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wistfulcynic · 3 years

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The Outlaw Killian Jones (and the legend Emma Swan)

SUMMARY: Emma Swan is a schoolteacher, respectable and respected in the small town of Haven, Wyoming. She does her job and minds her business, but she has a secret. One that brings meaning to her dull life and excitement to her restless soul. One that she knows could end at any moment.

Killian Jones is a man with a powerful enemy and nothing to lose. He’s prepared to sacrifice every bit of that nothing for the sake of his revenge.

Or, at least, he was.

I am THRILLED to be here, kicking off the @cshistfic Historical Fics event! I’ve always loved reading romances set in the past and Westerns are a long-time favourite. Given how deeply entrenched the Western genre is in American culture, it’s funny to think about how a) most of it was made up for dime novels and, later, radio and television shows and movies, and b) the actual historical period that we call the Old West only lasted roughly thirty years—from the post-Civil War westward expansion under the Homestead Act to around the turn of the 20th century. This fic is set right around the end of that time—late 1890s to early 1900s—in the waning moments of the open range and the “lawless” frontier and the start of the modern era with its trains and barbed wire and cars and world wars. I’ve tried to capture a bit of that sense of transition in the story, mostly with the way it ends.

Huge thanks to @shireness-says for coming up with and running this event, and to @thisonesatellite for Just Being Her.

Words: 4.9k Rating: T Tags: Western AU, historical, outlaw Killian, schoolteacher Emma, all the historical detail, I did so much research for this

on AO3

The Outlaw Killian Jones (and the legend Emma Swan):

The hour was late, afternoon edging into evening in the town of Haven, Wyoming. ‘Town’ as a designation flattered it, this tiny settlement tucked back against craggy and striated formations of rock and nestled amongst ragged brush, being, as it was, scarcely more than a handful of rough-hewn cabins, a church, a general store, a blacksmith and livery stable, a saloon with its attendant whorehouse, and a school.

The store and the smithy did the town’s most active business; unsurprisingly, seeing as they were the only examples of either within the radius of a good fifty miles. The residents—those who lived within the town’s scant limits—were certainly insufficient in their numbers to support either one, but the owners of those ranches that lay outside the town, they and their ranch hands, their wives, and their daughters, frequented both with pleasing regularity.

The general store doubled, as such establishments generally did, as a post office, in which capacity it served as the sole tenuous link between this stark western land and the fashionable cities of the east. The Sears and Roebuck catalogue and that of Montgomery Ward, both prominently displayed beside the till, were tattered and well-thumbed, and the monthly mail delivery never came without piles of brown-wrapped parcels containing the latest in fashion and technology from the wider world—hints at the wonders promised by the new century.

Very little of this prosperity touched the actual residents of Haven. The lives they lived were hard ones, scratched from unforgiving soil, but they were good folk, honest and hard-working. They lived simply and piously and for the most part happily. They tended their gardens and their livestock, read their Bibles, loved their children, and whenever possible sent those children to school.

The Haven school, a single room with two windows, one on either side, and a disproportionate bell-tower on the roof—both this tower and the bell it contained were gifts from a local rancher, who considered them a better use of his money than blackboards or books—was located well away from the town’s main street. It had no fireplace, only a tiny, smoky, potbellied stove, and in the warmer months no breeze blew through the unglazed windows. The pupils sat on simple benches and copied their lessons onto slates that sold at the general store for rather more than their parents could comfortably afford; lessons their teacher laid out for them on a thickly-whitewashed wall with a piece of charcoal, the dust of which stained her fingers and her clothing, and embedded itself beneath her nails so deeply there were times she felt she’d never be free of it.

This teacher’s name, the one she used, was Miss Emma Swan. A solitary and self-contained woman of about twenty-six, far too pretty for a schoolteacher most said, and if pressed these same would likely agree that teaching was not what folks might refer to as her calling. Though none could deny that she did her best and was kind to the children—a thing not always guaranteed from schoolmarms—she exuded such a restless air, an impatience with the tedium of her job and the pace of life in Haven which she did not trouble to conceal, that it was a subject of great curiosity amongst the residents why she continued to stay there.

“I have my reasons,” she would say, whenever anyone dared to broach the subject, “and those reasons are my own.” There it was and there it would remain as far as Emma was concerned, and as the townsfolk knew her to be a courteous woman but one who never minced her words when riled, they declined to press the issue.

By the time Miss Emma Swan had finished up in the schoolroom on this particular late afternoon, the floor swept and the board cleaned and lessons all prepared for the following day, the sun was already slipping behind the craggy rocks at her back and casting upon the town a peculiar sort of distended twilight—shrouded in shadows beneath a glaring blue sky. As she made her way the short distance between the schoolhouse and her own cabin—or rather, the schoolteacher’s cabin, perhaps the most compelling perk of her job—a brisk breeze ruffled the hem of her skirt and the few flyaway hairs that had escaped her tidy Gibson bun. The night would likely be another chilly one, and Emma wondered absently if she had enough wood left to leave the fire high for an extra hour or two or if she should resign herself now to another cold, dark evening spent alone.

The cabin where she lived, she and sixty years of schoolteachers before her, was small and rough like most in Haven and comprised only two rooms: a small bedroom to the rear and a larger space at the front used equally for sitting, cooking, and dining. In this front room was both a fireplace and stove, the latter surprisingly modern and another gift from a different rancher, to the previous teacher. Near this stove sat a small wooden table and two matching chairs; a soft and generous armchair had pride of place before the fire.

The bedroom was by far Emma’s preferred room. The walls in it were painted, in a pale and soothing blue, and on one of them a charming watercolour of forget-me-nots was hung. There was a white wardrobe with a mirrored door, a washstand and a vanity table, and a large bed with a sturdy iron frame. The curtains on the single window were of dotted swiss that Emma had sewn herself, and in the morning when she opened them she was greeted by the colours of the dawn.

Emma removed her buttoned boots the moment she was through the door; they pinched her toes and she disliked wearing them indoors. She replaced them with a well-worn pair of carpet slippers then headed for the bedroom, there to change out of her school clothes and into the more comfortable, loose wrap dress she preferred at home. When she entered the room she had already undone most of the buttons on her high-collared blouse and so made straight for the wardrobe, without so much as a glance at the bed.

The mirror on the wardrobe door as it swung open flashed the brief reflection of a face, just as Emma heard the sound of a chair leg scrape against the bare wood floor. She gasped and spun around, eyes wide and one hand pressed against her chest.

There could be no question that the man currently in occupation of her vanity chair, sprawled in it with an air as casual as it was deceptive, was one who had followed quite a different path of life than that afforded to the residents of Haven. His untidy hair and the thick scruff on his jaw might not be especially remarkable out in this still-wild corner of Wyoming, but the narrow cut of his coat and the embroidery on the waistcoat beneath it, the silver chain of his pocket-watch and the ostentatious knot of his tie marked him as a man who knew his way around a gambling table for both good or ill and could likely acquit himself equally well in both scenarios. A man who dealt with the hardships of life by shooting rather than working his way out of them—as the gleaming six-shooter currently pointed straight at Emma would most certainly attest.

Emma forced herself to breathe, slow and steady. Her heart was pounding. The man greeted her with a brusque nod, and cocked the hammer on his revolver.

“Don’t let me interrupt you, love,” he drawled, in an accent that suited this town less even than his clothes or his gun. “By all means, keep going.”

Emma swallowed hard and with trembling fingers undid the remainder of her buttons. Her blouse hung open to reveal the hooks of the corset underneath.

The man gave his gun a menacing wave. “All the way now, there’s a good lass.”

She shrugged off the blouse and let it fall to the floor.

“And the skirt.”

She unhooked her grey wool skirt and released it to pool around her ankles.

His voice rasped. “Take down your hair.”

Emma shivered.

Three pins and two combs held her hair in place. She removed them, dropped them into the pile of clothing at her feet; the bun tumbled down and over her shoulder.

“Shake your head.”

She did, vigorously. The bun unraveled further and strands of silky blonde fell across her face.

He swallowed audibly. “Now the rest.”

Emma hesitated, fingers hovering over the hooks on her corset. She wore nothing beneath it but a combination made of thin cotton lawn.

The man raised his gun and growled, “All of it.”

She tossed her head back, jutted her chin out high in defiance. Her belly churned with a dark thrill of anticipation as she unhooked the corset and flung it away. He chuckled, low and rough. Emma fumbled with the buttons on her combination as he uncocked his gun and set it aside, then undid the belt designed to hold it. His eyes locked with hers as he stood, pale blue and profoundly tired, eyes that had seen far too much.

She finished with the buttons but left the combination on, parted to reveal a thin strip of pale skin. Her heart thundered as he approached, her breaths short and heaving. He swaggered up and stopped in front of her, close enough that she could smell the dust and sweat on him, so close she had to tilt her head again to see his face. His hand slipped beneath her shift to curl around her waist, fingers rough on her soft skin.

“I—” Emma gasped as he pulled her closer, flush against him. His voice was a rumbling growl in her ear.

“You what, love?”

“I was expecting you yesterday!” she snapped, and then she kissed him.

“Gold is dead.”

Emma’s head shot up from where it had been resting on the bare and hairy chest of Killian Jones. The most notorious outlaw in three states, or so the Wanted posters would have folks believe. Train robber, bank robber, high-stakes gambler—but only the trains and banks and gambling dens controlled by one particular man. A man in whose side Killian Jones had been an exceptionally troublesome thorn for near to six years. A man whose wife Jones stood accused of murdering. A man who was, it seemed, now dead himself.

Emma stared down at his face, at the sharp definition of his cheekbones and lines of strain around his eyes. Such heavy burdens he’d been carrying for as long as she’d known him, but now, despite the exhaustion writ plain on his face he seemed lighter. Relieved, in some intangible way.

“He is?” she gasped.

“Aye.” Killian nodded, grimly satisfied. “Shot him right through the place where his heart should be. That’s why I was late.”

“Oh, Killian.” It wouldn’t do to feel happy about a murder, even that of a wicked man, but Emma found that she too was grimly satisfied. “You did it.”

“Aye, it’s done. And now I have a price on my head so high I’d turn myself in if I could, and special team of bounty hunters hired by Gold’s son to bring me to him, dead or alive.”

“Oh.” Her fingers flexed on his chest and his tightened where they curled around her hip. “What—what will you do?”

“Leave the country.” He spoke as though the answer were obvious, and Emma supposed it was. “I’ve no choice.”

“Will you go back to England?”

“No. There’s nothing left for me there.” He paused and his hand slid up her back to tangle absently in her hair. “I was thinking South America. Argentina.”

“Argentina?”

“Aye. Land’s selling down there for cheap and I’ve enough saved to buy myself a ranch. I’ve never tried ranching before so it’ll probably be an utter failure, but the idea’s crawled into my head and made itself a nest there, so I think that’s what I’ll do.”

Emma slipped from his arms and out of bed. She could feel his eyes on her as she took her house dress from the wardrobe and wrapped it around herself, as she tied it at her waist with jerky movements.

“You must be hungry,” she said.

“I could eat.”

“Stew?”

“Perfect.”

In the front room Emma piled wood on the embers in her stove and coaxed a fire to life beneath the pot of stew she’d left on the hob. She swept the ashes from the fireplace, arranged the logs and the kindling, then struck a flint to light it. She could hear Killian in the bedroom washing and dressing in the spare clothes she kept on hand for him, and by the time she sensed his presence behind her the larger logs were catching nicely and the hearty aroma of stew had begun to waft in from the stove.

“Shouldn’t be too long before it’s ready,” she told him without turning around. “There’s cornbread too. It’s a few days old, but—”

“Emma.”

“—it should still be good if you dunk it in the stew.”

“Emma, love.” Killian’s voice was soft, full of the tenderness he showed only to her. “Talk to me.”

“About what?”

It wasn’t as though she hadn’t known this day would come, this one or another very like it. She understood the dangers of the life he lived, out on the edges of society, pursued by an influential man with a terrible grudge, and she’d done all she could to make her peace with it. Killian could have died any number of times in the three years of their acquaintance; she had always been aware that every time she bid him farewell might be the last.

And now she knew for certain that it would be. Nothing had changed.

She heard him pull out one of the dining chairs and sit down in it, and though she kept her back to him she he knew he would be leaning his elbow on the table and running a hand over his face. She could picture the gesture in her mind’s eye with perfect clarity, so often had she seen him do it before, and her heart hurt because she knew he only did this when he was deeply troubled.

“Emma, you know—you know why I spent so long trying to kill Gold,” he said roughly.

“For Milah.” Her voice hardly broke on the name. “To avenge her.”

“Yes. That bastard hunted her like an animal, shot her right in front of me then framed me for the crime, and all because she couldn’t bear to spend another moment as his wife. He took her life rather than allow her to live it free from him, because he couldn’t countenance her finding happiness with another man. And I swore to her as she lay dying that I would make him pay for that.”

“Because you love her.”

“I did.” In the silence of the cabin, she could hear the rasp of his scruff against his palm. “I did.”

Emma had been watching the fire, now dancing merrily in the hearth, and it took a beat or two for his words to register. When they did her heart gave a shuddering thump and she spun round to gape at him. “Did?” she repeated.

Killian’s lip quirked and humour flared briefly in his eyes before they became solemn again, and heartrendingly soft. “It’s a funny thing, revenge,” he remarked. “It begins as a simple quest for justice but so easily descends into obsession—almost before a man knows what’s come over him, it’s all he’s got left to live for. That’s how it was for me, for years. Until…”

He trailed off and Emma found she was holding her breath. “Until?” she prompted.

He looked up at her. “Until I met you.”

She inhaled sharply as their eyes met, his own warm and such a brilliant blue, full of an emotion to which she didn’t dare give a name. “I kept after Gold because of my vow to Milah, yes, but also because I had to, because it was him or me. His life or mine. When that bullet pierced his chest and I saw him fall, I realised that it wasn’t about Milah for me anymore and it hadn’t been, not for a long time. I was fighting for my life, my right to have it and to live it in peace. That’s all I want, just peace and a simple life. And you.”

“Me?” gasped Emma, blankly and ungrammatically, as she attempted to grasp what he was saying.

Amusement coloured the tenderness on his face, alongside a hint of exasperation. “Don’t you know, Emma?” he asked with a shake of his head. “Why do you think I kept coming back here?”

She offered a weak smile and an abashed shrug. “My cornbread?” she ventured, and he laughed.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, darling, but your cornbread is dry. Try again.”

Emma elected to ignore this ungentlemanly slur on her culinary skills. “Well… I suppose the town is quite secluded, good for hiding out,” she observed.

“It is that. But that isn’t the reason, love.”

“Isn’t it?”

“You know it isn’t.” Killian stood and moved towards her, slowly as if she were a baby faun he was apt to startle, or possibly a sleeping mountain lion. “It’s you, Emma Swan,” he said softly. “You are what I will always come back for. You are the reason my soul is hale and unconsumed by hatred. Because it wasn’t revenge I was after, in the end. It was the future I wanted with you.”

Tears clogged Emma’s throat and pressed insistently behind her eyes. “Killian,” she choked, “I—”

“Shh.” He closed what small distance remained between them and folded her in an embrace to which she clung tightly, face pressed against his shoulder so the soft flannel of his shirt might absorb her tears. “Emma, I know I have next to nothing to offer you.” Killian stroked her hair soothingly as he spoke. “A tenuous existence in an unfamiliar country, backbreaking work that likely won’t pay off, a struggle for everything we have. I shouldn’t ask this of you. I should have the decency to walk away and let you find happiness with a better man than me.” She could hear tears in his voice now, and when she looked up she saw them glistening in his eyes. “But I won’t,” he continued gruffly. “I can’t, because I am a selfish bastard and I love you. I love you so much, Emma.” His voice broke. “So much. And if you could see your way clear to coming to Argentina with me, I would spend every day I have left on this earth working to make you happy.”

A rush of joy filled Emma Swan then, joy such as she had never known before. Her tears fell freely and unheeded as she tightened her hold on the man she loved and pressed her forehead to his own. In that stance they remained for some considerable time, until Emma became aware that the silence had drawn out far too long and she must speak. There were words he needed to hear from her, crucial words, and yet Miss Emma Swan, despite being quite a competent schoolteacher in all respects including her vocabulary, had always found words failed her when in the grip of strong emotion.

“Did I ever tell you I grew up on a ranch?” she blurted, then shook her head. That wasn’t what she’d wished to say.

Killian’s brow wrinkled. “You’ve mentioned it.”

“My daddy’s place out near Casper,” Emma pressed on. “A thousand acres of cattle, mostly, and some horses.”

“It sounds nice.”

“It was.” She snuffled and shifted until her head was resting on his shoulder and she felt cradled in his arms. This wasn’t the speech she’d planned but now she found herself determined to give it. “I was his only child, his only family after my mama died, and he reared me all my life to take over from him,” she continued. “But then when I was nineteen he got married again, and had a son. And suddenly ranching was ‘no job for a woman,’ or so he said, and I should look into teaching instead. Or better still get married and become some man’s pretty possession. Preferably the son of a neighbouring rancher, ‘for the future of our family’s land and legacy’.” She paused, remembering, and rubbed her cheek against his shirt. “I told him to go fuck himself.”

Killian’s laugh rumbled through the both of them. “That’s my tough lass,” he said, with a pride in his voice that warmed her, and made her desperate.

“But you do know what I’m saying, don’t you Killian?” she persisted. “You hear what I’m telling you?”

“What I hear is that in addition to being beautiful and brilliant and tough as old boots, you also know how to run a ranch. Which would be bloody useful I must admit, as I haven’t got the first faint clue where to start. Is that what you wanted me to understand?”

She nodded in relief. “That’s it.”

He brushed the hair back from her face with fingers gentle as the wing of a butterfly. “And is that... all you have to say?”

She felt caught in his eyes, and like to drown in them. “There may be one more thing.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. It’s that I—I—” Emma drew a steadying breath. “I love you too, Killian, and of course I’ll go to Argentina with you.” A smile broke across his face, that rare and brilliant smile of his that set her heart to soaring and broke the dam that held her words in check. “I’d go anywhere with you,” she declared, laughing as he squeezed her tight. “To the moon. To hell itself, and then back out again.”

“Let’s hope that won’t be necessary.”

He leaned down to her and she swayed up to him and their lips met in a kiss that sang of love and of hope and of a most solemn promise, if something of a dramatic one. He dipped her back and kissed her until she was dizzy and overcome with laughter, and then swung her up again and into a dance.

Emma put her head on his shoulder and leaned into him as they danced to music they alone could hear, all around the cabin with the aroma of stew in the air and hope for the future in their hearts.

The disappearance of Miss Emma Swan, schoolteacher and respected resident, shook the town of Haven, Wyoming as nothing had before. Even the escape and subsequent stampede down Main Street of Mr Murchison’s pigs had caused less consternation, since, as the residents all agreed, for that at least there was an explanation. A rusty gate hinge, investigation later revealed, had been the culprit behind the Spectacular Pig Hullabaloo of 1893, whereas Miss Swan had simply vanished, with no explanation given or obvious method of egress. She owned no horse and had not boarded the stage; no one matching her description had been observed at the train station in Casper or anywhere else that a woman alone on foot might reasonably have been expected to turn up. She had taken nothing with her save some clothes and a few books and left nothing behind but a brief letter hastily scrawled on a scrap of paper—her resignation from her position as schoolteacher effective immediately, and a recommendation for her replacement.

Haven residents were thoroughly baffled, and for many months afterwards the Fantastical Vanishing of Miss Emma Swan was the number one topic of conversation amongst them. Theories were dismantled nearly as quickly as they had been constructed, replaced by newer and ever more fanciful speculations, and each resident had his or her own pet notion as to how and why the trick was done. Rarely had they felt so stimulated or enjoyed themselves so thoroughly, however time, as it inevitably does, soon began quite noticeably to pass, and the town’s attention moved on to other happenings. For although new events in such a quiet place may never again be as deliciously sensational as the mystery of the vanished schoolmarm, they do possess the not insignificant advantage of being new.

And thus Emma Swan passed into Haven legend.

Some years later, on the eve of her wedding, Miss Mary Margaret Blanchard—soon to be Mrs David Nolan—sat at the very table where Miss Swan’s letter had been left and composed a letter of her own, to an old friend she’d first met at the State Normal School of Colorado. In her letter Miss Blanchard informed her friend of the imminent blessed day and thanked her for the recommendation that had not only brought Miss Blanchard many years of enjoyable work as schoolteacher to Haven’s children but also led, in that roundabout way life sometimes takes, to her current state of blissful happiness.

This letter travelled by mail coach from the Haven general store—where Miss Blanchard posted it to the care of a P.O. Box in San Francisco—to the main post office in Casper. From there it went via train to Cheyenne, where it was loaded onto the mail car of the Union Pacific Railway and thence made its journey to the west coast. In San Francisco its fortunes underwent a curious change, for it was redirected by a clerk there, in accordance with instructions, and placed back on the Union Pacific, headed this time for Denver. From Denver it voyaged onwards to Kansas City, then Chicago, and finally to New York, where it abandoned train travel forever in favour of a steam ship bound for Buenos Aires.

Upon arrival at port it was placed in the charge of a courier who carried it along with a scant handful of others over the rough roads of the Argentinian coast to Puerto Santa Cruz and then inland, where it finally, many months after its departure, came to rest at a tiny, dusty outpost in southern Patagonia. And it was from this inauspicious locale that the letter was collected, at long last, by its intended recipient—a woman none of the residents of Haven nor indeed the erstwhile Miss Blanchard herself would be likely to recognise as Emma Swan.

The clothes she wore were utilitarian in design and plain in colour, liberally coated in fine brown dust. Her pale hair hung loose and wavy down her back, and her face beneath her wide-brimmed hat was tanned and marked around the eyes with the fine lines characteristic of those who spend a good deal of time squinting into bright sunlight. But these were superficial changes. The woman who collected the well-travelled letter and rode with it back to her ranch, who sat at the table in her kitchen and read it with a wide smile and sincere pleasure at the news from her friend—this woman was happy, as Emma Swan had surely never been. It was a happiness born of deep contentment and the satisfaction of a life lived on one’s own terms. And it was the happiness of a woman who is loved.

Emma was reading the letter a fourth time when the sound of boots on the porch alerted her to Killian’s arrival; she looked up just as he came through the door with a smile on her lips the like of which neither Mrs Nolan nor any other in Haven could ever imagine her smiling.

Killian hung his hat on a hook and met its brilliance with a smile of his own. “What are you thinking about, love, that has you so radiant?” he inquired.

“A letter from Mary Margaret.” Emma indicated the sheet of paper in her hand. “She’s getting married. Is married now, I suppose.”

“To a fellow worthy of her, I hope?”

“A rancher, but not one of the arrogant ones,” Emma replied. “I think he is. Worthy of her, I mean. I think they’ll be happy.”

“That’s good news indeed.”

“It is.” She set the letter aside and went over to him, tucked her head beneath his chin as he enfolded her in his arms. “But that’s not why I’m radiant, as you say.”

“I say it only because it’s true, darling.”

“It’s because I’m happy,” said Emma softly. She nuzzled her nose against his neck; he smelled of sweat and dust and horses. “For Mary Margaret, of course, but also for me. It struck me just now, reading her letter, how happy I am. I’m so happy, Killian.”

His arms around her tightened and she felt him stroke her hair, and when he spoke his voice was gruff. “No regrets then, about abandoning everything you’ve ever known to live out your days on the lam with me?”

“Nope.” Emma pulled back just enough to look up at him, to caress his cheek with her fingertips and press her forehead to his. “No regrets at all.”

Historical Note: Emma in this fic is based loosely on a woman named Etta Place. Very little is known about her, but she is thought to have been romantically involved with Harry Longabaugh, a.k.a. the Sundance Kid, and to have accompanied him and Butch Cassidy to South America. However, verifiable details about her are scarce—even her real name is uncertain—and only one photograph of her remains. Some believe she may have been a prostitute but in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid the writer chose to make her a teacher instead, and honestly I have always found that such a compelling tale. A “proper” schoolteacher having a secret affair with an outlaw, then running away with him to another continent? The romance, am I right?

And thus the inspiration for this story.

@ohmightydevviepuu @thisonesatellite @katie-dub @kmomof4 @killianjones-twopointoh @mariakov81 @stahlop @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @shireness-says @snowbellewells

#cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #cshistfic #captain swan #western au #historical fic #historical romance #Emma is a teacher #killian is an outlaw #many many historical details #like so many #i make no apologies for this #it's more of a warning #the outlaw Killian Jones (and the legend Emma Swan)#profdanglaisstuff

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notnctu · 3 years

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under the mistletoe | l.ty

lee taeyong x fem!reader genre - fluff, barely humor idk, very little bit of angst details - enemies to lovers!au, childhood friends that have been apart, high school!au warnings - explicit language, one mention of death, there’s a kiss scene lol word count - 2.7k synopsis - the holiday season brings a change of heart this year. you see your old friend, now enemy, Lee Taeyong at Mark’s Christmas gathering and through snowman shaped cookies, you two re-kindle your old friendship.

a/n - this is for @neoculturechristmas ‘s secret santa collab! this piece is dedicated to @soliverse :) hello lovie!! i’m your secret santa!! i hope you like it and im sorry that it’s not funny LOL thank you for letting me participate in such a fun holiday collab! im so happy to be able to write a fic for another writer:)

Through the heavily crowded Christmas party, through the people that dare walk in your way, you still see him in the midst of the chaos. Lee Taeyong stands only a few feet from you, in a ridiculous Christmas sweater and messy frosty hair. The universe is absolutely obsessed with placing you two in uncomfortable situations, as if the fuming feud between you two is not enough.

His absentminded actions cause him to foolishly knock over someone’s drink, what a fucking clutz. Rolling your eyes, you wander off in search of your good friend to announce your departure for the night.

“Already? Y/N, you got here like, five minutes ago.” Mark mixes the glass bowl that is filled to the brim with red sugary punch. Any forceful spin will have it spilling from the rim, and that won’t be the only mishap of the night that you witness. “What’s the rush? It’s Christmas Eve!”

And before you can utter the blacklisted name to explain your sudden change of heart, the culprit walks in with his stunned puppy eyes that grow sharp and a frown at your appearance. There is a small spark in the shared eye contact until it completely drops and he returns to ignoring your presence.

“Mark, where are your napkins? I spilled something in your living room.” It had to be a whole year since you’ve last heard his voice and you still remember his low cadence whenever he was trying to be cool. Cool and mysterious Taeyong, and how he lives up so perfectly to his title. However, there was a moment in time that you knew him for more than that. He was warm and comforting Taeyong.

While he tried so hard to be winter on the outside, spring bloomed blossoms on the inside and a bright sunshine radiated enough for you to witness its glow. You wished to stay with his spring for as long as you possibly could, but like the changing seasons, Taeyong eventually changed with it.

“It’s in the upper cabinet.” Mark does not realize the initial situation in the room, merrily going back to his large bowl of delicious liquid. It takes one big sigh from you for your friend to finally realize the elephant in the room and the unknowingly stiff tension in the kitchen. Mark’s eyes grow a bit bigger and as subtle as he tried to be, he clears his throat, “I think Christmas is all about joining together and being in each other’s company. Stay, Y/N.”

Mark did not choose his words wisely as Taeyong peeks over his shoulder, catching the last words of his sentence. “You’re leaving already, Y/N?” That is the first time he’s acknowledged you in the past few years.

There is an internal battle of whether or not you should acknowledge him back. Crossing your arms, you grumble something underneath your breath. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” Taeyong says sternly, making sure he asserts his nonchalant attitude. “Just sucks that Mark threw such a happy Christmas party for his good friend to leave.” He slings an arm around Mark’s shoulders, snuggling his face into the side of Mark’s chocolate colored hair.

And Mark dares to show a small smile of affection back. “Sorry that Y/N is always walking out on things. She does that quite often.” Before you can give him a piece of your mind, Mark shoves a snowman shaped biscuit in your mouth.

Taeyong gets away laughing, feeling an overwhelming sense of pride as he walks to clean up his other mess. You groan, biting the head of the snowman off and glaring at Mark. “Why did you let him get away with saying that to me? And when did you become friends with him again? And why are your cookies so hard?”

“Taeyong lost a friend, like a month ago. Just be a bit empathetic, please.” Mark wipes his hands on his apron and continues kneading at a random ball of dough. If it’s one thing that Mark always does too well is overachieving at his holiday gatherings. There is a reason why he’s head of the Prom Committee and student officer for event planning at your high school.

Washing your hands, the cold water bites at your skin. It’s been a really cold winter this year. When you dry your hands off, you scoot Mark over to make room for yourself to help with his endless amount of holiday treats.

“We’ve all lost friends, Mark. Sometimes people don’t work out with others and that’s just how it goes.” There is an underlying bitterness that does not seem to fade when you speak.

“Speaking from experience, maybe?” Mark chuckles, but dismisses the brief second of giggles to a more serious and low tone. “Not that kind of lost, Y/N. He lost a friend forever, like this person is in a forever sleep.”

The moment the words hit the air, a chilly draft sweeps at your ankles and you freeze in your place. And as you stand with dry flour on your hands and a person you thought you’d never become warm to again stands in the next room over, your heart softens at the information and immediate guilt preoccupies your system.

“Oh… well you should have started with that, then.” You slightly graze a finger across your nose at the faint tickle. Your mind is running at high speed, merely wondering about all the pain that Taeyong possibly felt this past month and remembering how it’s difficult for him to process his feelings.

“He actually wasn’t going to come tonight, until I mentioned you were coming.” Mark unloads a batch of fresh cookies from the oven and replaces it with another tray. The aromatics take you back to Christmas many years ago and the memory of Taeyong getting frosting everywhere you could remember. It took weeks to get the red and green stains out of the carpet, but the laughter made up for every clumsy mistake.

Not completely sure where the melancholic spirit erupted from, you rinse your hands and grab two cookies off the still hot tray without another response. Hurrying off, Mark yells out, “Wait-- those aren’t decorated yet!” but you choose to ignore his pleas.

Why is it harder to find him in a crowd when you are actually looking for him? Perhaps the saying, the best things in life come when you’re not looking for them, holds some truth to it. But your feet take you directly to him; he sits at the leather couch with the burning embers from the fireplace reflecting in his eyes.

Your abrupt appearance startles him a bit, but his face falls sullen when he sees that it’s you. Shoulders touching, you’ve missed the intimacy you two use to share. The blank snowman shaped cookie feels warm in your hand as you thrust it into Taeyong’s face. “For you.”

Taeyong scoffs, pushing your hand away lightly and looking away from the pitiful undecorated treat. “This feels like a trap.”

“No trap. Just a truce. Remember the time when I got upset at you for forgetting me in the parking lot and I told you the only way to fix it was to buy me food?” Your hand begins to drop, but Taeyong catches your wrist and takes the cookie from your possession. He gently places your hand back onto your lap.

“I know no other love language.” You explain the reasoning behind the old memory.

“Pretty sure food isn’t a love language.” Taeyong chuckles, like Christmas carols to your ears, he sounds like home.

“It’s not, but they all require me to be too emotionally vulnerable and you know how that makes me feel…” Your voice unintentionally trails off the end of your sentence. Does he still know how you feel?

Taeyong’s eyebrow raises subtly, catching your implication. “You’re still the same person you were three years ago?”

Three years, has it really been that long? You nod without needing to ponder the thought. There is a stark difference between change and growth. You are who you’ve always been, that is never going to change, but you’ve grown to be stronger and a little more independent.

“That’s not surprising.” Taeyong bites at his cookie, turning the figure in his hands as he stares off to reminisce about the past. He thinks about his pain. He thinks about his own self growth. “I’ve been thinking about you recently.”

The bold comment causes your chest to burn and your throat to grow a bit dry. Taeyong finally looks up at you, eyes dropping between your own and your lips. He doesn’t shy away from staring, taking in how much you’ve changed appearance wise since you two used to be friends. His eyelashes dance against his skin every time he blinked and the white strands of his hair fall around his crown like snowflakes.

“Why?”

“I learned how important it is to have friends around you. You never know when you’ll never see them again. The falling out we had should not have ruined the friendship we built for so long.” It’s difficult for Taeyong to continue with his feelings. It’s not a secret that he’s liked you since you two were close, probably half of the room is well aware of it. But there has never been a moment where he was out right too vulnerable to you, he was and is afraid of showing his feelings.

It’s an immediate body reaction when Taeyong leans in to you and you defensively back away. The confusion shows on your face very blatantly and his dreamy laugh rattles your bones. Taeyong’s hand softly caresses your cheek as his thumb brushes the tip of your nose. “You have some flour on your face.” This skin to skin leaves you speechless as his hot hand holds your cheek so delicately, making your heart race rapidly.

“Your Christmas sweater is ugly.” That’s all you can utter, out of pure panic too. Your eyes dip away and he retracts away from you, elbows on his knees as he leans forward and ducking momentarily to examine his choice of festive clothing.

He laughs, “it’s called an ugly Christmas sweater for a reason. It’s better than wearing a lame red sweater and calling it festive.” It’s surreal how quick things settle back into being the way that it used to be. As if the last three years of silence and constantly pretending the other didn’t exist disappeared. Taeyong is back, he’s yours again. And you hope that he’ll be by your side for longer than you had let him go.

“Red is not my color, I agree, but green is definitely not yours.” You joke back and Taeyong ruffles your hair, just like old times. The holiday spirit practically wraps its arms around you two. The holidays are really about being in each other’s warmth. In this very cold winter, you’re happy to have found an old flame that kept you from frostbite for many years.

“Y/N, we’re putting up the mistletoe.” An acquaintance interrupts you and Taeyong, quickly grabbing your arm to follow her. Your eyes dart between her and Taeyong. One thing you know no doubt about is that you aren’t leaving Taeyong alone again, so you take his hand without another second thought and drag him along with you.

You’re all ushered into the foyer and Mark is on a step ladder under the frame of his door. He notes Taeyong by your side and discreetly smiles to himself. He securely pins it to the wall and claps his hands together to gather everyone’s attention. “We’re going to blindfold two people and they’re going to have to kiss underneath the mistletoe.”

Your hands grow sweaty at the thought of such a risky game and immediately, you two let go of each other’s hands without realizing the clutching feeling of each other’s anxiousness. “I don’t think I’ll be chosen.” Taeyong mumbles to you as Mark and a few other people unravel the blindfolds. Nevertheless, he doesn’t sound very confident and you notice Taeyong’s shifty eyes.

“Right. Me either.” You shrug off, trying to hide slightly behind Taeyong’s stature. However, Taeyong instantly catches the uncertainty in your voice as well.

“Aren’t there four couples in the room?” Taeyong whispers over his shoulder at you.

Crossing your arms, you roll your eyes at his obvious thinking. “Yeah, but Mark isn’t going to choose a couple to kiss. How boring.”

Taeyong chuckles out of disbelief at your comment. “I’ll volunteer you if you want to really spice things up.”

And your eyes grow wide at his mischievous suggestion, pinching at his arm lightly. Underneath the fleece, Taeyong feels sturdy and strong. It’s only another reminder that you two aren’t kids anymore. “Lee Taeyong, do not. I don’t want to kiss anyone in this room.” That might’ve been a lie, even if you didn’t want to admit it to yourself that you are just a little curious how Taeyong might have matured.

“Everyone close your eyes.” Mark excitedly smiles and everyone obliges. You gulp the pooled saliva in your mouth, trying to manifest every possible hope that you aren’t chosen in this room of twenty people. Mark wouldn’t screw you over like that, would he? The more you pondered that thought, the more you believe that he totally would.

Then, you feel a hand on your arm and you’re being guided somewhere. A cloth covers your eyes and you’re quick to snarl, “Mark Lee, this is your only Christmas present. You get no more favors from me.” your cadence is only loud enough for him to hear and though you’re robbed of your sight, Mark’s boyish laughter says enough about his enlightened facial expression.

“This is what you get for trying to leave five minutes into my extravagant party I tried so hard to put on.” Mark sarcastically comments and pats your shoulders for a last indication of reassurance.

You hear footsteps in front of you and an uncanny presence of another in your close proximity. “Okay, everyone can open their eyes.” Mark cheers and it’s not like you can see much through the dark cloth that covers your eyes, but yours open anyways.

Gasps fill the room, slight hollering and cheering. The reactions cause an unsettling stir in your lower stomach. “Kiss!” and before you know it, the unknown person searches for your face and cups it gingerly. The feeling being very familiar to a scene before.

The both of you lean in and it’s difficult with the lack of sight, but people kiss with their eyes closed right? It’s not your first kiss, but also the sense deprivation is something different. When you tilt your head and go in for it, your noses bump together clumsily. You’re slightly embarrassed, your heart is leaping out of your chest from the sudden display of affection and you’re strangling Mark in your imagination.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, but there isn’t a response back. Instead, your partner dives in without any trace of struggle. Their lips glide perfectly with yours and it’s almost like you’re kissing snow. Any form of awkwardness melts away; their hand on your cheek feels natural and comforting. Your heart yearns for this sense of security as the same warmth from the fireplace embodies your chest.

When you two pull away, the room bursts into a loud chaos of cheers. Before you can take off your blindfold, you can feel everyone running toward the both of you to give you excited pats on your head and arm.

“I can’t believe that just happened!” Your friend’s voice can be heard in your ear. As you lift off the cloth, you see him in the midst of the chaos. Through the heavy dog pile of overly joyous people, Lee Taeyong stands a few feet from you in his ugly Christmas sweater, messy frosty hair and a pink hue across his pale cheeks.

He looks over at you and shyly smiles. “Hopefully that spiced things enough for you. Happy Holidays, Y/N.” He can barely process everyone else's excitement, but he feels joyous for once. After a long cold bitter winter, he feels warm.

“Happy Holidays, you big goof. Good to have you back.” You push at his arm, laughing happily at the ridiculously wide smile he has on his face. You’re glad to see Taeyong smile again.

#neoculturechristmas #nct-writers #kpopscape #neowritingsnet #neothestars #nct scenarios #taeyong scenarios #nct scenario #taeyong #lee taeyong #nct imagines #nct fluff #lee taeyong scenarios

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hidden-otaku-stuff · 4 years

Text

Lockscreens (ch.10)

tw: insecurities, minor anger-driven violence

Word count: 3.85k

Genre: Angst, fluff

All trigger warnings will be tagged and posted at the beginning of each chapter! This will have *manga spoilers*

Pairings: Bokuto x fem!reader, Kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: Nearly four years ago, Bokuto left the love of his life for volleyball. Despite all the time, he’s still very much in love with her. He comes home to a major surprise leaving him wondering…What happened while he was gone?

Masterlist | prev | next

ch. 10: All Caught Up (Present)

Present, the day after the game

“Bokuto-sehsu, that was a fantastic match last night! How are you feeling today?”

“Thank you so much Au-san! We worked really hard, and we’re so happy for a MSBY Jackal victory,” he beamed, crossing his legs and leaning forward slightly. “I’m feeling great.”

“How do you guys normally celebrate after a win?”

“Well, we’ll normally go out for a bite to eat or something.” He adjusted his sports jacket, hands fiddling with the zipper. “If we’d just flown in that night though, we’d normally head off to bed after eating something in the hotel restaurant.”

“You guys must be hungry after all that running and jumping!” She laughed. “You’re from Tokyo right? What’s the best place for a post-game meal?”

He nodded eagerly. “Yes, I was actually the ace at Fukurodani Academy when I was in high-school. We normally go to Gyu-Kaku by the stadium after a hard-fought game, win or lose. I actually took the team there last night.”

“Gyu-Kaku? That’s actually one of my favourites!” They both laughed. “Now, obviously you’ve been involved with volleyball for a good majority of your life. I gotta ask, is there anything you regret about it?” Bokuto froze, his mind running this way and that.

He wasn’t sure why this question was always asked, and he swallowed the weight of the lies on his tongue as he repeated the same lies he had lived and breathed for the past four years. Bokuto forced a grin, “No, not at all. I love volleyball, it’s always been there for me. I’m so happy that I have a chance to continue with it as my career.”

“Speaking of love, any special lady in your life?”

The corner of his mouth twitched as he forced out a laugh, his heart shattering. Of course. Just another bachelor on the MSBY team. “Not at this time,” he acknowledged, knuckles whitening. Bokuto could almost feel the jagged edges of the pieces of his heart that he’d clumsily tried to reassemble. “It’s hard balancing all the travel and practice with a dating life.”

“Well hopefully you’ll find someone willing to do that for you.” Au smiled. “Well folks, that’s all the time we have today. Thank you for coming out!”

As Bokuto left the studio from his live interview, he let out an extensive sigh. It wasn’t often that interviewers asked him about his past, but he supposed it was expected considering he was local to Tokyo. He turned down the street, letting his music fade in the background as he remembered his past. Bokuto still couldn’t believe that he had run into (Name) yesterday, let alone that she was married to Kuroo for gods’ sake. He sighed, face darkening. Kuroo had been the one to introduce them after all.

“Hey Bokuto, I want you to meet someone. Come to Gym 3 later for extra practice!” A hand clapped onto his back, sending the wing-spiker lurching forward. Glancing up, he nodded at the other first-year male.

“Who else will be there?”

Kuroo shrugged, grinning. “You’ll just have to come and see, won’t you?”

After all the practices, Bokuto entered Gym 3 to find it empty. He picked a corner, placing his bag and stuff down before taking a sip from his water bottle. “You’re Bokuto right?” The spiker jumped, dropping his bottle. He cursed, bending down as he picked it up. A soft giggle had him looking up. “I’m (L.Name, Name),” she introduced, bending beside him as she began to towel up the split water. Bokuto stared at her, open-mouthed. “You were really good today!” She beamed, standing up with the soiled towels.

“Thank you,” he stammered, moving to stand beside her. “What school are you from?”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, “Nekoma.”

“Oh! You must be Kuroo’s friend?”

(Name) laughed, eyes sparkling. “You can say that. We've been friends since grade school.”

Golden eyes widened. “He mentioned wanting to introduce me to someone. That must be you.”

“Funny, Kuroo said the same thing about you.” She bowed. “I’ll be in your care, Bokuto-san.” His cheeks glowed as he pulled her up from her bow.

Bokuto frowned, arriving at his temporary lodging. Under different circumstances, he would’ve asked to stay with (Name) after reconnecting, but the circumstances being what they were, he figured renting out a place for the month would be better. He sat on his couch, lips pursed. Bokuto’s phone vibrated against his thigh. “Hello?”

“Bokuto-san.”

“Akaashi!”

“I heard that you were back in Tokyo?”

Bokuto stood, his bitter expression lightening up just enough for a smile. He stood up, making his way to his kitchen. “Yes, I am! I’ll be here for a month.”

“How exciting,” Bokuto could hear the smile in Akaashi’s voice. “If you’re free, let’s meet up? I haven’t seen you in quite a while.” Bokuto filled up a glass of water, sipping it.

“I always have time for you, Akaashi!” Bokuto boomed, causing Akaashi to chuckle.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san. I have to go now. I hope you’re doing well.”

“See you soon, Akaashi.”

Bokuto stood in the deafening silence of his kitchen. A heavy sigh left him, shoulders sagging. Akaashi’s calming presence had soothed some of his anxiety about being alone, but it was also a stark reminder that he was alone. Weary golden eyes scanned the kitchen.

“Kou! You’re making a mess,” she squealed, grabbing at his hands. He had been frantically whipping the bowl of cookie dough, causing it to splatter everywhere.

“No, I’m not!” He argued.

She pulled it away, wiping a bit of the splatter off of her cheek. “You sure about that?”

“Okay, maybe.” Bokuto sighed, grabbing a towel to try and wipe down the counter. He was startled when cold liquid landed on his cheek. “Huh?” He whirled around, wiping at his cheek to find a splatter of the dough on his cheeks. “Oh you’re gonna get it,” he grinned. A handful of flour went flying at her as she attempted to run around the island.

“Kou!” She shrieked, the flour landing all over her face. (Name) lunged for an egg, smashing it on top of his head. She froze, eyes widening at the silly sight. “Oh my god, you look ridiculous!”

“You’ve got three seconds.” Bokuto wiped the dripping egg whites off of his forehead.

She backed up, tripping over her own feet. “You wouldn’t do anything drastic, right Kou?” She cooed, panic rising in her voice.

“Of course not, love. I just wanna hug you!” With that, he lunged and cracked an egg down her shirt. Laughter filled the air as they chased each other around, their plan to make cookies long-forgotten.

He sighed. If only he could turn back time. Maybe he’d have this taste of domesticity for the rest of his life. A home instead of a temporary apartment. Someone who would come rushing to greet him once he came home instead of the void left in his heart and bed. Bokuto sighed just before his phone vibrated in his hand.

Future wifey: When did you want to meet?

****

The next day...

“So, Bokuto is back in town? And (Name) is meeting him right now?” Kenma had Hikori on his lap, showing him how to play Minecraft. Kuroo was lounging on the bean-bag, alternating between watching his son and staring at his phone.

“Pretty much.” Kuroo sighed.

“How are you feeling about it?” Kenma patted Hikori’s head, pointing at something on the screen.

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not. If you were, you wouldn’t be sitting there sulking.” Kenma eyed his best friend disdainfully. “Not that I’m complaining, you know I enjoy Hikori’s company.” His yellow eyes surveyed the screen. “You can mine those blocks, Hiki.”

“Ok, Ken-san!” Hikori’s pink tongue stuck out as he examined the keyboard to press the right buttons.

“Fine, you’re right. I’m worried.”

“Why?”

“What if she still wants Bokuto?” Kuroo hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip. “I mean, they were together for almost four years.” Hazel eyes gazed with affection and a glimmer of resignation at his son. Turmoil overwhelmed him. Would Hikori prefer his biological father over him? Would she prefer Bokuto? No matter what, it had always felt that Bokuto was her first love, not him. “And they have something...permanently tying them together.”

“You’ve also been with her for the same amount of time.” Kenma cleared his throat, shifting his sharp gaze away from Kuroo. “I think that connection is more-so between you and her,” Kenma shrugged. “It’s not like he was involved other than genetically.”

“That wasn’t his fault though,” Kuroo argued. “If he hadn’t gotten the deal that day, he would’ve known and it would be him here instead of me.”

“But he did and it is you, not him.” Kenma looked down at his friend. “You’ve known each other for almost fifteen years. You’ve loved her for a majority of that time, whether you knew it or not.” He took control of the mouse, helping Hikori fight off a zombie. “She’s loved you for just as long. It doesn’t matter what they had together. You’ve already beat him in every possible way.” A smirk made its way onto his face as he watched Hikori play. “You’ve maxed your friendship levels. He’d have to start over at this point.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes. “You’re such a gamer.”

“A rich one.”

Kuroo’s face brightened as he cackled. “Thanks Kenma. You always know how to cheer me up.”

“Our friendship points are maxed out too, Kuro.”

“Ken-san!” Hikori pointed at the screen excitedly. “I just caught this!”

“Good job, Hiki.” Kenma patted the boy’s head affectionately.

****

A few days later...

“Akaashi?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“Can we meet up?”

“Of course. I’ll text you the address of a pearl drink place, okay?”

Akaashi hung up, sighing. It had been years since he heard Bokuto so...depressed. The wing-spiker had worked hard to overcome his “emo” modes from high school, and it no longer affected him during games, but apparently something brought it back and Akaashi had an idea of what that it might be…

“So you met (Name)?”

Bokuto nodded, chewing on the tapioca balls. “Yeah, we ran into each other at the game a few days ago.”

Akaashi hesitated. “How was that?”

“S’okay, I guess.” Bokuto shrugged, spinning in the raised chair. The two sat in bar-stools at Akaashi’s favorite pearl tea shop. Though, it was only his favorite since it was so close to his work-place. “We met up to talk the other day and caught up. I didn’t know she and Kuroo got married.”

The former setter hummed. “Yeah, they got married before Hikori was born.”

Bokuto threw his arms up. “That’s the thing! I didn’t even know they were talking together. Let alone that they were interested in each other like that.” Bokuto sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I can’t believe I came back to find my best friend having a baby with my ex-girlfriend.”

Akaashi tilted his head, twisting the straw wrapper. “I’m more surprised you didn’t come back sooner with all things considered.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Akaashi cleared his throat, “I figured you would visit more after finding out that Hikori is your son.”

Bokuto froze, short-circuiting. “He’s what?”

Akaashi paused, looking up from his pearl drink. “She didn’t tell you?” His eyebrows furrowed. “They promised that they would.”

“Congratulations, Kuroo-san.” Akaashi nodded at Kuroo and (Name). They were at (Name)’s house as she hosted Hikori’s ‘Sip and See’ party and Aya’s baby shower. The coworkers had become exceptionally close after being joined together by parenthood. The expecting mother was entertaining other guests in the living room while (Name) and Kuroo entertained their guests in the backyard.

“Do you want to hold him, Akaashi?” (Name) offered, arms cradling a bundle of blankets.

Akaashi smiled, bowing slightly. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course, I trust you.” She giggled, gently placing Hikori into Akaashi’s arms.

“I’ll be back, love.” Kuroo kissed (Name)’s head, nodding at Akaashi before heading over to greet his coworkers.

Akaashi rocked Hikori slightly, a gentle smile on his face. “He has his eyes, y’know.” (Name) murmured, looking down at her son and carding through his soft locks.

“Does he now?” Akaashi hummed. Hikori yawned, opening up his eyes as he woke up from his nap. With wide golden eyes, Hikori reached for Akaashi’s face. Akaashi chuckled, bringing his finger to Hikori’s small chubby hands. The baby squealed with laughter as he grabbed onto Akaashi’s index finger. “Does Bokuto-san know?” Akaashi peeked up at (Name).

“Not yet.”

Kuroo returned, catching their conversation. Akaashi kept his attention on (Name). “Will you tell him?”

“Of course Akaashi.” Akaashi fixed her with a hard stare, raising an eyebrow. “I promise, we’ll tell him.”

“Akaashi.” Gunmetal eyes slid to look over at Kuroo who grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. “We promise, Bokuto will know.”

“I have to go.”

“Good luck, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi called after him as Bokuto sprinted out of the store.

****

“Thanks for coming in! Be sure to keep doing those stretches at home, okay?” She instructed, waving her client out. She stepped out of the hall, leaving one of the dance studios.

“Hey (Name)?” The receptionist called urgently, waving at the female.

“Yes? Is everything okay?” (Name) walked forward. Rei approached her, bending to whisper into her ear.

“There’s someone here for you. He’s been pacing the lobby for quite some time now.”

“Who is it?” Her eyes widened, brows furrowing. She didn’t have any more clients that day. (Name) glanced at her watch, it was almost time to pick up Hikori from the on-site day-care center.

“He said his name was Bokuto?” (Name)’s jaw clenched, fingers twitching in agitation. “Oh, do you know him?” Rei asked, cocking her head. She could only nod, a million thoughts running through her mind.

“Yeah, thanks for telling me Rei. I’ll go see him right now.” She smoothed out her clothes, taking a deep breath before she stepped into the lobby. “Bokuto?” True to Rei’s words, Bokuto was anxiously pacing up and down the lobby, looking over his shoulder at the double doors every few steps. Bokuto looked like a mess. His hair was all-over the place, golden eyes red. At the sound of her voice, Bokuto whipped around. His lip was swollen and bruised, no doubt from apprehensive chewing.

“(Name)!” Bokuto sprinted towards her. “We need to talk.”

“It appears we do.” She looked around the lobby. “C’mon, let’s go to my office.”

Silence clung to them as they took the stairs up to her office, which had been moved to a different wing. As soon as she shut the door, Bokuto whirled on her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That Hikori is my son!” He slammed his palm onto her desk, startling her.

Tears welled up in her eyes. “I...we...I was going to tell you,” she whispered. “When Hikori was older.”

Name let out a sigh of relief, tugging the blanket under Hikori’s chin. Muscular arms snaked around her waist as the couple stood staring down at their baby. “Let him sleep,” Kuroo whispered into her ear, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek and gently tugging her towards the door. Kuroo slipped out first while she paused to turn on some classical music. Her husband was bustling around the kitchen, pouring them mugs of warmed milk. “Is everything okay?” He asked, glancing up at her.

“Do you think we should tell Bokuto?”

Kuroo’s hands froze as he stopped mixing honey in, eyes focused on the mug with an unreadable expression. “Bokuto?”

She hummed in response. (Name) stepped in between his arms, wrapping her arms around his chest. “I mean, biologically that’s his child.” Kuroo hesitated as a hand reassuringly rubbed his back. “Hikori is still your son,” she clarified, “and he always will be.” (Name) pulled back, looking up at Kuroo, her lips brushing his cheek. ‘But I think he’d want to know. Heavens knows you would want to if the situation was reversed.” She shrugged as she bit her bottom lip. “Bokuto doesn’t need to know any time soon.”

Kuroo nodded reluctantly, resting his forehead on hers. “Why don’t we wait until Hikori is old enough to decide whether or not he wants to meet Bokuto?” he suggested, closing his eyes. “Introducing Bokuto too soon might cause confusion or unnecessary stress to Hiki.”

A puff of warm air blew across his face as she contemplated his offer. “That’s fair. He isn’t missing a father figure and he might get confused.” Her eyes glowed with determination. “Alright. Let’s hold off on telling him until he’s old enough to understand.” Kuroo pressed a kiss first to her forehead then her lips. “Thank you for being so understanding, love.”

Kuroo let out a soft laugh. “Anything for you, my love.”

“Don’t you think I had a right to know?” Bokuto was pacing around her office, aggravation evident in all of his movements. Fear locked her jaw. “Why didn’t you tell me when we met up the other day?” He snarled, running his hand through his hair again. The knock at her door shook her out of her reverie.

She cleared her throat, glancing at the door. “Yes?”

“(Nickname)? Are you ok?”

She swallowed, steadying her voice and steeling her nerves. “Yeah, Iwaizumi. I’m fine, just dropped something.”

“Alright then. I’m next door if you need anything!”

“Thank you!” She pinched her nose, taking more deep breaths. “Look, Bokuto. You left.” She hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Years ago. I didn’t hear from you until. This. Week.”

“That’s not my fault!” Bokuto argued, grabbing her wrist. “You told me to go!” He threw her hand away from him, golden eyes narrowed.

“I did.” She nodded, closing her eyes. Her nostrils flared as she took deep breaths. “I wanted you to be happy and to be the pro-player you always wanted to be.”

“Babe, guess what?” She looked up from the tea-cup that sat in front of her, over the pastries as (e/c) eyes made contact with gold. Her eyebrows quirked up as she took a sip. Bokuto could hardly contain his own excitement as he blurted out, “I just got scouted!”

Her eyes widened, choking slightly on the hot beverage. “Really? That’s great!”

He nodded eagerly. “Yeah, it’s a two-year contract for now. They want to send me to their training camp starting next week and I’ll be gone for the next six months. After that, I’m going to officially join the team and everything!” A soft pout made its way to his face as he played with his fingers. He didn’t want to leave her - not when she was so close to finishing up school. “That means I have to leave this weekend.”

Delicately placing the tea-cup down, a soft hand reached out for his. “Kou, it’s okay. This is the opportunity you’ve been looking for all of your life.” (Name) swallowed thickly, causing him to tilt his head at her. What was the matter? But his worries were quelled with her next words. “I’m not going to keep you here. Please, go live your life and you better be the best ace out there, okay?”

Apprehension bubbled in his stomach, something didn’t feel right. He grasped her hand harder, fixing her with a paralysing golden stare. “We can make this work! I’ll come home to visit, and we’ll call every day, I promise.” Silently, he promised to himself, ‘And when you’re finished with school, I will come back and bring you with me.’

The corner of her lips graced him with a timid smile. “I’m sure we can.”

“I love you.” Bokuto’s plush lips caressed her hand, squeezing it tightly once more. His heart felt warm knowing that he had her support. Knowing that he had a plan for their future now. Excitement filled him once more as he imagined it. Him, established in his professional volleyball career. Her, joining him in Osaka and building her own future as they joined their lives together as full-fledged adults.

She squeezed back, looking at their intertwined hands. “I love you too.”

His eyes widened, the memory hitting him out of nowhere sending a surge of fury through him. Bokuto lunged towards her, both hands now clasped onto her wrists. “Does Hikori know?” Bokuto demanded.

Her eyes widened. “Kou, that hurts,” she whimpered, trying to tug out of his grip.

“Does Hikori know?” Bokuto trembled like a leaf during the season's change.

“No, he doesn’t.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “We were going to wait until he was older so that he would understand.”

“So you hid it from both of us?” Bokuto scoffed. Hurt and anger crossed his expression. “Why would you lie?”

(Name) yanked her arms away, rage surging through her. Red marks were left on her arms and were rubbed furiously. “Bokuto, you left me. You ghosted me. You have absolutely no right to come in here demanding jack-shit from me after that.” She let out a deep laugh, eyes glinting dangerously. “Why would I tell my son that his father abandoned his mother especially when there was already someone else there to love and raise him?”

At her words, Bokuto deflated, anger dissipating completely. “I’m...I’m sorry, (Name). I didn’t…I.” Bokuto collapsed onto her patient table, face buried into his palms. “I’m so sorry,” he whimpered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or to abandon you. It was just so hard, I didn’t want to hold you back.” Hot tears dripped down his face and splattered onto the ground. “Fuck, (Name). I was in so much pain when I left. I didn’t…I couldn’t…Not like this.” Bokuto’s body shook in sobs. Her anger faded as she watched him. Pity overwhelmed her, causing her throat to tighten.

She stepped closer, hesitantly wrapping her arms around his quivering form. Bokuto stiffened before burying his face into her shoulder. “It’s okay, Kou. I know,” she cooed softly.

His body trembled as he clung onto her, struggling to breath. “I know I don’t deserve it but I...I wanna try again. Can I just try to be a part of Hikori’s life? We don’t even need to get back together,” he rambled in sheer desperation, tears soaking into her shirt. How could they? He had been replaced long ago and he hadn’t even realised it. “He doesn’t need to know that I’m his dad. Not yet.” Another sob tore through his body as his grip tightened. “I just want to be a part of his life. Is that okay?”

(Name) bit her lip, glancing at the picture frame on her desk. Hikori and Kuroo stared back at her. Hikori was perched on Kuroo’s shoulders as they wandered the festival streets waiting for the firework show.

“Please.” He whispered hoarsely, pulling back to reveal golden eyes that glistened with pain. “I know I don’t deserve your kindness. But please.” Bokuto took a shaky breath only to break out into harsher sobs. “Please (Name).”

*****

Fun Facts

💟 “Au” means ‘meeting’

💟 Though he was used to answering the ‘regrets’ question, it never not easier for Bokuto

💟 Bokuto had planned on renting the apartment for only a week - enough time to meet up with (Name) and then ask to stay with her, but ultimately extended his reservation in order to recuperate

💟 Kuroo had never really gotten over his insecurities about Hikori’s birth

💟 Kenma loved showing Hikori how to play games, and they would often meet up monthly for game nights. (Name) refused to put Hikori in the spotlight though so Kenma wasn’t allowed to stream whenever Hikori was over

💟 Bokuto was overwhelmed with his own emotions and insecurities regarding Kuroo’s relationship with (Name) [more on this next chapter]

💟 Japanese people call milk-tea/boba/bubble tea drinks ‘tapoica juice’

💟 Akaashi never brought it up to Bokuto because he assumed that Bokuto would have mentioned it to him if he wanted to talk about it. Unfortunately, Akaashi was not surprised about how things ended up happening

💟 (Name) was surprised that Bokuto remembered where she worked. When they had met-up, Bokuto had seemed zoned out for a majority of it.

💟 (Name)’s office was moved closer to Iwaizumi’s office due to reasons

💟 (Name) isn’t the type to get angry. But when Bokuto started making demands while getting angry and violent, she couldn’t help but lash out. She had been suppressing her own rage at him for years

*****

Please feel free to pop into my inbox if you have any questions, comments, or concerns 💞 I love interacting with you all!

Taglist: @toaster-stick @thatartsybitch @brazil-hinata @sawamooora @anejuuuuoy @abby-rutledge20 @babybluebisexual @badboysdoitbetter2 @liathachcapricious @cosmiclunas @wishingforanother @setterfish @toobsessedsstuff @yeehawslap @shadowkunoichi @haikyuusimp91 @firebonbon @mentalydisturbed@samkysnks @dolan-mendes @loudpoetry23 @estmagnifique @milkteeboba @newfriendjen @sempiternal-amour @scrappydaisies @ mayor-chu-of-many-towns @bokutosdivineass @yeahhemmings- @elianetsantana @strawhatshepard @caramel-chuuya @sol-demure @song-of-storms162 @rogueofbullshit @cheerysparkle @killlerqween @aomineavenue @fatal-impact @isleofnajera @safa-a07 @shoyomeow @vicassa

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Flock Together (LoV x Reader)

Pairing: League of Villains x Reader, platonic relationship

Appearances by Dabi, Shigaraki, and Mr. Compress

@dastfast678 requested: “Could you make a another LOV X child!reader, one where the hero's try to "recused" Y/N but they just tells them off?”

Genre: Slight angst

Word Count: 1,442

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: Thanks for the request! I’m sorry it took so long to do...

Yes, the title is akin to the "birds of a feather" saying. I will also tell you guys that in this universe, if the League ever got caught before things blew up to as big as they've gotten in the manga, the villains would have pulled a Gentle Criminal for the reader. You’ll see why I say that later.

This is still in the same continuity as my other LoV posts, but it can also be a different one as well. Not that I’m planning anything for it, but I think it’s just nice to keep a similar timeline between some of my posts I guess.

Funny how I always end up running when I'm faced with important milestones. I ran when I realized my parents were gone right into the hands of people I thought were going to kill me. And they turned out to be much better than I expected, I have to say.

My former classmate at UA had found me while I was out to get food for the League. They were really craving pizza today and now I have to run. I'm gonna get an earful from them later for coming back late.

They were gonna find me eventually, I should've been prepared. I never even thought of the excuse I was going to use when they inevitably did.

A hand catches my shoulder and I almost scream, only to turn around and see Kaminari. Damnit, I thought he hadn't seen me. When I caught him walking the opposite way as me, I'd hoped I could get away before he realized it was me.

He smiles naturally. "Hey, (Y/n)! I thought I saw you walking around here!" Before I can say anything he grips me into a tight hug. "Gosh, we were all worried about you! Where have you been all this time?"

I pry his grip off of me gently. "I've just...been here, you know, living my life."

For a moment, Kaminari hesitates before he whines out an exhale. "Agh, I can't do this. (Y/n), they kinda sent me to...rescue you, because we had the best relationship."

I furrow my eyebrows "Rescue me?" Should've known. At least they didn't send Midoriya.

"Yeah, sorry about this."

Kaminari suddenly drags me by the arm into the nearest alley. "What the hell-!?" Soon I'm faced with two other figures, both of of them I know very well also. Damnit, they did send Midoriya.

"Before you say anything, no one else knows we're here, it's just us," Midoriya blurts out.

"I'm surprised Todoroki isn't here," I respond lamely, sighing at the mini intervention. "It's usually the two of you acting on whims together."

"It was my idea this time," Kaminari admits as he rubs the back of his neck. "The school's officially taking you off the roster and we at least wanted to look for you one last time."

My fist clenches and I look down. "I didn't know I'd be so missed."

"We were very worried about you! It's not becoming of a young hero-in-training to miss class!" Iida chops at the air. It's nice to know he hasn't changed much.

"How did you guys even know I was here?"

"That's not important," Midoriya answers quickly and takes a step towards me. Concern fills his face. "(Y/n), please come back. We don't know why you left, but we can sort it out."

I'm silent, holding his pleading gaze with my own icy stare. "You guys said no one else knows you're here. Keep it that way and leave. No one else needs to know where I am or what I'm doing." I turn to walk away.

"Are you with the League?" Kaminari's voice sounds broken, a stark contrast from his usual upbeat, dorky tone.

I'm taken aback by how he could've known that, but I brush it off. "That's none of your business."

He forces out a nervous laugh. "I think I get it, you want to stay and gather intell-"

"No, I'm staying because I want to stay." My conviction is firm. There's no point in denying it.

Iida pushes up his glasses. "It looks like they've brainwashed you, (Y/n)-san, this isn't like you. You were always so quiet-"

"Yeah, but you had no idea why!" I close my eyes and breath. It's not worth it to blow up and tell them everything that's happened, it's in the past and I'm working on resolving it myself. "I don't need to be a hero anymore, it won't solve my problems like I thought before."

"So you'd rather be a villain?! Taking innocent lives?!"

"I don't do any of that!" I snarl back at him.

"But you will eventually!"

"And I'll figure it out when the time comes!" Their faces fall. "They may be villains, but they've helped me so much more than when I was in UA! I feel safe with them. They're my new family, and I'm staying with them."

"Well, that's touching."

The boys in front of me stiffen at the voice behind me. I turn to see Shigaraki, Dabi, and Mr. Compress approaching in the darkness of the alleyway.

"We were wondering what was taking you so long, so we had to come check," the masked man haughtily explains, dropping a hand on top of my head. My former classmates go pale at the sight. They probably think he was going to hurt me.

"We meet again, Midoriya Izuku." Shigaraki's cracked lips turn up into a crazed smirk and Midoriya gulps.

"UA kids all alone, huh," Dabi comments. "What was their big plan? To come kidnap you back to them? They would have to do through us first." His palm lights up with blue flames. "I'm sure Toga would've liked to see this boy again."

"I've been dying to try my new trick on someone!" Compress waves his hands dramatically, a few marbles appearing between his fingers. "I've got the props all ready right here!"

"Don't hurt them," I say blankly. I don't have much power over them, but I can at least give my opinion. "It's not worth getting into a struggle with them now."

"(Y/n)'s right," Shigaraki sighs and buries his hands in his pockets. "Besides, my stomach's eating itself I'm so hungry. We can settle this another day."

The three of them start exiting and I want to follow behind them, but Kaminari catches my shoulder. "Are you really going with them? You chose them over us?" His crestfallen expression tugs at a soft spot in my chest, but I've already reached a point where it doesn't sway me.

I shrug him off. "You're lucky you're getting out of here without struggle because of me." My voice and my glare are icy toward each of them before I turn and follow the rest out of the alley. "The next time we see each other, we'll be on different sides. I hope you'll be prepared to see me again when it happens."

There's a bitter taste in my mouth as we leave the alleyway. It's not like I feel nothing for them, they were my former classmates after all. The regret I sometimes feel is something more akin to curiosity than anything. If I hadn't run into the League, where would I be? Would I be content the same way as I am now? Am I content? Is this the best I could be doing?

Did I make the right choice?

"Listen kid." Dabi hangs back a little since I'm falling behind from the rest of them. "I don't have the right to tell you what decision you should've made in your life or ask why you decided to live with a bunch of raggedy good-for-nothings like us," he looks up at the other two and leans over, "But if you wanted to walk away from all of this, you still can."

My eyes widen, and for a moment, all the memories of my time in the League come rushing back. All the laughs we shared, the late nights they helped me get through, playing games with them, the take out nights like these. They aren't my family, but it's the closest thing I have to something like that. Even the thought of leaving them leaves a devastating sinking feeling in my chest. "Never," I gasp, breath taken from me at the suggestion.

The man scans me, cocking an eyebrow. "You'd really rather be associated with lawbreakers just because we took you in?"

My face falls. "Is that a bad thing?"

He pauses, not having anything to say to that, and there's a trace of shock in his features. His face relaxes and he clasps his hands behind his neck casually. "I guess you really do fit with us, you've got issues."

I can't help but smile at his words; it's the closest I'll get to him explicitly admitting his appreciation for me. "I don't think it's the issues, it's the broken-ness."

"No kid, you're just weird." His large, burnt hand plops on top of my head as he sighs. "Ah, we're gonna have to move hideouts again. I was actually liking this place."

"The pizza here is most delicious!" Compress pipes up in agreement.

"Ugh, this is why we can't have nice things, you guys always ruin it," Shiguraki groans. "Goodbye, delicious and crunchy thin crust pizza..."

"Oh, don't be a drama queen," Dabi rolls his eyes.

Well, regardless of if this was a correct decision, I might as well enjoy it while it lasts. All this might be worth all the trouble I'll get into in the future.

#league of villians x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dabi #shigaraki tomura #mr compress #request #slight angst #platonic #gender neutral reader #league of villains imagine #league of villains scenario #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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marvelsimp · 3 years

Text

The New Kid: Now or Later

Ch. 7

The New Kid Masterlist

My Masterlist

Genre: fluff, angst

Pairing: Peter & Lesbian!reader, Avengers & Reader, Wanda x Reader, side Steve x Bucky,

Warnings: Panic, panic attack

Description: Reader goes to her first Stark party.

Reader’s Powers: Healer, telepath, and empath.

Word Count: 1538

Tonight is one of Tony Stark’s infamous parties. You, Wanda, and Peter were all invited but you were all threatened for what would happen if you drank. The bartenders even had pictures of all three of you so that you couldn’t trick them.

A few weeks before this Peter, Wanda, and Nat took you shopping to update your closet and more importantly to get you outfits for parties and formal events. You got many beautiful outfits for future events but since this was your first Stark party you decided to get a custom suit. The final price was way beyond what you could ever afford by yourself so you double-checked with Tony. He laughed at you, head tilt and all, saying, “That cheap? I have t-shirts more expensive than that!”

“No! That is not what happened!” You threw chips at your best friend who just told a story. That has many ridiculous additions.

He looked at you with that stupid, goofy grin that’s almost always on his face. “That’s what I remember!”

“You can exaggerate the story a little bit… but that… was NOT a little bit!”

You were hanging out in one of the many rooms on the “Party Floor” with several of the avengers. The party had technically started but not many people were there yet. Peter was telling the story of you getting lost in Queens, aka when he gave you simple directions and you somehow ended up in Times Square.

“Okay! Hush you two!” Sam finally yelled over the teenage bickering. “I still do not understand how the hell you walked to Times Square from Queens in half an hour.”

“Yeah, I don’t get it either,” Said Steve, who looked very concerned and most of all lost himself.

“I don’t get it either!” This caused a few snorts and short laughs from the group.

“Ok, but how did you not get caught? That is some spy shit.”

Wanda giggled at your question. “When I was little I thought I was just ‘lucky’ or ‘skilled’ or something but now I’m pretty sure it was a probability spell,” She explained as if it was something so casual. She deemed it as the naivety of a child instead of just the fact that most people at that point in time didn’t believe in spells or witches. “So, моя любовь, what do you want to eat?” She grinned, her nose crinkled like it always did when she teased.

Before you could question the name you heard a cackle across the room. It was terrifying, mainly because it was Nat’s but also because of how sudden and loud it was to hear. Joy. You looked at the woman with bright red hair who had her head tipped back and looked like she couldn’t breathe. “Ok… umm what does that mean? Because now I’m concerned..”

“Come on Nat you’re supposed to be the best spy on the planet!”

“Universe!” Tony corrected. He looked just as confused as you felt.

You could see Bucky smiling and whispering in Steve’s ear. Something that translated from Sokovian to Russian pretty easily, unless they both knew Sokovian which would not be surprising. “Helpful,” you stared at the Bucky who had his arm on the couch back behind Steve, who was now grinning, too. Bucky just winked in response.

Great. You could feel the happiness coming from them but you couldn’t tell because it was funny or cute. Was it because Wanda just insulted you or because she called you something sweet?

You turned back to Wanda who was giving you a mischievous grin. “Don’t make that face.” You grinned back. “I’ll take whatever you said as a compliment. Thank you very much,” you said with a twinge of bitterness but you both knew that it had no real value.

More and more people started arriving, you haven’t been around this many people since before you got your powers. It was starting to overwhelm you. In. One. Two. Three. Four. Out. One. Two. Three. Four. Breathe. Breathe.

You continued the night pretty normally but every once in a while you would pause and take a deep breath. It wasn’t until people started to get drunk that it became a problem.

You were sitting with Peter and Wanda who were retelling their versions of the Sokovia Accords and that whole mess. You were trying so hard to pay attention to listen but you couldn’t. It was finally overwhelming, everyone’s voices, everyone’s thoughts and feelings it was completely overwhelming. You’d basically stopped breathing and all that you wanted to do now was to leave.

It wasn’t until there was a tap on your shoulder that you realized that Wanda had been talking to you. “Y/n/n, are you okay?” Her face, voice, and even her emotions were full of concern. She was worried and she had every right because your breathlessness was turning into hyperventilation. You tried to focus just on her but ever that, she was overwhelming.

You shook your head.

Peter’s attention had turned to you too, “What’s wrong?” He was the same as Wanda, overwhelmingly concerned.

It was hard to even understand him, much less talk. You reached toward him and touched him, making him feel what you felt for just a moment.

“Oh, God! We need to get her out of here,” he turned to Wanda who was ready to do anything.

She gave you her hand and helped you up and then started to escort you to the elevators, Peter was close behind.

“Peter, you stay here and I’ll go with her,” Wanda told him once you arrived at the elevators.

He looked at Wanda and then at you. You were out of it, you were leaning on the witch who looked uncharacteristically concerned. He decided that saying anything wouldn’t help so he nodded and walked away.

Wanda directed you to the now-open elevator and pushed the button to the roof. She put her hand in yours and held on like your life depended on it. As the elevator rose your mind became less and less noisy until you could only feel her. Then the doors opened and she led you out. Your breathing hand slowed down and was only slightly faster than normal. The only person that you could focus on was her. She was beautiful, her hair was blowing in the wind, you could see the mix of brown at the top and the more faded orange at the bottom. She turned to her with that same concern that she’s had for the last five minutes.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “Thank you.” Both of your voices were quiet and despite the loud wind sounding you both, you understood each other perfectly. You were absorbed in her and she was absorbed in you.

Her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes were drowning. She took in a deep, sharp breath, and then her arms were around you. She held you close and squeezed you tight. “You’ve been so different since Peter got hurt and I wanted to give you time,” she separated from you and looked into your eyes, “I really did want to give you time but… You feel so fucking far. When I reach out you're always out of my reach. I know that we haven’t known each other for long but we have this.” She paused for a second trying to find the right word. “Connection and I really don't want it to be broken. I have lost so much, my parents, Pietro, my county, Vision, Billy, Tommy, and then Vision again and I don't think I would survive losing you too.”

Tears were rolling down her face and forming in your eyes. You could feel her hurt, pain, sadness, yearning, fear, and everything else she was feeling. Every word she was saying was true, you were different. Sure you laughed and talked and interacted pretty close to normal but you were distant and cold. You were calculating which could be good but it wasn’t you. And most of all you were afraid of losing Peter, Wanda, and the rest of this group that you now call your family but most of all you were afraid of losing yourself. These powers were often overwhelming and these months since you've been kicked out have been hard. They have been the hardest thing that you’ve ever had to go through.

“Y/n,” she cupped your cheek with her left hand. “ Please just talk to me. I’m here and I just want you to be you again. Tell me what’s wrong and I can fix it or help you through it, at least. If you’re not ready to talk I’m still here. I can help even if it’s just as a distraction. Now or later.”

Tears were running down your face too. The girl in front of you understood what you felt. She understands pain and loss and betrayal. All that she wants is for you to be safe and loved just like you want for her. “I can’t tell you. It’s just too much to say.” She followed every word staring intently at you, only wanting to help. “Can we just sit for a while?”

She nodded.

Next Chapter

Dream or reality

Taglist

@wandas-love

#the new kid #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #reader insert #lesbian reader #the avengers x reader

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kabira · 4 years

Text

04 | solo

pairing — spider-man!vernon x ofc

featuring — joshua, yeji (itzy), felix (skz), yangyang (nct)

word count — 2.6k

genres — spider-man au, marvel au, fluff, action, angst, humor

warnings — one instance of profanity

go to fic masterlist | main masterlist

“You’re being a bitch.”

Vernon closed his locker’s door with a click before turning around, looking at the ceiling in exasperation when he heard the accusatory voice. There was a tube light directly above him, brilliant and blinding right in his sight. He turned away as quickly as he had looked up, blinking back the dark spots in his stinging eyes.

He didn’t bother acknowledging Lucy before making his way down the hallway, bag slung over one shoulder. His muscles ached from the previous night’s encounter—he’d ended up swinging around for longer than usual, long after the three had to go back to the Helicarrier for their bedtime. Knowing May wouldn’t be waiting up for him back home had made him a little careless, and the exertion during gym hadn’t helped.

“Don’t you walk away from me, mister!” Luce called behind him. When she saw that he wasn’t stopping, she blew air out of her mouth in irritation before jogging to catch up. “Vernon! What is up with you?”

The hallway was mostly empty, which wasn’t that surprising. He’d had to stay back in the lab to clean up his new partner’s chemical spill, which had, of course, been blamed on him instead. The old Parker luck. “I need to get home, Luce.”

“Do you?” she asked, and he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. A muscle in her jaw was working, tensing and relaxing at periodic intervals, her eyes fixed on some point in the distance. She was usually relaxed, but her current gait was constrained, like a coiled-up spring. “I saw how you nailed that new kid in gym today. You usually opt out of dodgeball, but—”

“He had it coming,” Vernon said dismissively, but his lips thinned. The new guy she was referring to was Yangyang, who did have it coming, because of his little incident in the cafeteria the day before. Maybe it was a little uncalled for, but Vernon still honestly believed he had deserved it at least a little bit. “And you’re not supposed to chew gum in the school.”

“Neither are you supposed to be mean to people for no reason, but we’re all sinners.” Luce shrugged, and he bit back a few choice words. She pushed through the door as they reached the exit, and he shielded his eyes against the hot midday sun that’s shone directly at them. “For real, though. You got him good—I’ve never seen you so hostile towards anyone save for Flash. Did Yangyang say something to you?”

For some reason, her knowing his name annoyed Vernon even further. “Did you get the answers to those questions yesterday?” he asked, switching the subject.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Very funny.” The laces of her converse were untied, a band pin on the lapel of her jacket wobbly, a few strands loose from her dark ponytail. He blinked, tearing his mind away from the little details of her appearance and tried to focus on walking. Left, right, left. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yeah, well, I had a headache last night,” he said, grateful he didn’t have to hunt for excuses. His thoughts were already sluggish. “You can ask May.”

“I meant the one about Yangyang.” She paused, and he paused with her, taking a few steps before backtracking towards her. Her eyes were downcast, brow creased thoughtfully. Unconscious little gestures he knew like the back of his hand. Then she glanced up at him, right at him, so suddenly that when her eyes met his he swayed on his feet a little. “You don’t want to tell me, do you?”

I can’t, I’m sorry. But cryptic answers never helped. The last time he had tried withholding something from her that wasn’t his Spider-Man secret—the planned surprise party, for instance—she had persevered until he accidentally let it slip. Plus, she was sharp. A couple of new students, a few matching injuries, and she’d guess those three were superheroes right away. And where would he be then?

“It’s a guy thing,” he said instead, a little white lie he hoped would do the trick. Vernon raked a hand through his hair, pressing his lips into a smile as he squinted at her. “You’re going to embarrass me in front of all these pigeons.”

“The pigeons are half-dead because of New York’s air pollution, I’m pretty sure they have more important things to worry about than some guy’s adjustment problems,” she said, resuming her walk. He waited for her to pass him before following. “Look, I know the new kids are a sudden change after—” She bit the inside of her bottom lip. “Well. After…you know.”

All of a sudden, the atmosphere turned gloomier, as if a cloud had passed overhead. “Yeah,” Vernon said thickly, voice cracking. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know.”

Lucy glanced at him, and though he wasn’t looking directly at her, he could sense the regret in her eyes. “It must be difficult for them, too,” she said. “Joining a new school in the middle of a session, just a few weeks after…all that.” She shrugged, looking at him, and their eyes met. “There’s no harm in being decent.”

He looked away, feeling the lining of his stomach go hot-and-cold. Even a mention of the incident turned every sunny conversation into something dark and somber, even though it had been months already. The counselor/agent had tried making him open up about it as well, but he’d snapped at her, only to regret it right after. It was a difficult subject for him, especially since he felt at least partially responsible for what had happened—but he couldn’t tell Luce that without revealing more than he was supposed to.

“So you’re still trying to score an interview with Tony Stark?” he asked instead, trying to steer the conversation towards a different topic. “I still can’t believe the board’s letting you do that.”

“Honestly? I think the only reason they agreed to it is because then they won’t have to assign me to anything of real importance,” she said with a small laugh. “They think I can’t do it.”

“Can you?”

“I have my ways,” she said, a glint in her eye. “I’d tell you how, but it’s too dangerous to involve an innocent civilian in my plans.”

“Uh-huh.” He tried not to shake his head. Oh, the irony. “You don’t have to talk to Stark, you know. I’m sure there were other civilian witnesses to the Goblin incident.”

“Yeah, but their accounts have already been reported. I need a superhero for this job.” She blew a strand of her hair out of her eyes. “If not him, who else am I going to talk to? Spider-Man?”

He laughed awkwardly. “Maybe?”

“I think Stark might be easier than that.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s kind of the point of the mask.”

He looked at her in half-surprise, unsure what to feel. They had talked about Spider-Man before, of course, but only in passing. A masked vigilante wouldn’t really be central to their usual conversations. Still, he hadn’t expected her to say that. “Yeah,” he murmured, feeling oddly warm. “I guess it is.”

“Oh, look,” she said, stopping in her tracks again. Vernon raised his eyebrows, following her line of sight to a Daily Bugle billboard on the side of a tall building. “Jameson’s having a field day with those photos of the new guys.”

He took a long look at the screen, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “Why would you show me that?” he mumbled. On the top right corner of the screen was a blurry picture of him with Tiger, Nova, and Iceman, looking like a perfectly normal team of superheroes fighting crime—except for the leftover webbing clinging to Nova’s costume. Distractedly, Vernon wondered what Jameson made of that little detail.

“As a sighting in Queens last night reported, it seems that Spider-Man has now deemed it fit to invite even more of his delinquent partners into this city!” the man on the screen yelled. If Vernon tried hard enough, maybe he could even see little spit bubbles form in Jameson’s salt-and-pepper moustache during the passionate rant. “With crime rates already increasing steadily ever since the arrival of this masked menace, who knows what kind of mayhem the new additions to his team will spell for New York?”

Always the charmer.

“…anyway,” Luce muttered. She was frowning at the screen, but seemed unable to look away. “Who do you think those guys are?”

“Those guys?” Vernon echoed, awkwardly running his thumb along the strap of his bag. What could he say that would arouse the least suspicion? “They seem new.”

Nailed it.

“Right,” she mumbled, looking distracted, like her mind was far away—never a good sign with this one. “But, as I was saying, I know the past month’s been hard for you. It’s been hard for me, too, but you shouldn’t take it out on a few unsuspecting newbies when they don’t deserve it.”

Vernon kissed his teeth, choosing to stay silent. The last thing he wanted right now was more impromptu therapy, but he knew that trying to dissuade Lucy from speaking would only encourage her. The best he could do was shut up and let her have it.

“You know what’s helped me deal with it?” she asked, and he raised his eyebrows, wanting to get it over with. “Working. Ever since I joined the school newspaper, I’ve been able to keep myself busy. Distracted. I don’t want to sound like a mom, but maybe something like that could work out for you—like an after-school job or something.”

Oh, you have no idea. But he only shrugged, keeping his eyes on the billboard. He had been able to keep busy as Spider-Man, a well-needed distraction from the pain, but now with those three around, it wasn’t the good kind.

“Maybe,” he murmured, watching on as Jameson gesticulated violently onscreen. “We’ll see.”

Vernon swung the drone trapped at the end of his web in a full circle before letting go, letting it fly through the training room into a collapsed structure of another laser. The drone exploded, sparking as it crashed, crushing the circuit of the lasers in the structure beneath it.

Dusting off his hands, he turned, facing the rest of his ‘team’-mates, who stood to one side, having been watching him as he single-handedly took on the subjects of their training session. He had been going at it for about half an hour now, and it had been strangely satisfying to get to throw stuff around for the heck of it.

Nova stood leaning against the wall next to the control panel, his arms folded over his chest. “You done yet?” he asked in a bored voice.

The drone Vernon had just disabled sparked again, shooting an angry red beam across the room. Vernon clicked his modified web shooters into condensed impact mode and webbed the drone again without looking. The drone crackled once, then its light went dark.

“I am now,” he said, dropping his arm. Felix watched him with bleary eyes as he turned and headed towards the exit, which slid open with a pneumatic hiss. “And since I managed to complete the mission objective solo, I think I’m going to head home.”

“Except you didn’t.” White Tiger landed in his path, executing a perfect handspring that arched high over his head. Her reflexes were as good as his—maybe even better, but he would probably never tell her that.

She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one leg. Despite the mask covering her features, he could sense how peeved she was through the sheer annoyance radiated by her posture. “The objective was to disable the bots without alerting the security system. You trashed the drones and crashed the system, and the power failure would have initiated a manual site-wide search. If this had been a real mission, we would have been discovered by now.”

“Except this isn’t a real mission,” he said, equally annoyed. “If it had been, I’m pretty sure I would have been able to do the job easily. Six armed drones against one spider? No competition.”

“And this was supposed to be a team effort,” she snapped. “If this had just been a solo training session, I would have had no problem with you doing what you just did. But in case you forgot, the whole point of this is to prepare us for team combat in real situations, to help us learn to work better, together. Your taking on everything alone wasn’t heroic, it was an obstruction of the purpose of this entire thing.”

She took a step back, suddenly, as if reeling from a blow, though he hadn’t even moved. The training room had gone silent—granted, it hadn’t been very noisy in the first, place, but her voice had been so loud and her words so rapid that Vernon had forgotten the silence. Now it pressed down on him, like another layer to his suit.

She dropped her arms to her sides, fingers curling in and out slightly, her claws retracting under the white gloves. “I know it’s difficult for you having to work with someone against your will,” she said, “and I know you don’t like us very much. But that’s not a good enough reason for you to throw away everything we’ve been training for. If you’re not going to be nice, at least try to be civil.”

She turned on his heel and stalked out the door. Vernon watched her go, right up until the doors slid back in place behind her.

He turned around, only to find the other two staring back at him. “Way to go,” Felix mumbled.

“You totally got schooled right there,” Yangyang said, though he didn’t sound very amused. “You know she takes this training stuff more seriously than any of us.” He shrugged; arms still folded. “Gotta be more sensitive than that.”

“Stop it,” Felix snapped at him, looking annoyed. “She only cares about this so much because it’s the only thing she’s got. You’ve got the Guardians, and I have—had—the X-Men, and probably a bunch of other mutant organizations, like the Frost Academy or something,” he added the last bit in an undertone, “but S.H.I.E.L.D.—after she lost her family, this is the only place she can turn to. That’s her one chance at making it, but this doofus is refusing to cooperate. If it were me, I’d be pretty pissed.”

Vernon narrowed his eyes at him, but couldn’t find the strength to argue. Too much about what Felix had said hit right where it hurt. Losing someone you cared about, suddenly having nobody to turn to…he understood how bad that was. But losing your entire family and being displaced from your home? He couldn’t even imagine it.

The earlier annoyance had drained from his body like an ebbing tide, leaving nothing but a hollowness and that damned guilt that seemed to follow him everywhere like an annoying ghost. Oh, well, my fault for having a conscience.

Suddenly tired, he sighed, tearing his eyes from the mutant’s and looking resignedly at a spot on the wall. As much as he would like to have a reason to properly hate his new team, he knew he couldn’t really blame them for any of this. “Where do you think she’ll go?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t—” Yangyang started.

“Up top,” Felix answered, cutting him off. His irises were rings of ice, but when Vernon looked at him then, they seemed almost warm. “Take the elevator to the left. Make sure you don’t fall off the side—New York’s a long way down.”

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incarnateirony · 3 years

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So here we are, The Great Supernatural Rewatch, 01.01 Pilot. If unfamiliar with this rewatch, please check my Objectives and Bracketing post [x], and then my Methodology Notes [x]; Also, reminder that I’m not the only person doing this, though each in their own ways. My Objectives and Methodology are my own.

I’m trying to get a little ahead of the official Jan 3 start date, since I know I will... inevitably fall behind, and this episode was ripe for the initial pick-through for the inevitability of a thousand call backs.

That said, with level 1. SYNCHRONIC: As it reads, unto itself, as best divorced from future knowledge of the story, it’s difficult to do much actual “meta” as much as review and commentary since literally it’s all character and story introductions. There’s some to be had, but beyond things like lighting, the Level 1 viewing tier is not going to lend towards much beyond basic archetypes, and a lot of mythology breakdown. This post will be heaving Level 2 weighted as a result. Most tier-1 posting is going to be an early build of key words, phrases and signs to assemble throughout the season watching (and tap back on later for tier 2 by tagging.)

Also a few unannounced side projects; I’m about to start a “Combat Counter” and “Marksmanship Counter”, to see how Sam and Dean handle both in physical battles/scraps over time compared to each other, and who has the better overall aim in the long term.

Some things saved in this post will seem random and arbitrary, but are potential flags I intend to keep, mostly for later level 2, DIACHRONIC study.

Now to get to the meat:

STUDY: REWATCH/REVIEW STAGE

Allow me to lead with: this episode even unto itself is a fine spectacle of just how much the genre shifted over time. I am a huge fan of David Nutter’s directing; many would know him from, say, Game of Thrones. He didn’t stay long--just Pilot and Wendigo--before moving on. But some of his touches stayed with the show for a few years. The entire ambiance is a giant testiment to survival-horror, a grimness to it, even if the CW itself could never truly capitalize on it. The mood and ambiance was successfully played on. The entire episode is rife with cloudy lighting beaming between bars and through windows, bold silhouette shots, and more that gives an air of mystery even after some characters are established. Dynamic shots are plenty.

Your early reading here isn’t going to tell you much you don’t already know, but is for filing, review, and even reminder/refresher purposes. As the season unfolds, there’s going to be more to interconnect, obviously. If you would like to read more observations on actual parallels, scroll to the DIACHRONIC STUDY header. If I’ve taken a screenshot, even in Synchronic, it’s because it’s a flag I do expect to come back up in diachronic study later and need to catalogue for future parallels and address.

So, imagining it’s 2005, we’re watching Supernatural for the first time. We’re in a very different world, Both in the show, and in the real world. A standard, haunting discord rattles the minds of the audience as a tree moves like a hand towards the window of a suburban home.

We see a classic, nuclear family in this standard home, saying their charming goodnights to an infant. But within moments, we’re told in every classic way that everything is wrong. The infant’s mobile turns on its own accord; the clock stops.

It’s 8:12pm when the world goes haywire. The decorative moon in the room flickers, growing dim. The mother wakes to the sound of a distressed infant on the baby monitor. She rises from bed in her gown.

This is a point I’m left to negotiate cursed knowledge: to all visual cues, the mother’s attire appears to be white. The audience perceived it as white. But we know it, and Jess’ gown later, was actually pink; the film stock failed to capture it. Both short term and much louder in the long term, these two colors can deliver two very different meanings. But for us, a viewer consuming a digital medium with no knowledge beyond what they published, I’m left to decide that the text seems to determine her in a white gown.

The wife sees a stark silhouette, asking if the child was hungry, assuming it was her husband that quieted her. She turns away, tapping on a flickering light over an old marriage portrait that one can only assume was a previous family generation. She descends the stairs.

Here she finds her husband is sleeping. Panic takes her, bringing her to the room. Quickly, chaos erupts. As does she, once seen bleeding down onto the hand of the father from above the crib. We see her, sunken eyes, already dying, screaming without a sound. Silent. Unable to make a noise.

The camera details the desperation of the father rushing his infant to his older child. “Take your brother outside as fast as you can, don’t look back. Now Dean, GO.”

I’m unclear what John thinks he’s going to achieve running back in for Mary as fire takes the home. But soon, he finds young Dean, 4, outside, holding an infant, “I've got you Sammy.” John erupts out of the house as the windows begin to blow, sweeping in to carry Dean, who carries Sam.

As the fire department arrives, the first cords of a song we would later come to recognize as Americana haunt through otherwise chilling music that climbs actively to punch out through our first cold open.

The Winchesters are our first cold open.

We find ourselves in modern day with the rick of a rock cord, and a young woman in a white nurse outfit adjusting her earings while framed by an image of John and Mary--the mother and father--in a picture frame. Though she calls for Sam, we see nothing of Dean--not even a picture. The image on the counter tells of a life Sam(my) was too young to even know, but perhaps is in his blonde-haired woman who teases him about halloween while standing in front of a mirror.

Sam is clearly in his young prime, celebrating his LSAT with a 174 score much to his chagrin with friends dressed up in all styles of wardrobe. Behind Sam a neon black cat sign may just jinx his future in warm but dull lighting; ghostly drapes hide behind Jess in a blue, sharper light.

Sam’s friends perceive he must be the Golden Boy of the family. Jess is proud of him. “What would I do without you?” “Crash and burn.”

Night onsets. Dim lighting feels dusty despite the otherwise hopeful environment. Heavy creaking, groaning, footsteps; Sam rises on instinct, spying an open door and catching haunting noises--sounds. An intruder. And one fateful fight. The choreography spares little.

In actual combat, the intruder--quickly identified as Dean--comes out on top. (Combat ticker: Sam vs Dean: Dean 1) Easy there, tiger. As Dean haunts, revealing his roguish personality quickly, he’s then gotten the better of (this is not going to be considered a combat ticker, it’s not actual combat, but aftermath).

Sam challenges why Dean broke in, but Dean knew Sam would have never picked up without him. They’re interrupted from their silhouetting by the light flicking on, and Dean further displays his roguish charm, enjoying her smurfs, not dreaming of her getting dressed; but soon, it’s down to business--Dean says it’s private family matters. Sam, a unit in the doorframe with Jess, says it can be said in front of her. Until the fateful line: “Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days.” The camera zooms on Sam’s set jaw to tell the audience how much weight is in that line as the audio itself drags a raw cord of suspense.

The dizzying stairs are a descent into a world Sam seems to have left behind, with the audience viewing from below. Quickly, we’re introduced to ideas: the Poltergeist in Amherst, the Devil’s Gate in Clifton, “always missing and always fine.” Sam’s bitterness is thick: rather than telling him not to be afraid of the dark, “dad gave me a .45″, though Dean challenges what he should have done. They soon stand in a cage of sharply lit bars, arguing if this was what their mother would have wanted--to be raised like warriors.

Dean challenges if Sam would want a normal apple pie life; Sam slaps back: not normal, safe. “And that’s why you ran away.”--But John told him to stay gone. Regardless, Dean doesn’t want to do it alone. Sam asks what he was hunting, and why Dean wasn’t there; Dean was working a voodoo thing in New Orleans.

Dean reveals Jericho, California--10 men over to years on the same 5 mile stretch of road.

The “Ran it through A Goldwave” is a funny side comment but I’m not gonna get into why beyond LOL “through a goldwave”, that’s-- whatever. But we hear, in EVP, “I can never go home.”

The average viewer, at this point, isn’t going to be deeply instructing the story parallels--and in the scheme of it, Sam’s fear of going home barely scratches the meta surface. We do know John has been missing for three weeks. And find out Sam has a Monday deadline for his entry to lawschool, “whole future on a plate.” Jess worries over disappearing with his family, reminding of the deadline, but he promises to be back in time.

A sharp cut to JERICHO, CALIFORNIA. The driver shares similar concerns to Sam, “if I miss it, dad’s gonna have my ass,” he tells his girlfriend on the phone. A woman in white appears down the road as the car clock fries at 10:17, asking to be taken home. “Take me home?” “She lives at the end of breckenridge road.” “A girl like you shouldn’t really be alone out here.” She hikes her skirt. “I’m with you. Do you think I’m pretty? Will you come home with me?” hell yeah.

They arrive at a dillapidated home. “I can never go home.” No one even lives here. He steps out, turns around, and she’s gone. An eerie handprint appears on the window.

He decides to leave, clearly feeling the offsettling vibes, but isn’t alone. She steams with animosity in the backseat.

He looks into his mirror.

And wipes out.

After a violent death, we cut back to our boys and another exposition: credit card scams (jesus, could sam have yelled it any louder?), breakfast in a gas station bag, you gotta update your casette tape collection--why? because for one, they’re casette tapes. Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica--it’s the greatest hits of mullet rock. “House rules Sammy, Driver picks the music, rider shuts his cakehole.” “Sammy is a chubby 12 year old.” “What, can’t hear you.”

ENTER, JERICHO

Internal impala shots galore will end up being a major vibe of our next few years. A spunky guitar theme plays that we will eventually come to know. Dean pulls out a cigar box full of fake badges ranging from FBI to Bureau of Tobacco from the glove box, quickly showing us how deep this path goes for them already.

The cops review the mystery: no fingerprints, spotless; we find out that the victim was dating the cop’s daughter, who was posting missing flyers downtown. The boys introduce themselves as federal agents, are challenged for being too young, and Dean sasses his way through, “that’s very kind of you.” -- while gathering basic intel, we quickly find Dean’s tongue getting ahead of him, calling their lack of ability to find a connection beyond them all being male victims, calling it crack police work. The brothers’ dual personas exit the crime scene with a cuff upside the head from Sam to Dean, a bickering match, and Dean leaving a Mulder and Scully crack on the cops.

They quickly find Amy, the girlfriend, and lie to claim that were Troy’s relatives and had heard about her, and move to a diner to talk about events.

No major unusual things to warrant events; Sam compliments her necklace. She jokes that Troy got it for her to freak out her parents for “devil stuff”, but Sam quickly educates her on the pentagram meaning the opposite, a symbol of protection.

But there are weird rumors in town--people talk. In-sync, “what do they talk about”; a local legend. She tells them of a girl murdered on centennial where anyone who picks her up disapears forever. The brothers quickly move on to a library with a clunky monitor, fully dating us; not just the lack of good cell phones and wifi, but the equipment and the appearance of the search engine alone. Right, we’re watching this in 2005.

The brothers slapfight again, but Sam shows that even away from the life he never lost his prowess. He asks, “Angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?” and searches for suicide. 1981, 24 years prior. “Our babies were gone and Constance couldn’t bear it.”

So they go to see where Constance took the swan dive.

The brothers begin to fight.

SAM Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—

DEAN turns around.

DEAN Monday. Right. The interview.

SAM Yeah.

DEAN Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?

SAM Maybe. Why not?

DEAN Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?

SAM steps closer.

SAM No, and she's not ever going to know.

DEAN Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.

DEAN turns around and keeps walking. SAM follows.

SAM And who's that?

DEAN You're one of us.

SAM hurries to get in front of DEAN.

SAM No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.

DEAN You have a responsibility to—

SAM To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.

DEAN grabs SAM by the collar and shoves him up against the railing of the bridge. A long pause.

DEAN Don't talk about her like that.

They’re interrupted as Constance appears, diving off the cliff, and immediately taking control of the Impala.

“Dude, who’s driving your car?” Dean holds up his keys.

They flee, over the bridge, and share another movement. One more fake card later, they find themselves in John’s room, room 10, in a motel. Sam remarks that the place is covered in Salt, and Cat’s Eye Shells. The entire room is covered in case work and lore.

I’ll break down the lore of these in a later mythos reblog, though the Asmodeus one really catches my eye for reasons outside of this episode.

Sam finds a photo-- a distinctly different family than the one on his college dresser. There, it’s John and Mary as an ideal image that framed Jessica. Here, it’s the life he walked away from. But while Dean heads out, he’s spotted by police, and their old coded dialect pops out, “Five Oh, take off.” Federal marshalls confront him: They’re looking for his partner (cue Wincest fans trying to make meta that’s about to be shot down one scene later, in the distance), fake US Marshalls, fake credit cards, is there anything about you that’s Real. My boobs.

Just putting a flag in the name Sheriff Pierce, we’ll figure out if that’s ever valid to anything later. But he tells Dean of the trouble he’s in with a room full of missing people and devil worship, for Dean to snap back he was 3 when they went missing. But they knew he had more than one partner. An older man. John’s journal is thrown out (Wincest meta dies a terrible death beyond previous scene)

Again, I’ll translate the FUTHARK in a follow up post, this is already taking a lot of time as it is.

Meanwhile, Sam is investigating the leads they and John both found. Previously spoken intents to burn her has him ask about her being buried at an old plot by Breckenridge at their old place.

SAM And why did you move?

JOSEPH I'm not gonna live in the house where my children died.

SAM stops walking. JOSEPH stops too.

SAM Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?

JOSEPH No way. Constance, she was the love of my life. Prettiest woman I ever known.

SAM So you had a happy marriage?

JOSEPH hesitates.

Putting a flag in this for later.

But Sam decides to call the man out.

SAM A woman in white. Or sometimes weeping woman?

JOSEPH just looks.

SAM It's a ghost story. Well, it's more of a phenomenon, really.

SAM starts back toward JOSEPH.

SAM Um, they're spirits. They've been sighted for hundreds of years, dozens of places, in Hawaii, Mexico, lately in Arizona, Indiana. All these are different women.

SAM stops in front of JOSEPH.

SAM You understand. But all share the same story.

JOSEPH Boy, I don't care much for nonsense.

JOSEPH walks away. SAM follows.

SAM See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them.

JOSEPH stops.

SAM And these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children.

JOSEPH turns around.

SAM Then once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways. And if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him. And that man is never seen again.

JOSEPH You think...you think that has something to do with...Constance? You smartass!

SAM You tell me.

JOSEPH I mean, maybe...maybe I made some mistakes. But no matter what I did, Constance, she never would have killed her own children. Now, you get the hell out of here! And you don't come back!

Sam is flushed out, and makes a fake 911 call to break Dean out, pointing out that the husband had been unfaithful. More dramatic silhouette shots really capture the early spirit of the piece, with Dean using a phone booth in lieu of other options. Hell, Dean was able to find a phone booth, let that take you back. They determine that John left Jericho, and establish his ex-marine habits with the coordinates, 35-111 that Dean had lied through to the cop. But while on the phone, the woman in white appears in front of Sam on the road, non-crashing.

She controls the car again, and forces him to drive to a broken home, repeating, “I can never go home.” Sam recognizes: “You’re scared to go home.” And that’s when the creepy ghost rapey vibes start, mounting him, demanding he hold her, she’s cold. “You can’t kill me, I’m not unfaithful.” He argues. You will be. Just hold me.

As she goes to rip out his heart, she flickers with the beat of his.

Dean breaks into the scene, unloading 12 shots into the ghost with iron bullets to disrupt her manifestation, giving Sam time to sit up and say, “I’m taking you home.”, where he drives through the house. Dean helps Sam out of the car, only to be telekinetically pinned by a dresser to be disabled.

The lights flicker again. Children manifest, water runs down the stairs, looking eerily like the light could be the Winchester’s old home

Here, she falls when reunited with her children. Sam clarifies--she could never go home, she was too afraid to face her kids (while not viable for the synchronic study, for my own sanity I’m going to note this season, Home will be all but mandatory to touch back here.) Dean says Sam found her weak spot.

They drive down the road with a blown headlight, Sam using an old map and ruler to locate the coordinates. But it’s realized Sam isn’t going with Dean to blackwater ridge, colorado 600 miles away. His interview was in ten hours. Dean declares, “I’ll take you home.”

There’s banter over meeting up later, and being a good team, but Sam goes inside and calls for Jess. “You home?” He finds a plate full of cookies with a note “missed you, love you” and relaxes in bed with the distant sound of a running shower.

And of course.

And so it began.

SYNCHRONIC STUDY: IN-EPISODE PARALLELS

In a first episode, there’s only so much to address. While we may question how much the Woman in White being in White may have been intentional with Jess and Mary, who wore pink (a diachronic full text body note later), in the initial review, it’s worth mentioning for the reasons in part 1 I’ve decided to air towards white in the final text product. Resultingly, the tie between Constance->Mary->Jess seems tangible. But it isn’t really so simple.

“Home.” Home is a huge keyword.

"I can never go home." within the episode unto itself, Sam is struggling to well, get back home. And frankly, returning home is the key of it. (hears distant uppity Wincest stans) The difference here is, this isn't a direct parallel, of course, as much as a general ambient mood that will haunt is forward through the show, even if current viewers just watching episode 1 don't recognize it yet. Sam going home kills Jess, essentially; or at least witnesses her death. At the same time, Sam fears returning to the hunter life, or more doesn't think he can because John told him not to come back. But now that Jess is dead, well, Sam can never go home to the life he was building. He has no choice but TO go back to the other home--the hunter life. Even if he’s certain it’s not what Mary would have wanted for them.

DIACHRONIC STUDY: IN-SEASON PARALLELS, LOOKING FORWARD

There’s no way I’ll have them all in mind, these are just what are flagging me along the way.

1.09 Home As the “Home” rewatch is not that far away, I’m going to save this as a placeholder with general notes about “Mary apologizing to Sam,” even if frankly, she should have to Dean too. But even if, at the time, the exact details of the deal may or may not have been established or hashed out by the authors--we’re not picking at arguing if the authors intended it or not here. Here, Mary apologizes for her deal. Here, Mary apologizes--for drowning her children. For magnetizing this poltergeist to this place that she demands let her sons go, where she forces the spook to let go of Sam. She couldn’t really go home in the truest sense until that passed. (I’ll have deeper chain-link connections on this looking-forward once actually at the episode.

DIACHRONIC STUDY: IN-ERA PARALLELS, LOOKING FORWARD

They’re here, but not pinging me at 1 AM beyond vagueblogging about Lucifer showing up as Jess to haunt Sam and the inevitable time travel episodes about Mary, so placeholder for later updates.

DIACHRONIC STUDY: BEYOND-ERA PARALLELS, LOOKING FORWARD

Obviously compare to above-dropped screenshots.

11.04: Mistakes were made.

Listen, Dean’s grimace seat has been in discussion lately, don’t blame me for thinking of Joseph’s mistakes right after the season as Dean-mirror Pastor Joseph. Funny how Sam’s get shown and Dean’s don’t.

11.23/12.01: Mary’s return in the (white or pink, I’m rolling with white as-above) gown, and all extending details.

12.22: Mary's dreamspace.

12.23: Dean, Castiel's death, Sam removing Dean

15.01: Woman In White, We've got work to do

I feel like the Woman in White is the most interesting of these that hasn’t been as talked to death as, say, the 12.23 elements with the Destiel parallel. After all, the Woman in White largely focused on Sam. It was his fear of home. It was him being faithful to Jess (and being unfaithful can be more than sex, really; after all, he made a promise to come back.) But in season 15, it’s Dean that the ghost of the jilted lover approaches, shortly after Dean nearly killed Jack in his pain. Was Dean the weeping woman? Or was Castiel? Who held the animosity in the back seat?

Or is this a shared path? As Dean puts the Equalizer away under the Cigar Box, he has his own haunting issues in the mirror.

Those will be addressed more deeply when we get to that episode in like half a year. But for now, I’m just putting a pin in it. With a side scribble of “Cas got his Secrets/Mary, Sam got his serial killer and clowns and Dean got... the woman in white with Belphegor.”

15.02: Road Closed

15.03: If one insists Mary and Jess’ dress are pink, Rowena’s dress upon wedding and unbirthing to death (and queendom)

15.04: I still think about Jess (shortly before Eileen’s return.)

15.13: If one insists Mary and Jess’ dress are pink, atop the eventually-addressed meaning of lighting (death and transformation) vs the Empress symbolism (fertility, rebirth), Castiel in pink light.

15.15: If one insists Mary and Jess’ dress are pink. Amara’s trenchcoat.

15.20: Beyond the obvious quotes, and the (IMO failed) attempt at nostalgia, there’s honestly very little callback to the original episode.

That’s it on first glance, I’m sure more will rattle out as we go forward. Well, mostly. Keys to the Legacy from Mint Condition is flagging me alongside control mechanisms like Castiel losing control of his vessel. But those are thoughts to put pins in for now and develop later.

COMBAT COUNTER:

DEAN VICTORIES: 1 (sam vs Dean)

MARKSMANSHIP COUNTER:

DEAN SHOTS: 12 shots, 12 hits.

(hits for any individual will be considered accurate even if targets teleport/flicker out as long as it should have hit the body)

The mythology pasted all around John’s Room is worth a second trip, but off the top of my head I see the Bell Witch and Asmodeus from the Lesser Key of Solomon (near the motel door).

I’ll reblog later to add commentary on that.

47 notes · View notes

writemekpop · 4 years

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City Lights | Wong Yukhei (Lucas)

Pairing: Wong Yukhei (Lucas) x Reader

Summary: Being a single mother isn’t doing wonders for your dating life. That is, until you meet your gorgeous neighbour Lucas. You try to stay away, but it's getting harder to resist his charm. Will you be able to let a new man into your life?

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Suggestive

Word Count: 2.9k

The lights of Hong Kong glittered in the distance as you watched through the glass wall of your new apartment. It felt strange moving into a new city on your own, free from your ex-husband Yuta. Well, you weren’t really on your own; you had your two-year-old daughter, Nara.

You had to admit that getting pregnant at twenty-four and ending up a single mother wasn’t in your life plan, but two years down the line, things were working out alright.

“Mummy look!” Nara said, peering down at the twinkling cars below. “They’re funny, aren’t they?” you cooed in response.

You had nearly finished unpacking; you just had to bring one more box into your apartment. You walked out into the corridor, your red heels clicking on the marble floor. You hauled the box inside, leaving the front door ajar.

You spent the next few minutes sorting through the contents of the box. “Honey look, here’s the alphabet book you were looking for,” you called out. Hearing no response, you looked up from the box. Your daughter was nowhere to be seen. “Nara?” you called louder this time. Still no response.

You dashed out into the corridor, calling her name a few more times. There was only one other apartment on this floor, so she couldn’t have gone far. You hadn’t had the chance to meet the neighbours yet, and you prayed that they weren’t serial killers.

Then, you heard the unmistakable giggling of your daughter. You rushed around the corner to see Nara babbling away happily with a young man. He was crouched in front of her, with one knee on the ground smiling at the completely unfazed toddler.

“Nara!” you called out. Two smiling faces turned in your direction. “Mummy!” Nara squealed, running to you with arms outstretched. You picked her up her lovingly, finally able to relax.

You turned to the handsome stranger, your eyes widening as you scanned him from head to toe. Now that he was standing, he towered over you – he was easily over six foot tall. His skin was a gorgeous dark caramel, and you wondered if it would taste as good as it looked.

You noticed the man’s large brown eyes raking over your body, a smirk forming on his full lips. You didn’t really mind - you were used to men staring at you. But you’d never seen a man as handsome as the one who stood before you now.

You realise that neither of you had broken the silence, so you decided to step in. “Thanks for finding my daughter,” you said, smiling up at him.

“No problem,” he replied, his voice deep and velvety, “She’s an angel, wouldn’t want her getting lost.” Nara buried her face into your neck, her little hands toying with your necklace. You smiled back at the gorgeous man, admiring the dimples that formed on his face.

“I’m Lucas by the way. Welcome to the building,” he said.

“Thank you, I’m Y/n,” you said, “And this little one is Nara.”

“She’s beautiful…” he said, “just like her mother”. Lucas smirked, his dark eyes twinkling in the corridor lights. Your eyes went wide at his blatant flirting, a deep red blush tingeing your cheeks.

“Thanks. You’re… you’re not so bad yourself,” you replied, cringing slightly at your words. You were a bit rusty in the dating department; since Nara came along, you’d not dated much.

Lucas chucked, bringing his large hand up to cover his mouth. His eyes crinkled beautifully as he replied, “I know, right?”.

You and Lucas chatted for a few minutes, and you found yourself quickly growing comfortable in his presence. Then, out of the blue, he said “You should take my number”.

“Oh really, and why is that?” you said. Now it was your turn to smirk.

“It’s important to be friendly with your neighbours,” he replied.

“Oh, so you’re just being friendly?” you said, enjoying teasing the handsome man who stood before you.

“Of course!” he winked at you and flashed a dazzling smile. “I’d love to take you on a date sometime,” he continued.

“Bold of you to assume I’m single,” you said. Although your exterior was cool, you were melting on the inside.

“I mean, a gorgeous girl like you, I’m sure you’ve got loads of guys after you,” Lucas said. “But umm, the little one mentioned that the two of you lived alone. I just assumed!” he said, looking bashful and rubbing his large hand against the back of his neck.

“I am single…” you started “But I just moved here, and I need a bit of time to settle in.” You weren’t sure if you could let someone new in; now that you had Nara in your life, your priorities were different. Lucas’s face fell, and you found yourself regretting what you’d said.

“Wait…” you said, struck with a strong desire to see that gorgeous smile again. “If you really do want to go on a date, how about you ask me again in… in fifty days’ time?” you said, a blush creeping up your cheeks. Maybe by then, you’d have space in your life for Lucas.

Lucas smiled quizzically. He stepped closer to you and softly placed a hand on your arm, “Fifty days, you say?” he whispered, leaning in. “I’ll definitely be worth the wait”.

Lucas waved goodbye and left. You hadn’t expected a run-in with a handsome stranger on your first day in Hong Kong, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t intrigued.

Over the next few weeks you bumped into Lucas everywhere: in the elevator, in the hallway, a couple times in the bakery across the street. Each time, Lucas would crack a flirty joke and flash you a smile that sent your head spinning.

You’d learnt quite a bit about Lucas. For example, you found out that he was twenty-three (three years younger than you, but as Lucas always said, when it comes to love, age doesn’t matter). You were realising that Lucas was not just a pretty face. But you had to admit, his face was very, very pretty.

-----50 days later-----

It was a breezy Saturday afternoon, and you were waiting for the elevator to go up to your apartment. You had your sleeping toddler in one arm, and bags of groceries in the other.

Unsurprisingly, Lucas was on your mind. Just as you were picturing his lips, you felt a hand touch your shoulder. You spun around to see the man himself.

Lucas was wearing black sweatpants and an Adidas T shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his sculpted biceps. He had headphones around his neck, and the sheen of sweat that lightly coated his skin made him glisten.

“Hey gorgeous!” Lucas boomed, gesturing to carry your bags for you, which you gratefully accepted. “Do you know what day it is today?” he asked.

“Saturday?” you replied coyly. You knew exactly what day it was.

“Well yes,” Lucas replied, laughing slightly. “But more importantly…” he leaned in so he could whisper into your ear, “It’s been fifty days”.

Your heart fluttered at his closeness - you could actually feel the heat radiating off his body. “So, what do you say? Can we go on a date?” he asked, smirking slightly, like he knew the effect he had on you.

You smiled and beckoned him into the elevator. Lucas grinned cockily and followed you in. “I’d like that,” you said, after a pause. Lucas clasped his chest and let out a comically loud sigh. “Yes!” he exclaimed, “Name a place and time, princess, and I’ll be there”.

As the elevator ascended, the two of you agreed to cook dinner in your apartment next Saturday. You were secretly relieved you wouldn’t need to find a babysitter for Nara – she would be fast asleep in her room.

Over the next week, warm brown eyes invaded your dreams every night. You tried on countless date outfits, and Nara enjoyed the mini fashion show you put on for her. In the end, you settled for deep purple bodycon dress, black lace thigh-high socks and red lipstick that complimented the richness of your skin tone.

The evening of your date had finally arrived, and Nara was asleep in her bedroom, right next door to yours. She’d had some trouble sleeping through the night, but you prayed that this time she would.

As the clock struck eight, you heard a knock on the front door. You walked to the door and pulled it open, taking a second to look at the man standing before you.

Lucas was leaning on your door frame, checking you out with a satisfied smirk. The way he was dressed made it clear he knew what made him look good. He was wearing a blue velvet jacket with trousers to match. His shirt clung to his chest and highlighted the hard muscles that lay beneath, its stark white colour contrasting his golden skin. A black bow tie lay open carelessly around his neck and his dark hair was styled up. He looked absolutely gorgeous.

You noticed that Lucas was holding a punnet of strawberries and a can of whipped cream. You raised your brows quizzically as you let him inside. “Chocolates and flowers are too cliché, right?” he said. You chuckled as he set his gift down on the table and pulled you in for a hug. You sighed contently as you felt his strong arms wrap around you, revelling in his cinnamon musk and feeling very secure.

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

“Argh!” Lucas bellowed as he staggered around the kitchen, eyes watering. You stood watching him, one hand clutching your stomach in laughter. You had made sushi for dinner, and Lucas had boasted about how much wasabi he could eat. Let’s just say he was now paying the price.

You looked around frantically until you found something that could help. “Here, open your mouth!” you said, still laughing. You sprayed some whipped cream in his mouth. After a few more sprays, the fire in Lucas’ mouth had finally calmed down, and he was giggling too, his lips and chin now completely covered in cream.

“You saved me!” Lucas yelled. “Come here…” he said mischievously, placing one hand on your waist and the other on your chin, tilting your head up. Lucas puckered his cream covered lips and leaned towards to you.

You squealed and tried to wriggle away, but Lucas’ grip on you was firm. Plus, he was hard to resist, so you let his lips touch yours in a sugary kiss. You licked the cream that was now on your lips and smiled as he stepped back, his cheeks tinged red.

After the meal, the two of you moved to the couch. An empty bottle of wine sat on the table in front of you, the alcohol making your blood hot with desire. You were lying down with your head on the arm of the sofa and your legs draped over Lucas’s lap.

Lucas’s large hands rested lightly on your knees, and as you talked, you felt his fingers ghost the skin of your thigh. Each time he touched you, a warm buzz ran through your body.

After a while, you were done with talking – you just wanted his lips on you. And this time not just for a little kiss.

“Lucas…” you purred. You looked up to him and saw his eyes darken with understanding. As you were about to move onto his lap, Lucas held you in place with a strong hand on your shoulder. “Let me,” he whispered.

Lucas moved so that his legs were straddling your waist on the sofa. You reached your hand up to caress the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. The feeling of Lucas’ soft lips on yours was dizzying. You drew him closer, deepening the kiss and revelling in the feeling of Lucas over you.

Soon, your kisses got rougher, and you could feel Lucas responding to the change in pace. You ran your fingers though his dark hair and tugged, eliciting a low moan from the boy.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom,” you said, softly pushing Lucas off you. He nodded eagerly. His cheeks were flushed, and his shirt ruffled. You held his hand and walked quietly past Nara’s room.

Softly shutting your bedroom door, you kissed Lucas again, your hands tangling in his hair. The weight of his body on yours had you stepping back until he pushed you onto the bed. You lay back, propping yourself up on your elbows as you admired the view in front of you.

Lucas stood at the foot of the bed, smirking as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He tossed his shirt to the floor, pulling off his bowtie in the process too. Your eyes traced down his abs, imagining what it would feel like to rake your nails down them.

Lucas climbed onto the bed, staring hungrily at you. You pulled him closer, intent on kissing him again, but he shook his head and stopped you before you could. “Take off your dress,” he said. You pouted slightly but obeyed, slowly easing the purple garment off your body.

As you began to pull down your socks, Lucas placed a hand on your thigh. “Leave them on,” he said with a sly grin. Lucas stroked the bare skin of your tummy, the rough pads of his fingers leaving a fiery trail from your navel, sneaking dangerously lower.

Just as his hand reached the lace of your underwear, you heard a wail from the next room. Your hand quickly clasped his and halted his actions. Urging Lucas to be quiet, you strained to listen more closely. “That sounds like Nara,” you said, the concern evident in your voice.

Lucas pushed your hand off his and continued to tug down your underwear. “Wait!” you said, grabbing his hand again, “She must be having a nightmare.”

“She’ll be fine, just forget about her…” Lucas said, paying no attention to the worry spreading across your face.

“Forget about her? Are you being serious?” you snapped, staring at him incredulously. Lucas stared back at you blankly, his large eyes wide.

You shoved Lucas off you and left the bed, the mood shattered. "You’re just gonna leave me like this?" he asked, which only made you more annoyed.

You pulled a dressing gown over your exposed body. You expected Lucas to be different, but you should have known better.

“Maybe you should just get out of here,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

Without waiting for a response, you left the bedroom and walked into your daughter’s room. Nara was sat on the bed, tears rolling down her chubby cheeks. “It’s ok baby, it’s just a dream,” you said, wrapping your arms around her.

It took longer than expected to calm Nara down. You heard a door thud and assumed that Lucas had walked out. As Nara was drifting off, you began to regret what you had said. You had certain priorities as a mother, but how was Lucas meant to understand that? Maybe you had overreacted.

Around an hour had passed before Nara finally fell asleep, and you were sure Lucas had left by now. Not ready to face your empty bed, you went to the living room and stared out of the window down at the twinkling lights of your new city.

Lucas had been nothing but kind to you both these past fifty days, and the idea of not seeing that sweet smile again was more than you could bear.

Staring out into the night, you decided that Lucas deserved a second chance. You would make amends, starting with going over to his place first thing in the morning and talking everything over.

You rushed to your bedroom with a newfound resolve, eager to fall asleep, if it would make tomorrow come quicker. You opened your bedroom door and flicked the lights on. You gasped when you saw what was in front of you. Lucas was fast asleep on your bed. He had stayed!

Lucas’s long tan limbs were stretched out on the duvet, and faint snores escaped his lips. Your heart swelled at the sight. You quickly dimmed the lights, not wanting to startle him.

Lucas was starting to stir. “Babe?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes, “How is Nara? Is she alright?” he sat up, concern creasing his brow.

“She’s alright,” you said softly, walking closer towards the bed.

“I’m so sorry for earlier, I don’t know what came over me, of course I care about Nara! I- I should probably go,” Lucas blurted out.

“It’s ok baby,” you said, moving to sit on Lucas’s lap, “I don’t want you to go”.

You placed a kiss on Lucas’s neck, closing your eyes as you felt his hands hold your hips. “It’s okay, I know you care,” you mumbled into his neck.

Lucas was fully awake now, and he placed soft kisses on your fingers. At the feeling of his strong thighs under you, a wave of lust washed over you.

You carefully placed one of your hands on his thigh and stroked his skin, eyes fixed on his face to read his mood. Lucas flexed his thigh under your touch, understanding your intentions.

“How about we finish what we started?” you whispered.

“Good idea,” Lucas said, as he pulled off your robe and pushed you down onto the bed.

259 notes · View notes

avarogers021 · 3 years

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Updated List 2021 For Netflix Cancelled & Renewed Shows

Platforms like Netflix and Amazon Prime are watched by a number of people all over the world. Both of these platforms telecast movies, shows, and series which are related to different genres. From thriller to action, anime, mystery, documentaries, history, and more, everything can be seen on these platforms.

Before getting started let us first talk about the shows/series you like to watch? Friends, Riverdale, Game Of Thrones? Well, all of them has a huge fan following. I personally can never get enough of watching Riverdale and Friends. Whether I am back home after work or I wanted to spend some time, Netflix has always been a savior. However, lately I got a news and it just felt like the end of the world.

Were you aware of the fact that some of the Netflix shows have been going off air and cancelled real soon? Yes, you are reading this right. The reasons behind the cancellation of various reasons bring together a plethora of reasons. Of course some shows like Dear White People and Dead To Me have a huge fan following and will be missed for sure. However, since we know that sooner or later good things do make their way, all these shows also came to an end soon.

Have you been wondering which shows got canceled? This is the piece which is apt for you. You will be able to find out all of them here itself. Hence, let’s get started without any further ado.

Netflix shows that have been renewed and cancelled in the year 2021Below mentioned is a list of the top twenty shows that have been canceled this year. Check them out to find the reasons behind the big decision. In addition to this, you will also find out if they are coming back anytime soon.

Ozark: This one has been renewed for season four. The famous television series is coming to an end in 2021. You could find this series on Netflix. Even after gaining so much of popularity, the show is gong off air this year. The show did receive a number of nominations of awards and has also won numerou titles. Some of them are the Guild award, and Emmy award. To people who have watched this series, the fourth season has divided into two different categories. Each category consists of seven episodes. However, at present the director wanted to take a break and made sure that the series is remembered by the fans.

Cast of Ozark

Jason Bateman

Alik Bateman

Andrew Bernstein

Ellen Kuras

Daniel Sackheim

Amanda Marsalis

Benjamin Semanoff

Phil Abraham

Cherien Dabis

Dead To Me: This one has been renewed for season three. The series is known to end in the year 2021. However, the series finale is a big hit and funny. But, this one did not gain too much attention. Time changes, and so does the audience. This is why it is now time to bid adieu to this series, Jenny and Judy. Even though the series was loved by some of them till date, it is finally coming to an end yet not off air.

Cast of Dead To Me

Kat Coiro

Geeta V. Patel

Minkie Spiro

Abe Sylvia

Amy York Rubin

Tamra Davis

Jennifer Getzinger

Liza Johnson

Silver Tree

Elizabeth Allen

Lucifer: The series is renewed for season six. Another fantastic which is coming to an end is Lucifer. The series premiered on 25 January 2016. With time the first season received mixed reviews from critics. A number of them praised certain characters and Elli’s performance was no exception. With time more and more seasons were released. However, they did not gain much popularity. Platforms like Netflix also cancelled the pick up of the third season.

Cast Of Lucifer

Tom Ellis as Lucifer Morningstar

Lauren German

Kevin Alejandro

D B. Woodside as Amenadiel

Lesley as Ann Branch

Scarlett Estevez as Beatrice

Rachael Harris

Kevin Rankin

Tricia Helfer as Mum

Tom Welling as Lieutenant Marcus Pierce

Inbar Lavi as Eve

You: This one got renewed for season three. There are only very few Netflix series that have grabbed the attention of people. However unfortunately, this famous thriller series has come to an end now. However, a statement was made by the director where he said that the series will be ending with a season three. The series is based on a novel which was written by Caroline Kepnes. The main role was played by Penn Badgley who was a bookseller. During the second season, the seller was a movie from New York to LA. Even though this is an irresistible show, the fans may not get to watch it anymore.

Cast of You

Penn Badgley

Victoria Pedretti

Ambyr Childers

Elizabeth Lail

Luca Padovan

Jenna Ortega

Zach Cherry

James Scully

Carmeta Zumbado

Nicole Kang

Shalita Grant

Scott Speedman

Travis Van Winkle

Atypical: This show has been renewed for season four. With the season finale, this show is going off air in 2021. However, it will still remain in the hearts of so many of them. No reasons have been found as to why the show is going off air. However, some of them are saying that the reason is because the show is very underrated.

Cast of Atypical

Keir Gilchrist

Brigette Lundy-Paine

Jennifer Jason Leigh

Michael Rapaport

Nik Dodani

Amy Okuda

Jenna Boyd

Graham Rogers

Fivel Stewart

Nina Ameri

Raúl Castillo

Ariela Barer

Graham Phillips

Sara Gilbert

Rachel Redleaf

Allie Rae Treharne

Eric McCormack

Casey Wilson

Angel Laketa Moore

Christina Offley

Kimia Behpoornia

Karl T. Wright

Major Curda

Marietta Melrose

On My Block: There is no official announcement related to the renewal of On My Block. However, it is going to end in 2021 mainly because of the pandemic. The show gained popularity but is still ending. Centered in Los Angeles, this one was based on high school teens who face different challenges.

Cast of On My Block

Diego Tinoco

Sierra Capri

Jason Genao

Brett Gray

Jessica Marie Garcia

Julio Macias

Ronni Hawk

Peggy Blow

Jahking Guillory

Paula Garcés

Danny Ramirez

Reggie Austin

Eric Neil Gutierrez

Eme Ikwuakor

Emilio Rivera

Lisa Marcos

Angela Elayne Gibbs

Ada Luz Pla

Troy Leigh-Anne Johnson

Shoshana Bush

Rob Murat

Mallory James Mahoney

Raushanah Simmons

Gilberto Ortiz

Dear White People: This series is renewed for season four. This one is coming to an end in 2021. The final episodes will show you the nest conversational end.

Cast of Dear White People

Logan Browning

Antoinette Robertson

Brandon P. Bell

Ashley Blaine Featherson

Marque Richardson

DeRon Horton

John Patrick Amedori

Giancarlo Esposito

Tyler James Williams

Caitlin Carver

Jeremy Tardy

Obba Babatundé

Brandon Black

Sheridan Pierce

Nia Long

Ally Maki

Quei Tann

Brant Daugherty

Wendy Raquel Robinson

John Rubinstein

Jeff Larson

Alex Alcheh

Francia Raisa

Rome Flynn

Luke O’Sullivan

Taylor Foster

John Paul Jones II

Tessa Thompson

Ratched: This series is renewed for season two but is going off air very soon. The series is about a nurse Ratched and is based on a real story. As of now it is twisted and ended with a superb episode.

Cast of Ratched

Sarah Paulson

Cynthia Nixon

Finn Wittrock

Sharon Stone

Judy Davis

Jon Jon Briones

Charlie Carver

Amanda Plummer

Corey Stoll

Alice Englert

Sophie Okonedo

Vincent D’Onofrio

Hunter Parrish

Brandon Flynn

Harriet Sansom Harris

Rosanna Arquette

Jermaine Williams

Michael Benjamin Washington

Don Cheadle

Linda Bisesti

Annie Starke

Teo Briones

Emily Mest

Liz Femi

Jeff B. Davis

Robert Curtis Brown

Kirk Bovill

Grasie Mercedes

Siaka Massaquoi

Ben Crowley

Elinor Gunn

Clayton Farris

Aaron Jay Rome

Patrick Duke Conboy

Zabeth Russell

Albert Malafronte

Jake McDermott

Heather McPhaul

Lita Lopez

Lucas Barker

Greg Ballora

Alfred Rubin Thompson

Germain Arroyo

Kristin Charney

Fred Maske

Casey James Knight

Glow: This one is straightaway cancelled. A very famous wrestling drama, this had to be cancelled because of the pandemic.

Cast of Glow

Alison Brie

Betty Gilpin

Marc Maron

Kate Nash

Jackie Tohn

Sydelle Noel

Sunita Mani

Britney Young

Gayle Rankin

Awesome Kong

Britt Baron

Ellen Wong

Chris Lowell

Kimmy Gatewood

Rebekka Johnson

Marianna Palka

Shakira Barrera

Rich Sommer

Bashir Salahuddin

Geena Davis

Victor Quinaz

Ursula Hayden

Alex Rich

Andrew Friedman

Elizabeth Perkins

Annabella Sciorra

Brooke Hogan

Breeda Wool

Kevin Cahoon

Horatio Sanz

Wyatt Nash

Joey Ryan

Toby Huss

Paul Fitzgerald (actor)

Eli Goree

Marc Evan Jackson

Phoebe Strole

Amy Farrington

Ravil Isyanov

Messiah: The series was cancelled because it had to go through ups and downs. However, for the year 2021, this high class show has been canceled. The reason behind this is the dropping popularity.

Cast of Messiah

Mehdi Dehbi

Michelle Monaghan

Stefania LaVie Owen

Rona-Lee Shimon

Sayyid El Alami

Melinda Page Hamilton

Wil Traval

John Ortiz

Fares Landoulsi

Jane Adams

Beau Bridges

Philip Baker Hall

Dermot Mulroney

Teenage Bounty Hunters: This one got cancelled too. Even though this was considered as one of the best teen comedy series, it came to an end. The series received amazing reviews from the critics and the jury.Sadly, the first season of this show fails to draw the attention of the audience. This is one major reason why the series ended.

Cast of Teenage Bounty Hunters

Maddie Phillips

Anjelica Bette Fellini

Devon Hales

Kadeem Hardison

Virginia Williams

Spencer House

Mackenzie Astin

Myles Evans

Charity Cervantes

Method Man

Eric Graise

Given Sharp

Shirley Rumierk

Randy Havens

Jacob Rhodes

The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance: The series got cancelled even after umpteen gigs and comedy episodes.

Cast of The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance

Anya Taylor-Joy

Taron Egerton

Nathalie Emmanuel

Mark Hamill

Simon Pegg

Jason Isaacs

Helena Bonham Carter

Andy Samberg

Natalie Dormer

Keegan-Michael Key

Caitriona Balfe

Alicia Vikander

Gugu Mbatha-Raw

Mark Strong

Harvey Fierstein

Theo James

Toby Jones

Awkwafina

Lena Headey

Ólafur Darri Ólafsson

Shazad Latif

Donna Kimball

Harris Dickinson

Benedict Wong

Sigourney Weaver

Hannah John-Kamen

Neil Sterenberg

Louise Gold

Beccy Henderson

Kevin Clash

Dave Chapman

Warrick Brownlow-Pike

Helena Smee

Bill Hader

Theo Ogundipe

Kemi-Bo Jacobs

Dave Goelz

Eddie Izzard

Patriot Act with Hasan Minhaj; This American show has grabbed the attention of so many of them during the lockdown. However, the show is now cancelled and no reasons behind the same have been found out yet.

Cast of Patriot Act With Hasan Minhaj

Hasan Minhaj

Joyelle Johnson

Arnab Goswami

Andrew Yang

Cory Booker

Maeve Higgins

Adi Ash

Michelle C Bonilla

Rahm Braslaw

Julian Zane Chawdhary

Sean Hartman

Alexis Landry

James Adam Tucker

Rayan Zaim-Sassi

Emily Grace Buck

Vava

Vinod Chaproo

Joan Dickson

Michael Eric Dyson

Jann Ellis

Sonia

Lori Hammel

Smith Harrison

John Hodgman

Siraj Huda

Jacob Dylan

Aurea Jolly

Kevin

The Summary

These are some of the famous Netflix series and shows that got cancelled in the year 2021. As mentioned above, the reasons behind the cancellation differ from series to series. However, you need not lose hope. Netflix still have amazing series coming up. Whatever genre you prefer, keep that in mind and start searching for them. This way you will surely end up finding the ones that will be suitable for you. If not Netflix, then you can check out IMDB. This is a platform where you can search for various shows and movies. While doing do, what you can do is check out the ratings. This way you will find out whether or not the show should be watched or not. IMDB shows new series ans shows that are released every week or month. Search for the one you want to watch and get started without any further ado.

We hope this piece has helped in understanding which and why the shows got cancelled. However, you need not worry about anything. There are a plethora of shows you will come across on this platform, and something or the other will surely be worth watching. Thus, do not wait further and make use of the time this lockdown. Do not let the cancellation and lockdown spoil your mood. Your mood will be cherished and who knows you find out facts you never thought could happen? Also, exploring various genres never goes waste. So, why not make use of this wonderful opportunity?

Syndicate Content:

https://www.exposework.com/netflix-cancelled-renewed-shows/

#neflix #netflix series #netflix series 2021

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blushingbaka · 4 years

Text

love like summer rain;

✰ part four ✰ read part three here ✰ masterlist ✰

|| summary - bokuto was never your first pick as a co-counselor, but eight weeks is plenty of time to change your mind

pairing: bokuto x fem!reader genre: fluffy camp counselor au, slow burn, mutual pining length: 1.3k

✰ a/n: enjoy <3

⋆week four⋆

“Alright, you can collect your arrows” the campers wasted no time following your instructions, eager to get in as many rounds as they could for their first time doing archery. They had already completed several, so you didn’t have to go around as much giving them pointers, allowing you to finally acknowledge the dark storm cloud that was Bokuto. “C’mon, get up. You should shoot a round” Bokuto’s eyes widened slightly looking at your outstretched hand, but he vigorously shook his head, a firm pout on his face. He looked so withdrawn with his shoulders slumped and his knees pulled tightly against his chest. It was a stark contrast to his usual exuberant and gregarious persona, so you couldn’t help but feel a tug of worry. Was this the dejected state of Bokuto Akaashi warned you about? He only started acting like this when you arrived at the archery range. “It’ll be fun” you added with a sing-song voice, playfully tapping your foot against his. He nuzzled his face further down, shaking his head, but you swore you saw his frown falter for a split second. You weren’t giving up that easily. You didn’t know what his problem was, but you definitely saw the longing look in his eyes as he watched the campers shoot their arrows earlier, his lip slightly quivering when one of them got a bullseye. You knew there had to be some part of him that wanted to participate, so you crouched down to his level forcing him to make eye contact with you again. “I’m sure everyone wants to see you hit a bullseye” you persisted, your hand gently gripping his forearm, but your words only caused him to scoff, his eyes becoming downcast. “I can barely even hit the board at all” he mumbled grumpily. “I couldn’t do it during our orientation week, so there’s no point in trying again now” You weren’t even with Bokuto for that portion of orientation, but it was easy enough to see the experience had shaken his confidence. You let out an exaggerated sigh, using your other hand to ruffle his hair. You had always thought Bokuto used gel in his hair, so you expected the strands to be firm, but they tickled your fingertips, feeling surprisingly soft, and that elicited a small smile from you. “What do you mean there’s no point in trying? This time is different because you have me as a teacher” it was strange how closely the bright, confidence of your tone resembled Bokuto’s. Maybe he was rubbing off on you, you thought humorously. Bokuto’s childlike gaze shifted from you to the targets and back to you again. You could tell he was definitely tempted, so you just needed one more push. “If you get a bullseye, I’ll give you my dessert tonight” you shamelessly bribed him, your words causing his eyebrows to shoot up. As he pursed his lips in thought, the campers impatiently called out to you, waiting for your permission to start another round. “One second” you called over your shoulder, standing up. “I want a hug” you heard Bokuto’s low, firm voice. His request sent a jolt of surprise through you, and you were convinced you heard him wrong. “If I get a bullseye, you have to give me your dessert and a hug” he repeated again firmly when you only stared at him with a blank expression. “Deal?” He shot his hand out, a bit too excitedly. Your stomach twisted with his words, and your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, but somehow you choked out a ‘deal,’ wrapping your hand around his. Bokuto definitely wasn’t exaggerating when he said he could barely manage to hit the target at all. You attempted to mask your shock as his arrows flew forcefully over the board, and into the woods. You honestly thought he was a natural at everything, so seeing him like this amused you more than it should have. After missing the target for the fourth time, Bokuto groaned loudly in frustration, tugging roughly at his strands with his free hand. A few of the campers giggled, also finding his lack of natural skill entertaining. “Here,” you placed a comforting hand on his bicep, chuckling lightly. “I know two things we can fix.” You gave him an arrow, indicating for him to try again. Before he could actually let it go, however, you placed a hand over his, moving to stand behind him. You pressed your body up against his back, causing him to draw in a shallow breath. “Okay. First, your strength is good, but you’re only using your arm. You should use your shoulder and back muscles to draw the string back,” You gently nudged his elbow with your own. “And if you just tilt your elbow up a little bit more, it’ll force you to use your shoulder muscles” you explained, and Bokuto hummed in understanding. “Okay, secondly, you’re not giving yourself enough time to steady your aim. This isn’t rapid-fire” you chuckled expecting some retort, but he seemed intensely focused on your words. “I think it helps if you relax and take the time to inhale, focusing your aim, and then exhale just as you let go.” He nodded at your words. “I’m ready” he spoke confidently, drawing the string back. You pulled your hand away from his, not wanting to mess with his aim, but you didn’t step back, placing your other hand on his shoulder blade. After reminding him to inhale, you felt his shoulders softly rise, and with bated breath, you waited for him to exhale. From this angle, you couldn’t see the trajectory of the arrow, but you heard the snap of the string, followed closely by the thump of the arrow hitting the board. Stepping back so you could see the result, your mouth fell open in shock seeing the arrow sticking right out of the center circle: a bullseye. You blinked several times, not being able to believe what you saw. Even with your guidance, Bokuto shouldn't have been able to improve that quickly. Talk about a lucky shot.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Bokuto yelled out his signature phrase, causing some of your campers to excitedly parrot his words. Bokuto had definitely rubbed off on them. “Looks like you were just the teacher I needed” he glanced back at you smiling brightly. He wasted no time coming to collect half of your promise, holding his arms wide open, which caused your pulse to quicken. You attempted to sputter some time of protest, but before you had the time the formulate the words, he engulfed you in an embrace, his arms tightly wrapping around your waist. Your arms only hung loosely around his neck, but Bokuto didn't seem to mind. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he let out a blissful sigh. "Okay, don't be too greedy there" you stammered, starting to pull away after you snapped out of your state of stupor. His grip on your waist loosened allowing you to pull back and see the wide, giddy smile spread across his features. Despite your flustered state, knowing you were the one to evoke that expression on Bokuto's face caused your heart to swell. His actions caused a seedling of hope to grow within you that your feelings for him might just be reciprocated. You allowed your gaze to fall from Bokuto's glowing eyes to his lips, and you wondered if like his hair, they would be surprisingly soft. Maybe... "Y/N and Bokuto sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G" Okay, moment over. You abruptly pulled away from Bokuto at the teasing of your camper, and scratched the back of your head, laughing awkwardly. It seemed harder everyday to keep your composure around Bokuto. "Haha, very funny." you deadpanned, trying to dig yourself out of the current situation. "Everyone, collect your arrows! We have to wrap up so we'll be on time for lunch!" you pointed to your watch for emphasis, watching in relief as their hushed giggles turned into pouty protests. You immediately went to aid the campers, not quite ready to face Bokuto after the camper’s comment, but you swore you could still feel the heavy gaze of those golden eyes. The air felt heavy with your emotions, and you wondered how much longer you had before the sky bottomed out.

✰ continue reading… part five ✰

#bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou #bokuto fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu bokuto #slow burn #mutual pining #Bokuto Koutarou x reader #haikyuu reader insert #bokuto series #bokuto imagine #camp counselor au #haikyuu fanfiction #love like summer rain series

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dearlazerbunny · 4 years

Text

Entwined

Pairings: Loki x Reader

Genre/Ratings: G; No Warnings Apply

Words: 1650

Summary: Loki knows exactly how to quell your insecurities in the face of one of Stark’s infamous galas. (Technically a gift for yeethawboi on Ao3 for their excellent contribution to Lie to Me. You know. that thing I wrote forever ago.)

*peeks in the room*

*rushes in, throws this on the table, then darts back out the door before I can get mad at myself for being MIA for five ever*

The floor-length mirror in front of you might as well be a brick wall, for all the inspiration you’re getting out of it.

Sprawled out behind you on the bed are various gowns of silk and satin, all of them dazzling but none of them catch your eye. You’re perched on the foot of your mattress, hair still inelegantly hanging around your shoulders and not a lick of makeup decorates your face. Your reflection taunts you, and you’re tempted to throw a shoe at it in frustration. You tighten the belt of your robe instead, cinching it around you like armor.

One of Stark’s infamous galas- probably the fifth of this year, you can hardly keep count at this point- is set to launch in just a few hours, and your unlucky ass has been roped into attending. You’ve finagled yourself out of appearing thus far, but yesterday Tony had literally cornered you in the common room and started barking instructions at you while Pepper handed you an armload of garment bags, boxes of shoes, and more jewelry than your entire life is probably worth. He made it very clear- you aren’t getting out of this one. Joy.

So here you are, chin in your hand, steadfastly not picking out a dress to wear and avoiding the stack of boxes bearing designer labels that had been dumped in the corner of your room the second you got home. You don’t want to go. You don’t like parties, you don’t like the press, you don’t like the way too many eyes on you makes you want to squirm out of your own skin. Stark’s blowouts are full of pretty people in beautiful things, cameras flashing in your face, and too many fake, loose smiles drunk on booze and rubbing elbows with superheroes.

Basically, your definition of hell.

You’re still sitting and dreading and contemplating when Loki glides into the room, looking absolutely astonishing in a dark ensemble that looks like it was cut from the shadowed side of the moon. Something is woven into the fabric that makes it simultaneously absorb and refract the light, and it shows off his sharp angles so well you could cut yourself on his cheekbones. Small bits of bronze and gold- a cuff on his left wrist twisted in the shape of a serpent, no doubt some sort of throwing knife at his ankle- glow softly.

You raise an eyebrow appreciatively. “Hot damn.”

He grins wolfishly, giving you a slow turn. “Acceptable?”

“Tony is going to be mad you’re showing him up. Again.”

“Stark wishes he could rival the grandeur of a prince.” He crosses to the bed and runs his fingers over your discarded choices. “These are nice.”

“I suppose.”

The mattress dips, and Loki’s shoulder rubs against yours as he settles next to you. “Then why are you not dressed?”

You huff out a breath, caught between desperately wanting to crawl into his lap and hide there and being terrified of wrinkling his suit. “You look amazing. And I… don’t.”

“Well,” he says amusedly, “putting on a garment might help with that.”

“Putting on a dress is not going to let me compete with whatever Pepper pulls out of her closet tonight. Putting on a dress won’t let me compete with Nat in sweatpants. Never mind the fact all the tipsy blonde vixens who would break a nail just to dance with you.” You hate how bitter you sound, but the idea of having to stand next to the most gorgeous people you know feeling incredibly inadequate in every way is twisting your insides into knots. “You shouldn’t have to have me hanging on your arm dragging you down.”

“Mmm.” Loki doesn’t respond, just studies your reflection. Then he rises and offers you a hand, which you stare at dumbly. “Come, up. Wallowing in self-doubt is not befitting of a princess.”

You tilt your head at him. “We aren’t married.”

“And I have been banished from the title of prince three centuries over. Do you have a point?”

That gets a smile out of you, and you stand, gesturing to the well-loved fluffy spa robe you’ve had since high school. “Think I could just show up in this? Stark has certainly appeared in worse when he’s drunk off his ass.”

Loki rolls his eyes, an impish grin on his lips. “Tainting his drink with Asgardian mead was one of Thor’s better ideas.”

“God, no, please- do not do that again. My eyes can’t handle the impurity.” You’re still staring at yourself, taking in different angles. “I could try on the black one again, I guess…” It was the simplest of the bunch, but still boasted a huge swath of intricate beading that draws attention to places you’d rather not have people look.

Cool fingers walk the neckline of your robe. “I might have an idea. May I?”

You squint at him. “No funny business. None. Nada.”

He winks. “You have my word.”

Rolling your eyes and heaving a long-suffering sigh that very clearly projects the thought why do I put up with you, you unknot the belt and slide the fabric off your shoulders, leaving you in your underthings. It gets tossed to the edge of the bed. “I’m sure you’d have a time with it, but I definitely can’t show up like this.”

Loki pokes you in the side, making you giggle- you’re ticklish and he knows it. “Now,” he says, his voice warm. “Close your eyes.”

“No. Funny. Business.” But you close them. A moment later, the air shimmers and warps around you, enveloping you in something soft. You feel some sort of fabric lay across your arms and fold itself across your waist, then drape atop your toes that are pressed into the carpet. Your hair is tugged gently away from your scalp, then settled back into place.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you feel Loki’s own whispering on your neck. “Breathe, love.”

“S- sorry. What did- can I… see?”

“Be my guest.”

You open your eyes.

Oh.

A gown of deep emerald has magicked into existence, looking like it was tailored for every inch of your body. A rounded neckline shows hints of your collarbone and only touch the tops of your shoulders before giving way to gossamer sleeves that drape like waterfalls from the crooks of your arms. It’s stunningly simple with a bodice that curves to your waist then flares into a skirt just wide enough to evoke images of eighteenth-century princesses of old. Creeping from the hemline are fine bits of lace that look as though they’re spun of gold.

Your hair is braided and woven together to form some intricate pattern. Gold pins hold them in place. Small touches of makeup help frame your eyes and darken your lashes so they stand out against your skin. When you lift the skirt of the gown, delicate shoes peek out from the hem.

“Um.” The expression on your face is a bit ridiculous- your eyes are wide and your jaw has almost dropped to the floor. Certainly not the look someone should be wearing in an outfit like this. You have to make an effort to remember how to blink.

“This is how I see you,” Loki murmurs, one hand pressed ever so gently to the small of your back. “You could be standing next to the most gorgeous woman in the galaxy, and my eyes would only ever be on you.”

“How do you always know exactly what to say,” you whisper back, having regained enough mobility to angle yourself this way and that and admire how the fabric dances in the light.

“Because I know you,” he grins, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. “And it is so easy to indulge the desire to make you feel beautiful. Ah-” when he lets you go, a small box appears in his hand. “This may be in order as well. I did not know what I was saving it for, but I believe now is more than appropriate.”

It’s a necklace. When you lift it from the box, the chain is so fine the emerald pendant may as well be floating in the air. The jewel is entwined amongst what seems like dozens of little strands woven to form an approximation of tree branches. They’re delicate yet strong, almost daring you to try and brush them aside to steal the treasure within.

He settles it around your neck, and it hangs just lower than your chest, adding grace to the gown without distracting from your face. The second it’s clasped, it feels as though its been a part of you since the day you were born.

When you touch it, it seems to glow under your fingertips. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is customary, in Asgard, for a lady to wear a token in her suitor’s colors.” He turns to face you. “But beyond that, its concealment capabilities are as strong as the oldest Asgardian magics. While wearing this,” he cups your cheek, grazing a thumb across your cheek, “nothing shall harm you. I swear on my life.”

You catch his hand in yours. “I don’t need your life hanging in the balance for mine, Trickster. Stay close. Stay with me. And I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“You have too much faith, Witling.”

“And you have too little.” You brush the lightest of kisses to his lips. “Don’t think I’m not going to grill your butt on how much magic it took you to make this thing.” You glance sideways, taking in the dark god and the divinity standing beside him. Interlocked, entranced, and ever entwined. “Later. First- I believe we have a gala to attend?”

Loki’s grin will never not be dangerous.”So we do. Shall we?”

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki x you #loki x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki fic #loki fluff #loki imagine

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth

Warnings: noncon sex (oral, m&f, intercourse)

This is dark!Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader is a fic writer and her number one fan can’t get enough.

Note: This is probably the most meta shit I’ve written but for all the fic writers out there, this one if for you. Hope y’all get the good d you deserve but until then, here’s this!

Please let me know what you think in a reblog/reply! <3 please and thank you.

You let out a sigh of relief and hit ‘post’. It was almost pathetic but it was the best part of your day, or most days. Having something to share with others was nice. The fact that they enjoyed your work and your boredom-induced work made it worth the frustration.

It wasn’t real writing. You knew that. Fanfiction was a genre to be laughed at. You didn’t admit it to anyone but there was a sense of pride to go along with the shame.

That part of you was kept online. The darker parts; the lust, the angst, the fear. It all went hand in hand and no one would guess that the bookshop assistant was stevies-doll. It felt almost scandalous to have a virtual alter ego.

You closed your laptop and checked the time. More than enough to get ready for work. Plain blouse, grey pants, mary jane flats. You were the typical bookish girl with dreams that would never come true.

The bus was late. Oh well. You’d still be there in time you’d just have to forego your usual espresso. Afternoons were draining and you often needed the boost to keep from nodding off in the last hour. You really weren’t sure why the shop stayed open so late; not many came out after five for books but traffic was relatively steady in the hipster village.

Nina met you with a frown. She preferred you at least ten minutes earlier. Tardiness had seen several other clerks fired and you had been the only to make it more than a year in the shop. Three in fact. This place was like a second home. A garden of ideas to plant the seeds of your mind.

When Nina left, you rearranged the desk. You moved aside her ledger and replaced it with your notebook, two pens to the right of it. In between the chime of the door and the rare customer queries you did most of your writing. When you reached a block you’d read, but today you felt particularly inspired.

The world was saved again. The news reports had shown footage of the daring rescue. As grim as the situation was, you couldn’t help but fantasize. The first avenger with his golden hair and sharp jawline was every woman’s Adonis. At least, you thought he was the very picture of perfection.

It wasn’t obsession. That was your mantra. You often argued with yourself. As much as you thought of the great Steve Rogers, it was only admiration. It wasn’t the possessive infatuation often found on social media. It was a hobby. An escape from the world.

You bent over the notebook. The shop was empty. The dulcet tones of indie folk floated along the shelves. You set pen to paper and waited for the ring to draw you away from the world behind your eyes.

You leaned on the counter and scribbled the first line in ink. That was always the hardest part. Then again, the beginning was always more exciting than the end.

‘The day the earth went dark, there was but one beacon left to shine…’

It was amusing at first. The thought of another person spending so much time writing about him. That someone would fabricate an entire universe in which he was entirely different. Somewhere out there was a woman who wore the pseudonym ‘stevies-doll’.

Steve knew he should have been perturbed by the fact. The idea of another so consumed by him that they would post almost every other day about him. He couldn’t remember how he stumbled on the small blog. A decent following but nothing close to viral.

The first story he read was cute. It even made him feel warm. The second was very much the same. He clicked through to another, this one more serious. Grey and daunting. A few more and he stumbled upon one he found most interesting, the letters NSFW emblazoned across the top. He googled the acronym and clicked back to the tab. Excited almost.

When he finished, he was warm in another way. Hot, almost. The things he read, the idea of him doing them, was almost arousing. Of course, he had never done any of it. Had never been more than the perfect gentlemen. Sweet and doting. That was how love should be. But that wasn’t love, no, that story was sex. Pure, unadulterated fucking.

He forced himself away from the computer after that. He needed to sleep. He had intended to browse his email quickly but he often found himself in the oddest rabbit-holes. That was definitely the deepest. He shook his head and chuckled. It was funny.

The next morning he awoke and went about his usual routine. He was out the door by seven. Off to save the world. Or wait around for it to need saving. At Stark Tower, he listened to Tony with his eyes on his phone. It wasn’t anything important. Some recounting about how he had scared Pepper with a nano-spider.

Steve gave a half-hearted chuckle and Tony went back to his screen. “Tough audience,” He muttered to Bruce who merely shook his head.

Steve leaned against a stool and squinted at his phone. He stared at the google search. Why had he typed it in? Somewhere in the tedium of Tony’s chatter, he had keyed in the name. He hit the first link and his phone loaded slowly.

His own face stared back at him. The banner was a press photo he had taken over a year ago. His bright eyes were staunch beneath the mask as he stared off into the distance. She had posted again. His thumb hovered over ‘read more’. Did he dare?

He looked up to make sure he was not being observed. The two scientists were too distracted to care about his online activity. He stood straight and cleared his throat. “I’m gonna hit the gym,” He lied. A grumble from both scientists as they squinted at the floating screens. “Right, have fun.” Steve said dryly as he left them to their work.

He stepped out in the hall and pressed his thumb to the screen. He bent his head over the phone as he walked blindly down the halls. Neither Tony or Bruce noticed through the window that he had gone entirely the wrong way. Steve didn’t either as his eyes flitted over the screen.

‘The day the earth went dark, there was but one beacon left to shine…’

You couldn’t believe how much your blog had grown in the last few months. You didn’t know if it betrayed your unexciting life or your one-track mind. Both, maybe. But it made your everyday responsibilities a little less tedious.

And the messages were even better than the hit count. Several had messaged to say they loved your work and went so far as to call you an inspiration. It was flattering but it was easy to remember who you were. No Stephen King or JK Rowling. You wrote silly one shots with limited development.

Today your inbox had been steady. Every time you found yourself bored at work, you opened the app and you had another message. Most of them short or even just emojis but nice nonetheless. And there was one you were waiting to answer

So long and in depth you had to give it more than just a thanks. You opened it several times and reread it.

‘Your story is really interesting. I think the way your portray Steve is believable. In this type of writing you rarely find anything realistic but your writing feels genuine if not entirely accurate. I would say you capture the essence of Steve perfectly and his actions at least make sense.

I always enjoy your updates and even look forward to them...especially the NSFW ones. ;)’

It was one of the few users who didn't use the anonymous feature and also left a complete comment. It was refreshing and you had come to look forward to their commentary. They went by CapUSA. Another Steve fangirl who was surprisingly inactive outside your blog. Her page was almost a clone of your own. They liked every post, reblogged, and commented. What more could a writer ask for?

Original characters maybe and not just fantasies of someone who’d never know of her existence. You closed your laptop and sighed. It felt like time. You could feel the block at the back of your head. The little thrill you got was wearing off and it felt like a phase better left to fade with your emo days in high school and that month in university when you dyed your hair purple.

You readied for work. Back on days that week. Opening was always easier. It didn’t feel so drawn out. Nina would be in at one and you’d keep her company until four. It meant little time for writing. Maybe that was for the better. You needed to start planning. For the future. For something truly your own. A fantasy so detached from reality that it would make market and maybe even a dime.

That was your dream. You didn’t want to be the listless fangirl forever. Ugh, how you hated to even call yourself a fangirl. No post today, you resigned. Maybe none tomorrow. You’d have to work up the courage to announce your hiatus. Life was calling and for once a sliver of genuine inspiration.

And the bookstore. It was Shakespeare’s birthday, which conveniently was also his death day. This meant two for one on all of his works. Nina also hired actors to stand outside the shop and re-enact famous scene from the playwright’s repertoire. They wouldn’t arrive till noon but you had a lot of set-up to do. Enough to keep you from thinking of the disappointed messages that would fill your inbox.

Steve scrolled through the pale pink blog for the dozenth time that morning. It had been two weeks since stevies-doll posted. The longest two weeks of his life. He wasn’t sure when it had become a staple in his life. A ritual almost. He’d read her latest fic as he laid down and try to clear his head of blood and grime. Lose himself in the person she dreamed he was. The man he had come to envy. Fictional but all too real in his head.

But there was nothing. At first he re-read and read again. But that grew old. He knew almost every story by heart at this point. He could recite the intro line to most and he fell asleep as his imagination reconstructed the things he had never done.

Her banner flashed across his sight when he woke, the image of his blue eyes staring beyond him. He’d come to think of her Steve as an altar ego. The beast buried deep inside of him. He was tired of being the nation’s golden child. Their unwavering moral beacon. He wanted to be him and she had helped him figure out who he truly was.

But she was gone. No green dot above her name in the chat window, her last post dated fourteen days ago, her blog like a time capsule. The ice that had preserved him for seventy years. Where was she?

Then a thought struck him. A devious one. He had been on enough missions to know his way around a computer. He considered himself quite savvy after living nearly a decade ahead of his time. It was simple enough. He tracked down many a drug pin this way and they were often concealed behind walls of encryption. He doubted she had more than a store-bought antivirus, if that.

He climbed out of bed and booted his computer. His leg shook impatiently and he tossed his phone just beneath the corner of the monitor. He rubbed his palms together as the home screen loaded and he clicked on the browser.

Her IP was simple enough to find. Right-click, inspect. When he found it, he felt his heart jump. This was a line. A very clear one. If he did this, there was no going back. He let go of the mouse and leaned his chin in his hands. He stared at her page, split by the window of code, and his jaw ticked.

He hit back and went to the messenger. He clicked on her name and his fingertips ran over the space bar. He didn’t know what to say. He’d send her little asks about her fics but he never messaged her directly. Would she respond?

‘Hey,’ He typed slowly, his fingers sped up with each key, ‘I’m a fan of your work. I think it’s excellent. I just wanted to check in and see if you were still writing for this blog.’

He hit enter and waited. He focused on the grey dot beside her name. If she saw this, it likely wouldn’t be until morning. He checked the time and sighed. It was late. He had an early briefing with Tony and he should try to sleep.

He hovered the cursor over the x but the dot turned green and he paused. The little ‘...’ blipped in the bottom of the chat box and the ding of her reply was music to his ears.

‘Hey, sorry. I know I’ve been quiet lately. I’ve just been so busy with work. I’m a bit behind at the moment. Thank you though for following me. I always enjoy your comments :)’ He read it several times before he could reply. Before he could even think of the words to.

‘It’s okay. We all have responsibilities. Take your time.’ He wanted to tell her to hurry up but who knew? She might be someone important, like a lawyer or teacher. He could wait. As long as there was hope.

‘Thanks. I appreciate that. Really.’ That response was quicker. Curt, almost.

‘I don’t want to overstep but are you okay?’ His cheeks were hot.

‘Ah, you know, life.’

He scratched his chin as he leaned back in his chair. Slowly he sat forward and typed. It took him three tries to get it right. Concerned but not pushy. ‘Anything you wanna talk about?’ He waited. The three dots appeared then faded. Several times before her answer blipped up.

‘I don’t wanna trouble you but I appreciate you asking. Nothing I won’t get over.’

‘Ok, no problem. Just know that if you need it, I could listen. It’s could to talk about stress.’ He laughed at himself. He should take his own advice. He had a horrible habit of letting things pile up until he burst at the seams.

‘Thanks again. I’ll ttyl. I gotta get some sleep. Have a good one.’

‘You, too,’ He replied a bit too quickly. ‘Talk to you then.’

You were ready to post again. It had been almost a month since your last fic and you had been reluctant to return. You couldn’t help checking in daily to see your notifications and scroll mindlessly through your own content. And your offline writing had come to a halt. You were stuck and you didn’t know how else to cope but fall back on what you knew.

Your new friend had helped too. CapUSA had quickly become a stalwart of your blog. She, or he, you still weren’t sure, spoke to you almost everyday. They encouraged you to try one more fic as you mulled over a certain prompt. Why not? It would be like a writing exercise. Maybe it would help you with your original writing. Take some of the pressure off.

And you didn’t just talk about writing. You talked about the bookstore and Nina’s incessant complaints. You talked about the stresses of your lives. Friends, or lack thereof. Cap seemed a popular person and recounted stories of the latest drama. A close knit group of friends who acted more like adversaries. It was amusing and made your forget that your life was rather empty.

You hit post and smiled. That familiar rush rolled over you and you snapped closed your laptop. You were already dressed and ready for work. You crammed in the quick editing session before the bus was due and now you’d have to run for it.

Back on afternoons. It was rainy and you were soaked by the time you got to the shop. The weather always helped traffic and you ducked behind the counter where Nina was tending to the line with Cara, a new addition. The curly-haired blonde reminded you of old Hollywood. Her high cheekbones and rose lips rivaled Monroe’s.

“Do you want me to start early?” You asked as you tucked your bag under the counter between them.

“You better. I’m gone in ten and Cara’s only on til three.” Nina muttered. “We got a new shipment. Boxes are at the end of the aisles. We’ve not had a chance to touch ‘em.”

“Okay, I’ll get right on it,” You pin your name tag on and stepped back around the counter. She was in one of her moods and all the better that you avoid her until she left. You went to the end of the history aisle and opened the box against the wall.

‘You working?’ The vibration drew your attention from re-arranging the non-fiction section. The message floated in a bubble on your lock screen. You smiled. This faceless stranger felt like more. Of course, virtual friendships were often fleeting.

You glanced down the aisle, both Nina and Cara were squinting at the computer as a customer waited patiently for them to figure out their conundrum. You swiped away the lock and typed swiftly with your phone hidden behind your leg.

‘Closing. Here all night.’

‘Oh :( you got company at least?’

‘For a couple more hours. But no shortage of work. :/’

‘Damn. Should I leave you alone?’

‘Up to you. My responses might be sporadic. Boss isn’t very pleasant today.’

‘Cool. I just read your new fic.’

‘Yeah? Sorry I haven’t checked my notifications just yet.’

‘No problem. I left a comment is all.’

‘What are you up to?’

‘Taking a break from driving. I should actually get back to it. It’s a long trip.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘To see a friend.’

‘Ah, ok. Well, drive safe.’

‘I will ;) See ya later.’

‘ttyl :)’

‘Nina’s Nook’. Steve read the crooked moniker several times over. He couldn’t believe he was actually there. That she was inside. He made good time on the road. An eight hour trip in six. Of course, he hadn’t exactly abided the speed limit. His impatience had turned to recklessness. So unlike him.

The sky was dim. The summer nights came later and later. She’d be done in an hour. The streets were dying down and the door hadn’t chimed in almost as long. He felt nervous all of a sudden. He tried to shrug of his anxiety and took a breath.

She wouldn’t know it was him. Well, she might recognize him but she wouldn’t know he was CapUSA. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction. Steve Rogers in her bookshop. In this town. It would be a story she would recount for the rest of her life. An encounter she would never forget.

Oh, he’d make sure she remembered it.

He crossed the street. A single car passed as he stepped up on the curb. It was much quieter than New York. No honking, no shouts, no hissing sewers. He liked it. It was quaint. He stood before the door and peeked through the glass. There was no one behind the desk. But the sign read open and the lights shone in welcome.

He pushed down the handle and slowly opened the door. The bell announced his entrance and a small voice called from the corner of the shop. “One moment, please.” He heard the shuffle of books and light footsteps. She emerged from the far shelves and his lips parted at the sight of her.

He had seen her before. Her few photos on Facebook and Instagram. He had found those shortly after he ferreted out her IP. He couldn’t see much but her privacy settings allowed him a glimpse into her real life. Her smile was nicer than in her pictures.

“Sorry, I was--” She stopped short as she saw him. She blinked. He closed his mouth as hers fell open. Her voice was higher when she spoke next. “I was just sorting some stuff out. I--How can I help you?”

“Um, a friend recommended a book to me and I was passing by, I thought maybe by chance… you might have it.” He kept his voice even. The same one he used for his press conferences.

“Do you have a title?” She asked. He could see her fingers tremble. The guilt as her eyes rounded. She was thinking of all the things she had wrote about him. He was thinking of those too.

“Jeez, you know, I’ve totally forgotten but the author was, uh…” He pretended to think and his eyes drifted down her body. Her flowered blouse was boxy but her pants hugged the curves of her hips and legs. She clasped her hands together and the gesture pushed her chest together between her arms. “Margaret Archer--er, Atwood.”

“Hmm, she’s done a lot. Do you know what it’s about?” She pulled her hands apart and wiped her palms on her dark pants. His eyes followed the movement. He wanted his hands there. Wanted to feel her thighs against him.

“Something about an apocalypse...um, a character named...Snow--Snow something.” He acted like he coudn’t remember. Couldn’t recall that it was stevies-doll who had recommended the very book.

“Oh, Oryx and Crake, I think it is. It’s an interesting one.” She smiled, proud to have figured out the riddle. “If you will, it should be with our most popular books.”

She hesitated as she passed him. He followed her as she went to the shelf just beside the counter. She hovered her finger before the titles as she read them. She bent as she got lower. He admired her ass as she did. He tucked his hands in his pocket before he could reach out.

“Yeah, I think it’s in sci-fi.” She stood and peeked over her shoulder. “It’s just over here.” She led him down the narrow aisle to the end. “Starts just here so Atwood…” She scanned the shelf, “Here.” She pulled out the book and held it out to him. “We have it in hardcover too.”

He took it and felt the raised letters on the cover. “Thanks.” He didn’t even acknowledge the book in his hand. The aisle was so tight she was trapped between him and the wall. She gave a sheepish smile and he turned to press his back to the shelf. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

She nodded and squeezed past him. Her chest brushed against his torso and she pretended not to notice. Once past him, she cleared her throat. “If you need any help, I’ll be up front.” She turned before he could respond and her watched her go. He never would’ve guessed the mousy shop assistant would have such a lurid imagination.

You were in disbelief. It couldn’t be. Steve Rogers in your book shop? No, you were dreaming. Or was it a nightmare? Oh god, why had you written all that stuff? You needed to delete. Now. You could hear him. The floor creaked as he moved slowly down the aisle. You hoped he would’ve taken the book and gone. The longer he stayed, the worse you felt. Your cheeks were on fire.

Your phone vibrated. You swiped the screen and found a new message from CapUSA. You sighed and rubbed your eyes. You should just pretend you didn’t see it. You unlocked the phone and read the message.

‘Hey, how’s work?’

‘It’s fine.’ You answered. What could you say? Who would believe that Steve Rogers had walked in your door?

‘I just was thinking about your last fic.’

‘Oh yeah?’ You peeked over at the far aisle. The floor no longer whined with his weight.

‘Yeah, I’d love to re-enact the last scene.’

‘Sorry?’ You sent the message and it went unanswered. ‘I don’t get it. What do you mean?’

‘The one with the girl on her knees. Begging to be fucked.’

‘Okay? I still don’t understand.’ Your heart jumped. This was really weird.

‘Or maybe and I could fuck you on that counter you’re standing behind.’

You hit close and locked the phone. You dropped it and looked around the shop. You rushed out from behind the counter and glanced out the window. You turned the latch and the floorboards groaned. You turned and pressed yourself to the door. You forgot he was there.

How could you forget something like that?

“Sorry, uh, we’re closing up,” You felt around for the lock, “I was just--”

“That’s okay. I think I’m just about done.” He slapped the book against his palm and placed it on the corner of the counter. He set his phone on top of it with a flourish. “Why don’t you flip the sign and we can get started.”

“What are you--”

“Do you prefer I call you by your real name or stevies-doll?” He leaned against the counter and smirked. “Or I can just call you doll. I know you like that.”

“No,” You exhaled shakily, “Y-you can’t be…”

“You’re not happy to see me?” He asked. He didn’t sound like the hero you saw on the news. Barely looked like him now. His pupils dilated to darken his blue eyes and the shadows of the shop cast his face in sinister tones. “You can call me Stevie if you like.”

“I...What I wrote, it was just...” You spluttered. “I’m s-sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.” He pushed himself away from the counter. “I’m not mad. Intrigued really.”

He stepped closer and your ears pounded as the adrenaline coursed through your veins. You turned and fumbled with the lock. The door opened an inch before his hand slammed it shut again. He easily flipped the lock back into place and spun the sign with a flick of his thumb.

“You can close early and we can have some fun...maybe inspire a new fic.” His arm was around your waist and you grabbed onto his thick wrist.

“They’re just stories.” You kicked as he pulled you away from the door. He tugged the blind down over the window. “Stupid fantasies.”

“Well, consider this a dream come true, doll,” He spun and let you go. You collided with the desk and gasped as the air was knocked from your lungs. “I think you remember this scene.”

“What do you want?” You clung to the desk as you turned to him.

“You know, I’m everything people think I am. Straight-laced, valiant, boring.” He planted his feet and stared you down. “Or was...until I found your blog.” His tongue ran across his bottom lip. “It gets lonely on the road. At first, your blog was like a secret companion. It gave me something to look forward to but then it made me think. So many things I never even knew I was missing out on.”

“Please, I don’t know what you want from me,” Your voice cracked. Your fear surged and left you shaking against the counter.

“I want…” He tilted his head and his eyes flashed, “You.” He paused and pushed his shoulders back. “On your knees.” Your eyes rounded, “Oh yes,” He raised a finger, “Naked.”

You stared at him. You were frozen in place. The counter your only support from melting into a puddle. His nostrils flared as he exhaled; long and drawn out.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” He snarled and his hand balled into a fist.

You gulped and held yourself with one hand against the counter as you bent to unlace your oxfords. You kicked them off with your socks and mustered your strength. You stood on your own and unbuttoned your shirt. You kept your eyes on the aged carpet stretched across the hardwood.

You dropped the blouse onto your shoes and unzipped your fly. The wool trousers slid halfway down without help and you untangled your legs from them. You added them to the heap and stood straight.

“Look at me,” Steve ordered. Your eyes snapped over to him. “Good.” You reached back and he raised a hand. “Stop...I wanna do it.”

He waved you forward and slowly you stepped away from the counter. He bared his palm in a gesture for you to halt and you hung your head. “Eyes up.” He corrected as he came closer. He walked around you and stopped just behind you.

His thick fingers touched the band of your bra and ran along it until they met at the hooks. He carefully unclasped it and the cups fell loose. He tickled your arms as he pushed the straps down them. He took it and flung it away from him. His hands came up to cup your tits and he pushed himself flush to your back.

“You always wrote so vividly of me but...I never knew how beautiful you truly were...how good you feel.” He squeezed and slowly lowered his hands. He dragged them to the side of your panties and slipped his fingers beneath the elastic. He bent as he guided the panties down your legs. “God, that ass.”

You shivered and his hands cradled your ass. He ran his rough palms along your cheeks and up your back. They settled on your shoulders and he pushed down firmly. “On your knees.”

He stepped back and you unsteadily got to your knees. He walked another circle around you. You could hear his dusky breaths. Glimpsed how his hand ran over the front of his jeans.

“Now ask, like a good girl,” He stopped before you and stared down with a smirk. “Go on, doll, I know you want it.”

You closed your eyes and swallowed. You grit your teeth and gather what was left of your wits. A story. That’s all this was. The letters could be backspaced and no one would know better of it.

“Please,” You recalled the last scene you had posted. The tingle which had flowed through you as you hit the button. What had she said? You opened your eyes. “Please, I want to...I want to make you happy.” You shuddered as the words whisked from you. “Can I?”

“Can you...what?” He taunted.

“Can I suck your dick?” It was barely a whisper.

“Oh, well, since you asked so nicely,” His hands were on his belt as he spoke. “But I have a different scene in mind for tonight. A new one.” He unbuckled his belt and cracked his neck. “I want you on the counter. On your back.”

You made to stand and his hand went to your head. He held you down.

“Crawl.”

You weakly dropped forward and turned. You crawled on hands and knees as he followed, stopping just in front of the desk as you followed his pointed finger to the other side. You stood and lifted yourself onto the counter and laid on your back. He guided your head over the side as he pulled you close and his hands found your tits again. He tweaked your hard nipples and you bit your lip.

He rescinded his hands and finished unzipping his pants. You tried not to watch as he pushed his pants down, his briefs too. The blur focused and you gaped at the size of him. He gripped himself and you snapped your mouth shut. He grabbed your chin and squeezed.

“Now, now, don’t act like this isn’t what you wanted,” He pressed his cock to your mouth and you were forced to open as his fingers threatened to crush your jaw.

He slid inside and your gasp was stifled as he met the back of your throat. He forced himself further and you threw your arms out. A clatter of books and papers as you swept them off the counter. He lingered at his limit and wiggled his hips. You arched your back as you choked and he grabbed your tit, kneading it as he slowly pulled out.

He pushed back in just as you gulped down air and you writhed atop the desk. He thrust in and out of your mouth. You gagged and groaned. The noises only fueled his fervour and he sunk in over and over until your head pulsed. The spit smeared around your lips and his balls.

He pulled back and slammed back in suddenly. His motion slowed as he came. He grunted, his breaths stuttered by the staggered rock of his pelvis. You clawed at the counter top and kicked until you could breathe again.

He slipped his cock from between your lips and his cum leaked from your mouth. You sat up and coughed. His hands were on your shoulders again. His fingers danced along your throat as if to ease your struggles.

“Come on, that’s just the first act,” He drew away and you glanced over your shoulder. “Turn around.”

You turned on the desk and he pulled your legs over the edge. He pushed your knees apart and stepped back to admire the view. You dug your nails into the lip of the counter to keep yourself from closing your legs.

“I know you’ve been dying to see this,” He grinned and pulled his shirt over his head.

His cock hung out of his pants. It twitched as he tossed his shirt at you. You caught it. It smelled like him. He shoved his pants down without pause and he hardened again. You dropped his shirt and looked away guiltily.

Had you not written this scene a dozen times over?

He was completely naked when you looked again. He came close, his hands on your knees as he knelt before you. You tried to pull your legs together but he held them apart. He shook his head and tutted.

“Just sit back and enjoy,” He licked his lips. “Trust me, it’s better than you could ever imagine.”

Your shock took over completely. You watched as he bowed his head and you felt his hot breath on your thighs. When his tongue met your pussy you gasped. He delved between your folds and swirled around your clit. Your nails went deeper into the wood and your thighs shook. It felt good. It shouldn’t, though.

He buried his face deeper and you watched his golden locks from above. He reached over blindly, his large hand found yours, and he guided it to the back of his head. He held it there a moment before letting go. You clung to him as he hands glided up your thighs and he framed your vee with thumb and index.

You arched your back and moaned. It was your declaration of surrender. You couldn’t resist it any longer. The heat stirred inside of you, the flames licking at your thighs and back. You urged Steve closer though he couldn’t possibly go any deeper.

His hands slipped down to the outside of your thighs. Your legs closed around his head and held him there. He tipped you slightly and you curled around him as he continued to lap. Your breaths mixed with throaty hums and you fell back.

You had one hand still on his head and the other in your hair as you cried out in a mighty climax. He didn’t stop until you were shaking across the counter. When at last his mouth left you, you shivered. A sudden coolness washed over your body. He stood and you looked at him through the haze.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you to your feet. You wavered and he spun you quickly. You caught yourself on the desk and he slapped your ass. “That’s it,” He purred. “You’re getting it now.”

He nudged your shoulder until you were bent entirely over the counter, your toes barely met the floor. He rubbed your ass and pulled your cheeks apart. His cock poked you as his hand slipped lower and he tickled just below your ass. You squirmed and he chuckled.

He felt around and his cock slipped lower as he bent his knees. He dragged his tip along your folds before prodding at your entrance. He shoved his hand between your legs and forced them apart.

He pushed inside and slowly stretched you around him. Your head shot up at the strain. A mix of pain and pleasure as he got deeper and deeper.

You whined as he bottomed out and his hips bucked almost instinctively. He hit your cervix and you cried out. He eased out and pushed back in. He repeated this again and again, his motion careful. Deliberate. He brought his pelvis flush to your ass and groaned.

“Fuck,” He slapped your ass again.

He drew back and slammed into you all at once. All restraint was lost and he thrust mercilessly. His pace was wild. You reached out to grab at the edge of the counter, your hips hitting the other painfully. The spark had caught and you felt the flame about to burst.

Your orgasm was surprising. More agony than pleasure. You whimpered and pushed your head into the counter as you heaved. You could barely breath as Steve never wavered. He fucked until you until your walls ached. Until they turned numb and you were nothing but a mewling fool before him.

He bent over your, his muscled torso against your sweaty back. He rutted atop you frantically. His hips jerked as his grunts deepened. His breath caught and he swore. He lifted himself off you and you felt the warmth spill down your ass and thigh.

You laid breathless as he panted behind you. He rubbed his cum into your skin with two fingers and you shook. You tried to push yourself up from the desk. He caught your hip and shoved you back down.

“Oh, we’re not even close to the finale,” He pinched your ass and you squeaked. “Not to mention the epilogue.”

tags to be added in reblog

#steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #fic #steve rogers fic #au #marvel #mcu #captain america #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers #steve rogers #dark!fic #dark fic #dark!verse #darkverse

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ochard-fics · 4 years

Text

Bad Ideas - A Spider-man Story

Chapter Index: 1, 2

Pronouns used: they/them

Genre: Enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, young love

Warnings: None

Word count: 6.5k+

Summary: Though you moved across the country about half a year ago, you are still trying to find your footing in the strange streets of New York. On top of that, you are desperately trying to balance your demanding school life at Midtown School of Science and Technology, where you like everyone but you was much more talented and smarter than you could ever imagine to be. Among those students is the one whom you loathe the most: Peter Benjamin Parker, the boy who’s success both in school and in Stark Industries is constantly shoved in your face. The only person who helps you escape those troubles is Spider-man, the hero of Queens and your crush.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this! Likes, retweets, and feedback is appreciated~

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Chapter 1 - Spider-man’s Sandwich Seller

When your mom excitedly told you that you’d start attending Midtown School of Science and Technology (MSST for short) in August you didn’t think much about it. As far as you knew, it was probably like any other public high school in America that was located in a “nice” part of a major city in America. Yet again you’d spent the last 16 years in Southern California, so your knowledge of schools outside of the area was very limited. Still, you felt no joy or resentment of the idea of being an MSST student. You assumed the title of “Science and Technology” was just to play it up as something cool.

But oh boy, how wrong you were.

It’s been four months into your junior year at MSST and you learned the hard way that the “Science and Technology” part of the school’s title was not played up for show. If the school was a cell, it’s STEM* program was the mitochondria of the institution. Everyone around you was excelling somewhere within the programs’ four disciplines, and you could not escape it’s presence no matter what. You would think that your mom would have warned you about this before she enrolled you, someone who was not savvy in the STEM disciplines AT ALL, into this foreign environment.

It had been a couple of weeks since the new semester of junior year started back up and here you were, trapped within the cold walls of the chemistry lab, staring down at your second quiz of the new semester. A pop quiz, no less. One of your worst enemy.

You glanced up at the clock to see how much time you had left. Three minutes. Crap. The first three questions on chemical bonds had you stuck, and you could feel your brain reach its thinking capacity.

Looking over the questions again, you went over your work to see if you had done something wrong. However, you weren’t even sure if the work you were doing was correct. Furrowing your brows, you desperately tried to remember something from your lecture that could make sense of this equation, but the anxiety only left your brain cloudy.

The loud ring of the school bell snapped you out of your thoughts and made you jump in shock, earning you a surprised look from your deskmate, MJ.

“You okay?” She asked, a brow raised by your sudden movement.

“I…” You sputtered, feeling your face flush in embarrassment, and looked down at your quiz to avoid eye contact with her. A heavy and defeated sigh left your body, as you immediately accepted your failure on this exam. “Yeah, the bell just startled me,” you replied, giving her a weak smile. She furrowed her brows at you, but luckily she decided not to press further.

The sound of zippers being pulled and the excited chatter of students almost drowned Mr. Cobwell’s request to hand him the quizzes as they exited the class. MJ went ahead of you as you begrudgingly shoved your pencil pack into your backpack and slung the red canvas sack over your shoulder. Guilt and shame began to press upon your chest as you walked up to Mr. Cobwell, who was trying to organize the load of papers in his arms. He notices your hunched figure as you approached, and his expression turns to that of concern. Averting your gaze from him, you hand over your barely done quiz, to which Mr. Cobwell gazes over it in dismay. He lets out a disappointed sigh, making the pressure on your chest worse.

“(Y/N),” He begins, shaking his head, “We’re half-way into the school year, this is really troubling.” Your eyes look down at your black and white canvas shoes, the embarrassment making it difficult to make eye contact with your superior. Cobwell waits for a response from you, but seems to notice your current emotions so he continues.

“You know, if you are struggling with the lessons, you can always tell me,” he says in a concerned voice, “I understand that chemistry is a very difficult subject for those who struggle with subjects like math. After class you can ask me questions about the lesson if you don’t feel comfortable doing that during the lesson.”

For some reason Cobwell’s genuine concern made you feel even more guilty. What teacher would want to waste time explaining everything to a student who didn’t even understand in the first place? Wouldn’t he think you’re dumb for not getting it? And what if you still needed him to explain because you just couldn’t get it? Wouldn’t he get frustrated and snap at you? You looked up for a moment to meet eyes with Mr. Cobwell, who was waiting for your response. Instead, you headed towards the door, head hung low, and wished him a good evening.

Squeezing through the school of teenagers flooding the hallway, you catch up to MJ, who was leaning by the club bulletin watching the crowd. You called out for her and she turned toward you, giving you a small ‘Sup with her head and leaned off of the walls as you approached her.

“Hey,” she said, nodding her head towards the chemistry classroom, “Everything good?” The last thing you wanted was to bring down the mood to your only friend at MSST, so you shrugged and replied, “Yeah, it was just about the quiz.”

MJ furrowed her brows in concern, saying, “You know, if you need any help, I’m down to do it.” Great, more guilt came from those words. You know MJ meant well, but you couldn’t help the feeling make home in your heart.

“It’s fine, MJ,” you replied, gently shooting down her offer, “Really. You’re already busy with the academic decathlon and art club. Those are more important.” MJ gives you a look, one of ‘Are you sure?’.

She lets out a short defeated sigh and shrugs, replying, “Whatever, it’s your life. Let’s just get to your locker already.” You nod and begin walking with her against the current of students. Four months ago you didn’t really think that your short interaction with MJ would lead you to being pals with her, yet here you both are. Granted, you both were similar in several ways. For one, both of you were the more introverted type, and tended to dress how you liked rather than how others expected you to dress. Both of you were pursuing artists, both having joined the new and improved art club at MSST. Plus, you both liked things that most would consider to be a bit eccentric, such as morbid things like true crime or controversial stuff like surrealist art and history. Flash Thompson, the residential rich idiot of MSST, liked to call the both of you freaks. Though MJ would usually be able to shut his ass up with a comeback that made Thompson look like a dumbass.

However, a friendship wouldn’t be such if there weren’t any differences between the two, and you both had quite striking ones. While MJ tended to be much more blunt, you tended to keep your feelings to yourself. She was also much more observant than you could ever be, since you are more intuitive, though you thought that was mostly your anxiety. Additionally, you tended to be a bit more hot-headed, which has gotten you in a few verbal spats with Flash. The most obvious difference between the two of you, was that MJ was incredibly smart, while you...well, you already know where you were several lacking in the academic intelligence department.

It’s funny, neither you nor MJ verbally agreed to be friends. Both of you just naturally gravitated towards the other whenever you were around each other. MJ insists that she’s a lone wolf, but she considers you her friend, and you the same with her.

The two of you headed towards your locker, where you noticed it was being blocked but a familiar lanky figure in a blue MSST zipper hoodie. Disgruntled, you paced faster toward the figure until you were behind it. The person leaning hadn’t noticed you yet since their back was facing toward you, so to your (and MJ’s) amusement you thought about slamming your hand on the locker next to yours to give the pasty blockade a scare. However, just as you were about to reel your hand in, the figure turns around and faces you.

“Oh! (Y/N)!” Peter Parker, the golden loser as you like to call him, chimes with a crack. You groaned mentally. Damn it, of all the people you wanted to see right now he had to be here.

Let’s get one thing perfectly clear: you despised, no, loathed Peter Benjamin Parker. He was in the same grade as you, and was, unfortunately, in all of your classes. The guy was infamous in MSST for having scored an internship at Stark Industries, where your dad currently works and the main reason you moved from Los Angeles to Queens in the first place. Admittingly, he was incredibly gifted. He, along with MJ and a handful of other students in MSST, was one of the top students at the school. Whenever you watched him in class, you could see how easily everything came to him. He just...got it.

And you hated him for it.

Parker leans off your locker quickly and steps aside, motioning you towards it.

“S-sorry! I didn’t mean to block your way!” he stutters, something he tended to do frequently. You said nothing and gave him an emotionless eyebrow raise, then looked over to see Ned Leeds, who looked like he was trying to hold laughing at his friend’s awkward expression. He was your locker neighbor and Peter Parker’s best friend, so unfortunately you would see Parker too often. You didn’t necessarily mind him, he’s a well-meaning guy, but at times you did find him pretty annoying.

You rolled your eyes at the boys and opened your locker, shoving your Chemistry textbook into it like it was a ragdoll. If it didn’t cost $150 you would’ve loved to lunge it across the halls instead (where it could possibly hit Flash Thompson in the head), but you knew that probably would’ve given you a temporary high of satisfaction. The boys look at you surprised but resume their previous conversation, which seemed to be about a Lord of the Rings lego set. MJ gives her signature judgemental look and, noticing your aggressive behavior, attempts to make you feel better.

“Hey,” she began as you unzipped your backpack and shuffled through the contents inside, “There’s a new episode of the Left for Dead podcast out today. You want to get paletas** and take a listen?”

“I can’t today,” you replied, not looking at MJ and you traded books to and from your locker, “I asked Delmar to give me more hours so I’m going to do part-time on Monday now.” MJ clicks her tongue in disappointment, but shrugs the decline off.

“Dang that sucks,” she says in her monotone voice, “This episode was supposed to be about Black Dahlia, too.” You were disappointed too, so you turned to her.

“We can listen to it over Zoom when I get home,” you assured her, “I’ll be back by 8.”

“Hey MJ!” Ned called out, catching the attention of both you and your friend, “If you’re free, Pete and I were thinking of going to Shawarma Palace right now! Care to join?” MJ declines the offer, saying that she’s just going to go home. Before she heads out, she bids you and the boys a farewell. You then watched as she turned around and walked towards the school entrance, disappearing into the sea of students.

Listening to the new podcast sounds much more fun than work, you thought sadly to yourself. A sad sigh left your body, which caught the attention of Parker.

“Hey (Y/N),” he started, “Are...you okay?” Despite the genuine concern coming from his tone, you felt your fight responses kick it.

“Why do you care?” you ask spitefully, shooting a look at him. The brunette is taken aback by your response, and so was Ned.

“I-I-I just…” Parker stammers, fiddling with his hands nervously, “I saw you talking to Cobwell and you looked pretty upset.” For some reason, this sets you off. Angry, you slam your locker shut, alarming the boys and everyone else around you three.

“Mind your own damn business, Parker.” You say bitterly, giving the already shocked boy an intense glare. Looking at him was only making you more angry, so you slung your red canvas backpack over your shoulder and turned your heel towards the school entrance, leaving Parker and Leeds to wonder what in the hell just happened.

It has been three hours into your shift at Delmar’s Deli and Grill, you tried to keep yourself busy in order to beat the feeling of anger that had lingered on you ever since you left school. Even the soundtracks of your surroundings like the small hum of the heater, the blissful purrs of Murph the bodega cat, the occasion honks from the cars outside, and the every-so-often flipping of pages from the paper Delmar was reading couldn’t distract you from your annoyance towards Parker.

Damn Parker, thinks he could eavesdrop into my personal life, you bitterly thought, aggressively sweeping at the murky tiled floors of the bodega, I’ll kick his ass if I ever catch him-

The small television above the newspaper racks interrupted your internal monologue. You looked up from sweeping to see it playing today’s news. Delmar and you listened in to the report:

“...was hospitalized. According to Queens police, they believe that the attackers are purposely targeting small businesses as this is the fourth one to be robbed these past two weeks,” You watched the pristine-looking woman with a sculpted hairstyle announce as footage was being shown beside her, “From security footage it can be determined that the attackers are a duo, both male, about five foot eight...”

“Jeez, I just reopened this place too,” you heard Delmar grumble, who was looking up at the TV, “Why can’t they rob a Whole Foods or something? Assholes like them, taking advantage of the working man...you must be rotten to go after family businesses. Isn’t Spider-man going to do anything about this?”

“Local police have reported that Spider-man has been informed of the current situation and will be looking into the robberies,” the reporter answered, “For now, authorities are asking that store-owners remain alert and take extra measures to secure their businesses.” Delmar let out a disgruntled grunt and turned to look at you.

“Hey kid,” he called, and you turned to look at him, “Can you keep a look out for customers? I need to make a call to the chips suppliers in the back.”

“Yes sir,” you replied with a nod, “Wait, what if they ask for cigarettes?”

“Give me a shout to ring them up, then.” He called back, already descending to the back of the store. A small huff left your body and you shoved the collected dirt from the floor into the streets of Queens. The skyline began to darken as the sun set, and you watched as the sky looked like a rainbow sorbet. Memories of late night drives with your older friends in California emerged from your memory, where you would sleep in the car to watch the sunset dip into the Pacific ocean waters. Even though you were on the other side of the country, the sunsets were still the same. Yet, for some reason, this one didn’t feel as homey as the ones back in California did.

Suddenly, a figure in a red mask covers your line of sight, and it makes you stumble back while letting out an embarrassing yelp.

“HEY THERE!” the red and blue clad figure announces excitingly, hanging upside down from the store’s awning, “Oh shoot! S-sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” Once you recognized who it was, your lips broke out into a smile. Finally, someone you actually wanted to see today.

“Well, you did,” You said with a cheeky grin, “I thought you only sneak up on criminals, Spider-Man.”

“H-hey, I said I’m sorry,” he said apologetically, coming down right-side up, “I just thought you would’ve enjoyed it.”

“I’m messing with you,” You replied with a playful punch to his arm, “But next time, maybe a heads up before you greet someone bat-style. Do that to Delmar and the dude might get a heart attack.”

“Will do,” he replied, then looked over your shoulder, “Hey, where’s Delmar?”

“Out back making a call to a supplier,” You replied, ushering him inside the bodega, “You want a number five? Pickles and smushed really flat, right?”

“O-oh! Actually,I already had dinner,” Spider-man replied, his angular white lenses widening in surprise by your offer.

“Really?” You said, shrugging your shoulders, “You usually get that during this time. Are you cheating on Delmar’s place?”

“I could never!” He said motioning his arms into an x-sign, “If I ever betray the best sandwich shop in the world then throw me into jail.”

“I’ll remember that when I have to testify in court,” you teased, making your way to the counter. Murph, Delmar’s cat, sat next to the cashier upon his favorite cushion, purring loudly as the two approached him.

“Heya Murph!” Spider-man said, scratching behind the feline’s ears, “You doing good? Keeping Spider-man’s sandwich seller company?”

“Is that what you call me?” You asked, an amused smile spreading across your face, “I feel pretty honored by that title.” The masked hero of Queens let out a chuckle, and somehow hearing it made your ears turn pink. Then, a thought came to you that you expressed out loud.

“You know,” you began, still watching Spider-man give Murph some butt scratches, “You have the exact same order as someone I know.”

“R-really?” Spider-man stammered, retreating his hand from Murph in surprise. You looked at him, brows raised, “Aha...who is it?”

“Peter Parker,” You replied, deciding to rearrange the misplaced chips from the rack beside the counter, “‘Goes to my school.”

“Y-yeah, I remember you mentioning him a few times,” He said, his voice raising, which you noticed he does when he gets nervous, “He’s the one you don’t like?”

“Right,” You replied, not looking up from the rack, “Is it true that he works at Stark Industries?”

“Yeah, yeah! Of course he does!,” He replied, his voice going higher and cracking, “W-why do you ask?” He began to fiddle with his hands anxiously.

“Well,” You started, brushing your hands on your forest green apron, “My dad works there, but he never sees him.” Your dad was the head of International Affairs at Stark Industries. He mainly handled communication between Stark and companies they were planning on selling to. You didn’t know much about his job and you didn’t plan on it. You blamed the job from taking you away from your home, and your dad...well, you already had a complicated relationship with him. The move just made it much worse.

“R-really? Isn’t that weird,” Spider-man replies, rubbing his hand behind his neck, “W-well, I--Peter, doesn’t work with International Affairs. He works more with superhero stuff.”

“Like what?” You asked him, somewhat intrigued. You knew you were never going to find out from Peter personally, so might as well get the inside scoop from Spider-man himself.

“U-um…” His aperture-like eyes shift narrowly, seemingly unable to answer your question. Before you could press him further, you heard Delmar call out from the back of the store

“Hey kid! Your shift’s over!” Your Dominican boss announced. You look over to the counter to see him emerge from the back of the store.

“Best you go now since the streets are-” Delmar notices who is beside you and his eyes light up with glee.

“Ey, Hombre Araña!” Delmar exclaimed, smiling like he’s seeing an old friend, “Are you here for your usual? It’s on the house!”

“Hey Delmar,” Spider-man replies as he turns to him, waving to him, “N-no thanks, I just ate.”

“Hey, you better not cheat on me with Sub Heaven,” the middle-aged man jokes, waving his index finger at him, “I would know if you are.”

“Hey don’t worry, I’m loyal!” Spider-man replies with a laugh. Delmar chuckles then looks over to you, where you were looking at your favorite hero with a smile. He then turns back to look at Spider-man.

“Hey Spider-man,” He began, “Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Y-yeah?” the hero says, straightening himself up, “What’s up?”

“Can you give the kid a walk to the bus stop?” He asked, motioning his head towards you“It’s getting dark and with the recent news, I want to make sure they get to their stop safely.” You shot your head at Delmar, your smile falling as your eyes widened in shock. “D-Delmar! I-it’s fine!” You began, waving your hands frantically, “It’s just a ten minute walk to the stop-”

“Of course!” He replied almost too keenly, interrupting you,”I-I’d love to!” You looked back at Spider-man, surprised. Was he saying that just to be polite? You thought as your blush began creeping down to your cheeks.

Delmar gave him a hearty thanks and motioned you to come to the back to clock out. You did so in a haste, your thoughts going into key mash mode. This wasn’t the first time you’ve ever been alone with him---you’ve had several run-ins with the masked hero. Any person who was enamored by superheroes would be stoked to have him be their walking buddy.

However, he wasn’t just any superhero. To you, Spider-man meant so much more. This may or may not have something to do with you having a major crush on him ever since you met him in the summer of last year. After almost five months of seeing him practically weekly, you liked the feeling that you knew Spider-man. Yet, you were still unaware of who was behind the mask. With your crush developing harder and harder, the curiosity began to nip at you aggressively.

You clocked out from work and hung up your apron, then wished Delmar and Murph a buenas noches, as you headed towards the deli’s entrance door. You slung your backpack over your shoulders and noticed that Spider-man was waiting in the front of the store, waving hello to an excited child passing by across from the bodega. You brushed some of Murph’s cat hair off of you (your dad would throw a fit if he found cat hair in the house again) and straightened up, mentally calming yourself. You practically skipped up to Spider-man and told him that you were ready to go. He turns to you and gives you an eye (lense?) smile, and you two begin your way towards your stop.

During the first couple of minutes into the walk, you were in an argument with your thoughts on what you should talk about with Spider-man. It would’ve killed you if this ten minute walk was in silence! Thankfully, he began speaking.

“So,” He started, “Anything exciting happened to you today?” This. You thought, but obviously you would sucker punch yourself in the face if you said that out loud.

“Eh, not much,” you responded with a shrug, “Had a chemistry quiz today.”

“How’d it go?” he asked as he looked out, resting the back of his head atop his hands.

“Wonderfully,” you said sarcastically, looking down at your shoes, “Only completed three questions out of the ten on the quiz. At this rate I’m going to be the top student!” He looked over at you, watching as you kicked a piece of gravel with your foot. You let out a sad sigh.

“It’s my fault,” you continued, “I should’ve studied harder. But I just get so overwhelmed by the material I freak out and then when I freak out I get anxious and then when I get anxious I just can’t focus and when I can’t focus I don’t study!” You exhaled.

“Whoa, whoa, easy,” Spider-man says, motioning you to calm down, “Why don’t you ask someone for help on the subject? Like your teacher or a tutor?” You let out a dry laugh, remembering what Mr. Cobwell had said earlier.

“No teacher wants to deal with a student like me,” you replied, not looking up at him, “I don’t blame them, I would get frustrated when I have to repeat the same god damn thing a thousand times to someone who still can’t get it.”

“But it’s a teacher’s job to help students understand what they’re learning,” Spider-man said, “That’s the whole point!”

“I know,” you hang your head lower. God, you hated that he was right. “I just...it feels embarrassing,” you admitted, “Even asking help from a friend.” You began to pick at your fingernails, remembering MJ’s offer from earlier.

“And a tutor...well, I used to have one back home,” you said, and Spider-man watched you closely, “But my dad saw them as a waste of money so he took over. But he’s not the best tutor.” The memories of your dad trying to “help” you made you tense, and the emotions from earlier today started to creep back.

“I get where you’re coming from, in a way,” Spider-man replied, and you looked up at him, “When I first started out as Spider-man I insisted that I didn’t need anyone’s help. I felt guilty asking for help because I wanted to assume responsibility for something I felt was my problem.” His arms fell to his sides as he looked up, reminiscing.

“I didn’t want to drag the people I cared about the most into my problems,” he continued, “I didn’t want them to get hurt. But then it ended up...hurting someone I cared about the most.” You felt the weight of his words as he looked down.

“I couldn’t look at Ma-,” he stopped himself, “I mean my closest peers without feeling like it was all my fault. If I had only been honest about my feelings, I thought maybe things would’ve been different. ”

You watched the masked man, and you could tell that this anecdote was hard to bring up. People put super-heroes on such a high pedestal, seeing them as invincible people with nothing to lose. How forgetful they are that they have lives too, that they have dealt with hardships and flaws. From the tone and inflections of his voice, Spider-man sounded fairly young to you. Maybe he was your age, or maybe slightly older. You didn’t know if he was human or not, but you could imagine that getting these powers came at a price.

Everything comes at a price, you remembered your parents telling you. Nothing comes without consequence.

“Then things began to change when Mr. Stark recruited me,” he went on, “It was the best moment of my life. Finally, I thought, I could do something more and still protect those I care about. I felt like I was finally doing more.” He let out a dry chuckle.

“I became so confident that I could do more, and I even disobeyed Stark because I thought I didn’t need help,” you continued to listen in intently, “And it blew up in my face.”

“The point is,” He looks up at you, “Asking for help doesn’t mean you’re dumb or weak, it means that you’re strong enough to know when you need it. The words weighed on you, and you looked out, thoughtfully. Maybe he’s right, your consciousness spoke, But it still seems so...terrifying. You noticed that you were at your stop, but your bus was running a bit late.

“We’re here,” You spoke, pointing your thumb towards the green bench that was next to a bus stop pole.

“Ah,” Spider-man noticed this, and you both stopped walking. You both turned to each other.

“Thank you for walking me here,” you said, giving him a smile, “I appreciate it.” The masked boy rubbed the back of his neck again, seemingly bashful by your gratitude.

“H-hey, no problem,” he said shyly, “Got to look after civilians, after all.”

“Right,” you responded with a chuckle, tilting your head to the side with a raised brow.“‘The little guys’ Are we the munchkins of Oz and you’re Dorothy Gale?”

“Wh-what?!” Spider-man exclaimed, shaking his head, “N-no! That’s not what I-”

“I mean, you guys almost have the same color scheme,” You pressed on, amused by his reaction, “You just need the ruby slippers and you’re good to go.”

“H-hey,” he whined, shuffling his feet all embarrassed.

“Gosh,” you laughed, “For a diligent super-hero, you’re way too easy to tease.”

“A-am not,” He pouts as he crosses his arms, looking down at his shoes shyly.

“Oh my god,” you said, stifling a laugh, “You’re acting like my seven year old neighbor now.”

He looks up and gives you a glare, but then lets out a chuckle; a sound that warmed up your heart and your cheeks. The sound of the bus honking made you both look over to see it pulling into your stop. Darn it, you were having such a good time with him! You thought with a scowl. A disappointed sigh let your lips and you turned to look at your crush.

“Thanks again,” you said, giving him a shy smile, “Hopefully I’ll see you soon?”

“Y-yeah,” he said, almost sounding enamored by your smile, “G-get back home safely.”

“W-will do,” you stuttered back, forcing yourself to look at him even though you wanted to desperately hide the blush that was growing on your face.

“And (Y/N),” you looked up at him as he continued, “I-if you need me to walk with you again, d-don’t hesitate to holler at me.”

“O-oh n-no it’s okay!” You exclaimed, waving your hands dismissively, “I-I don’t want to take up your time!” Then, you watched as Spider-man took a step toward you, making your heart beat widely. Gently, he placed his arm atop your shoulder, and your body froze in shock.

“You,” he began, looking at you sincerely (or as sincerely as his lenses could make him look), “You never take up my time. I enjoy being with you.”

And at that moment, you felt your soul ready to rocket itself into the clouds from pure joy.

You wished you could stay like this, but the screeching of the bus’s brakes broke both of you out of the moment, and Spider-man retreated his hand from your shoulder.

“I-I, um,” he rubbed the back of his neck yet again, while you were still processing what just happened, “You better go.”

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, then forced your body to turn it’s heel and head toward the bus. You turned and gave Spider-man a small wave, to which he returned. You adjusted your backpack and headed inside, tapping your bus card and then quickly taking the nearest available seat. As the bus doors closed and began your hour long ride, you watched as Spider-man shot a web toward the nearest building, then swung into the night.

Wow, you thought as you placed your backpack atop your lap. That was all you could think. Wow.

The bus ride had been long and tedious, but soon you were walking up the footsteps towards your house in the quaint area of Maspeth, Queens. You opened the door and upon entering your two-story brick house you could hear the television from the living room. You glanced over and saw your mom and dad sitting in their designated lounge chairs across from the wide monitor that was displayed on the wall. It seems that they were watching one of those night time talk show hosts from New York.

“I’m home,” You announced, kicking your sneakers off of your feet as you shut the door behind you. Mom looked up and saw you.

“Welcome back, dear!” Your mom greeted you with a cheerful yet tired smile, “How was work?” You told her the same old thing you’ve said to her before (“It was okay, I’m just tired.”), though you opted to leave the bit about Spider-man out.

“Well, I’m glad you got home safely,” She says, “If you’re hungry I made some dinner.”

“Nah, I ate at Delmar’s,” You replied, quickly reminiscing on your number two sandwich from earlier. It wasn’t your usual, but you were going to lose it if Delmar nagged at you for having a number five every single night you worked. Upon hearing this, mom furrows her brows in disappointment.

“Eating all of those sandwiches isn’t healthy for you,” she comments, turning back to the television, “I don’t know how well sanitized that small place is, who knows what kind of chemicals are in those ingredients.” You bit back the urge to snap at her, because this isn’t the first time she made this dumbass claim.

“Did you have an exam today?” You heard your father’s low but stern voice come from the living room. He didn’t turn to look towards you.

“N-no,” you replied sheepishly, playing with your fingernails nervously, “Just a chemistry quiz.”

“I better see an A on that,” He coldly replied, and even from the house entrance you can feel his annoyance, “You have all this time to work on your damn art projects and working in that junkyard so I better see the same effort in your STEM classes.”

Your teeth clenched, feeling the ball of emotions form in your throat. Without saying a word, you headed upstairs, where you entered your bedroom and crashed head first into your unmade bed. A long breath you didn’t even realize you were holding escaped your body, muffled by your bed sheet. You got up and slipped off your backpack, then turned to take a look around your very messy room.

It’s been a while since you last cleaned up your space. The art table was littered with your current gouache paint project of a plant study, your art board was discarded near the end of your bed, the books on your shelves were completely disorganized, your desk had your biology notes scattered upon it, and you still had a unfinished sketched canvas of an ocean sunfish lying next to it. The sound of your mom nagging at you to keep it clean knocked at your brain, immediately making you annoyed.

Dreading the scolding that could be, you let out an exaggerated huff and began to organize your art table. Mid-way through putting your gouache tubes in their designated container, you remembered your mom passively commenting about how Peter Parker probably keeps his desk very tidy, and that’s why he’s doing so well in school.

The memory had you clenching your fists, annoyance from the memory returning. Even at home, you couldn't escape Peter Parker's presence, and that ticked you off more than anything in the world. Why couldn’t he just be a dumbass and leave it at that? No, he had to be a smart dumbass. How fucking annoying.

“Stupid Parker and his stupid perfection,” you mumbled angrily to yourself as you shoved the rest of your gouache tubs into the containers, “I hope I don’t have to deal with your stupid face forever.”

Tuesday had been an arguably much better day, and it was made better by the fact that you had art club after school.

You arrived at the art club meeting room, which was just the school’s art studio. Easel stands were climbed together at one end of the room, while several artworks of students were sprinkled across the room. You could smell the wet ceramic clay from the other side of the room, where several to-be finished artworks were bagged up to keep their wet form.

The wooden drawing horses were arranged in a semicircle, where they had already been occupied by your fellow art club members. In no time you were able to spot MJ, who was waving at you to notice her. Smiling, you scuttled on over to the unoccupied wooden seat next to her, place your backpack underneath. The both of you said your greeting even though you just had chemistry together.

“What do you think we’ll be doing today?” You asked her curiously.

“Dunno,” She responded, leaning back and crossing her arms, “This is my first time joining the school’s art club. This time last year I’d be in one of the rooms where they held detention and draw the sad people in there.” You looked off and nodded, seeming to get it.

“But,” she started, and you looked back at her, “If I had to guess, I think we’ll probably talk about the spring show. The arts department needs money anyways so auctioning off student work is usually a good way to bring in the dough.”

As if on cue, Ms. Narvaez, the newest art teacher at MSST and the club’s advisor, entered the studio. Everyone turned to greet her and she returned the greeting with a gentle yet tired smile.

“Afternoon, guys,” she greeted, placing her bag of materials on her desk at the corner of the room, “I’m glad to see that everyone came today because we have something really important to discuss.” She rummaged through her bag then pulled out her trusty yellow acrylic clipboard.

“In about a month we’ll be holding our annual spring art show,” she announced, heading to the front of the semi-circle so that everyone could see her, “We need to think of a theme for this show today, so we can print the fliers out as soon as possible and encourage the students at this school to participate. Last year we had a whopping fourteen people submit work, but it was all from you guys.” Everyone looked at each upon hearing this information.

“So,” she continued, “We need a good theme so we can bring in more submissions. More submissions could mean more auctioned-off art, which will lead to more funding for our department.” Everyone began to whisper to each other, though not very enthusiastically.

“Please take out a sheet of paper and write down any themes you have in mind, no matter the number,” said Ms. Narvaez, and everyone began to unzip their bags and grab their notebooks. MJ and you did the same, grabbing a notebook that you specifically had for ideas for art. You turned to the next blank page and began jotting down anything that came up in your mind.

Camouflage

Growth

Becoming

Home

Serenity

You were about to list another word when a knock alerted you and the rest of the art club. Everyone turned and you saw your guidance counselor, Ms. Lee, peeking from the entrance of the studio.

Uh oh. You thought. Guidance counselors making unannounced appearances was never a good sign in high school.

“Oh, Florence!” Ms. Narvaez smiles upon seeing her wife, “Do you need to speak to me?”

Ms. Lee smiled. “Hi dear,” she turned to meet your eyes, “Actually, I’m here for (Y/N).”

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

Annotations

* = STEM stands for Science Technology Engineering and Math

**= paletas are Mexican popsicles that you can get from men on the street pushing a ice cream cart full of them

Ms. Narvaez is based off of American actress Lauren Velez

Ms. Lee is based off of actress Sandra Oh

#bad ideas fic #spider-man x reader #peter parker x reader #mcu fanfiction #reader insert #spider-man reader insert #spiderman fics #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader

31 notes · View notes

angelicthor · 5 years

Text

billion dollar man - part 15

pairing: tony stark x reader

summary: after mounting bills and debt cause you to look at alternative means of making money, you’re thrown into a whole different kind of life when one of the most famous billionaires on the block offers to be your sugar daddy, of course in exchange for a different from of payment. non-superhero au.

warnings/genre: +18 only, sugarbaby/daddy relationship, fluff, angst, smut x3: exhibitionism, outdoor sex, slight dom!tony, 69.

masterlist | billion dollar man masterlist

a/n: Carol Danvers in this series is based on Charlize Theron, not Brie, just to make the story line more comfortable! Please let me know what you think!

You adjusted your dress one last time in the mirror, it clung to you like a second skin, showcasing every inch of you through the thin material and you’d brought it for the specific reason of making Tony’s head spin, wanting to look your absolute best for his birthday.

Unlike Nat, Tony had decided forgo throwing a lavish party this year, thinking it best for his reputation if things got out of hand - which they tended to do at his gatherings - and instead choose to spend his birthday at his mansion in Malibu with you and the rest of his friends. The thumbing bass of the music travelled through the house, a few celebratory cheers sounding as the party started as you checked your appearance to make sure everything was perfect before heading down to join everyone.

Although the number of people attending the celebration was much smaller than Nat’s you had no doubt that it would be just as rowdy, if not more so, than hers. Your point seemed to be proven as Thor and Steve came bombing past you in nothing but their underwear at such speed that you nearly toppled over, both of them launching themselves into the pool as everyone cheered them on from the side lines. You thought back to your university days, the hours you spent pouring over Steve Rogers’ most impressive case files and the image you had crafted of him in your head of a serious strait-laced lawyer couldn’t have been further from the truth.

You spotted Tony on the other side of the room chatting with Sam and Bucky, his attire was more relaxed than normal, but he still looked good. A crisp white shirt tucked into dark grey slacks, the sleeves rolled up and first few buttons undone as he forwent a jacket and tie, his hair left free from product and somewhat stylishly tousled, the slight grey growing through his dark strands behind his ears giving him a silver fox vibe.

Ok, so maybe he looked more than good.

His grin widened as he met your gaze across the room, eyes approvingly drinking in your form as he left Sam and Bucky behind, knowing smirks plastered on their faces, before coming to a stop before you, hands resting on your hips and pulling your body flush against his.

“Fuck, you look incredible,” Tony muttered, nipping at your lower lip as your fingers tangled in the thick hair at the base of his neck, tugging gently on strands.

“Funny, I was just about to tell you the same thing.”

“Oh really?”

You claimed his lips with your own, tongue licking into his mouth in a filthy kiss effectively cutting off whatever crass remark he was going to make, feeling his lips curl into a smirk as his hands travelled from your hips to your ass.

“Happy birthday daddy.”

Tony emitted a noise, something between a strangled groan and a growl, his nose bumping against yours as he rested his forehead against your own, dark eyes blown with lust staring intently at you.

“Bad girl.”

His hand came down to lightly spank your ass, revelling in the way your eyes widened and body jolted at the surprise contact. With a hand on your lower back, Tony lead you to the bar, pouring you a drink before escorting you into the heart of the party, people dancing and drinking as music rang throughout the house. Steve and Thor had both emerged from the pool, standing amongst everyone else in nothing but their soaked through boxers as they raced to down as many shots as they could, boisterous chanting surrounding them, egging on their absurd exploits.

Tony’s Malibu Mansion was a thing of beauty, carved out of white marble it was a delicate blend of both old and new – tradition and modernity – a perfect reflection of its owner’s mind. It was open and spacious, rooms upon rooms fit for whatever he desired, the pool outside overlooking the Malibu coast that the house was built over. Given the size of the abode, all of Tony’s guests were staying there for the duration of the mini-break taken for his birthday and you wondered if the seclusion from the outside world was the reason why people seemed to be acting wilder than usual, the absence of fear at being spread across trashy magazines and gossip sites making people looser than they usually were. Or maybe this was simply how all of Tony’s birthday parties happened to go. The latter wouldn’t surprise you in the slightest.

The place was filled with everyone who was close to the birthday boy and you relished in the feeling of contentment that washed over you as you realised just how many people cared about the man, your mood only dampening slightly when you realised that he didn’t even comprehend just how loved he was by everyone in this room.

Rhodey was here with his wife Carol, hand resting on the little swell of her pregnant belly, and you could tell that Tony was going to spoil that child rotten when they finally arrived. They were chatting to Happy and Pepper who had been forced to take time of from their normal responsibilities and join in with the celebrations, not that they minded of course, happily telling Rhodes and Carol about their upcoming wedding.

Steve and Thor were now engaged in an arm-wrestling contest as Sam and Bucky placed bets on who would win, Nat standing to the side rolling her eyes but the small smile on the face gave away her amusement. Sharon and Hope were sat on one of the sofa’s, a bottle of wine on the table before them as they laughed together about something or another, most likely the poor dance moves of Bruce and Scott on the makeshift dancefloor not too far from them.

The only person absent was Obadiah who couldn’t leave work apparently and you couldn’t say you were disappointed, you had never warmed to the man and you were certain the feeling was mutual but you knew how important he was to Tony, the only family he really had left and so you kept those thoughts to yourself.

Every other important person in Tony’s life were in this very room, all ready to celebrate his birthday with him, to rejoice in his life and their friendship and love for him. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice Tony wrap his arm around your waist from behind, resting his head on your shoulder as he kissed the exposed skin of your neck.

“Lamborghini for your thoughts?”

You let out a snort at his paraphrase, not doubting for a second that he would in fact gift you with such a car if you so much as hinted at it. The two of you began to mindlessly sway slightly, completely ignoring the beat of the music in favour for your own melody that only you could hear.

“I don’t think you understand how birthday’s work; people are supposed to give you gifts, not the other way around,” You teased, turning in his arms to wrap your own around his neck.

You expected to see Tony’s trademark cheeky grin playing at his lips, mischief in his eyes that dared you to participate whatever game he has playing but the was an uncharacteristic seriousness to his features. He still held the same warmth he always did, he was still your Tony, but this was not a joke to him.

“I already have everything I could want.”

His eyes didn’t leave yours for a single second, his face a picture of sincerity, it was nearly too much – too intense - you were torn between needing to bury your face in his chest to avoid his gaze and the inability to remove your eyes from his. You were waiting for the teasing, for the quip, for the inevitable façade to drop but it never did, he just kept his steady gaze on you, seemingly anticipating your response.

Your lips parted but no words would pass them. The silence between you stretching on until you could take it no longer, hand reaching out to cup his cheek, lips quirking in a small smile as he turned and pressed a delicate kiss to your palm.

“Tony, I…”

You what? You weren’t even sure what the end of such a sentence was. Or maybe you were. Maybe it wasn’t uncertainty but fear that kept those words at bay. A confession that you had yet to reveal to yourself.

Before you could think to hard on what to say to him, you heard a shout from across the room, heading snapping in the direction of Sam, Steve, and Thor who were rushing towards the two of you. “Stark!” Thor’s voice boomed like thunder and Tony’s eyes widened, muttering a curse under his breath as he quickly stepped back from you, much to your confusion.

You watched as the hoisted Tony from the ground, easily carrying his weight between the three of them and ran straight towards the pool, throwing Tony into the water before jumping in after him with a yell.

You hid your smile behind your hand, a mixture of shock and amusement running through you as you watched Tony resurface, hair stuck down to his head as he shot an annoyed look at his three friends.

“Seriously? Every year?”

Laughter sounded from behind you, the rest of the party standing along the pool side watching the scene infold before them. You jumped when you felt someone’s breath on your neck, turning to see Bucky shooting you a sinister smirk that caused you to take a few cautious steps away from him.

“Nu-uh Doll, don’t think you’re getting out of this that easily, it’s tradition.”

His arms wrapped tightly around you before you could protest, lifting you off the ground as you let out a startled scream at the sudden altitude change, clinging on to Bucky with a vice-like grip that you were sure would leave marks as he ran towards the pool, submerging you both in the water before you managed to free yourself from his grip.

You resurfaced with a gasp, scowling at Bucky as you wiped the water from your eyes, slapping his arm as he laughed at your reaction, your annoyance short lived as you joined in his laughter, a jovial squeal escaping you as you were sprayed with water as Nat jumped into the pool. Soon enough everyone had thrown themselves into the water – aside from a pregnant Carol, who sat on the poolside with her legs dangling into the water – all fully dressed as they swam about, splashing each other and fooling around like a group of unsupervised children.

You giggled as Tony glided through the water towards you, arms wrapping around your waist as you both spun effortlessly in the water. You combed your fingers through Tony’s wet hair, legs wrapping around his hips, taking full advantage of your weightlessness in the pool.

“You know, if I knew this was going to be a pool party I would have dressed more appropriately,” You taunted, nodding to your ruined dress that clung to your skin, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Before Tony could respond, the sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips letting you know that he most certainly had something to say, Bucky swam by you on his back, the picture of relaxed elegance as he seemed to recline against the water, the small kicks of his feet pushing him wherever he wanted to go.

“Hey, if you wanna slip out of that dress doll, I sure as hell won’t stop you.”

Your arm cut through the water to send a wave right in Bucky’s face, his cheeky smile falling from his lips as he spluttered at the water caught in his throat and your grinned victoriously. You missed the dark look that passed over Tony’s features but felt the way his fingertips dug into your thighs, nowhere near enough to bruise but hard enough to bring your attention back to him.

Tony captured your lips in a steaming kiss that caused everyone around you to whistle at the sight, your cheeks burning as you buried your face in Tony’s neck. Soon enough the party continued on, no one fazed by the change of location or their ruined attire: Thor and Steve were now competing to see who could hold their breath under water the longest, Scott was doing hand-stands under water, Hope and Sharon were to the side talking with Carol. Happy, Pepper, and Rhodey were in the shallow end talking amongst themselves, Bruce was floating on his back without a care in the world and Natasha was sat on Sam’s shoulder challenging you to a game of shoulder wars.

Without realising, Tony had sunk below the water, quickly moving between your legs until you rested on his shoulders and quickly standing with you atop of him, a startled scream escaping your lips as your quickly moved to balance yourself. Tony’s hands gripped your knees, his beard scratching at the skin of your thigh as his lips grazed the sensitive skin there, your muscles twitching in retaliation to the delicate onslaught and you wondered if Tony could feel the heat of your pussy radiating against the back of his neck.

Nat wasted no time in grapping your hands with hers, trying to push you off of Tony’s shoulders as Sam and Tony tried to keep you both upright, insults flying between them both as you and Nat struggled atop of them. Your raucous giggles hindered you, body shaking with them and you had to stop yourself from falling more than once, upper-body strength diminishing as laughter grew at the look of pure determination on Nat’s face.

Soon enough, you were pushed off Tony’s shoulders, the both of you falling backwards into the water as Sam and Nat hollered in victory, making a lap around the pool with her still sat firmly on his shoulders as they both gloated over their conquest.

The pair decided they needed another drink to celebrate and at the promise of more alcohol, the pool was soon vacant of everyone but you and Tony, the sudden silence around you was only disrupted by the faint sounds of the party continuing back in the house.

“Don’t you want to go back inside? It is your party after all?”

“I’m right where I want to be.”

The teasing smile slipped from your face at the softness in his features, the gentleness of his tone that was void of its usually cockiness and the seriousness in his eyes reminded you of that uncharacteristically vulnerable moment before the boys decided to baptise him in his own pool and just like before you were at a complete loss at what to say.

Before you could think to hard on the matter, Tony stole your breath in a kiss backing you up until you were pressed against the side of the pool, his body pressed flush against yours and you could feel his hard length against your thigh causing you to break the kiss as you gasped in shock.

He couldn’t be serious. Could he?

Tony seemed undeterred by your hesitation, trailing kisses down your throat as he hooked your thigh over his hip, grinding his length against your panty-covered core. You bit your lip to silence the moan that threatened erupt from deep within your chest and you could no longer tell if the wetness in your panties was from the pool or your arousal.

“Tony,” You groaned lowly for only his ears, “We’re outside and your friends are within hearing distance, you can’t really want to do this here.”

“C’mon, I can be quick. And you can be quiet,” Tony nipped at your throat causing you to buck against him, “It’s not like you haven’t cum in front of them before babygirl.”

Heat flooded your cheeks at the memory of those damn vibrating panties and the way he had made you cum in the middle of a charity gala of all things at the very table your friends were all sat around.

“Ya know, I distinctly remember you saying that you had to do whatever Nat asked for her birthday. What? Don’t I get the same treatment?”

You cast a quick glance over your shoulder, making sure that you were in fact alone and that everyone else was preoccupied with the party indoors before your hands moved to deftly unbutton his pants, pulling the zipper down and lowering them enough to free his hard cock, stoking him in your hand as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Tony chuckled darkly at your submission, hands cupping your ass as you pressed you even harder against the pool wall at your back. “Good girl,” He purred in your ear before biting at the lobe causing you to let out a needy whine.

You wrapped your arms around Tony’s neck as he gripped his length in his hand, pushing your panties to the side before running the swollen tip through your glistening folds, your body keening as he bumped against your sensitive clit. Without wasting pretence, Tony pushed into your awaiting heat until he was seated deeply within you, your mouth falling open as a guttural moan threatened to spill from your lips at the feeling of being so full. You bit down on Tony’s shoulder, the slight chemical taste of his soaked shirt from chlorine and detergent coating your tongue, but you couldn’t find it in you to care, your sounds of pleasure were muffled and that was all that mattered in that moment.

Tony began a bruising pace, quickly fucking into you with short, strong thrusts, your ankles locked tightly on his ass as you clawed at his back, the position you were in causing Tony to graze against your g-spot every time he thrust into your wet cunt. His fingers moved to trace messy circles around your clit, the pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves coupled with his harsh thrusts pushing you towards your climax at record speed.

A soft whimper escaped you as your orgasm washed over you, eyes clenching shut as you bit down hard on Tony’s neck, his low grunts sounding in your ear as your pussy clenched around his cock, his hand abandoning your overstimulated clit to cup the back of your neck, forcing your head back so he could lock eyes with your bleary ones, the sight of you so thoroughly fucked out triggering his own release, his cum painting your walls as he gritted his teeth to silence his would-be growls.

You two reminded entwined as you both caught your breath, Tony nuzzling his face against yours, the tip of his noise grazing over your skin as a small grin played at your lips. You jumped when you heard Rhodey yelling after you both from the house, eyes widening in fear before you realised he was coming no closer.

“Ay, you two! You ever plan on coming back inside?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re coming in. Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Tony called back, giving you one last lazy kiss before he slowly pulled out of you, tucking himself back into his pants in the water as you adjusted your panties and straightened out your soaked dress as best you could.

Once you were out of the water, you picked up a discarded glass of wine and threw it in pool, the dark red staining the water as Tony watched with a puzzled expression. You arched a brow at him in return, as if it was obvious why you did such a thing, but realisation never seemed to dawn for him.

“It’s to stop anyone going back in there,” You explained but Tony’s features were still twisted in confusion. “Tony, we literally just fucked in there. You can’t seriously tell me you’d be ok letting people go back in knowing what we did?”

He remained silent for a second too long and you gaped at him it became clearer that Tony couldn’t care less if his friends swam in the very same pool you had both fucked in before it even had a chance to be cleaned.

“No, of course not,” He replied unconvincingly, his expression far too innocent to be genuine and you swatted at his arm in retaliation, his faux purity melting to reveal a cheeky smirk as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his body as you walked back inside.

Everyone cheered as Tony reappeared to his own party, talking about how it was just in time for cake, towels wrapped around their bodies as they moved about to prepare Tony’s birthday cake. You thanked Nat as she handed you a towel, the glint in her eye letting you know that she knew you and Tony hadn’t been out there swimming, and you ducked your head to avoid her gaze, focusing instead on drying off your hair as much as you could before wrapping the fluffy towel around your body.

The lights dimmed as Sam carried out Tony’s cake from the kitchen, a multitude of candles light on it and you made your way over to stand next to Tony, his friends crowding round him in a circle as everyone sang Happy Birthday. Your singing, however, was cut off with a snort as Sam placed the cake down on the table in front of you, laughter bubbling from within you as you saw how it was decorated – in icing was none other than the birthday boy himself, in nothing but his underwear as he ran from the paparazzi, hands covering his modesty and the widest eyed expression you had ever seen, it was borderline cartoonish. You were certain you recognised the photo being spread over every nosey magazine and blog there was a few years back.

Tony shot you a mischievous wink before he bent to blow the candles out, everyone clapping as he did before Steve moved removed the candles and cut the cake into enough pieces for everyone. You and Nat moved to the side to allow them to get on with it, narrowing your eyes when Tony refused to move from where the cake was being carved up and you knew he was up to something, the way he shifted his weight from the front to the back of his feet, rocking with anticipation giving him away.

Your suspicions were soon confirmed when Tony grabbed a specific piece of the cake and leaped over the couch to hand it to you with a wide grin, unable to contain his glee. Looking down you understood exactly why he seemed so damn proud of himself, the slice of cake he had handed you was the one that had his iced crotch on it and you sent him a pointed look in return that only caused his laughter to escalate.

It was hard to believe that this man was turning 40 tomorrow.

You stared him dead in the eye as you wiped your finger through the icing, sucking the digit clean as lewdly as you could in present company, making as much of a show out of it as possible and the way Tony’s smile dropped to something more sultry, the way his eyes darkened, glinting with something that boarded on dangerous, let you know that it was indeed working. Tony shifted to sit next to you, tucking you under his arm as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you shared the piece of cake between you.

The night soon drew to an end, Tony’s guests retiring to their respective guest rooms as you followed Tony to the master bedroom, your hand clasped firmly in his as he pulled you through the door. Tony pressed a soft kiss to your lips before stripping out of his ruined clothes and heading towards the shower in the en-suit; normally, you wouldn’t hesitate in joining him but today you had a surprise to ready for him, one that would require some privacy.

Tony emerged from the bathroom, steam silhouetting him in the doorway as he stood there wrapped in only a fresh towel, the fresh scent of his shampoo reaching you as your eyes followed a stray bead of water that ran down the soft skin of his stomach, disappearing as it reached the white cotton that hung low on his hips.

You snapped yourself out of your stupor, rolling your eyes at the smug expression painted on his features, holding your ‘surprise’ behind your back as you slinked past him and into the bathroom, closing the door and locking it behind you.

The hot water was relaxing against your chilled skin, washing away the chemical scent of the chlorine as you tipped your head back under the soothing spray. Stepping out of the shower, you dried your hair that remained glossy to the touch thanks to the hair mask you used and massaged the rich moisturiser into your body, your skin feeling as silky as the garments that sat to the side.

The babydoll was a stunning maroon colour, the silk bra cupped your breasts perfectly, adorned with a deep gold lace along the cups, the sheer skirt stopping at the top of your thighs giving a perfect glimpse of the matching thong underneath. The set had been a gift from Natasha, although she claimed it was a gift for Tony when she had handed it to you last week and you could see why, he was definitely going to get some enjoyment out of it, that was for sure.

You spritzed perfume across your neck and over the tops of your breasts, dabbing some on your inner wrists and thighs as you relished in the seductive floral scent. Casting one last look in the mirror you tied the silk robe around your waist, the fabric ending only a little further than the babydoll did, and walked out to greet Tony.

The man in question was lounging across the bed in nothing but a pair of boxers, idly flicking through a magazine without paying attention to a single word on the page, his head rolling towards you at the sound of the door opening before he snapped up where he sat, crawling forward on the bed as he gapped at you, eyes hungrily devouring your form as you sashayed towards him, stopping at the edge of the bed as he kneeled before you.

His hands caressed your hips, thumbs stroking over the silk that encased you like wrapping paper around a present, eyes taking in every inch of you, unable to focus on one spot for too long. He tugged the bow that held the robe together free, groaning as you were revealed to his hungry gaze, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he pushed the robe off your shoulders and let it pool to the floor without a care.

Tony sucked in a harsh breath at the sight of you, eyes darkening as they roamed over your lace covered breasts and down to the sheer skirt that flared from them, the outline of your thong visible through the material, a throaty groan erupting from deep within his chest as he pawed at you, pulling you closer to him as he buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply as the smell of your perfume washed over him.

“Natasha?” He nodded towards your attire in question and you nodded in affirmation, letting out a startled yelp as his hands quickly grabbed the back of your thighs and threw you down onto the bed. “Remind me to thank her.”

You giggled as Tony littered the side of your neck with kisses before capturing your lips with his, tongue claiming your own as he rolled his hips against yours, hardening length pressed against your barely covered core. His hands moved to seize your breasts through your bra, back arching at the touch as he yanked the cups down, mouth attaching to one of your hardened nipples as you carded your fingers through his hair.

Tony released your nipple with a lewd pop, shooting you a filthy smirk as he slithered down your body, settling between your legs as he pushed the sheer skirt of your babydoll up, taking the edge of your thong between his teeth and slowly tugging it down your legs as you panted wantonly beneath him.

Before he could so much as kiss your thigh, the most sinful thought crossed your mind, lips curling up at the corners as you quickly sat up, ignoring Tony’s bewilderment as you pushed him onto his back, quickly tugging his boxers off before settling yourself over him.

Tony let out a rasping moan as you straddled his face, glistening lips on full display to his hungry gaze as you pumped his length in your hand. His hand came down on your ass, biting his lip as he watched your flesh bounce at the force before he spread your cheeks apart to give him full access to your pussy.

“God, you’re such a dirty little girl, huh?”

You didn’t answer, instead shooting him a wink over your shoulder before your tongue darted out to lick the length of his pulsing shaft, wrapping your lips around his swollen tip, bobbing your head languidly as your hand gripped his base.

Tony’s head fell back against the pillow with a pleasured howl and you wiggled your hips in his hands to remind him of your own need which he quickly rectified, burying his face between your thighs as he lapped at your cunt like a man starved. Your moan was muffled by his cock still heavy on your tongue, the vibrations causing Tony to buck upwards as he pulled you even harder against his mouth, lips locking around your throbbing bud as he sucked hard. Every action he took against you was repaid in kind, the both of you competing to provide the other with the utmost amount of pleasure.

Your free hand moved to fondle his balls as he slipped two digits into your slick channel, curling them against your g-spot as you jerked at the action, his hand swatting your ass in a warning to keep still. The smell of sex was heavy in the air, the silence of the room punctured by your stifled grunts and groans and the wet sounds of your mouths working against the others sex as you propelled each other to fruition.

Just as your eyes began to roll back into your head, toes began to curl as you could taste your orgasm on the tip of your tongue, Tony pulled away from you, hand tangling in your hair as he pulled you off his twitching length and you whined at the loss, of his mouth on your pussy or his cock in yours, you couldn’t be sure.

Before you could even think to question it, Tony pulled you onto his lap with your thighs straddling his own, one hand gripping the base of his cock to stave of his impending orgasm as the other settled on your hip, guiding you into position over his swollen head.

“Fuck,” He hissed through gritted teeth, “Ride Daddy, babygirl. Let me see you.”

Needing no further encouragement, you lined yourself up with his cock, his head pressing against your sopping opening before you slowly sank down on him, velvet walls wrapping around him with a vice-like grip until your pelvis was firmly pressed against his. His hands moved up your hips, bunching the material of your babydoll in his hands before he pulled it up and over your head, tossing it aside with a concern, cupping your free breasts in his hands as your head fell back with a sigh.

You placed your hands on his thighs to steady yourself, giving an experimental roll of your hips and grinning on the sound Tony emitted, his fingers pinching your erect nipples as he gave a shallow thrust up into you.

“Baby, don’t tease,” he warned.

So you didn’t. You rolled your hips like a wave, making the head of his cock brush against that spot with every movement, this position making you feel every solid inch of him inside of you. You began to bounce harder, faster, your clit grinding against the patch of his hair at the base of his cock as you swirled your hips on top of his, biting your lip to stifle the sounds of your bliss.

You gasped as Tony spanked you, hardened eyes locked on your own. “Don’t,” He growled, voice dripping with menace, “Let me hear you.”

“But-”

“Don’t care, let ‘em here you. Let ‘em here how fuckin’good you ride Daddy’s cock.”

You let your mouth fall open, moans and cries and praises falling from your lips unchecked as you fell forward, one hand on Tony’s chest and the other gripping the headboard so hard you feared the wood would splinter under your touch. Your back arched pulling him deeper inside you, the tightness in your core building and building until it finally snapped, euphoria flooding your every nerve, eyes clenched shut as your body worked through your orgasm, voice hoarse from the scream that tore from your throat.

Tony groaned at the feeling of your cunt fluttering around his cock, your slick leaking out of you and dripping down his balls, quickly pinning your hands behind your back, his calloused hand wrapped around your wrists as he widened his thighs and planted his feet on the bed as he began to wildly thrust into you, chasing his own end as you collapsed onto his chest.

The bed squeaked beneath you in protest, headboard knocking against the wall obnoxiously loud as moans spilled from your lips unabashedly, your cunt making a vulgar squelch every time Tony thrust into you and you had no doubt that everyone in the house could hear the two of you.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good. Perfect little cunt wrapped so - fuckin’ - tight around me. Fuckfuckfuck, baby-” Tony cut himself off with a fierce groan, thrusts losing their rhythm as he sloppily bucked into you, his cum filling you as his cock throbbed with his release, triggering another minute orgasm that sent a small shiver through you.

You both lay there spent as you came down from your highs, slight aftershocks making your pussy quiver around Tony’s softening cock before you fell to the side, the ache in your thighs beginning to make itself known to you, sweat-slicked skin and cum-filled pussy reminding you that you’d need to take another shower before you allowed yourself to drift off to sleep. Once you could actually stand on your legs again, of course.

Tony wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you towards him as he pressed his lips to your bit-swollen ones in a languid kiss before scattering kisses across your cheeks and nose causing you to giggle softly, the corner of his lips curling up in a tender smile.

“You ok?” He asked, fingers stroking up and down your back as you hummed in affirmation. “Want another shower?”

“Yeah.”

“Shame, you look good full of my cum.”

“Tony!” You moved to sit up, slapping his arm lightly in reprimand as you stretched out your muscles.

“What? You can fuck me like a pornstar whose rents due but I say you look good afterwards and suddenly you turn into some blushing virgin at a titty bar?”

You avoided his gaze as you gathered some actual pyjamas, feeling the heat burning your cheeks as Tony’s chuckle sounded from the bed before he stood up, crossing the room to wrap his arms around you from behind, pressing kisses into your neck as he held you to him.

“You’re precious, you know that?” He murmured, voice like velvet and you turned your head to look at him, his earnest expression causing your face to flush even hotter. You cleared your throat, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before taking his head in yours and pulling him towards the bathroom so you could share a hot shower before finally tucking yourself into bed.

There was no round two – well technically, three – in the shower, you were both far too exhausted after such a long evening and even if you weren’t, you doubted your body would be able to cooperate. Instead you exchange soft kisses and even softer touches, his body wrapped around yours as you cleaned each other of your combined releases.

The bed was a welcome comfort, tired muscles practically melting between the cool sheets and pliant mattress. You let out a content moan when Tony pulled you to him, tucking your head under his chin as you tangled your legs with his, the feeling of him curling a loose strand of your hair around his finger lulling you to sleep as your arms tightened around his torso.

“Night Tony.”

You fell asleep before he could answer, the soft puffs of your breath against his chest soothing to the man beneath you who took a strange sense of pleasure in watching you sleep. It was serene. A gift of peace for a part of his soul he didn’t even know needed it. He watched the way your eyes twitched beneath closed lids as you dreamed, the way you snuggled closer to him, the way your mouth parted just slightly as faint snores escaped you.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, careful not to wake you, arms wrapping firmly around your waist as he settled into the bed.

“Night babygirl.”

In a rare occurrence, you woke before Tony, the man still sleeping soundly beside you, arm tossed over your waist and you slowly turned over to face him, careful not wake him. You cast your eyes about his features, his face void of cocky smirk or furrowed brows, for once he looked simply peaceful, like there wasn’t a thousand racing thoughts plaguing his mind. Reaching out, you lightly traced your finger across his cheek, following the slant of his face down to his lips, a small gasp escaping you as his lips puckered to press a kiss to your fingertip, bambi eyes opening to meet your own as his lips stretched in a sleepy grin.

“Good Morning, babygirl,” Tony said on a groan as he stretched his stiff muscles.

“Good Morning,” You pressed a tender kiss to his lips, voice scarcely higher than a whisper, “Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you.”

You remined embraced together, sharing soothing touches and easy kisses between morning words of adoration. Your eyes caught sight of the small giftbox across the way, bright red ribbon tied around the black leather, for once a gift to Tony, not from him but you were still uncertain if you should actually give it to him or not.

You had debated for weeks if such a gift would be a good idea or not; it would either offer him closure you weren’t even sure he knew he needed or it, or it would reopen old wounds and potentially ruin his birthday. In the end you decided to take the risk, the benefits outweighing the possible damages but as it came time to actually present it to Tony, that nagging feeling of doubt came rushing back.

Hesitantly, you stood from the bed and made your way over to the present that was hidden away in your overnight bag, a peek of the red velvet bow visible from the open case. You kept the present concealed behind your back as you tentatively walked back to the bed, sitting beside Tony who was watching you with an arched brow, intrigued by what you were up to as he mirrored your position on the bed, sitting cross legged opposite you.

“Ok here’s the thing, if you don’t like this, you have to tell me. Cause if you don’t like it, you’re really not going to like it, ya know? And I don’t want to upset you or anything, especially on your birthday, and I can always take it back, no problem – honest. I won’t be offended in the slightest cause I knew it was a risk and I really don’t know why I thought this was a good idea and maybe I-”

“Babe.” Tony cut you off and you drew in a deep breath. How fast were you talking? “Just – breathe, alright? I’m sure I’ll love it.”

You still worried at your bottom lip, apprehension still etched on your features as you placed the box in Tony’s awaiting hands, heart racing as he pulled the ribbon off and opened the lid, eyes watching every slight movement of his face like a hawk as you searched for any signs that he hated what was inside.

Gingerly, Tony lifted the watch out of its box, thumb tracing over the face, intricate metal work that you’d had customised to look like the arc reactor he was working on, your breath hitching in your throat as he turned the watch over in his hands, expression falling as he saw what was on the other side, your heart hammering in your chest as you waited for him to say something.

His eyes kept moving over the engraved letters over and over again, reading and rereading the words as his heart stuttered in his chest, throat drying as his body struggled to process the sheer onslaught of emotions he was feeling.

Tony Stark: A Man of Iron with a Heart of Gold.

The tension in your muscles built as Tony tucked the watch back into its box and placed it on the bedside table, bracing yourself for the inevitable storm as the silence stretched between the two of you. You didn’t know how he was going to react: Red-faced yelling? Sullen silence? Would he ask you to leave? Tell you that you were crossing a line? You had no idea but you did know that you wanted him to do something, the waiting was like torture and you wanted nothing more than for it to end.

“Tony?” Your voice was weak, the desire to reach for him growing with every second but you weren’t sure if you should, if your touch would be welcome.

“C’mere,” He rasped, swallowing against the lump in his throat as he held out a hand for you to take, pulling you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist.

His eyes were wide, brighter than you’d ever seen, unshed tears making them sparkle in the light of the morning sun, the corner of his lips curling up in a shy smile. Shy. That was definitely new. His fingers reached out to brush your hair away from your face before cradling your cheek in his hand, thumb brushing over your cheekbone like you were fine art – something to be marvelled at.

He brought your lips down to his, his touch new and familiar all rolled into one. It lacked his usual heated passion, it wasn’t playful nor cocky – it was different, the same lips you loved to kiss but the feeling behind it totally unfamiliar. There was a reverence behind it, the way his lips moulded against yours, the way his hands slid up your chest and freed you from your vest, the way he rolled your body beneath his own and stared down at you with such awe.

Clothes were shed falling to the floor without a second thought, hardened length stretching your innermost parts as he rolled his hips into yours, your chest pressed against his, his hands roaming your back as your own wrapped around his neck, the both of you needing to feel as much as you could. It was far from fucking as you could get, it wasn’t even sex, it was simply about the connection – the two of you as one single being, his soul pouring into yours, leaving his own personal brand on your most sacred part and vice versa.

There was no rush, no hasty movements as you tried to propel the other into climax, there was only the feeling of him rolling his hips into your own, hardly even drawing out of you as he moved, his forehead resting against your own, eyes locked on yours as your soft breaths filled the silence between you.

One hand moved from your back, grabbing on of your own and lacing your fingers with his, pinning it the bed beside your head as he continued his steady rhythm, tears pricking your eyes, threatening to spill because it was too much: his heavy gaze, his touch, his cock, his heartbeat sounding so steadily against your own. And yet, you’d never felt anything so pure before, you wanted to drown in it, to let this moment consume you whole until he was all you could ever feel.

You came together, names falling from each other’s lips like a chanted prayer. A promise. For what you weren’t sure, but it didn’t matter, in that moment you’d have promised him the whole world. He didn’t pull away from you, holding you tight against his body as he settled onto his back, cock still buried within you as he pressed gentles kisses to your lips, fingers dancing along the bare expanse of your back.

He pulled away with a content sigh; “Thank you,” His voice was thick with emotion, deep baritone barely making your ears.

You knew he meant for more than the watch, because it was more than a watch, it was a way for him to move on from something that had been weighing him down for far too long. You said nothing, instead slanting your mouth over his own, fingers tangled in the short strands of his hair.

“I love it.”

This time it was he who watched your expression with bated breath. You searched his eyes for the hidden meaning, you think that was the first time he had ever used the word love for anything before.

He loved it. He loved it. He loved it. He loved you.

Oh.

It wasn’t time – if there would ever be a time - for either of you to admit to those words and say them out loud. But still, the sentiment was there and he was waiting for you to say something.

“I’m glad Tony, I hoped you would.”

The two of you shared small smiles, near conspiratorial in nature, like a secret had been passed between the two of you that only you knew of.

“C’mon, we aren’t the only ones in this house and if we don’t go downstairs soon they’re only going to barge in this room and demand we join them.”

The two of you showered and dressed for the day ahead, heading downstairs and seeing everyone already up, everyone wishing him a happy birthday as he walked into the kitchen. You heard someone complement him on his new watch, his face beaming with pride when he revealed it was from you, wrapping an arm around you and pressing a kiss to the side of your temple as you all sat around the table for breakfast.

“So,” Sam drawled out, eyeing the two of you over the rim of his coffee mug, “Did you two have fun last night?”

You choked on your juice, heat flooding your face as you stared wide eyed at Sam who was grinning like a Cheshire Cat, mortification growing as everyone around the table shared the same knowing look.

“Sounds like they had fun this morning too,” Nat quipped, not looking up from her breakfast as she bit into her pancakes.

That was the final straw, laughter filling the room as you willed the floor to swallow you whole. Tony’s hand came to rest on your thigh under the table, squeezing it reassuringly as he shot you an adoring smile and suddenly, nothing else mattered anymore.

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