Liv disappeared into the crowd after catching up with Huang and getting on the elevator.

******

It didn’t take Michelle Osborne more than a few hours to violate her order of protection.

“You’re making a mistake!” Michelle shouted at Liv.

“No Michelle, you are. I read the police report, you’re daughter died in that accident with your husband and now you’ve violated the order of protection and I have to take you to jail, and the judge is going to revoke your bond.”

“She’s my daughter!”

“We know everything Michelle, we saw the police report,” Liv shouted as she put the cuffs on, “We know Anna Osborn died with your husband in that accident.”

“Hey look who I found,” the brunette heard her partner yell out from behind her, she turned to see Elliot standing next to a squad car with their new favorite PI in the backseat.

“You guys just can’t take a hint,” Liv scoffed walking up to the window.

“There’s a piece of paper in my breast pocket. Read and weep.” The perp retorted.

Elliot reached in through the window and removed the piece of paper. “It’s a lab order with the DNA sample from Patty’s hair that they snatched at the park. Patty Branson is Michelle Osborne’s biological daughter.”

The brunette looked at Elliot in shock, not sure that she heard him correctly.

“Patty and Anna are not the same child,” Melinda explained to the detectives when they got back to the precinct, “I ran another test, and they are definitely siblings but not identical. I saw that Anna was conceived through in vitro. The only way this incident could’ve happened is if both women underwent in vitro with the same doctor at the same time and I’m gonna need that doctors name.”

******

Casey walked into the stationhouse with two large cups of coffee. She placed one down on the desk next to Elliot, “Hey, where’s our girl.”

“Thanks Novak,” he mock-groaned in appreciation and took a sip. “I don’t care what Liv says, you’re alright.” He smirked. “She’s in the crib.”

The redhead walked in quietly, she saw Liv’s eyes closed but knew by her breathing she wasn’t asleep.

“Casey when I open my eyes you better either be naked or have a very large cup of coffee.”

Casey laughed, “How did you know it was me? And how did you know I was alone?”

The brunette smiled, her eyes still closed. “I can smell your perfume, and because I’m a cop.”

The ADA walked over and sat on the edge of the cot. “Did you get any sleep baby?” She kissed her head and brushed her hair away from her face.

“No,” Liv pried her eyes open. “I’m too wound up.” She sat up on the edge of the bed next to her girlfriend and leaned her head on her shoulder as Casey handed her the cup of coffee. “You’re the best.”

“Oh yeah? That’s not what Stabler said you’ve been saying.” The redhead giggled.

“Stabler’s a gossip queen.”

Munch walked passed the doorway and stopped, “You two tired from all those late nights of bar hopping with your secret boyfriends?”

Liv picked her head up, “Our what?”

“Have you been talking to Elliot,” Casey asked him. Liv turned her head towards her girlfriend in confusion, who shook her head. “I’ll explain later.” she sighed.

“No, Fin said both of you were dating someone and I just wanted to say that I’m a little hurt that I’ve never been asked to hang out with the cool kids. I did used to own a bar in Baltimore. I’m a pretty fun guy.”

Casey tilted her head as Liv buried her face in the redhead’s shoulder to stifle her laughter, “You’re right John, next time we go out with our secret boyfriends we’ll make sure to invite you.”

“Thank you, that’s all I ask.” Munch said in complete sincerity. “All the involved parties are here by the way. Time to get to it.”

******

Casey and Liv walked into the conference room where they sat Michelle and the Branson’s on opposite ends of the table. Liv sat down between them in an attempt to mediate with them.

“It’s come to our attention,” the detective spoke softly “that both of you conceived by way of invitro fertilization. We’re going to need you to tell us the names of the doctors you used.”

“Dr. Stanley Norton.” Mrs. Branson sniffled, choking back a small sob.

“He was my doctor too.” Michelle admitted and hung her head.

Michelle’s lawyer, Counselor Emmett, added, “Both girls born at the same hospital, within weeks of each other”

Casey paced across the room “Somehow, Sarah got Michelle’s embryos.”

“How could this happen” Mr. Branson asked, the look on his face showing he still felt like all of this was surreal.

“Dr. Warner said it could be as simple as a mislabeled petri dish.” Liv offered.

Both mothers exchanged heartbreaking looks as Michelle began to break down in tears. “I’m so sorry for what I did. I’m so sorry.”

Sarah Branson turned to Casey “is it possible to have the order of protection removed?”

Casey shrugged, “You can petition the judge if that’s what you want.” It was clear in her expression she didn’t agree but she wasn’t allowed to just blurt that out.

Michelle’s lawyer spoke up, “I’d like you to reconsider the attempted kidnapping charge.”

“Your client was ordered to stay away from Patty Branson, and she ignored that order. She broke the law. I have to take her to trial.” The redhead stated flatly. Liv jerked her head and looked at her in shock as if she couldn’t believe what she had just said.

Casey heard her girlfriend call to her as she left the conference room. “Casey, you gotta plead her out.” Liv emoted as she closed the conference room door behind her.

The ADA furrowed her brow, “Why would I do that?” She turned and gave the detective time to catch up.

“Because what happened was a mistake,” Liv argued.

“Michelle was uncontrollably driven to kidnap someone else’s little girl.” She continued walking down the hall, the detective walking along side.

“Her little girl biologically.” Liv’s tone escalated as she stopped at the corner of the hallway.

Casey turned on her heel, “but not legally,” she spoke lower trying to stay calm and show Liv she cared. “I can’t let Michelle off the hook just because you feel guilty you didn’t believe her.” She turned back and continued to walk.

The detective’s face dropped as she wasn’t used to going toe to toe with Casey over a case since that first day. She took a breath and then followed behind, “well then give her a break cause she’s also a victim.” Casey stopped at her door and turned to face Liv while leaning against it. Liv crossed her arms and continued, “What that fertility doctor did to those two women is genetic rape.” Casey cast her eyes to the side afraid she’d cry if she continued to confront her girlfriend. “And don’t tell me that that doesn’t bother you on some level.”

The redhead turned her head and stared into Liv’s eyes, her own starting to water. She wanted to clap back at the cheap shot, but she was already lost in her girlfriend’s charm. Her face softened.

“Talk to the doctor,” she looked down at Liv’s lips longing to kiss her, “confirm what Michelle and the Branson’s say, and I’ll consider a deal.” She stared at the brunette for a minute.

The Detective looked back at Casey’s lips just as hungrily and then nodded.

The redheaded started to head into her office but looked back as Liv was walking away. “Hey.”

The brunette spun around, “Hey.”

“I’ll see you for dinner later, okay?” She gave Liv the puppy dog eyes.

“You got it.” The detective smiled softly and then turned the corner.

******

Shortly after a visit to the good doctor’s office, the detectives were in Casey’s office giving her the run down. Michelle had insisted she never signed the form consenting to egg donation. The doctor was insisting she did and probably just didn’t remember because seven years ago is a long time to remember such a minute detail. Liv could feel it in her bones that the evidence was pointing towards fraud on the doctor’s part. She just needed some help from the DA’s office to prove it.

Both X’s look the same to me.” Casey examined the photocopied paper her girlfriend handed her.

The brunette looked at her determined, “It’s a legal document, forgery is a crime.”

“You don’t know that doctor forged anything.” The redhead sat, leaning back in her chair. Her face contorted in contest.

Elliot chimed in to play devil’s advocate, “Look, maybe its buyer’s remorse. Michelle did consent to donate her embryos, and now she’s sorry she did?” He turned his eyes towards Liv.

“That doctor pulled that story out of his ass!” She came around him to stand between him and Casey, “Come on Elliot!” she scolded, “He was making it up as he was telling it to us!” She shook her head in disgust.

“So, you think he’s lying. Michelle Osborne hired private detectives to kidnap a child. Why do you believe her?” The ADA squinted, tilting her head.

“Because Michelle Osborn has never lied to us about anything. Patty is her biological daughter.” The volume of Liv’s voice started to escalate as she spoke passionately.

Casey crinkled her nose G-d damn she’s so sexy when she gets herself all worked up. Pull it together Novak, cold thoughts, you still have a job to do.

Elliot piped up interrupting Casey’s mental undressing of Liv, “So let Michelle and the Branson’s sue Norton for malpractice,” he suggested bluntly.

Liv sighed, getting exhausted of trying to explain her point, “But if he intentionally put one woman’s eggs into another without consent, we can’t just let him get away with it.”

“There’s no law against that in New York State,” Casey tried to iterate that despite what they were all feeling for both defendants and victims, she still had to prosecute by the letter of the law. “And we can’t charge him with larceny because stolen property has to have value, and body parts don’t.” she said pointedly.

The brunette argued back as the redhead let out an exasperated sigh knowing her girlfriend wasn’t going to let this go. “In vitro costs tens of thousands of dollars a pop. If Norton misrepresented what he did and put that X on this form, then we have him on fraud and forgery. If he did it once before, you can bet that he’s done the same thing to other women.” Her jaw was starting to get tight.

Casey looked up at her girlfriend, she knew when Olivia had a gut feeling like this, she was usually on to something, and she definitely wasn’t letting it go. She pulled Liv down onto her lap and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Okay,” she kissed her shoulder. She had no qualms about Elliot being in the room, she knew he was a safe person for them. “Now all we have to do is prove it.”

“Right,” Liv turned her head, to look at Casey, her body still facing Elliot. Casey’s touch brought her back down to a calmer state. “This consent form is a copy; you get us a warrant for the real one and we will.”

The ADA smirked, “You know you’re very sexy when you have your investigation pants on.” She leaned her forehead against the brunette’s, rubbing her nose against her girlfriend’s.

“Oh yeah, that working for you?” She nuzzled back.

“Mhmm,” Casey blushed and bit her lip.

Elliot cleared his throat loudly, “Still here ladies.”

The two moved their faces away from each other and turned back towards him, “Ahem, sorry.” Casey nodded trying to put her serious voice on.

******

Norton scoffed as he sat in interrogation “I did nothing wrong.”

Kessler waved his hand towards his client “Say nothing else Stanley. My client made an error in judgement.”

“That’s an understatement,” Casey’s voice was dripping with sarcasm as Liv paced behind her.

“Michelle Osborne gave my client verbal permission to donate her embryos seven years ago. Dr Norton wrote the “X” on the form because he thought it would help her remember.” The litigator retorted, an ever-present smug tone in his voice.

The brunette detective was getting worked up “Oh she remembers alright; she remembers that she never consented.” She barked.

Kessler laughed incredulously, “And you believe her, after she tried to have a little girl kidnapped?”

Casey looked at him with a know-it-all grin, “Because of what Dr. Norton did to her, so we’re dropping those charges.”

“Still her word against my client’s”

“And his employees.” The redhead countered, “We have signed, sworn statements that you routinely implant one woman’s genetic material into another.”

Doctor Norton looked Casey square in the eye and straightened his cufflinks. “All I’ve ever done is help infertile couples have children.”

Olivia curled her lip, glaring with abhorrence at the doctor. “All you’ve ever done is pad your bank account” she leaned over the table towards him.

Casey looked directly at the Doctors attorney, “You can be sure we’ll find out how many other women he’s victimized.”

Kessler scoffed, closing his briefcase. “How? You can’t subpoena privileged patient records.”

The ADA grinned, “Unless,” she placed the pads of her fingers down on the desk pointedly, “there’s evidence of an ongoing criminal conspiracy. That forged “x” on the consent form is all the ammunition I need to go before a judge.”

******

Casey was beaming, “We scored a clean sweep.” She said proudly walking into the squad room. Her eyes locked on Liv.

“Oh yeah what’d we get?” The brunette joked as she fixed her coffee.

“Warrants and subpoenas for all of Dr. Norton’s in vitro patients, plus all surgical and cryopreservation logs.” The redhead smiled, dropping some files on the desk, and facing Liv and Elliott.

“Cryo what?” Stabler asked as if Casey was speaking a foreign language.

Casey chuckled, “Where egg, sperm, and embryos are frozen and stored,” she schooled him.

“Any of this make an impression on Dr Norton?” He grabbed one of the files Casey dropped off and thumbed through it.

“Nope guy still thinks he did a favor for the Branson’s.” The counselor sat down on the edge of Liv’s desk placing her hands on her knee, “Anyway, Sarah’s medical records have a notation that none of her eggs fertilized.” She discretely caressed her girlfriend's knee with her thumb. The brunette felt it between her legs.

“So, Norton just slipped her one of Michelle’s.” Elliot shrugged.

Casey nodded, mindless tracing little circles on Liv’s knee, just brushing against the start of her thigh.

Liv popped up off the desk as the redhead’s followed her, “Okay so we get him on a couple of counts of fraud, he loses his license and does some time.” It was taking all of her willpower not so slam herself up against Casey right there in the squad room. The way the ADA’s eyes glistened as she smoothly negotiated subpoenas and plea deals just did something for Liv that she never expected.

“Yeah, and all thanks to the persistence of a beautiful brunette detective from the one six.” Casey bit her lip, subtly linking the tips of her fingers with Liv’s. “Damn I need to get you home.”

Liv blushed; desire written all over her face.

Cragen walked up next to them with a distraught look on his face, “Two-two just called. They’re mobilized.”

“For What?” the brunette looked at him confused.

The captain put his hands in his pockets, “Patty.”

******

Thankfully with the quick work of the SVU detectives they were able to find Patty pretty quickly with a sweep of Michelle Osborn’s house for some semblance of clues. The time and place on the back of a family photo indicated a beach house that Michelle owned. The detectives swiftly mobilized there to find Michelle and Patty. Liv was heartbroken when she learned that Michelle misled Patty by saying her parents didn’t want her.

*****

“You have to do something, babe.” Olivia took a sip of her wine leaning over the island at Casey’s.

The redhead scoffed, “I thought you wanted me to plead her out? I can’t keep changing course based on your emotions.” She stared at Liv in disbelief.

The brunette sighed and placed her glass down, “I know what I said earlier but Michelle is terrorizing this little girl. Patty Branson is a distraught six-year-old who doesn’t understand why this woman is trying to rip her away from her family and I feel for Michelle but she’s making it so much worse.”

The ADA took her hand across the counter and ran the pad of her thumb across it, “You know that your huge heart is one of the things I find most attractive about you, right? I just have to make sure I don’t get my ass chewed out by Branch for letting that beautiful heart cloud my judgement.” She brought her girlfriends hand up to her lips and kissed across the detective’s knuckles. She glanced up at Liv, cocking her eyebrow, “is this helping make up for the fact that we argued earlier?”

“Casey,” Olivia sighed.

The redhead frowned, “Hey I’m sorry, I was just trying to do my job.”

Olivia smiled and held Casey’s hand between her own, “No that’s not what I was getting at.” she chuckled. “What I was going to say,” she rubbed her girlfriend's hand soothingly, “is we’re not always going to agree on work. We may even shout out each other from time to time, but I promise never to go to bed angry at you as long as you’ll have me.”

She stood up and leaned in to delicately kiss the ADA, “and I promise to always have dinner waiting for you, even if its leftovers in the microwave.”

The redhead giggled into the kiss and draped her arms around Liv’s neck. “And I will always be grateful for that, Detective.” Liv stood up straight pulling Casey out of her chair and grabbing her legs, wrapping them around her waist, and placing her on the counter. The brunette started nibbling and kissing down her lover's jaw and then her neck. “Mmm,” the redhead sighed, “you are so wonderful.” She ran her hands through Liv’s hair.

The detective chuckled, “Mmm, I’ll remember that next time we fight.” Casey laughed and pressed her palm against the brunette’s cheek, nipping at her lower lip and then kissing her. Liv raised her eyebrow and flashed a grin, “thanks for making this easy for me.” She ran her fingers up Casey’s bare thighs and up under the skirt she was wearing. She pushed it up and pulled the redhead to the edge of the counter, sliding her hand up the attorney’s inner thigh. She gasped as she made her way to Casey’s center, she leaned in to kiss her neck. “Assistant District Attorney Casey Novak, have you not been wearing any underwear all day?”

The redhead smiled deviously, her hand on the back of Liv’s head holding her to her neck, “Mmmm, well, Detective, if we hadn’t argued, I had planned on pulling you into the bathroom of the courthouse, or my office, or the backseat of a taxi.” She giggled.

“Babe!” Liv looked at the younger woman in shock. “Getting adventurous?”

“Mmm maybe a little bit. It’s hard to control myself around you. Do you know how many times when you’re getting heated about a case, I just want to bend you over your own desk?”

The brunette pulled back and looked Casey in the eyes, her own glossed over, pupils dilated. “I really do that much to you?”

The redhead bit her lip and then nodded. “You, Olivia Benson, make me crazy.”

Liv took this opportunity to slide her middle finger into Casey’s heat causing her breath to hitch.

“Fuck.” The ADA exhaled. She spread her legs slightly allowing her girlfriend more access, who then slipped another finger in. Casey gasped again, “Liv.”

The detective toyed with her lover, slowly playing with her arousal, watching Casey whimper with each movement. “Feels good, Daddy?”

Casey let out a moan, “Ohhhh, feels really good baby.”

Liv pushed the redhead’s skirt up further and laid her back across the counter. She brought her mouth down to Casey’s heat, lapping up everything she’d already spilled from her lover, and then brought her tongue up to her clit. When she did this, Casey’s head shot up as heavy sighs fell from her lips. The ADA tangling her fingers in Liv’s hair pulling her tighter to her body. “Hey baby I need you to do me a favor,” the brunette whispered, “can you spell my name for me?” She kissed down on her clit, a few quick swipes of the tongue.

Casey was panting hard, but what Liv asked of her caught her off guard. “What?”

Liv kissed her clit again and continued to do so between each word. “Spell. My. Name. Please. Humor me Casey.”

The redhead quirked her brow, still confused about why they were having a strange conversation right this minute. She decided to oblige. “O—”

As she did Liv pressed down on her girlfriend's clit, tracing the letter “O” across it with the tip of her tongue.

“Mmmm,” Casey inhaled sharply as she caught on. “L—” she whispered. “I—” she was whimpering and panting softly trying hard to concentrate “V—.” “I—oh god baby I, I’m gonna.” Her breathing was getting shallow, “A—” she could barely keep still, she was almost there, she tangled her fingers tighter in her lover's hair pulling her closer as she started over. “O—” that was all it took, “Oh, Oh, Ohhhh!” Casey let go, an orgasm surging through her body, coming hard as Liv lapped it up, humming and moaning with delight.

“Mmm, Casey do you know how fucking good you taste?” The brunette wiped the corners of her mouth and licked her fingers.

Casey sat up trying to catch her breath. “Detective if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying keep me around for a while,” she chuckled.

“Mmm maybe just for a little while,” Liv grinned as she kissed the redhead sultrily.

“That’s it, you’re in for it. Bedroom, now.” She hopped down off the counter and took the brunette by the hand leading her to the bed, pushing her back onto the mattress. Casey was in nothing but her bra before Liv could blink. She straddled the brunette and unbuckled Liv’s belt. “Wanna see a new trick I learned?” She bit her lip, smiling mischievously.

Liv looked at her lover surprised, “You have tricks I don’t know yet Counselor?”

The redhead giggled, “I got bored in my office the other day.” She pulled Liv’s belt off her pants and began to loop it around itself a few times and then held out a hand reaching for Liv’s. Liv furrowed her brow but cautiously gave the ADA her hands. Casey slipped the belt over the detective's hands and then pulled the end of the strap tight with her teeth.

“Is, is that okay?” Casey asked to check in, making sure Liv was good with what she was doing since it was new for them.

“Oh, that was,” Liv gasped with surprise, “impressive.” If she wasn’t soaked in arousal before she was now.

“You like that?” Casey asked with her eyebrow raised and her troublemaker grin. She brought Liv’s arms over her head and hooked the belt to the headboard. “Don’t move,” she scolded and brought her mouth down to her girlfriend's ear. “Be a good girl for Daddy.” She whispered and bit down into the side of the brunette’s neck.

“Oh, Casey,” Liv mewled, “Oh, baby mmm” She wanted to feel Casey’s skin, dig her nails into her back. Each struggle against her restraints made her throb, the leather rubbing against her wrists driving her wild.

The ADA was taking her time, sucking deep bruises into her lover’s neck. “Keep still baby,” she cooed, “I’m just getting started.” After she finished marking up Liv’s neck, she turned her attention downward. She unbuttoned Liv’s shirt one button at a time and threw it open, bringing her mouth down to tease the brunette’s nipples. She pulled each one into her mouth, wrapping her tongue around it and grazing it softly with her teeth, letting them go with a pop. She continued to roll and pinch them between her fingers as she kissed down the detective’s stomach.

“Fuck Casey,” Liv’s soft pants made the redhead simper. She tried to wriggle against the restraints again causing her to moan loudly. “Don’t tease.”

“Detective, you better stop resisting.” Casey joked as she shimmied her girlfriend’s pants down and then tossed them to the floor and then settled between her legs. “Mmm, baby you are so fucking wet. It might take me hours to clean all this up.” She taunted as she ran her tongue through the brunette’s folds. “Olivia,” the ADA whimpered, “G-d you taste so amazing.” She plunged her tongue into Liv’s core, gently fucking her, moaning as Liv’s nectars dripped down her chin.

“Oh Fuck!” the brunette cried out, pulling against her cuffs, her hips bucking towards the redhead's face.

Casey pulled her tighter, the tip of her tongue brushing against Liv’s g-spot driving her wild. She moaned against the brunette’s center, sending vibrations up her body.

“Mmmm Casey,” Liv whined, “Mmm Daddy, don’t stop.” her breath ragged. “Oh G-d, Oh G-d.” Her eyes rolled back as she pulled against the restraints, her body tightened as her walls contracted and she came on Casey’s tongue.

The ADA moaned loudly into Liv as she felt her let go, her mouth filling with her girlfriend's sweet juices. She pumped her tongue slowly as the brunette came down and then licked her clean. She ran her tongue across her lips as she looked up at her girlfriend smiling, kissing her thighs, and resting her head against one for a moment. The redhead brought herself back up and kissed Liv, sliding her tongue into her mouth, savoring the moment, and holding her thumb and fingers to the brunette's chin.

“You are such a good, good girl.” Casey kissed her again lightly and nibbled down her neck as she undid the restraints. She kissed Liv’s wrists and then laid against her as Liv wrapped her arms around the attorney.

“God, you are so fucking sexy.” Liv kissed Casey on her temple and then traced soft circles across her smooth skin.

******

Casey headed down to the jail to confront Michelle Osborne about her most recent kidnapping attempt.

“You can’t kidnap your own daughter.” Hissed as she was led towards the interrogation cell by one of the Riker’s guards. Struggling to turn her head to look Casey in the eyes.

“The law says she isn’t yours.” The redhead argued, her patience with Michelle had long run out.

“Well, the law is wrong.” Michelle sat down on the bench in the cell, as everyone filed in and followed suit.

Emmett tossed her briefcase on to the table, “We should just forget about the law and focus on what’s right.”

Casey couldn’t help but laugh, “What’s right is for your client to accept that she has no claim to patty. You’re a victim Michelle we can take that into consideration.”

“How much consideration?” her lawyer queried.

“We’re still willing to make an offer, Michelle will have to serve three to five and get counseling.” The redhead stated, staring blankly waiting for a response.

“No thank you.” Michelle shook her head in protest.

“If you go to trial and get convicted. You’re looking at fifteen years in prison.” Casey was in disbelief.

“I’ll be acquitted, then I’ll sue for custody.” Michelle stated haughtily.

“Are you kidding me?” the ADA turned to the counselor, “This isn’t your idea, is it? It’ll never work.”

“I have to try.” The defendant whispered with determination.

“You can’t!” Michelle turned to see this exclaim come from Sarah Branson who was standing a few feet away from the cell with Olivia in tow.

Casey stood up in shock and looked towards Sarah Branson who had just walked in, and then to Olivia who had clearly brought her. “Why did you bring her here?”

Liv looked at Casey reassuringly, “Because she wanted to come.”

Sarah Branson was sobbing “I know you lost your daughter, but can’t you see what you’re doing to Patty? Please, a mother wouldn’t do this to any child.” She pleaded with tears in her eyes.

******

“Look I’m not mad babe, I’m just saying a little heads up with you were bringing her to the jail would’ve been nice.” Casey said as the two women stepped on the train. They both reached for the center pole, opting to stand. Liv wrapped her arm around the redhead’s waist holding her tight to her as the train started.

“You’re right Case, I’m sorry.” Liv frowned, “I promise to work on communicating.”

“Just pretend we’re in bed, you communicate great there.” Casey teased, smirking, eyeing her girlfriend up and down until she realized an old man glaring at her from one of the nearby seats. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat.

The brunette giggled. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

The got off at their stop and walked down off the platform, “Coffee?” Liv grabbed the ADAs hand and laced their fingers together. The redhead blushed a little, the feeling that Liv wasn’t afraid to be seen with her filling her with butterflies.

“Maybe on the way back?” Casey mused, “I just want to be able to think straight again.” She shook her head realizing her phrasing, “I mean, I need to concentrate.”

Liv reached around the redhead to ring the doorbell of the Stabler house. The door opened and the two women were greeted by a very confused Kathy Stabler.

“Liv! Hi. and—” she scrunched up her face trying to figure out who Casey was and what she and Oliva were doing there. She looked familiar but they had never been properly introduced.

“Oh, hey Kathy, it’s nice to meet you, I’m the SVU ADA Casey Novak.” She let go of Liv’s hand to extend it to the blonde in the doorway.

Kathy’s eyes followed her hand and shook it, still looking puzzled until she glanced at Liv and then back at Casey and it clicked. “Oh, OH right hi! Genuinely nice to meet you! You need to talk to Elliot? He’s at the park with the twins. It’s three blocks that way and two blocks right.” she pointed down the street.

“Not me, just Casey here.” The brunette stated and placed her hand on the small of her girlfriend’s back.

“Ah well in that case, Liv why don’t you come in for a cup of coffee.” Kathy motioned towards herself. “Seems like we have some catching up to do.”

The detective glanced at her lover, “You gonna be okay on your own?”

“Yeah babe, stay, have coffee. I think we all know I can handle Elliot.” She chuckled nervously. She gave Liv a quick kiss and headed off down the block.

Liv and Kathy moved to the kitchen as Elliot’s wife poured them both a cup of coffee. “So,” Kathy looked at Liv, “I’m guessing that’s my husband’s new softball friend and the reason you’re wearing a turtleneck?”

The brunette snorted into her coffee and her face went flush. “Yeah, that’s Casey. She’s the best thing that could’ve happened to me.”

“I’ve gotta say I’ve never seen you so— open, with anyone before. It’s refreshing. Do you love her?” the blonde asked sitting down at the table.

Liv followed suit and took a sip of her coffee, “I want to. I just don’t know if I’m ready to say it yet.”

“Boy, you and Elliot really are two sides of the same coin,” Kathy laughed, “took him forever to say it, even though now he’ll admit he always knew. You know, I used to worry about you two. He’d confide in my why I didn’t need to and how he was the only one who knew about it so of course I just thought it was an excuse” she rambled as she took another sip, “but,” she paused. “I’ve never seen you look at my husband the way you looked at her on my porch.”

*****

“Hey Dad, who’s that lady staring at us?” Lizzie asked as Elliot picked up the basketball, trying to explain to Dickie why hogging the ball would end up hurting his game eventually.

Casey was leaned up against the chain link fence at the park entrance. Her thumbs hooked through the belt loops on her jeans.

“Afternoon” Elliot smiled, confused.

“Yeah, your wife said I could find you here.” The redhead smiled.

“Dickie, Elizabeth, this is Ms. Novak. We work together.” He tussled his children’s hair and introduced them to his friend.

“You guys look like a couple of pros out there,” she approached the detective and the twins on the blacktop.

“Yeah, so go practice, and no hogging the ball.” He tossed them the ball as he and Casey stepped off to the side, “Let me guess, you just happened to find yourself on the ass end of Queens?”

“Michelle Osborne trial prep. I need a reality check.” She nodded, looking for some time of reassurance.

“Okay for what? Wait, Kathy told you I was here? You got Kathy to tell you a female she’s never met, my location?”

She shot him a look of c’mon Elliot, I radiate non-threatening LGBT energy.

A light bulb went off in his head, “You brought Liv, didn’t you? And she’s uhm.” He motioned his finger up and down his neck.

“See I knew you’d get there.” She crinkled her nose teasingly.

“Okay so about what?” Elliot asked jumping back to the original topic.

“There’s no way to win it.” The redhead stated, hoping Elliot would either bluntly tell her she was right or help her find a work around.

“You got her cold on the evidence.” Stabler shrugged as he headed towards the fence.

Casey shook her head, “Defense has already won the jury. Once they hear about what happened to Michelle, no one’s gonna care about evidence.”

“Are you worried about losing this case?” Elliot bent down by the fence to pick up his towel. “Or are you having second thoughts.”

The ADA stopped, turning to face him. “I don’t think the law can do anyone justice in this case.”

Elliot mopped his brow, “Are you just figuring that out now?” He sat down with his back against the fence.

“Michelle gets convicted; she goes to prison.” She tried to work out the conundrum out loud, “If Michelle gets acquitted, she’ll never let go of Patty and there will be no end to this.” Her voice got somber, “Either way, somebody loses.”

“Right.” Elliot looked up at her, his voice softer than usual, “What’s the question?”

Casey thought hard, finding it hard to articulate what she was thinking. She chewed on her lip, sighed, and sat down on the ground next to him. “If you found out you had another kid out there, would you want it?” She asked Elliot with genuine curiosity.

“Damn right I would.” The detective nodded.

“So, you know why she’s obsessed.”

“It’s not an obsession,” he shook his head, “it’s a love. It’s a connection that transcends everything and anything.”

Casey studied his face, now she realized how he could be so gruff but also so good with children. He was a good father, a good man. She smiled, thankful for his friendship as she continued to listen.

“I would die for my children and nothin’ in this world that would ever change that. Ever.” Elliot beamed with pride as he spoke.

The young ADA furrowed her brow in concern, “So Michelle and Sarah will never stop fighting over Patty.” She smiled but it was a sullen smile, full of sadness.

Elliot looked down thoughtfully, took a breath and began to recite from the bible, “And King Solomon said, “Bring me a sword. Divide the living child in two. Give half to one and half to the other.”

“Except I can’t split the baby.” The redhead said, her voice low, melancholy.

Stabler grinned, imparting a small modicum of wisdom on his friend, “Solomon didn’t have to.”

Casey looked at him puzzled and then it clicked, she grinned. “Thanks Elliot, I’m gonna go get Liv and make sure she hasn’t told your wife anything embarrassing about me yet.” She blushed and headed back down the street. Elliot took a sip of water and waved her off and then headed back to the twins.

*****

The redhead stood in front of her dresser, taking her watch off and placing it in her jewelry box, “I don’t think I can do this.” She sighed.

Liv could hear the stress in her voice, “What do you mean, honey? I thought you and Elliot came up with a plan. He had “sage advice” you said, which I gotta say I wouldn’t expect someone to say about Elliot as much as I love him.”

Casey gave her a look, “Normally I would agree with you but in this case he was right. However, that also means I essentially have to bully a child on the witness stand. Sure, it’s for the greater good, but hasn’t she been through enough? I mean people already think I’m a bitch, I’m going to look exceptionally cruel tomorrow.”

“Hey,” Liv ran her hands down her girlfriend's arms and took her by the hands. “you’re doing what’s best for that little girl. She’ll understand one day and anyone worth their smarts will see what you’re doing. You’re going to be brilliant; you always are.” She tugged Casey closer and kissed her, “Come to bed baby, you need to rest.”

The redhead threw on one of Liv’s old PD shirts and some sleep shorts. “I hate this,” she mumbled as she turned down her side of the bed. “I feel sick.” She rubbed the moisturizer on the nightstand onto her hands and neck before climbing into bed.

Liv held out her arm for Casey to cuddle up against her, who happily snuggled in, “What if I wanted to hold you tonight?” she joked.

“Tough, come here.” The brunette kissed her girlfriends head and held her close. She ran her fingertips slowly up and down Casey’s arm and closed her eyes.

Casey couldn’t sleep. She stared at the ceiling fan for hours, her only comfort was the sound of Liv’s heartbeat and the rise and fall of her chest as she slept peacefully. She had no idea how she was going to make it through tomorrow. Before she knew it there was daylight peeking through the window.

*******

Casey looked down at the little girl in the witness box, “Patty do you see the person who took you from the museum?

“Yes” the small child pointed to Michelle, “she’s over there.”

The ADA turned to the court stenographer, “Let the record show that she’s indicated defendant Michelle Osborne.” She turned back towards Patty, “So why did you go with her, Patty?”

“She said she had to take me to my mommy.” The child fidgeted with her hands.

“Where did she take you?” The redhead asked flatly trying to keep her tone easy for Patty to understand.

“To her house. Mommy wasn’t there.” Patty said sadly.

Casey turned back towards Michelle, “Did you ask her where Mommy was?”

“Yes Michelle said she’s my real mommy. My egg mommy.” The little girl was physically upset.

“Did she tell you what that means?” The ADA continued her questioning even though she could feel the knot building in her stomach.

“She said I came out of mommy’s tummy but the egg that I came from came from her tummy.” Even though Patty was distraught it was still clear she was extremely intelligent for a six-year-old.

Casey stammered silently for a moment trying to prepare herself for what she needed to do. Her insides were twisted, she wished she had a moment to glance at Liv. She knew if she could just see her, she’d feel better and know she was doing the right thing. “What did you do while at Michelles house, Patty?

Patty shrugged, “Watched TV, played with toys.”

“Do you think Michelle is nice?” The counselor inquired.

Patty shrugged again, “She’s okay.”

The redhead leaned down to get eye level, “You know what Michelle said about being your egg mommy is true right?” Casey took a deep breath, “Your Honor?”

Judge Bradley looked at the small child sympathetically, “Please answer the question, Patty.”

“No! It’s not true.” The little girl began to sob.

“Yes, it is Patty.” Casey’s voice had now become stern, confrontational. Come on Novak, don’t lose it, DO NOT throw up.

“Michelle’s not my mommy!” Patty sobbed, sweet innocent tears, breaking Casey’s heart.

“You came from her egg, that is true.” The ADA corrected, almost fussing.

Michelle looked towards Sarah Branson, tears welling in her eyes.

“I want to go now.” Patty cried, big tears rolling down her face.

“No, you can’t until we’re finished!” Casey scolded. She needed this to be over before she tossed her cookies. Sarah Branson began weeping from the gallery.

“I don’t want to go with Michelle.” The little girl continued to sob.

Emmet slammed her hand on the defense table. “Your honor she’s just a little girl!”

“Is this line of questioning really necessary?” Judge Bradley empathized.

“Patty, do you understand?” Casey pushed, she hated herself for this.

Patty was in hysterics at this point, “I don’t want to go with Michelle!”

“You don’t have to Patty—Not yet.” The redhead’s volume was elevated, her voice echoing throughout the courtroom.

“I want my mommy and daddy!” Patty shouted.

“No, you have to stay here!” The ADA remained stern.

Patty turned towards Michelle, “Please! Don’t take me away, please!”

Michelle stood up and shouted, “Stop! Just stop it.”

“Sit down!” The judge ordered Michelle.

“Patty I’m sorry,” Michelle wept, struggling to get words out, “I won’t ever bother you again.”

Patty ran to her parents, Casey stayed facing the witness stand breathing a silent sigh of relief that her and Elliot’s plan worked.

Michelle pleaded with the judge, “Ill please guilty if that’s what it takes. Just leave Patty alone.”

Casey closed her eyes, trying not to let the emotion leak out of her face till she got out of the courtroom. As soon as everyone one was adjourned the ADA made a dash for the bathroom. The room was spinning but she tried to splash some water on her face and take some deep breaths. She heard the door creak open, but she couldn’t even look up from the sink to see it was Liv. The brunette rushed and grabbed her from the side, she turned into her.

“Hey, hey baby I got you. It’s okay, you did great. Patty gets to go home with her parents. You did it babe. Shhh, shhh” Liv cooed softly trying to calm Casey down who was actively hyperventilating. “Hey Case, Case listen, match my breathing. Deep breaths.”

The redhead did her best to time her breathing to match Olivia’s until she was calm again. She squeezed herself tight against Liv. “Thank you for being here.”

“I’ll be here for you whenever you need me.” The detective held Casey’s head tight against her chest.

“Well then you’ll just have to always be here.” The ADA chuckled.

They walked to the squad room, Casey putting her briefcase down and handing a file to Elliot. “Michelle plead out to custodial interference. Her sentence was set aside, and she said she was going to move out of state because it was too hard to be around Patty.”

Elliot gave Casey a half smile and a knowing nod, “She did the right thing, loving her enough to let her go. I knew you’d figure it out.”

Casey nudged Elliot.

Cragen shook his head, “The damage is already done. That little girl's relationship with her parents will never be the same now that everyone knows the truth.”

Casey sighed in agreement, “Law has to catch up with technology. When Patty’s 18 she has the right to make her own choice on whether or not she wants to contact Michelle, like in an open adoption.”

Liv came around to meet everyone, “I finished the audit on Dr Norton’s clinic, turns out Michelle had sixteen embryos, ten of which were implanted in other women.”

“How many live births?” Elliot asked quietly.

“Besides Patty, Michelle has two daughters and a son out there.”

Casey hung her head, they may have put a band aid over this, but it was far from solved. She stretched her neck to the side, Liv was quiet.

Casey walked up and leaned against her side, looping her arm through her girlfriends, while the squad knew they still had to be careful about holding hands at the precinct. “Hey, what do you say we get a big bottle of wine and go back to my place. It’s been a day.”

Liv looked up “That sounds perfect.”

They started for the exit, “I still owe you that massage.” Casey smirked.

“You can give it to me while your body’s wrapped around me in that big bathtub you’re always bragging about.” Liv lightly hip checked her girlfriend.

Cragen looked at Elliot, “Do…do they think we can’t hear them?” he raised his brows.

“Captain, I think,” he paused, “when those two look at each other, they forget we exist.” Stabler folded his arms as he and Cragen watched them walk out the door.

#casey novak #olivia benson #casey novak x olivia benson #casey novak smut #olivia benson smut #casey novak angst #olivia benson angst #svu #casey novak fanfic #law and order svu #lgbtqia #wlw fanfic #wlw smut

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lazyneonrabbitt · 2 years ago

Note

Could I possibly request a Gallzatto x Reader about the trio planning their girls first birthday?

The planning would be absolute chaos. Also I hate planning so I hope I did this justice!!

~~☆☆☆~~

The three of you sat around the coffee table, debating about the upcoming birthday of your twin daughters.

By now all you had agreed on was the dlower theme to match their names. One wanted a big party, the other something small, and the last really wanted to go to bed since it was 1AM already and you weren't a single step closer to completing this planner.

"Can we puhleeease just decide on the cake and call it a day? I need sleep, I have work tomorrow.." You whined at them and dropped your head onto your crossed arms.

"Seriously if you don't decide right now I'm calling Marcus and do it myself."

"Chocolate cake, obviously."

"Vanilla, for sure."

"Alright screw this. I'm off to bed." You grabbed your mug and brought it to the sink before going past the table again to kiss both boys goodnight and head off. "Goodnight you two."

A defeated sigh left Lip's lips. "I don't get why she's so moody about all of this." He looked over the list of things that still needed to be decided on with multiple scribbled notes at the sides.

"The girls' birthday is nice, but you're forgetting that day was a nightmare come true for their mom." Carmen's comment had Lip take back his complaint, he felt bad remembering how you'd wake up crying night after night in the first weeks after the babies were born.

"How about half chocolate half vanilla for the cake?" Lip had taken a new piece of paper and scribbled a wonky looking cake shape, splitinto two half circles with one end saying 'vanilla' and 'chocolate' on the other. He kept writing on each side, ending with the girls' names on either side and their favorite color decorations written down as well. He turned the paper and slid it over to Carmy to inspect.

"Yeah, looks good to me. We'll ask momma tomorrow." Carmy took your list and checked off the cake bit. They moved on to the next box: drinks. A small 'alcohol?' Next to it as a means to ask the boys later. "I know I can keep my hands off it now. I'm in a good place"

So they agree on a small 'yes' next to your question, count how many people gou plan to invite and write down the amount of drinks to order for the bigger and smaller guest amount options.

A little "run by mom" note next to it in a bright color.

"Do we get their flowers for decoration?"

"What snacks are we getting? And, buying or preparing them ourselves?"

The questions that come along with your written list each took a short while to answer now that they each finally set aside the ideal birthdays they had in mind and listened to what the other had to bring to the table. They know they're stubborn and have butt heads from time to time. Hell, it led to you leaving them to figuring this out on their own just now.

"We should get momma something too."

They discussed some more before calling it a night and going to sleep.

The next morning you wormed yourself out from between them and out of bed to head to work. Your morning routine was a simple one with Rose and Lily being the easiest kids ever when it came to breakfast. You woke, fed and burped each one before putting them back to bed and gurning the volume on the baby monitor all the way up so your boys would wake up if the girls got fussy.

On your way past the dinner table you found almost the entire birthday planned out from decorations to guest lists and drinks. You only had time for a quick glance so leaving a little "let's look after dinner" note was your final action before heading out.

Together you gave everything a once-over and settled on all the details fairly quickly that evening and the party was better than expected with so many lovely gifts from both Carmy's and Lip's families. Flower themed cake and little cupcakes were available as your little girls were pampered and smothered with cuddles and kisses from everyone.

After the party was over and the girls were asleep you happily cleaned up together and went off to bed. The boys wanted to have one last smoke before joining you and came in with a small box wrapped in a little bow.

"We know today is our baby girls' day," Lip started as he sat down on one side of the bed.

"But you deserve something special too." Carmy added as he sat down on the opposite side and handed you the small box.

Opening the box you couldn't keep your eyes off the thin gold chain with an engraved heart shaped pendant on it.

The front read 'Momma' in a beatiful cursive lettering, and the back had both Lip and Carmy's full names on them.

#sometimes i write #gallzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #lip gallagher #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #lip gallagher x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #shameless

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1kook · 5 years ago

Text

kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!!

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that.

—

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jjk fic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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gotnofucks · 5 years ago

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Paring: dark!Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: How were you to know who’s a monster, who’s a savior when they all hide behind a mask

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: violence, manipulation, dark themes, language, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Aged up Peter Parker (obviously). No smut in here, even I surprised myself.

MASTERLIST

+++++

You stared in the mirror, hands clammy as you tried to angle the phone right. The lightening was not perfect, and you twisted, trying to see if you’ll need to turn on the flash. Just as you thought you’d found your position, your phone chimed and you jumped. Clicking on the notification you opened your messages and found another text from the private number.

Be quick

Just above this was the text you’d received 20 minutes ago that had you running into the bathroom and taking your top and bra off within minutes.

Send me a pic of your right nipple

It had started a couple weeks ago with the kidnapping of your boyfriend, Sammy. You didn’t realize he had been kidnapped at first. He worked as a driver for a rich family and they took him away without preamble overnight for visits into next town. You only noticed something was strange when all your calls and texts remained unanswered for two days and you finally made a call to his employers to figure out if everything was okay. It was a shock to realize that the family was in town and hadn’t seen him for two days too. You had jumped into action, barely making sure you were appropriately dressed as you made your way to the police station to report a missing person’s report. You had parked down and were just about to open your door when the first message pinged. You almost didn’t check your phone, but the notification said private number, so you clicked on it. Your world came crashing down.

It was a picture of your boyfriend tied to a metal chair in what looked like a warehouse with blood caking his hairline and mouth gagged. Tears were streaming down his face and you covered your mouth in shock. Another message chimed, this one reading:

Don’t even think of going inside. Turn around and go back to your home

You had whipped your head around, looking out of the window with terrified eyes as you tried to see anyone who looked suspicious or was paying attention to you. Nothing struck you out of the ordinary and you were more determined than ever to go in and file a report when another message popped up.

Go home or I can send your precious lover’s head to you in a parcel

Maybe you should have gone inside, maybe you should have told someone. But when someone is holding a gun to the love of your life, you do what the fuck they say. Common sense doesn’t come into play. Last minute solutions don’t play in your mind. It was real life, not a movie. You drove back to your house in tears, hands trembling. Your boyfriend was not missing, he’d been taken by someone. The drive back home was a blur and you barely made it without hitting someone or yourself. You parked outside and entered your home, locking the door behind. The moment you were in, another text alert:

Good girl

You locked all the doors and windows, the curtains drawn shut. You sat down in the living you, finally finding the nerve to text back.

Who are you? What do you want?

You waited for a reply, your eyes darting around your house. Did the person have camera’s in your house or were you simply followed? Would they really hurt Sammy or was that an empty threat? Should you call his parents? Your parents? Your phone dinged and quickly swiped up to open the text.

I want you to send me picture of your little toe

What the fuck? This had to be some sort of a joke. You were shaking in fear and anger, your hand clutching the phone in a dead grip. You should have gone and made the complaint. It was dark outside now, but you’d go to the police station first thing tomorrow morning. To hell with this person, you will not be scared of them. You took a screenshot of the messages and made sure your house was secure before retiring to your room with a knife. Sleep came late and restless, your worry keeping you from having a sated sleep. Horrible scenarios ran across your mind, each worse than the last.

You woke up early and dressed up. You needed to be at the station as soon as possible, Sammy was in danger. Whoever had him seemed addled in the brain. You were just pouring your coffee in your travelling mug when the doorbell rang. Your heart beat in your throat, your body seizing up in terror. You got your knife from the kitchen, creeping to the door on all fours trying to make the least amount of noise as possible. You leaned up slightly to peep out the peephole and saw a delivery man. He looked normal enough, cranky from an early delivery. You cautiously opened the door a few inches, hiding the knife behind your back.

“Y/n Y/l/n?” He asked and you nodded. He held out a small parcel to you along with a form to sign. You opened the door a few more inches and quickly scribbled your name across the form, taking the parcel with tentative hands. The man walked away without a goodbye and you sighed. Not everyone was out there to get you.

You placed the parcel on the table. It held only the delivery receipt, no other marks on it. It was small, almost like a jewelry box. You looked at the time and thought to open it first. You didn’t wanna deal with sleep deprived officers who refuse to take you seriously at the station. Getting out you scissors you cut the brown paper off and opened the plain carboard box. Inside was a jewelry box like you had expected, but who would send this to you? There was no note and you opened the flap.

It fell out of your hands as you screamed, your hands rushing to your mouth in horror. The thing that had been perched inside like a ring rolled out and fell on the floor, resting at your feet. It was a little toe. A severed, human little toe. And if your hunch was right, you knew who it belonged to. Your phone chimed at that very moment and you swallowed back the bile in your throat when you swiped up.

Next time, listen. I have no trouble sending his head to you.

P.S. Drink that coffee, looks delicious. And be a good girl and forget about the police if you give a damn about your piece of shit boyfriend.

P.P.S I’ll like a pic of your pinky finger

You send him the pic with shaky hands, tears falling down your cheeks.

This is how it went for a few weeks, them asking for pictures of different body parts. Each with a threat of the same part being chopped off Sammy’s body if you don’t comply. Whoever they were, they didn’t call you and you couldn’t call them. You rarely texted, only asking if Sammy was okay and you’ll get vague texts in reply saying, ‘that depends on you’.

The pictures were seemingly innocent enough at first. Your fingers, your knee, your shoulder, hair braided, hair in a pony. But then they got dangerous. The inside of your things, your ass in a pink pair of panties, your nipples. You gave them what they wanted. As long as Sammy was okay, but you didn’t know how long you could continue this. Something had to be done

+++++

You were probably making a big mistake, but you had no option. Police was out of question, but they weren’t the police. Not entirely.

The kidnapper could for some reason follow you everywhere, even look inside your home though you had scoured every corner and found no cameras. You needed people more powerful and they were the only ones who could help. You know they didn’t have time for something this small as they dealt with world endangering events, but you had to try. You entered the Avengers Tower, making your way to the front desk. The lady sitting behind looked kind enough, greeting you politely.

“Hello, how can I help you?” She asked with a practiced smile and you nervously smiled back.

“I uh, I want to make a complaint.” You winced as you said that, your eyes darting around. The lady however gave you a sympathetic smile, slipping you a form to fill.

“You can fill this one, but it may take a while to get to them. They can be very busy” She said, and you nodded, taking the form and going to sit on a couch to fill it out. You gave all the necessary information, adding in that you had picture proof. You hoped it reached someone here who could help, if not the avengers then someone from Shield. You got up to submit it when you bumped into somebody, making them drop their papers along with yours.

“Oh, I am so sorry” you apologized, bending down to gather their stuff as well as yours. A hand reached out to help and you looked up in the eyes of Sam Wilson. You blinked and then stammered another apology that he waved away. He got the papers from your hand, looking over and found your form.

“This yours miss?” He asked as he looked over the paper, his brow furrowing as he read on. You nodded and bit your lip. He turned it over and then looked back at you. “Do you have the picture evidence?” He asked tapping the paper and you nodded quickly. You showed him your phone, with the messages and pictures. He frowned, his handsome face pinched.

“Can you help me? They sent me his severed toe. For all I know he isn’t even alive now.” You croaked and Sam looked at you with kind eyes.

“Y/n, isn’t it?” He asked and you nodded. “Well, this looked very creepy and bad. I’ll take it up to the team okay? See if someone can spare sometime on it. Here, take my card. Call me if they approach you again.”

You almost sobbed with relief, glad that something seemingly good finally happened. You thanked him and pocketed his card, hoping you made the right call. It didn’t matter now anyway. You were in deep. Either the kidnappers find out and threaten you, possibly killing Sammy. Or they piss their pants and leave you the hell alone. You just wanted this to be over.

You returned to your flat with a lighter heart, having a full dinner after ages. You had the avengers on your case. The avengers. The guys who took down aliens and planet-wiping asshats. They will put an end to this, you were sure. You slept better that night too, heinous dreams not plaguing you for a change.

You went to work early that day. Usually your shift at the local clinic didn’t start until an hour later, but you were feeling hopeful. Helping people through the day by stitching their wounds or giving a kid a cartoon bandage took your mind off things. It was a smooth day, almost normal. No more texts from the kidnapper today and if Sammy were home, things would be perfect. You were only just leaving when another person walked in your station, a cut bleeding over their lip. You recognized the boy and gave him a reproachful look.

“Peter, again?” You groaned, your hands automatically reaching for the antiseptic wipes. He came in once every few weeks, battered from one thing or another. You were sure some gang was beating him up, but he never confided. He was your age, studying some cool physics stuff while you nursed here. He was a very regular patient.

“Hey Y/n, can you patch me up. Again.” He said, ruffling his hair awkwardly. You tended to him, being careful not to hurt him even though he barely flinched. He had tremendous pain tolerance and you didn’t wanna know how he built it up. He was a great guy, pretty cool and respectful.

“There you go, all done. Maybe listen to me for once and don’t do whatever it is you do.” You advised, and he sent you a bashful grin that you knew meant your words went in one ear and out of the other.

“Thanks. You look good today, happier. Something good happen?” He asked and you smiled a little.

“I think so. I’ll get to know soon enough. You look after yourself, mkay?” You say and pack up your stuff. You saw him lingering, feet shuffling around so you raised an eyebrow.

“Um, I was wondering if you’d wanna go out for a coffee or something?” He asked and now it was your turn to shuffle uneasily.

“Peter, I’m really flattered. But I’m in a relationship already.” You told him and saw him frown.

“You have a boyfriend?” He asked confused and you nodded. Sammy was still your boyfriend, regardless of everything. You weren’t going to go around dating behind his back. He will come home. You were sure he will. Peter’s face fell and before you could say something he nodded and left. You felt horrible, but you hoped he will come around.

You got a call from Sam right before you went to sleep.

“Hey, did the kidnappers contact you?” He asked and you said no. He hummed and spoke to someone in the background. “Can you come over to the tower tomorrow? We’ll have a look at your phone, try and track the number?”

You agreed to meet him there at noon and a smile spread on your face. Things seemed to be progressing. Maybe the kidnapper was too scared of the avengers to make any move. You hoped you’ll get Sammy back soon.

You reached the tower with ten minutes to spare. You had taken trouble dressing up today as you didn’t know if you’ll meet more avengers. It was a blessing to have them and you prayed things will turn out okay. Sam met you in the lobby, waving at you.

“Hey, come on up. We’ve got a tech team waiting” He said, and you followed him to the elevator. It seemed to rise up and up, and you got nervous. You were glad you hadn’t deleted anything from your phone but worried what they will say about it. You had after all sent nude pics to a stranger.

“Hey, don’t worry. It’s a safe space.” Sam promised you and you tried to force a smile.

You exited with him in what looked like a huge office space, with cabins and sleek furniture everywhere. He led you to the cabin at the end and held the door for you to enter. You took a step inside and almost stopped short. When Sam said tech team you didn’t know it would mean Black Widow and Tony Stark.

“Come on in, we don’t bite.” Tony teased you, waving you forward and you stumbled. They both shook your hands and offered you a seat where you sat gobsmacked. You kinda sat like a goldfish until manners and mobility returned and you greeted them with a high pitch hello.

“Hey kid, you don’t need to worry. We got a free day today and Wilson said a young lady needed saving. Romanoff loves the ladies you know.” Tony winked and Nat threw a stapler at him that he caught. You nervously smiled and then they got to business. You explained everything to them, showing them the texts and pictures.

“Hmm, it’s a private number. Let’s see if we can do something about it.” Nat said and connected your phone to her laptop, clattering away on the keys. As she did, her brows drew together and she huffed. “Oh, this one is good. Not good enough for me though.”

She kept at it for a few minutes and when her device beeped her mouth parted a little. She moved her head away and blinked before passing the laptop to Tony who looked baffled. He started his own clattering and you tensed. The laptop beeped again and just then the door opened. You looked up to see…a man wearing the spiderman mask.

“Hey kid, you know you can take that thing off in here.” Sam said.

“I’m good. I need to leave soon anyway.” The voice behind the mask said and it almost sounded familiar. He looked at you and waved and you returned the gesture. Of course, Spiderman’s identity was a secret. You were probably the reason he was wearing the mask in the first place.

“This doesn’t seem right.” Tony mused and he and Nat exchanged a look.

“What is it?” You asked and Sam echoed your question.

“Well, the signals of the phone trace back to this tower.” Tony answered and he seemed as bewildered as you.

“What? Like a shield agent? That would explain how they could spy on her without too much trouble.” Sam mused.

“You mind if I see Mr. Stark?” Spiderman asked and Tony passed the laptop to him, leaning back in his seat.

“I’ll have Friday run a scan all over the tower. We’ll have an identity soon. But damn, this is disturbing.” Tony said and you felt anticipation rise in you. You’ll have the name of the kidnapper soon, and after that Sammy can be home.

“Uh, Mr. Stark, something is going on here. I – I swear I didn’t do anything.” Spiderman called out in a panicked voice and Tony and Nat crowed around him.

“What the fuck? How did this happen?” Nat scowled, her face almost buried in the screen as Tony did whatever he did there. “This…this can’t just happen. Tony!”

They looked up at you genuinely confused as you stared back with wide eyes.

“It seems like someone just deleted all the data from the number, including the trace. That shouldn’t have been possible.” Nat explained and you willed your tears away. All the proof you had gathered was lost, including the only lead you’d had for months.

“Hey kid, don’t cry. We’ve got you, okay. We know its someone from inside the tower. We’ll keep a watch.” Tony assured you, patting your shoulder in a fatherly way. You sniffled and shifted in your seat, all the hopelessness coming back.

“I think someone should keep a watch with her.” Nat suggested. “Whoever they are, we know they are good. Must be some top shield agent. A stakeout at her place, that should clear shit up.”

The others nodded and you cringed. You didn’t want to trouble them or have your privacy invaded this way, but if that was what it took to get Sammy back, you’ll be okay with it. So, you agreed.

“I’ll see if Wanda is free.” Sam suggested when Spiderman stood up and waved goodbye.

“Now wait here Wilson, we got our friendly neighborhood hero right here. Kid, you look after her. Your people skills are depressing and maybe you’ll cheer up a bit.” Tony said and you saw Spiderman wring out his hands.

“Mr. Stark, I’ve got college.”

“She’s got work.” Tony looked at you and you nodded. “See it will be perfect. Go on, pack an overnight.”

You gave out your address and went back home, aggressively cleaning before Spiderman arrived. You felt kinda bad for him since you knew he didn’t wanna be here, but well, job’s a job. He arrived just as you’d finished shoving your stuff under the bed and you opened the door to him still wearing the mask.

“Hey, make yourself at home. I’d give you a tour but its only one room, bathroom and kitchen.” You said awkwardly, his red face looking around.

“It’s chill. I’ll make my bed on the couch. You don’t need to worry. I’ll keep you safe.” He promised. His voice wasn’t very rough, and you thought he must be somewhere around your age.

“You can uh, take your mask off if you wanna. I swear I won’t tell anyone” You promised but he shook his head.

“I’m fine. Please, don’t bother. Go about your day as usual. I’ll make myself scarce.” He set his bag on the coffee table and took out his books. Some complicated physics stuff. Well, Tony Stark wouldn’t just have a stupid rookie in his team.

You and Spiderman (Seriously, you can just call me Erek Trapper) had a simple dinner. You knew he’d given you a fake name, probably just an anagram but you didn’t push him. You valued your privacy too. He wasn’t too much trouble, always polite and never in your way. Only once you found him in your doorway watching you sleep, but he very embarrassedly told you that he needed an extra pillow to sleep. You gave him one after which he didn’t appear again.

He stayed for a week before shit happened. You were alone at home when your phone buzzed. “Erek” was still not back from his classes and you were making dinner. You picked up your phone and almost dropped it in fright. A private number.

Such a silly dumb girl you are.

Another buzz

You’re not good at taking orders, are you? We’re gonna work on that

Buzz

And here I thought you cared about this pathetic boy

Buzz

I should have really sent you his whole leg instead of the toe

Buzz

Look in your kitchen drawer

You turned around, sweat running down your neck and tremors hit you as you pulled out your drawer. You screamed, bloody fingernails inside a cup greeting you. You stumbled back and your windows started rattling all at once. You sat huddled in the kitchen, screaming with your head between your legs as knocks echoed around your apartment, multiple doors and windows banging. You sniffed and suddenly looked across the hall where a fire burned in your room.

“No!” You couldn’t get up, frozen in shock. The doors kept banging, smoke filling the house and your lungs, blurring your vision. Your throat was hoarse and dry and you coughed, trying and failing to stand up with support of the counter. You knocked against the drawer, the cup of nails tumbling down over you making you flail and howl.

You crawled away on shaky feet, feeling more exhausted than ever. Your lungs burned and you coughed, losing feeling of your body. The door was banging louder than ever and you shut your ears, tears making their way down your face.

It opened with a bang, a man nearly flying inside and to your side. Cool hands gripped your face and tapped your cheeks, urging you to keep your eyes open. You were in his arms, being lifted outside from your home.

“Mr. Stark, no, I got there in time. Yes sir. Taking her with me. Bring her to the tower? Yes sir. She’s okay – I don’t know. Maybe. Yes. Gonna be swinging with her.” He spoke to someone.

Air rushed against you and you barely opened your eyes before shutting them again. You were flying from building to building, only one arm around you keeping you safe. You hugged him tight, pressing your face into his neck.

“We’re almost there, Y/n. Damn it! I knew I should have controlled the drugs.”

You didn’t understand what he said and as the swinging motion grew frantic, your eyes shut.

+++++

Beeping of a machine greeted you and your eyes opened to the view of a hospital room. A tube was in your arm, a tv playing softly in the background. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and as your memories flooded you, you stood up. The beeping increased and a door opened to let in a man in middle age, with soft salt and pepper curls.

“Hey hey, its alright. You’re safe. You need to lay down.” He said. He looked so familiar and your eyes widened as you recognized him as Dr. Bruce Banner.

“I – what happened?” You asked. Before he could answer, Spiderman walked in and took the seat by your bed.

“I’ll let you guys talk. I’m going to be with Tony, Pete. Call me if you need something. And for god’s sake, take this goddamn mask off.” Bruce chided and left.

You looked at Spiderman who slowly took off his mask and your mouth dropped open. These brown eyes and hair.

“Peter?” You gasped and he nodded, abashed.

“I’m sorry I had to hide like this. I was going to let you know.” He explained. His eyes widened like he really really wanted you to understand.

“You’re Spiderman? So that’s where you got all those cuts from” You said, and he nodded. You raked a hand through your hair and winced when they tangled in some knots. “Thank you, Peter, for saving me. The fire, I – I don’t know what happened.”

Peter took your hands in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles. You frowned, trying to take your hand away but he resisted.

“Of course, I saved you. Sammy would have killed you otherwise.” He remarked and you started.

“Sammy? He’s here?” You almost jumped out the bed and Peter pushed down on your shoulder.

“Y/n, you don’t understand. Sammy was the kidnapper. He…he faked it.”

Peter was speaking but not making any sense. Why the hell would Sammy do that? You saw his bloodied pictures, you saw his torn off toe and fingernails.

“You’re mistaken.” You whisper but Peter shook his head.

“No, of course you’ll believe that. Sammy worked as a temp here last year. He got into Shield’s database and has been using that information to torture you. He faked it darling.” Peter said and pressed another kiss on your hand.

“That’s a lie. He never worked here! He was working for a family downtown!” You shouted and Peter nodded at you.

“Yes, but Friday’s data can be manipulated, and people paid off. They will never testify to knowing him.”

It took you a ridiculously long time to come to terms with what Peter said. His fingers were caressing up and down your arm, lips pressing soft kisses on your palm and wrist. You tried to wiggle it free, but he squeezed hard and you cried out.

“Don’t struggle, I don’t wanna hurt you anymore. I almost added too much hallucinogen to the smoke. You really scared me baby. Don’t do that again.” He scolded you and your eyes brimmed with tears. He wiped them away, cupping your cheek and you turned your face away.

“You?”

Peter nodded, his other hand playing with your hair.

“You were always so sweet Y/n. So nice to me, never asking too many questions. Being kind to me when I was beaten up. I have wanted you for months but then you kept talking to your friends about Sammy and it made me so sad. So, I took him away, kidnapped him. I tried to give you a closure, stage it properly. I would have killed him and sent you a picture, consoled you after his death. I asked you out, remember, and you still turned me down. But then you came here, to Mr. Stark. That day I barely managed to corrupt the filed on his laptop, they were so close to finding me. And well, I didn’t even have to manipulate him into sending me at your place. That worked out so smooth. Now, all the evidence is in play. Sammy will be indicted for conspiracy and attempt to murder. And you and me, we can be together.”

You opened your mouth to shout and his hand was promptly there, blocking all sound.

“Shh, don’t baby. I know you’re scared. I know. But Sammy is still with me. I can do anything. Right now, I’ve only cut off a toe and his nails. He’s still breathing. I think he’ll have a way better life in prison than in a grave, yeah?”

Peter leaned down and kissed your tears away, and when he removed his hands only sobs escaped your mouth. He cupped your face, looking so kind you doubted if whatever he said actually happened.

“No one will come between us. You’ll be mine and I’ll be yours.”

He pressed his lips to yours and you closed your eyes in surrender.

+++++

Taglist: @shooting-star-love @what-is-your-wish @littlegasps

Taglist is open

#dark!peter x reader #dark!peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #peter x reader #dark!fic

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necroticbard · 4 years ago

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behold: part 2 of the murder trial fic. i feel like it focuses a lot on the *trial* part but dont worry im getting to the good stuff. slow burn, baby.

Concept: laurent is a prosecutor, Damen is a defense attorney, and Jokaste is accused of murder.

tw: references to murder, graphic depictions of crime scenes.

part 1 -- ao3 link

“Let the record show the presence of the jury, the defendant, and all counsel.” Judge Vannes gave Laurent a pointed look. “You may call your first witness.”

“The state calls Penelope Fotos.”

Penelope, a young Akielon woman, came out into the courtroom. She was sworn in, and took a seat in front of Laurent.

Laurent gave her a stoney look. “Can I have your name, please?”

“Penelope Fotos.”

“And did you know a man named Adras Leos?”

“Yes.”

Laurent asked the young woman several questions, eventually establishing to the jury that she was a friend and potential girlfriend to the victim. She explained how they met, the nature of their relationship, and detailed the handful of dates the two of them had gone on. She also detailed how she had discovered the body the day before she and the victim were supposed to go on a business trip to Patras, where they would be staying at a five-star resort at the expense of the victim’s employer. It was successful enough. Penelope was well-spoken, though very nervous. Occasionally, she would go into more detail than necessary, or misunderstand the question, to which Laurent would politely, yet sternly, redirect her focus to the matter at hand.

“And while you were there,” Laurent asked, referencing the funeral, “Were there a lot of people there?”

“Yes,” she said.

“And was there someone there by the name of Jokaste Dimakos?”

“Yes.”

“Is she in court here, today?”

“Yes.”

“Can you point her out for me, please?”

Penelope looked at Jokaste. “She’s sitting at the end of that table, wearing a blue shirt.”

Laurent looked up at Vannes. “Your honor, may the record reflect the identification of the defendant?”

Vannes nodded. “Yes.”

Laurent asked the witness about her interaction with Jokaste. “How did she approach you?”

“She came up to me and asked, ‘Are you Penelope Fotos?’”

“At any point, did she say, 'I'm the one who killed Mr. Leos?'"

“No.” She visibly stiffened, eyes looking down at her hands. It was typical for a witness to become uncomfortable under Laurent’s straight-forward, direct approach to matters as grim as the death of a loved one.

“Did she ever tell you why she was there?”

“No.”

“I don’t have anything else, thank you.” And with that, Laurent took his seat for the defense team to take over.

Damianos, the lead defense attorney, was a very tall Akielon man. He was tanned, with dark hair and dark eyes. Laurent had heard of him before the trial. He was esteemed in Akielos, where he had practiced law for several years. People hailed him as justice-driven, but Laurent found it hard to believe. It was hard to call someone “justice-driven” when they were spending their time getting admitted murderers out of spending time in jail.

But maybe he was biased.

“Good morning, Ms. Fotos,” Damianos said, shifting through his papers as he stepped up to the podium. His voice was good-natured and pleasant, which was ridiculous. If he was going to try to get a cold-blooded killer free, he should at least sound passionate about it.

“Good morning.”

Damianos picked up on various questions Laurent had asked, going into more detail and nit-picking things Laurent hadn’t dwelled on. Many of the questions had nothing to do with the victim, or Jokaste for that matter. Though, it wasn’t exactly surprising. There wasn’t much the defense team could do to try and wash clean Jokaste’s image, even less they could do with someone who didn’t even know her.

It wasn't all bad. Damianos was horribly handsome, and watching him was fun enough to make up for the pointless examination. His face was relaxed, hiding any tension he might have felt from the pressure of a doomed defense. His demeanor was personable and sympathetic, a stark contrast to Laurent’s cold edge. And his muscles. Those were worthy of a trial all on their own. Surely, it was criminal to come into court with a jacket that tight around his biceps. At one point, Damianos raised up his arm to fiddle with the projector, making his muscles strain against his jacket. Laurent wondered, if at least briefly, what he looked like without a shirt on. Probably like the guys he used to drool over when he was a teenager.

He must have been drooling again now, because the lead detective, Jord, who was seated beside him, leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Are you paying attention?”

“I’m always paying attention,” Laurent whispered back, looking down at his notepad and scribbling down a note. It wasn’t a very meaningful note.

“And it’s your testimony that Adras Leos never said Jokaste Dimakos was a stalker?” The question was pointed, and for once, his tone was forceful.

The witness stuttered, caught off guard by the inflexible question. “I don’t--- I don’t recall him ever saying it. He might have, I don’t remember if he had said it at that point. The only time I ever recall hearing her name was after we found him--- his---” Eventually, she gave a weak nod and stopped talking.

“I have nothing further, your honor.” Damianos gathered his papers and went back to his table. Laurent’s eyes tracked him as he sat back down.

“Re-direct?” Judge Vannes said, looking at Laurent.

Laurent stood and went up to the podium. He slammed down his pad of paper and looked the witness in the eyes. She squirmed. “The victim had told you the stalker was a female, correct?”

“I-- Yes.”

“And did he ever tell you what this female stalker had done?”

Damianos sat up straight "Objection, it's hearsay."

Judge Vannes considered, but eventually said, "Overruled"

Laurent raised an eyebrow at the witness.

“She had slashed his tires several times, she had slashed the tires of a girl he was dating before me, she had sent her threatening emails. Um, she sounded dangerous. She would hack into his emails and read his messages and break into his house.”

“I have nothing else, thank you.”

Judge Vannes glanced over at the jury box. “Do any members of the jury have any questions for this witness?” A pause. “I see no hands. You may step down. The state may call their next witness.”

Penelope stepped out, and was promptly replaced by Laurent’s next witness, who was sworn in and took a seat.

He made eye contact with him from his place at the podium. “Can you tell me your name, please?”

“Huet Babin.”

“And who do you work for?”

“Arles police.”

“And what do you do?”

Huet Babin went on to explain that he was a patrol officer, and that he responded to emergency calls. Huet answered Laurent’s questions in very few words. He didn’t linger on any detailed explanations, but instead allowed Laurent to ask a follow up question. Their dialogue was quick-paced as he explained how he had found the body, how the victim appeared to have been there for a couple weeks and suffered a deep neck wound, several stab wounds, and a gunshot wound.

“I’m going to show you a couple of photos.” Laurent held up a photo. “Please take a look at exhibits 175, 176, and 177.”

“Yes.”

“What are they?”

“They’re photos of the body at the crime scene.”

“Are they true and accurate depictions of the body as it existed on the night of June 19th?”

“Yes.”

“I move for the admission of exhibits 175 through 177.” Laurent briskly handed the photos to Damianos.

Judge Vannes looked at Damianos. “Any objections?”

Damianos peered through them. “No objections, your honor.”

“Exhibits 175, 176, and 177 are admitted.”

Laurent went on to discuss the photos with the officer. He would put each photo up on the projector and ask, “What is this?” to which the officer would explain. The photos were of the crime scene. Particularly, where the body was found, which was the shower stall in the bathroom. Laurent asked about blood found at the scene, to which the officer explained that there was no blood on the body or the stall, but was instead blood on the sink, in the bedroom, and in the hallway. Laurent asked about the layout of the house, to which the officer explained.

When he was done with his questioning about the crime scene, he concluded by saying, “I have nothing further, your honor.”

Judge Vannes looked over at Damianos. “Cross examination?”

Damianos pursed his lips. “We have no questions for this witness, your honor.”

Of course they didn’t. What could they have possibly talked about?

“Do any members of the jury have any questions for this witness?” A pause. “I see no hands. You may step down. Ladies and gentlemen, we will take the evening recess at this time. Please be back in the designated area at 10:30 tomorrow morning. You are dismissed.”

The members of the jury walked out, meanwhile Laurent packed his papers back into his briefcase. Jord stood and flattened his suit jacket. “Goodnight, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Have a nice evening,” Laurent said, voice flat. He looked at his phone, the old photograph of Auguste lighting up the screen. He had several text messages from Nicaise, though none of them were very meaningful. They were mostly complaints about the paperwork he was paid to fill out, the phone calls he was paid to make, and how dreadful the life of a paralegal is. Laurent rolled his eyes. He took another second to look at the picture of Auguste before he locked his phone and put it back in his pocket.

#mine #captive prince #capri #damen x laurent #damen of akielos #lamen #laurent of vere

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ichigo-daifuku · 4 years ago

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Ruffled Feathers

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Pairing: Hawks/Todoroki Fuyumi Genre: Fluff, (Attempt at) Humor, Secret Relationship Word Count: 2.1k | AO3 Link

Synopsis: Fuyumi receives a plush toy of a certain Pro Hero as a gift from her students. No, it isn’t Endeavor. It isn’t her secret boyfriend, Hawks, either. Much to Keigo’s dismay, her students picked someone else, and it’s Edgeshot.

It happened on a Friday evening.

Keigo and Fuyumi agreed to meet for dinner at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant he frequented when he dropped by Musutafu. No one knew of their relationship yet, and it was the perfect location for a date night. The restaurant was quaint, unassuming, and situated in a discreet street mainly those who resided nearby visited. Fuyumi had loved it at first sight. She was surprised at how Keigo knew of it when she didn’t—she was the one who grew up in Musutafu while he was from Fukuoka! He explained how it was all thanks to his excellent sense of direction, and that led from one subject to another. Soon, it became a regular spot for their secret rendezvous. The food was outstanding, and it came to be their goal to try every dish on the menu.

Tonight, that would be karaage, which Keigo had been looking forward to all week.

The two of them sat in front of each other, waiting for their orders. As they chatted about the recent happenings in their lives, the item on the extra seat, resting beside Fuyumi’s bag, piqued Keigo’s interest.

“Hm? What’s that?” he asked, his eyes trained on the object in question.

“This one?” Fuyumi’s eyes lit up at the mention of the gift bag. She placed it on the table and explained, “I was quite surprised, but it’s a gift from the kids in my class.”

She unfolded the card attached to the handle and showed it to him. The message inside, scribbled by the class president, said: Todoroki-sensei, thank you for everything! We hope you like it! Signed at the bottom was the name of her homeroom class with a happy face beside it.

“Cute,” Keigo noted with a pleasant smile, mentally taking a guess why her students would give her a surprise gift. “Was there an occasion?”

“We had a talent show last week. I guess the kids had a lot of fun.”

“I’m sure they did,” he said and meant every word. He knew how much Fuyumi enjoyed teaching at the elementary school and thought it was nice to see her receiving love from her students.

“I’m curious to see what’s inside.” She began to unseal the washi tape on top of the gift bag. “It’s from the kids, though, so I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Keigo, who had received training provided by the Hero Public Safety Commission instead of formal education during his younger years, wondered what kind of presents school kids gave their teachers.

It was, however, the last thing he expected it to be.

Fuyumi peeked inside the bag and exclaimed, “It’s Edgeshot!”

His eyes widened in shock and alarm, taken aback. “E-Edgeshot?!”

“That’s right.”

“No way! Haha! You don’t mean that Edgeshot, right?”

“There’s no other Edgeshot other than Pro Hero Edgeshot, I think.” She laughed at what she thought was a joke he made and pulled the item out of the gift bag, showing it to him with a sunny smile. “Look! Isn’t he cute?”

He did as she asked and stared at it, unable to believe his eyes.

It was truly Edgeshot—in his chibi plush toy form.

And he, most definitely, was not cute.

“Fuyumi,” Keigo began with feigned nonchalance, except if his laser-like gaze could burn a hole through the plush toy, it would already have one. He wondered why, out of all the Pro Heroes in Japan, her students picked Edgeshot. The strain in his voice betrayed his bluff as he asked, “Do you like… Edgeshot?”

“He’s great, I guess? I mean, he is the Number Four Hero. The kids are fans of him and—”

“I’m Number Two, though,” Keigo bragged, puffing up his feathers. “Between the two of us, I’m the cooler guy.”

She nodded, chuckling. “Why, yes, of course. That’s right.”

He grimaced, unable to confirm if she agreed a hundred percent with him when she sounded as if she was placating a hatchling. A certain thought popped inside his mind, uncovering a silver lining in this dark cloud.

That’s it! Keigo thought. That’s the reason why her students chose that as a gift!

“I see,” he declared with a clap of his hands, pleased with his epiphany, “do you, perhaps, collect Pro Hero merch?”

“Not really,” she replied, creating a fracture on his optimistic fantasy, “Well, I do have a few of Dad’s, of course.”

“And?”

“That’s it.”

“Huh?” He leaned back, startled, but refused to let go of his last shred of hope. “How about the merch of a certain Wing Hero?”

“Er, about that…” Fuyumi fidgeted in her seat, finally understanding what he was getting at. She returned the Edgeshot plush toy back inside the gift bag and reluctantly admitted, “I… don’t have any.”

Keigo felt as if someone had poured cold water on him.

“Oh,” he muttered lamely. Wings fluffed up, he sent one of his feathers into his hands and preened it while staring into space. Yes, Fuyumi didn’t look like the type of person to collect Pro Hero merchandise. Now that he thought about it, he had never seen her with one, either. He was reluctant to admit it, but he was jealous. How come her students thought an Edgeshot plush toy was a more suitable gift for Fuyumi than a Hawks one?

“Here’s your karaage!” the waiter chimed in, set their orders in front of them, and refilled their tea.

However, even the karaage, which Keigo had been eagerly anticipating, did nothing to cheer him up.

“I’m so sorry, Keigo,” Fuyumi lamented, rousing him from his reverie, “It just… never crossed my mind.”

“Don’t worry. It’s not your fault,” he replied, internally reproaching himself for making her feel responsible for his silly reaction. “Besides, even if you aren’t a Hawks fangirl, you’re my girlfriend.”

“That’s right, but I am a fan of you, though.” She picked up her chopsticks and placed a piece of chicken from her plate between them, lifting it near his lips. “You’re my number one. Don’t be sad, please?”

Ugh, how come she knew just what to say to raise his spirits? His lips twitched as he opened his mouth and received her peace offering. The karaage was delicious. Most importantly, she said he was her number one. Nothing could top that. His bleak mood dissipated, and his face broke into a genuine smile, one that she returned with a relieved one of her own.

Still, Keigo couldn’t help but think about it later that night. Fuyumi had Endeavor merchandise, which was to be expected. As a matter of fact, he thought it was great how they had another thing in common. Now, however, Fuyumi had Endeavor and Edgeshot goods, but zero Hawks collectibles.

That couldn’t be. He had to do something about it.

A few days later, a package was delivered to the Todoroki abode. It was a large box sealed with ‘fragile’ tapes and addressed to Fuyumi. Written in the sender’s address was the Hawks Hero Agency in Fukuoka.

Truth be told, Fuyumi expected something like this to happen and had an inkling of what the contents of the box would be. Although it was unintentional, a pang of guilt remained within her mind for making him feel dejected during their long-awaited dinner date. When she arrived home that night, she did her research on Hawks’s merchandise and found out they were some of the most sought-after and top-selling products. The ones she had her eyes on would be a challenge to obtain. She was planning to hunt for a few, but if her hunch were correct, it would seem he had beaten her to it. He was a man who was too fast, she had to agree.

She transferred the box to her room and sat on the tatami. With its size, she believed it would take a while to get to each item Keigo included. Carefully, she unsealed it and was welcomed by the sight of bubble wrap—lots of it. Her suspicions were confirmed; the package was filled with Pro Hero merchandise—all of them the Wing Hero’s. They came in different shapes and sizes, and several of them even had their own boxes.

Fuyumi picked a random box and gasped. It was one of the items she was planning to scour the shops for: a Hawks Nendoroid. Beside it was a Hawks Pop! Vinyl Figure, a prize figure, and another box which had a shiny ‘limited edition’ sticker in front of it. He sent her a set of socks, too. She couldn’t decide if the pair based on the colors of this hero costume or the pair with red wings as its pattern was the cutest. There was also an oversized t-shirt with the characters for ‘Fierce Wings’ in front and an illustration of red wings at the back. In a smaller container, she came across various rubber keystraps, a few acrylic standees, and other small trinkets. The item that stood out the most to Fuyumi and made her laugh was the Hawks chibi plush toy, which she recognized was from the same line as the Edgeshot one she received from her students.

If anyone saw these, she had no doubt they would take her to be a diehard Hawks fangirl, but Fuyumi found she wouldn’t mind it. As Keigo told her last time, she was more than that—she was his girlfriend. The memory of him stating it with such conviction made butterflies flutter inside her stomach.

Soon, Fuyumi was down to the final product in the package which was a long black rectangular box. She untied the ribbon, lifted the lid, and set them aside. Cushioned inside it was a single crimson feather.

“A quill?” she murmured, twirling it between her thumb and index finger in scrutiny. “Wow, it looks so realistic!”

The quill, however, was untapered and unprepared for use. Perhaps, this product was one of those ‘do-it-yourself’ projects? Upon double-checking the package, though, she found no ink pot to pair it with. Even so, she had no complaints, especially since these were gifts from Keigo. Confused, she typed the words ‘Hawks Quill’ on an online search engine but found irrelevant results. Did Keigo send her a product sample to try out in exchange for an honest review?

Unless…

Fuyumi raised the feather in her hand closer to her face and blinked.

Would he really do something like that? She mulled over the question for a moment, her cheeks setting aflame when she came to the conclusion. He would.

“Can you hear me?” she whispered into the feather, suddenly feeling silly, “Or maybe not?”

The vane close to her lips swayed. It tickled her cheek the way his finger would when he caressed her face.

“Keigo, I just wanted to say thank you,” she paused, certain he was able to sense her, at the very least, “See you soon.”

Before cold feet could set in, Fuyumi pressed a soft and quick kiss to the feather. Her heart raced as she rushed to return it to the box. Overtaken by shyness, she covered her face with her hands and turned the other way, wondering if he felt it.

Endeavor and Hawks made their way to the entrance of the Hero Public Safety Commission. They teamed up for a short mission a few days ago and were back to report to the higher-ups.

Hawks, who had been chatting incessantly about pigeons, stopped in his tracks all of a sudden, causing him to lag behind.

Endeavor had grown used to Hawks’s odd behavior and antics, but he was, nevertheless, still vexed. He spun around and snapped his fingers in front of the younger hero’s dazed and flushed face. Hawks practically had hearts in his eyes, and he had spread his wings without realizing it.

What a distasteful sight, Endeavor thought. “What are you staring into space for?! Focus, boy! We are going to an important meeting!”

“I can’t.”

“And why the hell not, you fool?”

“I just got a kiss from Fuyumi.”

“What does that have to do with—” The words Hawks uttered registered in Endeavor’s mind. “Fuyumi?”

“My girlfriend.”

“You got a what from who? Which Fuyumi are you talking about? Answer correctly, or else!”

“I just got a kiss from my girlfriend…” Still in a daze, the gravity of the situation failed to strike Hawks’s mind. If it did, he didn’t seem to mind it much, having the nerve to smile at Endeavor as he continued, “Todoroki Fuyumi.”

The flames on Endeavor’s mask and hero costume flared. He grabbed the lovestruck Hawks by the collar and roared, “WHAT?!”

Notes: I wrote this because of what happened in Chapter 303. If you know, you know! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

I hope this made you laugh—or smile, at least. Thank you for reading!

BNHA Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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charlthotte · 4 years ago

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Breaking Through the Iron Wall - Aone Takanobu x Reader

Chapter 3

Compared to my last school, Date Tech High was much more modern, since my old school was a traditional Japanese structure. However, this grand new change wasn't that unwelcome to me. It looked like a school that you'd find on your television. Weeks ago, I thought this change would be rather daunting to me - but meeting someone who already felt quite trustworthy was a pleasant little surprise.

Rifling through my bag, I managed to locate my timetable and presented it to Aone. He took it - softly - from between my fingers, the same delicate touch that was careful not to hurt anything, even the paper. My eyes laid fixed on the floor, giving him enough time to scan my timetable, when I thought the time I had given him was adequate enough, my eyes flicked back up to his face; only to see the left side of his lip curl up ever so slightly. Something about that timetable must have made him feel a little bit happier than normal. A few more seconds passed until I realised that I was staring straight at him. Quickly snapping out of that state, I asked, "Do we have any classes together?" His eyes met mine, and nodded, that curled lip not leaving his face for even a split-second. "How many?" I inquired. He then proceeded to turn the timetable to face me and pointed at nearly every single box on it. A smile of relief soon laced itself onto my face, it seemed that we were in the same class, that news couldn't have been anymore welcome in my ears.

With a swift gesture from his hand, he beckoned for me to follow him, first taking me to the science laboratory, smartly placed on the ground floor. Mathematics was next, followed by modern Japanese, History and then Homemaking. Briefly, I paused in my tracks, quick to jot down the classrooms locations, so I wouldn't get lost when having to navigate the school solitaire. For the remainder of the first two periods, I followed Aone's gargantuan strides - almost trailing behind him like a lost puppy. All that whilst also scribbling down a rough diagram of the school's architecture, but without a ruler, it was pretty tough. The first lesson that I actually would be attending was social studies, entering that classroom was absolutely daunting to say the least, seeing all of those people staring at me as if I was fresh meat practically made my spine shiver. Unlike the students, the teacher held a warm smile upon their mouth. Aone filed in right behind me and took his assigned seat. Introducing myself to the class wasn't any less frightening, all the students faces were barren. All except for one boy in the very back corner with a scheming smirk plastered across his face. He had fawn-brown hair, neatly swept across his forehead. From surveying him quickly, I noticed he had the same volleyball club bag as Aone, but what was he smirking at me for?

I was then instructed to take my seat, but since my luck had been running dry that day - the seat I took was directly behind Aone and to the left of the boy with the smirk. And of course that was the only free seat in the room. Soon after the teacher turned their back, the smirk leaned further towards myself - his arms folded in what you could call a playful manor. "So...", he propositioned, his smirk growing even larger, "What were you and Aone doing together that would cause you to be this late to class?" His eyebrow raised, as if he was trying too hard to come off as intimidating.

"Nothing." I blurted, trying not to give him the entertainment he was thirsting after.

"Are you sure?"��He grinned, his expression becoming comical to a point that it was comparable to a child trying to be funny.

"Nothing." I repeated, "It's just a long story."

If it was possible for his expression to become even more cartoonish, he retorted. "Oooooh, how interesting. Do tell me more!"

"Oh just shut up." My words flew back in his face in quite a curt fashion, seemingly wiping the ungodly smirk from his face, even by just an inch.

"Of course, whatever you say your highness. Your wish is my command." He slumped back in his chair, seemingly defeated that I didn't have more of a dramatic reaction to his given topic of conversation. His eyes shifted back to the lesson, the whole reason we were there in the first place. In doing the same, I came to realise how much of a mountain the man in front of myself was. Something... Seemed off about him, his whole body was tensed, tensed so tightly I thought he may explode. Had he been listening to my 'conversation' with the grimace sat to my right? I couldn't imagine having to be on a team with that creature.

Whilst taking notes from the teacher's verbosity, it occurred to me how difficult it would have been to see the board - seeing as though Aone's iron wall was completely blocking my view. I attempted to shift around in my seat to try to identify the words on the board, but trying to peak around him was a completely failed quest. I thought maybe Aone had maybe heard me shifting around in my chair, and he proceeded to duck down in his seat, to the point where his chin was close to touching the desk. I whispered an almost inaudible 'thanks' to him to show my gratitude, he again, took notice of that and nodded his head, this time; as if to say 'no problem'. The rest of the lesson went by pretty smoothly, even if Aone was in a pretty difficult position to write comfortably in.

After the bell rang to signify the third period ending, everyone packed their bags as the teacher dismissed us. With barely a foot out of the classroom threshold, the grimace man poked his head into my personal space once again, this time, however shifting inside of Aone's business. "So who's this fresh new face that you've been hanging around with, huh Aone?" He inquired, that infuriating smirk returning to his face one again.

Aone glared at him, clearly annoyed, "Futakuchi." He growled, compelling the grimace to shut his forsaken mouth. Finally, there was a name to put to this creature of the underworld. Life with him around could be called some level of 'interesting'.

The next two periods were also ones I shared with Aone and the grimace that was Futakuchi. Thankfully, this time - Aone didn't have to bow down for me to simply see in front of him. Looking down at my timetable, I clocked that my last lesson was physical education, for one part I was excited due to the fact I loved to run around, sewing chaos into almost every sport I played. The factor I didn't quite enjoy was that neither Aone or Futakuchi shared that lesson with me. Deciding to not be so gloomy, I realised that it would be a perfect opportunity to meet new people, but that was a given with starting a new school. I waved farewell to Aone and the grimace, sighing at the unfortunate news of having to see his face again.

After, changing into the school's sport uniform, I entered the gym - half expected to be crushed by the competitive type, but to my surprise, a few people acknowledged my entrance and smiled. Quite different than the first interaction some people gave me. Perhaps the one that stood out the most was a girl with her sleek, black hair neatly compiled into a bun, her smile was much larger and warmer than the others. She made her way over to me - however her pace was more that of a soft charge, slowing down just enough to not bombard her body into mine. "Hi! I'm Fuse Hiroko! It's really nice to meet you, you must be new here! What's your name?" She rambled, each word hurtling out like cannon fire. She really was a fiery ball of energy.

"Hey, I'm (L/N) (F/N), nice to meet you too, Fuse." Her inviting demeanour practically commanding me to smile back.

"Just Hiroko is fine, we're all friends here (Y/N)!" I guess formalities weren't that much of a big deal to her. Suddenly, she started beckoning to another girl whose presence seemed a lot less forward than Hiroko, she simply stuck her hand out for a handshake.

"Shinsato Rea." She spoke in a monotonous voice, not taking the time for any pleasantries.

I greeted her with my name after hers, and she gave a more unenthusiastic handshake, those girls were really polar opposites.

The three of us bundled together for the rest of the lesson, Rea hardly spoke a word that wasn't a complaint, whereas - Hiroko remained as giddy and excited as ever. Even after the lesson had finished and we were getting changed she practically stayed glued to me, with Rea closely shuffling behind her. She practically begged me for my phone number and after a few seconds, her begging made me cave in. She even sneaked Rea's number with hers so that she wasn't left out. We walked out of the changing rooms, Hiroko still bombing me with question after question, each I answered obediently; nearly feeling drained by her constant output of happiness.

On the other side of the path, stood Aone with his eyes fixed upon me. Smiling as I greeted him, I proposed the question, "Do you know of any clubs I could join?" He shook his head in defeat, but then stood statuesquely in a state I could infer to as thought, time passed and his eyes eventually widened, as if he had hit an epiphany. Once again, he gestured for me to follow him, his strides still beating the ground and an immense pace. Confusion filled my head as to where exactly we were headed, the confusion quickly lifted when we arrived at another gym. Peeking inside the building, I saw about a dozen boys setting up volleyball nets. As confused I was, I was strikingly intrigued by the new opportunity.

#aone #aone takanobu #aone x gn!reader #aone x reader #aone takanobu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x reader

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therealromewrites · 4 years ago

Text

Wake up Parker! Chapter One: Procrastination

Relationship: Peter Parker x Tall Older Reader (Peter is 22 and Reader is 26/27)

Warnings: None

Word Count Total: 2069 (This Chapter)

Tagged: @bggerbtch

Summary: Peter Parker is a student in the city of Brooklyn. He’s lazy, spoilt and he procrastinates a lot. He meets a woman named (Y/N), She’s recently moved to Brooklyn for an independent life. Something Peter is fascinated by. Over the course of a few months, Peter needs to realise that he has to grow up and become responsible for his life.

WAKE UP PARKER! MASTERLIST

“Prepare profit and loss statements after taking into account the following adjustments.”

Peter blinked his eyes and re-read the question in his economics text book. Taking a sip of coffee from his spider-man mug.

“Prepare profit and loss statements after taking into account the following adjustments. Number one: Returns outwards seven thousand dollars were wrongly included in sales.”

Peter now understood the question, as he took his pen and started writing some semblance of an answer. However, his mind started to wander and he drew an arch, connected to another arch and soon he had managed to create a decent looking Homer Simpson on page. Peter smiled and marked it with an ‘A+’ before leaning back and staring into the ceiling. Peter wanted to go to sleep when an annoying ring sounded from his phone.

He picked it up to see an alarm for twelve a.m. reminding Peter to study. Peter sat up properly at his desk and set his phone aside. He went back to read the question.

“Returns outwards seven thousand dollars were wrongly included in sales. In sales. Included in sales.”

Peter’s mind drifted and he wondered if there was a new episode Rick and Morty. He brought his laptop in front of him and searched for Netflix. Clicking onto the link and searching for the show in his recently watched. Peter could hold off studying for a little while and catch up on the show. There was no new episode but he really wanted to watch an old re-run.

He found the episode ‘Total Rickall’ and switched it on. He smiled and enjoyed the episode. Peter started to feel hungry and pushed himself away from his desk. Creeping out his bedroom door and down the stairs to the kitchen. He toasted two slices and added the left over roast chicken with garlic mayo as a filling for his sandwich. He placed it on a tray along with a packet of M&Ms, chips and Reese’s peanut butter cups.

Heading back up to his room, munching on his snacks he turned the TV on to play a bit of the Spider-Man game. After an hour, he got bored and switched off the TV to turn to his Star Wars comic. Flicking through the pages before his phone rang an annoying tune. He got up from the bed and headed to his computer table to see the time was three a.m. Peter sighed and sat down to finish his first question. He felt his eyes droop and he dropped his head onto his arms.

Hours later, Peter could hear repetitive knocks on his bedroom door. A muffled voice kept calling out to him, to wake him up.

“Peter! Wake up!”

Peter groggily sat up, the back of his hair sitting up and the front pressed against his forehead. He felt a numbing pain in his neck and he ruffled his hair. Getting up and limping to his bedroom door. On the other side was his little sister, Morgan. A sprightly ten year old in a black and white striped shirt underneath a light blue denim dungaree dress. She had a tray of breakfast: omelette with buttered toast and a glass of orange juice.

“Morgan, why are you annoying me?”

“It’s seven thirty. Mum said to give you some breakfast before you go for your exam.”

Peter’s eyes widened as he rushed back into the room to start packing his backpack. Notepad, pens, text books.

“Morgan, why didn’t you wake me up sooner?”

A pout settled on Morgan’s face as she stepped into the room and placed the breakfast tray at Peter’s desk table. Turning to face Peter, hands on her hips like a disappointed parent. Well, adopted sibling.

“You said you were going to study all night. I thought you’d be up by now.”

Peter rolled his eyes and managed to pack his bag, leaving it by his bedroom door. He stomped to his cupboard and shrugged off his t-shirt, opting for a blue t-shirt with Captain Caveman on the front. He glanced behind him and spotted dark black jeans by the foot of his bed. Rushing to jump into those, all the while Morgan has been pointing out his mistake.

“I can’t believe you fell asleep. You had four cups of coffee and you still fell asleep. What will you do now? How will you do your exam now, Peter?”

“Have any encouraging words for me Mog? Instead of complaints.”

“Yeah, just try not to fail.”

Peter rolled his eyes and slipped on dark grey socks and black converses. Morgan was trying to be the smart one as usual but Peter won’t stoop to her level. He gets up and snags a toast from his breakfast tray, holding it in his mouth and muffling out.

“You sit here and eat this breakfast. I’m off.”

With that, Peter ran out the room with Morgan wishing him well for his exam. It’ll be fine. Peter was smart, it should be totally easy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was not easy. Peter was beginning to regret leaving studying for the last minute as he constantly flicked his pen between his fingers. The minute hands on the clock going much slower than usual and everyone around him was bent at their desk, jotting down answers to questions he should have known the answer to. Peter glanced down at the exam question, he was stuck on.

‘With reference to the table above, evaluate the potential benefits of increasing expenditure for a new company starting out.’

The question made no sense at all as he read it twice and thrice. Peter sighed, telling himself he should have studied for this exam. The last exam as well. He flicked through his exam papers, noting that he had managed to answer ten questions out of thirty. In regards to the grade system it might be enough to warrant a pass grade. He flicked through, counting the marks for each question before realising that might not be the case.

“You’re never going to do anything, Peter Parker. You’ll definitely fail this exam.” Peter glanced up to see Wanda have the angriest glare towards him. “Because that’s what happens when you don’t attend a single lecture the whole year. It’s what you deserve!”

Was he hallucinating? It definitely seemed like that because he hears Flash’s voice speak up.

“But what do you have to worry about, Parker? Who cares if you fail? Your dad’s Tony Stark. You’ll still be loaded and you’ll still have the best car in this college, right?”

He sees his best friend Michelle turn around and scold Flash for discouraging Peter from succeeding.

“Relax, Pete. Don’t listen to these losers. Don’t worry. I’m your friend and I know that you’re going to pass, like you always do.” Peter smiled and was about to get down and do this exam the best that he can. Michelle always knew what to say. Well, most of the time.

“By the way, where were you last night? I kept calling, why didn’t you answer? Did you read the notes I gave you?”

Peter gave a great sigh at Michelle’s motherly concern but luckily his best friend, Ned came to his rescue.

“Shush Michelle. Can’t you at least let him dream in peace? Pete, I’m in the same situation as you. I couldn’t study last night either. I was with Betty. She was studying economics and I was studying her. All night long.” Ned stared wistfully at Betty before turning back to Peter. “Anyways don’t worry Pete. If we fail, we’ll fail together. We’ve been together since kindergarten. What’s one more year, right? Don’t worry, pal.”

Peter smiled and was about to start writing, when he heard the Professor order everyone to stop. Peter missed his opportunity but at least he could try to pass this exam, as he turned to Ned who had finished scribbling his answer. Ned sent a secretive thumbs up to Peter, before getting up and handing his paper to the Professor.

Two hours after the exam, Peter was hanging out with his friends in the courtyard by the exam hall. He had his camera with him and took various pictures of a squirrel; people talking about the exam. His friends were talking about the exam as well and Peter couldn’t be bothered to think about it. It’s done and out of his head. He noticed Wanda going around to people with an excited gleam on her face. Handing multi-coloured papers to people before she approached Peter’s table. Her smile dropped and you could sense distaste in her voice.

“Tomorrow night. Farewell party. Please turn up for that.” She smiled at everyone else, further encouraging. “There’s food and a DJ. Definitely come.”

She tossed the paper at Peter and strutted away to get more people to come to her party. Peter always felt sour after Wanda’s hatred towards him as he complained to his friends.

“What the hell is Wanda’s problem? I don’t want to go to her farewell party. I bet it’ll be boring anyways.”

Michelle rolled her eyes and knocked Peter’s shoulder.

“Shut up, Peter! We have to go. We might never see these people again. This is it.”

Ned agreed.

“College is over. Where did the last four years go? Life is going to change now. I have to look for a job now.”

“You’re right, there’s a lot to do. I’m gonna go for that internship with Quentin Beck.“

Peter felt proud, they had finally gotten through college and now they were free agents. He noticed Ned fiddle with something in his bag.

"Ned? What’ve you got there?”

Ned jumped as he tried to pack the small box into his bag.

“Nothing!”

“Ned!”

Peter went around and started wrestling Ned for the thing. Michelle simply cupped her face in shame at her two friends fighting like children. Peter managed to overcome Ned as he held the box in the air and sat on the table, between Michelle and Ned.

It was a small blue velvet box and it had a silver ring in it. It had a small pearl as a gem and was wrapped around red silk. Peter’s eyes widened and constantly darted his glance between the ring and Ned. Michelle, having already known the ring, rolled her eyes and took the ring off Peter.

“Ned, What is this?”

“It’s a ring, Peter. Ned bought it for Betty. I think her name’s engraved in there too.”

Ned took the ring back and tucked the small box into his rucksack.

“It’s just the initials that are engraved in it.”

“Ned, you gotta be kidding me.”

“Peter, I love her!”

“Dude, you’re pathetic. Don’t be an idiot. Ned, are you actually going to propose to Betty?”

“We’ve been going out for two years. I think that’s enough time.”

Peter felt Ned was rushing into things with Betty. They knew each other for longer and only recently started dating. That was not enough time but Ned’s a love sick puppy.

“Why are you being so serious, Ned?”

Michelle, who was intently listening to their conversation, knew the answer to Peter’s question. “You know, everyone has to get serious after college. You’ll have to do it too.”

“Right, which is why I’ve made a really serious plan.”

“What?”

“Let’s go and get drunk!”

Michelle and Ned sighed. Peter was the ‘fun friend’. He knew how to get parties started, where to eat and drink. He was never one for serious talks and it didn’t feel like Peter was serious about the future.

“Peter! Be serious!”

“Yeah but I don’t want to be serious right now. We’ve finished our exams today. Who cares about tomorrow? As long as we can have some fun tonight? Come on.”

Peter hopped off the table and swung his bag over his back. Securing his camera, safely into his camera bag. Today was the day to just have fun, relax and enjoy themselves. They could worry about the future another time. Right now was the time to party and it seemed his friends were warming to the idea.

Peter pulled Michelle up and ran out the courtyard. Ned followed behind, pulling along Betty for a crazy filled day. Eating; drinking; shopping for clothes; and playing arcade games. Peter was having the time of his life with his friends. The future was less of a worry and a simple mild concern.

CHAPTER TWO: THE DEAL

#peter parker #peter parker x oc #bollywood #bollywood au #modern au #au #mcu #mcu au #realrome writes #wake up sid #wake up sid!#wake up sid au #peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker tom holland

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undergroundkid · 4 years ago

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12. Don't smile at me

Frostiness was all you knew. Cold aura, snowy landscapes everywhere, crispy steps following you on the streets, and of course – your frozen heart. Stinging thoughts of I am worse than I supposed or it wasn’t worth it at all. Arctic loneliness in the storm of people, sweeping you under the wintry layers of dullness.

Perspectives of spring? Beyond zero.

- Good evening, I have some delivery for your guests!- the courier greeted your coworker, handing her some papers:- Can I leave it here?

- I’m not sure about it – she hesitated with signing the report, looking at you:- Y/N?

- That depends – you answered without excitement, scribbling pointless notes on housekeeping’s documents that you probably shouldn’t:- For whom is it?

- The package is addressed for a dietician company, their worker must be staying here – the man pointed to the big logo on the cardboard box:- As for these..

- Oh! I know! It’s for the new VIP!

This picked your interest.

On his other hand, the courier was balancing an impressive bouquet. There weren’t a lot of flowers, but the long-stem roses were always fancy. It suited the grand quality of the hotel without a doubt.

- He always leaves with flowers, such a gentleman – the colleague sighed dreamily:- I swear I saw his face somewhere.. well-mannered and good-looking, where can I find men like this?

- You don’t really know him – you pointed out, taking the documents from her to sign up. The delivery man chuckled with amusement, wiggling the bouquet before her eyes:

- Ah, so that’s all it takes to catch a young lady’s heart! Maybe I should visit with flowers next time!

- I am afraid our guest has more to offer than this, sir ..!

- Oh, so it’s about money, huh?

- What? I didn’t say that!

- Then what is it?

- You have to meet him to understand! It’s just something special about him..

- Pretty face, then? The young lady is pretty shallow, isn’t she?

- I-no! It’s not-I mean, he’s handsome, but.. wait, are you making fun of me, sir?

While the two exchanged playful banter, you examined the other package; it didn’t have any specific recipient. What a drag, now you will have to formulate some way to find the addressee. Here comes hours of boring deduction, another pile of paperwork, mails to the director’s office..

Or not; small, simple stamp at the bottom sorting out the problem.

- Okay, I will take both – not wasting time, you reached out to the courier, but your coworker interrupted:

- Wait, the roses too?

- Well, obviously.. – her sudden question irking you up, what’s up with all this interest out of blue:- Why would I go up and down when I can do it just once?

- Yeah, but.. you’re always doing everything, Y/N – well, no lie – You can stay, I can deliver it? I mean, flowers?

- Haha, of course, you want to do it – the carrier laughed, wiggling his eyebrows:- Hop into wedding dress along the way!

- Oh you, stop it!

What the hell, your icy ego puffed. Nobody asks questions about Chae’s bizarre reservation, all guests until now are your business, they flipped over your whole daily life, basic virtues, and played your self-esteem like some kind of psychotic game and now you’re supposed to drag another person into this? Good joke.

It’s not about the camaraderie, of course, you don’t give a damn about your coworkers. They could care less about you as well. But this is your reservation, your cursed responsibility; this silly girl doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Charming men? You know how appealing they can be, delightfully inviting – straight to hell.

- Whatever, I will do it – falsing nonchalance, you grabbed the roses and got out from behind the reception desk.

- Y/N, hey! Pretty please, can I do it?

- Geez, stay professional – rolling your eyes, both at her and the irony. The delivery man’s snickering drowned her complaints, but you decided to inform her anyway:

- Besides, I know for whom the other package is for!

It took you some time to get to the fourth floor since the elevator refused to cooperate. Weird, you saw the guests from 209 using it not even an hour ago. When you’ll come back you have to call the technician. Probably also the cleaning lady, the keypad close to grey instead of silver because of the solid dust layer.

Deciding to leave the package first, you knocked at the door with the number 405. Nobody answered after the first knocks, so you tried once more - without success. After a few minutes of standing like a bump, the situation was clear: the room was empty.

You speculated if it would be wise to just leave the box under the door, but decided against it. It was a VIP in the end. You sighed uneasily eyeing the TEAM WONHO imprint, not really looking forward to meeting the depressed athlete again. However deeply buried in numb slush you were, another burden wasn’t something you crave.

The bouquet then; the new reservation, just the next door.

Now you were sure the apartment was occupied. Small light under the entrance along with hushed TV indicated enough. Knocking again, you pondered who will answer. What kind of twisted secret will be hidden this time? How will I be broken for the nonce?

- Oh, hello!

I will be sweetly defeated.

The man standing in the doorway was young, his skin clear without any imperfections, and clothed in simple pants with a patterned blouse. It was evident you pulled him from some work – his hands stained with ink, he even was holding some letters. Despite being engrossed with his task, he didn’t waste time and answered you immediately without any nastiness.

Nonetheless what made you stupidly gawk at him was his hair – in the most wonderful light shade of pink. Someone could dare to call it baby pink, but such phrase was out of the question in the company of man’s long face and sharp nose. Longer strands peeked from behind ears, the ones at the top of a head tousled messily as if someone disarranged it in aggravation; probably the man himself.

What an odd color, you couldn’t help but judge. Such lunacy in grey dailiness.

He blinked at you unevenly, left eye first, right one second later.

Peculiar and cute – almost like an exotic plant in the winter season.

- I came-I mean, sorry to bother you, sir – with fair difficulty, you managed to take a grip of yourself and bow in greeting:- Y/N from reception, at your service, I have..

- Oh, Miss Y/N! – he smiled, face pleasantly gleaming:- It’s so nice to meet you finally!

No; he was fresh air, the first sign of spring.

- .. delivery for-excuse me? I-what do you mean? – similar joyous look took over your expression involuntarily. He was another Chae’s friend, which should alarm you, yet you felt his charms already working your mind.

- I heard so much about you! – he stated excitedly. These words presumably should worry you; instead, you felt delighted, all your layers melting under his sunny persona. You were the one he was waiting for – you, the shady receptionist with doubtful actions in her record.

Not your coworker, the cute girl all guests were always choosing to work with.

Hyungwon’s chuckle arose in the back of your mind, but before you could ponder on it, the stranger came closer to you. All your thoughts that started to flare were abruptly muffled.

- No words could describe you perfectly, though.. – he looked at you like you held all the stars in the sky, then giggled at his own words:- Ahaha, forgive me!

His attitude was unusual. Yes, your guests showed incomprehensible interest in you lately, but this man wore his heart on his sleeve. Such truthful eyes, sincere and full of curiosity – like a child were something new.

- Uh.. thank you, sir? – not sure what to say, you opted for polite gratitude. He shook his head with another laugh.

- I wanted to ask if you came to visit me, but I see you have something that belongs to me, yes?

- Oh! Yes, I believe it’s for you – stunned for a moment at the hint of so-called visit your voice lost its certainty. You handed the bouquet to the man; his smile changed to contemplative at the picture, the radiating positivity forgotten in a matter of seconds. A small gesture, yet enough to make your hair stood in the back of the neck in alarm.

His face changed entirely to grim melancholy. Eyes lost their sparkle, becoming flat and cold.

- Not exactly.. but yes, I’ll take it.

Deciding it’s your cue to leave, you bowed again and stepped towards the stairs. Sensing the change in the air all you wanted was to escape. Intuition was raising your already well-built anxiety. What were you thinking? That was expected, as all of them – men tainted with dark delusions. Just another one who will try to wriggle his way into your head.

- Thank you for the delivery, Miss Y/N! – he called after you, stopping your hasty departure. Whipping your head around, you spotted him still in the doorway. He buried his nose in the roses, inhaling the scent as if looking for some comfort. Exhaling, he opened his eyes to look in your direction, a small grimace that may once be a smile painting his lips.

- I hope we meet soon, whatever you’re ready of course.. since we are quite alike.

You froze motionless, both limbs and face paralyzed. This man was scaring you, his words were scaring you, his implications.. were terrifying you.

- Indeed.. we are. Until then, Miss – he nodded, without even blinking once:- Lee Minhyuk will be waiting for you patiently.

The silence after closing his doors was overwhelming, antagonistically loud in your ears. You clutched your chest, aware of the accelerated heartbeat all of sudden. The unnerving meeting left you startled, chills running down your spine.

He was surely the spring to you, tricky as it is – warming you in sunlight you longed for, then cooling in the wind that still smelled like winter.

Hyungwon did the same to you; he just was more pricky about it. More insults, less warmth. Wait, he said it too – that you’re both the same, which you proved right later on. It would mean a similar fate will be waiting for you one more time. One? Or repeatedly? Will your eyes become creepily dull like his? What exactly does it mean?

You forced your breathing to slow down, trying to crush panic hiding right behind your shoulders. Her unsteady hands clasping your elbows, arms, neck-

Ding, unanticipated strong sound signaled the arrival of the elevator. You looked in disbelief at the silver door at the end of the corridor, torn between inner confusion and incredulity at the machine that wasn’t working hardly a moment ago.

The metal gate opened exposing two men inside; one you already knew, the second unconscious hanging on his shoulder.

- Ah, Miss Y/N – abashed Mr. Hoseok welcomed you, clearly not expecting anyone. He stole a glance at his passed-out companion, then admitted:- Actually, I.. might need your help?

thank you for reading

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#shangri-la fc #my writing #monsta x fanfic #monsta x imagines #monsta x reader #finally #monsta x wonho #wonho imagine #lee hoseok #wonho fanfiction #lee hoseok fanfiction #lee minhyuk #lee minhyuk imagine

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fromkaermorhentolettenhove · 5 years ago

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The Eternity of Bliss - Chapter 2

Previous - Next

Chapter Summary: Happenstances and the process of becoming flatmates

Chapter Rating: G

Words: 2124

AO3

A few days passed with seldom a word from Headquarters.

All Geralt and Jaskier could do was wait, but Jaskier was quickly getting bored. On occasion, he’d pull back the curtains and Trace the area, hoping for some magical trails to appear but either there was nothing to be seen or Geralt snapped the curtains shut in his face.

“The curtains are part of our protection,” he reminded Jaskier. “Keep them open too long and anything could detect us.”

Jaskier glared at him, the blue flames from his eyes flaring momentarily. Geralt only grunted in return, casting another sigil on the curtain before he went back to his paperwork. Knowing better than to fight his host, Jaskier went to his bedroom, once again scanning the bookshelf for anything enjoyable to read.

It seemed that the room Geralt had given to Jaskier was more storage than a place to sleep. Jaskier had climbed over dozens of boxes to get to his bed the first night, greeted by a cloud of dust when he sat down on the mattress. With a few waves of his hand, Jaskier had made the room liveable again and he did his best to not invade Geralt’s privacy, despite his curiosity to dig through everything.

Grabbing a bestiary and a collection of fairy tales from the bookshelf, Jaskier went back to the living room, settling on the couch.

The shuffling of papers and the occasional scratching of Geralt’s fountain pen relaxed Jaskier as he opened up one of the books, noting the worn pages, the small notes scribbled in the margins. Geralt was as studious as he was skilled with his weapons and Jaskier found himself admiring the man, the little things he noticed about the creatures of their world, the biology that fascinated him. Jaskier was soon lost in the pages, somehow learning something new each time despite seeing these creatures all his life.

Time didn’t exist as the two men adjusted in the shared space, the silence that had started out awkward now having turned into something comfortable. Once in a while, Jaskier would look up at Geralt only to find the man already looking at him and the two would immediately turn their attention back to their studies. Jaskier smiled to himself, if only because it was rather amusing. The stoic Geralt unable to look him in the eye.

It was then that there was the sound of crackling and Jaskier whipped his head up, rushing to find his notebook. Geralt dug into his coat pockets as well, urgency and excitement filling the room. There was a message from Triss, a hastily written Meeting at noon on the page.

The two men looked up at each other and then pulled out their pocket watches, noting the time.

“I’ll portal us there,” Geralt said as he put his watch away.

Jaskier nodded his understanding before grabbing his and Geralt’s coats and hats from the stand. Once the two were bundled up, Geralt led them out of the flat and down the street before he cast a portal spell.

Once again, Jaskier was overcome by nausea and he grasped onto the alley wall for balance as Geralt used his magic on the familiar broken door.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, Jaskier was feeling much better despite the people that crowded the way to the stairs. All kinds had been called in from elves to druids and Jaskier could barely keep track of Geralt as he led them to the meeting hall.

The circular room they entered had benches ascending from the center where a podium sat, a stained glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Each level of benches was higher than the one before it, the last set nearly touching the trim that lined where the walls met the top of the room. Jaskier followed Geralt to a spot right in the middle, the two of them some of the first to be seated.

Eventually, others began to trickle in, some Jaskier recognized, a few unfamiliar faces only looking in his direction to give a nod to Geralt. Jaskier figured he’d have to ask Geralt about his relations later, more in awe over how many people he had never come across in his time of being a Tracer. Every seat was filled, indiscernible chatter filling the space around them as they waited for the meeting to start. Jaskier thought to small talk with Geralt but with the stern stare on Geralt’s face, Jaskier stayed quiet.

Yennefer of Vengerberg entered the room then and silence was immediate. Jaskier held his breath, anticipation rising as she observed everyone with a sharp stare. Her gaze stayed on him and Geralt a beat too long, but Jaskier didn’t dare look at Geralt and risk breaking the stillness.

Yennefer took her spot in the center of the room, Triss trailing in shortly after, and cleared her throat to get the attention that was already on her.

“Something from our realm is releasing creatures into the non-magical world,” her voice echoed. “Perhaps as a distraction, perhaps something beyond all of us. All we can do now is take care of the creatures and hope we find out who or what is doing this.”

The room was filled with low murmurs. Jaskier spared a glance towards Geralt, whose face was unreadable as ever.

“If you have a partner already you will stay with them and we will assign you sectors,” Triss spoke up then. “Otherwise, please come to us if you are by yourself once the meeting is through.”

A cacophonous mixture overtook the room then and it took Yennefer casting a spell on herself before booming, “NEXT ORDER OF BUSINESS,” to quiet everyone down.

Jaskier had somehow kept his composure through all of this, forcing down the smile that wanted so desperately to spread on his face. Despite the imminent threat, Jaskier was happy to still be assigned with Geralt. He barely listened to what Yennefer said next, just usual updates, complaints, and the like.

When at last the meeting was over, many rushed out of the room, but Geralt didn’t and so then, neither did Jaskier. Instead, he watched as Geralt and Yennefer stared at each other, as if communicating telepathically. Jaskier shifted, wanting to know what the two were up to, as well as curious to just how much history Geralt and Yennefer had. While he was one to gossip, he never heard about Geralt’s relationships. Maybe he had just ignored it because of his admiration for the man or he was lucky to avoid such drama. Whatever it was, Jaskier was stuck in his own thoughts until Geralt suddenly got to his feet.

Scrambling after him, Jaskier spared a look back at the center of the room to see Yennefer give him a singular nod. Any reasonable response was gone from Jaskier’s mind and he caught up with Geralt until they were out of the building and back into the dirty alley.

“You know Yennefer well?” Jaskier asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

Geralt nodded. “Triss too. I had been with them at one time or another.”

“Oh...with them as in…?”

The look on Geralt’s face said it all and Jaskier knew not to press any further. He tucked his hands in his pockets, glancing at Geralt every so often as they walked to an unknown destination.

“We’re not going home?”

“Thought we could get some food,” Geralt said off-handedly. “Since we may be stuck inside for some time.”

Jaskier hadn’t even thought of that. He continued to follow Geralt into a small market and helped the man pick out vegetables and fruits.

“Could we get some strawberries?” Jaskier came to a halt, beckoned by the ruby red of the fruits.

“Get what you want, I don’t mind.”

With a delighted grin, Jaskier was soon indulging himself in anything that caught his eye. Of course, he made sure to check with Geralt, to make sure he wasn’t overspending, but Geralt didn’t seem to mind. He paid for the items without question and soon the two were portaling back to Geralt’s safehouse.

Once they were in the flat, Geralt’s magic was quick to put the food away, graciously taking coats and hats as well before Jaskier flopped down on the couch.

“What do you think about this whole mess?”

“Not sure yet,” Geralt admitted. “I want to say we can handle it, but something tells me it won’t be so easy.”

“What was the worst you had to deal with on the continent?”

Jaskier knew the stories of Geralt by heart, but now that he had the man here in front of him, he could find out the overlooked details.

“Depends on what you consider the worst,” Geralt shrugged. “A dragon is no easy feat but then, I’d rather not have to deal with a dozen drowners all at once again.”

Jaskier winced at this. He had his fair run-in with creatures of all sorts, but his assigned Hunter took care of them. Once he was no longer needed, Jaskier was allowed to leave, to get out of harm’s way. He wasn’t sure what use he’d be if he were to switch places with Geralt.

“What about you?” Geralt shook Jaskier from his thoughts. “What kinds of things do you do back home?”

“Oh, uh,” Jaskier blushed a little. “Nothing grandiose like you. I study academics, play music. I’m just nothing more than a humble bard.”

“No shame in that. The world would be dull without the arts.”

Jaskier hadn’t expected such a compliment from Geralt. It repeated itself at the back of his mind until a giddy smile spread on Jaskier’s face.

“That’s true. If only others thought the same as you. Perhaps I would’ve been happy without becoming a Tracer.”

“Were you forced into it?” Geralt frowned.

“Oh, heavens no. I do like our work, but there are days when I just want to sit in a meadow, doing nothing but writing songs, playing my lute.”

Geralt nodded, a small smile gracing his face. “Back home, I have a horse. Roach is her name. We traveled all around the continent together. I promised her that once my days of working are over, we could retire on a small farm.”

“Geralt of Rivia on a farm?” Jaskier couldn’t help tease. “Now there’s a song. I shall have to write that down.”

There was a small laugh then before Geralt disappeared into the kitchen. While Jaskier was quite relaxed on the couch, he couldn’t help but want to follow Geralt and so he did, sitting down at the small table and watching Geralt conjure up different spells in the kitchen.

“What age did your color show?” Jaskier watched the golden wisps scatter throughout the cupboards.

“Hm. I think I was six.”

“That young?” Jaskier gaped. “Goodness, I feel silly now. Mine didn’t show up until I was thirteen.”

“They pushed magic on me from an early age,” Geralt leaned against the counter and faced Jaskier. “If I hadn’t gotten my color then, I don’t think I ever would have.”

Jaskier rolled this thought around his head, wondering how rough Geralt’s childhood must have been. He himself had been lucky. While magic was important in his family, he had been given time to work his spells. With a flick of his hand, a small blue butterfly appeared on Jaskier’s hand and he sent it over to Geralt with a small puff.

Geralt caught it in his hands, cradling the magic as he created a golden flower for it to sit on.

“Oh, glad that worked! Most people just wave it away until it becomes dust.”

Jaskier blushed at his sudden honesty. For some reason, it was easy to be himself around Geralt, to open up like he never had before.

“They don’t know what they’re missing then.”

Glancing up, Jaskier watched as Geralt created a small magical bush on the counter for the butterfly to nest in. While the magic would fade in a few hours, it was a picture to behold and Jaskier couldn’t tear his eyes away.

The conversation then remained light as Geralt prepared dinner for them both, a simple meal of vegetables and meat, but delicious all the same. It reminded Jaskier of a meal he once had while traveling back home and he relished in the warm memory.

Again, he and Geralt fell into comfortable silence and Jaskier found himself not minding in the slightest. It was good to have companionship such as this and after the meal, Jaskeir was reluctant to go to his bedroom. He wanted to spend more time with Geralt but eventually exhaustion took over and Jaskier finally crawled into bed.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #indigo's side shitposting #indigo's the eternity of bliss #i'm love them;;;;;;;

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pocketfulofrogers · 6 years ago

Text

The one with all the notes Part 2

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Text messages are far too impersonal for Old School Steve Rogers.

Notes: Thanks for all the love on part 1!

Part 1

When Tony moves you both into the compound, nothing changes. Especially the notes. He gives you keys and badges, but withholds them when you reach out like a greedy toddler.

“No, and I mean it, no sex in the common rooms.” He says with narrowed eyes. Steve gasps, looking thoroughly scandalized. “Not that I’m not thrilled this is finally happening.”

You roll your eyes, snatch them from his hands. “We’ll see.” You tease.

You find the first one after your shower, tucked into the bathroom mirror.

‘I love you -S’

You leave one in return.

‘Next time join me -Y/F/I’

You both limit their locations to your shared room. The last thing you needed was Clint finding a very explicit description of last night’s activities. For the most part, they’re simple and sweet. Little nothings that allow you both to cling to something more normal.

‘I’m attempting waffles. Maybe come supervise before I set a fire?’

‘Reminder! You have a non-optional checkup in medical’

‘I’m making your favorite tonight’

‘You’re beautiful’

‘I got your bow re-stringed.’

‘Have this on by the time I get back and there will be rewards. Sexual rewards’

‘I rented that movie you talked about’

‘Wake me when you get back’

‘Date night. Be there or I’ll send Natasha after you.’

Other times, they’re not so sweet.

‘If I hit my toe on your shield one more time because you’ve just left it in the middle of the room, there will be hell to pay, Rogers.’

‘Couch tonight, no sweet doodle will save you this time’

‘You want to complain about my shield, but let’s talk about how I just face planted because of your bow’

‘I love you, but don’t ever call them sexual rewards again’

‘You left for a week with my favorite shirt and that’s unforgivable’

‘I’ve been up with Tony for 3 days, if you wake me, I may actually end your life’

‘SHIELD STEVE’

‘Do you know what I totally love? Ice cold showers in the morning. If you’re going to use all the hot water at least wake me so I can join you’

‘Set an alarm and get up earlier’

‘Why would I? Your 8 work just fine’

‘I have your beloved shield. Meet me in the training ring. Winner gets to keep it.’

Bets are taken, it turns into an event. Of course, you hand him his ass and spend the next few weeks with it strapped to your arm all day, every day. You also never leave it just lying around, unlike someone.

For the first time since you’ve met Steve Rogers, he uses a gun. You try not to think about how much it turns you on. Natasha certainly has complaints the next morning.

When you finally agree to give it back, only because he was in near tears, he designates a specific spot for it. You never hit your toe again.

One night you come home, head straight for the kitchen. On the fridge beneath a matte black magnet is a simple sketch of you sleeping. You run your finger along the curve of your body, smile fondly at the memory. When you pick it up to add to your growing collection, a separate page falls.

‘Ok, yes I did eat the last of your ice cream, BUT I will get you more -S’

You smile. You had already received something far better than your favorite pint. Still, you pen your own note. Steve comes home soon after, hopes he’s beaten you back. He catches sight of the light-yellow page and is momentarily relieved. Until he gets closer.

‘Come to bed with a pint and a spoon or don’t come at all -Y/F/I’

Steve regrets leaving one in a common space when in the morning you awake to a folded, crisp white page taped to your door. ‘Lovebirds’ scribbled on the top.

‘Ya’ll act like cell phones aren’t a thing. -Sam’

You drop one in Sam’s gym bag while he’s distracted soon after.

‘Don’t be fucking rude -Y/F/I’

That’s when the war starts. Tony receives multiple requests for notepads and his pens keep disappearing. He can’t tell for sure if the two are connected.

‘Pick a better alarm sound if you’re going to snooze it 8 times every day -C’

‘Whoever ate my last brownie, check in with medical. Also? Stop eating my shit -N’

‘I’m cooking tonight, submit your requests now -Y/F/I’

‘Who’s rank ass shoes -S’

‘Steve, language!! -C’

‘Sam, we talked about this. You’re SW -S’

‘Why can’t you be SR’

‘Because we were here first -Y/F/I’

‘Ok, first, rude. Second, I want the Y/N special -SW’

Later that day you, Natasha, and Clint are playing cards. Sam and Steve are watching a documentary. There’s a rustling and a thud from the other room.

“Why are there so many notes on my shoes?” Tony yells out. Not a single person in the vicinity can hold their laughter.

You and Steve still leave your sweet ones around your room, but you’ve never been one to not participate in shenanigans.

‘Tequila and bad decisions on the rooftop -Y/F/I’

‘Currently dying, please bring soup and gatorade -SW’

‘Hope the mission went well, ice packs in the freezer, doc is on call -N’

‘Out of milk -C’

‘You’re turn to go grocery shopping, can’t pass it off to Y/N again -S’

‘Where did Tony hide his pens, I’m low on ink -SW’

‘They’re locked behind a retinal scanner -Y/F/I’

‘Why? -C’

‘He’s mad he’s not a part of the fun -N’

‘I will evict you all -T’

You’re sure to leave Tony a little note on his desk every time you catch him out of the lab. A few months later, he starts leaving one in the same spot you leave his to surprise you. You don’t tell anyone but Steve about them. It might be silly, but you hold his jokes and praises close to heart and keep them tucked beneath the sketches in your box.

After the accords when you’re on the run, the two of you keep it going. You write on what you have. Hotel stationary, old receipts, newsletters. You don’t often move without each other these days so the notes are shorter, simpler, slightly somber.

‘I will follow you anywhere’

‘I miss the shield’

‘I miss our apartment’

‘I don’t want to lose who I am’

‘You’re a good man, I’ll never let you lose sight of that’

‘I love you’

‘Tony will forgive you’

‘Rhodey wasn’t your fault’

‘I love you’

‘You’re still a hero’

‘Bucky will be okay’

‘I love you’

You keep them all now. Every single piece. They don’t question your need to keep the shoebox with you, to take it with each move. They’re all a little different now.

You’d never tell Steve, but you flip through them often. Run your fingers along inked lines from simpler times. Pieces of the home you once had.

On the nights you cry over them, Steve holds you close. Rocks you to sleep with images of picket fences and family dinners. Those days you wake with a sketch on your pillow and the smell of bacon and eggs in the air.

He gives you all the slivers of peace you need to survive, you hope you do the same for him.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #marvel #mcu #avengers #falcon #sam wilson #black widow #natasha romanoff #hawkeye #clint barton #iron man #tony stark

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yourstateofdreaming · 6 years ago

Text

The Favor [Gwilym Lee x Reader] Part IV

Masterlist | Gwilym Lee Masterlist

<<Previous | >>Next Part

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, also again: daddy-daughter relationship (SORRYNOTSORRY)

A/N: so... I have a chapter that kinda goes before this...it was meant to be part three but I found it too long and containing no Gwil, I’ll post that later so you can read more if you’d like and get a better understand of the story. Enjoy!

She picked up Roger’s clothes from the dry cleaner, got his vitamins from the pharmacy, picked up a package from his P.O. Box and then stopped at his favorite coffee place before arriving at the Taylors’ home a quarter to 12.

“Morning!” She called out from the entrance with her hands full.

The usual odd chorus of voices let her know that Tigs and Lola were here, Sarina in the studio and Roger upstairs.

A regular Wednesday for the Taylors.

The two blondes ran out from the kitchen to say hello, staring at (Name) with expectations of something showing in their gleaming eyes.

“Hi, what’s up?” She gave a puzzled smile.

“We heard a rumor from Dad,” Lola teased without hesitation.

Tigs giggled.

“We heard somebody from dad’s movie might be into you?” Lola hinted. “What’s with this Will guy?”

All blood rushed to her feet. She cleared her throat and started going to the kitchen.

“Gwilym.” (Name) corrected her. “He’s,” she did not look back or over her shoulder, “a friend!”

She felt embarrassed. If they knew...if only they knew what had happened just the night before. She reprimanded herself in silence, she should have not done it, but she gave in. Who could deny it? The two had chemistry, they knew each other and it was about time... if only it wasn’t such an inappropriate relationship. Why did she let him stay last night?

“(Name)?” Roger greeted her with a peck on the cheek and an empty cup of what must have been tea in his hand.

“Hi!”

She could not help but come off as super excited.

“So, busy day, Rog! Busy, busy day! Have you got your shoes on? Let’s go!” She clapped at Roger and waved at his daughters. “Sorry, girls! Come on, Rog! Car’s waiting outside!”

“Kitten...” Roger followed, although complaining felt like the natural response to (Name)’s behavior, “later, girls!”

While (Name) sat with Roger in the back of the car, he kept staring at her. Roger was trying to figure her out, there was something about her this morning that gave him an odd vibe. It wasn’t until she shifted in her seat and looked to the side that he thought of it.

“Kitten, do you have a boyfriend?”

(Name)’s brows skyrocketed up her forehead, or so it felt like. She smirked at her boss, smart-assing the man without a gram of shame.

“Why? Are you trying to hook up with me now, Rog?”

The drummer laughed, throwing his head back for a second.

Roger would never try such a thing, she was Tigs’ age and even if she was a bit older, the way she got along with everyone in the Taylor family made her almost a family member too; Roger knowing her dad and that (Name) was an only child, he felt somewhat like a father to her half the time.

“Well, do you?” Roger insisted.

(Name) shrugged, she took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.

“Not really.” She watched Roger’s brow furrowed. “No,” she insisted. “Maybe.”

Roger did not need to say anything, (Name) gave in and told him about some guy. She liked him but she said that because of their jobs it would be too difficult to be together, as a side note she did find other guys attractive.

“So, it’s not set on stone, kitten. Take your chances!” Roger advised her, patting her knee. “And cover up the neck, dear.”

(Name)’s hand flew to her neck and she used her phone to see. A love mark showing just above the collar of her shirt. The man sitting on the opposite side of the car smirked as she fidgeted with a scarf in her handbag.

“Shit...” she mumbled.

The drummer laughed at her and seeing as the car was moving through the streets a bit faster than usual, he chose to talk to his young assistant about a certain invitation his manager received earlier that morning.

Peter (Y/L/Name) was a well-known wildlife photographer, his successes in art brought him to South Africa, where he worked with Save The Elephants and other organizations. (Name)’s father was a real animals’ rights activist, his job teaching about the world around us; it was odd to see him with his daughter, who he loved but with whom he would only spend time on rare occasions ever since she started uni. In fact, Roger could recall seeing his young assistant with her father only once, while at an event much like the one he had been invited to.

Brian was pressuring Roger to RSVP, he was fascinated with Peter’s work, he and Anita had already confirmed their assistance to P. (Y/L/Name)’s exhibition.

“Are you going?”

She looked up from the agenda, the day of the exhibition was one of her rare days off, but she would not mind seeing Roger, which she still sort of planned on doing.

“Do I have time?”

Roger leaned over her shoulder and read the bright orange note saying “Fend for Yourself Day - Kitten’s Day Off’”. He put his index finger up in the air.

“Ah! I guess I’m seeing you there!” He winked.

She nodded and scribbled something down on a different page, mentioning to Roger that she would arrange for a car to pick them up at a decent time so he could be fashionably late to the event, just enough to be classy and not as much to make Brian anxious.

“Hey, Rog?” She wondered when they arrived at the label’s building.

The older man walked out of the vehicle with his sunglasses in his hands and put them on as soon as he heard her, mumbling a “yeah”.

“How come you always call me Kitten?” She giggled as she finished her question.

It was pure curiosity, (Name) never had a nickname before. Her father would always call her by her name or say “child”, so she was not used to the affectionate sound of “Kitten” when Roger first started using it a while after she started working for him.

“Well, you see...” Roger put an arm around her shoulders and they walked together as the car drove away to the parking lot. “I realized you are not quite as tall as my Tigs, so what’s smaller than a Tiger?” He brought his hand out, waving it in the air as he spoke.

(Name) shrugged, arched brow and pout on her mouth.

“I dunno,” she straight up said the first thing that came to her mind, “a cub?”

Roger stopped walking and the silence grew between them for a second before he shook his head and repeated the word “no” over and over, almost chanting it.

“A Kitten, (Name)! A Kitten! Has a better ring to it too!”

They waited for the lift and once the shining silver doors opened, (Name) walked in first, followed by Roger.

“You really are your father’s daughter...” He commented.

Having spoken to the man a few times before, he knew where her previous comment was coming from.

For days, (Name) tagged along with Roger, she never got to sit inside the offices where the Rock Idol had his meetings with producers and important people, she would only be outside, at the ready with a notebook and a pen; agenda in the pocket. She knew how to do her job, she did it quite well and had received no complaints from Roger or his family ever.

It was indeed, during her last day shooting for the movie that she had the chance of chatting with Gwil. He had asked, of course, he was curious about the assistant; it seemed Roger could get along just fine without her but she also made everything move faster, with more efficiency, and for sure by more modern means.

“Oh, I graduated from business school a bit early. Dad was in South Africa, I needed a job and thought, why not start at the bottom?” She explained, “I didn’t think I would be Roger Taylor’s assistant, that sort of happened thanks to my dad’s manager.”

Gwilym’s expression, now that he was in his Brian costume, was soft as usual, although upon hearing her his brows shot up in the funniest of manners and left (Name) giggling like a school girl. It might have been the beautiful contrast of the dark wig and Gwilym’s blue eyes, she felt weak in the knees.

“Your dad’s manager?” He wondered, his hands on his hips, the pants provided by the costume department flattering his long legs.

She made the mental note that Gwil was slightly thicker than Brian, but she was not quite sure and thought asking about it would only serve to fuel the rumor going by among the crew that there was something romantic going on between the two of them.

(Name) blushed, she never bragged about it, her last name would oddly come up in conversation and even if it did, it never caught much attention - unless she was speaking to a wildlife enthusiast or an animals’ rights activist.

“Uh,” she felt her voice going quieter as she moved her lips to form the words, “yeah, Peter (Y/L/Name)”

It was not shame what overtook her. She loved her father; he had fought to give her everything she had, and he had struggled to build his own career from scratch - not an easy thing, especially since he raised her on his own. What (Name) felt was embarrassment. Now she was under the impression that she should have mentioned it sooner.

“Oh, he’s having an exhibition next month! Right?” Gwil reaction was the usual, a small smile appearing on his face when she nodded.

He pulled her sparkling black jacket closed over her chest once the cast was called in to get another take.

“Well, darling Fake Wife of mine...” he called and (Name) rolled her eyes at the lame joke the two had, “on with the show!”

(Name) made a terrible attempt at playing the air guitar, earning a laugh from Gwil, who stood the closest to see and embarrassingly enough, a cheer and chuckle from Brian and Anita.

“Take off the wig, Gwil, you’re being replaced!” Joe yelled from another part of the set at what was going to be Freddie’s crazy house party.

“Oh, shut it you!” She yelled back, grabbing Gwil’s face with as much delicacy as possible to avoid ruining whatever makeup he had on, Gwilym had to lean down so she could play with his face, “this is the face of a man! A man whose parents have some explaining to do!” She turned to Gwil, “are you sure Brian’s not your dad? You look so much like him...I’m doubting this.”

At (Name)’s pout, Gwil smiled. He shook his head as he pulled back and put his arm around her shoulders to go back to their marks.

For the entire time they were there, Anita was hypnotized by Gwilym, she took pictures with him and gave him the sweetest compliments, at which the actor could only blush and look around for help. Brian’s wife also told him funny stories about a younger version of her husband; all the while Ben, Joe and (Name) kept trying to stay out of trouble but somehow still causing it, of course. Rami was the only one of the group who kept it quite professional, he was the leading man and nobody would hold it against him if he was in character more than he was himself.

“Hey,” Anita, grabbed (Name)’s hand and held it absentmindedly while she spoke, oblivious to what she was about to do, “Brian has been teaching Gwil how to use his camera, why don’t you bring him to your father’s exhibition?”

The small woman looked up at (Name) and then at Gwil. She did not know what to say; she had already made plans to bring someone else...someone she had been seeing for some time. Gwilym noticed something was happening in her mind and opened his mouth to excuse himself only to be interrupted by the brunette.

“I think my dad would love to teach you a thing or two as well.”

“It’s a date!” Ben yelled.

The blonde gave Gwil a pat on the back and exchanged a look with Joe and Rami, all three of them grinned.

Next One >>

Tags: @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl @naturalswifty89 @itsametaphorbriansblog @i-want-to-break-free-39 @stomp-stomp-clap

#ben hardy #gwilym lee #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee x reader #brian may #queen #roger taylor #joe mazzello #rami malek #bohemian rhapsody #bohrhap #the favor #your state of writing

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peachhoneii · 8 years ago

Text

Apsis

Summary: Six months later, Donald learns to survive. Word Count: 4215 AO3

He knew his sister like he knew his own mind, or he thought he did, and that’s the problem isn’t it?

Donald Duck deserves the moon, stars, and sun for what he’s done for those boys, and you know what...if it was offered he probably wouldn’t accept it. Probably.

As a young duck, Donald relished in the unknown. As a young duck he relished in the unknown. Creatures of archaic origins and Beagle Boys crunched under his temper. This was an appropriate method in approaching a life like his. He had known pretty and fickle women. He still felt the sting of her slap on his right cheek as she sped off on her unicycle. Zealous protectiveness was a hindrance to his adventurous lifestyle.

He fought the Beagle Boys until his knuckles were bruised bloody. A frozen kraken tentacle was preserved for a late night snack in his freezer. Donna's scent, the touch of her feathers, and the sound of her voice were recalled in fond abstract. It was how most old flames existed in memory.

Donald handled it. He handled it and came out on top. He handled it and came out on bottom.

All it had taken to reverse twenty-five years of reckless, impulsive, and heartbreaking behavior was a lunar goddess' spear, a missing twin sister, and three, suddenly orphaned, toddlers.

Della sold him his greatest misadventure, and what she left behind too tiny, too fragile, and indescribably heavy for him to handle on his own.

Two weeks passed.

Two weeks was not long enough to declare her dead. It would take the DPD and FBI seven years to officially declare Della Duck dead, when none of her living relatives were able to provide evidence to the contrary.

But it was still early for Donald to presume her as such. It had happened in a moment, a flash, and pebbles stood by in its wake. He didn't need more to declare anything else.

Two weeks passed, but not in silence.

For two weeks journalists hovered near the mansion, as close as they could get without welding the iron gates. For two weeks investigators, police officers, and FBI agents hounded them for information. She had been a decorated officer of the United States Air Force. Her uncle was the richest duck in the world.

Donald watched the commotion as if he were in the movies. He sat and watched, unable to alter any scene, unable to do anything. When asked, he provided information. His information was truthfully scant.

Once his inefficiency was realized, nerves compelled his stomach to lurch in anger. The lead investigator winced at the vomit staining his leather shoes. Donald didn’t apologize. He wasn’t sorry.

Two weeks extended to a month, a month into six months. There were social worker visits. An innocuously kidnapped judge made the final verdict. Paperwork needed to be signed. Living in the mansion wasn't an option, and when he slammed the door, when he gathered the last of their toys Della had left at the mansion, Donald didn't look back.

He drove his car to Hookbill Harbor. He made home there, and that's where home was. He shuttled away every little thought, every little complaint, but he couldn't forget a matter of unattended business.

"You can't do it alone, Donald." Goofy wasn't an expert, but was the closest to an expert he could afford. Mickey wasn't available. Not that he wouldn't come. If Donald asked, he'd be at the house boat in ten minutes, and Mouseton was a forty-five minute drive. His willingness wasn’t a question.

Donald needed endurance. He needed someone to handle it, and Goofy could.

"Well, yeah, I have." Goofy swaddled Huey in a red blanket, gently rocking him back into his cot beside Dewey and Louie. He usually sensed when the hand holding his spine was about to release. It was the trigger to set him off, but Huey stayed quiet, sucking his thumb as Goofy tucked him in.

"You don't have to." Donald stared down at his coffee. Hazelnut cream and sugar lightened the shade, and on the side, the mug read I Love Utah. He couldn't bring himself to drink despite the clinging bags underneath his eyes, "And besides, Maxie will be hanging with Peg and Pete, and you said Grandma Duck was willing to babysit."

"Yeah, Goofy, Grandma is ninety-seven years old.”

“And doesn't look a day over 53."

“I don’t have to go. Scrooge’s paying the rent as far as I know.” The warmed coffee nipped at his bill, “Plus, he probably owns the complex by now.”

“It isn’t like he’s going to take her things out, is he? And didn’t you say you needed to get more of the boys’ things?”

Donald groaned, “Then I’ll buy more things, Goofy.”

“With what money?” Where others would’ve stopped in horror as Donald flinched, Goofy continued without much thought. His coffee mug swished around, spilling drops on the napkins on the table, “Free baby stuff is free baby stuff, and it ain’t really free, it’s theirs. And you’re going to need a lot of it.” He nodded sagely, gulping his coffee down without pause.

Admitting fault was easy when it was Mickey, "I suppose you're right." It was easier to forget how practical Goofy was.

“Maxie hasn’t been put down for his nap yet, and I reckon he’ll be napping by time I get back, if Pete has anything to say about it.”

Goofy finished his mug and dipped into the sink. Staring at his own, Donald realized his mug wasn’t even half-empty.

St. Canard was where Della F. Duck stationed following her honorable discharge from the United States Air Force. Grebe Grove was located in St. Canard’s Seventh District. Far from the hood, far from the suburbs; it was practically smacked in the middle of the metropolitan madness. It was how Della liked it.

Donald understood, or he thought he did. Della's apartment was more of a base than a home. Her pride was the red tape surrounding her infinite admiration and affection for Scrooge. It was the reason why she refused to move in with him despite the advantages it offered.

Her reasons didn't phase Donald when he knocked on the landlord's door. Those intrusive thoughts didn't bother him as the landlord handed him a copy of the keys. These formal, proper, and mundane tasks were tedious to her, and would've bored her to tears, or possibly death. Whichever one came first, she used to say.

Donald asked about rent. “Oh, no, we’ve already received a more than sufficient amount.” That explained things. What about her P.O. Box? “It does need to be re-freshened. No one has stopped by to clean out the junk mail.” Calling the post office made it to the middle of his list, and he didn’t feel up to reminding them if they’d forgotten. He certainly didn’t want to explain the circumstances. He wasn’t sure how well communications were with Duckburg and St. Canard. He didn’t intend to find out.

He wanted to clean the essentials.

He hadn't visited in over a year, and this meant he couldn't recall with clarity what the apartment was like before. Plastic toys were stacked to the sofa's side in the living room. Plastic toys were littered in front of the television. A small table stood in the kitchen, four seated. A stale oceanic freshness carried through the air vents.

Goofy came behind him with the totes, buckets, and bags, "Gawrsh, looks cleaner than I thought."

"Hey!"

"Della wasn't a cleaner, Donald." He started with the living room, picking and choosing the toys on the floor, "Someone got here before us. Who'd you think?"

"Cleaning crew Scrooge hired." Scrooge would spend, occasionally, if it meant squashing his guilt, or that was what passed through Donald's mind as he went to the bedroom.

Goofy was right. She cleaned the boys' room, made sure every single item was in its place, and he expected that. His sister was a cluttered minded woman, and she maintained a respectable distance between her boys and her clutter. But her room. Donald paused and sighed. Her room was a labyrinth of old papers and dusty books. It didn't matter she had been missing for six months. This disaster of a room preceded it by at least several years.

The living room was untidy. The boys' nursery was tidy. To compensate the balance, Della's room was ruthless. Books on top of books piled came to gether on the floor, and each book was decorated with neon-colored sticky notes. He noticed the scribbled handwriting, and kicked towards down to make it to the room's opposite side.

"Jeeze Dumbdella," he grumbled and plopped down on the bed. A soft crunch welcomed his bottom, and his eyes widened at the weak fabric. What he sat on wasn't cotton, or wool, or even a blanket. Standing, he realized his sister had traded her comforter for maps, and the maps were heavily outlined in red markers. These weren't average road maps. Her maps charted the stars and identified its correlating constellations. Lunar phases waxed and waned on the crinkled paper, and a pin dropped in Donald's throat.

He wasn't like Della. His adventures craving were moderate at best. The passion wasn't ingrained in his identity as it was for his uncle and sister. He could survive with or without it, and had decided, immediately after, that living with it wasn't worth it. The mundane protected them, kept them safe, and Donald didn't mind it not being his first choice as long as it was his last choice.

He closed the door quietly. Goofy tumbled on a squeaky toy in the living room, but hadn't said anything in alarm. An attempt to respect Donald's distance for the time being. He locked the door and pressed his back on it.

Scrooge could've hired a cleaning crew, or Della's cleaning habits had marginally improved over the years. The room's chaotic organization suggested the former. If Scrooge was responsible as Donald suspected, the instructions were most likely severe and exact.Clean all the other rooms. Clean the kitchen and the nursery, straighten up the living room (but not too much), live enough to suggest someone lived in this apartment, but don't go in her room. Leave her room be.

White ink gave the charted constellations their celestial glow. His fingers traced Orion, Cygnus, Lyra, and Ursa Major. It hadn’t taken long for his finger to drop helplessly on the paper.

He saw her.

He asked a question. He was concerned. He was afraid. “You’re no coward, Donnie,” she’d clasp his hand, and led him to the plane, “never think that. You’re the bravest duck I know.”

It wasn’t about that.

Louie said his first word, and she missed it. He held his bottle in his hand. The milk reached the bottom of the bottle, only a thin ring, and he blinked at Donald, “ ‘ilk, Unca’ Don.” He said it with such clarity and understanding, shaking the miniature bottle in his hand as Donald felt the breath leave his lungs in excitement.

An unintentional diversion; he knew one when he saw one. His questions were met with easy dismissal, or a foolish distraction that supplanted his concern. Only she and Scrooge knew the full extent of her project, or whatever it was intended to be. Donald understood. Their relationship was a of a different kind, and Donald came to terms with this a long time ago. Their secrecy was frustrating, but this project wasn't any different from the other missions they accomplished as a team.

Or so Donald believed.

The constellations and their inked stars were imprinted on Donald's mind. Her pursuits were suspicious under casual observation. Fanciful adventure was a flame, and like an eager moth, she gave herself to its fire. Did she regard the consequences left in its wake? Donald didn’t know. She didn’t always think far enough ahead.

Footnotes were scrawled in tinier hand writing. He'd need a magnifying glass to read some of them. Stars were enclosed in circles. What was this? Donald narrowed his eyes. Red ink clashed with white. He moved to the front of the bed, and lowered his body onto the paper without tearing it. It yielded to his weight fantastically. He forced his concentration on the tiniest script on the map. In red ink the tiny, bold letters stood out around the moon, and Donald sucked in a painful breath.

"The Spear of Selene may control the tides, control the rotation of the moon and its stars. What else can it do? Ask Uncle Scrooge.”

Goofy liked doing laundry. He presumed the unsettling quietness was worthy of investigation, but he knew Donald. Donald was going to let him know.

A slammed door startled Goofy.

He folded onesies in red, blue, and green. He folded sweater vests in pink, teal, and celestial blue. He also folded a lime green, zigzagged patterned sweater vest large for a duck of Della's size. He nodded with a smile and patted the sweater vests to the side. He shot off the sofa and straight to the ceiling, clunking his head on the unsurprisingly hard surface. By time he fell back onto the sofa, with minimal damage to his cranium and ceiling, Donald was at the front door, red-faced and heaving. Goofy didn’t get a chance to ask a question when Donald told him in a barely controlled his, “We’re going back.”

Goofy instantly assessed the situation. His friend's hot sauce tinted feathers and rabid dilation verified the situation's urgency. He carried the children’s essentials in the totes down the stairs. He hadn’t forgotten the specialized soap set for their downy feathers. He counted the steps as he tried to keep pace with his friend. He was going to have to drive back to Duckburg, and that was exactly what he told him.

He stuffed the totes and other essentials in the trunk. Donald, to his credit, saw the sense in his suggestion, and he clenched his fists to where the knuckles popped like ringing bells.

“I need to speak to my uncle.” He buckled his seat belt and said no more.

St. Canard to Duckburg was a thirty-minute drive on a good day. It was approximately an hour and a half drive during morning and afternoon traffic. For the pair, the drive was about forty-five minutes. The morning traffic was weak by time Goofy maneuvered onto the freeway, and it lessened into streaky lines ten minutes after ten.

Donald didn’t look at Goofy. He didn’t look ahead. His anger pinched the nerves underneath his coat of white feathers. He and Scrooge hadn’t spoken to each other, not since the court date, which was over six months ago. His gripped the side door handle until it burned, and tried to wash the pain away. Calm was what they needed during the drive, and Goofy, yes Goofy, was driving the car. He was driving the car because Donald was angry, and an angry Donald wasn’t safe for drivers.

McDuck Manor stood on top of the hill. Most people would’ve awed at its spectacular beauty. The landscape was meticulous kept, and whenever the sun descended on Duckburg, it was as if a golden halo glowed behind its massive form. It was beautiful. Donald admitted.

But it was a stain on his conscience.

Goofy put the brakes near the speakerphone. Donald unhooked his seat belt, crawled over the space, and pressed the button, “Mrs. B, it’s Donald. Open up.”

“It sounds you’re recovering."

"Hanging in there. Is Uncle Scrooge there?”

Her voice crackled through the inter com, “Yes, yes, he is.” The gates parted to give them access, and Donald returned to his seat.

Goofy shared a worried glance and drove ahead, “What’s the worse that can happen? Gawrsh, last time didn’t you throw a chair at the wall?”

“It was a stool."

Mrs. B greeted them stiffly. On the intercom her tone was as impeccable as ever, unwavering steel. The slight difference were the lines bagging under her eyes, which she cleverly rubbed at when she caught onto his stare. Walking behind her, he was positive he detected a whiff of soy formula, and when she stopped at the stares, she gave him a stare capable of petrifying him on the spot.

“A lot has changed in the past few months, Donald. Your uncle is in his study. I’m sure you know where it is.” She looked to Goofy and smiled softly, “You could’ve brought your boy, Mr. Goof. Either way, I have tea in the kitchen, would you like some?”

“Gawrsh, I certainly would, ma’am.” Goofy patted his shoulders encouragingly, and followed Mrs. Beakley to the kitchen.

Donald’s first day at the mansion was similar to this. The foreboding staircase appeared taller than it was back in those days, and her strong grip had taken hold of his hand. She led the way, and he kept pace behind her. In a fit of excitement she broke into a sprint to his personal library not lying beneath the Money Bin. There was so much to see, so much to learn, and he had been willing to learn them, on his own and with her.

Back on Grandma Elvira’s farm, three children were snuggled in an old, homemade crib. Oblivious to the problems of the adult world, oblivious to how their problems connected to them, they slept soundly. His anger settled inside him like vinegar and oil. He’d climb those steps alone today, and alone after that.

Newspaper clippings piled on the floor. The portraits on the walls were shifted crookedly with dust lining their frames. Crouched at his desk, Scrooge relied on the weak desk lamp instead of the great ceiling light. His personal study was in disarray. It was a stark contrast to its usual immaculate organization.

Scrooge didn’t raise his head from the desk, “Got another chair, boy? Your shoddy aim nearly made a hole in my wall.”

"It was a stool, and it depends on how you answer my questions."

“Go on with it!” He snapped, eyes glancing at him in a hard glare, “I don’t have all day. I need to sign these reports before noon.”

It wasn’t right. Donald stared at his uncle. His hunched back, groggy eyes, even the grimace didn’t sit right on Scrooge McDuck’s face. His ruffled feathers were suited to his dingy blue robe another contrast to the red coat Donald was familiar with.

An old man, Donald thought. A tremor went down his spine.

His life expanded close to a century, and would, possibly, expand even longer. Donald knew his uncle as his mother’s older brother. He was Downey and Fergus’ oldest child, and their only son. Unlike similarly wealthy people, he didn’t bother to cover his age with cosmetics. His cane and spectacles didn’t make him old. Healthy, active, Donald knew his uncle was old, but he was never old to him.

Not until now.

His ruffled feathers, dingy robe, baggy eyes, and disorderly study were symptoms of a greater issue. Time hadn’t aged Scrooge McDuck.

Donald sighed, “What were you doing with the Spear of Selene?”

“What?”

“What were you doing with the Spear of Selene.” Exhaustion pushed his anger down, “I know you know, Scrooge. I know you know more than I do, and I know you what happened to her. So tell me, now.”

Scrooge’s withering glare was all Donald needed, “I don’t know. She didn’t tell me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s the truth!” The desk rattled under the weight of his fists, “She didn’t tell me what her plans were. She didn’t tell you what her plans were, and no matter how angry you are, blaming me won't change the fact that she is gone."

“But -,”

“She’s gone, Donald.”

Anger abandoned the old man sunken in his chair. The persistent resilience that sustained him came undone. He pinched his eyes, shutting them tight against the lamp light.

“There’s nothing left we can do,” he said hollowly. He cupped his face into his hands, shoulders trembling, and Donald stood helplessly, unable to say anything.

Admittedly, anything else said could’ve made it worse.

Donald refused to believe him. He refused to see the sense in his words.

The faulty construction of words were not right on his uncle’s tongue. It was more than its content, more than how it was uttered, Donald realized. His uncle accepted less than. He never accepted anything less than what was deserved, and his compliance to this turn of events unraveled what a near century of strife failed to do.

Donald couldn’t stay. He couldn’t stay surrounded by the man’s treasures and paintings, reminders of a life now buried in the past.

Head on the passenger window, he let the city pass him by. He let the manor fall behind him, to be another reminder of a forgotten life.

It was a forty-minute drive to Grandma’s farm in late afternoon traffic.

Goofy didn’t attempt to start conversation. Cars honked at them, and they were ignored. Pedestrians shot the car dirty looks, and Goofy waved obliviously at them. Donald was relieved he graduated from his youthful driving mindset.

“You were right.”

“Huh?”

“It could’ve gone worse.”

“Did you throw a chair?”

“No, but I think throwing a chair would’ve been better.”

He sighed at the wheel, making a slow turn onto the front yard, “You’re right. Next time, I’ll give a chair to throw, sounds fair?”

“Thanks, Goofy.”

Uncle Eider was at the kitchen sink washing the few dishes used for lunch. He told them the boys were put down for their nap twenty-minutes earlier and that Grandma was in the old nursery with them.

“Watching ‘em like a hawk, Donnie.” He slapped his back and shook Goofy’s hand, “We’ll get the stuff out. Go on and check on ‘em.”

Donald winced at his uncle’s strength. Uncle Eider tended to forget the power in his hands. Goofy followed him outside where the totes and bags waited on the freshly cut grass, and his familiar shout, “Gus, get yer lazy butt outta the hen house,” comforted him somehow.

Formerly Grandpa Humperdink’s workshop, the wood twiddling workshop was renovated to accommodate Eider's birth.

Donald extracted those memories of his grandfather. Callused fingers reached to the sky to grab a straw hat caught in the wind. The same hands held him to their bony waist as they walked to the pig pen. A scratchy beard tickled the top of his head, and a sharp shout of surprised pain came when he reached for the beard, pulling firmly on it.

The memories were short, faded, but tangible enough to remind Donald they were real. Humperdink Duck had held his grandson in his arms for a time, and for a time, he loved him.

Della was not as fortunate.

The boys' memories were too fresh to remain intact throughout the years. She was fated to corrode and crumble in their back dropped memory. Denied this small consolation, there was nothing to compensate what they wouldn't remember. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to feel.

"Have you eaten, Donald?"

He blinked, "What?"

Grandma Elvira rocked Huey in the rocking chair. He realized he was sitting in the old bed pushed from Uncle Eider's old bedroom. Donald shook his head, "No, I…I had breakfast, Grandma."

"It's after three o'clock." She tutted quietly and shifted Huey into her other arm, "You still need to eat, and you still need to rest. I could hear you from the kitchen, dragging your feet like a jackass."

"Grandma…"

"Well, it's true." She sighed, "Now, now, don't look at me like that. I've done this before, and I'll probably do it again with their kids."

It was easy to forget. It was easy to push away the bad and see only the good, to bury the bad and dig the good out. He stared at his grandma and breathed hollowly, sucking a sharp breath that made his ribs clutch in pain.

"How'd you do it?"

"Hm?"

"How'd you do it Grandma?" Back hunched, his face drooped into his hands, "I don't know how. I don't…I don't think I can."

She continued to rock. Huey's quiet breaths filled the silence, and she cupped the toddler's head, "I didn't have a choice, Fauntleroy."

"What?"

"I didn't have a choice," she stared at Huey, at his brothers sleeping in the crib, "and neither do you."

"But I -,"

"No more buts, Fauntleroy." Her hard stare scolded and cradled Donald as her arms cradled Huey, "We're Ducks. Family helps family."

He nodded, "Yes, ma'am."

"Now, get it to bed. You sleep when they sleep." She ceased her rocking and tucked Huey beside Dewey, "They gave your Uncle Eider a run for his money."

Grandma brought the comforter to under his chin, a warm hand pressing on his forehead before the door closed.

One half of his heart was swept away in lunar light. His breathing slowed. He was alone. What was he supposed to do now, without her steady calm? He turned on his side, facing the crib.

Their soft, gurgling breaths filled the room. With the lights off and curtains closed, very little could be seen. Shadows revealed tiny hands clinging to one another, tiny chests rose and fell.

In the stillness of the nursery, in its quietness, he was not lonely, and so, Donald slept.

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #donald duck #della duck #scrooge mcduck #goofy goof #huey dewey and louie #grandma elvira #duck family #mywriting

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