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wolf-gutz · 2 years

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Max/TransM!Reader Chapter 1

An - sorry for dissapearing again lol, i got really depressed and didnt feel like writing, but ive hotten back into a bit !! heres a four chapter Max fic because literaly no one ever writes about him, cmon people 😭

Cw: smutty vibes but no actual smut, violence and slight mention of gore

About - basically you end up joining the cult, yes, i was extremly lazy with making up a reason lmao. it follows the movie except *spoiler* Max doesnt die. Max is horn knee the whole time

Words - 1182

continue under the cut <3

Bee came in with the shots, handing one to me and one to Cole. she was our, quote unquote babysitter, even though i didn’t need one since I was almost 17. Bee was a close friend of mine though, so I didn’t mind it much.

It smelt like she had mixed vodka with Baileys, which I hated both, so when she left to go pour herself a shot, we both hurriedly dumped ours out into the nearby plant.

“Oh, you did it without me” She pouted, before taking her own. I yawned and stretched, and Cole yawned as well, for whatever reason.

“Alright Coley, time for bed, I let you stay u an extra half hour, so shoo now. Im probably gonna go to sleep soon anyways Y/N.” She said, putting her hands on his shoulders and turning him around towards the stairs.

“Thats fine, Im tired as fuck anyways.”

Bee smiled, sitting herself over on the couch as me and Cole headed upstairs.

Truthfully, I wasnt actually that tired, but I just wanted some space, it had been quite chaotic, and sometimes a guy just needs time alone to read some horny fanfiction.

A couple hours in, I heard some commotion downstairs, then Cole softly knocking on my door. I opened up it and was about to ask what he was still doing awake, before he shushed me, grabbing my hand.

He pulled me down to his level and put one finger over my lips, whispering to me.

“Bee has people over, like, a lot. Theyre all playing truth or dare and stuff, wanna cpme watch?” He said, giggling to himself.

I nodded, going along with it just out of boredom, and we sat at the top of the stair case, watching them.

There was five other people sitting in a circle with Bee.

Max, a buff jock who I had a huge crysh on for the past two years, though I doubted he was into guys.

Allison, the head cheerleader. I didn’t know much about her other than she had a kind of bimbo, bratty personality.

Jon, who I had only talked to a few times. He was funny and pretty chill, the kind of guy to let you smoke his weed occasionally without paying him back.

Sonya, who was a sort of gothic crazy chick. I heard that she went mad and almost killed one of her exs, but honestly I could care less since she was nice to me and SUPER pretty.

And Samuel. Samuel was a surprise, since he wasnt exactly the type of person Bee would hang around. He was a huge nerd, and anxious as all hell, but he seemed to be having fun.

The bottle landed on Bee who chose dare, and Max dared her too make out with everyone in the circle.

She gave a simple kiss too Max, which I wouldve done much more in her situation but anyways. She full ass made out with Allison, licked Johns face leving him upset, and gave a kiss on Sonyas forehead, Sonya levaing a kiss on hers.

Then it came time for Samuel, but he seemed extremly nervous. When Bee crawled over to him, he stood up, Bee following suit, and they seemed to all try and convince him it would be fine, though it was hard to hear what they were saying.

He eventually gave in, the two embracing in a kiss. Bee pulled back, and Samuel looked at her with a slight smile, before she pulled out two daggers, planting them right into his skull.

What the fuck.

He let out a bloodcurdling scream, and something about a porpoise, as Bee stuck the daggers in further, stuttered chokes escaping Samuels mouth.

Blood slowly trickled down from the wounds, as the others gathered around Bee with goblet looking cups.

“Is everyone ready?” I heard her ask, and all the members excitedly said yes, tilting their cups towards his head.

Bee yanked the daggers out, and the blood started to flow into Sonya, Max, and Allisons cups, as Bee grabbed her own. John wasn’t getting any, and said something that seemed like he was complaining about it, before getting sprayed in the face and soaked in Samuels blood.

Jon made a grossed out sound, desparatley trying to wipe the blood from his face, Bee saying something back to him.

I left after that, I had seen enough. I tried to tell Cole to run as well, but he wouldn’t move, so I left him behind. Bee wouldnt hurt him, and I felt like I was going to puke.

After a bit, I heard Coles door shut, and only a few minutes later footsteps. They were going up the steps, most likely to one of our rooms.

“-were gonna do with Cole, but what about his brother?” I heard Max ask. He sounded right outside of my door.

“He should be knocked out, but you can do whatever if you like. Just don’t hurt him.” Bee said, walking away.

“I would never.” Max laughed, and my door started opening. I rushed to put my headphones on, and pulled out my phone, pretending I was on it.

I gave Max a shocked look when he came into my room, and he looked surprised.

“Uh, sorry, thought you were asleep, Bee just wanted me to grab something.” He said, smiling, his demeanor immediately switching.

“Uh? Your Max, right? Why are you shirtless?” My chest felt tight, but in a kind of good way.

“A friend needed it. And yeah, your Y/N, right?” He chuckled, and I nodded.

He sat down on my bed and leaned towards my face.

“Your a lot cuter up close y’know.”

I kind of just froze, I knew he was flirty wuth everyone, but it still made me feel nice.

“Damn, you shouldve joined us earlier when we were playin truth or dare, you would’ve made things funnnn.” He laughed.

“Ah- us?” I asked.

“Yeah, Bees just got some friends over Y’know, you seem like the kind of person we could hang out with. You got something that you want so badly, you’d kill for it?” He said, leaning in closer, his hand on one of my thighs.

“Uh, weird question but… yeah, kind of.” I said. I had a dream to became a world famous actor, but I wasnt exactly the best at acting, and I couldn't seem to get any teaching for the life of me, since my parents found it stupid. I would kill for that honestly. I'd kill for a lot. I was kind of selfish, but I didn't mind.

“What if I said, you could do that, with us? I’d have to ask Bee, but I think she'd be down. Plus, Id want a cute face on our side like yours. Allisons hot, but she never shuts her mouth, and Sonyas a psycho bitch, but you on the other hand….”

“Uh me? Haha.” I nervously laughed, and he suddenly pulled back.

“So what do you say?”

“S… sure I'll join I guess, I have nothing better to do.”

“Cool, cool. Are you a virgin?”

“UHM. A little straight forward haha, but yeah.”

“Good, good. Were collecting Coles blood, but I guess we could use yours if anything goea wrong” He laughed at his own joke.

“Haha…. maybe.” I laughed nervously.

we sat in silence for a second, me pretending to be busy, as Max eyed me up and down.

“Hey, Im already shirtless and evereyone else is busy, why dont we?” Max asked, leaning back towards me.

“I- i uh…. why don't we what?

“Listen, I know you got a little crush on me and your cute enough.”

“I’m just surprised your uh… into me….” I stuttered a little, turning off my phone and setting it to the side, finally getting what he meant.

“Your a cute nerd, who wouldn’t?” He grabbed my fave harshly, pulling it towards his.

I made a soft whimpering sound, closing my legs, trying not to stare down at his abs.

“Ahh, th- thanks.” I barely finished my sentence before he pulled me into a kiss, grabbing at the back of my head.

He dragged one of his legs over till he was on top of me, still aggressivley making out, soft moans escaping from both of us. He reached his other hand underneath my shirt and grabbed my back, holding me tight to him.

I went for it and ran one of my hands across his abs, pulling appart from the kiss for a second so I could breath.

As i panted, he tilted my head, licking up my neck before giving me a soft bite and sucking on my neck, leaving a huge hickey, before leaving another, and another, and another. Moans escaped my lips as I desparatley tried to hide how horny this was making me, but when I looked down I could see how hard he was through his pants.

I decided to take the chance and slid my hands towards his pants, putting my fingers around the waistband before sliding them over to the button of his pants, slowly undoing it as he continued to mark on my neck.

#max the babysitter #max #the babysitter #horror movie #the babysitter max #slasher #horror #movie #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #max fanfiction #fanfic author #male reader #trans masc reader #trans reader #trans reader smut

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riley-the-pan-nonbinary · 2 years

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My Brothers Enemy. Part 32

Draco Malfoy x GN!Potter!Reader

Series Masterlist

Part 1

Previous Part

Next Chapter

[A/N: if you would like to be added to the taglist for this story let me know and i will add you,

also a reminder that i have posted this fanfiction on Wattpad and ao3, and it should not be reposted or translated anywhere}

would you like me to start putting a word count onto all chapters?

and again any suggestion will be welcomed toward a name for Y/Ns owl up until the end of August 2022]

---

“Harry and Y/N Potter! Such an honour it is!” We both rush to enter the room and silently close the door, as to avoid getting in trouble.

“Who are you?” Harry is not hesitant to ask. However, I, being the more abrasive twin ask a genuine, possibly offensive question.

“And what are you?” Harry gives me a death stare; I give him a look that says ‘what? I am curious.’ We both turn to the thing jumping from bed to bed. It seemed to be a familiar creature. There was always a possibility I had seen an image of one while reading a book at Hogwarts.

“Dobby, Dobby the house elf.” It suddenly clicks in my head; I had heard about the house elves at the school. They are like slaves, which had seemed wrong to me since I was made aware of their presence at school. Even if the elves 'like' it, they should be given more rights and be given some form of compensation for their hard work.

“Not to be to be rude or anything, but this isn’t a great time for me to have a house elf in our bedroom,” I say as I try to figure out a way to get him out of our room without anyone noticing he was even here, and without alerting the muggles of the street that there is a magical creature. Even though, they would most likely deem Dobby to be a monster.

“Oh, yes! Dobby understands! It’s just that, Dobby has come to tell you- it is difficult- Dobby wonders where to begin?” Possibly, he could begin by shutting up and leaving, I don’t want to be in any more trouble. However, Harry seems to disagree with how I feel about getting him out.

“Why don’t you sit down?” This seems to be the wrong thing for my twin to ask, as the house elf starts to cry, seemingly offending him.

“Sit down? Sit down?” Harry and I rush to quiet him, harry begins to shush him.

“He didn’t mean to offend you, please quiet down” Dobby seemingly stops crying once I said ‘offend’ standing up straight and sniffling.

“Offend Dobby? Mr. Potter did not offend Dobby, Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard, like an equal.” At this I feel a wave of sadness, I can relate to him. Harry and I had never been treated as equals before we went to the wizarding worlds.

“You can’t have net many decent wizards then,” Harry says calmly, I assume he feels the same feelings of empathy toward the house elf as I do.

“No, I haven’t. That was an awful thing to say.” Dobby seems to regret what he says as he starts to hit his head on our dresser repeatedly, making enough noise that it must have made the guests downstairs curious. He continues to bang his head as he repeats “Bad Dobby!” I rush to pull him away from any item he can hit his head on as Harry begs him to stop. When he eventually convinces Dobby to stop, he checks on him, to see if he is ok.

Dobby’s response pushes my belief of house elves not being treated well even further. “Dobby had to punish himself, sir. Dobby almost spoke ill of his family” he continues to make noise; it is almost as though the house elf wants to get us into trouble. Harry and I attempt to quiet him, to calm him, anything to make it seem there is no one upstairs.

In an effort to calm him, I ask questions, “Your family?” it may be a simple question, but it stops him from making constant noise for a moment. He seems to think before responding, it takes him a while before he jumps up to gain attention, almost to have a dramatic flair.

“The wizard family Dobby serves. Dobby is bound to serve one family forever. If they knew Dobby was here...” during his pause Dobby shivers. It makes me think about how cruel his ‘family’, I don’t think they deserve to be called family if they are that cruel. “But Dobby had to come. Dobby has to protect Harry and Y/N Potter. To warn them. The Potter’s must not go back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year. There is a plot, a plot to make most terrible things happen.”

Harry and I are both shocked, however, I am not overly surprised. People have already attempted to kill us before, why wouldn’t they try again? We both look at each other for answers Harry is more confused than I am.

“What terrible things? Who’s plotting them?” Harry asks, and Dobby shakes his head, muttering about how he can’t say. Undoubtedly, he is scared to disobey his ‘family’. When we say it's ok and we understand, he begins to punish himself. In other words, he hits himself in the head with a lamp this time. I thought I had already moved all harmful items from his reach but apparently, I had not. I wince, hearing my uncle’s steps about to ascend the stairs.

Harry grabs the lamp from Dobby as I seize him and shove him in the closet just in time for Vernon to open the door. I lean against the door as I struggle to not look suspicious.

“What the devil are you doing up here?!” as we try to explain, Dobby attempts to open the door, I push it closed as Harry backs up next to me, Vernon being as self-absorbed as he is continues screeching at us, “You've just ruined the punchline of my Japanese golfer joke.” Harry and I mutter apologies, as I am forced to close the door again, as Dobby is still trying to escape. Thankfully, Vernon is not aware of the magical creature we have stashed in there “One more sound, and you'll wish you'd never been born, boy. And fix that door.”

Harry and I mumble our small words he doesn’t care to hear, as he walks out.

“See why we've got to go back? We don't belong here; We belong in your world, at Hogwarts. It's the only place we've got friends.” Throughout Harry’s entire speech Dobby seems more interested in the sock that had ended up on his head during his time in the cupboard.

He has an unexpected comeback to Harry. “Friends who don't even write to the Potter twins?” I suddenly perk up, had he been watching us, how could he possibly know this?

“Well, I expect they've been--hang on, how do you know our friends haven't been writing us?!” This is something that Harry has been sensitive over, he cared for his friends and had assumed they would have written at least once.

“The Potter’s mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby hoped if the Potter’s thought their friends had forgotten them, they might not want to go back to school” he pulled out two large stacks of letters, from where, I don’t know, it may have been hidden by magic. At this point, even I am seething, aware there is a possibility Carter or Draco had written to me, and not being able to know what had been said hurt me, I had told them I may not be able to respond, but it still hurt.

I wondered how Harry felt, he had not suggested the same thing to his friends. However, it wasn’t long until he is lurching forward to grab the letter, and I follow in suit. Soon enough Dobby had vanished, and we were in the living room. Standing in front of a very confused family and an incredibly angry uncle.

I knew that this would be the final straw for him. Harry and I may never see the light of day from outside our windows again.

---

taglist:

@theanxietyqueen17 @coolbeans32 @hehehehannahthings @crypticcandi

#draco #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #Harry Potter #harry potter x sibling!reader #harry potter and the chamber of secrets #h

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gaydeadpoets · 1 year

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Buckle up people because this is a wild ride

This happened a few months ago now but it has just occurred to me that the vast majority of earth is unaware of this momentous occasion that happened in my year 11 history class.

So, in a friend group, there is an inside joke that one kid, let's call him Matty, has a huge penis- like they all joke that his penis is literally miles long and it slithers into his friends room at night to do cheeky things, Ik its pretty wild but it is funny

So, Anna and Hailey all sit with Matty on the back row. They joke that Matty and Hailey have a secret affair a lot and Anna decided to write a super smutty fanfiction about them on paper in history. There was a young supply teacher that lesson who was chill so he didnt mind no one was doing work

Anna wrote a whole A5 side of unholy smut (she doesn't read or write fanfiction thus making it 100× funnier)

So, at the back it was being read out and everyone was giggling and laughing, the volume was going up and people kept shushing eachother so the supply wouldn't notice

Spoiler alert- he did

He then asked what we were all looking and laughing at. He said one of us needed to read it aloud- which fuck no thats humiliating (as in we are not reading smut aloud in history but he doesnt know its smut)

The supply is genuinely intrigued by what is gojng on and is smiling and laughing while trying to figure out

He keeps telling us to read it and is basically begging us to tell him what it is- now, we are not going to say that anna just write smut about matty and hailey.

By now, this kid we'll call Kate has the paper somehow and hasnt read it yet. The supply keeps egging her on to read it aloud while everyone on the back 2 rows is literally yelling and half crying with laughter and screamjng NO DO NOT READ THAT SERIOUSLY DONT READ IT JUST DONT

Does Kate listen? No. No she does not. She reads out the title "wanky wednesday" then carries on to the first line which was something like "it slithered up to the window and tapped on the galss" (refering to a huge penis).

At this point, Hailey had literally- LITERALLY- blacked out at the back (she does that sometimes its nothing terrible). We were all yelling for Kate to stop and also losing our shit laughing.

Then. Our knight in shining armour. We'll call them Alex. Alex VAULTS over their table, yes LEAPS over the fucking table like a parkour master and yanks the incriminating paper from Kates hands.

Alex climbs back over their table while Kate is trying to grab them and the paper then Alex gives it to Anna who promptly hides it.

Throughout the lesson the supply keeps coming to the back and asking to see it and what it said because he is intrigued by our reaction.

Also, I think Anna ate it. That might have been another time but I think she ate at least some of the paper.

So that was an epic lesson, so stressful and potentially humiliating for some but it was so fucking funny

#school #history #funny #story

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saionofvalflame · 2 years

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❀ ending chapter, beginning route | + chrom, shigure.

When he wakes up on September 1st, he sits bolt upright in his bed as he takes in his unfamiliar surroundings... except they’re not so unfamiliar after all. Like waking from a dream, the details unfog and become clear, and Saias gasps aloud with joy to find himself in his academy dorm room once more. The fictional world from the past couple of months no longer holds him: he and everyone else has been freed, they must have been! The missions were successful, then; he read every single one of the six fanfictions’ final chapters, his anticipation and excitement mounting as team after team finished their boss battle... except those in Edge of Eden, who managed to defeat Melanthios even though two other enemies remained. He’d worried about the fates of everyone in the books upon finding this out, but it seems trouncing the fallen deific being was enough to secure their objective.

Strange that there was no sign of Rion; then again, Saias hopes he won’t see the magenta-haired youth for a very long time.

As he leaves his dorm, he finds Chrom and Shigure chatting in the hall outside (and what a delight to see the light-haired bluenette again! though he seems to have aged between his last stay and now), and he instinctively scans them for injuries. Their battles had been difficult, though Chrom had been rather lucky on his end, while Shigure had managed to hold on at the end by a thread. He’s so very proud of both of them and how well they fought despite their limited equipment and spells.

Funny, isn’t it, how the three of us survived lethal missions by the skin of our teeth with only a couple items available to us. I’d almost call it a rite of passage between the three of us. However, next time, I hope all of us have at least a small arsenal in order to take on whatever our enemies throw at us.

“... and then I must’ve been empowered by something heavenly, because I nearly felled our Melanthios with a single strike! I think the only thing that prevented me from killing him was that strange armor he was wearing, but Kris—you know, Marth’s best friend—he finished him off right after.”

“That’s impressive! I almost ended up dying, but I managed to kill our group’s Melanthios after he killed Uncle Leo... Uncle Leo!” Shigure tears up, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

Saias steps forward. “He’ll be fine, Shigure.” The two bluenette teenagers startle and whirl around, then cry out with relief, and in two seconds he’s buried in a double-sided bear hug, very enthusiastic on Chrom’s part, hesitant but no less gentle on Shigure’s. The redhead chuckles and pulls the two close—oh, how he’s missed them so! It’s just not the same without his friends.

“You’re back... I didn’t know whether the other students that were trapped got out, but you’re really back...” Oh, Chrom. He must be taking all of this particularly hard, what with him being written into the empire only to find out he was on the evil side. Saias shushes him and murmurs that there’s nothing to forgive. Poor thing, knowing him he’ll be blaming himself for a while. Luckily, Saias doesn’t plan on leaving him to wallow in self-deprecation, and there have to be plenty of others willing to help the young Ylissean prince recover.

Shigure shifts and withdraws from the hug, and the priest-in-training takes the pause to look over this older, more mature version of his younger friend. “You said... you said Uncle Leo will be fine? But how... he’s dead.”

The redhead shakes his head with a smile. “Nope, he’s alive. If last time has taught me anything, it’s that everyone will always make it out alive at the end of the month, no matter whether they died during the mission or not.”

Sapphire and golden eyes widen. “Wait, what do you mean, ‘last time?’” Chrom asks. “Did something like this happen before?”

“First time?” Saias quirks a brow, then chuckles. “Yes, it has. Last time we were sent out throughout Fódlan on a mission to uncover more about our mysterious enemies. I was sent to the Sealed Forest... several of us died, and those who died were resurrected as shadows that were forced to fight us. The less said about it, the better.” He winces. Oh, and that reminds me: whatever happened to Theo? I still haven’t seen shell nor tail of that little spider droid since then. “In any case, when we finally won our battles, everyone got out alive, even the ones who died. I know for a fact that your uncle made it out alive with you.”

Shigure frowns. “I don’t recall hearing anything like that from our classmates—in fact, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of that particular mission.”

“Now there’s an interesting phenomenon. When I first came here to Fódlan, I entered the academy in the Pegasus Moon of 1180.”

“Saias, you can’t have entered then.” Chrom furrows his brow in exasperation. “You were here months before me, the Pegasus Moon of 1180 would’ve been during the time you were trapped in the book.”

“Yes,” the Jugdrali mage agrees, “and no. The mission I was on took place during the Lone Moon of 1180—just like this enchanted book mission—but we returned during the Great Tree Moon of 1180. Do you see what happened?”

“Time travel,” Shigure breathes. “Or, no... time reset. That’s so strange, why is it that that happened? Was it a result of your battle with these enemies you mentioned?”

Chrom pales. “You mean to tell me that we might have to do our entire school year all over again?! But wait... you were already in higher-ranked classes than you would’ve been if you had to start the year over... so does that mean everyone remembered and were able to pick up where they left off? Oh Naga, does that mean our enemies remembered?!”

That would explain a lot, actually, such as Chrom’s mission during the Verdant Rain Moon and this latest mission into the tomes. “You know what, I wouldn’t be surprised if they did.”

“I need to see this.” Shigure heads back into his dorm room, and, after trading a bemused shrug with Chrom, Saias follows after the singer. He finds the other teen staring at the calendar on his wall...

... which shows the Great Tree Moon... of 1181.

“Oh.” Saias sways, a bit lightheaded. So time has returned to its natural course, then? “I thought... I thought it was gonna reset again. I think I even hinted at it when I talked about course direction with you, Chrom, said you had all the time in the world.”

“... People are gonna wonder why I’m a year older when I go back home,” Chrom murmurs, looking faint. “That is, if time in Fódlan doesn’t run parallel to time in Ylisse.”

“It does not. I’ve been gone for two years at home and about nine months here,” Shigure says, tone matter-of-fact. The other two Blue Lions give him a quizzical look, at which he offers a sheepish smile. “I’ve lived in a Deeprealm for most of my life; they run much faster than the rest of the world.”

“... Right. I knew that.” Chrom rubs the back of his neck. “Well, looks like we’ll have to make the most of this opportunity. It’s a new day for Fódlan, huh?”

Saias smiles. “It seems so. And if I’m not mistaken—not to break up this little reunion—we all have family and friends we need to go check on and make doubly sure they’re all right, don’t we?”

Both bluenettes nod, then Chrom, as if remembering something, turns to Shigure with his finger in the air. “Your great-uncle’s here. I met him while we were trapped in the book.”

“He is!!” The youth is out the door before the young Ylissean can say anything else, and the redhead chuckles at his friend’s quiet enthusiasm. Bragi, he missed his younger friend... it feels so good to have him back, and that he has the chance to meet Saias’s other closest friend. Speaking of which... the swords-mage turns to the older teen, gaze gentle and kind.

“Chrom... for what it’s worth, I don’t hate you at all for the role you were slipped into and the actions you took because of what you believed. I’m willing to bet your family and friends don’t hate you either, and they’ll welcome you back with open arms if you just have the courage to go to them.” The bluenette nods, eyes fixed on the ground in evident shame. Saias withholds a sigh, then thinks of something else and smirks. “And if it takes me beating that into your thick skull with a heavy tome for the next several months—”

“All right, all right, all right! I get it! No more wallowing in the depths of guilt and misery!” Chrom holds his hands out to keep the other teen away, laughing. “When did you become so violent?”

“Being trapped in a book is boring and stressful. Or, it was on my end.” Saias grins, then wraps his arm around the other boy’s shoulders. “You know you can talk to me about anything and anyone, right?”

After a bit, Chrom nods, slow but understanding. “Yeah. Thanks, Saias.”

“Of course, anytime. Come on, we have plenty of people to check on and make sure—ohmyBragi Sigyn’s gonna be pissed.”

The laugh that answers him make him beam from ear to ear. Worth it.

#✿ drabbles #✿ in character #stalarmonios #ylisseanstar #//did not. think this would go this long and had to put it under a read more X'D #//the boys are chatty! they haven't seen each other in months can you blame them?

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sunshineandaisies · 3 years

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Dirty Paws & Wet Kisses

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Modern AU)

Words: ~3.7k

Warnings: language, floofs and fluff

Note: if you ever read anything written by me that includes dogs, their names will always be kinda extra or related to historical figures (i.e. my dog is actually named Theodore Roosevelt) and I will try my best to make their names increasingly extra with every fic that involves dogs

You’d argue that your four year old sheperd mix was the most well behaved dog in all of New York until your dying breath.

Most days.

During your weekly trips to the park on Sunday afternoons, she would sit at your feet, lounging in the sun as she watched joggers go by and playfully saying hello to anyone - be they human or dog - that stopped by to pet the pretty pup while you read whatever book you’d picked up from the bookstore earlier that week.

Sure, there were a few times that she would whine and stare down any squirrel that strayed too close to her, but she never left your side.

Maybe that’s why you had grown so complacent, why you’d stopped looping her leash around the bench to secure her to your side and simply kept the leash within your reach beside you on the seat of the bench.

And it was because of that complacency that you were sprinting across the park, chasing your naughty dog and drawing judgemental stares from other park-goers.

“Hazel!” you called after her. “Hazel, I swear to god I’m taking all your toys away when we get home!” Right after you took a nice long bath to soothe your aching muscles. When was the last time you’d run this much?

You lost sight of her when she disappeared around a hedge, and the internal panic that set in was almost worse than the time that you accidentally emailed your creative writing professor the Harry Potter fanfiction you’d written instead of your final paper. (You still got an A on the assignment, but that’s besides the point).

You see her as soon as you round the corner, happily licking at a stranger’s face as she sat between his legs, and-

Holy shit, your dog led you to the most attractive man you’ve ever seen.

The stranger took note of you before you had a chance to say anything, and he raised his brow at you while angling his face away from Hazel’s kisses. “Does this belong to you?” he asked, pinching the tags on Hazel’s collar between his thumb and two fingers. “Hazelnut Mocha.” He snorted. “Is that your dog’s name or your Starbucks order?”

You weren’t sure if it was the amused smile that curled his lips or the quirk of his brow, but his teasing made you feel personally attacked. You crossed your arms across your chest. “Maybe it’s both.”

He shrugged, scratching the spot behind Hazel’s ear. “I suppose that’s one way to never forget your dog’s name or your coffee order.”

You hummed noncommittally before approaching and tugging Hazel away from the handsome stranger. It took considerably more effort than you had thought it would. “I’m really sorry about her,” you apologized. “She’s never like this. I don’t really know what happened.”

He brushed your apology off with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. If a cute girl wants to give me kisses, I certainly won’t complain.” He winked at you, and you wanted to just melt on the spot.

“Well, uh, I should, um-” You cleared your throat, stepping away and dragging a disappointed Hazel along with you. “Again, I’m really sorry. Even if you didn’t mind.”

You turned and hurried away before his smile made your mind any more frazzled.

Two weeks passed before you decided to show your face at the park again, and this time, you were sure to secure Hazel’s leash to your bench, ensuring that there would be no chases across the park and embarrassing encounters with handsome strangers.

The pup resigned herself to her fate and laid at your feet in the grass, her tongue lolling out of her mouth and her golden eyes shining in the sunlight. She greeted the other dogs that passed, and you thought nothing of it until you heard someone call her name.

Well, shit. You knew that voice. That voice had haunted your dreams for three nights straight after the incident two weeks ago.

“How have you been, pretty girl?” he asked, and you hesitantly lifted your gaze from your book to see him knelt in front of you, patting Hazel’s head as she yipped happily and dragged her tongue over his face in sloppy kisses.

Despite your proclivity to stare at handsome men that showered your dog with attention, your eyes were dragged away from the pair when a wet nose nudged your leg. “Well hello there,” you greeted the brown and white dog that sought your attention. You quickly marked your page and returned your book to your bag before petting your newest furry companion. “What’s your name, handsome?”

“Bucky,” the stranger answered.

You glanced up at him briefly before turning your attention back to the brown and white dog. “Aren’t you a handsome boy, Bucky. Yes, you’re so handsome,” you cooed. The stranger chuckled, and you glanced up expecting to see Hazel mauling him with more sloppy kisses, but instead, he was staring at you, amusement dancing in his blue eyes. “What?”

“I’m Bucky,” he clarified before nodding towards the dog. “That’s Dodger.”

“And you just assumed that I was talking about you when I called him handsome?”

And in complete contrast to how he had acted in your previous interaction, he actually looked embarrassed, nervously scratching the back of his neck while fending off even more kisses from Hazel. “I seem like a complete asshole, don’t I?” he asked sheepishly.

You laughed. “Well, I mean… Don’t let this go to your head or anything, but I suppose you are kind of handsome, too. You know, in a handsome stranger kind of way.” You felt your cheeks flood with warmth, and you averted your gaze, hoping he didn’t see just how flustered you were after your admission. You tried to breeze past it altogether by giving all of your attention to Dodger once again, petting him and praising him for being such a sweet boy.

After a moment of you and Bucky speaking only to each other’s dogs, you cleared your throat and commented, “I didn’t realize you had a dog. Was he at the park with you the day that Hazel practically assaulted you?”

“He’s not my dog.”

You blinked. “Oh. Is he your girlfriend’s dog?”

And just like that, all hints of embarrassment disappeared from his face. He quirked a brow and smirked at you. “My girlfriend?”

“Or boyfriend,” you added hastily.

He snorted and shook his head. “It depends on who you ask.”

You cocked your head to the side, and the action conjured up an image of Hazel doing the same whenever you would try to hold an actual conversation with her. “Uh, what?”

His gaze flitted to the ground as he smiled an amused little smile that had you biting your lip and shamelessly staring at the man. “It’s a bit of a joke among my friends,” he began. “Dodger is my buddy Steve’s dog. Some of our friends like to make it seem like we’re dating, but we definitely aren’t. We just know each other way too well.” His smile widened when he looked back up at you. “So to answer the question that you indirectly asked-”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “What?”

“-I’m single, sweetheart.”

You gaped at him, trying to form an appropriate response. This man was frustrating - frustratingly handsome, frustratingly smug, frustratingly able to read you like a goddamn open book. How dare he correctly assume you were trying to figure out if he was single or not?

The sound of a phone ringing interrupted your thought process, and Bucky gave you an apologetic look after glancing down at his phone. “I gotta take this,” he told you. You heard him greet the other person on the other end of the call before calling for Dodger. As he turned to go, he paused for a moment, pressed the phone against the front of his shirt to muffle the receiver, and called over his shoulder. “See you around, Hazel and Hazel’s mom.”

Right. You never gave him your name.

You were cursing yourself for nearly a month for not getting his phone number before he disappeared, and you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that you had a smidge of hope that you’d run into him at the park again... But alas, no luck.

You were starting to think that you’d never see your handsome park stranger - although, he wasn’t really a stranger anymore, was he? - but exactly 37 days after your last encounter with Bucky (aka handsome park stranger), Hazel brought you back together in the most heart attack inducing way she could manage.

You’d been sitting on the patio of your favorite little cafe, catching up with Carol and Val over coffee and fluffy pastries, and Hazel had been behaving herself aside from the occasionally whining and begging when any of you would touch your food.

She was behaving until she wasn’t.

You still don’t really know what set her off, but one moment she was sitting prettily and staring up at you with her golden eyes and the next she was breaking free from her leash and sprinting down the street and out of your sight.

You posted on social media asking everyone to be on the lookout for your Hazel and called your friends to help you search for her. You spent hours walking up and down the city streets and through the park that you frequented with Hazel. You called all of the shelters and animal control to see if anyone had brought Hazel to them instead of calling you. You talked to anyone and everyone that you passed on the street, asking if they’d seen your girl.

You tried so much to get your girl back, but nothing panned out.

You were in tears and your feet were sore from walking all over the goddamn city by the time you and the others returned to your apartment, resigned to wait for someone to contact you. Just as you were about to say goodnight to everyone and turn in for the night (read: cry yourself to sleep), your phone rang, and an unfamiliar number flashed across the screen. You shushed your friends and answered the phone.

Please be someone who found Hazel. Please be someone who found Hazel. Please be someone who found Hazel.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Your heart leapt into your throat at the sound of his voice, and for a moment you forgot that you had just been on the verge of a panic attack. “Take a deep breath for me, okay. I can practically feel you panicking through the phone. I have Hazel. She’s okay.”

“Thank you,” you breathed, nodding at your friends in response to their questioning looks. “Thank you so much, Bucky. Is she okay? Where did you find her? Should I meet you somewhere?”

He chuckled. “She’s fine. A little dirty, but she’s fine. As for where I found here...Well, I think your dog has a little crush on me, sweetheart.”

You grabbed your jacket from the coat rack and slipped it on before grabbing your keys. “What does that mean?”

“I came home and found her wandering around the courtyard at my apartment.” He sounded far too amused with the situation, and you definitely weren’t feeling up to dealing with his smug attitude. “She certainly made herself at home here. I may need to fight for shared custody after this.”

You rolled your eyes. “Just tell me where I should meet you.”

“I’ll send you my address.”

And just as he had told you, as soon as you ended the call, he shared his location with you. You swiftly assured Carol and Val that Hazel was okay, and you asked them to lock up when they left before beginning your walk to Bucky’s apartment.

Ten minutes later, you were sat on the floor of his living room, holding Hazel close to you and alternating between scolding her and telling her how much you love her as you tried to hold your tears at bay. Bucky sat on the couch, arms rested on his knees as he watched the teary-eyed reunion with a small smile curling his lips.

“You know, sweetheart,” he spoke up, drawing your attention away from Hazel, and you finally noticed the muddy paw prints on the front of his white tee. “I’m not much of a dog-person but-”

You gasped, covering Hazel’s floppy ears. “How dare you say such nonsense in front of Hazel!” You pressed a kiss between her eyes, whispering, “It’s okay, girl. Bucky didn’t mean it.”

“I did,” he countered, chuckling when you glared at him. “I’m more of a cat-person, but I suppose I can make an exception for Hazel. After all, she seems pretty attached to me. Not that I can blame her.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “She has awful taste in men,” you teased.

“I don’t know,” he argued. “People say that dogs are impeccable judges of character.”

You stood, dusting your jeans off and turned to face Bucky. “Thank you,” you told him, the sincerity clear in your voice. “I don’t know what I would have done if I couldn’t find her. I- I seriously owe you. Whatever you want, just name it.”

His blue eyes twinkled with mischief, and you immediately regretted your offer. “What about shared custody of Hazel?”

“Whatever you want that’s not that, just name it,” you amended.

“What about a date?” he asked instead.

Your eyes widened in surprise and you gaped like a fish, mouth opening and closing, opening and closing, over and over again as you tried to form a response. You certainly hadn’t been expecting that. He watched you with curious eyes, waiting patiently for your answer. Finally, the gears in your brain began to turn again and you answered, “As flattered as I am, I’m not really looking to date right now.”

Disappointment flashed across his features, but he smiled and all trace of disappointment was gone in an instant. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. You don’t owe me anything for being a decent person and making sure Hazel got back to you.”

You smiled softly at him, your fingers carding through Hazel’s fur. “Thank you, Bucky. Really.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

After that night - and after you and Bucky officially had each other’s numbers - you and he would text throughout the week, and you often sent him pictures of Hazel being increasingly goofy as the days wore on. You’d even invited him to the park one Sunday to see Hazel again, but he’d quickly turned you down, asking for a rain check.

He had a date, after all.

So instead, you took Hazel to the park and sent him pictures of the pretty pup lounging in the sunshine, greeting other dogs that passed by, and even licking the camera lens on your phone when she finally noticed you holding your phone out towards her to get the perfect angle. A smile never failed to appear on your face every time he sent a heart eyes meme in response.

Despite the near constant texting, you didn’t see Bucky again for over three weeks, and you’d only seen him because you had run into his friend Steve at the dog park.

It took a moment for you to realize that the brown and white dog that Hazel had instantly greeted once she’d been released from her leash was Dodger, but as soon as the realization sunk in, you looked around for Bucky.

There weren’t many people present, but you couldn’t find Bucky among the dog parents that lingered around the edges of the dog park.

You crouched down to greet Dodger, scratching him behind the ears and happily accepting his greeting kisses. “Hello, handsome. Is your uncle Bucky here?”

“Y/N?”

You turned your head in the direction of the voice, and you furrowed your brows when you saw a tall blond man that you didn’t recognize. Holy shit, was Hazel a handsome stranger magnet? “Do I know you?” you asked, doing your absolute best to keep your voice steady.

“Right, sorry,” he laughed. “I’m Steve. Bucky’s mentioned you a few times.”

You put two and two together quickly. “You’re Dodger’s dad!”

You spent the better part of the next hour chatting with Steve as Dodger and Hazel chased one another around the enclosed area, and you sent a picture of you and Steve to Bucky, happily claiming that Steve was telling you all of Bucky’s most embarrassing stories. (Bucky had sent a text to Steve within seconds of reading your text, but Steve refused to tell you what Bucky had said all while laughing so hard he nearly cried).

By the time Hazel and Dodger were laying at yours and Steve’s feet, panting and entirely worn out from an afternoon of playing, you were ready to say your goodbyes, but Steve quickly caught your attention before you could go.

“I’m meeting Bucky and a few other friends at the bar in about an hour. Would you be interested in getting a drink?” he asked, smiling so widely at you that you just couldn’t say no.

And that was how, after dropping Hazel off at home and making sure she was fed and had a full bowl of water, you found yourself at a sports bar, slinking through the Friday night crowd towards a table in the back.

You spotted Bucky immediately, and you smiled widely when his eyes widened and he choked on his beer before promptly standing to greet you. “What are you doing here, sweetheart?”

“Sweetheart?” you heard one of the men you didn’t recognize ask the others.

“Y/N,” Steve explained, and as if that was all they needed to know, the other two nodded. Steve smiled up at you, greeting, “Glad you found the place okay.”

Bucky quickly ushered you into the booth, sticking you between him and the only other woman present. As he introduced you to the others - Clint, Sam, and Nat - his arm snaked around your shoulders casually.

“So you’re the famous Y/N,” Sam asked, a teasing smile on his face as his gaze flitted from you to Bucky, and Bucky groaned in response.

You chuckled. “I wouldn’t necessarily say ‘famous’.”

“Oh, trust me,” Sam said, “as much as this guy talks about you, I’d say you’re pretty damn famous in our circle.”

You glanced at Bucky, biting your lip in a futile attempt to hide your amused smile. “Is that right?”

He huffed. “Hazel’s the real famous one, sweetheart.”

“Liar,” Nat accused. She turned to you, one perfectly shaped brow raising. “For weeks, it was Hazel’s mom this and Hazel’s mom that, and after that it was Y/N sent me this picture and Y/N told me this joke. I feel like I already know you, and I just met you.”

“So how’s Hazel?” Bucky asked in a clear attempt to change the topic. “Did she have a fun day with Dodger?”

You spent your evening getting to know Bucky’s friends better, sharing stories about Hazel, and listening intently anytime one of them told you a story about Bucky that had your sides aching from laughter. At the end of the evening, you had four new contacts in your phone and plans to meet up with Nat for lunch the following week.

“Need me to walk you home, sweetheart?” Bucky asked when you walked out together, but you shook your head.

“Nah.” You held up your phone, showing him the screen. “I got an Uber.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, nodding. “Okay. Text me when you get home?”

“Of course.” A red Toyota Camry pulled up to the curb, and after confirming it was the car that was supposed to pick you up, you stepped towards it. Ever the gentleman, Bucky opened the door for you, and you slid into the backseat. “Good night, Bucky.”

It was while you laid in bed that night, unable to sleep while Hazel snored beside you, that you realized that the handsome park stranger - the one that was more of a cat-person but would make an exception for Hazel; the one that was dating Steve depending on who you asked; the one that was constantly talking about you to his friends so much that they felt like they already knew you - had wormed his way into your heart.

Did that make Hazel your wing-woman? She certainly did have a proclivity for bringing you and Bucky together, even in indirect ways.

He was on your mind all night and throughout the following day, and by the time your customary trip to the park rolled around on Sunday afternoon, you were buzzing with anticipation. Would he be there again? Would Hazel inexplicably get loose from her leash and lead you straight to the man that had you feeling like a teenager with a crush again?

As romantic as it might have been, you didn’t want to leave those answers up to fate. Instead, you sent him a text not long after you woke up, letting him know where he could find you if he wanted to see Hazel that afternoon.

Unsurprisingly, it was Hazel that saw Bucky first that afternoon when he arrived at the park, and unsurprisingly, she tore her leash from your grip and sprinted towards him, nearly tackling him as he crouched closer to the ground to greet her.

Surprisingly, you were actually jealous of your dog as you watched her give him sloppy, wet kisses.

“What’s that look for, sweetheart?” Bucky asked, angling his face away from Hazel. “Everything okay?”

“Quick question,” you told him. “Is that date still on the table?”

He grinned at you with that smug grin that you had scoffed at the day you first met, that same smug grin that made your heart flutter in your chest and made your breath catch in your throat and made you want to press kisses to his face and-

“I was wondering when you’d take me up on the offer, sweetheart.”

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horanghaechan · 2 years

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LOVER (M.G) - Chapter 6

pairing: Michael Gray x original female character chapter: 6 pov: written in 3rd person genre: ‘rivals to lovers’, romance, mature content/smut, fluffy? warnings: S3 spoilers, non canon stuff. main character is BRAZILIAN therefore, there are references to 1920's brazil. keep in mind that the world at that time wasn't like the world we live nowadays, so there are offensive behaviours along the story. read at your own risk. english is not my first language, so any mistakes please tell me <3 disclaimer: this is the english translation of my portuguese fic 'Lover', based on Taylor Swift songs and Peaky Blinders S1-S3. This is PURE fanfiction.

Birmingham, England, 1924

Michael had such a busy day. Barely having returned from London, he was on his way to the headquarters to finish employees’ payments. It’s not that Maria Clara couldn’t do it alone, but Tommy had told him to never leave her alone and with money around men.

When he got there, Lizzie wasn’t at her desk and the door to Marie’s office was closed. He rolled his eyes, presuming the two of them were having tea and biscuits, chatting as if they didn’t have any work to do. Approaching her room to make a fuss of their leisure ‘afternoon tea’, he was stopped by what he heard as he came near.

“Your first kiss?!” The question came loud, as a screech.

“Shh! For God’s sake, Lizzie!”

“We should be having champagne, not tea. And then? How was it?”

Michael smirked.

So they were gossiping about her kiss?! Indirectly about him?!

“Weird. Very awkward! I didn’t know what to do and I panicked, but...” There was a pause. “You’ll find it pathetic, however… It was glorious, at the same time. It was like I could feel him all over my body, and the way he was holding me…!” Michael thought he heard a sigh. “Then I realised that, well, I was kissed by a man, you know? A real, moving force of a man. My first kiss and it was with Michael! And now...”

He couldn’t finish hearing the phrase, because someone nudged his shoulder, startling him. Turning around, he saw that it was Isaiah and shushed his friend, dragging him to the entrance of the office and starting to walk back inside, making loud noises.

“What’s gotten into you, Micky?” Isaiah whispered, frowning.

“I’ll tell you later.” He muttered. “What are you doing here, Isaiah?” He asked louder than he should, in front of Maria Clara’s door.

In less than three seconds, the Brazilian appeared, head peaking outside. When she saw him, her eyes widened and she froze.

“Where the hell did you come from?! Shouldn’t you be in London?”

“Hello, milady. It’s always a pleasure to see you, too.” Michael bowed sardonically. “And yes, I should. However, as I am a very competent man, I finished early and returned in time to make the payments here with you.”

“You didn’t need to.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve called Isaiah to escort me there, because I thought you’d be...”

“Did you call Isaiah?”

“Well, yes.” Marie crossed her arms, starting to get vexed. “It wasn’t fair to keep the workers waiting until tomorrow.”

“I see.” He looked at his friend. “Why don’t you take Your Ladyship to the pub and I’ll meet them in an hour? I believe you’ve dealt with the women employees, right?” His gaze returned to Maria Clara.

“I did. Lizzie was the last one.” She indicated someone behind her. “I can’t go to the pub now, Mr. Gray, work isn’t over yet. Isaiah, will you come with me, then?”

“Wait a second. How about he goes with me, and you stay here with Lizzie?”

“Of course not!” She snarled. “Why shouldn’t I go?”

“I confess that I prefer your dynamic that Monday, guys.” Lizzie walked through the door, smiling in amusement.

“What happened on Monday?” Isaiah questioned.

“Nothing!” Marie said quickly, gulping her shame and taking him by the hand. “So let’s go straight to the factory, dear!”

After hearing what she had said earlier, Michael wouldn’t let her get away like that. He annoyed her for the simple pleasure of doing so, but now... Now everything was different, since it seemed that, deep down, Maria Clara didn’t hate him that much.

“Oh, no, milady.” Michael stopped her. “Isaiah, you can go to the pub and I’ll go with Marie to the factory, eh.”

“I think it’s better...” His friend was going to go against it, but he raised his hand.

“I’m going with Maria Clara, we need to talk.”

“We don’t!” She widened her eyes.

“Yes, we do.” Passing her, he pulled her arm and started to drag her to the exit.

“Hey! What’s your problem?”

“We have to pay the workers, don’t we?”

“Mr. Gray, I’m not going to have you dragging me around like a paper sheet.”

“And I won’t have you walking around with money and only Isaiah as a chaperone.”

“But I can go with you?!” She scoffed, outraged. “I can’t see how it is of great help, especially since you don’t know how to shoot.”

“Maria Clara, don’t test me.” His hoarse and low voice was a warning, and for some divine reason, the Brazilian minx withdrew. He might not be skilled with firearms, but he was skilled with fists and knifes. “Now that we’re settled, shall we go?”

The scoff she let out was enough answer.

Marie went home from the factory. Michael had taken away all her desire to go out, and, thus cranky, she wouldn’t be good company. Luckily, Ana Vera promised to make a focaccia, a delicious salad and some Serrano ham to eat too.

She went upstairs and showered, anxious to get the cigarette smell out of her body. She couldn’t understand how everyone smoked so much! Her father and brothers smoked cheroots, obviously, but never around ladies and never more than three times a week – except for special occasions, which were not that often.

In the kitchen, she sat down with Ana and poured herself a glass of red wine.

“We should adopt a cat or a dog.” Marie looked around. “The house is so quiet.”

“Or you should accept Polly’s invitation and we move there.”

“Out of question!” She denied.

“Sinhá,” Ana sighed. “if it’s because of Mr. Gray, being here won’t change anything.”

“What about Michael?” She didn’t even bother asking Ana to stop calling her that. She had been doing it for years and the woman had never obeyed her.

“Do you really think that nobody has noticed? Probably even he did. Sinhazinha, since the Pearsons’ party, your behaviour only shows how you feel and being away from him doesn’t make any difference... Because when you meet him, it’s written all over your face.”

“And living under the same roof will make it impossible for me to hide, Ana!”

“At least we’ll be safe. Who can guarantee that what happened to Mrs. Shelby won’t happen again? And you’re a much more interesting target, for your family and the Pearsons would ask for Mr. Shelby’s head in retaliation.”

“Don’t say that!” Marie shivered. “I’m not a valuable prize for gangsters.”

“Alright, milady, then pretend I said nothing.” Ana gave up.

However, just as the lady-in-waiting had intended, the seed had been planted. Maria Clara was already contemplating the whole issue about their security and what happened to Grace. Was it why Michael was learning how to shoot? Why the mood of the three oldest Shelbys was like a powder keg next to a spark?!

Trying to distract herself and not suffer in advance, she grabbed her favourite book – ‘The Posthumous Memoirs of Brás Cubas’, by Brazilian author Machado de Assis,and hid in the library. It wasn’t a big house; after all, she lived only with Ana Vera. Although sometimes she had visits from other Shelby employees for repairs and heavy cleaning.

When she reached the part where Brás discovered Marcela’s ‘adventures’, a loud noise came from the front door. She rose up, startled. Armed with the bottle of wine she was drinking, she walked to the windows that faced the street and analysed through peripheral view who it might be. Recognizing the expensive suit and broad shoulders, Marie was beyond aghast, mouth drying at the sight. What the hell was Michael doing there?

“Sinhazinha, who is it? Are you expecting someone?”

“I wasn’t, but it’s Mr. Gray. Perhaps something happened?!”

“I’m going to make some tea; will you stay at the library?”

“Yes, sure.” Marie walked to the door. “Thank you, Ana.”

Michael staggered when Maria Clara appeared, for he was leaning against the wood. It only took a breath and two seconds gazing at him to realise he was drunk. The smell of alcohol and sweat was unpleasant, however... The bloodstains on his collar, the superficial cut on his lip, and the small bruises on his brow and jawline indicated that he not only was drunk, but also had been in trouble.

“Your Grace.” Bowing as etiquette demanded when greeting an aristocrat, Michael lost his balance again. Maria Clara held her breath and tried to keep him standing.

“Ana Vera!” She yelled as she pulled the man inside. “I need help!”

She just locked the door before Ana reappeared.

“Nossa Senhora D’Aparecida!” Her housekeeper was shocked. “What has happened to him? Let me help you, sinhazinha!”

“Let’s take him to my room. I think he needs a bath and to tend to these bruises, and a glass warm water with honey. The hangover will be unbearable!”

“A bath?! Sure you’re not suggesting we...”

“Leave him stinking here? No, Ana. He must shower.” Marie interrupted her. “We should also call Polly. She can take care of him as soon as she arrives.”

“What about Mum?” Michael questioned, leaning on Maria Clara and almost tripping over himself. Considering that they spoke in Portuguese, he understood shit, however, he recognized his mother’s name.

“We’re going to ask her to pick you up, Mr. Gray.” Ana replied. “Can you keep him awake while I make the call?” She looked at her mistress.

“Make haste, please.”

“No!” Michael stretched out his arm, preventing Ana from leaving. “Don’t call Mum! She’s going to embody the Inquisition and give me an earful.”

“And she won’t be wrong.” Maria Clara sighed. “Michael, you can’t stay here! We’re two single women, and... Well, look at you! You need a cold shower but you’re in no condition to stand.” As if proving her point, she backed away just one step and, to avoid falling on the floor, he collapsed against the wall, holding onto the stair rail.

“I can take a bath by myself if it’s in a bathtub! I came driving, so I’m fine.”

Marie was about to punch him. The irresponsible scoundrel still drove a car in that state?! Good God, she hoped the streets were intact and nobody was hurt.

“Come on, Sinhazinha. As long as he doesn’t drown, we can decide on what to do.”

Putting Michael in the bathroom was tough. Luckily, Maria Clara didn’t have to go through any extreme situation like undressing or soaping him. Ana Vera, as the head of the house, thought it best not to disturb Polly and keep him there for the night. She fetched clean towels and said she’d prepare the honey water, so Marie should just make sure he didn’t fall/injure himself or actually drown.

When Ana came back, she also had a piece of cake, for she believed that more sugar could help to cure or ease any hangover.

“Where is he going to sleep? Besides, we have to change him; his clothes are in a deplorable state, Ana!” Marie crossed her arms.

“Jesus, sinhazinha! I haven’t thought about that.” The housekeeper turned pale. “W-well, surely there must be something we can adapt for him to wear.”

Marie smiled ironically.

“In case you’ve forgotten, we are two women.”

“Let’s not panic, we’ll sort this out.” Ana asserted. “I’m going downstairs to see if I can find him anything and I’ll be right back. In the meantime, take care of him.”

With a sigh, Marie dropped her body onto the bed. Wanting to call Polly was equal to wanting to take care of Michael. Why had he fought? Where was Isaiah? His cousins? Charlotte? Why hadn’t he sought out Charlotte instead?

And what an unusual situation. If she was in a more relaxed mood, she could even pretend they were dating and Michael always did that sort of thing – how delusional that would be, too. Her heart pounded anxiously, because... Well, it was the first time she was alone with a man... In fact, it was the first time that she had a man (other than her family) in her house. If Ana couldn’t find something for him to wear, what would she do? Ask him to put on his smelly, ruined suit? Maybe he could sleep with a towel?!

Or she could leave him naked?

Her cheeks flushed. It would also be her first time seeing a naked man. She’d seen shirtless boys before, but never one whom she was emotionally involved with.

Dammit, if only Michael had stayed in London none of this would be happening!

As soon as the thought came, something else sparked in her head.

He came from London. And he said he went straight to Shelby Co.; so, he didn’t go home and unpacked his belongings... He most certainly still had his suitcase in the car.

“Michael?” She asked knocking on the bathroom door. “Are you alive?”

“And breathing.” He replied, voice laced with derision.

“Excellent.” She thanked. “Listen, did you take any luggage to London?”

“Yes, I was going to sleep there.”

“And where is it? Did you happen to leave it in the car?”

“Why’s that?”

“Because if you think you’re going to wear those filthy clothes and lie on my bed, you’re wrong.” Marie retorted, not caring it sounded wrong. “Did you leave it there or not?”

“I left it in the back seat.”

“Great, thanks.” Relieved, she went to the hallway and shouted instructions to Ana.

The wait didn’t last long. With perfect timing, Ana Vera brought the bag to her room seconds before Michael asked her to help him out of the bathtub.

Right. Maybe she could panic a little now.

“Go with your eyes closed and bring him directly to bed. He can get dressed under the covers.” Her lady’s maid suggested. “Or do you want me to go instead?”

“No!” Marie denied vehemently. “It’s fine, I can go by myself. Thank you, Ana, I’ll take over from here.”

“Are you sure not...”

“I am.” She cut her off. “Don’t make it worse for me, please.”

“Alright, milady.” The elder shook her head, displeased. “If anything happens, please call me. I’ll be in my room, as usual.”

“Perfect. Thanks. Goodnight.”

Alone, Maria Clara opened the bathroom door and took a deep breath. He was lying down, covered in a towel, and appeared to be sleeping, the water already drained. The scent of her shampoo and soap filled the entire room, a sign that he had really washed himself.

“I’m going to need you to wrap yourself in the towel, Michael. I didn’t bring your clothes, but they’re in bed and I’ll take you there. C’mon.” She closed her eyes.

Marie felt his warm hands closing around hers and braced herself for the urge to pull him away. With a husky chuckle, he got up and wrapped the towel around himself. When he said he was done, she held his arm tightly and walked to the bed; eyes fixed on the floor, for she didn’t have the courage to face him.

Luckily, he managed to keep his balance until they reached the mattress.

Under the covers, and very slowly, Michael put on his pyjama bottoms. It’d have to be enough, because he didn’t feel confident to button his nightshirt… He’d mess the order.

“Ana brought you some honey water and cake, for sugar can help ease hangovers. You better eat now and then I’ll help you brush your teeth.”

“I’m not hungry, but I’ll accept the water.” He reached for the glass, and despite being drunk, felt Marie’s gaze on his bare chest.

Oh, right.

If she’d never kissed anyone, what were the chances of knowing about male anatomy? She probably never saw a boy without a shirt before.

“I think you better eat just a little, so your stomach doesn’t get empty.” Marie sat on the edge of the bed, facing him and the tray. “It’s chocolate cake.”

“Then you eat it.”

“I’m not in your state, Michael.”

“And I’m not hungry.”

“If I take a bite, will you eat the rest?”

“Perhaps.” He taunted just for the simple pleasure of teasing her.

Rolling her eyes, she took a bite and moaned in delight. Michael was drunk and helpless, but the scene was… Incredible. Maria Clara was a beautiful girl, and ever since they kissed, there was something about her naiveness that trapped him. He opened his mouth, in a simple ‘Feed me, please’ gesture. To his surprise, she did so without resistance.

The cake was really delicious, but no better than the twist on the night course as a whole. When he left the pub, he didn’t think much, just drove to her house, because he knew that if his mother met him like that, he’d be a dead man. And he couldn’t stay with Isaiah, since the latter had female company. Marie was the safest route. It was a bonus that she didn’t send him away and made him spend the night in his car.

Now, to go through to all that fuss to tend for him...

That was a pleasant surprise.

After eating in silence, the two of them went to the bathroom again – his balance was still a joke – and Marie helped him with his teeth.

“If I’m going to sleep here, where are you going to sleep?” Michael broke the silence.

“In my bed, too.”

“My, my, Your Grace.” He smiled mischievously, green eyes gleaming in jest. “After a kiss you’ve became so bold!”

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Shut up, it’s not like this! It’s just that... If you get sick, I’ll be around to help.”

“I think I better put my shirt on, or else I’ll be harassed.”

“Oh Michael, for God’s sake!” Marie grunted. “I won’t do anything! Try to take a nap, I’ll bring you some ointment for the bruises and some bandages.”

Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared from the room. Although Michael did try to stay awake, as soon as his head hit the pillow, sleep devoured him.

The morning sun didn’t pass the thick curtains of Maria Clara’s room, but Ana Vera’s noises around the house did. The cacophony of her crockery and silverware grew even louder as she went down the steps and entered the kitchen. Ana had set up the large table, in addition to having brew her father’s coffee: the elegant packaging was next to the teapot. If it weren’t for her poorly slept night and the constant lack of space in the bed, Marie wouldn’t accept having the best coffee made for Michael (and herself)... Turns out she was vexed and tired, so having something delicious was more than necessary to improve her mood.

“Good morning, Ana.” She sat down. “Where are the dishes?”

“I can’t decide if we use the Portuguese or English porcelain.”

“Whatever one we can eat, I’d say.” Marie suggested ironically.

“Oh, sinhazinha! What will Mr. Gray think? That you are uncultured?!”

“He won’t think of anything, because he’s still sleeping and probably will wake up with a hangover impeding him to even have breakfast or notice the china.”

Her maid grimaced and ignored her as she studied some cups.

“The Portuguese, then.” Ana decided. “I will finish setting the table in a second.”

Maria Clara sighed, taking a shortbread and eating it. Ana arranged two seats, but instead of joining her, she headed for the door that led to the backyard.

“Ana? Where are you going?”

“To see if Mr. Gray’s clothes have dried. I’ve already had coffee, milady.”

“Without me?! Why?”

“Because I thought you’d prefer to eat alone with Mr. Gray.” The housekeeper grinned. Maria Clara’s eyes widened, understanding everything. That traitor liked Michael! “It’s no use making that face. Yesterday, while you were taking care of him, I noticed that you two make a beautiful couple; in addition to being more handsome and nicer than Robert, Michael has an advantage: your love.”

“Oh, please! Something you ate made you sick.” Marie shook her head in disbelief. “This topic is forbidden. I want to have breakfast in silence.”

With a laugh, Ana left her alone.

The room was still dark when Michael woke up. Despite feeling like he had slept for hours, he also felt as if he’d been run over by a coach. He wasn’t supposed to drink that much! Running a hand over his face, the sticky substance on his jaw and eyebrow brought back memories of last night: he was at Maria Clara’s house. There was a pitcher of water on the nightstand beside him and his throat begged for a sip. Slowly, he got to his feet and went to the bathroom to wash his face and change his clothes; he wouldn’t be so pesky as to walk around in his pyjamas on a property he didn’t own… With two single ladies inside.

As soon as he reached the banister, he came face to face with Ana, Marie’s lady-in-waiting and housekeeper.

“My lord.” She smiled, and then shook her head. “I mean, Mr. Gray.”

“Good morning, Miss Ana.”

“Milady is still having breakfast in the kitchen, if you wish to join her. I brought your clean clothes; can I leave it in the room for you?”

“Sure.” He nodded. “Thanks.”

A soft melody filled the hallway to the kitchen. Michael was surprised that Marie had her meals there, because… Well, a well-bred girl like her certainly shouldn’t even go near that place. Adding a little more to his surprise, when he entered, said lady stood with her back to him, next to a phonograph and softly swaying her body to the beat of the music. Marie was looking out the window, a cup in one hand and what looked like a crystallized fig in the other. He remained silent as he watched her; something about the scene was so adorable he didn’t have the heart to bother her. The emerald-green silk robe reminded him of when Marie had worn that damned gown. Straining through his memory, he tried to remember what she had been wearing last night when he showed up. He was pretty sure it was something short, but he hadn’t paid much attention – for obvious reasons.

Marie bit into the last piece of fig and let out a moan of approval, sucking on her sugary fingers to clean them up. That was Michael’s cue to sit down as fast as possible and keep his body from betraying him.

She half-turned to grab a napkin, noticing him.

“Why are you here?” Her cheeks heated up. “Since when are you awake?”

“I woke up a while ago, but I just came down.” He lied.

“And why didn’t you announce yourself?”

“Am I being held for questioning, milady?”

Marie crossed her arms, oblivious to the focus the movement brought to her breasts. Her nightgown wasn’t long enough, as he predicted; the girl kept surprising him.

“Well, Ana set the table just to please you, so I suggest you eat a lot to make her happy. And she put our best Portuguese crockery so that you don’t think we’re uncultured.”

“I like Ana.”

“She likes you too.” Marie grumbled. “Enjoy your meal, I’ll go get ready.”

“Will go out today?”

“Yes.”

“Where? With whom?”

“Am I being held for questioning, Mr. Gray?” Maria Clara mocked.

“Touché.”

The truth is, Marie would go to Arrow House to ride Apollo and borrow some books that Grace had left. In the late afternoon, as usual, she would meet Polly for tea.

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

A week after the ‘night incident’ that Michael provoked, Maria Clara noticed a slight change in his behaviour. When they were alone, he was relatively pleasant… He even made ‘inside jokes’ with her. The two managed to go almost a whole day without arguing despite working side by side; and the one who informed them of that fact was Isaiah, because both didn’t notice what was happening.

The idea that Michael ‘Shelby’ was just one of many Michaels got stronger when, as they were leaving work on Friday, a lady stopped them calling him ‘Henry’.

“Wait here.” Michael ordered, walking towards the woman.

“It’s his adoptive mother.” Isaiah explained in a whisper.

“Oh.”

She had never met Michael’s other family, because he didn’t talk about them in front of her and, since, theoretically, they weren’t friends. Likewise, Polly wasn’t open to the topic and Maria Clara knew there was no need to poke at the wound; after all, Michael was back in his original family and seemed happy there.

A few minutes later, he waved for Marie and Isaiah to come over.

“This is Isaiah, do you remember him?” Michael indicated his friend. “And this is Maria Clara Barbosa, the Brazilian who works with me. Marie is a marchioness, Mom.”

The woman flushed all over, bowing as etiquette dictated.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace. I’m Rosemary Johnson.”

“Please, there’s no need to do this!” Maria Clara glared at Michael. “I seldom use my title; call me Marie, Mrs. Johnson.”

“If I had known you’d be accompanied, I’d have brought more apples with me and made another pie. Henry loves apples, so whenever we pick them, I bring him some.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” Marie smiled politely. “I’m sure Henry appreciates the gesture. And don’t worry, he can always share his pie, right?”

Rosemary smiled as if meeting God, blushing again.

“A marchioness eating my pie! Your brother would never believe that!” She stared at Michael, her chubby hands squeezing his forearm. “W-well, I know you lot are busy, so I’ll get going. It was a pleasure meeting you, Your Grace!”

“Likewise, Mrs. Johnson. I hope you have a good return.” Marie bowed.

“I’ll get you a taxi; come, Mom.” He guided her to a corner of the street.

As soon as Rosemary left, Michael’s sweet pose was replaced by his usual swagger. Maria Clara frowned, wondering who that boy really was. There were few times that she’d caught a glimpse of ‘Henry’, but... She never knew who the real Michael Gray was. It was no news that the way he’d changed once Marie was accepted into Shelby Company had intrigued her, but the man in front of her now… He looked like a confused mix of all the other ‘slices’ of Michaels.

Good God, would there ever be a day in her life that she would stop being so enchanted by him?! That she wouldn’t want to know every little bit of him?!

Instead of accompanying the boys to the pub, Marie chose to go home. She was expecting a letter from Pedro and another from Thea; her brother promised some pictures from Brazil, and Thea promised interesting gossip and an invitation to Louis’ birthday ball.

From anticipation, came hunger. Ana Vera prepared a salad with Parma ham, a chicken pie and three desserts: fig stuffed with soft cocada, chocolate pudding and walnut cake. All to be eaten while drinking champagne, to celebrate her family’s photos.

The agony increased as soon as Maria Clara started eating the pie. No letter had arrived during the day, and it was almost nine in the evening. According to Pedro’s call and their calculations, it should’ve arrived in the morning; and Thea’s by afternoon, because it came from London. Unfortunately, she might not get them until the next Monday.

“What do you think the pictures are?” Marie asked Ana, filling her glass.

“Lots of photos of Rui Patrício, I hope, and of Tiziu too. He must be huge already!”

“Oh, I wish I had stayed long enough to see him grow up and train him.” She pouted. Tiziu was the foal that her mare, Poá, gave birth a month before Marie moved to England.

“But didn’t João say that Tereza is taking very good care of him?”

“Yes, however... I’m not there, you know?!” She sighed.

“I’m sure everyone misses you, especially Rui. He was very attached to you since he was little.” Ana smiled. “When do you think about visiting Brazil?”

“I was going to ask for a few months this year, but with what happened to Grace... I didn’t have the heart to go away.”

“Well, maybe for Christmas?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt to try.” Marie nodded.

The two continued to have dinner reminiscing about Rui Patrício’s stories, as he was the favourite animal in the house. All the others received affection and treatment worthy of a king, of course, but Rui would be the ‘emperor’. Always.

Ever since they rescued him while hiking through the farm.

She decided to start dessert with chocolate pudding, then the stuffed fig, and finish with her favourite: walnut cake. Maria Clara savoured it between laughter and tears. With each letter from her family, she spent a couple of days completely nostalgic. As she was going to bite a fig, the doorbell rang, and her heart sped up in her chest.

“It must be the postman!”

“I’ll answer, sinhazinha! Stay here.” Ana Vera rose, leaving the kitchen like a bolt.

Marie wiped her mouth and headed for the door as well, obviously. What were the chances of waiting calmly until Ana returned? None. Her racing heart tripled its speed at the sight of the ‘postman’. Maybe Michael was developing a habit of showing up at her house unannounced on Friday nights?!

This time, however, he was not empty-handed.

“What is it?” Marie didn’t even greet him, pointing to the basket and the package.

“My mother’s apple pie, and some letters, I suppose. I ran into the mailman as soon as I arrived.”

She flew towards him, taking the package from his hand. Ana Vera apologised for Marie’s ‘eagerness’, invited him in and offered to take the basket to the kitchen. Michael accepted and, as if he had no other choice, followed Maria Clara to the library.

The Brazilian was euphoric as she undid the seal, leaving two letters on the drinking table and carrying a kind of book to the sofa. He approached her, curious. Marie knelt, scattering several pictures on the upholstery and letting out little exclamations, which were soon followed by tears.

“Ana!” She yelled. “Tiziu is in them!”

“Ana is not here.” He walked to the door. “I’ll call her, though.”

Leaving the library, very uncomfortable due to Maria Clara’s crying, Michael bumped into Ana Vera in the hallway. The housekeeper was carrying a tray with stuffed figs and a generous slice of cake, as well as two glasses of champagne and a cup of tea.

“Milord!” The woman smiled. “I was going to meet you both; please, follow me.”

Michael noticed that this time Ana hadn’t corrected herself for calling him by a title he didn’t have.

Marie was still hunched over the photos, reading something that came with them. Her brother had the kindness to write the story about each one, and it made everything even more special. She would dedicate a full page of thanks to Pedro in her next letter. In addition to some family portraits, he’d also included some of her with them or their pets.

“He says that Tiziu is running the same drums as Poá.” Marie turned to Ana, showing the photo of a black horse. “And Eduarda can already recite a poem in French without stuttering!” She illustrated with her niece’s pic. “There are several of Rui Patrício, but I still haven’t read what he said. Give me a second, I’ll find out!”

“She’s telling me about the photos her brother sent, milord.” Ana explained to Michael, since Marie spoke in Portuguese at that moment. “Fancy champagne? Cake? Figs?”

“That chocolate cake was very good, what flavour is this?”

“Walnut; it is Lady Marie’s favourite.”

“Will she hate me if I grab a bite?”

“She rarely hates you, my lord.” Ana Vera was grateful that her sinhazinha was so distracted to noticed what they were talking about. “Besides, we still have a whole cake.”

“I think your concept of ‘hate’ is quite different from mine, Ana.” He joked.

“Trust me, just look at the…” The advice was never finished, because Marie laughed out loud and sobbed, starting to cry again. “Milady?”

“Papa’s the one who wrote it!” Holding up a photo of Rui next to her painting, she was moved by the story. “He said every time they are listening to Carinhoso, he flies to my portrait and rests there. Mama suggested decorating it with my silk ribbon, the one on my debut dress, and now, in addition to chirping, he smooths the fabric. Papa thinks it’s his way of showing he still remembers me!”

“Smart and adorable creature, indeed.” Ana smiled. “I’ll put this one in the frame next to your bed, okay? And Tiziu with Poá’s on the dressing table one.”

“Put this one of Netuno and Urano next to Tiziu’s, please.” Marie handed her one of the family dogs. “I’m so happy I could sing! Ah... I want to see them now more than ever!”

Michael had reverted to being a spectator. Her naivety trapped him, then the Portuguese that made him so aware of everything, and now, he realised that her happiness was a fantastically dangerous weapon. He was holding himself from grinning too!

“Well, sinhazinha, I brought the other desserts and mint tea, if you want. I’ll take the photos to your room and organize them. Goodnight.” Ana bowed, grabbing the letter. “Goodnight, milord.” She repeated in English.

And as her lady-in-waiting left the room, Maria Clara finally seemed to notice that Michael had been there the entire time.

“Oh, you.” She looked at him. “Do you need something from me? Did something happen to Polly? Isaiah? Tommy?”

“No, nothing. I only came by to bring you my pie since I kept thinking about what you said this evening…” He swallowed, the rest of the sentence stuck in his throat.

‘And maybe because I wanted to see you, but I’m not brave enough to admit it.’

“I see.” Wiping off her tears, Marie got up from the floor. “I tend to get a bit emotional when reading my family’s letters, I’m sorry you witnessed this.”

“No problem. I found it very fascinating.” Michael was sincere. “I’ve never received letters from my family, you know? It was quite an experience, even if indirectly.”

“Really?” She blinked, then shook her head. “Fancy a cup? Fig? Cake?”

“Oh, I was going to eat the cake, but I was afraid you’d hate me.”

“My selfishness for food can be controlled, even if it’s with walnut cake.” Maria Clara joked, offering him the fork. “Ah, I see that Ana decided that English porcelain would be the best option for today. She’s really committed to not letting me look like an uncultured twat.” Smirking, she sat on the armchair opposite his. “Champagne?”

“Sure.” Michael agreed. “What were you telling her in Portuguese?”

“Oh, just some news from home. Rui Patrício, our toucan, surprised my parents by proving that he misses me... Or almost that.” She decided to eat a fig, as to try to calm herself down and look less flustered in front of him. “There is a song that I really like, it’s called Carinhoso... I don’t know exactly what the English translation is, something around ‘Affectionate’ but not quite that… Anyway, Papa said that every time they hear it, Rui flies up to my portrait and starts chirping. I used to hum the tune to him, or play it while I fed him.”

“Wow.” He smiled. “Perhaps he really misses you.”

“Right?! I’ll talk about this in my next letter.”

“Can you put this song on so I can hear it? Only while I eat.”

“Sure, no problem.”

The phonograph was no longer at the kitchen, it was at the library with them. Michael had the slight impression that Maria Clara carried it around the house. He realised as soon as the rhythm started that it was the same one he’d heard last Saturday morning when he was hungover. He’d ask Ana about its meaning, for Marie would never tell him – or perhaps she would, but he’d be suspicious if she was being honest.

He finished the cake in a heartbeat, for it was delicious.

Standing up, he downed the champagne with a large gulp and faced her.

“Tomorrow, when you go to have tea with my Mum, if you can bring the apple pie too, I’d appreciate it very much. It’ll look like Ana made it, and I’ll be able eat it without the tense atmosphere.” He asked her. “Just one slice, if you don’t mind. It’s a really good pie!”

“Who are you and what did you do to Michael Gray?!” Marie asked more to herself than to him. There was his gentle side again, but it still felt like a character.

“Why, Maria Clara, wasn’t you the one who said I appreciated the gesture?”

“I was being polite.” She almost laughed in disbelief.

“But you were right. I like it when my mother brings me food. Both of them.”

Her heart sped up. She didn’t know if from the green eyes, the affectionate tone he’d used at the end of the sentence, or said man. However, before she could even understand everything, Michael said goodbye, taking the last notes from Carinhoso with him.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #michael gray fanfic #michael gray #michael gray x reader

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quicksilverownsmysoul · 3 years

Text

13 Going on 30 pt.1

A Peter Maximoff x reader fanfiction based off the movie 13 going on 30.

Summary: You are so excited when the most popular girl in your school agrees to come to your 13th birthday party. But after a cruel prank you find yourself wishing that you were popular and older. By some miracle your wish is granted but isn’t as wonderful as it seems. You turn out to be a major jerk and you don't even talk to your best friend Peter anymore. Can you fix everything and get back to normal or are you stuck living like this forever

Warnings: Angst and some suggestive content. But it’s mostly pure fluff. (Also peter has no powers in this and some scenes will be changed to better fit Peter and so I can be creative with it!)

Word Count: 2759

I am so excited to share this fic with y’all! 13 going on 30 is one of my favorite comfort movies and I thought that adding Peter Maximoff to it would make it even better.

It was 1987 and your birthday party was next week. You were so excited you could barely contain yourself. You were turning 13, you were finally becoming a teenager. It was time to abandon all childish things and live a life of adventure and romance. One that all the movies told you was guaranteed once you became a teenager. You were writing in your notebook during lunch checking off the things you had already gotten for your birthday party. “Balloons, check. Party favors, check. The cutest outfit, check!”

“Your best friend in the whole world who is getting you the best present. Check!” Peter added as he sat down across from you, dropping his lunch tray down on the table. You just rolled our eyes at him.“So I was thinking for this year we should go to the arcade then get ice cream.” Peter muttered his mouth full of the school’s signature sloppy joe sandwich. “Cause if I eat too much ice cream before we play that dance game you love, I'm gonna get sick again.” Some of the sandwich meat dripped out of the corner of his mouth. You handed him a napkin to wipe it, not even disgusted at this point.

You and Peter had been best friends since birth. You had lived right next to each other as kids and you had done everything together. Learning how to walk, the loss of your first tooth, the first day of school. Always together no matter what. That’s what made you so nervous to tell him what was on your mind. “Actually, I was thinking of having a party this year.” You gave him a nervous smile.

“What?!” He choked out in the midst of a coughing fit having nearly choked on his milk. Kids turned around to look at him and you shushed him. ”Peter stop shouting.” You scolded through gritted teeth.

He spoke up again this time, his voice back to it’s normal level. “But it’s always just us.”

You winced, you had figured he was going to respond like this. “I know, I know. But hear me out.” Peter sat back in his chair, arms crossed. “Lucy said she’d come to the party this year, and she’d bring Dylan! You know how much I like him.” You gushed and Peter narrowed his eyes at you.

“How did you convince the most popular girl in school to come to your party?”

“Way harsh peter.” You reached over to his tray attempting to steal one of his fries. His hand slapped yours away. “You make it sound like she doesn't even know I exist.”

“That’s exactly what I’m implying, you and I are at the bottom of the social food chain and you know it.” He pushed his chair back even further, now only balancing on two legs. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” You defended.

He held your gaze with narrowed eyes as you tired your best to maintain eye contact. The minute you looked away he knew he had you. “I know you're lying (y/n). When you can’t look me in the eye you’re hiding something. Spill it.”

You muttered really quickly. “Imayormaynothavedoneherhomeworkforthepastmonth.”

He gave you an exasperated look. “What?”

“I said I may or may not have done her homework for the past month.”

He gave you a disapproving look. “Don’t look at me like that. “ You pouted. “It was the only way she was going to bring Dylan.”

“I don't even know why you want that guy at your party. Or Lucy for that matter. They’re all a bunch of jerks.” Peter got up to put his tray away. You shoved your notebook back into your bag and got up to follow him.

“You don’t even know them Peter.”

“Neither do you.” You frowned at him before turning on your heel and walking away from him. “(y/n) wait.” You sped up and he sped up with you. He caught up to you and grabbed your arm. You refused to look at him.

Peter’s harsh look softened and his grip on your arm loosed. “Look.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “ I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

You gave him a soft smile. “I won’t especially not with my best friend around.” You bumped your shoulder into his. He returned your smile after a while and your face lit up. “It’s going to be fun!”

“If you say so.”

On the day of your party you couldn't even sit still for a single second. Pacing by the front door waiting for Lucy and her friends to arrive. The doorbell rang and you threw open the door, but your smile dropped when you saw it was just Peter. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Geez, it's good to see you too.” He pushed his way into your house as you closed the door behind him.

“Sorry I just thought it was Lucy.”

“And you were disappointed when it was me.” He joked making himself at home on your couch.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“No, I get it. Suddenly you get new friends and I’m old news. Hung out to dry. Dead and buried without a moment to grieve.” He milked his performance trying to make you feel guilty. You sat down next to him knocking his feet off your mother’s coffee table.

“Shut up.” You laughed, he watched you and smiled. You noticed the keyboard strapped to his chest and groaned. “Did you have to bring your keyboard?”

“Duh. It’s part of your gift.”

“I hope that’s not all you got me.”

“Hey!” He mocked being hurt by your words. “And it’s not by the way.” He sat up and made his way to your front door. “I gotta go get it, I left it on your doorstep.” He opened the door and was gone for a minute, making you anxious with anticipation. He poked his head through the doorway and a sweet smile plastered on his lips. “Close your eyes.”

You quickly covered your eyes with your hands. You heard Peter’s sneakers shuffling as he made his way closer to you. “No peeking.”

“I’m not!”

“Yes you are, I can see you looking through the slits of your fingers.” You giggled at the accusation and squeezed your eyes even tighter. You felt the couch dip from his weight as he sat back down next to you. You feel his hands close around yours, and the small action making you blush. He carefully removed your hands from your eyes. “Ta-da!”

Sitting on the coffee table front of you was a huge handmade pink doll house. “I decided to make you your own (y/n) dream house.” Your eyes widened taking it all in. It was beautiful.

“Petey did you make all this?” You asked, heart swelling at the sweet action.

“Yeah,” He admitted a little embarrassed. He scooted closer to the table. “See that’s you in your bubble bath. Reading your favorite magazine” It was a Barbie doll with a picture of your face tape on it. You giggled.” And there’s your room with the giant closet you’ve always wanted and a huge stereo collection. I know how much you love music. And there’s that bum Rick Springfield, sitting on the couch.” As you took in all the details you fell even more in love with the house. Peter had put so much time into this and you adored it.

“And uh, there’s me.” He smiled sheepishly. A picture of him was glued to a piece of cardboard. His picture was making that ‘I’m watching you’ gesture at Rick Springfield. “I’m making sure that creep keeps his hands to himself. He’s only here for his musical talents, nothing else.” You smiled at him. He smiled back and for a second you could have sworn he glanced down at your lips. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He pulled out a red packet and shook it lightly. “Wishing dust.”

You scooted closer to him so you guys could read the package together. “It says wishing dust knows what’s in your heart of hearts. They’ll make all your dreams come true.” He whispered the last part, his eyes cast downward as you watched him rip open the package. He stood up and sprinkled the dust down on the house. You watched in wonder as all the different colors rained down together and decorated the whole house in a pretty shimmer. Your eyes met his and you could feel yourself tearing up. He was so sweet and he didn't even know how much this meant to you.

Just then the doorbell rang and you jumped to your feet. “They’re here!” You wiped away the tears that threatened to fall really quickly before dashing to the door.

“Yay.” Peter cheered sarcastically. You ignored him and sprinted to open the door. Lucy was there along with her friends and Dylan in the back. She was wearing a neon pink dress, the same one you had begged your mom to buy you last week. She had said no obviously.

“Hi Lucy! Thanks for coming!” She just gave you a tight smile and let herself in. She looked around your living room and a sneer made its way to her face when she saw Peter on your couch fiddling with his keyboard.

“Sup Freak.” Lucy shot Peter a sickly sweet smile.

“Sup slut.” Peter replied, mirroring her smile. You felt your mouth open in shock and shot him a deadly look. Lucy just pressed on trying to get a reaction out of Peter.

“I see your hair is still as gray and as ugly as ever.”

“At least my hair is naturally this color. From the look of your roots you should really look into getting a better stylist. You ain’t fooling anybody honey.”

They continued to glare at each other until Lucy finally broke away from his gaze and turned to face you. “Where is this party happening anyway.”

“It’s um downstairs, in the basement.” You motioned towards it, Lucy and her friends made their way down the steps. Peter followed them carrying your dollhouse, but you held your arm out to stop him. “What was that? Why were you being such a jerk?”

“She started it!”

You huffed. “I know, but it’s my party so please try to be nice to her.” He opened his mouth to say something but then decided against it. He pushed past your arm and went down the stairs to the basement. Taking two at a time.

“So this is it.” Lucy picked at the neon colored table cloth. You didn't know what to say as she looked around. “What are we going to do anyway?”

“Well we could play twister, Peter is really good at it.” Peter gave a small salute in acknowledgement as they glanced towards him. “Or we could watch a movie.”’ You said excitedly, making your way over to the VHS rack.” I have a lot of good ones.``

“Lame.” Lucy announced and her friends echoed in agreement.

You felt embarrassed of thinking that they would enjoy such childish things. “Why don't we play a new game?” Lucy suggested.

“What kind of game?” Peter asked, suspicion laced in his tone.

“A fun one.” She made her way towards you and placed her hand on your shoulder as she turned to address Peter. “Not that you would know anything about fun Maximoff.”

“Not that you would know anything about fun.” Peter mocked back in a high pitched tone.

“Real mature.” Peter stuck his tongue out at her.

She turned back to you. “Let’s play seven minutes in heaven.” She leaned in even closer. “You can go first (y/n), and I think you’ll like who you get.” She glanced back and you followed her gaze towards Dylan. He shot you a smile and you felt yourself blush.

All of a sudden you heard your mom. “(y/n)!” Your mother yelled down the stairs. “Your cake is here come and get it!”

“Peter go get it.” Lucy commanded.

“What? No.” He scoffed. You met his gaze and shot him a pleading look. “Fine.” He put the dollhouse away in your closet on the top shelf and made his way to the stairs. “Thanks Petey.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Lucy took off her scarf from around her neck and placed it over your eyes, knotting it tightly in the back. She led you towards the closet and you felt your heart rate pick up. You could hear the giggles of her friends as they closed the door. You stood there in the darkness waiting for Dylan to come in. It had been a while since Lucy had led you to the closet, you sat down putting your arms around your knees hugging them close.

Peter came back down the stairs carrying your cake, as he was coming down Lucy was going up the stairs, her friends trailing behind her. “Hey where are you going?”

She didn't answer, just smiled at him placing a hand on his shoulder. “(y/n) is waiting for you in the closet.” He gave her a confused look, he didn't know he was part of this game. Lucy and her friends continued up the steps, Dylan swiped your cake with his finger smearing the icing and eating it. Peter yanked it away and continued down into the basement. Madonna was playing softly in the background, he put the cake on the table and made his way to the closet, opening the door. He saw you sitting there on the floor, you upon hearing the door squeak open were smiling up at him. “I didn't think you were going to come.”

He nervously smiled back at you and sat down on the floor across from you. You reached your hands out towards him. “Where are you?” He let his hands find yours, fingers intertwined in one another. He had held your hand before but this time it felt so different. He saw you lean in and he did the same. He was inches away from your lips when you whispered. “Oh Dylan.” He pulled back abruptly.

“It’s not Dylan, It’s Peter.” You yanked your hands away from his and tore the scarf away from your eyes.

“What are you doing here?” You felt panic take over you. “Where is Dylan?”

“He left. They all did, no one is here.” You stood up and saw that Peter was right. Your snack table stood untouched and Lucy, and Dylan were no where to be found. You immediately turned on Peter. “What did you do?”

Peter looked at you in disbelief. “Nothing!”

“Yes you did!” You were screaming at him at this point.

“I just went to get your cake!” He screamed back.

“Get out.” you whispered. Peter looked at you, clearly hurt that you were pushing him away. “GET OUT!” You screamed as you pushed him out of the closet.

“(y/n) wait!” He tried holding the door open as you desperately tried shutting it. “(y/n) let me talk to you!”

“Peter stop.” You cried.

“(y/n)-”

“No!” You managed to shut the door and lock it. You sat back down on the floor and put the blindfold back over your eyes.

“(y/n) Please!” You could hear Peter on the other side of the door even with your hands covering your ears. “Please come out!”

“I hate you!” You screamed as his voice stopped.

“You don’t mean that.” He muttered, tears of his own threatening to spill.

“Yes I do! I hate you! I hate me! I hate everything!” You were so angry and embarrassed and that you really thought Lucy was your friend. And that you were going to get to kiss Dylan.

“(y/n) what are you talking about?”

“I want to be thirty!” You wailed through your tears.

“Just let me play you this song.” Peter yelled back. He slung his keyboard over his head and started to mess with it trying to find the right key. “It’ll make you feel better!”

You ignored him continuing to cry. “I wanna be thirty! I wanna be thirty and flirty and thriving.” You swing your head back shaking the shelf behind you. The wishing dust from the dollhouse fell down all around you but you didn't even notice. You could faintly hear Peter playing some tune on his keyboard but you ignored it. Just muttering through your tears over and over how you wanted to be thirty, flirty and thriving. At the moment you wanted to be anywhere but there.

#quicksilver xmen #quicksilver xmen x reader #quicksilver x y/n #quicksilver x you #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver #peter maximoff imagine #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #xmen fanfiction #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n #marvel fanfiction #13 going on 30 #13 going on 30 au

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ikeromantic · 3 years

Text

Fake It Til You Make It

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction - approx. 2200 words. This scene takes place post-romantic epilogue. Fluff and a little spice.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Adrift

Kyubei watched the innkeeper through narrowed eyes. Though the man was clearly nervous, he didn’t seem to be lying. His story hadn’t changed in the last three tellings, so either he was an accomplished liar or he was telling the truth.

“L-lord Akechi and the woman left with one of the Akechi warriors. Right after we saw the fire across the lake,” the innkeeper said for the fourth time. “Then the storm came and after that, no one saw him.”

“Do you remember anything else? Did anyone else come in after they left? Did you see anyone acting strangely?”

The man shook his head. “No, I mean, not really? Everyone was a bit strange after we saw the blaze. Wondering if Azuchi was still standing.” He frowned. “You think it might have been Lord Akechi? Him disappearing like that right after -”

Kyubei cut him off. “No. That was the work of the Mouri clan.” It wasn’t the first person he’d spoken with that suspected. And why wouldn’t they? Mitsuhide was only just back from his misadventure at the shogun’s side. An ally in disgrace. A man not to be trusted.

The worst part of all this was that Kyubei really had no idea what his lord wanted him to do. Should he quash the rumors? Encourage them? Mitsuhide’s instructions from his last letter said nothing about an attack on Azuchi - not like this - and nothing about disappearing. Of course, he pretended like he knew exactly what was going on. He had to, until he received additional instructions.

“So . . . am I free to go?” The innkeeper was frowning now. His nervousness replaced by a desire to get back to making money at the inn.

“For now,” Kyubei said. He gave the man a hard stare. “If I need anything else, I will send someone for you.”

The innkeeper bowed and left, leaving Kyubei alone with his thoughts. It really seemed that in the storm, his lord had simply vanished into thin air. And Miyake too.

Perhaps they'd left with Ranmaru, who was also missing. But if so, there would be a letter. A message. Something!

The castle staff had no idea where he was - they’d waited for him to return for hours. Miyake’s squad couldn’t find their commander either. Both men were expected.

And the chatelaine . . . his lady. Kyubei worried that he had failed to protect her again.

***

Morning came with pale light through a high window. It fell across four careworn, sleeping faces. Sasuke and Miyake lay in a tangle of blankets on the floor, and in a bed, Mitsuhide clung to his little mouse. He woke with the first notes of bird-song, but kept his eyes shut. He wasn’t ready to confront the strange world of 500 years in the future just yet.

His little one stirred in his arms as the sound of morning birds turned into a hum of outside activity. “Is it . . . are we really . . .” She opened her eyes and looked around Sarutobi’s flat. “We’re really here.”

Mitsuhide nodded.

“I want to be happy about it, but . . .”

He shushed her with a kiss. “It will be fine. Worrying won’t return us faster.”

She sighed and buried her face against his chest. “I know. I just hope everyone is alright.”

“They will be,” Mitsuhide reassured her. He didn’t think of it as a lie - simply an assumption he based on his past experience. Nobunaga would handle this threat as he did others that came before it.

And Kyubei would see to what the left hand needed to be doing.

Sasuke sat up, rubbing his face. “I apologize for the accommodations,” he told them. The same apology he’d given the night before.

“At least we had somewhere to sleep.” The chatelaine sat up and wiggled out of the blanket. “I should probably check on my flat and see if it’s still mine. If so, we won't have to impose on you a second night. Although,” she sighed. “I don’t have my ID or my keys or anything.”

“I don't mind,” Sasuke replied. “You are welcome to continue crashing here. Although, we may not be here for long. Weren’t there activities you wanted to do in this time? While you can?” His left eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly.

Mitsuhide gave her one of his slow, warm smiles. His fingers traced a path down her spine. “Yes, you did mention some things I would like to see, since we are here.”

His little mouse arched like a cat against his hand. “I did . . . yes. Alright. Since we’re here, we might as well try to enjoy it!”

Miyake rolled over on the floor and pulled the blanket over his head.

“I take it that means you plan to stay here for the day?”

Sasuke answered for the half-asleep warrior. “Actually, I would really appreciate it if Miyake would accompany me. I need to go to my university and make some arrangements.”

Miyake groaned and sat up. He blinked as his gaze went around the room, taking in all the strange objects. Finally, he settled on the ninja. “You need protection or something?”

“No. I don’t think anyone will attack me.” Sasuke felt around for his glasses and slid them on. “But I expect to be moving some heavy equipment in the lab. And I may have a friend who can help us out with those arrangements, if you're there to corroborate my story.”

“Corr what?” Miyake frowned.

“Authenticate. Like a two factor security key.” The ninja grinned.

The warrior looked to Mitsuhide uncertainly.

“If Sarutobi believes you can assist him today, then that is what you will do. I am sure my fiancée and I will be fine.”

The chatelaine looked less certain about this, but she nodded agreement.

The four of them took turns dressing in the ‘washroom’ to give each other privacy. His morning was one of surprise as the . . . toilet . . . squirted him with water. And warm or cold water came from a metal spigot at the turn of a handle too, spilling into a porcelain basin. There were more smokeless lanterns - electric lights they were called - and other wonders.

Had Mitsunari been there, he was sure the scholar could have spent weeks studying every device but Mitsuhide just needed to know how to use it.

In this place, he was the naïve child, and his little one, the wise teacher. Such a shift in their positions was hard to take. Mitsuhide didn’t think of himself as arrogant but this situation was humbling in the extreme. Thankfully, he managed to get through dressing and breakfast without any serious mishaps.

Sasuke and Miyake left to the university. The flat was silent in their wake. Mitsuhide and his little mouse sat on the edge of the bed. She was tapping away at a . . . tablet . . . to get access to her accounts. The electronic scroll was interesting, at least. With pictures and writing all lit up so you could read it even in the dark.

Mitsuhide stood and stretched, trying to get used to moving in his new clothes. They were Sarutobi’s and didn’t quite fit. He was dressed in a pair of pants that clung tightly to his legs and ended short of his ankle. The top was a soft weave, dyed black. It sported an odd blue character on it and the word Sonic. Sarutobi said the picture was a hedgehog, whatever that was.

He would have liked to wear something without a picture on it. He’d had the choice between this one and something with a lizard that walked on two legs and shot fire from its mouth. Those were the only two shirts the ninja had that were long enough to cover him to his waist. And there was no way he was walking around with a bare midriff. Even if his little mouse looked interested in the idea.

Her midriff was bare afterall, she’d laughed. And it was - sort of. She tied one of Sasuke’s shirts in a bow under her breasts and had a pair of his shorts on. Though Mitsuhide wasn’t familiar with the clothes of this time, he thought she looked like a child trying to fit into her father’s clothes. Endearingly cute, but ill fit. Some of the clothes they saw women wearing on the way in the night before would have looked much better on her.

She looked up as if she knew he was thinking about her. “Ok, I think we’re ready to go.”

“Where to, my love?”

“Well, first to my apartment. It looks like my rent payments have all been made. And the building manager knows me so I should be able to get a spare key.” Her smile was all relief.

They arrived to the apartment, a small space in a tall building that reminded Mitsuhide of a castle, if the castle was robbed of all charm and beauty. Her room was utilitarian and sterile, and while there was still the wonder of technology, he could see none of her personality in the space. He said as much.

“Hm, yeah. I didn’t really have time to decorate. The apartment came furnished. I moved in and then, well,” she laughed. “I ended up in Azuchi with you.”

Mitsuhide pulled her into a hug. “A fate worse than death, little mouse?”

“You know it wasn’t,” she giggled, laughing harder as he ran his fingers down her sensitive sides. Holding her like this felt like home, even if nothing else was familiar.

After several slow breaths, they let go of each other.

“I must confess, I cannot see you living in this place. It doesn’t seem very safe. And you don’t have much room for your sewing.” Mitsuhide couldn’t help but poke into her cabinets, shelves, and drawers.

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty small but it was a place I could afford on my own.”

Mitsuhide heard the pride in her voice. He smiled. “I can imagine you coming here, determined to make it on your own.” He turned from the cabinet he was inspecting to see her stripping off her shirt.

Her pert breasts were a pleasant surprise, but she crossed her arms over them as soon as she saw him looking. “I’m just changing clothes! I didn’t want to wear Sasuke’s basketball shorts all day.”

“Please, continue.”

“I - I can’t while you’re staring at me!” She turned so that all he could see was her back.

Mitsuhide laughed. “Are we not lovers? How many times have I kissed, nibbled, caressed every bit of your skin from head to toe?”

She shivered, skin dimpling with remembered touches. Slow, nervous, she turned back around. Her arms lowered, revealing her chest again. “You can watch if you want to.”

He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or mischief that made her voice squeak at the end. Either was amusing. “Mmm, I’m a lucky man to get a show.”

“You are,” she smiled. Her fingers went to the tie on the shorts. They fell away, pooling around her feet. Underneath, she wore nothing.

Mitsuhide sucked in a breath.

Her hips swayed as she walked to her wardrobe. She glanced over her shoulder at him and fluttered her eyelashes, trying to be saucy. The effect was a little spoiled by the blush that ran from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. From within the wardrobe she pulled out a little twist of cloth. It was light blue and made of some embroidered material.

He didn’t realize he could see her skin through it until she slipped it on, slowly pulling the fabric taut over her curves. Though she was technically covered, it was somehow more tempting than just skin alone. “What . . . is that?”

“Panties.” She giggled. Then she pulled out a matching bit of cloth and wrapped it around her chest. The rise of her breasts were restrained by this new piece of clothing as she reached behind her as if to tie it.

“And that?”

“My bra.” She turned right, then left, letting him get a good view.

The sight made Mitsuhide want to simultaneously rip the clothing off her and still enjoy looking at her in them. It wasn’t possible to have both . . .

“To be honest, it’s been kind of nice not wearing these the last few months. But I think I would feel weird if I didn’t wear them with my modern clothes.”

“I like them.” Mitsuhide smiled widely. A grin that brought heat to her gaze before she looked away, suddenly shy. He knew this ground well. Even here in a world where everything was strange, his little one was the same.

He stepped forward, reaching to cup her cheek. His other hand settled lightly on her hip, fingertips stroking the skin just above the fabric of her panties. She inhaled sharply, lips parting. Mitsuhide took the invitation.

The kiss was, at first, gentle and sweet, but the press of their bodies built heat between them. Their breath mingled, tongues entwined. Hands grasping, stroking, pulling. Tearing.

Mitsuhide stopped at the sound of fabric ripping.

His little one gasped and reached down to feel the damage. Her eyes widened. “You . . . tore my panties.” Then she started to laugh.

He laughed too. Never in his life had he expected a woman so wonderful. A woman he would want badly enough to - literally - tear the clothes off her. This kind of passion he’d always believed was fake. Yet here he was. It was unthinkable. Incredible. “I love you,” Mitsuhide told her, smiling so widely that it hurt.

“I love you too.”

She gestured to the wardrobe. "I should probably, you know. Finish." It took only a moment for her to shimmy into her own clothes. Then they headed out into this strange world that was his home 500 years after death.

Next: Kitsune's Day Out

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #otome boys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

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btsinwonderland · 3 years

Text

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 7: Missing

A Loki fanfiction!

Previous Chapter --- Next Chapter

Full Chapter List

---------------------------------

It was your third time getting denied access to the infirmary. You stood there and created such a ruckus that Volstagg, the head of the infirmary, came out of the room to address you.

“What is all this bangin’ about?” he said, rubbing his thick orange beard and looking at you questionably.

The blonde-haired boy at the front desk scowled in your direction. “She was told last night that we are currently not allowing visitors, but she won’t listen.”

You threw him back a venomous gaze and took a deep breath, ready to present your case. “My friend Valkyrie was injured at yesterday’s game and I have to see her! She fell nearly thirty feet and nobody has told me a single thing about her condition. She could be dead for all I know and -“

“She’s over here. For the love of Merlin, please stop talkin’,” he said, leading you into the infirmary.

You smiled at the blonde boy and followed Volstagg through the door, into the infirmary. There were many more beds than you remembered seeing before. It seemed the room itself had elongated to make room for how many injured students there were. They bunked the beds to four levels and house-elves apparated between patients to provide care to those still healing.

There was one boy with a crooked looking arm that frightened you. He was sleeping on the third bunk of his bed group. Another girl had bandages around her eyes and was sitting up, scratching her pet rat between its ears. You gulped at the damage that was done, realizing that you had gotten off lucky.

Volstagg led you to a bed with the curtain drawn around it. It surprised you that Valkyrie got her own little section of the room.

“Thor brought her here in a mad fuss. She broke both her legs but should be fine in the mornin’,” Volstagg said. “You stay here as long as you need to, not a second more, understand?” He looked at you pointedly.

You smiled at him. “Thank you, sir.”

He grumbled away and left you alone. Valkyrie laid there with her eyes closed, and a bit of sweat on her brow. You walked over and drew up a chair beside her and took her hand. Using the back of your robe sleeve, you patted her forehead to get the sweat off.

“Hmmm, Professor?” she said.

You laughed. “Unfortunately, it’s just me,” you said.

Valkyrie smiled, eyes still closed. “I suppose you’re an alright consolation.”

“Are you okay?” you said, petting her hand.

Valkyrie opened her eyes and looked at you. The dark brown irises were rich, though the whites of her eyes had reddened from fatigue. “Oh stop it, I’m not on my deathbed, Freya. Volstagg gave me a mending brew, said I should be all better by the morning! Tastes like piss though.”

You laughed too loud, and it earned you a shush from a nearby house-elf applying ointment to a gash on a student’s arm. “Professor Odinson was quick to get you, though,” you said with a mischievous smile.

Valkyrie smiled. “I can still remember the feeling of being in his arms. Though the amount of pain I was in did block out most of it and made it slightly less romantic than I would have hoped…”

Footsteps approached, and you saw Professor Odinson stop at the foot of Valkyrie’s bed. “Freya! Volstagg couldn’t keep you out, eh?”

“Hell no!” Valkyrie said, shooting you a winning smile. Despite being bedridden, she was extraordinarily beautiful. You smiled back at her.

Professor Odinson reached over and adjusted the blankets by Valkyrie’s feet. She tried to sit up, but he gently stopped her by the shoulder and eased her down. “Take it easy, champ. We can’t have our captain injured again,” he said with a smirk.

Valkyrie looked at him with a devilish grin. “I do carry the team,” she said with a wink.

He laughed, and his gaze lingered over her lips for a fraction of a moment; you saw. You flushed when Professor Odinson looked at you and he cleared his throat. “Well, I won’t keep you two from catching up on your...girl talk or whatever it is you do.” He took out something from his pocket; it was a box of mini cauldron cakes which he shoved into Valkyrie’s hands. “Share these…” he said, leaving. “Heal quickly now Valkyrie, I won’t go easy on you when you return!”

“I wouldn't want you to, sir!” she said with a smile.

You grabbed a cauldron cake and took a bite, watching Valkyrie stare at Professor Odinson as he left. “Oh Professor, I’d love for you to go hard on me,” you said, in your best pleading voice.

Valkyrie snorted. “Shut it and don’t eat all my cakes.”

You both giggled and snacked on the cakes. Eventually, your thoughts drifted to a certain professor you were trying to avoid thinking about, but even amidst a beautiful flurry of chocolate and strawberry jam in your mouth, he still lingered.

After several more minutes of chatting, and another cauldron cake, you left Valkyrie to rest. The entire infirmary seemed to sigh with a sense of relief when you departed and you looked back at them with a scowl. You weren’t that loud...

It was still early in the morning, only ten o’clock, so you grabbed some breakfast before heading to your first Defence Against the Dark Arts class. You met Pom and Mo at the door, and the three of you took your seats.

A middle-aged man in a tweed jacket and a greying beard walked into the room, closing the door with a wave of his wand. “Welcome, students. I apologize for my tardiness this semester. I trust you have all been very well behaved and completed all your readings.”

He walked to the front of the class, through the aisle next to you, and you caught the musky scent of longrass and pipe smoke from him. “My six-month expedition in the Amazon was well worth it, though that is a story for another day. For now, we shall start on one of the spells in your readings. A shielding spell.”

You had not seen Professor Baldur since last year. He had been your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for half your time at Hogwarts. His demeanour was a cross between strict and friendly, wholly depending on what side of his temperament you landed on.

Professor Baldur opened up his briefcase and took out a brown paper bag. He reached inside and pulled out a red apple. “Now, Darwish, throw this at my head,” he said, passing the apple to Mo.

Mo looked at you and Pom before looking back at the professor. “A-are you sure, sir?” Some students whispered and giggled in the background.

Professor Baldur stepped back, giving Mo enough distance to hurl it and said, “yes, yes, come on now, throw! And someone be sure to catch it, I don’t want my lunch bruised!”

Mo wound up and flung the apple at Professor Baldur. Surely, the fruit would have landed squarely on his forehead had he not flicked his wand in a flash and yelled, “protego!”

The apple bounced off of a blueish glow around the professor and clipped another student in the shoulder, only to be caught by his neighbour. The class murmured excitedly at the opportunity to learn such a powerful spell.

Mo leaned over and whispered, “would have been useful to learn this one before those damned crows nearly pecked my eyes out.”

You nodded back in response.

“Questions?” Professor Baldur asked.

Pom raised her hand. “Does this spell work on more powerful things, like other spells? Can it cover more people?”

The professor took a bite of his apple and nodded with his eyes closed. “Yes, yes, it all depends on the user. Protego can be as powerful as a great wall, protecting an entire community! Or it can be as flimsy as a cardboard box.” He walked over to your desk and leaned over you, Pom, and Mo. “However, protego cannot deflect the unforgivable curses. For those you must block, dodge, or interrupt.”

Just then, someone rapped on the door at the back of the classroom and it opened to Professor Sif. “Everyone head to the Great Hall for an emergency announcement. Classes are dismissed for the day.”

You looked at Pom and Mo, who shrugged. You did not expect this to be a celebratory dismissal, and it caused an anxious lump to form in your chest. The three of you followed the rest of the students to the Great Hall and sat at your table. Pom stood at the Ravenclaw table and glanced around as if she were waiting for someone but eventually sat down.

Once the last of the students and teachers trickled in, the doors shut and the murmurs quieted. You looked at the head table and looked for Professor Laufeyson; he sat beside Professor Odinson with a grim expression on his face. Something looked off, more than usual; he seemed pale and tired.

Headmistress Frigga rose, and there was no trace of a smile on her face today. “It has been a strange semester thus far. From our dear Professor Hubert Rattowl’s passing and the unfortunate incident of yesterday’s Quidditch game. I am sorry to pull you from class today. But it is with a heavy heart I must announce that one of your classmates has gone missing.” There was a rush of whispers across the hall which Professor Sif shushed loudly, as the Headmistress continued. “The teachers and I are up in arms to look for the missing student. And as such, we have deemed it necessary to lock down Hogwarts for the month of October and possibly the rest of the semester. This means no going outside of castle grounds, no trips to Hogsmeade, and there is a new curfew of seven o’clock, post meridiem.”

There were several groans at this announcement. The Headmistress looked down at the students and clasped the edges of the podium. “Any students caught breaking these rules will be expelled and sent home immediately.”

“It’s the Dark One!” someone shouted. Then whispers erupted from every table, talking about his return and some even threw Professor Laufeyson’s name into the fire.

“Silence!” Headmistress Frigga yelled. “I will not tolerate gossip in my school!” She gave a gentler look after silencing the room with her commanding tone. “I know you are scared, as am I. However, we will not get through this if we cannot work together. Now is a time for Hogwarts to be unified and diligent. Take care of your fellow classmates and teachers. We must be both kind and cautious.”

Then, some of the other teachers took turns providing a list of their new schedules, particularly for the students engaged in night classes or other extra-curricular activities. You looked down at the table, thinking about what was going on. First the attack and now a student had actually gone missing. You looked back at Professor Laufeyson, but he was no longer at the table or in the Great Hall.

Professor Hogun walked past you towards the Ravenclaw table. He paused over Pom and put a hand on her shoulder. He then escorted her out of the Great Hall.

“What’s that about?” Mo said.

“I don’t know,” you replied, though the lump in your chest only tightened.

“I can’t believe we can’t go to Hogsmeade! I was looking forward to our annual butterbeer bash,” he said, crossing his arms.

You gave him a look, to which he only smiled and said, “the best way for coping with this distress is to have a nice butterbeer don’t you think?”

“Mo, I don’t think anything is going to calm my distress,” you said with a laugh. The dread in your stomach remained.

As you exited the Great Hall, you noticed Pom at the end of the corridor, with a few students around her. Her face was completely red, and she was sobbing. One of her friends hugged her and Pom buried her face in their arms and cried. You walked over to the crowd and tapped someone on the shoulder.

“What’s wrong? Is Pom alright?” You said.

The student frowned and shook his head. “The missing student...is Pom’s brother, Ken.”

Before you could even process the news, you saw Professor Laufeyson come down the hall. When the student you spoke to caught sight of him, he yelled aloud and lunged at the professor. A girl with braids held the boy back. “It’s your fault! It’s your fault he’s missing!” He nearly spat his words at Professor Laufeyson.

Professor Laufeyson looked grim, but maintained an impartial expression. “I don’t know what you mean. I am sorry to hear about our missing student. I hope they find him.”

“You’re the Dark One’s son! You’re causing all this to happen!” The boy said.

The other students gasped, and for a moment you saw rage on Professor Laufeyson’s face. Then Professor Hogun broke up the crowd and took the insolent student by the arm. “You do not speak to your Professor in that tone, Warren! Minus twenty points for Ravenclaw and detention!” He guided the boy down the hall before throwing Professor Laufeyson a disapproving glance, as if he agreed with the student anyway.

As the crowd dispersed, Professor Laufeyson left, and you hesitated for a moment before you followed him. You followed him down the corridor, past the library, until the hordes of panicked students thinned out to the point you were alone. “Wait! Sir!”

He stopped, arms crossed. “What?” he said, turning to face you. His face was a mask.

“Are you alright?”

He actually chuckled. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he said, shrugging. You walked up closer to him. He gave you an incredulous look, but you could sense something beyond it. Irritation. “It’s nothing I have not heard before. And I must grant that boy a touch of respect since he was brave enough to tell me what everyone else was thinking.”

You looked at him then, afraid to say what you wanted to say.

“And you wonder the same thing,” he said. A glimmer of disappointment in his eyes. “Just like the rest of them.”

That was not fair. “I’ve been trying to help you!”

He laughed again. “What makes you think I need your help?” He turned away to leave and you could not bear the frustration.

Your anger bubbled to the surface. “I saw you die!”

For a moment, his eyes widened, but he maintained his composure. “What?”

You breathed in and exhaled slowly. “I have a...gift, or at least that’s what Heimdall says. I have visions.”

He watched you curiously as you continued.

“I have these dreams, and for a long time, all I dreamed of was that blue cube - the Tesseract you called it - in the lake. It’s in some sort of cavern. I don’t know where. But then, before you arrived in school, I saw you, in my vision. In the cavern, with these strange creatures surrounding you.”

Professor Laufeyson looked at you with a sort of satisfaction, despite hearing of his death. “So that’s how you knew about the Tesseract,” he said, cocking his head to the side.

Your anger flared up again. “Hold on, did you act upset so I would feel bad for you and tell you everything?”

He raised his hands up. “Don’t take it so badly, at least I didn’t use any magic this time!”

You grit your teeth. This man was insufferable. “You just lie, all the time then?”

He walked towards you and put a finger under your chin as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. “People lie all the time, love, I just own it.”

You ignored the reaction your body had to his touch and stepped back. “Why do you want that cube? Does it have anything to do with the missing student?”

“You can thank my father for the missing student. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are more disappearances. Times are changing! As for what I want, you should already know that, seer. I can’t do your job for you.” He turned and walked away.

You were so frustrated you could shake him. “But you’ll die if you search for the Tesseract!”

He shrugged. “What difference does that make? Nobody cares.”

“I don’t want you to die.”

He stopped walking for a moment and turned his head slightly. “Then you’d be the first.” He said and left you standing there, alone in the corridor.

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thegreenmetblue · 3 years

Text

STARKER FESTIVAL SUMMER BINGO : 2nd square

not a date

read on ao3

Peter was utterly anxious. To be honest, he’s not even sure anything in his life stressed him more than that. To be fair, he wasn’t expecting this. At all. Let’s go back to earlier in the day. This morning to be more precise.

Peter was lying in his bed, watching some weird videos on YouTube. But it was Saturday morning. It’s what teenagers do on a early Saturday morning (read : at 10 am). Not that the boy was gonna say it out loud but it was either that, either reading fanfictions about Spiderman and Iron Man. But shhh if you ask him, he’d say it’s only for checking how people are describing him.

Anyway, he was watching some hilarious videos Ned has sent him for the last six days when his phone stopped the video in exchange of Tony Stark’s face. Peter’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, like every time Tony’s calling him. “Yes ?”, he answers with a faint voice. Most of the times, he has no issues talking to Tony face to face but god knows why, Peter has still big issues with calls.

“If this isn’t my favorite young adult. Hi, Pete. Im sorry if woke up you. Or maybe not that sorry, it was time to anyway.”, Tony’s voice says in the speaker. Peter’s cheeks redden at that. He doesn’t know the reason of it, but it’s been almost two months Tony stopped calling him a kid. And now he just said young adult, it gives hope to Peter’s poor heart. Maybe Tony stopped seeing him as a kid. Maybe he sees him more as an equal now ? Lost in his thoughts, the boy doesn’t even realize he didn’t answer to the man on the other side of the phone.

“Alright, imma take that as a no. Gosh, I wondered what happened to the boy that was practically begging to have all my attention.”, Tony laughs softly. Again, he just said Peter wasn’t that boy anymore. The boy makes a little shame sound to the man’s comment about his behavior, feeling his cheeks burning even more.

“N-no, im sorry, im here mr. Stark. You didn’t wake me up. And please take that back, I was never asking for you attention, old man.”, Peter shoots back. He loves doing that. He loves talking back to Tony. “Imma pretend I didn’t hear what you just called me. And Im also gonna pretend like you’re not shamelessly lying to me at the moment. Anyway, you have plans tonight ?”, Tony asks, a bit of growling in his voice. This automatically warms Peter’s heart. He’s probably gonna go to Tony’s lab tonight.

Peter was trying not to smile too much when he remembered Tony wasn’t actually there. “No, I don’t have anything. You want me in the lab ?”, the boy asks and immediately regrets his choice of words. want me in the lab. Fuck. He was gonna say sorry to that, but thanks god Tony speaks before he can make it even more awkward. “No actually I was thinking of something a little more fun. What do you say about eating in a fancy restaurant tonight ?”. Peter’s heart doesn’t skip a beat this time, it skips severals. Tony wants- what ?

“What ?”, he lets out, without even realizing it. “Should I take that as a no again ?”. Tony’s voice echoes in Peter’s brain but never gets analyzed. The boy’s still frozen, his phone hanging in his hand, the sound of his beating heart ringing in his ears.

“Peter ? Fri just told me your heartbeats are unsually high, are you okay ?”. And this time, that wakes him up. “Wh-what ? Oh.. no that’s- im okay, it’s just- MJ!”, Peter stutters as an answer. He swears he can hear Tony’s frowning’s expression in the silence that follows.

“I mean, she- MJ, she sent me a funny, a text, it reminded me of something and I huh.. yeah. No, that’s yes.”. Another long silence. that’s a yes. Peter feels like he just answered a proposal. “Yes as in, im free for tonight, mr. Stark.”, Peter finishes, his cheeks burning with shame.

“Great. And Im not gonna question what just happened, alright ? Be ready for 7.”, Tony simply says before hanging up. Just like that. Just like he didn’t just made Peter’s brain completely fry.

“Did Tony just asked me on a date?”, Peter asks himself out loud, alone in his bedroom, his jaw hanging in shook. What the hell ?

That’s how Peter started the most stressful day of his entire life. Exams ? Spiderman ? Thanos ? Forget all of this, he has a freakin’ date with Tony freakin’ Stark, that is the real stressful shit. He spends half of the day walking in his apartment.

Around 3, he starts to panic hard because Tony said fancy. But Peter doesn’t have fancy clothes. He stayed in front of his phone, hesitating to send Tony something about that or no. He doesn’t want Tony to think he only has kid’s clothes. But then, better this than showing up in a fancy restaurant with a pun-sweat right ?

PP : How should I be dressed for tonight ?

Peter finally sends, not asking but hoping Tony’ll understand what he meant. His smile increases when, 6 minutes after, his phone rings.

TS : Happy is gonna drop you a suit at 5.

Peter’s inside catches fire at that. The words sugar daddy are ringing in his ears. Tony is gonna buy him a suit. Just for tonight. For their date. “Oh my god, imma be sick.”, Peter mumbles. His heart has been beating so fast since the call. And he feels like he’s gonna throw up. And he’s also happy. So happy. But- a date ? With Tony Stark ? Peter has been in love with the man for- he can’t even remember. Of course at first it was just a fan crush, then a real crush, then it bloomed into full love. And Peter never thought he could had a chance. But- Peter’s thoughts get cut by the entry door opening.

It’s May. And it’s been 5 hours now that Peter is combusting with impatience all alone in his apartment that he just can’t help himself. As soon as May starts taking to him, he blurts out : “I’ve got a date tonight!”

That’s how the hundreds of questions start. May knows he’s gay. However, May doesn’t know he loves Tony and she definitely doesn’t know the actual date is with Tony. So when she starts asking who he is, Peter realizes it maybe wasn’t the best idea. So after receiving the 5 hugs May felt like she needed to give him for that, the boy sends another text to Tony.

PP : Can we meet at the park next to my building please?

And then, he lets May giving him advices for tonight. “Alright, I get why you won’t tell me. Even if Im a little concerned, I get it. Where is he taking you ?”, she asks, a big smile on her face. “I don’t know actually, he just said it was somewhere fancy.”, Peter answers, trying not to let his smile gets to him too much.

“And how are you gonna get dressed ? You maybe can try some of Ben’s suit ?”. And Peter’s heart warms at that proposition. “It’s alright May, I already have something to wear actually.”

The two next hours aren’t better, they’re worst. May continues giving him advices. For his sakes, Peter swears himself to never use some. Then he takes a shower, the longest he never took. Just in case. He wants all of his skin to smell good for Tony. His cheeks brun at this thought. Are him and Tony gonna.. ? Now his whole body is warming up and Peter can’t help but jerking off at the thought of him and Tony going home tonight and having some fun.

When Happy leaves him a text saying the suit is in the mailbox, the boy sneaks to get it. Once the suit is on him, Peter can’t stop looking at his own reflection in the mirror. It’s a light blue suit and fuck, he does look good in those. His whole skin is shivering because Tony bought it to him. Tony’s money is touching his skin. The boy snorts at his own weird thoughts. But he can’t help it.

A small whine escapes his lips when he realizes there’s still 1h30 before Tony comes to get him. And that’s the absolute worst feeling ever. Peter tries to work, to watch a tv show, to talk with May, to phone MJ or Ned, to build lego, but nothing is able to make the time look less slow. And the more the time passes, the more Peter’s stomach gets stress crushed.

When 7 pm is finally approaching, Peter’s not even sure he can breath anymore. “Peter, hey- Peter, please can you stop ?”, May finally snaps and Peter turns to her, ready to burst at her that she doesn’t know how he feels right now, but she shushes him before he can even start.

“Everything’s gonna go well, angel. But please, you’re gonna faint before you’ll even get there, alright ? You’re handsome my baby, he’s gonna love you.”, May tries to calm him by hugging him. He was about to answer her when the clock beside them shows that 7 pm is in 5 minutes. Peter jumps saying he’s gonna be late and rushes out of the apartment.

He went down the stairs, crossed the street and went to the park in a 1 minute time. His heart is menacing to get out of his chest. And when he finally hears Tony’s voice behind him, his whole body jerks and he turns to the voice.

His heart stops again. Holy fuck, Tony is- he’s god-handsome. Peter’s jaw opens and doesn’t close.

“You’re doing alright Peter ?”, Tony asks, after a few seconds. Peter tries. He tries really hard. But Tony is in front of him, in a grey suit that looks absolutely heavenly hot on him, and they’re going on a date and-

“Peter ?”, this time, he forces himself to answer before Tony decides to leaves him there. “Hum… huh- yeah? Yeah you look good. I- I mean.. Im good! Im doing… good.”. He watches in horror as Tony tries to not laugh at him. “Blue suits you, by the way.”, Tony comments and Peter tries not to blush or smile at that.

Then the older one shows him the car behind them and Peter hurries inside.

“So. Why the park ?”, the man asks after a few seconds. Peter’s brows frown in confusion. “Forget it. Everything alright Pete ? You look… tense. Did something happened while you patrolled ?”. And this time, Peter’s sure he’s blushing. Why can’t he just relax ? Okay it’s a date but it shouldn’t be any different than the rest of the time they spend together.

“Yeah.. Yeah im sorry I was just a bit nervous, you know… I… Im happy you invited me tho! So.. where are we going ?”, the boy tries to show he’s grateful for this. The last thing he wants is Tony thinking he’s not happy about the date.

“It’s an Italian restaurant, my favorite one. You’ll see, everything that’ll get into your mouth tonight will make you fly.”, Tony answers and there’s a silence. Peter’s cheeks burn hot now. Did Tony really said- oh my god. “Im just realizing how it sounds. Maybe not my best choices of words.”, the man laughs. laughs, as if he didn’t created a whole fire in Peter’s body. The boy just prays not to pop up a boner just because of a single sentence.

The rest of the ride is just small talks and when they finally arrive, Peter stays close to Tony, it makes him feel protected. And he likes it. The smile on his face is uncontrollable. He can’t believe he’s on an actual date with Tony Stark. His heart is about to burst from happiness. And the place is stunning, and Tony’s stunning. And Peter sees people watching them and he feels proud. He knows how much people want Tony. But Tony’s there with him.

Once they’re seated, Peter can’t help but stare at Tony who’s in front of him. And the only thing he can think of is that he loves him. But the boy shuts up. Tony didn’t mentioned it being a date yet, and even when he does, Peter can’t just say he loves him already.

When the menu comes, Peter just stare at the Italian names blankly. “I… I don’t understand anything that’s written.” , he murmurs to Tony, a bit ashamed. But the man just fondly snorts in response and translates him the different propositions. But after the explanations, Peter’s still lost as fuck. what the fuck are all of those ?. Tony laughs again, louder this time, noticing Peter’s lost face.

“You know what, I’ll order for you. How does that sound ?”. The boy’s heart stops and he flushes different shades of red at once. Tony is gonna order for him. “That- That sounds good. Im sorry I don’t know what are those.”, Peter finally says. “Hey, none of that Pete. Plus, Im kinda excited for you to try what I’ll pick for you.”, the man says, like it wasn’t making Peter squirm in his chair. Oh my god, he’s gonna die.

To give himself a bit of capacity, he pretends to read the menu once again and pouts noticing the prices aren’t there. Meaning it must be like, super expensive. He knows Tony can pay, and there’s a side of him that likes it. Because it’s easier for him to call Tony Daddy in his head. But there’s also a part of him that hates it because it feels like he can’t complete. May and Peter are kinda broke and Peter would have liked to be able to pay a restaurant to Tony too.

“What’s up with the pout ?”. Shit. “N-Nothing, mr. Stark really. It’s just… you know, I can’t… it’s a fancy restaurant and May and I aren’t…”, he begins but Tony cuts him. “Im stopping you right there, Peter. Im sorry if me picking a fancy restaurant embarrassed you, I should have asked where you wanted to go first. But don’t worry about that, okay ? Im not asking you to pay for anything, I invited you there.”. Peter feels his heart beating hard in his chest. “No, Im really happy to be there, I swear! I just… I just don’t want- I don’t know, forget it.”.

Tony does what Peter asked him, he drops the subject and start talking about Peter’s project in the lab. And that, it allows Peter to relax a bit. Because it suddenly feels like a normal time with Tony. And not a date. Well, a date yes but not an awkward one. And if Peter chokes on his own saliva when Tony orders in fucking italian in front of him, then at least, the man acts like he didn’t see it. And Peter’s happy there’s a table because explaining to Tony why he’s hard right now would have been real awkward.

It becomes a bit more awkward again when the meals arrive. Because Peter gets aroused by how good the food Tony picked for him is. Because Tony looks genuinely satisfied with the fact Peter moans at every bite he takes. And because watching the gorgeous man eating in front of him is also a whole show.

Peter is too occupied staring at Tony to realize he’s missing his mouth with the next bite he takes. The man laughs gently at him and Peter wants to fucking hide under the table because now Tony’ll think he doesn’t know how to eat.

“That’s good huh ? Knew you would like it.”, Tony smiles, after a minute of silence. The smile on Peter’s lips grows automatically. He likes that. He really likes that Tony knew what he’d like. “That’s… the best thing I ever ate mr. Stark!”, Peter answers, beaming with happiness. Even the awkward moments can’t ruin this for him. He’s so happy.

The rest of the evening goes well. So well even. But the more the end approaches, the more Peter can’t help but asks himself if something’s gonna happen or not. Like… Is Tony gonna bring him home ? Is he gonna kiss him ? Even the thought of that is enough to make Peter’s head feel dizzy. He can’t even let himself imagine something more than a kiss would happen. And if he does, he’s gonna combust in front of Tony. And before his mind decides to picture them having sex, Peter shakes his head, his cheeks reddening with both shame and want. He had so many dream about Tony, so many wet dreams about Tony. He has been dreaming about the man since even before they actually meet. And Peter feels like he would cum the second Tony lays a hand on him. That’d be pretty awkward. And then, Peter can’t help but wonder what Tony sees in him. He’s nobody. Tony can have whoever he wants, and still, he chose him. Does Tony know he’s a virgin still ? Would he care ?

“Okay, have you even listened to a word I just told you ?”, Tony asks, a jaded look on his face. Peter realizes the man has been talking to him and blushes in shame. “Im so sorry! I was thinking… I got lost in my thoughts, sorry.”, he apologizes, hoping Tony won’t think he’s boring him.

“Wow, he’s getting invited to the fanciest restaurant ever and still act like it’s not enough. What more do you want Parker ?”, Tony jokes and one part of Peter is happy he didn’t get upset. Another part of him just wanna scream he wants Tony to kiss him once they’re out of the restaurant. But what if Tony wanna take his time ? He doesn’t wanna sound as desperate as he really is.

“I’d really love for a car.”, Peter jokes back, glad he made Tony smile. “Ask and you shall receive.”. And Peter doesn’t know how honest Tony is with this. He hopes the man is joking. But Tony’s intense look in his eyes when Peter said those words is enough to make him realize the man is serious about this. “I was joking, mr. Stark.”, the boy adds, just to be sure he won’t receive a car tomorrow. Tony doesn’t answer anything to that, which is kinda weird, but Peter doesn’t think too much about it.

When the server comes back and asks if they want a dessert, Tony answers for him again. No. This time Tony doesn’t wait for Peter to even asks him, he just orders him something in Italian again.

“I could have asked him for ice cream you know…”, Peter whines, faking a pout. “Oh so he understands Italian now.”. And the smile Tony had on his lips almost all night is making Peter heart feel so light.

“I don’t, but I don’t think I need a italian degree to understand ‘gelato’, old man.”, Peter teases, making himself feels hot all over his body. He sees Tony’s gaze changing a bit too. Is Tony loving this as much as him ? “Brat.”, the man accuses and Peter stops himself to make a punishment joke. They’re not there yet.

The boy is now eating his damn vanilla ice cream and can’t help the blush creeping on his face again. Tony is staring at him. Not watching. Staring. Peter’s senses can feel his intense gaze on him, on his face. And the boy feels like he doesn’t know how to eat anymore. He’s sure he’s putting ice cream everywhere on his lips and wants to die about it.

“Y-You didn’t want to take something ? Huh… dessert or- or coffee ?”, he stutters, to make things less intense, because Peter is seconds away to moan under Tony’s gaze. “Im all good, thanks Pete.”, Tony answers and the boy doesn’t know if he’s dreaming or not but Tony’s voice sounded more… low ? He goes back to eating his ice cream, hoping it’s the last ice cream he’ll ever eat in his life.

When they finally go out, Peter feels drunk. He’s so happy, so nervous and so horny at the same time. He’d say so in love but let’s not brings more awkward to this. They walk in silence to Tony’s car. And just before Tony can open his car, Peter blurts out : “Thank you so much for the dinner mr. Stark! It was really really good and really fun. I liked it… a lot.”, he says, knowing he’s blushing again but doesn’t care at this point. Maybe Tony is waiting for him to make the first move. Because he doesn’t wanna rush him.

“Pleasure was mine, Pete.”, the man answers, a soft smile on his lips. And then, Peter doesn’t even realize what his body his doing, but that should be the good time no ? His heart is pounding so fast and loud in his chest, ears and whole body as he leans and kiss Tony. A smack. Just a smack. Because Peter doesn’t even know how to kiss. It was fast, but enough to make Peter’s heart explodes in his chest.

But then he sees Tony’s face. Tony’s frozen and shocked face. Shit. Did it was too soon ? Did it sucked ? Did Tony expected someone who could actually kiss him ? Peter wants to throw up. ”Mr. Stark ?”, he asks faintly.

“Peter. What… What was that ?”, Tony questions, his tone dangerously flat. “I- I thought… Im so sorry I... You know with the date and all, I thought maybe… maybe it was a good time to kiss you, you know ? Im sorry if Im not a g-”, Peter painfully begins but gets cut by Tony. “Wait- A date ? It wasn’t a date.”, the man says, his voice suddenly high. Peter’s blood turns cold in his whole body.

What ?

“Wh- What ?”, he breathes, voice already trembling. Oh god no. No no no no, this can’t be happening.

“This. That’s- Christ, Peter. It wasn’t a date. I- I didn’t- We’re not- Fuck.”, Tony panics, his voice almost screaming the last bit, stepping back from Peter. Peter who’s still frozen, watching what’s happening in front of him without being able to move.

“Oh god, Im so sorry if I made you think it was a date, kid. Im- It wasn’t my intention.”, Tony tries to apologize, clearly still panicking. The only word echoing in Peter’s brain is kid. Tony hasn’t called him like that for months. And now he’s doing it again.

“Peter, kid. Shit, you can’t cry- I- Peter Im so sorry I shouldn’t-”. And it’s only when Tony says that that Peter realizes tears are rolling down his cheeks. His heart feels heavy in his chest. No. His heart feels completely crushed in his chest. And the humiliation. The boy still stands there, only capable of crying in front of Tony, who’s panicking on his own.

“Kid, you- Im sorry, Im not mad I swear, we can’t- We just can’t. We’re not… that.”. And Peter’s heart feels like breaking again. “D-Don’t call m-me k-kid.”, and it’s the only thing Peter can lets out before fully starting to cry. Small hiccups escaping his lips.

Tony watches in horror, unable to do much. “Peter, im begging you- stop crying, im not mad, you’re- kid I-”, the man starts and if he wasn’t so much in pain, Peter would have been genially shocked to see Tony struggling so much to speak. “Stop ca-calling me a kid!”, the boy almost screams, surprising both himself and Tony. The man steps back again. There’s a silence. A loud one. A painful one.

“Im sorry. It’s my fault if you thought- Jesus, it’s my fault if you mistook this, Peter. Im sorry I let you think this was a… a date. You can’t- it’s not on you, Im not mad.”, Tony speaks again. But it’s only words. Peter’s brain shut himself. He doesn’t understand what Tony is saying to him. He just wants to die.

“But- But I lo-”, he starts, desperately, only to get cut by the man in front of him again. “No. No you don’t. You- Jesus ki- Pete, it’s not-” and there’s a silence again. “It’s not wh-what ? True ? H-How would you know ? And wh-why… what was al-all of this for if-if it was- n’t a.. a da-date ?”, the boy desperately questions, in between cries. Tony’s pained expression intensifies. “Pete, stop crying.”.

“Answer me!”, the younger one screams. He can’t believe Tony. It’s not true. Tony is just being- delusional.

“Christ why are you doing this ? Peter, it was just- just… us.”. Peter never heard Tony’s voice sounding so desperate before today. But he can’t care. He feels like he’s been crushed by a fucking plane right now.

“Us ? Ye-yeah and Im- im saying that us, is me lo-lo-loving you and you- you looking at me with- with that look in your eyes.”. And Peter can sees Tony’s eyes watering. Again, it’d be the first time he sees Tony crying, but he still can’t care. The man just steps back and sighs, passing both of his hands on his face.

“You stopped calling me ki-kid. And- and you order for me- and- and sh-shit! I- I know you like it. I know i-it because I can se-see it, mr. Stark. I- I want- I want you… pl-please.”, Peter cries even harder now, his voice constantly cut by cries. “Please.”, he begs again. And it’s even more painful because Tony doesn’t answers anything. The man just stand in front if him, completely frozen, with a pained expression on his face. But he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t deny it. Why doesn’t he deny it ?

And suddenly, Tony’s warms hands are on his cheeks, trying to wipes the endless tears coming out of Peter’s eyes. But the sensation of the hand on his cheeks only makes Peter cry more. “Peter… Peter, baby.. please. You- fuck. You have to stop, alright ?”, Tony whispers, so close to him, but yet so far. baby.

Peter doesn’t realize he leans on the touch, he doesn’t realize Tony’s other hand is clenching hard on his light blue jacket. And despite everything that is happening right now, Peter only wants them to kiss. A real kiss.

But the next thing he feels is Tony’s strong body against him. The man is hugging him and Peter can’t help but hug him back, his cries still loudly getting out. “Peter, please. I can’t. You know I can’t. Im so sorry. I shouldn’t have invited you, I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have let myself- I can’t.”, Tony murmurs those things in Peter’s ear, tightening his arm around the boy’s body and it only hurts Peter more. Why is Tony saying all of this ? What does it mean ?

“Please…”. It’s all what Peter is capable to say. Please love me. He feels Tony’s body, Tony’s warmth getting away and hates it. And the boy can’t take it. It hurts so much. So before Tony can even answer with another apologize, Peter’s wrists move on their own, and the next second he’s not there anymore, he’s on the top of the building next to the restaurant. He has to get away from Tony. He can’t stay there.

And if Peter hasn’t jumped on another building right away, he would have been able to hear Tony whispering on his own. “Pete… I wished you’d understand why this can’t be a date, why I can’t let you love me back.”, finally letting himself cry now that Peter ran away.

second square for @starkerfestivals 🙈🙈

alright so first of all im so sorry for this fjndldl 😭😭😭 this bingo is challenging me so much tho bc i wrote my first tony fucking peter and now i wrote my first sad ending

its just the first thing that came to my mind seeing ‘not a date’ so i followed my idea

also i edited it three fucking times bc tumblr was being a bitch with me today 🔪

#starker #ironspider #leah writes sometimes #starkerfestival summer bingo #starkerfestivals #starkerfestivalsevents #sfsummerbingo21

51 notes · View notes

redwinterroses · 3 years

Note

Could you do something with 3rd Life Joel?

Harley I saw your reply on my 2AM post last night and YES the weird Joel thing IS from your ask. XD I had no idea what to do with this originally because Joel has a lot of good moments but I really wasn't in the mood to do much angsty with him (Joel kind of... exudes anti-angst. He's just so factual about everything and the sarcasm is Off The Charts. I love it.)

But I was getting ready to sleep and randomly scrolled past a post about the myth of Black Shuck and the Wild Hunt and my brain was suddenly possessed by a wild spirit of fanfiction so.... Here. Have this Very Odd piece.

(It works best if you read it in a messy Irish accent, lol.)

(also this may be a lead-up to my Trickster God Scar and Archangel Grian thing someday. We'll see.)

~*~

The Wild Hunt

Listen here, child, and I’ll tell ya a tale: the tale of the Wolf King, and a Wild Hunt.

What? Ya know the story? Sit down and hush—you ain’t heard it the way I’ll tell it. And I should know: I seen him myself.

Would ya call yer old granny a liar? For shame. Sit down, you. Eat yer cookie. Listen.

(don’t pinch yer brother, ya nugget, or no more cookies for you.)

He were born out of flames and fire and smoke, y’see. Born when he died, t’be fair, but born in fire all the same. ‘Twas the Grave Maiden what set his roof aflame, she an’ her undead hoard, and of course the Trickster was there as well—fat lot o’ good that did the Wolf King. But he chose his bed, and he laid in it, and we all reap his dreams thereafter.

So there he were, all newly grey and smoulderin’ and his eyes a’burnt like coals and fire and his belly growlin’ for revenge. But he weren’t the Wolf King, not yet—he were then only a lowly red, with naught but one life—like you or me.

(how’d he start with more than one? Well he were a god, weren’t he? Or he were meant to be. No, I don’t know who choses them things—prob’ly the Archangel but don’t tell the cleric you heard that from me. He don’t like me puttin’ the Angel over the Trickster or the Red King. Clerics don’t have much imagination, y’see.)

So what did he do with his one life? With his one, bloody, beatin’ red heart? “Well,” he says, he says to himself, “I need me an army, if I’m gonna take down the Grave Maiden.”

(Shush, child, don’t spoil the story. Yer brother don’t know how it ends.)

“I need me an army,” says he. “But no one will ally with me, and if they did: I’d kill them anyway—” y’see, he had taste for blood, woke with it in his teeth, like any good wolf. “—I’d kill them anyway, the whole world is my enemy.”

So instead of allies, he went to the wolves. And he went to the great da wolf and the great mam wolf, and he says to them, he says: “Give me some of yer children, to fight in my wars.”

And of course the wolves said that was crazy, they weren’t gonna send their children off with some grey-faced red-lifer on a quest to fight the gods. But the Wolf King—

(No, he weren’t the Wolf King yet. No, I don’t know what he were called before. He didn’t matter before.)

The Wolf King—who wasn’t the Wolf King yet—bared his bloody teeth at them wolves and growled at them and said in the words of wolves that they could send their children with him, or he could take ‘em on his own.

Now, wolves is wise—remember that, nugget—wolves is wise, and wolves is knowing. And they looked at this red in front of them and they were knowing that he weren’t lying. And they looked at this red and they were wise and said “Fine, alright, you can take any of ourn that’ll go with ye.”

“Fair enough,” says he. And wolf pups ain’t so wise and so knowing as their parents—remember that, nugget, parents know more’n you give ‘em grief for—so he left with his army: a passel o’ young, foolish wolves.

(Well. Some might say they was foolish. Some might say they was grand and brave and the best wolves to be born on this earth. Some might say that they can be both. Don’t ya go askin’ the cleric though.)

So there he be, this Wolf King and his pack. His army: his teeth and his claws. And now, on moonless nights, ye can hear ‘em: forever huntin’ for the Grave Maiden and her Fallen One and her hordes—she’s his sworn enemy, ya know. But that don’t stop him fightin’ with the other gods too.

He loves to chase the Red King over the mountains—sometimes ya can hear them in the night, howlin’ back and forth at each other, the wolves runnin’ the King and his Hand over the peaks and into the desert dunes. And sometimes the Red King comes after him and the pack too, o’course, but that’s a story for another night and older ears. It’s a bit too sad for cookies by the fire.

(No, love—yer mum’d kill me if I sang the Fall of the Wolf King with yer brother here. He’s too young for that tale.)

He’ll never defeat the Grave Maiden, and he’ll never catch the Red King, and he’ll never burn down all the Flower Kingdom no matter how many times he tries: that’s the nature o’ the gods, y’see, and it’s what makes us happier creatures. ‘Cause they can never finish their stories—they’re trapped in a forever dance of give and take, alliance and war, love and hate. But it’s all real, an’ it’s all true.

And believe me or not but cross my one bleedin’ heart and hope to die (that’s another thing not to repeat in front o’ the cleric, ya hear me, child?): I seen him.

I seen the Wolf King. Just once, but that were enough.

I seen him under the moonlight, racin’ across the moors with his bayin’ army at his back an’ at his front an’ all around him: a sea of white fur, frothin’ about like foam on the surf. All their eyes were burnin’ in the moonlight—I swear it on the Dragon herself. Burnin’ red, they was, like the very flames the Grave Maiden lit. They looked right at me, and I knew—I knew I were his next kill.

(The Wolf King ain’t nice, child. Of course he ain’t nice. He’s mad is what he is. And madmen don’t make for good people to meet when you’re crossing the moors alone of a night, on yer way home from a dance in Crastleton.)

(What do ya mean ya don’t want a sad story? The sad part’s over, child—clearly I didn’t get gobbled up by the Wolf King’s pack, or else who’d be here tellin’ ya this story now, I ask ya? Sit back down with yer sister and listen.)

So I seen him over the crest of the hill, with the moon a silver ha’penny in the sky above and the stars all a-glimmer and a-shinin’ like the lights of the Widow’s crown. And they came down the hill and they swept over me—all them wolves, all glory and soft and fang and hot breath on me face and I closed me eyes—I did!—and just waited for them to gobble me up.

But ya know what happened instead? ‘Course you don’t, that’s why I’m tellin’ ya. Instead o’ teeth and claws and my one life bleedin’ out on the moor… I hears a voice.

No, he didn’t say nothin’, it weren’t words. The Wolf King don’t use human words no more.

But he were laughin’.

Imagine that! Imagine me, not so much older than you, love, alone out on the moor and ringed about by the Wolf King’s army all a’swirlin’ and boundin’ around me: and the Wolf King laughs.

I couldn't help meself, though I'll never know why: but I laughed too.

And then he grabbed me by me arm and we ran.

Oh, my children. If I live to be a thousand I’ll never forget that night.

(Don’t you repeat this to the cleric. Or yer mother. They both think I’m dotty as a bat as it is.)

The Wolf King and his pack run faster than birds can fly—faster than horses, faster than hounds. Faster than I could run, even then: but it didn’t matter. They carried me along, light as a feather and more nimble than a hare. Over the mountain, down the vale, through the ruins of the Flower Kingdom—yes, I’ve seen the Flower Kingdom, but only by moonlight and we didn’t stop, but I heard later that there was fires again so he must have gotten his bite at the Widow and the Soldier when I weren’t lookin’.

And all the while, the whole pack was howlin’. Howlin’ like the front gale of a nor’easter comin’ up the coast: the wolves was howlin’, and the King was howlin’, and Void take me if I weren’t howlin’ too, just like this—

(Oh hush, child, that weren’t even so loud. End’s all, if you ain’t a skittish little creature—get back here and eat another cookie.)

We ran all night, runnin’ and howlin’ and leavin’ fire and fang in our wake. But it couldn’t last forever, as the Wolf King only wanted me runnin’ with him as long as it was sportin’, and even with the wolves carryin’ me along I did get tired. More tired than I’ve ever been before or since, I don’t mind tellin’ ya.

So come mornin’, come dawnin’ of the next day’s sun, I find myself back on the road to Crastleton. My dress were in tatters and my feet were a bleedin’ mess of cuts and blisters that never did hurt, my hair tangled with wind knots and wolf hair, and my throat hoarse from howlin’.

And just before he left, him swirlin’ about with a millin’ mess of wolves around his feet, the Wolf King looked at me—looked at me, I tell ya—and gave me a grin that were full of as many teeth as there are leaves in a tree. He tossed me this, and then he were gone—sweeping up and away off the moor like nothing more than a ghost in a dream.

(Here, look at it. What do you think it is? I’ve always said it’s a claw, but what kinda creature has silver claws, I ask you? Give that back to me now, child—it hasn’t left me side in six times so long as you’ve been alive, and it’ll be buried with me if I can get someone other than the cleric to do the job.)

So of course the Wolf King is real! And so the Trickster and the Archangel and the Grave Maiden and the Widow and the Soldier and the Red King and the Hand and all the rest of them. If ye’re very, very good, and very, very lucky, mayhap you’ll even see them one day.

Because of course, they might be gods, child. But in one way, they’re just like you and me: they’ve got but one life—red and bloodied and barin’ their teeth.

And the Wolf King runs forever, chasing after the Grave Maiden and her Fallen One and even the Traitor when the mood strikes him. He’ll never catch her, but she’ll never outrun him either. The Wolf King hunts forever.

Now—you finish up that cookie and run outside. I hear your mama callin’ for you. And remember: we don’t tell Mama anything Granny says about the cleric, alrighty?

Alrighty.

Goodnight, children—sleep tight; don’t let the phantoms bite.

And just maybe—if you’re real, real quiet—you might hear the howling.

Howl back.

#i take the 'you could make a religion out of this' meme as a personal challenge #two fics in one day? more likely than you think #the funny part is how it took DAYS to write Impulse's Sweet Dreams fic and this weird thing took less than two hours #such is the writer brain #redwinterwrites #3rd life smp #3rd life fanfiction #smallishbeans #3rd life joel #folklore au

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izur-x · 3 years

Text

Thunderstorm

Pairing ~ nagito/reader

Genre + warning ~ comfort, vent(?), Fluff, Anxiety, panic attack, killing game, swearing, A LITTLE SPICY 😊.

Summary ~ an unusual happen in the island, a thunderstorm. It's very VERY unusual, since komaeda got tied up......let's see what is going to happen( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Note ~ this is an apologies for everyone who read and cried about my one-shot about komaeda

"is it just me or the weather seem off today."

"now that you mention it, it is weird...." You said, monomi pop up out of nowhere, "everyone! Seems like there will be a storm! Please return to individual rooms or cottage before the storm hit!" Monomi announced.

Everyone panic, and begin to pack some food and drinks. You had this feeling....you seem to forget about something, but you don't know what it is, you shrug the feelings away.

You go to the market and grab supplies so you don't get bored, and just in case...you grab a raincoat and an umbrella, "alright, let's leave and head to cottage." The previous feelings...it keeps stronger, you grow uncomfortable while walking.

As you arrived at your cottage, you now remember what is missing...seems everyone forget about it too.."that's right! We forgot about komaeda! Shittt." The storm had just begun, "FUCKING SHIT, THIS IS WHY I HATE STORMS."

"But I can't just leave him in a place like that—" you have no choice, you keep repeating in your head that you were going to regret this over and over again. You put on some raincoat that you purchase and go outside.

The wind was strong, the lightning strike's causing you to flinch, you ran to the cabin, luckily, it's wasn't far away. You finally arrived at the cabin, and quickly go to the place where Byakuya killed.

As you open the door, you see the white-haired boy, laying on the ground, shivering, he looks so helpless.. "ah...(l/n)..of course, you d—" "komaeda! Sorry, but let's go to my cottage, we have no time."

Because he's being tied up, it's hard to figure out to carry him to your cottage, but in the end, it works. But you two now we're all wet, "hey nagito, I will bring you your clothes, wait okay?" Nagito nodded, your head outside and go to his cottage, and grab some of his clothes.

As you return to your cottage and see nagito with no shirt. Just a towel to hide his male reproduction. "Oh! Your back, thank you l/n! I truly didn't deserve this." "Oh please! It's fine, also, call me y/n!" Nagito smile "okay! Call me nagito!" You nodded and give him his clothing and wait for him to finish changing.

As nagito come out of the bathroom, it's your turn to change, so you did. You come out of the bathroom, and see nagito sitting on the floor, "nagito, you don't have to sit down on the floor." "No no, it's fine like this, besides it's your cottage..."

You sigh, "it's fine, I don't mind if you sit on my bed, also I need to get your wrists to bandage from the chain." You grab the bandage and begin to bandaging his wrists. "Alright! It's done." "Thank you, y/n, I don't deserve..." "Shush, you deserve this, I don't want to see you being treated so awful."

"Y/n..." "No need to thank me, here, let me dry your hairs." I put on a fresh towel and put it onto his wet hairs, and I busy drying his hair, I didn't know that we were too close. His eyes were locked into you and stared at it.

"And done, I will out this towel away–" before you could get up, nagito hug you and accidentally pinned you down, "w-woah! Nagito?!" "Why are you so kind to me..." "H-huh? What do you mean?" "You treated me like I was someone special...judging how you act to others and how you act around me..."

"U-uhm—" "a-ah! Sorry for making you uncomfortable." He relies upon the hug but still pinned you down on the bed. You notice that he was....crying "h-hey, nagito, are you alright?" You placed your palm into his cheeks and gently wipe his tears.

"I-I'm fine, don't worry." He looks directly at you "how come you didn't scared of me?" "Uhm, I don't know?" He kinda surprised of your answer, I'm pretty sure that he could tell if you are lying or not.

"Oh, alright then—" lightning strike causing the power outages. You were scared of the thunder but seeing nagito from the bottom and the light source from the thunder/lightning from outside through the window.

From nagito perspective, being on top of you, seeing you under him making his heart skip a beat, his eyes locked into your lips.

"Umh...nagito are you alright? Yo-you've been staring at my lips for the last two minutes— are yo-mhp—" nagito lips crash into your, you swear you hear him saying sorry, the kiss turns out longer, as you both pull apart.

You two we're heavily breathing and gasping, "I-I'm sorry- but I could help it—" "its fine, nagito, I...don't mind.." 'Besides...I love you...'

"You love me?" His eyes were widened "no, I suppose, I already knew about this...despite how you act around me." your cheeks became hot, your mind was fizzy, couldn't process any of what he said.

"Y/n." "Y-yes nagito?" He smiled softly "thank you, and I truly doesn't deserve this but, I love you." He laid down beside you and hold you tightly, making you comfortable with the pressure.

"Love you too, nagito."

Side note ~ YEY ITS DONE, ALSO I MADE A LOT OF MISTAKE IN THIS FANFICTION 😍💔 hope you enjoyed this, I've been able to finish this at 1 am, smh

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m00nycore · 4 years

Text

𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝘼𝙇𝙇 𝙊𝙁 𝙈𝙔 𝙎𝙏𝙐𝙋𝙄𝘿 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙏 ;; 𝙤𝙣𝙚 .

𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 .

𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝙤𝙘 (𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙪𝙥 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨)

𝙩/𝙬 : 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙩𝙤𝙭𝙞𝙘 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛. 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.

𝙏𝘼𝙂𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏 ;; @dreaming-about-fanfictions @aesthetic-el

Her room became a prison.

Persephone tried in vain not to cry herself to sleep the first night she spent trapped in the manor. No, she told herself, you’re too strong for that.

But she wasn’t. She vomited the very minute Draco left her alone in the room. She had to assist in killing Dumbledore. The Dark Mark painted her forearm. It was too much for her.

Her step-mother had arranged for her favorite house elf, Poppy, to bring her belongings to her new, overly spacious room. It had been quite the fight for her to be able to keep Poppy with her- until Narcissa Malfoy agreed, on the condition that Poppy helped to maintain the house while Persephone was absent.

She sat on the edge of the bed, Poppy organizing her things, while her hairless cat, Aegis, laid curled on her lap.

“Poppy,” she murmured, the elf immediately running towards her.

“Yes, Mistress Persephone?” she wondered, her giant eyes full of love and respect.

“Just Persephone,” she gently reminded the elf; she knew it was hard for her to correct that. “You don’t have to put my things away, dear. I can do it myself… would you sit with me?”

Poppy hopped onto the bed, and Persephone leaned on her. In some ways, Poppy was the mother she never had. In other ways, Poppy was like a best friend, or a little sister.

“Poppy,” Persephone whispered, tears collecting in her eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

“What’s the matter, ma’am?” Poppy wondered, alarm written over her features. “Did Poppy do-?”

“Poppy, you’ve never given me a problem for as long as you have lived,” she pulled the elf into a hug, which she returned. “Poppy, do you promise me to keep a secret? Even from the Malfoy’s?”

“Ms. Persephone has my word!” she exclaimed, full of determination.

Persephone sighed, absentmindedly stroking a sleeping Aegis. “Poppy, I’m getting married now,” she showed her the extravagant ring, making her friend’s eyes widen.

“Congratulations, ma’am!” she exclaimed. “To Mister Malfoy?” she inquired, curiosity and innocence laced in her tone.

“Yes…,” Persephone confirmed. “But I don’t love him. I was forced into this. Honestly, I used to hate him in school… we haven’t talked civilly in… I don’t remember when.”

Poppy frowned. “Why is Ms. Persephone being forced to marry? Poppy doesn’t understand.”

“Apparently, our parents agreed… but, Poppy… here’s when it gets to be a bigger secret… Draco has been tasked by the Dark Lord to kill Dumbledore,” Poppy gasped at her statement. “And I… have to help him. They made me a Death Eater,” she showed her forearm, still red hot and painful. “Poppy, I can’t do it. I don’t want to. But if I don’t…”

Tears pooled in Poppy’s eyes. “They may kill Ms. Persephone!” she wailed. “Poppy doesn’t want Ms. Persephone to die! Poppy loves Ms. Persephone!”

Persephone gathered Poppy in her arms again, shushing her. “Poppy, I love you too… I’m more worried about them hurting you to hurt me,” it was true, it had definitely crossed her mind. Her love for her house elf was apparent, and they could very well use that against her. It wasn’t like she cared about any harm coming to others. Persephone cared about Poppy and herself. Self-preservation might be selfish of her, but she simply didn’t care. She wouldn’t have the Dark Lord kill her.

“Ms. Persephone should never worry about Poppy!”

She smiled sadly at her. Poppy was loyal to a fault, but she was the only being alive she considered family. Her father was a monster, as well as her step-mother.

“Ms. Persephone looks ill,” Poppy said. “Does Ms. Persephone need something to eat?”

“No,” she responded. Truthfully, she hadn’t eaten all day. Nor did she yesterday, when she had received her assignment. The Malfoy’s hadn’t seen her since. She imagined Draco was isolating himself, as well. She wouldn’t blame him.

A knock sounded at her door, and Poppy quickly jumped off the bed, running to finish putting clothes away.

“Poppy, stop, I’ll help,” she told her, in a whisper. “Just stay there, please. I need you,” Poppy nodded. “Come in,” she responded, in a voice that betrayed none of her turmoil.

Narcissa Malfoy entered the room, with all the grace and authority she was raised to aspire to. She was absolutely beautiful, and she seemed kinder than the other women she had encountered in the circle, purely because of her obvious love and devotion to her son.

“Hello, Mrs. Malfoy,” she greeted, wondering why she had come to see her.

She nodded, crossing the room and taking a seat on the plush couch.

“You haven’t been eating,” she stated. “You shouldn’t starve yourself.”

Persephone couldn’t muster a reply. Narcissa continued. “You were unaware of your betrothal to my son,” it was a statement rather than a question. She paused. “You two are just children.”

Persephone heard the sorrow in her voice. She was worried for her son more than anything, she knew, but was Narcissa concerned for her?

“I,” she began, locking eyes with Poppy, who looked anxiously at her. “I’m being rude… thank you, Mrs. Malfoy, for allowing me to stay in your home and for me to bring my dearest Poppy along with me.”

Narcissa spared a glance at Poppy, who bowed to her.

“I supposed you needed some sort of comfort,” she told her. “So you genuinely were never told of your betrothal?”

Persephone locked eyes with her. “I wasn’t, ma’am, no.”

Narcissa looked towards the window. “I was always fond of your mother… and I was distraught to hear about her passing,” she said it as delicately and discreetly as possible, considering the circumstances behind her death. “I watched you grow up. I knew you were clever… you never played with Draco or the other children… you observed. You read books.”

Persephone was at a loss for words. She had no clue where her soon-to-be mother-in-law was going with this.

“I love my son,” she stated. “I love him more than anything. You know, you’re like your mother… in more than just looks. I expected you to be a Ravenclaw,” another pause. “My dear,” Narcissa stood, tears in her eyes, and sat next to her. “I care for my son, and I care for you as his fiancée. Persephone, as a mother, I am not only concerned for him, but for you. You don’t have anyone left… but, however you feel, you have Draco now. Persephone, I beg of you… help him. Protect him.”

Persephone stared down at Aegis, regretting that her hands were always so cold on her hairless skin.

“I will,” she whispered.

Narcissa nodded, and walked to the door. “You’re welcome to leave the room, to walk around the manor or the gardens,” without another word, she left.

Her mother had once told her a story when she was little.

“Do you know why you were named Persephone?”

The five-year-old considered. She wasn’t fond of her name. It sounded silly, and once Draco made fun of her so much that she cried. She liked her middle name, Wren, better.

“I don’t know, mommy. I hate my name,” she pouted.

Her mother laughed, gentle, stroking her daughter’s hair and snuggling her closer in the plush bed.

“There’s an old Greek story about Persephone,” her mother began. The child perked up. “You were named after a goddess.”

“A goddess?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “The story isn’t completely happy, but it teaches an important lesson.

Persephone was a beautiful goddess, the goddess of spring. Her mother’s name was Demeter. Demeter and Persephone loved each other and would spend lots of time playing and dancing through the meadows. Demeter loved her daughter almost as much as I love you,” Persephone giggled, snuggling closer to her mother. She continued. “But, one day, Hades, the god of the Underworld, saw Persephone and fell in love with her beauty… so, he had her kidnapped and brought to the Underworld with him.”

The child gasped in horror, eyes widening.

“Demeter grew very sad. Almost as sad as I would be if I lost you. She searched the earth for her daughter, and the plants and crops stopped growing. Demeter was the goddess of agriculture. Humans grew hungry and starved because she wasn’t helping anything grow.

One day, Hermes, messenger of the gods, saw the misery Demeter felt, and he told Zeus, the king of the gods, to bring her back. Zeus demanded Hades return Persephone, who was pale and sick, but something bad had happened. Persephone ate pomegranate seeds in the Underworld, and if you eat there, you must stay there. Zeus decided that for half of the year, Persephone would stay in the Underworld with Hades, and the other half of the year, she would stay with her mother. So, when Persephone was on earth, it was spring and summer. When she wasn’t, it was fall and winter.”

Persephone looked up at her mother, brow creased with concern. “Mommy, that’s too sad. Why did you name me after something sad? I never want to leave you ever, ever, ever!”

She smiled at her child, with all of the love and adoration in the world. “Oh, my sweet baby… you will never leave me, nor will I leave you. I named you Persephone for a few reasons. One, you reminded me of beauty and springtime as soon as you were born. Your hair and eyes are as dark as mine, but you are vibrant and sunny, even in the cold. But the biggest reason, my love, is because nothing and no one will ever compare to the love I have for you. I love you more than anything in the world.”

Persephone jumped onto her mom, hugging her tight. “I love you more, mommy!”

“I love you more!”

“No, I love you more!”

She dissolved into giggles as her mom began tickling her, once again telling her she loved her more.

Persephone was lost in the memory, walking through the gardens. She wasn’t springtime, no, not anymore. She was only Persephone to her mother, and the people she had to act in front of. No, she was Wren now. Wren was pale and wan, battered and self-serving. Wren was a Slytherin, she lost the kindness she had carried before.

She only cared for what she knew was right, what she knew was worth fighting for.

The Malfoy’s gardens were spectacular, plants and statues well cared for, the scent of fruits in the trees and the perfume of flowers thick in the air. She wandered, in the warm night, dressed in her silk pajama shorts and matching top, trying in vain not to think of the hell she was living in.

She stared at the magnificent fountain with the strange urge to drown in it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a new presence.

Draco walked up to her, in a black suit, an impassive expression drawn on his features.

He stood by her, neither looking at each other or saying a word.

“You aren’t wearing the ring,” Draco was the one to break the silence.

“No, I’m not.”

There was silence again.

She took his hand, which he shook away.

“What are you doing?” he nearly spat, disgust on his features.

She exhaled out of her nose. “Practicing. Didn’t you hear him? Hogwarts needs to see the happy couple.”

“I’m surprised that you’re even going to go through with any of this,” he commented.

She considered, finally looking at him. He was pale in the moonlight. He didn’t look well, either. He looked back, eyes falling to her bare arms, the Dark Mark covered with bandages that Poppy helped her with.

“I’m a selfish person, Draco. I don’t fancy dying. Nor do I fancy helping you to spill blood that doesn’t deserve to be spilled.”

Draco scoffed. “You’re just a blood traitor like your mother,” he sneered. “It’s exactly why I didn’t want this betrothal. Not with the likes of you.”

She glared at him, a hard set to her mouth, and began to walk away.

“Where are you going?”

She whirled around, tears threatening to form in her eyes. “If we’re suddenly so fond of speaking ill of one’s dead parent, I’ll make do with calling your father the biggest prat on the planet- he got what he deserved and I have no qualms hoping that you’ll be next, you twat.”

With that, she resumed her walk back to the manor, until Draco called out.

“Bardick,” he only ever addressed her by her surname. He walked up to her. She had stopped walking but still faced away.

She felt something press into her hand. A green apple.

“Eat. If you starve to death, it’ll ruin the mission.”

He walked by her, quickly, making his own way back to the manor.

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