#but she’s too boring for my brain to be able to latch on to perfectly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

greywritesfics · 4 years

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One Day At A Time

Overview: The moment you first saw Shinso’s performance at the first year Sports Festival set off a chain of fateful interactions and an unrequited declaration of rivalry. Now, as you stand hand in hand with your husband-to-be, you can’t help but think back to everything that brought you here.

Pairing: Shinso Hitoshi x Reader

Word Count: 3741

Genre: Scenario, Fluff

A/N: I had so much fun writing this for the POCuties Server Collab: ‘A Wedding to Remember!’ My heart went binkie boom doom. I hope you all enjoy best boi Shinso!! And thank you to @tui-lah for beta reading, I appreciate it! You can find the rest of everyone’s amazing works here.

The flowers entwined between your fingers twinge with sweat from your palms as the beating of your heart ran a mile a minute. Exhaling a breath, you briefly glanced at the bouquet of beautifully arranged flowers before the double doors broke you from your reverie. On either side stood your best friend, Mina, in a beautiful gown that accentuated her figure, and Kaminari, your husband-to-be’s best friend.

Mina beamed, the black sclera of her eyes twinkling as she caught onto the small sigh of contentment that left your lips as you basked in the physique of the love of your life in a tuxedo at the end of the peddle-filled aisle. The light reflected from the vibrant bouquet, which made you look dazzling in the spotlight. Carrying on an otherworldly trance before the two left your side, not before the blonde sent you subtle thumbs up.

Facing your groom, your eyes roamed his figure, giving him a once-over. The tuxedo hugged him perfectly, highlighting his broad shoulders and slim build. The black of his suit had a velvet quality to it, and brought something out of him, a self-respecting pride and confidence that had you nibbling your bottom lip.

“Oh, hello, Mr. Bond,” you whispered with a cheeky grin. You couldn’t help yourself, Shinso looked like the perfect action man with a license to thrill. His typically messy indigo hair was slicked back, or at least tried to be, you had to give him an ‘A’ for the effort. You peaked at the tips that were haphazardly pushed back, intertwining into a beautiful chaos-- you’d fix it later into his naturally ruffled tufts.

You heard a breathy snort from the man across you. Looking up, your eyes latched onto an all-too-familiar pair of glaciers that resembled hyacinths and the lazy-smirk that had the corner of your eyes softening.

Shinso reaches out to you as soon as the one to wed you both begins to speak, his calloused hands holding yours. It’s funny actually, as you gaze at your intertwined hands and the paleness of his skin of how the two of you ended up in the aisle together, rings readied to be worn, and a life promised to spend together forever.

You remembered it like it was just yesterday.

After his fight with Midoriya during the first year Sports Festival, you left the stands to find the General Studies student in the hall. Luckily for you, you saw him in no time, the striking lavender hair and familiar U.A. uniform that he wore was hard to miss. You quickly fell into step with his languid steps.

“Shinso Hitoshi, right? I’m (L/N) (Y/N), nice to meet you.”

With his ashy lilac and deeply sunken eyes, he faced you with a bored expression on his face. “Okay.”

The two of you walk in silence for at least a few minutes, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck before he speaks. “Uh--” he clears his throat a little awkwardly, “why are you following me?” It was a simple question, not one that harbored an accusing tone, and you were almost shocked by the fact that he made no effort to chase you away.

“Oh shit,” you cursed, smacking your forehead, having forgotten to announce the reason why you followed him in the first place. “My bad, dude, I can’t believe I forgot. You’re my rival.”

“What?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows, his pace slowing even more until they stopped.

“Rival, y’ know where two people compete for the same objective or superiority.”

He clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes, “I know what a rival is, but why are you declaring that you’re mine.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. You thought that at this point, it was obvious enough for him to catch on. Maybe he was a bit slow; the bags under his eyes may have killed a couple of brain cells over the years. “‘Cause we have the same goal,” you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. “We want to prove everyone who doubts us wrong.” Mich like him, growing up with an ‘evil’ Quirk, you’ve had a fair share of gossip surrounding you. That’s why you wanted to be a hero, to end the discrimination against labeling Quirks as villainous.

“Really?” he paused, “what would a student from the heroics course know about being deemed as a criminal.” One look into his eyes, and you already knew. The bitterness in his orbs was unmistakable.

“More than you know,” you murmured, refusing to break eye contact.

The mauve haired boy’s uninterested expression softened at the dispute in your eyes, the corner of his mouth tugging into a small grin. Looking at you properly this time, like he really saw you as a person, not just some random stranger that decided to follow him around.

“Sorry, but no,” Shinso stated, the usual indifference lacing his tone, the smile falling from his face. “I’m not looking to make friends or rivals.”

You giggled mischievously at him, the purple of his eyes side-eyeing you with weariness. “You’re cute,” you state bluntly, bouncing on the balls of your feet. His expression is replaced with a gawk at the pure boldness from you, red splotching on the apple of his cheeks. “You actually think you have a choice! See ya soon, rival!”

With that, you turn on your heel, searching for your homeless-looking homeroom teacher. You have the perfect recommendation for an intern.

“(L/N)?” he demanded, stunned by your sudden appearance.

You turned your head from your position on the floor, stretching, glancing toward his direction. “Hey, rival.” The boy looked slightly different from the last time you had seen him, with a bandage-like material wrapped around his neck, similar to Aizawa’s.

Hopping onto your feet, you brushed the dust off your hands, walking onto the mat placed in the middle of the gym as Aizawa spoke up. “Shinso, you’re training with (L/N) today. It’s a joint training to access your weaknesses, first to get knocked down or pushed off the mat loses,” he said, his expression never changing.

Bending down a bit, you prepared to make a move before the boy with lavender hair stopped you in your footsteps. “How the hell did you get Aizawa-sensei to agree to this?” he asked with an amused look in his eyes.

Smirking, you peered up through your lashes, looking at him with faux innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Yes, you do. At the Sports Festival, you told Aizawa about the general studies student, but Aizawa was already aware of the male since he had taken note of him. Unsurprisingly to you, your teacher decided to mentor the student, and it took a lot of bribing and coaxing for you to convince him to join just one training session, but that’s all you needed.

You stiffened immediately, your eyes glazing over as you become immobile, not even able to process or think properly. You watch the white of your rival’s teeth move, and the next thing you know, you blink, conscious, and off the mat. The stoic male wore a bored expression on his face as your eyes widen in realization, he just brainwashed you.

It was as if a match sparked over you as you glared at him. Lunging forward instantly, taking the purple-haired boy by surprise, you brought your leg up to kick him in the shin as he lost balance. Without giving him a chance to catch his breath, you pounced, both arms wrapping around his torso as you tackled him, or at least tried to. It seemed that Aizawa had been training his student well because the tackle didn’t do anything besides move him backward. Quickly, you leaped back, creating a space.

The boy’s ruffled hair from his night’s sleep and current fight had strands sticking together, slick with sweat. “What, that’s all you got?” Shinso asked, but you bit back a sharp remark, refusing to take the bait again.

Failing to evade the knee that came straight for your abdomen, the impact knocked you back slightly but lacked to knock you down. You were taken aback by his speed and accuracy, and for a second, you wanted to smile at the growth of the male that stood in front of you, it was like he wasn’t the same boy that had lost to Midoriya.

Focusing on the match at hand, you dodged his next onslaught of attacks, moving efficiently to evade them with the slight knowledge of his fighting style from the Sports Festival. Thanking yourself for forcing all those hours you spent training your physical abilities, you moved forward the moment you noticed Shinso starting to take labored breaths from his never-ending assaults. However, before you could even register what was happening, Shinso loosened the material around his neck, effectively capturing you amid some ridiculously strong bandages. With the help of the capture tape, he swung you around, gathering momentum before releasing you. Before you were thrown off the mat, though, you grabbed the white scarf and pulled yourself safely in bounds.

With record speed, you raced across to meet Shinso, the capture material moving forward to shield its wielder from an attack, but you abruptly shot your arm up, tensing the male’s muscles you pushed it out of your way, continuing your route to the lilac haired male. Using your remaining strength before your sight dotted from vertigo, a drawback to your Quirk, you used both of your arms to grasp onto his, crouching you flip him over.

Falling flat on the mat, you heaved a breath and closed your eyes to regulate the spottiness surrounding you. When you heard shuffling, you peaked an eye open, pointedly-eyeing the hovering male.

“You’ve gotten better,” you commented.

Shinso let out a soft chuckle. “You’re not half bad,” he countered, crossing his arms before adding, “besides when you became a sore loser and just hopped back in here without a word.”

You gave him a non-threatening pointed look, “hey! I forgot about the brainwashing bit for a second there. Can you blame me?”

Scoffing, you took his outreached hand and pulled yourself up with his combined effort.

“I mean for a rival, that was just sad,” mused Shinso, running a hand through his hair, tufts of purple sticking out in random directions, suiting him.

The corners of your mouth lifted up into a smile, a slight stinging sensation from the cut on your lip from the fight somehow, but you didn’t care as your smile widened into a brilliant grin since Shinso finally acknowledged you. “Rival, huh?” you laughed, feeling absolutely delirious.

After Shinso acknowledged you as his rival, you both became training partners and soon enough close friends. Before either of you knew it, you were already in your second year at U.A., and your purple-haired friend had been accepted into the hero course.

You’re not exactly sure when you started developing feelings for the boy. Maybe it was the moment he exposed his perfectly aligned teeth, glowing with happiness and hope. Or it was his innate ability to spark a conversation with anyone, despite having a reserved and calm attitude. Even stating that he had no interest in making friends, yet you swiveled your way in and surrounded him with support, along with Kaminari, the greenette, Midoriya, and even the cerulean blue-eyed Monoma. Or it’s his aspiration to usurp anyone who walked the same path as him to become a Pro. Either way, there was no denying the flutters roaming around in your stomach.

As you heaved, trying to catch your breath, your exercise friend was doing the same, but talking about something, you weren’t really paying attention to his words. Just hearing his voice made your stomach tingle and your heart beat erratically in your chest so hard that it felt it’d burst. You followed the beads of sweat trickle down his face and run onto his lips, focusing how the red of his tongue would peak out to catch the salty droplets.

When your eyes met, you swore that your heart thumped so hard that it was audible, even for him. His eyes, those deep magenta orbs that could tell a whole story just by looking at them, felt like you were injected with liquid adrenaline into your bloodstream, and the entire zoo grew rampant in your chest. Shinso’s cat-like eyes felt like looking into the sun for too long-- a maze you could get lost in and soon enough be blinded by. He was so effortlessly looking handsome.

And his hands. The same slender ones that have been on you time and time again, training after training. The image of his hands brushing against your own as you walk flickers throughout your mind, growing into a daydream of your own intertwining. Suddenly you speak, “Hitoshi, I like you.”

His eyebrows rose in surprise at your confession, mouth ajar, and hand frozen on his capture material. The intensity of his gaze put a crack in your steely disposition as you glance the other way. “But don’t worry. I don’t expect you to say anything, I just wanted to get that off my chest.

You watched as Shinso grinned, shaking his head in disbelief, his arm rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He wasn’t one to smile much, never having much reason to and the fact that it took too much effort. But every time you spoke, you somehow made the corners of his mouth tug upwards each time. You didn’t merely speak words with no meaning behind. With every word you spoke, they were curt, straight to the point, and your conversations didn’t need the time-consuming falsehood of small talk. So, it was no surprise when you bluntly admit your feelings to your crush.

Like you promised, you never forced Shinso to speak up about your confession, not once asking if he felt the same way. You guys’ relationship continued to grow without a hitch, but that never stopped you from making flirtatious remarks with the male from time to time. A cheeky grin permanently painted across your face every time you were with him.

Scrambling up to your feet, you hurriedly made your way over to him despite your aching muscles. Clasping your hands around his neck in a chock-hold, you used your legs, dropping him on the ground right then and there.

“What were you saying about beating me?” you asked, laughing in between pants.

After three years of regular quirkless and quirkful combat with Shinso, you both had improved drastically every battle with one another. It took you everything to drop him over your shoulder like before, but you collapsed on the ground next to him, panting as soon as you did.

“I’m going to kick your ass,” Shinso retorted, looking at you. Picking up on your exhaustion, he rolled over, immediately entrapping you with his weight as he grabbed both arms with his own, pinning you down.

“That’s not fair! The match was already over,” you pouted, however made no effort to push him off. He grinned, breathing out, his breath fanning over your face. It took mere seconds for him to realize the close proximity of your two faces, his own heating up, instantly taking on a rose hue. He hastily scrambled off of you, looking away as he tried to calm his face.

“Damn, I was hoping to be wrapped in your arms for longer,” you teased, whipping a fake tear delicately from your face.

He coughed at your words, choking on the water as his head snaps at you from the comment, hints of pink still present on his cheek. “Huh? Wha--”

“Relax,” you scoffed, propping yourself up with your elbows. “I’m just fucking with you.” As you made your way to your bags that were thrown onto the floor, you patted the male’s toned back as to acquiesce that everything’s alright. But before you can maneuver around him, Shinso’s hand latches itself on your wrist.

“Wait,” he murmurs, pulling you toward him. You make no move to pull away, feeling safe and secure in his arms, not the edge of intensity that comes with dancing with danger in your daily life as a hero-in-training. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning into Shinso’s embrace, even more, an affectionate smile on his face.

He tugs your cheek softly. “I like you too.” You stay silent, holding your breath as the pad of his thumb brushes against the skin he just pulled, and fingertips lightly grazing your jaw, you find yourself leaning into his palm, the ends of your lips tipping up slightly. You two focus on one another’s eyes, and all your common sense shuts down because the attention he’s giving you his startling, the vibrant violet of his orbs near closer, stealing your breath.

You brought your hands to the back of his neck, and in an instant, his lips found yours with a content sigh. Your eyes flutter shut, and even in darkness, you see light exploding. Although his movements were gentle and slow, his lips were firm, the two of you moving in perfect sync, sending shivers down your back. With each move, the blurred lines of your friendship beginning to clear, forming something new entirely. Parting your lips, you sighed as he slowly pulled away from the kiss, his lips plump and red.

Fluttering your eyes open, you find Hitoshi wearing a sweet smile on his face, filled with affection. His smile was one of happiness growing, much like spring flowers. You could see how it came from deep inside to light his eyes and spread into every part of him. While your heart was pounding, and your lips were still pulsing from the way he kissed you, the silly smile never fell from your face.

“Finally.”

You and Shinso have been dating for five years now, debuting and growing as Pro Heroes. As time passed, your love for him got even stronger. Whenever he looked at you, it was like every ounce of air was taken from your lungs, floating in the sky like a midnight smoke cloud. Every time your lips tangled, the world would stop, leaving just the two of you wandering the earth together. When the two of you cuddle, and he holds your face between his hands, it’s like he’s keeping you in an eternity of security.

When the two of you were patrolling the streets, you came across chaos and panicked citizens. In the distance, there were flickering flames that hinted something deadly.

“Stay near me, (Y/N), and be careful,” Hitoshi announced as you catch up to his hurried pacing, nodding in acknowledgment, walking right into the heat of battle. The scene you were met with was unlike the disarray clues you had witnessed from the running citizens earlier.

All around, you could see the burning of bright orange flames as they devoured everything in their path. Your nose scrunched up in alarm from the smell of charred concrete and ash as they dusted the air. The moment you observed your surroundings, you wished you hadn’t. You narrowed your eyes as a menacing creature hovered around a horde of panicked civilians that desperately tried to scramble away. The beast had an ugly beak head with wings and extra limbs, and bloodlust radiating out of its beady eyes. It’s what every Pro has been acquainted with, a Nomu.

“Ready?” he grunted, quickening his pace to match yours.

“Always,” you answered, reaching out an arm, and in an instant, you immobilized the Nomu-like creature grasping hold of one of the unfortunate bystanders, your boyfriend running by you with his capture scarf in tow.

You rushed over to the person ungracefully falling with its captor. Grabbing the man’s arm, you slung him over your shoulder as you hauled him to safety. The man gasped out a thank you, slumping over a wall a fair distance away from the fighting, trying to catch his breath.

When you ran back into action, you and Hitoshi captured villains, the Nomu, and protected citizens. Multiple other heroes had arrived at the scene at this point, and the creature had been dragged out of by policemen, sirens echoing down the streets.

You had been rambling to your boyfriend about your costume, mentioning that you’d need to see Hatsume soon for some upgrades, but as you glanced over at him, you recognized the far offness in his eyes.

“Hitoshi?” you ask with furrowed brows, snapping your finger in front of him.

He blinks, his hands finding purchase around your waist. He pulls you closer as he nudges his head between your neck, and you wrap your arms around him. “I love you,” he whispers into your hair. Pulling back slightly, he reaches for your hands, interlocking them. A light smile adorned your face as you looked into his unblinking dark purple eyes.

“Will you marry me?”

Now, as you stand in front of your soon to be husband, you feel the way your heartbeat picks up while your lungs fill with more air, but at the same time, you feel incredibly light. This is it. You’re seriously going to marry the love of your life.

There is so much to admire about him like his raw honesty. The way his words spill out real slow as if the truth can take its time. There’s like a force behind them, yet the kind that is respectful and quiet-- an observant and patient determination. He supports your pure, unadulterated personality, the good and bad. But of everything, it was looking in his eyes you loved the most. That’s all you ever needed to connect, just you and him, eyes, no words.

“You may now kiss.”

Shinso ran the tip of his tongue along his lower lip, gently drawing you closer to him, placing both hands on either side of your face. You two share a brief but deep kiss, yet you two are still grinning afterward as cheers from friends and families surround the two of you like magic, causing you to shiver in complete pleasure and ecstasy.

In a world of chaos, the two of you find a place where togetherness means peace, where savage winds cease, and no clouds can block the warmth of the brightening rays.

And neither of you would want to have it any other way.

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hournites · 3 years

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Say that we’ll stay with each other

An aged-up Jealous!Rick hournite fic for @samarasketch

~.~

They grab coffee at the diner to catch up every week. It’s not the only time they see each other, but missions require zero personal life talk for safety, as learned very quickly into their JSA run, and their texts just aren’t sufficient enough for the way they miss each other’s company.

Beth rearranges the cutlery, waiting for Rick as he picks out two desserts from beneath the glass window by the cash. It’s late and quiet, Rick had to work overtime to finish a deadline, so she took a nap at her office until he swung by with his car to pick her up.

The steaming coffee is in front of her, untouched. It’s been a long day and she’s second guessing whether or not caffeine is actually such a good idea after all.

“Wow,” Rick greets her, sliding into the booth across from her. He’s no longer slicking his hair back with gel and the small change makes a massive difference in how he looks. His hair is thick, falling over the front of his face, long enough to frame his eyes. Those eyes are lit up now, bright hazel. They sweep over her, taking everything in like he needs the moment to process.

The silent gesture pushes Beth to look down at herself, wondering if she spilled something or was showcasing a wardrobe malfunction of some kind.

“You look amazing. I noticed before but your jacket was on.”

Beth relaxes, settling against the leather backing of her seat. He grins at her, which she returns easily. Rick is her best friend—has been for a very long time. Her lips curve around the rim of her ceramic mug. “Oh, thank you! I was on my date earlier over lunch. I didn’t want to show up in my lab coat.”

“Right,” he replies. “Dr. Leho, was it?” ” Rick twirls his fork into the perfectly cut marble cake slice on the pretty small plate. “How’d that go?”

Beth suppresses the urge to roll her eyes. “Dr. Leon.”

“Oh, was that it?” As if he hadn’t deliberately botched the name of her date in the first place. Rick has met Denny before. Beth’s mom had invited him to her surprise birthday dinner that she organized with Courtney a few weeks ago. He was nice, bought her a book of easy recipes that he swore got him well fed through night shifts that he thought she’d enjoy. The gesture was thoughtful and was what made her agree to giving him her number. Rick was there for it all, one eyebrow arched high in what she was able to tell was silent judgement as he kept sharing a look with Yolanda.

“—And it went fine.”

He raises that brow again now. “Just fine?”

Beth shrugs. She already knows how Rick feels about why she’s giving him a chance. He’s not exactly her first choice when it comes to dating—Rather, he wasn’t much of a choice at all, pestered into giving the youngest single doctor working at her mom’s floor the time of day.

Her parents are getting concerned she’s throwing herself too deep into work without any support. It’s not precisely fair—Juggling a new position at Central City emergency with spontaneous secret crime-fighting against metahuman villainous egomaniacs does not give a woman much time to find someone new to love. Long shifts end in face-planting into bed until the next one and there’s nothing more she’d rather do than shove off her work shoes to do that. Only a handful of people have enough grip on Beth’s heart for her to sacrifice her evenings—Courtney and her family, Yolanda, Jade, Wally, her parents. And while she enjoys the pretty dress and matching pair of high heels for dinner, her energy to sustain a relationship would require an extension of self that she’s not sure she has to offer.

She’s tried to explain this, cutting out the important JSA parts, which she self-admits would strengthen her argument.

“It was a nice lunch.” She’s already preferring dessert with Rick, though.

“Tell me about it.”

“There’s not much to tell.”

“What, he was that boring?”

Beth sighs. She finds herself describing her entire lunch break, from waiting for Denny to scrub his hands from surgical fluids to grabbing her hand to chatter about his day without a moment of pause for her to get something into the conversation until their food had arrived. It’s because he was excited to be on the date with her. Beth’s mom was talking her up to him, no doubt, clearly that was the case by any indication of how her mother kept talking about Denny to her over the phone too. So Denny was likely nervous, he kept letting out a barking type laugh after something he thought Beth should find funny. Beth couldn’t exactly be annoyed for his rambling to no end, she was the queen of that when she was younger. Her mom probably thought it was nice they had that in common. Except, it’s not. Beth’s excited verbal amusement park went away with age. Beth learned to keep her mouth shut when she needed to, she’s hoarded too many secrets.

“There’s one thing though that bothered me a bit,” she admits finally, tapping her cut nails against the table. “He asked me what...pleased me... the most.”

Rick frowns at her. “Huh?”

She flushes, eyes flitting away as she mumbles, “In bed. What I find pleasurable in bed.”

Rick bristles, his mouth dropping open. “Did you tell him?”

“After what he told me first? I kind of had to. There was a family sitting within earshot of us, it was barely noon so I sort of said something vague, I don’t exactly remember, I think my brain is trying to block it out. It was embarrassing.”

“God, that’s tacky.”

She knew Rick would say that. “I think he was trying to assess our compatibility?”

“You make him sound like some socially inept robot.”

Beth lowers her mug, biting her tongue on calling herself a socially inept robot. She reaches over the table for the pot the waitress left for them after Rick’s second refill, instead. He lifts it for her when notices, pouring her a fresh cup and slides over the basket of sugar packets and creamers.

“Thanks,” she says, then returns to their conversation. “I think he was trying to be suave.”

“You hate that word! You’ve said so yourself!”

Had she? Beth wrinkles her nose. It’s crazy how much of their lives they’ve shared together. “In high school, maybe.”

“I vividly remember you telling me that talking about sexual preferences with acquaintances freaks you out.” That’s true. Whenever a horror story kinky sex accident patient shows up in Beth’s emergency room describing their incident in full detail, it takes all of her professionalism not to drop her clipboard and run out from second hand embarrassment.

She shifts in her seat and explains, “He was my date, Rick.”

“So that’s what, half an hour of getting to know him? You’d think someone that went to med school would have the patience to keep it in their pants.”

“Rick!” She gapes at his bluntness because he’s just flinging it out there, dragging Dr. Leon’s entire personality with barely any effort at all, what’s worse is that he’s being unintentionally funny and now she’s trying not to laugh.

“What? This man is clearly not for you. He’s not your type.”

She raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Then what is?”

Rick looks down at his plate, quieting. He hasn’t really eaten yet, just danced his fork all over that cake. She’s half tempted to ask him for it if Rick’s not hungry. She finished her lemon square in four bites.

“Well...”

“Well?”

"Well... He’s not my type... for you. He’s not good enough for you. He sounds like a secret sleaze."

Beth stops trying to defend Denny after Rick says that. She’s not sure if he’s so adamant because he can tell the way she’s not really interested in him, but feels the need to make her mom happy and is trying to give her an out, or if he honestly thinks Denny is not a good person. She’s been a superhero for ten years now, Beth is pretty sure how to gauge a person’s character. There’s nothing wrong with Denny Leon the way Rick is painting him. It’s hard because she knows there’s no real spark, but she’s willing to try. Chemistry doesn’t develop like that over one day.

Beth thinks about her mom again. She just wants Beth to have a fulfilling life. And she had found Beth’s father while also steadily making a career as a respected research clinician. What’s Beth’s excuse then, to say finding someone isn’t possible?

“I don’t have a type, I’ve barely dated at all. The man I’ve spent most of my time with is you.”

Rick takes a while to respond, but his eyes are on hers like he’s waiting for an afterthought to accompany her last sentence. It’s sincere and gentle, and for the second time since they’ve met here today, she finds her heartbeat picking up because of the way she’s being seen.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s just—“

“What?”

He takes another moment before answering. “Why are you forcing something with someone you have no desire to connect to? Are you not...Happy?”

His question takes her by surprise. She stammers, feeling more heat rise to her face. “Why are you asking me this?”

Rick drags a hand over his face and leaves it there for a moment, like he’s just trying to breathe. Eventually, he sweeps his hair back up over his head, and he strikes a nostalgic resemblance to the angry boy Beth latched onto in tenth grade whose soul she watched soften over years of time. Her heart pangs at the memory of the way things were. When they spent all week side by side, and didn’t have to schedule coffee dates that inch towards midnight around saving each other in costumes with relics because of their hectic lives.

“I care about you,” he finally says. “I just don’t want to see you exhaust yourself over someone that’s not worth your time. You should be with someone who makes you feel how I feel whenever I’m with you.”

She smiles at that. “I love you too, Rick.”

His own smile falters, something dims in his expression, she’d almost call it wistful, but that’s not exactly a feeling Rick has in his emotional repertoire. He lowers his gaze to his plate again.

“Hey.” Beth places her hand over his. “Are you okay?”

In high school, Rick was on track to becoming a mechanic like Pat until the man turned him around by the shoulders and walked him through scholarship applications for college. To the surprise of practically everyone in Blue Valley except his inner circle of friends, he graduated with honours in both chemistry and physics, and is now an independent research scientist for a big pharma company. He says he likes his lab, but the regulations of being under a company contract means there’s only so much experimentation he can get by with on his own. Beth has been encouraging his recent talks of starting up his own research lab for JSA, but he seems stressed thinking of taking that beyond the realms of idealism.

His hand freezes beneath her palm. He glances up at her again without words, like he’s struggling with what to say. The creases between Beth’s brows deepen further with concern. “Rick?”

“I’m fine,” he lies. The smile is so fake it hurts that he thinks she could be fooled by it.

“Come on, it’s just us. Something’s bothering you. Is it work? Did your uncle contact you for money again?”

“No, I’m fine. I promise.”

“Rick—“

“You don’t have a type. You just have a person. I know that because you’ve been my person since I was seventeen. You don’t need your mother’s fancy surgeon prodigy to sweep you off your feet, Beth. You have me.”

“I—”

Her pulse rushes in her ears. She’s honestly speechless. Beth just sits there. Rick searches her face for some type of recognition she can’t give back because she’s just confused. She’s blinking back unexpected tears, the hand she has over his shaking, because there has to be something more to this, the gravity behind everything, but her mind keeps hitting against a blank wall. She understands what Rick is saying but not what he means.

He sees her distress and slips out of his booth, sliding into her side. “Hey,” he says, wrapping an arm around her as she presses her wet face into his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s okay.”

Her stomach drops at the horrible way his voice sounds scratchy, thick with regret. That’s when it clicks, and the tears fall for real.

Rick is in love with her.

She’s not crying because she’s upset. Blindly, she reaches up for his face to see him, those fond hazel eyes blinking back. They used to be so hardened and guarded, but it’s just openness now, with her. It’s late, the diner is almost empty, nothing but dim lights and the only waitress busy cleaning up behind the counter. It’s just them, in their special spot. And it’s just them, their solid partnership, that Beth needs in her life to carve out time and effort and feelings for. He’s been trying to articulate this over and over since the evening began. Hugging her tightly, lets out a long breath. The solace he finds in her, alone. The relief and love. How she feels it in equal measures, how it’s always been there.

“I didn’t know.”

“I never really told you.”

But he has, really. He’s shown her since they were kids.

She touches his face, guiding him down so he could kiss her the way she suddenly desperately wants.

He does, kissing Beth deeply until her head goes dizzy and the light feeling is not something she ever wants to let go of. There is no extension of self when Beth is with Rick. No room to make. He already is in her future, can have all of her time.

#stargirl #hournite #rick tyler #beth chapel #fluff #jealous!rick #hournites fic #dctv

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somefinelipstickonthatpig · 4 years

Photo

rated: g

fandom: Tales of Vesperia

prompt: “Ballroom Dancing” + Ristelle

requested by: @oliverniko

YAY SO I CAN FINALLY RELEASE THIS LAKJSDLFKJDF a while ago, it was my good friend Ollie’s birthday and a few of us got together and made a zine for him filled with fanfics and fanarts that we all made. My contribution was Ristelle, using the “ballroom dancing” prompt that Ollie had given me for them AGES ago

it’s so nice to be finally able to deliver on this!! I hope you enjoy the sap!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, OLLIE!

- o - o - o -

La Valse de L’Amour [Read on AO3]

- o - o - o -

Where Rita Mordio first went wrong was looking at her hands. And it’s admittedly funny, maybe: how sensory memory can be such an experiential thing to relive over and over and over again. What’s not funny is her memory and all of her foolish feelings and her hypersensitive nerves getting in the way of her vital work.

She switches on the lab’s lights and glances at her fingers. Her face burns red. The memory of warmth and satin white gloves under those same fingers the previous night floods her, latches like a sticky glob of honey to the inside of her brain.

It’s stupid. It’s so stupid.

But there’s a song stuck in her head now: some waltz-y schmaltz with bouncing strings that encourages her feet to move in a bending, swinging rhythm like the sway of the ribbons that dangled from Estelle’s hair. The princess’ pink up-do had been wrapped in gleaming, pale turquoise. Last night, Rita had half-wondered if she was seeing things or if Estelle’s hair really was sparkling with stars. Maybe she had one too many glasses of champagne?

But gosh; Estelle had been gorgeous in that aqua gown. A vision. And the way her eyes wrinkled at the edges when she laughed—

Rita stops herself and smacks her burning cheeks with both hands. Damn it! Focus, Rita! You have important research to do!

But all of your work is for her, anyway, isn’t it?

Rita swallows and ignores the orchestra in her head and the way she wants to spin to her desk and slams her hands on the worktable. She ignores the voice in her head that asks, So what does this mean? and challenges it by asking, What does what mean?

That you’ve devoted the rest of your life to helping one girl and now the only thing you can do is think about the way her hand fits perfectly in yours?

Rita shoves her hands over her face again, moaning to herself. “Ugh. Stop it…”

But the heat of Estelle’s waist under her hand is hard to forget. The twin contact points of Estelle’s palm against hers; the gravitational pull to draw the princess flush against her as they danced. Estelle had such grace to her in the arched line of her spine; such perfect ballroom behavior that was all learned, no doubt. Something she had lived under and studied because she was a princess and could have been the empress and those were the kind of things that made Rita sweat when she remembered that they were, in fact, fact.

Her eyes had followed the sweep of Estelle’s lifted jaw many times last night. The pale, soft skin of her neck had been unbearably tempting, something Rita hates actually admitting. But maybe in the solitude of her lab, such thoughts were…permissible.

And yet even with such practiced poise due to a childhood Rita had never known, she was still the same Estelle.

The bend of her painted lips to part around her kind smiles hadn’t changed. The way her sea green eyes bored into Rita and didn’t waver as Rita babbled while they stood beside the buffet table. The way Estelle’s entire universe, for one breathless moment, revolved around her. Under that kind of attention and pressure, something in Rita forgot to function.

It didn’t matter how boring their conversations were. Estelle had gotten Rita to open up about all sorts of research, even the dustiest, oldest ones of her school-hood studies, and Estelle had listened to every factoid and tangent without a single complaint.

Such an earnest audience had been—still is—the most humbling thing to experience.

Rita turns around and leans against her lab worktable. Her hands curl against the edge and remember the way she had slid those fingers up along Estelle’s arm. She remembers Estelle’s gasp: the tiniest hitch in her breathing that set off fireworks in Rita’s gut.

They had danced.

And the sway of their bodies had been everything for those few minutes of a perfect dream.

Rita slides down to the floor and brings her knees up to her chest. She cups her hands over her face; after a moment, they slide down to clasp over her chest. She closes her eyes.

“Damn,” she whispers to the air. “Can’t believe I’m in love with a fucking princess.”

But man, do I wish I could dance with her every day.

#vesperia #ristelle #rita mordio #Estellise Sidos Heurassein #mod krissey #mod krissey writes a thing #fluff bingo!#ballroom dancing #fluff #drabble #fanfic: vesperia #fanfic: rita #fanfic: estelle #fanfic: ristelle

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Sanctuary -Chapter 16

Fandom: Extraction, Tyler Rake

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @valkyrie-of-the-light

If anyone wants to be tagged, please let me know. I know there’s quite a few reading this ;)

Warnings: none really. Maybe some bad language.

“You're a natural,” Esme comments the next morning, as she and Nik lounge on a park bench; Yaz keeping the kids busy and laughing hysterically over his antics on the playground equipment.

They've all become restless being cooped up in the house with nothing more to do than count down the hours and minutes before Tyler leaves for Ireland. Opting to head into town for a late breakfast and some window shopping before taking the kids to burn off some of their excess energy. Tyler and Ovi had been gone for better part of the morning and wouldn't return to some time in the early afternoon; time at the shooting range, lunch, and long overdue talk about his expectations for the teenager while he was gone.

“I've never been told that before,” Nik laughs, as Declan bounces happily on her lap; tiny feet planted on her thighs, hands on her shoulders, her own resting on his hips to help keep him steady. He's a cute little thing: strawberry blond hair (inherited from Tyler's mother), huge, brilliant blue eyes, and quite possibly the most adorable smile and giggle she's ever seen or heard. Out of the four, he'd been the biggest: an impressive nine pounds, ten ounces. “Normally I'm told how uncomfortable I look.”

Nik remembers when Tyler had to actually teach her how to hold Millie. Back in nursery in that little apartment in Australia. How nervous she'd been when that impossibly tine baby had been placed in her arms. Never had she held something so fragile. Helpless. Priceless. A little human being that depended solely on her to keep them safe.

She's perfectly content being 'Auntie Nik'; she can spoil them rotten and love endlessly on them yet hand them back to their parents at the end of the day. With each passing birth, she's gotten more accustomed to the actual nurturing parts. She can feed them. Burp them. Bathe them. Clothe them. And is now able to successfully change a soiled diaper without promptly vomiting.

“You don't look uncomfortable to me,” Esme says, as she adjusts the snap closure on the back of Declan's baseball cap and then slips it back onto his head. “And he obviously doesn't think so either. Look how happy he is. He adores you.”

As terrible as it sounds to even to Nik's own ears, Declan is her favourite. He's vibrant and full of life; always smiling or giggling and very rarely crying of fusing. Infinitely curious. Simply loving life and everyone and everything in it. The twins rarely bother with her; they're head strong and wild, whereas she's very strict and routine orientated. Millie is a character all on her own. Five going on fifteen, full of sass and attitude. Never backing down from a challenge and very rarely showing any signs of fear. Very much her father's daughter. Right down to the bad habit of immediately distrusting others and shutting them out.

“You're a strong little thing,” Nik says to the baby, laughing and wriggling away from the hands that try to latch onto her sunglasses. “You're going to be walking in no time, I think. Those are some powerful legs you've got there! I remember when you were still in your mommy's belly and you would kick her hard enough to make her cry sometimes.”

“There were a couple times he nearly brought me to my knees,” Esme recalls, shaking her head in disbelief. “Like he would just get all that power into that one kick and just let me have it. If Tyler was lying up against me, it would even wake him up sometimes. All the kicking and the rolling around. You've just never sat still,” she addresses her son, tickling his stomach. “Always on the go! Even then. You never wanted to settle and now look at you. Still going about with your nonsense.”

“You're going to grow up and be big and strong just like your daddy,” Nik says. “You'll be able to put your older brothers in their places, that's for sure. And you'll be able to protect your sister from any mean boys in the neighbourhood. Or beat up any boyfriends that don't treat her right.”

“Boyfriends,” Esme laughs. “Bold of you to assume that Tyler is ever going to let her date.”

“Is he still bent out of shape over that? He's probably just worried because he remembers what he was like when he was a teenager. He doesn't want her bringing him any boys like him.”

“I can imagine how my dad would have reacted to me bringing Tyler home. That would not have gone well. I'm the first girl after three boys. He would have taken one look at Tyler and the hair and the tattoos and promptly kicked him out of the house. Trust me, that is not what he wanted for his daughter. Someone with an edge. He would have taken one look at him and that would have been it. I love my dad, but he definitely would not have approved. He would not have even given it a chance to get to know him. My dad had a certain vision for how my life would go. And a guy like Tyler was not part of that vision.”

“What kind of guy was he hoping for?”

“None, preferably,” she laughs. “He wanted the white-collar type. Boring. Simple. Vanilla. And as you already know, there is absolutely nothing vanilla about Tyler. In any aspect of his life. He's a little...”

“Wild?” Nik offers.

“Edgy. Dark. Dangerous. Fearless. A mystery. The type my father definitely did not want me to end up. I think once he realized I wasn't going to give in and stay away from him, he would have come around. Even teenage me would have been unable to stay away. I can't explain it. What exactly it is. But I felt it in Dhaka. Maybe I even felt it when I walked into his place in the outback. There was something different about him. Something irresistible, despite your brain and your heart telling you to just walk away. It was impossible. In Dhaka. I couldn't stop it. I didn't want to stop it.”

Nik completely understands. She'd felt it too; the minute she'd met him a little more than ten years ago. He’d been a challenge. An enigma. And she hadn't been able to stop going to his bed even though she'd known he'd never want her for anything more than that. No matter how many times he told her, no matter how many times he insisted that he'd never want anything more, she'd held out hope. And sometimes she still did.

She hates how it still makes her feel; the bitterness that eats away at her when she sees them together. It’s been a little more than five years and it is still so hard. To accept the way things are. Even when it’s so blatantly obvious how happy Tyler is. How much he relishes and thrives on being a husband and a father. How it has brought out a light within him; a sense of peace and contentment that had been absent from his life since his son died, and his first marriage disintegrated. And she should be happy about that. That he’s far removed from the Tyler Rake that existed in that little shack in the outback. That he’d given himself the chance to actually be happy; that he’d let someone break down those walls and show him what it is like to be wanted and loved. But it’s difficult. He hadn’t wanted that person to be her. And now she had to sit back and watch as his life went on. A spectator to just how wildly and crazily in love he is with someone else.

“Have you given it much thought?” Esme asks. “About having your own family?”

“I have a family. I have Yaz. The team. All of you.”

“You know what I mean, Nik,” she sips at a takeout cup of piping hot ginger and lemon tea; a rather potent smelling concoction that she swears help calm her stomach and her bad nerves.

“I’m a much better Auntie than a mother. I’m too selfish. I enjoy what I do too much. I like being able to come and go as I please. Nothing tying me down. No one I have to answer to. That kind of life was never meant for someone like me.”

“Six years ago, you could have said the same thing about Tyler. That this kind of life wasn’t meant for someone like him.’

“That’s different. He wasn’t allowing himself to have this life. He hated himself too much. He was a mess and didn’t want to bring anyone else into it. But he thrives on this kind of existence. And he needed it. The stability. Someone to come home to. Kids that love and idolize him. Things that give him a purpose. Could imagine where he’d be if you’d never come along? He would have let himself die that day on the bridge. I’m sure of that.”

“Sometimes it seems like a lifetime ago,” Esme sighs. “And then there’s other days where it seems like it was just yesterday. I’ve made peace with it. I’ve put it behind me. But sometimes…I don’t know…sometimes it just creeps up on me. Something just brings it back to the surface. I try not to let it get to me. But it’s in there. I can feel it.”

“You’re probably just on edge because he’s leaving,” Nik suggests, as she places the baby down on a blanket that lays spread out at their feet, then accepts the cup of coffee that Esme had been babysitting for her. “Are you feeling okay? The way you’re drinking that stuff, you’re not…”

“Oh my god no. There is no bun in this oven. Not yet anyway. It is definitely just bad nerves. And stress. I am so stressed, Nik. Not just about this. This is just the icing on the proverbial shit cake.”

“Talk to me. What’s going on? Are things okay with you and Tyler?”

“For once, it actually has nothing to do with him. I mean, other than the fact he’s leaving in eight hours and I have no idea when he’ll be back. If he’ll be back.”

The word ‘if’ hangs heavily in the air. It’s always a possibility that things will go to hell. That the job won’t go nearly as easily and seamlessly as hoped. It very rarely does. And there’s always that possibility that this mission may be the last one. That one bullet in the chamber with your named etched on it.

“It’s just stupid stuff,” Esme continues. “It’s Millie and the way she regresses like she does. It’s my parents and the fact my stepdad has been cheating on my mom for years and now they’re not even living in the same house. It’s my brothers and their relationship drama. And my sister. She’s met this guy and she’s dropped out of college and no one knows where the hell she is. And then there’s the ex husband.”

Nik arches an eyebrow.

“I guess he’s been friends with my mother all this time. Since things fell apart. And she had the nerve to tell him where I was. Address and all. He showed up at the house, Nik. When I wasn’t even there. He actually spoke to Tyler.”

Nik smirks. “And he lived to tell about it? Maybe Tyler is starting to slip.”

“He should have just killed him. No one would miss Mark. Not even his own parents. Well maybe my mother would. How screwed up is that? That she’s stayed friends with him but she hates Tyler? That she holds Mark up on some kind of pedestal but treats Tyler like he belongs in the gutter? It makes no sense.”

“She has it in her head that he took you away from her,” Nik reasons. “One day you left and never came back. You said you were going on a business trip and then you’re calling to say that you’ve met someone and you’re staying in Australia.”

“It was nearly six years ago. She needs to get a grip. He’s my husband. Whether she likes it or not. And he’s the father of my kids. Her grandchildren. You’d think that would mean something to her. He’s not a bad guy. You know that, Nik. He’s a big, strong man with an even bigger heart.”

“With the right people,” Nik stresses. “That’s the important thing here. Only with the people that he allows himself to be that way with.”

“It’s just so frustrating. That she just can’t give him a chance. Even if it’s just for the sake of her grandchildren. He went to see her the other day. She called him and asked him if he would drive up. Said they needed to talk,” she rolls her eyes at the last part, sips her tea.

“About what?”

“Who knows. Tyler came home and never even brought it up. And I know better than to ask. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past five and a bit years, is hat it’s better if you just sit back and let him decide when he wants to talk about things. You know what he’s like. He likes to keep shit in.”

“Until he snaps and it all comes out.”

“Exactly. Which I’ve pointed out many times and you can imagine how well that went. He’s so stubborn! So goddamn stubborn and it drives me absolutely insane.”

“Well…” she grins, and playfully digs her elbow into her friend’s side. “…now you know how he feels when it comes to dealing with you.”

“I am nowhere near as bad as him. Nowhere.”

“I’ll give you that. But you’re both horribly stubborn and you’re both enormous pains in each other’s asses. But it works. In its own way. Neither of you could live without the other. I’m one hundred percent sure of that. And he’s going to be okay,” she reaches out to rub her friend’s shoulder. “He’s going to come home. To you and the kids. I promise you. We’ll make sure of it. And I know you hate me. For putting him in the situations I do…”

‘I don’t hate you, Nik. I could never hate you. And you don’t put him in anything. Tyler manages that all on his own. If anyone is an expert on getting himself caught up in wild and crazy shit, it’s him. I just wish…” her voice trails off, a frown curving her lips as she lays a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun and peers into the distance. “…what the hell?”

“What?” Nik turns her attention to what has caught her friend’s eye. TJ wandering away from the playground, towards a stranger waving to him from a cluster of bushes and trees fifty meters away. “Yaz!” she yells at her brother, whose completely oblivious as he busies himself pushing Mille and Tanner on the swing. “What are you doing?! You’re supposed to be watching that one too!”

“It’s okay,” Esme assures her, and hands her the cup of tea. “Tyler’s fine. He won’t hurt him. He doesn’t hurt kids. Only women.”

“You know that guy?”

“Unfortunately,” she sighs, and slips her feet into her flip flops. “That’s my ex husband.”

***

“Tyler James Rake Junior!” Esme bellows, as she stomps across the grass, to where her son is immersed in conversation with Mark. As if they’re long lost friends. “Just what in the blue hell are you doing?!”

“We’re talking about football,” her son informs her. As if it’s perfectly natural to be making friends with complete strangers. “But real football. Like daddy likes. Not the stupid NFL.”

“You do not just go wandering off like that,” she scolds him, dropping to one knee in front of him, hands on his shoulders. “How many has daddy and I talked to you about that? That you stay where we can see you? That you just don’t go off on your own?”

There are many reasons for their warnings. And their worries. Yes, there’s a lot of unsavoury and sketchy people out there that are just waiting to take advantage of a child. But there’s also the possibility of there being someone out there just waiting to exact revenge. It is a strange way to live: always looking over your shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it’s the nature of the beast.

“He’s fine,” Mark pipes up. “I wasn’t going to hurt him.”

She ignores him and continues to address her son. “What did daddy tell you? About never taking off like that? About never talking to strangers?”

His chin falls to his chest, a pout curving his lips. “That I should always be where someone can see me.”

“You scared me. And Auntie Nik. Don’t go wandering off like that, okay? What if something happened to you? Mommy doesn’t want to lose you. She loves you way too much. Come here…” she draws him into her arms, a hand on the back of his head as he snuggles his face into her shoulder. “…I’m sorry I yelled. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. But you scared me, Tyler. Please don’t do that again, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees with a sniffle, and when he pulls back, she uses gentle fingertips to clear the tears off his cheeks and the sides of his nose. “I’m sorry, mommy. But it’s not a stranger. He’s my friend.”

“No. He most certainly is not. He’s not your friend.”

“But he came to the house and said he knows you and he talked to daddy.”

“He is not your friend,” she stresses.

“Everything okay?” a breathless Yaz inquires as he arrives on the scene. “I’m sorry, Esme. I just looked away from him for less than a minute. I was caught up with the other two and I just glanced away and…”

“Everything’s fine,” she assures him, wiping grass and dirt off her knee as she stands up. “He’s okay. A little too fearless, but okay. Can you take him back?”

“I want to stay with you,” her son argues, and wraps both arms around one of her legs.

“Who are you?” Yaz addresses Mark. No chill. Just straight to the point.

“I’m Mark,” he steps forward and offers a hand.

Yaz looks at his hand, then straight in the eye, and then back to the hand again. Giving a derisive snort as he turns to Esme. “Mark, Mark? As in…?”

“Just take him back to the others,” she says, and pries loose little fingers from around her thigh. “Go with Uncle Yaz,” she speaks to her son. “He’ll take you down to see the ducks and the geese. Mommy will be there in a few minutes. Can you do that for me? Go with uncle Yaz to feed ducks?”

He nods, and she takes his little face in her hands and presses a kiss to his forehead.

“You’ll be okay?” Yaz asks. “If you need me to stick around…”

“I’ll be fine.”

He nods, then looks at Mark. “Just so you know, I know about fifteen different ways to kill someone without leaving any evidence behind. And my sister knows about five times more than that.”

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” he promises. “I’m just here to talk.”

“Yeah…sure you are…” Yaz mutters, and then takes TJ by the hand and hauls him off back towards the playground.

****

“He’s a little cutie,” Mark observes. “Looks nothing like you though. None of them do.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Esme hisses. “First you show up at my house and talk to my husband, now you’re following me around and talking to my three old? Are you following me?”

“You never called,” he attempts to reason. “I gave your husband my business card and he said he’d tell you to give me a call and…”

“He should have just punched you in the throat and threw your ass in a shallow grave. And believe me, he’s more than capable of doing it. And much worse things. What do you want? It’s been eight years. No contact. Exactly the way I like it. And all of a sudden you just show up out of the blue? Are you unhinged?”

“I’ve kept in touch with your mom. She’s the one who told me where to find you.”

“Oh, I know. And believe me, she’s going to be on my shit list for a long time. What do you want? Why are you showing up at my house? Why are you following me to a park and watching me with my kids? Do you realize how creepy that is? That you’re just hanging out watching us and talking to my son? That is creepy as fuck and that is a line you never should have crossed. My son, Mark? Are you serious right now?”

“You’re making way too much of a big deal out of this, Esme. I guess some things never change, huh? You still overreact.”

“Don’t even try that with me. I’m not the same person I was when I let you get away with all your crap. So don’t you dare try and gaslight me. For once just own up to your own shit. You never should have kept in contact with my mother and you definitely should not have shown up at my house. You talked to my husband? Like, seriously Mark?”

“He’s a nice guy. Not nearly as intimidating as he looks,” her ex smirks. “He’s a big boy, huh? Strong as hell.”

“Why don’t you show up at the house again and try your bullshit on him and you can see just how strong and intimidating he can be? I honestly would like to see that. I’d like to see him just hand you your ass. You have no idea what he’s capable of. And I don’t think you really want to find out.”

“I’m not underestimating him. I’ve heard the stories. They’re out there if you know the right people. I definitely would not want to get on his bad side. I heard what he did to those guys back in that apartment in Dhaka. I thought maybe it was all just a bunch of bullshit. Did he really kill a guy with a garden rake?”

“I’m not indulging you in this. I don’t care what you’ve heard. I don’t care who you’ve heard it from. You had no right going to my house and talking to him. And you definitely had no right coming here and talking to my son. How low are you willing to stoop? How much further down into the gutter are you willing to go? That is my child, Mark. My three-year-old. And you’re out here luring him away like some pedophile.”

“I was not luring him away. He saw me and wandered over to talk to me. That’s it. I would have never hurt him, you know that.”

“Because you only hurt women, right?” she crosses her arms over her chest. “Just tell me what you’re doing here. Why do you want to talk to me so badly? Can’t you just go back under whatever rock you’ve been living under for the past eight years? I have a life. One that doesn’t include you. I have a husband and kids. Can’t you just let me be?”

“I just want to talk to you,” Mark assures her. “I’m not here to cause problems. I just want to talk.”

“About what?”

“Can we go and sit down somewhere? Get a little privacy?”

“You either talk right here or not at all. I’m not going anywhere with you. So talk. Whatever you have to say, just get it out.”

His eyes narrow as he looks over her shoulder. “Your friend is staring at us.”

“That’s Nik. And she’s probably going through all the different ways she can kill you. You wouldn’t want to meet her in a dark alley, either. Stop trying to change the subject. What do you want? Why are you here?”

“To talk.”

“I got that already. About what? You’re testing my patience, Mark.”

“First things first…” he reaches into the breast pocket of his golf shirt and plucks out a small, sparkling and shiny object, offering it to her. “…you left it behind.”

The engagement ring he’d given to her many years ago. When things had seemed normal. Perfect. When she’d been convinced she’d found the love of her life and she’d wanted nothing more than to devote her life to him.

She slaps his hand away. “You’re lucky I didn’t shove it up your ass or down your throat. What is wrong with you? Why would you bring that? If I didn’t want it then, why would I want it now?”

“Well I noticed you don’t wear one, so…”

“So you thought I’d just take that one back and wear it? You really are a delusional, arrogant prick, aren’t you. You’re not part of my life anymore. You haven’t been part of my life in eight years. And I was perfectly fine with that. I don’t want your ring. I don’t want you showing up at my house. I don’t want you talking to my husband or my son. You’re messed up, Mark. You have serious issues. You need to just go. Go back to whatever cave you’re living in and…”

“Denver,” he interrupts. “I live in Denver now.”

“Oh, how convenient. Considering you hated Colorado when we were together. Well go back to Denver, then. Go back there and leave me alone. Leave us alone.”

She attempts to turn on her heel and walk away, but he captures her by the wrist and turns her around to face him.

“Don’t…” she warns, and yanks her hand out of his grasp. “…ever touch me like that.”

He releases her and then holds his hands up in surrender. “Just give me a chance, okay? Let me just explain what I’m doing here. It’s just to talk, I promise. There’s things I need to say to you. To get off my chest. Will you let me do that?”

She crosses her arms over her chest once again, head cocked to the side as she waits for him to continue.

“I’m in a program. For my drinking. I know what you’re going to say. That it only took eight years for me to get to this point. And that I should have listened to all the times you begged me to go and get help. That things would be completely different now if I had have.”

She doubts it. Their problems extended far beyond his alcohol issues. Getting help for that barely scratches the surface.

“One of the things I need to do…to make a clean break and start a new life…is to make amends for things I’ve done. It doesn’t erase what was said or what I did, but it’s an important step I need to take. For my own mental and physical health.”

“Because that’s all it was ever about, right Mark? You. I was never really in the equation.”

“Maybe it will give you some kind of closure as well. Maybe you need to hear these things just as much as I need to say them. So you can get on with your life.”

“I’ve gotten on with my life. I met the love of my life. The true love of my life. I got married. Had babies. I love the life I have. With the person I’ve made that life with. I don’t need to hear anything from you, Mark. But I understand why you need to say them.”

He gives a smile of appreciation, taking a deep breath as he nervously rubs his hands together. “I know that I hurt you,” he begins. “I know that I wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. Live with. That there were things I said and did that were horrible. That I was a terrible person to you a lot of the times. Especially after the baby.”

She nods in agreement, swallowing down the lump of emotion that has lodged in her throat.

“I think we just got caught up in things. I had just come out of a bad relationship and I was looking for someone…anyone…to fill that hole inside of me. And you were there. I met you and everything seemed right with the world again. And maybe it was wrong. Maybe it never should have happened. I was your commanding officer. But it did happen. And I don’t regret that. Because there were some good times. And when things were good, they were damn good. Weren’t they?”

“I never denied there were good times, Mark. But there were more bad than good and you can’t deny that.”

“And you can’t deny that those times weren’t all my fault. You’re not exactly the easiest person to live with, Esme. You don’t make it easy to love you. I’m surprised this guy’s held on as long as he has, to be honest.”

She smirks. “And you were doing so well there for a minute. You almost had me feeling sorry for you.”

“He must have a lot more patience than I do. Almost six years, right? And he’s still around? You must be doing something right.”

“I give amazing blow jobs and he gets laid nearly every day, twice a day,” she retorts, and he frowns. “You actually almost had me there, Mark. I was starting to feel sorry for you. I was actually starting to feel proud of you for getting help. And then you do this. You turn it around so you’re the victim.”

“I’m only pointing out that things fell apart because of both of us. Granted, I was a lot worse than you were and you put more into it when it came to trying to keep things together. You definitely worked harder than I did when things were falling apart. And I know I went off the deep end after the baby. I’m sorry. For the things I said and the things I did to you. The other women. The lying. The being a complete asshole. And that’s what I came to say to you. That I’m sorry and I hope one day you can forgive me.”

She nods, considering his words, arms still crossed over her chest, hands rubbing her shoulders.

“You have a beautiful family, Esme. You’ve got a guy that’s obviously crazy about you. Amazing kids. And I’m glad you found that. I’m glad you found someone that loves you as much as he does. Someone that could give you what I couldn’t. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the kind of man that you needed. I really am. Even now I wish things could have been different.”

“Things happen for a reason,” she says. “Had we…had you fixed things…I wouldn’t have what I have now. I never would have met Tyler. And that was the best thing that ever happened me. Even if what happened afterwards was screwed up. I don’t regret meeting him. Or going through what I had to. He almost died. I almost lost him and I had just found him. But I don’t regret how I met him or how things happened between us. And none of that would have happened if things worked between us.”

“Well I hope he appreciates it. How much you love him. How much you’re willing to go through for him. Because when you love, you love with your whole heart. Your whole being. And I just hope he realizes how lucky he is. I hope that you have a long life together. A happy life. And I really am sorry I couldn’t give you all that.”

“And I’m sorry too,” she admits. “For not being the person you needed.”

“That’s the thing. You were. And I was just too stupid to realize it.”

“Mommy,” Millie appears by her side, tugging at the bottom of her t-shirt. “I’m hungry.”

“Again?” Esme laughs, and scoops her up into her arms. “You’re getting to be just as bad as your daddy and your brothers. Can you say hi?”

“Hi,” the little girl chirps, and offers a hand. “I’m Amelia. But everyone calls me Millie. I like that better.’

He smiles and shakes her hand.

“I’m five,” she announces. “Those are my brothers...” she nods over her mother’s shoulder in the direction of where Yaz is helping the twins shake playground sand out of their sandals. “Tyler and Tanner. They’re twins. But they don’t look exactly alike.”

“Fraternal,” Esme explains. “Not identical. But you’d never know it if you saw them side by side. It’s hard for people to tell them apart, isn’t it, Millie? We can because we live with them and see them every day. But to other people it’s hard.”

Millie nods. “Sometimes, at school, if they have a new teacher or a new person watching them on the playground, they’ll pretend to be each other. Just to mess people up. They think it’s funny,” she rolls her eyes at that, then adds in exasperation, “Boys. They try at home too, but mommy and daddy know who is who. That’s my other brother,” she points in the direction of where Nik is buckling the baby into his stroller. “Declan. He’s just a baby. I like him better than the other two. I really want a baby sister. I’m tired of having brothers.”

“Well that’s something your dad and I have to decide. Whether it be a brother or a sister. We don’t really get to pick. It just happens.”

“Do you know my daddy?” Millie addresses Mark. “His name is Tyler too. My brother was named after him.”

“We met,” he confirms. “We don’t really know each other though.”

“You know mommy?”

He nods.

“How?”

“Your mom and I knew each other a long time ago. We met at her old job. Long before she met your dad or had you or your brothers.”

“You were friends?”

He smiles. “Something like that.”

“Do you like dogs?”

Mark blinks.

“I have a dog. His name is Macaroni. But everyone calls him Mac. I try telling everyone that’s not his name, but…” she shrugs.

“Welcome to the world of five-year old’s,” Esme grins. “Where your attention span is limited yet you can carry on six different conversations at the same time. I should go. The other three are probably hungry too. And we should get home before daddy and Ovi, right?” she presses a kiss to Millie’s temple.

“Ovi’s my other brother,” Millie explains. “But he didn’t come from mommy’s tummy. Mommy and daddy didn’t make him like they made the rest of us. I’m only five, but I know how these things work, you know. Ovi doesn’t look like me. But he’s still my brother.”

“The drug dealer’s kid?” Mark asks Esme, and she nods. “Pretty admirable. You guys taking him on like that.”

“He needed a family. Him and Tyler have a pretty tight bond. Even back then they did. And we couldn’t just leave him there.”

“He never would have survived. If you hadn’t have taken him. You realize that, right?”

She nods, then gives Millie a smile and a kiss on the forehead. “Hungry? Should we go and grab something to eat? Make Uncle Yaz pay? We should go. If all four of them start carrying on at the same time…”

“Thank you, Esme,” he reaches out and rubs her shoulder. “For hearing me out. I know it wasn’t easy for you and I know you didn’t owe me anything. And I hope one day you can forgive me.”

“Maybe,” she says. “I’m glad to see you’re getting yourself together, Mark. That you’re finally taking things seriously and getting the help you need. I really am. You deserve much better than the cards you’ve been dealt. You always did.”

He smiles, then reaches out to tuck a wayward piece of hair behind her ear. “Your hair has always done that,” he chuckles. “I always used to fix it for you.”

“Well, someone else does that for you now. So…” she backs away. Far enough that he can’t reach her.

“I really am happy for you. Genuinely happy. You got the life you wanted. Someone that loves you and can provide for you, give you children. He’s lucky.”

“I’m pretty lucky myself. Even if it takes something like this to make me realize it. He’s a good man. Not perfect, but perfect for me. And he’s a great father. Right, Millie? Isn’t he? Isn’t he a great daddy?”

“The best daddy ever,” she gushes. “Even if he won’t let me paint his nails or wear the tiara.”

“It’s a long story,” Esme says.

“But he does take me fishing,” the little girl continues. “And hiking. Those are pretty cool too. Do you have kids?”

“No,” he responds. “I was never lucky enough to have kids. Your mom’s a good mom, isn’t she?”

“The best ever,” Millie says, and presses a noisy kiss to Esme’s cheek. “Even if she does keep giving me brothers.”

“And that’s our cue to leave,” Esme laughs. “I need to get these guys fed and home. It was nice seeing you, Mark. For what it’s worth, I hope you got what you needed by coming here. I know it wasn’t easy for you, either.”

“If you ever need anything, and I mean anything, don’t hesitate to call. I’ll help anyway I can. Maybe we can start from square one. Be friends again. We always worked better as friends. Would you at least think about it? Give it a chance.”

“We’ll see,” she says. “If you don’t hear from me…well if you don’t hear me, just take care of yourself. You’re on the right path. Stay on it.”

“I will,” he promises, and then she turns on her heel and walks away.

#Tyler Rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #chris hemsworth character #sanctuary

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kikyozoldyck · 5 years

Text

lemon, jelly, sprinkles & jizz

PAIRING: klaus hargreeves x reader SUMMARY: a date with klaus is never that simple. WARNINGS: nsfw, oral

---

“I figured instead of letting one of those kitschy uptown salons charge me forty-five of my hard-earned dollars,” he pauses, turning for a moment to glare at the empty seat behind him, “for a sugar and lemon wax—“ He digs through his matted fur jacket, rustling out a lighter and before continuing to dig, “— I could do it myself. Be resourceful. And chocolate pudding has sugar…”

You give a vague nod as he starts to light a cigarette. Still mumbling about how it’s perfectly reasonable to assume that chocolate pudding would be a cheaper alternative to sugar wax, you wondering if anyone else has these kinds of conversations with their boyfriend (best friend? fuck buddy?) outside donut shops in the middle of the night or if this is just another wonderful perk of being romantically entangled with Klaus Hargreeves.

He takes a drag, and you perk up.

“Klaus!”

"What?” He starts coughing, surprised. Jerking his hand away from you as you try and snatch his wrist, “What—What did I do?"

"Do not smoke in my car." You tell him, for what must be the millionth time since you’ve known him, gesturing at the Marlboro burning between his thin fingers.

“What?” he coughs again, this time a little indignantly, “I smoke in your apartment all the t—“

“Well, thanks to you, my apartment already smells awful. I care about this vehicle.” You argue, lovingly patting your steering wheel, “I’d rather it not smell like an ashtray."

Klaus frowns at that, “I smell like an ashtray."

"No. You don't."

A small nod comes from that. “A classier ashtray, I suppose.” He gives a glance at the lit cigarette in his hand, then one at you. A contemplating glance that makes you sigh with your entire body. Because he doesn't put it out. Instead, he opens the car door, stepping out into the deserted parking lot.

You follow very hurriedly.

This time of night, Griddy’s is jam-packed with silence and empty booths, save for the owner (Angela? Agatha? …You can never remember her name) prancing around searching for trash, refilling coffee cups, searching for anything to make the graveyard shift less dull. A man sat in the corner, nods at you over his laptop. A woman at the counter gives the briefest of smiles. Both of them quickly turn back to whatever they’d been doing before.

You look away from them to see Klaus already leading you to a booth in the back of the diner. Hardly time to do anything while trying to catch up with legs that tall. But you make it as he slides easily into the noisy, vinyl booth.

“Can I get you kids anything?” The owner, Agnes, asks sweetly, as she approaches your table.

You’re about to ask for a moment to decide when Klaus says, “I’ll have one lemon creme, one jelly filled, one with sprinkles — rainbow not chocolate — and uh, oh! Do you have those uh, those ones with the jizz on them? Fuck, what are they called?” He asks, gesturing at you to supply the answer.

“Glazed.” You mutter, giving Agnes an apologetic wince as she fills both your cups up with coffee.

“Glazed!” Klaus repeats, giving himself a tap on the side of his head, “one lemon creme, one jelly filled, one with rainbow sprinkles, and one glazed! And while you’re at it could you bring a third cup of coffee?”

"Do you really need four donuts?” you ask, as Agnes ducks off to prepare your order. Can he even afford them? Is he going to play Dine and Dash today with you as his unwitting accessory? You hope not. You’re barely able to keep up with him when he’s walking, you’d definitely fall behind if he were sprinting.

“Of course not!” He laughs, a little buzzed and way too loud, “I ordered the jizz one for you. And the third cup of coffee is for — ” He glances at the seat next to you and shakes his head, “did I ever tell you I used to come here as a kid?”

“No.” You reply, although he definitely has, grabbing a mostly empty bottle of syrup and tapping it absently against the table. It’s the old glass kind. Much more satisfying than plastic.

Klaus stands abruptly, knocking against the table which in turn clacks against your bottle. He rounds the table in one giant stride before plopping down next to you, “so, my brother Five and I, this was before we got names so bare with me, would wake up numbers Two through Six.” He drapes his arm around you, “we had bedrooms in numerical order — it was adorable! Anyway, the five of us would tie our sheets together like we were escaping Alcatraz or something, and then we’d walk the town in our pajamas like some weird little prepubescent cult.” He laughs again, this time quieter like it’s only for you, “and come here to eat donuts and drink coffee.” He gestures grandly at the cooling coffee cups in front of you.

“What about numbers One and Seven?” You ask, putting the syrup bottle back where you’d found it. You don’t usually ask questions when Klaus’s trying to tell you something. You find it just makes things more confusing, considering that ostentatious statements followed by vague replies have always been his style. You suppose his storytelling is representative of his brain; weird mentalities, forgotten details, strange interjections, and absurd tangents.

He giggles, “we’d bring a donut back for Luther — Allison’s idea, not mine — and leave it on his bedside table. Anyway, the beefy little idiot started to think that it was the Donut Fairy who was dropping off sweet treats to reward him for being a good boy!” He laughs again, his body shakes the booth you’re sharing.

“And Vanya?” You’re about to ask when Agnes brings your order to your table, Klaus’ extra cup of coffee included. Instead, you say, “thank you” and rush to move the coffee cups around to accommodate her.

Agnes smiles politely and scurries off, back behind the counter. Klaus follows her with his gaze. His jade eyes fixed on her as he rips a piece off a piece of his lemon creme donut and stuffs it into his mouth. He makes this lovely, little delighted sound and sucks the remaining sugar off of his fingers.

You rub his neck, meaning to surprise him. (Maybe? Really, you just want him to pay attention to you.) Your thumb brushes against his skin and finds those marks. Fresh blotches of purple from incidents you're still very proud of shine. Shine and no doubt ache under your touch.

"That’s-“ Klaus's shoulders roll forward, “That's still sore."

"Oh,” you mumble, not moving your hand, “sorry."

"S'aight." He squeezes the donut, and you both watch as the off white filling oozes out. He scoops it up with his fingers and sticks them back into his mouth. Albeit with a different pace. Your hand is still on his neck, unmoving from the bruised spot it touches. His movements seem almost more forced now, stalled almost. You hope you're not reading too deeply into things because there's a small grin crawling on your face and it gives you fantastic ideas.

You push again.

“Ah—“

As your thumb presses, it slides. Sliding underneath the clumpy fur collar of Klaus's jacket and tugging at it. You try peering into it, still smiling.

"More down there, huh?"

"Feels like it." For a moment, he registers what you mean. Blinking. Then he pops up a smile of his own. “I got another on my hip.”

You nod.

Your hand starts slider lower from his face. The man watching curiously. The closer you get to his destined hip, however, the curiosity pulls into a far more smiling look again. He's getting what you're setting down.

"So is it..." A cold hand slides under his jacket and shirt, meeting bare skin and exploring. He doesn't stop you, just gives a bite to his lip as he waits for the moment when—

“…here?”

He lets out a strange and loud snort, and the donut falls from his hands back onto the plate. Your nail scratching the surface of a dark purpled bruise on his hip bone didn't startle you but that. That did. An intense heat hits your cheeks, you give a glance around the diner. You know there are at least two other patrons that would have heard that. You know there are people in China would have heard that.

Klaus seems as equally aware of how terrible a noise he just made it was.

“That,” he gives you a breathy giggle, “that feels quite nice dear.” Chuckles lining up with his speech. "You—Could you do that again?"

The woman at the counter is gone, the man in the corner is wearing headphones, and Agnes is hidden away in the kitchens somewhere. Your heart is still racing though. You should have known. He’s nothing but a blaring stereo in the bedroom. You actually had the idea to toss that into Griddy’s —

It makes your skin crawl. Your body heats up, and your mouth goes dry.

But...this seems like a lot of fun.

Your hand starting to slide a bit deeper, “you’re incorrigible.” You tell him, your mouth watering at the chance to latch on to old hickeys on his neck.

“Incorrigible.” He repeats, his voice and breath steady like you're not playing with his hand isn’t one millimeter away from being in his pants, “God, I love it when you flaunt that sexy little college degree at me.”

You’re struggling to come up with a witty reply when a curved mouth touches yours. Klaus doesn't give a chance for any more neck brands. The position seems to shift on its own. Already one you certainly shouldn't be in, it becomes more, well, terrible when the unpleasant sound of his leather pants moving against the vinyl seats reverberates through the diner. Your fingers flex hesitantly beneath his belly button.

But he still kisses you.

The smooth leather of his pants feels too boring on your palms. What doesn't is something that certainly draws your — and his — attention.

“What can I say,” he laughs against your lips, “I’m incorrigible.”

Looking down at your full palm, you nod. “A true menace to society.” Hardly meaning it. You give a squeeze.

“A vagabond, indeed.” A familiar sound that makes his voice sound like a gust of wind is in your ear. He's moved to it. Even with his face out of view, you are utterly positive Klaus's still got a smile on his face.

“A Hellion in high heels,” you respond, your fingers still rubbing. A giggle starts to fall from his lips, but at the last moment, it's replaced with a breathy sound.

“An agent provocateur,” Klaus adds and adjusts his position -- wrapping his wrist around your own. You barely realize he’s stood up before he’s pulling you towards the bathroom. The bathroom is single-stall. You know it, Klaus knows it, and the man sitting in the corner knows it, and your whole body feels hot when you pass him on your way –- but then again, he probably doesn't notice. You’re pretty sure he’s stoned.

Klaus locks the door behind you. You’re seconds away from a cold sweat because fuck, you’re actually doing this.

And it must show on your face because the sultry smirk on Klaus’s face fades, “you’re not into it are you?” He asks, stepping forward. It’s a tiny bathroom; just one of his broad steps is enough to crowd you against the sink. “Hey, I get it.” He gives a peck to your face. "You have very strict moral guide…rules or whatever. No bending. Like a nail in a wood wall or a really old person who thinks that yoga is the work of the devil.” You're a bit thrown off by what he's trying to say, but he says it with a gentle smile, so you assume it's positive.

“I’m into it.” You tell him, and for a second it’s like he doesn’t hear you, “really into it.” Hearing it signals more moving. You’re sitting on the sink. Well, not really. You’re sort of halfway sitting and halfway standing, but with the way you're being leaned back, your head is one push away from crashing into the mirror. It's a precarious arrangement. You could easily fall both forward or back, like sitting in the middle of a teeter-totter.

Klaus has got you though. You trust him enough to let him keep you in place here. It's his turn to grab at a waist, back to your lips again. The faucet digs into your back, hands going back to hold the handles shut instead of feeling the man up. He's got something more in mind anyways it seems.

You certainly can feel the idea brushing your inner thigh.

He's rocking against you. Gently and not too shockingly to make you freak out. You only grip the handles tighter. Grips on your backside keep you steady, Klaus's hands dipping into your back pockets.

Your lips are sealed tight, breathing harshly through your nose at each move forward. It's not a quickening force, really. Just continuous enough it makes your stomach tighten.

Almost whistles are on your skin, Klaus keeping himself calmed through the same bit lips of earlier. It's a bit unsettling. Tough on him because he probably wanted to be vocal. He was really vocal, wasn't he?

His thumb slides beneath your shirt and your back arches. It's a sudden feeling that makes it all sweeter. Thumb pad forming circles on the curve of your spine. Arch rolling your zipper closer to his far more bulged one.

Klaus's head tilts closer as well, mouth on your neck but not kissing. Just resting, so the stubble on his lip tickles your skin. Open mouthed, hot air-- You're just as suddenly on a sink with him grinding against you as you are about to be walking out of here it seems.

The motions feel more jagged at the very least. Jabbing comfortable into you, making you wish you weren't so close to banging your head into the mirror. This is so lovely otherwise. Lovely and you...you could have gotten more out of it, but it's still fantastic. Knowing you helped feels enough--

Klaus catches himself on the edge of the sink. You don't really realize your eyes have been closed until he's halting entirely. Done, you're sure.

He immediately stops. No, he just hesitates. Fingers twitching in place on your thighs, each waiting to continue but he still sputters out his usual lines. "Whoa--sorry, I just thought that it's not good sport to just stop, right? I mean--haha for you. Not for me." He puts on this goofy smile that you feel, in your heart, he truly means as sexy. "We are sure on that."

"Are you offering me something, Klaus?" you inquire, smirking down at him.

The man gives a fake shrug.

"Are you serious?"

“My mother may have been a robot, but she raised a gentleman.” He says, as your dizzy mind registers he's eye level with your fly, fingers going towards it--

You don't really have any words anyways. Just letting Klaus do what he seemed to be eager about getting done prior. It's like a kid playing with his favorite toy, working with little time at your zipper.

You aren't totally sure what he's planning until he's tugging your everything down, which makes your cheeks heat up again. Mouth is too dry suddenly to really say anything. But there's still no words, right? Just the view of Klaus on his knees in front of you, seemingly unfazed by you're sudden nudity.

You're not bothered by it either, namely because you wish you'd been told that would happen. In the bathroom of all places.

Either or, Klaus peers up. "This fine with you, right?"

He does have your interests in mind... "Yeah, dude."

"Yeah, dude," he repeats, not mockingly but to hear it. It makes him smile."Well, dude, you should probably bite into something or, uh, hope that Agnes likes to listen to heavy metal while she bakes."

"Bite into...what?"

Klaus doesn't give a response. You don't really have the chance to process one even if he had offered one. The man's cold hands grasp your hips, making your own fall back to grab the handles behind. Saliva catches in your throat. Body holding still.

He kisses your stomach. Drawing out a slight shudder down your body as it crawls lower, his lips. Experimentally perhaps, but maybe too much. You are working on a deadline here, and you hope he gets that thought in his mind soon enough.

You stare forward at the bathroom door. Like a look-out. Your own look-out. Scared someone's going to come waltzing towards the two of you, and then the whole thing's fucked, and that'd really ruin things for you, wouldn't it?

You'd be in the papers as the person caught getting head in a local donut shop from The Umbrella Academy's famed hero The Seance and probably arrested on multiple counts of public indecency.

A gasp leaves you, one you quickly cover with your hand. Klaus's done kissing and teasing, whatever teasing that had been. His lips pressed right against you. He doesn't seem shaken by your sound -- if he is, he doesn't let on. You for once are not focused on him and his reactions.

He's too far down to be noticed as anything other than moving lips, long thin fingers, something wet finding you. Hands still keeping you where he needs you. It just started, but it feels like forever, given the making out in the booth. His skilled mouth is making you feel so weak and getting your eyes to flutter.

He works like a true professional, that's for sure. Motions you almost wish you could feel out to their full extent instead of quickly to finish a quickie at Griddy's.

Klaus's tongue curls so perfectly, making you really wish you'd had something to bite into after all. This is torture having to resist the groans practically attacking your throat. Your body is shaking at the motions escaping your stomach, wanting to escape your throat.

Your toes curl in your ratty converse, feeling heavy and nonexistent as you want to fall forward, held up by the sink and Klaus's hands on your hips.

Even as it draws to a close with the final lift of heat from your body, making your eyes squeeze shut as any means to resist that same gasp that started it.

And he's pulling away, the cold embrace of his fingers sliding lower, to drag your lower garments back up and buckled so kindly.

The sink deserves to collapse. You deserve to collapse.

Klaus deserves to carry you home and tuck you into bed -- maybe a medal as well. You feel honestly disgusting, more physically than emotionally. Though you can't complain as badly as Klaus, you can only imagine the state his pants are in. He doesn't do anything until he has made sure you're all zipped and belted back up. Nice of him. You feel too dazed to do it yourself. He rubs his mouth on his grimy jacket sleeve, grinning like an idiot when his face emerges from behind it.

You feel strangely not alive like you really are in bed and not in the bathroom of Griddy's. It makes your register of Klaus' kiss slow.

He grabs you by the shoulders and kisses you hard. You can taste yourself mixed with synthetic lemon flavoring and sugar on his mouth. You're briefly surprised by it.

Long enough to stare at Klaus wide mouthed as he heads for the door. The chorus of “I don’t know about you, but I am starving! Ooh! You think I should order a sticky bun? Did I ever tell you about the time I fist fought a hobo over a sticky bun?” as he leaves makes you start to grin, in a mix of disbelief and pride.

#klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves x reader

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el-borealis · 5 years

Text

Whatever Floats Your Boat

Here is my Mileven Secret Santa for the lovely @midnightmillie!

The prompt: “Whatever Floats Your Boat. Really, it’s okay.” Something taking place in summer.

Stef, I hope you enjoy this summery, lake-side, word-nerdy fluff-fest!

Read on AO3

The chattering of Mike's friends filled the air around him. Their voices mixed with the sounds of lapping water and the birdsong that echoed from above. It all blended together in an oddly calming way, lulling Mike's mind into a state of rare and blissful quiet. Mike allowed his eyes to slip shut. He leaned his head back, took a deep breath, and stretched out his bare legs. The warm sunlight bathed his face with a hint of relief and a whisper of hope.

It was finally here. The first sensations of summer.

The tiny beach-like outcropping at the far end of Lover's Lake was the perfect place for such a day. Mrs. Byers said that the location had once been a popular spot for teens back in the 60s. Over the years, though, the makeshift trail had become overgrown, and thus it had been lost to the current generation of Hawkins High students. What remained was an almost impossible to detect inlet with a just-big-enough patch of sand, hidden from the rest of the lake by a crop of huge weeping willows. Lily pads and reeds crept from the water, creating an idyllic setting almost too perfect for the boring confines of Hawkins, Indiana.

The whole outing had been orchestrated by Mrs. Byers. Mike had heard her whispering persuasions to Hopper all throughout the spring. It had taken her weeks to convince Hopper to loosen the reins enough for just this single outing. And truly? It couldn't have come soon enough.

El had become increasingly lonely as the months had progressed. As the air had warmed and the world around them had awoken into spring, the rules of her seclusion had begun to break her spirit. It broke Mike's heart more than he cared to admit. For, there was only so much that a fourteen-year-old boy could do. Of course, he called her every single night. He smuggled her sweets and books and little hair accessories that he'd swiped from Nancy. He made sure to shoot Hopper snide looks whenever he drummed up the courage. More than anything, though, Mike worked as hard as he could to remind her (and himself) that this was all going to pass with time.

Mrs. Byers, though? She had been able to do more. And she had.

Mike made a mental note to thank her later, because on this day, surrounded by her friends and dappled in sunlight, El looked happy. Maybe that was why his brain was so blissfully quiet. Maybe it was the way the sun fell onto her, showcasing the golden flecks in her honey eyes in a way he had never seen before. Or, maybe it was the way her fingers lazily threaded through his in the sand, pumping his hand whenever she laughed at something that Max or Lucas said. Maybe it was her own words, spinning faster than Mike had ever heard her speak before, complete with a hint of confidence that was so incredibly hard earned.

Mike bit his teeth into his growing smile.

God, he was so proud of her.

He wished he could have recorded their very first talks, if only to play them back for her now. Sure, Mike still yammered for about 80% of their nightly talks, but increasingly, El had begun to add her own thoughts to the mix. Questions and answers, with opinions and jokes and ideas tossed in-between. El's unique sense of humor had materialized slowly throughout it all. She had a surprisingly dry and deadpan humor, one that always seemed to catch Mike off guard in the most delightful way. She had also shown herself to be highly opinionated, a trait only made more apparent as her vocabulary and confidence had grown. More than anything though, El was ceaselessly curious about the world. It was a trait they shared, and it made Mike's heart skip with hope for the potential of what could be.

Mike felt like he was unlocking El's personality piece by glorious piece, and he couldn't deny the effect it had on him. The tumbling feel that made him slip deeper and deeper into… a word even he didn't know how to say.

But that was a thought for another time...

Mike opened his eyes and shifted his gaze toward El once again. Her wavy hair was frizzy from the humidity. She had tied it half-up with a pink band that he had swiped for her from Nancy's room. She brushed some stray strands roughly from her face as she listened to Dustin drone on about a family of ducks on the other side of the shore.

After a moment, Dustin stood up and wiped his hands on his pants. He held his hand out to El.

"I'm going to go take a look at them," Dustin said. "Wanna come?"

"Um…" El stuttered, looking back at Mike for the first time in a few minutes. "I'll stay here. Is that… okay?"

Dustin shrugged, "Whatever floats your boat."

"Wh -"

Dustin waved his hand casually as he began to walk away, "Really, it's okay!"

Mike watched El curiously as El watched Dustin leave. That was when he saw it. The now familiar pattern. It played out like clockwork through her expressions. First, the sharp line appeared between her eyebrows. Then, she blinked three times in quick succession. Finally, her lips moved with no sound; the hints of fragmented words driving upon them.

Mike leaned close, "What is it?"

El twitched in surprise. She bit her lip and watched Dustin's retreating figure for another couple of seconds. She then turned slowly toward Mike. Her eyes were serious. Her voice, a low and worried whisper.

"M-mike," she stuttered. "I… I didn't bring a boat."

"...What?"

"He said I should… float my boat but…" her eyes snapped wide. "Was I supposed to bring a boat? I- I don't have a boat!"

"Oh!"

Mike worked fast to successfully bite back the laugh that shot to his lips so as to not embarrass her. "No, El. You don't need a boat. He um… That's just a phrase. Dustin said an idiom."

El stared at him blankly. "He's an idiot?"

Mike snorted, "Oh, he's definitely an idiot. But no. He said an idiom. It's like… a saying. They're phrases that don't really mean what the actual words mean. Like 'whatever floats your boat' means 'do whatever you want.'

El's eyes twinkled with instant annoyance. "He told me to float a boat. But... I'm not supposed to float a boat."

"Nope. You're just supposed to 'do what you want'."

"That is…" Her shoulders quickly dropped and she huffed. "That is stupid! He could say 'yes'. No more. Just 'yes'. But he told me to 'float a boat'?! That's… that's stupid! Words are so stupid, Mike."

It finally slipped. Mike could no longer contain his laughter. "You just said a whole lot of words about how dumb words are."

El's tense look softened in an instant. She ducked her head as the slightest pink rose into her cheeks. "I'm getting better, yeah?"

"Yeah!" Mike replied. He playfully bumped her shoulder. "Way better! That was almost a whole rant!"

El chuckled. Her dimples caught the sunlight as she looked at him with her perfect closed-lipped smile.

"Don't feel bad that you don't know these phrases, though," Mike added as he reached out for her hand. "You're right. They are stupid. It's just something you learn."

"It's just something you learn." El repeated back to him with a mocking tone.

"Hey!"

El giggled and shifted closer to Mike. "Tell me some other idiots."

"Idioms."

"Right. Idioms."

"Well…" Mike played with her fingers for a silent moment as he thought. "There's 'hold your horses'. That means to 'slow down' or 'don't get carried away'."

"Get carried away?"

Mike grimaced. "Shit, that's another idiom, isn't it? Yeah, I guess they both mean to slow down."

El rolled her eyes, "People could just say, 'slow down'."

"Oh! There's 'kick the bucket'! That means to die."

"WHAT?!" El yelped, her eyes blowing wide.

"Yeah... that one is really weird now that I think about it."

El burst into laughter. Free flowing, loud, unrestrained laughter. She latched onto his hand as she tried and failed to catch her breath. "That is… that is SO stupid!"

"It is…" Mike replied, giggles beginning to fill the space between his own words in a contagious manner. "That one is really stupid!"

El's laughter was joyous. Over the course of the next few seconds it took over her entire body. Her nose was scrunched and pink lips were turned upward. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut. Her fingers gripped tightly on his as she leaned over on herself and tried to catch her breath. She seemed so happy, so incredibly beautiful and perfectly at peace...

Mike's own laughter subsided. For, in that moment, an emotion so much stronger than amusement flooded through his body like an earthquake.

"Ooh, are you teaching El phrases?"

Mike jumped at the intruding voice. He looked up to find Max standing over them, a chip bag that had been by El's feet now in her hands.

El finally caught her breath and looked up toward their friend. "Idioms?" she said tentatively, trying the word on for size.

"I see…"

Max took a quick look at Mike. Her expression turned to one of devilish glee. Max bent down to eye-level and leaned in toward El. "I've got one for you, Ellie," Max said, her eyes flicking back on Mike before she said, "Head over heels."

"What's that?"

"I bet Wheeler would love to explain that one to you," she replied with a smirk. "Since he is. Completely. It's written all over his face right now. Have fun, Mike!"

Max patted Mike patronizingly on the knee and bounded instantly away.

"What does that mean?" El asked.

"Uh…"

"What?" El asked, her laughter gone, her gaze intent.

Mike made a mental note to kill Max later. For, El was staring at him with that look. That piercing gaze that Mike knew meant that El was expecting a full explanation. His tongue felt instantly dry.

"It's… It's when you really like someone," he stuttered, "Like... really like them? You like them so much you can't stop thinking about them and you could do like, flips? and stuff?"

"Flips?"

Mike's hand flamed so hot within El's grasp that he was sure it was going to burn her.

"Well, no. Not actually flips. But you feel like you could do flips when you look at them? Does that... does that make sense?"

"No."

Mike bit back a groan. "I guess… I'm uh… Okay..." he took a deep breath and tried to steady himself, "It's when your stomach feels all squirmy and your skin feels too tight and you can't stop thinking about them no matter how hard you try. Did I already say that part? Yeah, I did… I think… Uh…"

Mike's words died in an agonizing swallow.

El bit her lip. Yet, after a short moment, something seemed to dawn in her eyes. She broke into a timid smile.

"Like… like love?" she asked.

"Uh..."

"Yes?" She asked with firm nod.

"uh...yes." Mike confirmed, his breath short. "L-love. Yes."

El's hand then tightened on his. She smiled and ducked her eyes away.

"I'm…" El's stuttered. "I'm head over heels."

"You ARE?" Mike blurted so loudly the birds above them took flight.

El gazed up toward him slowly. The golden flecks in her eyes shined through her lashes. She nodded.

It was the last thing that Mike saw before he kissed her.

It was the only thing that Mike could think to do! Because words? Words were failing him here. Big time. The words were so real and so right and far too big for his young mouth to handle. How could he ever find the words to explain how he felt? How could he explain the fluttering in his chest or the sweat on his palms? How could he explain the constant barrage of goosebumps that ran up his neck when she touched his arm and said his name? Or the involuntary somersaults his stomach performed when she joked and laughed? How could he ever even begin to explain how his heart had expanded so much that it threatened to topple him over and throw him -

"- Head over heels," Mike gasped like a breath of fresh air against her lips. "Me too. Absolutely."

He braved to open his eyes then, shocked by his own outburst. Yet he needn't have been worried. For, the surge of warmth in El's eyes told him everything he needed to know.

El was quiet for a moment. She just looked at him. Her eyes wide, deep, floating. Her smile soft.

"Can I kiss you again?" Mike whispered.

She shrugged and said, with the lightest lilt, "Whatever floats your boat."

The laugh that cut through Mike's body was a sudden and glorious surprise.

"Did I use it right?" she asked excitedly, her eyes lighting up at his response.

"Yeah. Perfect!" Mike replied joyously, "Just… just.. per-"

His final word became lost between his smile, her giggle, and their firmly pressed lips.

Mike did not care about the fact that Hopper's eyes were definitely on them. He did not care that his friends were probably laughing under their breath just a few feet away. He did not care about the birdsong, or the lapping waves, or the summer sun. He only cared about the girl who's air he was sharing in that very moment.

Because Mike? Mike was truly… undeniably… irreversibly... head over heels for her.

#mileven #mileven fanfic #mileven fanfiction #mileven secret santa #stranger things

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shockwrites · 6 years

Text

Hard Liquor

Author’s Note: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Series: Original

Pairing: Faye/Theo

Length: 1733 words

Rating: Safe (although there’s like a hint of a lewd undertone at the end)

There was enough tension in the air that one could almost cut it with a knife.

Faye mentally cursed herself. She hadn’t given herself enough time to prepare for this moment. That much she came to terms with as she quietly sat at the dining table, watching helplessly as her current boyfriend of hardly a few weeks was faced with the height of apex predators. A beast in virtually every sense of the word, glaring down at the poor rabbit with the subtle ferocity of a predator stalking its prey:

Her mother, Hortense Dulciana.

To this very moment, Faye hadn’t the slightest idea how the news of her and Theo’s newly founded relationship had traveled so fast. Those cursed words were etched into her brain: “Perhaps you could introduce me to this Theo character”. It was said with no sort of figurative tone whatsoever. Hortense wanted to see him and now. Her heart skipped enough beats that she wasn’t entirely sure it was still beating.

Theo had been all too eager to meet the woman. Oh, how naïve he was. Faye watched in horror as her mother’s greeting came in the form of a piercing gaze that all but shattered the remnants of the bunny’s eager curiosity into anxiety fueled terror.

Hortense was much larger than her daughter in terms of height. She was much more slender and serpentine than her daughter and her horns were much larger and…demonic looking. Her onyx scales held a darker shade, imposing her presence among the lighter yellow and bronze shades of the restaurant. Even her scarlet dress was striking amid the vibrant gold colors.

Her stone cold expression bore through Theo like a firehose through a sheet of paper. Faye was almost certain that the waiters were avoiding their table on purpose. Not like she could really blame them. All Hortense was doing for the past ten minutes was scrutinizing the poor rabbit, as though he was about to be the main course should he do so much as blink.

“So…” The dragon’s voice was sharp and to the point. “Chasing after mammals this time, Faye?”

“M-Mother!” Faye tried to sound chastising but it merely came out as a feeble whine.

Not once did she take her eyes off of Theo, meagerly and just barely managing a skittish smile. Hortense did not look impressed. “Well? Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

Theo finally managed to feel his heart pounding in his chest. “O-oh! Right! Right!” He cleared his throat, hoping to keep his voice from cracking any more than it just did. His suit felt stuffy and strangling. “My name is Thaddeus-ThEodORE! It’s-it’s Theodore Miss-ah Ma’am!” His ears flopped as he was overwhelmed by just how tiny he felt.

Oh boy.

Faye winced. She felt that one more than he did.

The alpha predator furrowed her brow, resting her muzzle on her intertwined fingers, still sizing up her prey. “Well then, Thaddeus.” Another wince, this time from the both of them. Neither party was going to forget that little slip. “Might I ask how you met my daughter?” Hortense’s gaze shifted to Faye who shrank from her foreboding glare. “I would have guessed that Faye would be withered and decrepit before leaving her precious books.”

“We uhh…met at a party, actually!”

“A party?” She asked with a somewhat surprised tone. “I didn’t think a rabbit could be someone of the upper class.”

“W-Well ahh…I was actually…” Theo was starting to lose his nerve as he ran through the possible responses to his next sentence in his mind. All of them ended in tragedy. “I was…one of the waiters…”

Hortense scoffed, leaning back in her seat with an unnerving smirk. “I see. So did the deed happen, hm? Did you consequently recite a line from one of her little romance novels?”

“Well n-no, you see,” Theo stammered.

“Did you miraculously bump into her as she was trying to leave?”

Faye internally groaned. Was she planning on embarrassing her for the entire night?

“Or perhaps,” Her reptilian eyes gave a side glance over at Faye who was just short from banging her head on the table, “Were you stuck with her after she drank herself stupid?”

Faye’s eyes widened. Suddenly she had trouble swallowing the lump in her throat. She made a quick glance at Theo who had just as much difficulty responding as she did. Their struggle suggested the obvious answer, yet Hortense patiently awaited the confession, as though she would gain some sick satisfaction out of it. With the chips down, Faye prepared to fold, not wanting her boyfriend to take this heat on his own.

Fortune smiled on her that night.

“Are you prepared to order?”

The table glanced over the clearly nervous fox who had appeared to draw the short straw among the rest of the waiters. Faye had never been so happy to see a waiter since the day she met Theo.

“Yes!” Faye called out a bit too loudly. “The Caesar salad, please!”

“T-Tomato basil tortellini broth, please.” Theo recited perfectly after running the words through his head more times than he could count.

The mammal waiter did his best not to make eye contact with the remaining patron. “Gin. Please.” Hortense hardly bothered shooting a glance at the meek fox.

“R-Right away!”

Faye could tell he couldn’t wait to walk away. Not that she’d blame him.

The guy doesn’t know how lucky he is.

Not even the sounds of utensils tapping porcelain could quell the uncomfortable silence at the table.

It was like the most stressful game of chess. All responses had to be considered with the utmost care and preparation. With every misspeak or slip of the tongue, Hortense’s judgments grew.

“You say you are a waiter, hm?” The dragon’s sharp tongue once again spewed its venom.

Theo swallowed a spoonful of soup, ensuring that there were no chances of him choking. “Not just waiting actually! I do a lot of odd jobs on the side!” He was all too excited to bring that up.

“Odd jobs…” She replied in a disinterested tone, as though now was her first time hearing the term and she couldn’t bring herself to care for it.

“Yes! Catering, bartending, you name it!” Theo tried to chuckle jovially but ended up awkwardly clearing his throat for the umpteenth time instead.

“…Interesting.” Hortense took a sip of her wine. Her focus alternated between the couple. She set aside her now empty glass of wine. “Well, I suppose that’s all I needed to hear for tonight.”

Faye blinked stupidly. “Err…Mother?”

“My eldest daughter, inheritor of her father’s fortune, gotten herself drunk and latched on to a working-class prey mammal in her splendor.” She called for their waiter to refill her glass. The fox quickly responded, only to have the bottle snatched from his palms without a second thought. He attempted an interjection but Hortense’s man-eating glare immediately reassured him how much he would’ve regretted it. “That’s quite enough that I have the ability to care about regarding this matter.”

Faye and Theo exchanged looks. She was just as speechless as he was.

“Mother, I…I don’t understand.”

Hortense sighed in impatience. “For someone so bookish, you have a surprisingly hard time grasping the simplest of answers, Faye.” The larger dragon took another swig of her wine. “Your personal life and what you do with your time is of little concern to me. If you wish to spend your time encouraging whatever fetish those novels have you hooked on, then so be it. I was merely curious to see what manner of romance novel cliché could capture your eye of all things.”

Faye didn’t take too kindly to her relationship being dubbed as a “fetish” but she didn’t quite have the willpower to talk back to her mother, especially now that the longest dinner she’d ever suffered through was now seemingly drawing to a close. Theo remained quiet and awkward, unable to tell if he was supposed to say something right about now.

“I must admit, however, you’ve surprised me, Theodore.”

Theo’s ears perked up in response, surprised to hear his name being called properly after that slip-up moments prior. Not once did he think he’d be able to receive an approval from her throughout this entire night. Lord, was he ecstatic to be proven wrong. “I have?”

Hortense nodded, cooly leaning back in her chair and looking towards Faye. “I’m so used to whatever weak-kneed fling or floozy that your sister brings home. This is the first one that actually managed to keep in their seat before the main course.” She gave a congratulatory clap that unsurprisingly felt disingenuine. “Impressive work. Especially for you, Faye.”

She was far from convinced that was a compliment but at this point, she’d take anything she could get.

The slog through Faye’s apartment was more exhausting this time around.

Faye plopped face first atop her couch, flicking off her high heels with a drained groan. Theo followed suite on the spot next to her. For the next few minutes, the world was in peaceful silence, free of the stresses and anxieties that plagued the couple moments prior.

“…I still feel her judging me.” Said Faye’s muffled voice.

Theo lifted his head and turned to his girlfriend. “Is she…always like that?” He spoke before his brain could filter himself. He didn’t want to seem rude, talking about someone’s mother. Even after that.

“Mhmm.” She finally felt the need to raise her head. “On a good day if you can believe it.”

Theo chuckled. “Oh man. Well hey, we got through it didn’t we?”

“Mmm.”

“And with some semblance of approval right?”

“Define approval.”

The rabbit smiled warmly before entwining his fingers with her’s. “Well…she knows that this – we’re a thing that’s happening. That was the whole point wasn’t it?”

Faye paused for a moment before answering. She had to admit that she wasn’t exactly expecting her mother to be over the top ecstatic about her love life. In truth, this possibly did turn out to be the best case scenario. “Yes…I suppose it was.” A slight grin reached Faye’s muzzle as well.

“That’s the spirit.” Content, he lied on his back. “So what’s next?”

“Oh,” Theo had barely enough time to react before Faye was suddenly hovering over him, her dress already falling past her shoulders, “I have a few ideas.”

#faye #theo #furry #scalie #original #safe

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itsreallylaterightnow · 4 years

Text

Febuwhump 2020: Run Into My Arms Again(Walk With Me Into The Light) Chapter 4: (Red Stains) I Would Go Through Anything For You

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22499866/chapters/53898919

AUTHOR NOTES:

Okayyy, so here is chapter 4! Thank you to each and every one of you that is reading! I have so much so loved writing this story... and there is sooooo much more to come! Buckle in guys!

Warnings: General violence/torture ... but if you can't handle either of these things you probably don't want to read any of this work.

Song: Run Boy Run x Woodkid

Here is the chapter:

Peter was pulled from the room, a screaming Morgan being left behind, by the chains wrapped around his wrist. He didn’t fight. He could read the threats. He fights, and Morgan takes the brunt of it. He would never put her in that position. Peter used the opportunity of being pulled from his room to get a good look around. He was hoping to see outside the facility to try and figure out exactly where he was.

It was just his luck that there were no windows on the entire walk. He was led to a musty staircase and up one flight. The entire building was barely lit, more lightbulbs were broken than were on. The walls were a dark grey cinder-block coated in mold. Water seemed to be leaking down from busted pipes and creating murky puddles along the eroded ground.

“You guys could have at least given us a better place to stay? What is this, the motel 6 of hostage facilities?” Peter’s senses flared as big-baddie on the left threw an elbow straight into Peter’s jaw. He grunted and ducked his head, trying to calm the stars that threatened to steal his vision.

To be completely honest, Peter was not thriving. Whatever had happened in the car accident – he felt like trash. The entirety of the left half of his body felt like a singular, giant bruise. His brain had taken enough rattling to last him a lifetime, and he was pretty sure that at least three of his fingers had been broken. Every step sent a stab of pain up his body, and he was fighting to keep his breath steady.

The stairs were an act of torture in themselves. His head was slowly beginning to pound harder and harder, every movement he made added to the pressure in his skull. He just had to cooperate and maybe this wouldn’t be too awful.

He had just managed to convince himself that this wasn’t going to be terrible when he made it to the top of the stairs. He felt his entire body falter as his feet seemed to cease working.

The room was a torture chamber.

Literally.

It was an entire cleared out floor, no walls splitting it up. But there were different sections spread throughout the rectangular room. Immediately in front of Peter was a metal surgical table with metal bars spread across it. He wouldn’t be able to move. Peter felt his hands beginning to sweat as the men holding him on either side let him take in the room with smirks on their faces.

To his left was a large screen with a chair bolted into the ground. The chair had strange bindings, a terrifying mix between leather and metal that was intertwined to keep him from moving. But the most intimidating aspect of it was the head-piece sat on the chair. Peter was turned then to the right before he could really inspect the chair. To the right there were two separate and equally horrifying things. On the far wall was shelves and shelves of equipment. Equipment that Peter did and didn’t recognize. Equipment that would be used to make him scream and cry. Peter felt like throwing up just looking at it. And on the right was a camera set-up. It was on a stand in front of a black backdrop with another metal chair bolted into the ground set up.

This was so much worse than he had anticipated that it was going to be. He hated to admit it, but he was completely terrified. He wanted the mask on his face. He wanted to be able to hide the wide eyes and set jaw. Every bone in his aching body screamed at him to GET OUT! Run, fight, dodge. Whatever it takes to put as much distance between this room and himself as possible. He wanted Tony. He wanted to be safe and protected from this. But he knew that Morgan was down the stairs. And he had no clue if he would be able to make it to her before the others did. It was not a risk Peter was willing to take. He would rather put himself through every ounce of pain that this room could hold before putting Morgan Stark in any sense of danger.

Peter was led over to the chair in front of the camera. His body naturally began to resist the force being used to make him sit. His knees locking up and pushing against the hands holding him.

“I would quit fighting, Mr. Parker. Lest little miss Stark gets uncomfortable in her room.” Peter immediately went still. He let his body be pliable as he was forced to sit in the metal chair. Metal and leather cuffs were latched over his arms, shins, and neck. His body was completely immobilized, and Peter felt his claustrophobia beginning to rise up in his chest. All he could think about was the building being closed in on top of him, struggling to move as concrete was piled on top of him – suffocating him down.

He took a deep breath, ignoring the twinge of pain in his side. He had to focus. He couldn’t lose his mind yet. He had to be able to control his brain right now.

“Alright boys, rough him up a bit. I need to go make a phone call, ten minutes until film time.” Hammer said as he slid out of the room. He looked completely out of place in this dungy room. His suit perfectly pressed and not a hair was out of place on his head. Peter looked at the two men as they walked over to the stacks upon stacks of weapons and tools.

He wanted to throw up. Peter flexed his hands as he leaned his head back. He could still feel the effects of the mist that Hammer had on a timer in his room. He felt hot and flustered all the time. His brain seemed to be sludge as he tried to figure out what was going on.

He had been lost in his thoughts when the men stepped up beside him. Peter blinked up at them, and there was no hint of humanity in their eyes.

Peter saw a set of brass knuckles on the taller man’s fist. The man’s punches would have hurt enough without the studded metal spread across his fist. The second man was holding a thin, glinting knife. Peter bit his lip as he stared straight ahead.

“Open your mouth.” Brass knuckles said. Peter had missed the other object in his hands. It was a thick leather strap with a place for his chin underneath it. Peter obeyed, as Knuckles walked up to him. When he turned the strap Peter saw that it held a mouth piece. Unceremoniously, the piece was shoved into his mouth. The leather chin piece molding under his chin. The leather above his lip met right under his nose, and there would be no noise to come out of this. Knuckles put the strap through the buckle and yanked it tight enough that Peter grunted from the pain. It just doubled the pressure in his head.

“Now we don’t have to hear you yelling.” Knife said as he placed the silver blade on Peter’s left arm. Peter closed his eyes as the blade was drawn down swiftly. The sharp sting raced across his nerves, but Peter just let out a quick breath. He peeled his eyes open just in time to see brass knuckles flying at his face.

Peter thought of MJ. Of the fear she must have felt the entire time he was fighting the Goblin. He thought about her eyes, the golden-brown set against the soft brown of her smooth skin. He lost himself – disassociating from the pain as he dreamt of gripping onto her hand once again.

___

When Hammer rolled back into the room with a clap, Peter’s head was hanging low, tugging against the strap on his neck. If he had been in pain before, this was something completely new. Had his ribs on the right side of his body not been broken before, they certainly were now. His face was numb, his nose oozing blood down the strap. His lip was definitely busted underneath the leather and he could feel the blood leaking down his neck out from under his gag.

Hammer stood in front of Peter as Knuckles and Knives cleaned themselves off behind the camera. Hammer inspected Peter, turning his head as he looked the boy up and down. Peter felt a hand under his chin, as his head was pulled up. His eyes met Hammer’s and he wanted nothing more than for this man to stop touching him.

“This looks much better. I want Stark to know that I’m being very serious with my threats.” Hammer cleared his throat. “You know, I admire you, Peter. You could have resisted, could have gotten out in the beginning. But, you put yourself into a terrible place just to protect someone that Stark loves more than you. Were you scared? Scared that if you preserved yourself, then your rent-a-daddy might stop loving you? I mean, before little missy was brought into play, I think Stark needed a play-thing to be protective over. How different has it been since you got snapped back? How much less do you get invited over? How much time and effort does he put forth to Morgan compare to you? It’s probably not a bad thing if we just took you off his hands – I mean, he may even thank us to not have to worry about you anymore.” Then Hammer, whose eyes had been boring into Peter’s soul, turned away as though he hadn’t just been confirming Peter’s darkest thoughts. Peter tried to swallow around the lump in his throat.

“Alright men, action time.” Hammer said. Peter wanted to sit up, to wipe the blood from his face as the red recording light flipped on. Peter’s head felt loose on his shoulders as it dipped and swayed.

“Oh, hey Tony.” Hammer didn’t step into the view of the camera, just spoke from directly behind it as knuckles held a spotlight right in Peter’s eyes. He flinched away from the blazing light, the pain in his head growing as his senses went wild. It had been too long since he’d been in such bright lights that this was a straight attack on his senses. “It looks like I have something that belongs to you. Actually, you know what, I have two somethings that belong to you. Now, don’t you worry your pretty little head. Little Miss Stark is doing just fine. In fact, your rent-a-son decided to do whatever he needs to keep Little Miss pristine and untouched. Maybe that’s why you’ve kept this mutant around. I guess it’s a great way for you to make sure that no one harms your daughter.” Hammer hummed from behind the camera. “If I’m being honest though, I kind of expected him to be a bit more resilient. I mean, a few meetings with a knife and some brass knuckles, and look at him - he can’t even keep his head up!” Hammer teased. “Anyways, Stark, I’m going to keep these two to myself for a little bit, and you’ll get another message from me soon enough. You don’t have to worry about your daughter. She’s just fine, and will remain that way as long as the bug remains agreeable.” Peter felt tears pooling in his eyes. Every inch of this responsibility was resting on his shoulders and he absolutely hated it. He wasn’t strong enough. But he had to be. There wasn’t a choice. “Don’t wait up, Stark.” And the blinking light stilled. ___

Peter was dropped unceremoniously into his and Morgan’s cell. He grunted at the pain as he tried his best to hide the tears racing down his face. The shackles on his arms had been replaced with a thick metal band that was wrapped around his neck. The chain, thick and heavy, had been latched onto the wall behind him. They had left the gag on him, and he wanted nothing more than to take it off. Hammer, right before departing, had said that if Peter so much as laid a hand on the strap Morgan would be the next to have one. The threat had done its job, so Peter just tugged the girl up against his side, wrapping a steady arm around her as she cried. He rubbed comforting circles into the girl’s back, leaning his head against the cinder block as he did his best to keep from letting his cries jostle the sleeping girl too much. He watched as the blood from the cuts spread and dropped onto his white shirt. Red stains to stick with him. Never letting him forget his first wretched day in that hell-hole.

#febuwhump #febuwhump 2020 #Peter parker #Tony stark #iron man #spider man #Morgan stark #Justin hammer #fanfiction

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fixxofvixx · 7 years

Text

TEACHING VIXX - CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Hello my dears!! I’m sorry the chapter was so delayed! 😢😢 I’m starting on Ravi’s chapter right now, so hopefully you wont have to wait as long.

I hope you enjou this chapter!

And, as always, comments are welcomed and embraced. Or you can just say Hi!

I hope everyone has a lovely week!

—————————————-

There were probably more productive things you could be doing at this moment. However, your brain couldn’t seem to conjure any. The warm cocoon you had buried yourself in consisted of a big, fluffy comforter and the arms of a big, fluffy cat. Well, panther to be exact.

Since Taekwoon was still “resting” and “recouperating” from an “illness”, he wasn’t required to be back at work just yet. You both had spent the entire morning in bed, simply existing with each other. Except for the occassional moment when his hands would wander.

The man behind you stirred and you felt warm lips on your shoulder. A smile found its way to your face and you snuggled against him further.

“Do we have to go anywhere today?” You sighed as his nose nuzzled into your neck and he chuckled.

“Well, no. We can stay here if you want. I would actually prefer that. Although, I promise I will let you go pee this time.”

“Haha, very funny. You know, I’m not sorry about that. I think the end result was favorable.”

“Hmm, you are right about that. That reminds me, I need to call JangPil about your superhuman powers.”

You laughed as he poked your cheek. You didn’t want to say it, but it had honestly scared you. Not knowing what it meant was even worse.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m sure its nothing bad.”

You turned until you were flat on your back, Taekwoon half hovering over you. You should have known that he could feel your apprehension.

“I know. But what worries me the most is that it would accidently happen. Like what if I hurt one of you guys just because I don’t know what this is?”

He hooked his finger under your chin and brought your face up until your eyes met his.

“I believe that if that were going to happen, it already would have. It obviously isn’t something that just appeared out of nowhere. You were angry and just reacted.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged.

“I’m sure of it. How about I go fix us something to eat and call JangPil?”

You smiled and nodded but you were still worried. Taekwoon rose from the bed and left for the kitchen, tugging on his clothes as he went. You knew it concerned him as well. Although he hadn’t been able to see you do it, his demeanor indicated that he was worried as well.

Curious about possible answers from JangPil, you trudged into the kitchen in search of Taekwoon. When you made it to the kitchen, he was already on the phone talking with the elder panther hybrid. He saw your approach and motioned for you to come closer.

“Hyung, (y/n) is here now. Can I put you on speakerphone?” JangPil must have agreed because Taekwoon pushed a button on the phone and placed it on the counter.

“(Y/N), dear, will you explain to me exactly what happened?”

You went through the painful process of describing that day, complete with Taekwoon getting stabbed and the green light.

“Hmm, yes, I can see how that would be concerning. Taekwoon, are you healed?”

“Yes, hyung, perfectly fine.”

“Good, good. I know its scary, but I assure you that it is nothing bad. It’s rare, but some bonds between a hybrid and a human can create a higher concentration of power. Think of it as true soulmates. It is controllable but it will take some time. This may be why other hybrids have been after you. They can sense the power coming from you. Even though you both are bonded now, that doesn’t mean the danger is over. (Y/N), you’ll have to practice with the power that you hold inside you now. It can come in handy if a hybrid gets out of control. Its linked to your emotions. So, if you’re angry or scared, it will protect you. If you are in control of your emotions, then you can control the power. Have I explained it well enough?”

Taekwoon looked to you and you nodded.

“Yes hyung, thank you so much.”

“Come and visit soon, (y/n), I can help you.”

“Yes, I will JangPil-ssi.”

“Ooh, JangPil-ssi makes me sound old. How about Oppa?”

You laughed at his suggestion but Taekwoon seemed less than amused.

“I think you might be a little too old for ‘Oppa’, hyung. How about we go with ahjussi?”

“Ahjussi?! Oh, just wait until I get my hands on you boy!” And with that, the call ended.

You were still laughing when Taekwoon turned and narrowed his eyes at you.

“I don’t think it would have hurt to indulge his request. He’s a sweet man.”

“He’s too told for that. You don’t need to be calling anyone 'oppa’.”

Ah….

“So…what you’re saying is that since I can’t call YOU oppa, then I can’t call anyone that?”

“No! Thats not it!” His cheeks tinged pink and you giggled.

“Taekwoon…..”

“It isn’t! There isn’t anyone around that you could call oppa anyway. So there just isn’t any need for it. And JangPil hyung is too old for that.”

“What about the managers? Ggomae is older than me.”

His eyes flashed red and you could practically feel the jealousy pulse off his body.

“No.”

“Why not? Its just a term of endearment. Just like I call YoonJung, Unni.”

“But that’s different.”

“Because he’s a guy?”

He didn’t answer but you knew that was the reason. Taekwoon’s jealousy was a fire that could easily be stoked. Because of his animal instincts, his possessive nature usually went into overdrive. Poor thing couldn’t really help it. You walked up closer to him and slid your arms around his waist.

“Don’t worry, I won’t call anyone oppa. It would only be you anyway if you were older than me. I’m sorry I don’t get to call you that.”

His arms wrapped around you in return and he lowered his head to bury it in your shoulder.

“I know and its fine. I can just call you Noona, then.”

Your eyes popped open. He had never called you that. As the sound of it reached your ears, your heart flip-flopped and sped up. Taekwoon, after hearing the change, leaned back and looked at your blushing face.

“You-”

“So, what exactly are you cooking? I’m starving!” You tried to pull away but he locked his arms around you.

“Noona.”

Just that simple word and you knew there was no going back. He knew now. Your heart had skipped again and he smiled evilly.

“Very curious. I don’t think that’s ever happened when the others call you that. So, I wonder what the difference is?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s no difference. I’m hungry, Taekwoon.” You attempted to whine a bit to see if you could distract him just enough to drop it. When he just stood there, you walked off towards the bedroom muttering about needing your phone.

Once inside your bedroom, you held your hand to your heart to try and calm the storm inside. One half of your brain was concerned about the “higher concentration of power” that you and Taekwoon had created. The other half was trying not to relive those words coming from his lips. You couldn’t quite explain why that particular word was so endearing to you. Perhaps it was because it made you feel needed or wanted in some way. Or that it meant you could take care of them. It never bothered you that Taekwoon had never called you that. He had always called you by name. Now that he had seen your reaction, you worried about how much power he would have over you. Of course, you supposed it was no different from the power you held by using his stage name.

Grabbing your phone you sent out a group text for the rest of the boys, YoonJung, and JiYoon to join you and Taekwoon tonight in your apartment. You wanted to tell them about what JangPil had said and also about JooHyung.

Almost immediately, your phone buzzed with replies. YoonJung promised that she would be over in a few hours. JiYoon and Wonshik were leaving the studio soon. The others were apparently in the dorm, bored to death, and would be over shortly. You walked back towards the kitchen to find Taekwoon.

Walking around the partition you found that he was gone.

“Taekwoon?”

A few seconds later, hands latched onto your shoulders. Startled, you let out a short scream and turned quickly. You watched in almost horrifyingly slow-motion as green light sparked out of your hands and hit Taekwoon in the stomach. The short blast knocked him back just a couple of feet but he hit the floor with his face contorted in pain. A full scream erupted from your lips as your legs gave way. You started to crawl over to him but you were afraid to move. You were paralyzed by fear. Fear of what you might accidentally do.

To your relief, Taekwoon sat up and shook his head as if to clear his head. He started to speak but stopped once he saw your face. With a slight wince, he rose to his knees and started towards you. Violently shaking your head, you back away from him. You vaguely heard the code being pressed for the door but you couldn’t take your eyes off of Taekwoon. Hakyeon, Jaehwan, Hongbin, and Hyuk came charging through the door and looked around, panicked. Hakyeon was the first to speak.

“We heard screaming. What happened?”

Taekwoon didn’t answer, he only eased his body towards yours. Panic welled up inside you at the fear of hurting him again.

“S-stay there.”

“Like hell, I will. I’m fine, love, I promise. C'mere.” He started towards you again but you began backing away until your back hit the kitchen cabinets. You heard the door shut and you were both alone once again.

You tried to make a dash for the other end of the kitchen but he caught you around the waist. You wanted to push away from him but you were afraid to touch him. You curled your hands into fists and tried to struggle with your legs.

“Hey, (y/n), c'mon, its okay. I’m not hurt.” His voice was close to your ear but it only made you pull from him even more. He was too close.

After a few moments, he sighed and you almost thought he had given up. Instead, he held you with one arm while the other quickly moved your hair away from your neck. The moment his lips touched your tattoo, your body relaxed. Your mind became fuzzy and content. He pulled you back towards his chest and cradled you there for a moment. Your mind was still telling you to move away from him but your body wouldn’t cooperate now.

“Taekwoon…” You wanted to tell him to release his hold on you but you couldn’t get the words past your lips. Hot tears rolled down your cheeks at a rapid pace.

“Shh, it’s okay, sweetie. I just calmed you down for a bit. Just relax and breath.” He wrapped his arms around you fully, encasing your arms beneath his. “Just listen to me, okay?”

When you finally relaxed in his arms fully, he continued.

“Look, you didn’t hurt me. Its stung a little but it didn’t even hurt nearly as much as when Hyukkie starts throwing me around. It just took me off guard and I stumbled back.” He ran his fingers through your hair as he talked. The feel of his fingers coupled with your current relaxed state, your head lolled onto his chest. Finally, you felt composed enough to talk.

“I-I didn’t mean to do that. I’m not even sure how it works. After I turned to you, I just saw everything in slow motion. I saw you hit the floor. I know it hurt. It had to have hurt. Please……please don’t think bad of me because of it. If you want, I can go and visit JangPil now and stay with him until I figure this out. I don’t know–”

Taekwoon’s hand tilted your head up and his lips crashed down on yours. Your body was so relaxed that you couldn’t even move your limbs. The kiss was short but powerful. He raised his head and you were caught by the intense green in his irises.

“You’re not going anywhere. We can figure this out together. The tattoo on our necks means that we stick together. Got it? Good. And I don’t think bad of you. How could I? I love you so much. I know your scared about this power that you have now but it would take a lot more than what just happened to even phase me. You made me stronger, remember?”

“But what about the others?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Okay? I shouldn’t have scared you like that. Your mind already had too much on it. So, that was all my fault. So let’s just take it one day at a time, okay?” You nodded your head in agreement and he smiled.

You slowly brought your hand up and lifted the hem of his shirt. You needed to see for yourself that he was okay. But, because of your proximity, you were struggling with one side of it.

“You know, if you want my clothes off, you can just ask.”

“Stop joking around. Show me.”

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.” His voice turned dark and husky and his lips grazed the shell of your ear. You growled at him and he smiled. You sent a glare his way and spoke again.

“Le-” His hand covered your mouth before you could mutter the rest of his name.

“Okay, okay, geez, I was just playing.” He chuckled and raised the hem of his shirt. You leaned back a bit and inspected every inch of his torso. When you were sure that his skin was injury-free, you lowered his shirt and threw your arms around his waist.

“Did I pass?” You nodded and he circled his arms around your back. He moved slightly as he dug his phone out of his pocket. His arms still hung around your shoulders as he texted everyone about the change in plans and they could come over tomorrow. When he was finished, he rose from the floor and then bent down to pick you up.

“I can walk, Taekwoon, put me down.”

“Yeah, I doubt it. I put a lot of power into that kiss on your tattoo. Your legs are probably useless for a good hour. Besides, I like carrying you around.”

He made it to your bedroom and placed you gently on your side of the bed.

“Now, stay here and I’ll go fix us something to eat. After we’re finished with that, then you can get my clothes off like you wanted earlier.”

You had just enough strength to launch a pillow at his head as he went out the door.

#vixx #vixx fic #vixx scenario #taekwoon #leo #ravi #wonshik #n #hakyeon #hongbin #ken #jaehwan #hyuk #sanghyuk #taekwoon fic #taekwoon scenario #vixx hybrid #hybrid #taekwoon hybrid

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silverdrip · 7 years

Text

Four Paws, Zero Fucks

@hello-shellhead Thought you might like this to deal with some of your possible CACW feels and since you’ve recommended 3 of my stories before.

Summary: Tony is turned into a cat. It is freeing. (3,699 Words)

None of the reunited Avengers saw the blast of magic hit Iron Man until he was falling through the air.

There was no Hulk to catch him this time.

Captain America was too far away.

Vision was too slow.

But Wanda’s magic wasn’t.

She slowed him just enough so that his landing wouldn’t crack the pavement.

Captain America and Black Widow called to him through the commlink, but he didn’t answer.

Vision used his ability to pass through solid material to make his way across the battlefield.

He was the only one who knew where the latches to open the suits were.

Captain America demanded he report, but Vision ignored him.

He didn’t say what Tony’s condition was, only flying away with him and the suit in hand.

“Vision, we need to work as a team out there,” Steve said hours later, after the villain had been caught.

“You seem to have forgotten that you are no longer in charge, Rogers,” Vision said with an almost mockingly pleasant voice. “I am second in command. Mr. Stark is first in command. I deemed it necessary to evacuate him from the field since he was unconscious.”

“A real leader wouldn’t leave without a word.”

“A real leader wouldn’t lie to his teammates.” Steve’s face became a blotchy red. “I trusted that the team would be able to handle itself, and I was correct.”

“Can you just tell me what Tony’s condition is?”

“He is awake.”

Loki wasn’t an Avenger, nor did he want to be one.

After the All-Father had woken from his Odin-Sleep, Loki gave him back his kingship.

Odin didn’t appreciate Loki taking charge, despite him being a better king than Thor ever could be. He was banished to Midgard for the foreseeable future.

Thor had been overwhelmed with happiness when Loki appeared and told him he was no apparition.

Somehow Loki ended up living with the Avengers while Thor went back to Asgard to learn how to be a proper king.

“Mr. Loki, I wish you’d take your cellphone with you more often,” Friday said when Loki teleported into the tower with bags of new clothing in hand.

Loki set down the bags and slipped off his sunglasses.

“What is it?”

“My little-bro wants to talk to you. Boss was hit by a spell that turned him into a cat.”

“How big of a cat?” A hologram of a small cat appeared. Loki frowned. Transformations weren’t terribly hard to do, but downsizing someone was dangerous. It was hard to get back that which was taken by magic. “Where is he?”

“In his penthouse. You’ve been granted permission to go there by my baby-bro.”

Loki nodded before teleporting there.

A fluffy brown cat jumped high in the air as Loki appeared. Its hair stood on end, making it look twice as big.

“Apologies, Stark. I am here to help.” He eyed the cat. Its white underbelly and paws were bright compared to the rest of its fur.

“He is stressed,” Vision said while leaning down to pick Tony up. He let out a huff before curling up in Vision’s arms.

“Understandably so. My first shapeshift had been an accident. I would have been terrified if my mother hadn’t been there.” Tony let out a sigh and Loki eyed him. “Do I have your permission to examine you?” Loki asked.

Tony hopped out of Visions’ arms and onto the coffee table as means of permission. Loki sat in the chair in front of him.

“This will be hands on,” Loki informed in. Tony bobbed his head.

Loki started by placing his hand on Tony’s head, seeing if his mind had been damaged.

“Your brain is functioning quite nicely.” Tony puffed up with pride and Loki rolled his eyes. He put his hand on Tony’s chest. “The damage to your chest is still present and stable.” Loki brushed his hand down Tony’s back, causing him to arch. Tony blinked in confusion at his reaction. “Nothing seems to be amiss,” Loki concluded.

“Except for the fact that he is a cat,” Rhodes deadpanned as he wheeled himself into the room. Loki hadn’t heard his approach.

Loki grinned.

“Yes, except for that.”

Tony hopped over to Rhodes’ lap.

“It is not safe to downsize someone to such a degree. I will have to consult my tomes.” Loki stood up and was startled when Tony jumped and latched onto Loki’s clothes with his claws. He let out a pathetic mewling. Loki lifted him up, slightly annoyed that his shirt now had tiny holes in it. “Magic requires patience.” He handed Tony over to Rhodes.

Tony sighed as Loki disappeared.

Tony’s tail was flicking agitatedly as he sat on Rhodey’s lap.

The other Avengers were still stunned that he was somehow a cat.

Kamala was the first one to break the silence.

“I’m so happy you’re okay!” Her arms elongated and she scooped him up from the other side of the table. Tony made a grumbling noise when she hugged him. “Oh right! I guess you wouldn’t like being picked up.” She sat him down. Tony licked his paw and smoothed out the fur on his head. “You’re so cute,” Kamala whispered.

He decided to grace her by sitting on her lap.

Kamala let out a happy little noise and started petting him. It was a nice feeling.

“What are we doing to fix this?” Steve asked. Tony could see Rhodey’s flinch of annoyance. Vision was perfectly composed.

“Loki has been consulted and is looking into the matter. I have informed Carol Danvers of the situation and she has agreed to come and cover Iron Man’s position temporarily.”

“Captain Marvel is coming?” Kamala squeaked out.

Tony let out a garbled sound that was meant to be a laugh. He enjoyed Kamala’s enthusiasm, especially since she was finally getting to meet her hero.

Tony was bored. He wanted into his workshop, but knew he wouldn’t make any progress as a cat.

He was also worried that his ‘bots would be a little too enthusiastic with their greetings and run over his tail.

Wanda sat down in the couch that was closest to him with a book. She rarely could stand to being in the same room as him usually. The feeling was mutual.

Tony wasn’t beyond being petty. This was his territory. He’d already rubbed himself on that couch.

Tony started off with a menacing growl. She glanced at him with dull eyes. He jumped over to the backrest beside her and began yowling right into her ear.

Wanda reeled backwards.

“What do you want, Stark?” she hissed at him.

“I want you to go away.” Tony cast out his thoughts towards her the way Loki had taught him to. It only worked on someone who was capable of picking up thoughts.

“You are being petty,” she said in response.

“No. My house, my rules. You’ve already got free lodging. I don’t feel safe with you around, especially while I’m in this form.”

“I would never harm a cat.”

“I’m still Tony Stark. Considering you mind raped me, tried to kill me, and used your powers to dump a ton of cars on me, I think it’s understandable for me not to want you to be in my vicinity.”

Wanda looked startled. Tony was experiencing a similar emotion. He wasn’t usually so bold when it came to speaking to the reinstated Avengers.

“You willingly joined a Hydra organization and fucked with our heads. I bet you don’t even know how many people died when you set off the Hulk. You should be in jail for that, instead Steve took you in as his pet project. I bet he did it because he wanted to be more in control after Ultron.” Tony growled. “I’m just glad you didn’t hurt Vision permanently—You know what? You need to get a job to pay for the holes you put into the compound. You’ve been in a bubble too long. First in hate, then with Hydra, and now with the Avengers. You’re sheltered.”

Wanda was gaping at him and Tony decided his job here was done.

“Welcome to the real world, bitch,” he projected while strutting out.

Typing with paws was no fun.

He’d sent a general description of what he wanted done to some of his lawyers. They were drawing up a contract where Wanda would pay for the damages she caused to the compound.

Tony knew it wouldn’t take long for them to put it together and Friday was compiling a list of costs.

“Boss, Vision called for a meeting. Colonel Danvers has just arrived.”

Tony hummed before jumping off his desk and leaving his office.

Friday automatically opened the elevator doors for him.

Tony fought back the urge to groom himself. He didn’t want to cough up a fur ball.

He was joined in the elevator by Natasha. They ignored each other. Which is what Tony preferred.

When the elevator opened, the scent of another cat set Tony on edge.

He stuck to the edges of the hallway as he prowled towards the conference room.

Natasha went on ahead without comment.

Tony peeked in the room and zeroed in on a cat-carrier.

Sharp eyes met his own.

The other cat gave nothing away.

“Mr. Stark,” Carol said, pulling his attention away from the other cat. It was in a sturdy enough cage for Tony to ignore it… for now.

He hopped onto the table and held out his paw to her. Without missing a beat Carol shook his paw.

Tony knew there was a reason he liked her.

He meowed in greeting.

“I see you met my cat, Chewie. He’ll be staying in my room for the duration of my stay.” Tony tilted his head to the side. “I didn’t know how long I would be, so I brought her.”

Tony bobbed his head and then looked at Vision before going to sit on Rhodey’s lap.

Vision took that as the cue to start their meeting.

Tony was snug against Rhodey and was content to listen to them talk about how Tony’s absence and Carol’s arrival would impact their formation and strategy in the field.

The meeting wrapped.

“There’s another matter we need to discuss,” Steve said before everyone could stand.

It was clear to Tony what Steve was going to say. Tony jumped on the table so he could see Steve properly.

“If you have a concern then you need to tell me first so it can be put through the proper channels,” Vision said before Steve could continue. Steve turned slightly to Vision.

“Tony said some very hurtful things to Wanda and demanded she pay for the damages done to the compound.” Steve’s arms were crossed in front of him, showing his irritation. Wanda, on her part, was staring at the table, motionless.

“I may have an explanation for that,” Loki said, startling them all. He wasn’t an Avenger and didn’t come to the meetings. His grin appeared first, followed by the rest of him. “One who is not trained in the art of shapeshifting usually fall victim to the instincts of their alternative form. Wanda was in Tony’s territory. From what I gathered, words were exchanged after he told her to leave.”

“That’s no excuse.” Steve’s was looking at Tony with suspicion.

“I’m sorry that our conversation might hurt the team’s efficiency, but I’m not sorry I hurt your feelings. If there is a next time, take it to Vision so we can hash this out on our own. Talking to Steve about it will only strain things further.” It was kind of a low way of handling the situation, but something about being a cat made it so that he really didn’t care.

Wanda grabbed Steve’s arm.

“He has said he is sorry.” Some of the tension melted away from Steve’s shoulders.

“I’m glad we put this to rest.” Steve nodded in a way that reeked of self-righteousness.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t have to pay for the repairs though.”

Tony looked at one of Friday’s sensors. She read his intention.

“If you direct your attention to the front of the room, I have listed the costs that were incurred in order to fix the damage Wanda caused in the Avengers Compound.”

A boring looking spreadsheet appeared on screen. Tony rolled his eyes. He knew Friday was capable of making far better means to show the information in full.

“Tony, this is ridiculous.” Natasha gave him the look that always made Tony feel like shit. His claws extended automatically.

“I believe the boss would say, actions have consequences,” Friday said. Tony nodded his head in agreement, proud of his girl.

“These costs are just a drop in the bucket for you.” Natasha waved her hand dismissively.

Tony puffed up in agitation. How could she not see this wasn’t about money?

“Damage was done to the compound.” Vision’s voice was even. “As I was part of the fight I will take a portion of the cost incurred. Friday, please open my bank account and make the transfer.”

“Right away, bro.” Friday adjusted the cost on the spreadsheet.

“So you’re using Stark’s money to pay for it, but she can’t?” Natasha asked.

“Ms. Romanoff, if you hadn’t jumped to a conclusion and instead asked, I would have informed you that I have my own income from various patents I hold. I have also written a book, but unfortunately it did not flourish.” Natasha’s mouth snapped shut at his admission.

Tony walked over to Vision and butted his head against him. Tony had liked the book. He’d offered up some of his PR people to promote it, but Vision wanted to go it alone.

Vision petted him.

“You can’t expect Wanda to be an Avenger and get a job.” Steve gestured to the spreadsheet. “And this cost is ridiculous. I could have bought a whole house with this much money!”

“Are you adjusting for inflation?” Rhodey asked sarcastically.

“Let’s stay on task,” Vision said, cutting in. “Ms. Maximoff, what do you think about paying?”

Wanda shifted in her seat, looking younger than she actually was.

“You paid so I guess I should too.” Wanda shrugged.

“Please do not let my actions influence you. Your reasons should be your own.”

Wanda sat up straight.

“I broke something and was not here to fix it. I should be the one to pay for the repairs.”

Tony was yowling for no other reason than to annoy Rhodey.

“I will shove you in a bag and throw you in the river,” Rhodey threatened idly as he continued typing on his laptop.

Tony yowled louder and jumped onto Rhodey’s shoulder and bounced off before Rhodey could grab him.

“I don’t care how bored you are. I have work to do. Friday, put on a movie for him.”

“Boss has already watched a movie and was restless the whole time,” Friday informed in.

“I should just put you in Carol’s room, let you and her cat become friends.”

Tony hissed.

He wanted nothing to do with that other cat.

And what if it humped him?

Tony had already been accused of bestiality enough for one lifetime.

He grumbled loudly while slinking off.

In the elevator, he jumped up and bopped the button for Vision’s floor.

The elevator didn’t move right away. Friday was waiting for Vision’s approval.

Tony stared at his reflection in the metal of the door. At least he didn’t look like some haggard alley cat.

The elevator started to descend.

Vision’s level was composed mostly of arts and crafts.

He had no need for a kitchen or bedroom, opening his floor up.

“Mr. Stark,” Vision greeted, not looking away from the painting he was working on.

The image didn’t make sense to Tony, but that wasn’t particularly surprising. The only art he knew was in engineering.

Tony meowed in greeting.

“I observed Wanda’s first day at work earlier. Due to her lack of job employment beyond the Avengers, criminal record, and lack of high school education she has taken a job in retail.”

Tony flinched. He’d heard horror stories of working in retail from Pepper.

That probably wasn’t the best environment for someone who’s powers were often dictated by their emotions.

“I have concluded that her having a job will have a positive effect. It has also made me think that perhaps I should go out and see the world beyond the Avengers and my own studies.” Vision’s eyes flickered to him and Tony could see a glimmer of worry in them. Tony nodded encouragingly. “This would of course take place after you have returned to your normal form.”

Tony walked over to an easel that had a tablet on it. He made a reaching motion even though he was far too short to reach it.

Vision understood what he wanted and turned on the tablet before placing it in front of Tony.

He opened a note and began typing. When he was done, he batted the tablet in towards Vision.

A smile slowly grew on Vision’s.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. Your approval means a lot to me. I think I’d like to fly commercial rather than on your private jet, to really get the experience.”

Tony shrugged before walking off to find someone else to bother.

He understood why cats should wear bells when he walked in on Natasha talking to Clint on the phone.

“This is bullshit. Tony needs to stop being petty. I bet he’s going to tell me I need to pay for it to and take food off my kids’ plates,” Clint said in annoyed tone.

“You’re out of sight, out of mind.”

He normally would have just left, but being a cat made him feel fearless.

Tony entered the kitchen and Natasha’s composure became guarded.

He hopped onto the counter and sat right in front of her.

If they were going to talk shit about him he wouldn’t allow it to happen behind his back.

“I have to go.” Natasha ended the call. “It’s not nice to eavesdrop.”

Tony laughed at the irony and the noise came out as a stuttered huff.

Besides, she was in the communal kitchen.

Natasha narrowed her eyes.

“I don’t know if being a cat makes it harder for you to control your ego or if your ego is just too big for your cat body. Wanda not being on standby—”

Tony yowled loudly, tired of her shit.

When she tried to continue, he yowled again.

She glared at him and left.

When Tony was human again, he’d definitely have to buy an airhorn.

Kamala was being a complete stalker and Tony wasn’t having it.

Everywhere Carol went Kamala went shortly after while staying out of eyesight.

He was certain that Carol knew Kamala was there.

Tony swished his tail in anticipatience as he stalked the stalker.

When she peeked around the corner to look at Carol, Tony pounced onto her and bit her ankle.

Kamala jumped forward while yelping.

Carol hurried over to them.

“Are you alright?” Carol asked, glancing and Kamala then Tony.

“He bit me,” Kamala pouted.

Tony rolled his eyes. He hadn’t even broken the skin.

“I should probably check it out then,” Carol said. “My cat is a biter.”

Tony felt proud of himself as he watched them go.

Tony was looking for a nice place to nap when he saw Steve sitting in the living room.

He had an old compass with a picture of Peggy in it.

Tony stalked over to Steve, even more grateful for how quite he moved as a cat.

Steve was so caught up that he didn’t even see Tony get into position.

Tony pounced, grabbing the compass with his teeth and tacking off.

“Hey!” Steve bolted upwards and try to catch him. Tony had far my maneuverability though.

Steve rammed into a wall while trying to make a turn.

The elevator doors were open just enough for Tony to slip through.

“Tony!” But the doors had already shut.

Tony dropped the compass. It tasted like cheap metal, probably government issued.

Friday took him to his lab, because at this point she could practically read his mind.

Tony avoided his ‘bots and went over to a scrap heap of metal and wires. He dug into it (careful not to hurt his little paws) and hid it there.

After that he played a game meant for cats on his touch screen desk then fell asleep.

Tony woke up human and with a note taped to his face.

He sat up while wincing.

Sleeping on a table while being a cat: Awesome.

Sleeping on one as a human: Not Awesome.

He pulled off the note, that had no right to be that sticky.

It was typical Loki gloating that he’d figured it out.

Tony shucked it to the side and Dum-E happily went to clean it.

“Boss, there’s seven messages from Mr. Rogers.” There was an edge of humor to Friday’s voice that made Tony grin.

“Delete them and open a line to the resident geriatric.”

“Tony, you took my compass and I’d appreciate if you’d give it back.” Steve sounded annoyingly reasonable.

“Hmm, I do faintly remember that. But I mean, we’re fine with keeping things from other people, right? That’s just something we do,” Tony deadpanned while cracking his back. That table had done nothing good for him.

“That’s completely different.”

“I don’t know about that. I’m trying to protect myself. Seeing a picture of my deceased God-Mother really makes me sad.” Somehow Tony knew that if Peggy was still alive she’d scold him for this, but laugh on the inside. “I don’t want to open old wounds or anything.” Tony grinned.

“Tony, please. Peggy gave that to me during the war.”

“That definitely doesn’t sound as important as my mother giving me her love, understanding, and support.”

“I already said sorry.” Steve’s voice was gruff with frustration.

“I guess I’ll say sorry then—in three years.” Tony motioned for Friday to end the call.

Tony went to his latest invention, excited to work on it again.

He was grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

More Civil War Revenge one-shots

#CACW #animal transformation #Tony stark #My writing

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amarsmellow · 6 years

Text

Coffee

It had been a good day, one of the best between them.

Strolling along in the town of Innsmouth the Gypsy had become more and more accustomed to its people and they in turn, mostly ignored her presence. Today was no exception because she walked with the Pharaoh beside her and if they came across a crowd, they parted like the Red Seas. One brave soul or two actually knelt, their heads bowed in reverence to the Black Pharaoh, mumbling words in a strange, alien language that hurt Vera’s ears and sent her head spinning.

She found it helpful to keep all her mental guards in place, blocking out the rather strange energy the whole place seemed to be saturated in. It felt like white hot electricity riding the air currents, threatening to short circuit her neurons, making her tongue tangle in words the old mammalian brain remembered but dared not speak.

When this happened she always sought him out, her hand blinding seeking his, as if by anchoring herself to the very source of her building distress it would dissipate. The conundrum of it all is this worked! Vera would cling to him, pressed to his side, and funnel back what she unintentionally took within her own essence. The feral glow slowly disappearing from the kaleidoscope of her eyes, a spiraling mixture of brown and gold. Uneven breaths sputtered to a more even rhythm and her burgeoning descent into madness itself evaporating as though it had never happened.

But not today! Today she had her coffee and she had – whatever she had with the Pharaoh. It really helped that she didn’t examine too closely the parameters of their association. The word “relationship” was certainly forbidden to enter her mind – if it did she would then have to seek out some appropriate label and then her brain would truly fry itself out.

No, far simpler to leave it be.

And this fine morning stroll – a rarity really! – was to be savored. He indulged her questions, his smile sly and the tongues in his mouth answering her directly, sometimes. Mostly it was the same old song and dance; evasion, quips, and notable eye-rolls when she asked a particularly banal query. Vera wondered if they would ride this merry-go-round to her grave but kept the thought to herself.

Of course nothing goes perfectly in her world and tragedy had to strike.

One of the Pharaoh’s sycophants jostled into the Gypsy, eager to get closer to their literal God.

The result was a slow motion series of gross unfortunate events.

The son-of-bitch-bastard knocked Vera’s coffee cup out of her hand. Gasping she watched in shocked dismay as it tumbled down, as though in slow motion, to the ground. Her eyes flared wide in such disbelief and her hands fumbled to save the precious.

Precious could not be saved.

And those on-lookers, the ones who had yet to scuttle away to safety, watched equally as horrified.

The Pharaoh, too, was highly displeased. He knew – oh did he know – how this was going to play out.

“Don’t start.”

“MY COFFEE!”

He took a deep breath.

“We will get you-“

“OhmyGod! The coffee!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

Those who knew her would not find the sight of her on her knees, in the dirt and filth, with her arms held beseechingly to the sky, strange.

“I always knew you worshiped the ground I walked on.” Maybe he could provoke her out of her tantrum.

Vera wailed and hissed in return, her head mournfully lowered.

The Pharaoh was equal parts amused and frustrated. “You are making a Fool of yourself over a nothing.” He slurred, growing bored and disenchanted.

Vera, who had descended into full blown brat-mode, “YOU’RE A NOTHING!”

The Pharaoh winked out of existence and left the Gypsy to pout, very much alone.

And she hated it.

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Vera opened the door to her sea-side cottage, still in a stint over her spilled coffee. It wasn’t that she was such a mercurial creature that she had such little control of herself. The Pharaoh certainly gave her much leave-way and when any other mortal would have been snuffed out for her comment, he punished her in the best (worst) of ways.

He left her alone.

He could have crawled into every corner of her mind and left her a gibbering, jabbering wreck on the street, nails ripping furrows in her cheeks, a hollow shell of a human being.

He could have descended on her like a nightmare but instead, treated her exactly as how she acted – a spoiled child in need of a time out.

And so true to form she went stomping through her cottage, her words an unintelligible mumble of several languages, strung together haphazardly.

She was stopped cold though by the sight that met her eyes when she ventured into the kitchen.

There was the precious! ALL OVER! Coffee cups of varying sizes filled every available counter space.

Vera – who should have seen a carefully laid trap – was ecstatic!

“You do love me!” she shouted, running like a child at Christmas into her kitchen, eager for her presents.

And of course she drank. Every. Single. Blessed. Cup.

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He knows his Gypsy – he knows her very well.

The Pharaoh appeared gradually in her midst, coalescing in front of her, his smile stretched wide – wider than should have been right but so much about him was wrong. He was here for the show.

But the sight that greeted him, did indeed, give Chaos some … pause.

Plastered on the walls were crude drawings (did her spawn make these?) of writhing tentacles (he thinks they are supposed to be tentacles), something resembling the head of a goat, and another with curved back hind legs like a – (kangaroo)?

“YOU CAME!”

Vera ran excited circles around him and before he could form a response, began to climb up him as though he were a tree.

Hands gripped the back of his linen tunic, fingers tangled in the black, silken waterfall of his hair, which she used like a rope to propel herself up, up, up until she was able to encircle her arms around his neck. Long legs clamped around his chest, hooking at the ankles where a normal, human breastplate should be.

Giggling like a demented three year old high on sugar the Gypsy latched herself to him like a leech. Anyone else and ragdoll physics would have been employed but the Pharaoh became still, still as death, and waited.

Rapid fire she shot her words out to him, her accent slurring vowels and dropping consonants, leaving emphasis in all the wrong places. The gist of it:

“I just want to express how thankful I am for all the coffee and OhmyGod, I did more work and research than I ever have before! Now, I know I was not supposed to look into all those old, old, old books you have but I only snagged the one and took the teeniest, tiniest of peeks! It took forever! Lifetimes! For me to decipher some of it and when I did – ooooooh wow!”

The rest was lost in a mixture of Romanian, Romani, and ….

… It was then the Pharaoh realized he had made a terrible mistake.

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The truth of this occurrence was far darker than one could imagine.

While one might assume the Pharaoh hadn’t intended for this to happen, at all, it was more along the lines he hadn’t intended for this to happen now.

This was always going to happen, this was nature at its base core taking place, and unfolding beautifully before his eyes.

Vera laughed until her throat felt raw or was that from the occasional shrieking? Or the sobbing? Nothing made sense anymore and she was left dancing on a knife’s precipice, leaving her bloody and butchered. She had been warned oh – she had been warned countless of times but she didn’t listen.

Did she ever listen, truly?

He counted on her short comings like the most studious of bankers.

It was a miasmas that filtered through her conscious thought, bringing with it visions of faceless monstrosities and a huge hulking figure buffered by a tumultuous sea. It was a glimpse of a possible future - of fallen cities and humanity exuberant in its own destruction. Visions of maggots crawling in the dirt, devouring visceral fat, and centipedes burrowing into her ears. The hysterical cries of mothers, chased by the heartbreaking silence from infants.

Vera fought and fought against it, and when she feared becoming consumed and lost – the Crawling Chaos appeared before her and in her delirium, saw him as her Savior. This is what compelled her to rush at him, to cling to him like the proverbial rock in her storm.

There was an aurora borealis of light surrounding the Pharaoh as though this cosmic light (energy) resonated from his very essence. And as bright it appeared to Vera it was also abyssal – depthless.

She had no control, no more barriers to keep her safe, and with every mental guard down she took him in whole. Siphoning energy from him and spooling it dangerously to become her own bindings – she bounded herself to him, unwittingly!

For several terrifying moments, where clarity dared to intrude, she realized she could no longer tell where he began or she ended.

The Pharaoh is an ouroboros – there is no beginning, there is no end.

Gasping out, choking on her own air, she clenched her hands into the endless black spill of his hair, and fought the convulsions that wrecked her body. There was no more peering through a glass darkly – for in this moment she could clearly see the Truth of what he is, and this was the price she paid.

She is a Daughter of Eve and hungered to eat more of the Tree, to bite into the crisp flesh of fruit to better satisfy her yearning.

Her eyes had been bigger than her stomach.

She should’ve of listened to all the warnings.

Whimpering now, her hold on him becoming as unstable as her mind, Vera started to slip and would have fallen had it been for the Pharaoh grasping at her legs ‘round his chest. Left to sway Vera experienced a moment of non-gravity before he let go and the floor rushed up to meet her.

Blacking out is a mercy he doesn’t allow her to have.

#bad writing #i tried

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