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sadomas0chist · 3 years

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perfect strangers

MINORS DNI // 18+

part one; part two; part three

genre: nsfw // fluff

pairings: jean kirschtein x female reader

word count: 4k

tags/warnings: slow burn (?), penetrative sex, dom jean, praising kink, slight breeding kink, oral sex (male receiving), fluff, confessions, cute jean (yes this needs a warning) cheesiness.

synopsis: you discover something jean has been keeping for himself and it ends up adding all the puzzle pieces together.

a.n: i don’t usually add songs for you to listen to while reading my work, but if you want to get in the mood stream Last Days Of Summer by Summer Walker. thank me later.

i would also like to add that this was meant to be a short series. i got other fan-fiction ideas and need to answer some of your requests. also, i know this part is kind of cheesy but jean is a big softie i can’t help it.

“Connie, what’s taking you so long?” I yelled from our porch, swirling my car keys around my finger. I heard more shuffling coming from our apartment before Connie rushed out, Jean following him, throwing his hoodie on, covering the shirt that was squeezing his muscles.

“I was looking for my dab pen,” he took a hit and blew the smoke in my face. I coughed pushing his shoulder making him miss the step and almost colliding with the ground. I snickered and walked past Jean to my car door before he grabbed my arm and pushed me back.

“Passenger seat babe.” he looked down at me with his lazy smile. I scoffed swatting his arm away, only to be lifted from the ground. “Jean you prick!” I yelled moving my legs around.

“And I’m the kid.” Connie laughed getting in the backseat, clearly not suspicious of his homie’s behavior. I sighed getting into the passenger seat and crossed my arms.

Jean mirrored my action, before cussing, as he felt squeezed by how tiny the space was. “Damn aren’t you a small thing?” he teased backing up the seat so he could feel more comfortable. He smacked my thigh making my eyes widen. I looked down to see him holding out his hand, motioning me to give him the keys. I rolled my eyes and slammed them down his hand. He chuckled before shaking his head and mumbled something underneath his breath.

He wrapped his arm around my seat, tilting his head backward, putting the car in reverse, and slowly drove back. He winked at me before he shifted gears. The car ride was basically Connie singing out loud to songs and Jean casually joining in, their interaction reminding me of Hitch and I.

After what happened last night, I texted the girls’ group chat and told them everything that happened and how Jean was suddenly becoming more and more possessive which was honestly uncalled for. If I want to overthink it, he was always somewhat flirtier with me than he was with any girl when we used to hang out back in the day. However, Sasha and Mikasa didn’t elaborate much into it as they told me to shrug it off, whilst Hitch was rather excited about me having a ‘sneaky link’.

And honestly, I’d be lying if I said he didn’t turn me on… I mean look at him. He’s at least 6 feet tall with sexy sleeve tattoos and a gorgeous mullet. His stubble fit him perfectly and his jaw was sharp. He looked so different and delicious.

“We’re here!” Connie shouted into my ear, shaking me off of my thoughts. Jean had already parked and was taking his seatbelt off. I followed his gesture and got out of the car, carefully closing the door behind me, Connie already outside taking a few hits of his dab pen. Our gaze locked, his lips instantly forming into a smile as he threw his arm around my shoulders and brought my head closer to his lips, kissing my temple. I grinned wrapping my hand around his torso and leaned my head on his shoulder.

I was lucky to have a brother like him. He always made sure I was okay and had everything I need and wanted. He was my support system and I couldn’t ask for more. “All good?” he mumbled, tilting his slightly towards Jean who was typing something on his phone, probably waiting for us before going into the diner.

I nodded and he squeezed my arm. “Come on, let’s go inside, the weather is chilly today.” Jean held the door open as we walked in and spotted an empty table. It was connected to a couch, two other chairs placed on the opposite side of the table.

I sat on the couch, my back relaxing into the soft red leather, before feeling the seat dip next to me. I tilted my head, only to be met with Jean’s cocky expression. Connie managed to sit on one of the chairs and tapped his fingers on the wooden table. “Y’all in the mood for burger and fries?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking starving,” Jean stated leaning back into his seat, spreading his legs. I nodded and took out my phone from my pocket setting it on the table. We called over for the waitress and placed our orders. “I forgot to ask you, how are your studies going y/n?” he added, dropping his head on his fist that rested against the wood and looked at me. Connie rested his elbows on the table, intrigued by the conversation.

“I’m doing good actually. I still have some things to get done and I’ll finally have some free time for myself. I honestly can’t wait until I’m done with this semester. It’s so tough and for what.” I whined, dropping my head against my crossed arms. His hand wrapped around my shoulder and pushed me towards him, my head colliding with his chest. Taken off guard, my arms wrapped around his torso. “Aw, come on you’ll do great, you got nothing to worry about.” he patted my head and gently stroked my hair. I blushed at his move, my stomach forming a knot. He was being extremely soft and gentle and I'd be lying if I said that it wasn't surprising.

“Here you go.” the waitress cheered placing our food down. She eyed Jean before averting her gaze from him as he pushed me closer to him, my head closer to his chest. I breathed into his cologne and managed to hear his heartbeat. Fast. His heart was beating so fucking fast.

Connie didn’t seem to mind as he laughed at his phone before turning it to Jean, showing him the picture of a half-naked model showing off her ass, a man who looked to be her boyfriend standing next to her. “Baldie I’m still here.” I scrunched my face. “Although the dude is kinda hot,” I added. Once the following words left my lips, Jean’s hand swiftly moved down my ass to grab it, making me slightly jump. I looked up to see him glaring down at me then looked back at Connie’s phone. Did this just happen?

“Doesn’t she have a boyfriend?” He cocked his eyebrow making Connie roll his eyes. “Man you used to like it when I showed you pictures like that." he shook his head locking his phone. He stayed silent for a few seconds before pointing at Jean with a big grin. "Oh my god, you are seeing someone!” he whispered.

I removed myself from Jean’s grasp and adjusted my clothes as I dived into my food, enjoying the warm feeling down my throat. “Nah dude, although I must admit that I've been thinking nonstop about someone lately,” he confessed taking a bite of his burger, Connie doing vulgar movements with his hands before he did the same.

“Jesus Connie,” I whined throwing a fried potato at him. “We’re eating.”

“Um, excuse me?” He scoffed as Jean laughed, muttering a small 'here we go', obviously aware of what my brother was about to say next. “The Jean Kirschtein I know doesn’t catch feelings. This dude is a damn sex machine. Which I can relate to but you know what I’m saying." he raised his hands up. "Now tell me, who got you so wrapped around their fingers you can’t even flirt with other women now?” He paused before adding, “ And don’t think I forgot how you pushed off that girl who tried to grind on you two days ago at the club.” I frowned, all of this not making any sense to me. How could he be sleeping with me but seeing someone else at the same time?

I felt sick, my fingers dropping the sauce I was about to pour on my fries as I excused myself to the bathroom. I made my way into the small area and looked at my reflection. I felt dirty. I felt used. Was I going to wreck a whole relationship? Or whatever he calls it.

The door swung open minutes after, revealing Jean. He had a serious expression on his face as he approached me, my ass now pressed against the sink, his tall frame towering me.

“Why’d you leave?” he questioned moving my hair from my face, cupping my cheeks. “I wanted to wash my hands,” I replied trying to free myself from his grasp but miserably failed. I frowned as I tried to push him away again, but his hands grabbed my wrists holding them down. “I don’t believe you, I think you got jealous,” he smirked, his lips inches away from mine. I glared at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction he was seeking.

“Jean let me go. Someone might walk in and Connie is waiting for us outside, also, the food won’t stay hot for long and I want to-“

“I was talking about you silly.” he interrupted me, his thumb now rubbing my bottom lip. “You’re so fucking gorgeous it’s unreal,” he mumbled. “Can I kiss you?”

What was happening… I stared into his eyes that were focusing on my lips. Could he be telling the truth? What if he just wants to get in my- oh wait, he already did… Fuck that was so overwhelming.

“Jean I don’t think it’s a good idea-“

“Yes or no?” I thought for a moment before softly nodding. “I need to hear it.”

“I want you to kiss me…” I whispered almost as if I didn’t want anyone to hear me, including him. I’ve always felt different around Jean and I never knew why, at least until now. He smiled lifting my head up with his finger under my chin, his lips resting against mine gently. My hands gripped onto his hoodie, kissing him with much passion.

I felt safe. I felt good. I felt content.

“You got my heart working overtime, y/n.” he confessed. I wasn’t able to process everything as it all felt like a fever dream. What if I just wake up and it turns out to be a dream. Did he just confess that he likes me in a diner’s restroom? My heart was beating so fast, my thoughts furiously rushing through my brain.

After Jean left to study in France, we never kept in touch. It is true that we used to be friends because of his friendship with Connie and it always felt different from my other friendships with other men like Eren or Reiner, but the distance and the lack of communication turned us into strangers and killed the ‘connection’ that was bonding us. I thought it was just a tiny teenage crush, but ever since he came back, everything returned to the way it used to be.

“Connie is probably getting worried about me.” I said making him let go of my grasp, his eyes still holding the same expression as before. I made my way out of the restrooms and slid my hands into my pockets. “Hey, I was about to follow you, you good?”

“Absolutely.” I smiled at him and sat back down taking small bites of my food.

“Y/n, you know you can talk to me about anything right?” he took a sip of his soda looking at me worryingly. “Of course, I’m fine really.” I reached out to squeeze his hand. A few minutes went by and Jean was back on the table with us. We jumped from a conversation to another, casually laughing as we brought back the old days.

Connie proposed to drive back and we didn’t mind since we both fell full from the food. Jean sat in the passenger seat as I lead down on the backseat, texting the girls every single detail of what happened today. It didn’t take them long to start bombarding me with replies.

‘Holy fuck he said what now? He’s fucking WHIPPED.’

‘I did hear him saying something about a girl when we hung out with Connie four days ago but I would have never thought that it would be about you…’

Seriously Sasha? I sighed and locked my phone dropping it on my chest. It didn’t take us long to arrive at the apartment we were now sharing with him.

***

I dropped on my bed, stripped down naked as my blanket was the only material covering me. I thought about what Jean told me back in that diner. I sighed closing my eyes. As I was almost about to fall asleep, my phone chimed on my nightstand.

I reached out to grab it, the message showing on my lock-screen making me open wildly my eyes.

-jean

you up? if you are, can i come into ur room?

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over my keyboard, occasionally typing something then deleting it.

-me

why? wassup?

It didn’t take him long to text me back.

-jean

i can’t sleep and i want to talk to you

I sighed typing a simple ‘okay’ and got up to put a shirt on. I heard a light knock on my door as I slid on the fabric, my hand reaching out to turn the doorknob.

“Hi,” I stepped aside, indicating him to come in before carefully closing the door. He sat on my bed and tapped on the mattress. I sat next to him and waited for him to talk about whatever he’s been wanting to get off his chest.

“About what I said earlier, uhm,” he cleared his throat.

“If you’re here to say that you didn’t mean it, you could have said it over text.” I assumed raising my eyebrow. It wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened to me and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with any bullshit, especially after getting my feelings mixed up. If he was about to mess around, I should do the same and ignore whatever I was feeling, hoping it would fade away over time.

“No, why would I do that?” he frowned and looked at me weirdly. Oh well, spoke too soon I guess. “I just wanted to make sure I didn’t make you uncomfortable. Listen y/n,” he paused searching for the words. “I don’t want you to think I’m doing this to get laid. We made an agreement and if I just wanted to have sex with you I wouldn’t have said anything about well, liking you.”

I stayed silent waiting for him to finish. The moonlight was the only source of light in the room as it peeked through my window. It was quite peaceful. “I think, no, I know I’ve liked you for a while. I never acted on it because your brother once threatened me jokingly about messing me up if I hurt you, and regarding the person I used to be, I would have most probably ended up hurting you and because of that, I decided to sleep on whatever I was feeling and hoped I'd move on from it. But holy fuck you and grew into such a smart and beautiful woman, I couldn’t help but let my feelings for you emerge again.” He cupped my cheek with his hand bringing me closer.

Fucking hell someone pinch me right now, I must be dreaming.

“However if you don’t like me back, or don’t want to hook up with me anymore, I’d totally understand.” I stared at him as I felt like I was looking at a different person. Now I get why Connie was so surprised when he heard Jean talking like that back at the diner. That wasn’t the Jean I was used to, or at least the Jean he became when he left for college. I wasn’t familiar with this new character development if I might call it.

“Why… why are you telling me all of this now?” I whispered, shifting in my seat to sit closer to him, our knees slightly brushing against each other. He brought his hand around the nape of my neck and pulled me closer to him. “You got my mind going crazy.” and with that, I pressed my lips against his, instantly feeling his lips kiss me back.

I straddled his lap and slid my tongue between his lips, our kiss sloppy and slow. His hands moved down to grip my ass, pushing me further to him, my bare cunt brushing against the soft fabric of his shorts. A moan escaped my lips as he gripped the hem of my shirt, lifting it, my nipples exposed to the chilly air. "Wait..." I pulled away and rested my hands on his chest. "We're gonna have to tell Connie."

He smiled and reached out to kiss me again. "First thing tomorrow. I don't think your brother is that oblivious anyway." he chuckled and squeezed my hips. I laughed, bringing his face closer to mine kissing him gently.

Our make-out session became more urgent ad rushed. Jean lied back, his hands resting on my waist as I took off my shirt. His hands reached out to grab my breast, fondling it with his big hand. My hips moved against him, the feeling of wanting to be filled by him becoming unshakeable. Removing myself off his hips, I crawled down and pulled down his sweats along with his briefs, his erection slapping against his stomach. I smirked at him as I began pumping his length, soft groans escaping his lips. I swirled my tongue over his tip and slit before sliding him down my throat, coating him with my spit. "Shit," his hips bucked forward, his cock going deeper down my throat. I started bobbing my head, my tongue running over his underside, feeling the pulsation of his prominent vein. Our eyes locked, his mouth agape and his chest slightly rising from his deep breathing. His hand fell on his eyes as he threw his head back, his fat cock now throbbing.

“Y/n, ah, fuck-“ he hissed grabbing a fistful of my hair and guided my head. I knew he was close and it made me wet as well. My fingers were already rubbing circles on my sensitive bud, my climax as close as his. I removed his dick from my mouth and straddled his lap. I aligned him to my entrance and slowly sunk onto him, sighs leaving both of our lips.

He felt insanely deep within me, his size stretching perfectly. I rested my hands on his chest as I ground on him, his hand lacing around my neck to bring me closer to him, his lips capturing mine in a passionate kiss. His tongue slipped in my mouth as his hand made their way to my ass, squeezing my cheeks and moving me upwards. I moaned into his mouth, my nipples brushing against his chest. I sat back up, my hands prompted back on his chest as I bounced my ass on him.

“Ride my cock baby just like that.” he moaned out. We were both already close to our orgasm, the sensitivity sending us off the edge. “You ride me so good, but-“ he sat up pushing me off him. “I want to fuck it in you,” he smirked pulling me off the bed and walking me to the wall, my back pressed against it. He wrapped his arms underneath my thighs and lifted me up, my legs snaking around him.

“Now stay quiet while I stuff you eh?” he breathed, pushing his tip inside me before thrusting his hips forward, almost hitting my cervix. My face hid in the crook of his neck, doing my best to silence my moans. My back moved against the cold wall, his whimpers and moans growing louder in my ear.

I shut my eyes close when he began rolling his hips faster, my orgasm rushing through my body. “Jean…” I whimpered tugging on his hair, my heels digging in his back. My arm was wrapped underneath his, my fingers scratching his back. I clenched around him making him hiss and fuck me harder, indicating that he was also close to reaching his climax.

“You wanna come with me?” I nodded staring at him with half-lidded eyes. “Yeah…” I mumbled out, biting down on my lower lip to keep quiet. “Yeah?” he mocked with a smirk before he started kissing my neck, occasionally leaving small bites next to my collarbone.

I wrapped my arms tighter around him, my thighs shaking as my orgasm ripped through me. He quickly followed ropes of cum shooting inside me. He whimpered, stroking himself a little bit more before pulling out and carefully putting me down. As soon as my feet touched the floor, his semen began leaking out of my opening down my leg.

“Well shit better clean that.” he ran his fingers up my legs before pushing his cum back in me making me gasp. “You’re good now,” he smirked before lifting me off again, this time in bridal style as he walked me to the bed, carefully putting me down. “I would’ve loved to shower with you,” he stroked my cheek, his body hovering over me. “But I don’t want your brother walking in on us like that. At least not before I tell him everything.” he poked my nose before kissing my forehead.

I nodded my head, smiling at him. “I like you so fucking much,” he admitted once again, this time his lips kissing mine.

“I like you too.” he cocked an eyebrow at my confession. “I knew it,” he whispered and kissed my cheek.

***

“Uhh, back the fuck up.” Connie pointed at Jean who was wrapping his arm around me in the kitchen. “You two like each other?” he waved his finger between us before stuffing his fork in his mouth again. I nodded and pushed myself closer to Jean. “Oh no.” he groaned pushing himself off his stool.

“No no no no no…” he repeated in annoyance as he walked past us. I frowned, turning to see him throwing himself on the couch. He threw his head back, another groan leaving his lips as he ran his hands us his face.

“I thought you’d be happy for me, what’s-“

“You had sex while I was in here?” he accused us dramatically in a high-pitched voice, faking his tears. Jean instantly laughed at his friend’s accusation. I let out a sigh of relief and shook my head before laughing at Connie who was fake gagging.

“We only did it the night you saw us together.” I played off. Connie gave me a ‘you think I’m stupid’ look and sighed.

“It was an everyday thing.” Jean corrected making me elbow his waist. He winced pinching my hip earning another hit. “Seriously man?” Connie whined. I mean, at least he wasn’t mad about us liking each other. The only thing that irked him, which is by the way overdramatized and ends up being one of his silly plays, is the fact that I had sex with him when he was sound asleep.

Connie sighed, his annoyed expression turning into a sly one. “I knew you two were fucking!” he laughed sticking his tongue out and clapping his hands. “Now that I’m positive that my sister got cuffed by someone I trust, I can finally sleep in peace.” I rolled my eyes before raising my hand to smack him but Jean pulled me closer to him making it impossible for me to move.

I looked up only to be met with his browns orbs already looking down at me with pure adoration. I could tell he was going to be one of the best things that have ever happened to me and I couldn’t be more thankful. Connie was still talking but I didn’t hear a word he said. Instead, I buried my face into his red hoodie and held him tightly. Who would have thought that my insignificant crush would actually make me feel so lucky?

“-she was and still is everything I’ve always wanted.” I heard him say before kissing my forehead.

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homoose · 3 years

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Quick Learner, Slow Lover: Part II

Summary: Literally just a 40 Year Old Virgin AU. This time, reader shows Spencer a whole new world of possibilities.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut, 18 + (minors DNI)

Warnings/Includes: oral (both receiving), fingering, I think that’s it actually

Word count: 4.3k

a/n: Huge thanks to all the babies on my sideblog @softspence for helping with the inspiration for this one, and @gubetube for being my beta! ♥️ virgin!Spence is near and dear to my heart.

Series Masterlist

———

After their first escapade, Spencer was called away on a case in southern California. A week into the BAU’s investigation in the desert didn’t have them any closer to solving it, and the team retreated to their respective hotel rooms for a few hours of rest. The second his head hit the pillow, Spencer’s phone was out and dialing.

She picked up on the third ring, stifling a yawn. “Hi.”

“Hi. Sorry it’s so late,” he apologized.

“It’s okay.” He could hear her snuggling down under the covers. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” He brought one of the hotel pillows closer, cuddling up against it and letting out a sigh. “I was thinking we could go to that new restaurant around the corner from you when I get back to DC.”

“Mmm, yeah, that sounds nice,” she agreed. He heard her sigh a little into the phone, then she continued, “We could also, um— try some more things.”

His head was constantly full of their first night together, and he basically had not stopped thinking about more things since he’d come in his pants on the couch. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Good, because the possibilities are endless, Dr. Reid.”

He let his eyes close, let a smile play over his features, and let his mind relax for a second… and then his eyes were shooting open, and his brain was on overdrive, running through the pieces of the case in rapid succession. “I— I think I just figured something out. I— I have to go. I’ll— can I call you later?”

She laughed a little on the other end. “Go save some lives, Spence.”

The team stumbled off the jet less than 24 hours later, exhausted but more than satisfied with the outcome of the case— in large part thanks to Spencer’s late night epiphany.

“O’Keefe’s for a round?” Luke asked. “First one’s on me.”

There were murmurs of agreement from everyone... except Spencer. “Sorry, guys— rain check,” he called, already halfway across the bullpen and pulling on his jacket. He was through the double doors before anyone could ask any questions.

He loved the team, and he’d come to enjoy nights out with them, but right now he had more pressing matters to deal with. As he navigated the darkened streets of DC, he considered the predicament he’d found himself in. They were going on two months of official dating, but they’d been sort of seeing each other for nearly a month before that.

Even before he’d met her, Penelope had gushed about her constantly— a wonderful friend that she’d made through her new job, kind and smart and funny and lovely. What Penelope hadn’t mentioned was how beautiful she was— and he’d subsequently made a fool of himself when they first met: staring and stumbling over his words.

She hadn’t seemed to mind, and over the course of the evening, she’d proven to be every bit as lovely as Penelope had described, and then some.

He pulled up outside her apartment, shutting the door and hauling himself and his go-bag out of the car and up the sidewalk. He ran a slightly self conscious hand over his hair, checked his appearance in the glass of the foyer door, and then buzzed her apartment.

She buzzed him in, and he took the stairs two at a time, rounding the landing just to see her opening the door. The second he dropped his bag, he was wrapping her up in a hug and knocking the breath out of her. She expelled the air into his shoulder and then laughed as he clung to her.

“Well, hello to you, too,” she teased.

“I missed you,” he murmured, too content to be embarrassed.

Her arms came around him, and she squeezed him tight in response. “I missed you, too.” She held onto him for a moment longer before pulling back. “You must be exhausted. Are you hungry?”

Almost as if on cue, his stomach growled loud enough for them both to hear it. She cackled at his sheepish smile. “Chinese, Indian, or pizza?”

…

An hour later, they were two slices deep and cuddled together on the couch at the end of an episode of Dr. Who. She was tucked under his arm, her warm palm low on his tummy, her thumb rubbing a slow, repetitive path. As the credits rolled, she lifted her head to smile at him. “Tired?”

“A little.” His brain couldn’t focus on anything other than the warmth of her body pressed up against him, her hand so close to where he was desperate for her. He wanted her, but he didn’t know how to ask. “We can… try some things, though,” he decided on.

She brushed his hair back and met his eyes. “We don’t have to. Just because we did, doesn’t mean we’re obligated to every time we’re together.” She tilted her head. “You know that, right?”

He could feel the flush flooding his cheeks immediately, and he dropped his gaze and cleared his throat. “Yeah, of course.” Of course she didn’t want to do anything more with him. He was probably terrible at it before, and she just didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He shifted to stand from the couch, gathering up their plates and turning to bring them to the kitchen, desperate for a minute to collect himself.

He could feel her eyes on him. “Spence?” He set the plates in the sink, taking a deep breath and then turning to see that she’d followed him. She pressed her lips together, considering him with kind eyes. “You wanna let me in on whatever it is you’re thinking?”

He hesitated, tapping his fingers on the tops of his thighs, before deciding he should just come out with it. “I know I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to… sex.” The last part came out in a low murmur— it seemed lewd to discuss this in the middle of her kitchen. “I’m sorry it wasn’t very good for you, and I’m not exactly sure how to fix that, but—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she chuckled. “Slow your roll. When did I ever say it wasn’t good for me?”

The memory of her— in his lap, her head thrown back, his fingers on her, his name falling from her lips— was suddenly on repeat in his mind. “I, um— I guess you didn’t.”

“I definitely didn’t,” she confirmed, stepping a little closer. “In fact, I’ve been thinking about it… a lot.”

His eyebrows shot into his hairline. “You have?”

“Mmhmm.” She brought her hand back to his tummy, just above his waistband, then ran it up the line of buttons on his shirt, stopping just above his heart. She met his gaze with soft eyes. “I just didn’t want you to think that— that sex is all I want to do with you. Or that you have to rush to make me happy. And it’s important that you know that if you’re tired, or overwhelmed, or just not in the mood, I don’t— you know, expect you to have sex with me.”

His heart leapt into his throat at the way she curled her fingers in his collar, the way she smiled quietly while he collected his thoughts, the way she gave him grace and space to consider his wants and needs. He was dangerously in love already, and he wasn’t sure quite how to say it without being the stupid virgin who fell in love with the first person he slept with.

And even with all of these thoughts of content and love and uncertainty swirling through his brain… he still really wanted to fuck her.

“I’m not that tired,” he breathed.

Her smile turned mischievous, and he swallowed audibly. “Well, then. We can start working through those possibilities?”

He was on her before she even finished the question, his mouth hot and hungry, his tongue sliding against hers, his hands on her waist and steering her toward her bedroom. She grinned as he trailed kisses down her throat and then where her t-shirt cut low along her collarbone. She turned them as they made it to the bed and pushed him to sit, breaking his mouth away from where it had been sucking a pretty pink mark.

She dropped to her knees and ran a firm hand over his cock through his trousers. He was wholly and completely unprepared for the sight of her looking up at him from in between his legs, and he momentarily forgot any and all plans he’d had. She paused to push her hair back out of her face, and he came to his senses.

“Wait.” She looked up at him, slightly confused. “I wanted to, um—”

When he didn’t continue, she tilted her head with an encouraging smile. “You wanted to what?”

“I wanted to, um— eat you out,” he said, and he could feel the flush in his ears. “Before. Because I get kind of sleepy after I come, and I— well, I can already tell I’m not gonna last long once you start, um…”

“Blowing you?” she prompted, and now she was just teasing him.

“Y-yeah.” He ran a nervous hand down his neck. “Is that okay?”

She stood up and stepped closer into his space, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling his head back slightly. “Well, that depends. Did you read up on the literature?”

He returned her teasing smile, already more at ease. “You know I did.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips before stepping back to pull her shirt up over her head. She smirked at the way his eyes went wide and traveled over her form. His mouth dropped open as he tracked her hands, running down over her bare chest, her torso, and then to the waistband of her sweatpants. She pushed the pants down over her hips and let them pool at her feet, stepping out and back in between his legs. “So, what did the experts say?”

He swallowed audibly as she brought his hands to her chest. “Well, um,” he started, palms cupping her breasts. “Um, firstly— start slow. And vary— vary your attention,” he said, squeezing them lightly and brushing his thumbs over her hardened nipples.

He looked up at her face for guidance, and she smiled. “Then by all means— give me all the attention.”

He leaned forward immediately, tongue and teeth sucking and grazing and nipping at the soft skin of her breasts. He alternated between the two, drew each nipple into his mouth and moaned a little around them at the way she gasped when his teeth dragged on her skin. Her hands found purchase in his curls, tangling and tugging and holding him against her. He brought a hand down to her waist and pulled her in closer, slid his palm over her lace-covered ass and dug his fingers in, eliciting a very pretty sound from her throat.

He pressed his mouth once more to the valley in between her breasts, then stood and brought his hands to her face, leaning down to meet her in a soft kiss. He turned to have her sit back on the bed, and she stretched out over the pillows and pulled him down over her. He kissed her again, and then dragged his mouth down the column of her throat.

“Secondly,” he continued, “work your way down.” He did just that, his lips and tongue drawing out goosebumps and shivers as he moved down her body. When he reached the waistband of her underwear, he hooked his fingers into it, and she lifted her hips to allow him to pull them down her legs.

He started a path back up her legs, kissing her ankles, her shins, her knees. He ghosted his fingers over her thigh, silently asking for permission to continue. She let her legs fall open, and he made himself comfortable in between them. The reality hit him then— that as she opened her legs, she also opened herself up to him— all the most vulnerable and precious parts of her. His breath caught in his throat as he found her gaze on him, soft and sweet and steady.

He turned his head to kiss a path along her inner thigh, moving closer and closer to her center. He fanned his warm breath over her, and then he licked carefully around the hood of her clit, gentle at first. He flattened his tongue on either side of it, then pointed it to flick across once, twice, three times. Her hand immediately came down to tangle in his hair, and her hips twitched as he dragged his tongue flat over it.

“I don’t really understand the phenomenon of men being unable to find the clitoris,” he remarked, and then closed his mouth around it.

She let out a long, low moan when he sucked it between his lips, and her grip on his hair tightened. He alternated the suction with the swirl of his tongue around the hood, and she squirmed against the bed. He laid his forearm low across her hips to keep her still, and then he brought his thumb up to swipe at her entrance, and he moaned around her at the feel.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he breathed. He brought his thumb, slick with her arousal, up to her clit and rubbed firm circles over it. “How’s that for pressure? Too hard?”

“N-no, oh— Spence, oh my god,” she whined.

“Do you prefer to rub side to side or in a circle?” He demonstrated each option, and she choked out his name again.

She drew in a shaky inhale, exhaled out, “Both, both, both.”

He sucked an open mouthed kiss to her inner thigh, then looked up to see her staring at him. “Do you like penetration? Or just clitoral stimulation?” he asked, stroking his thumb side to side over her clit.

She huffed out a breath. “You— god, you can finger me.”

He popped his index finger into his mouth, slicking it with spit and thinking of everything he’d read about it. He teased the pad of his finger around her slit, gathering up the wetness that had spilled out of her. “I’ll start with one? Make sure it’s slicked up, and then you can tell me if you’d like me to add another?”

She hummed in agreement, and he began to press inside of her. She took his finger easily, and he dropped his forehead to her thigh. “God, you’re— you’re so tight.” He withdrew his finger and then slipped it back in, groaning at the slickness. “Can you, um— can you tell me if this is— is this doing anything for you?” He probed gently, searching for the spot inside her that he knew might actually be difficult to find.

“Um— up, up,” she gasped. “Like, curl it up toward the ceiling and then sort of dra-a-a-g, oh, oh, oh.”

He followed her directions, curling his finger up and dragging it on the out stroke, and she was throwing her head back with a moan of his name. He repeated the motion over and over and then brought his mouth back to her clit. Both her hands came down to yank at his hair, and he groaned, causing her hips to jerk against his mouth.

“M-more, Spence, more, so close,” she whined.

When he withdrew his finger, he slipped a second one in beside it and then continued the curl-drag-thrust pattern while sucking and swirling his tongue around her clit. Her moans increased in frequency and volume, and he felt her squeeze impossibly tight around his fingers. He rutted into the bed as her grip on his hair held him still against her clit as she came.

She let out a final gasp of his name, and then she relaxed around him and her grip on his hair went slack. He slipped his fingers out of her, stared at them in relative awe as they glistened with her come. He sucked them into his mouth to clean them off, relatively surprised by how much he enjoyed the taste. He leaned forward and dragged his tongue over her, cleaning her up and savoring the way she lingered in his mouth.

“Shit, Spence,” she mumbled, grasping at his shoulder. “C’mere.”

He lifted his head and wiped his forearm across his chin. He watched her eyes go a little wide, and then she was dragging him up her body and crashing their mouths together. “You are so fucking hot,” she whispered. “I cannot believe you’ve never done that before. Such a good listener, baby.”

His hips canted forward desperately at the praise, and she sighed happily against his mouth. “Wanna blow you.”

She pushed gently at his chest and he sat back to let her up. She slid off the bed and tugged on his hand to move him to sit with his legs off the side. “Can we take some things off?” she asked, gesturing to his fully clothed form.

He nodded, and she popped the button on his trousers while he started on the button up. They made quick work of both, and she dragged his pants and underwear down in one motion. He shrugged out of his shirt and she took a step back to take him in.

“You’re so pretty, Spence.” She dragged her finger up from his knee, over his thigh, the trail of hair on his tummy, his chest, his throat— her eyes tracking the motion. He watched her face as she did so, the way her pupils dilated with lust and her tongue came out to wet her lips. She finally settled on his face, smiling and leaning forward to press her lips to his.

When she broke the kiss, she brought both hands up to cradle his face. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. If anything doesn’t feel good, just say so. You can put your hands on my head, pull my hair, whatever you like. If I want you to stop, I’ll tell you. Okay?”

“Okay,” he rasped.

She kissed him again, and then dropped to her knees and took him in hand. The vision of her— naked, post-orgasm, looking up at him with his cock poised at her mouth— was so absolutely and gloriously filthy that he almost came on the spot.

“You’re so big, Spence.” The wonderment seeped into her voice, and he couldn’t help but swell a little with pride. Her warm palm stroked over him, root to tip, and he fisted his hands in the duvet. “What was step one again?” she asked.

“Um. S-start slow,” he recalled.

She hummed in agreement, and then trailed the fingers of her free hand over the inside of his thigh. She turned her mouth to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to the other, slowly inching up closer to where she held him in her hand.

“Your skin is soft,” she murmured. Her nose brushing against the crease of this thigh. She switched sides, moved his cock into her other hand to trail her fingers over where her mouth had been. She sucked a mark into his thigh and then dragged her tongue over it, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

And then she shifted back to the center, flattened her tongue, and ran it up the vein on the underside of his cock. “Oh my god,” he whispered.

She huffed out a laugh and the way her warm breath cooled the trail of spit she’d left had him shivering. “God, this is gonna be so fun,” she murmured.

She held his cock up straight with one hand and repeated the motion of her tongue twice more, and then pressed a kiss to the tip. She held her tongue out flat and rubbed it along the underside of the head, running it along the divide between the tip and the shaft. And then she closed her mouth around the head and swirled her tongue around it, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Fuck, Y/N.” His knuckles turned white as he gripped the sheets, and then he felt her free hand tug at his fist. He opened his eyes as she guided his fingers into her hair. She locked eyes with him and then sucked gently on the tip of his cock. He fisted his hand and tugged, and she closed her eyes and moaned around him.

The vibration of her voice had his hips thrusting forward a little into her mouth, and she pulled back with a grin. He couldn’t even form the words to apologize before she was licking down his shaft and murmuring, “Mm, and vary the attention, right?”

With that, she laved her tongue over his balls, slicking them up with her spit. He realized he’d been holding his breath, sucking in a gasp as she sucked one of them into her mouth. She hummed around it and then let it out with a soft pop, moving to draw the other one in. He hadn’t even considered that he would enjoy having his balls in her mouth, but now that they were there he knew he’d literally never stop thinking about it.

She pulled back to take a breath, bringing a hand up to cup and massage his balls and stroke over his length at the same time. “Step two?” she prompted, looking up at him from in between his legs.

“Work your way down,” he reminded her, petting over her hair in awe.

“Ah, yes.” She brought her mouth back to the tip, sticking out her tongue and rubbing it along the sensitive spot just under the head. She kept her mouth open and held him in hand, alternating between wet kisses and swirling her tongue. And then she sucked it into her mouth, still moving her tongue back and forth as she started to sink further down his length.

In his mind, he was singing her praises from the metaphorical rooftops, but in reality, her mouth was so hot and wet that all he could do was stare stupidly at the way his cock disappeared between her lips. She continued to massage his slick balls in her free hand as she took him in, inch by inch. Each time she pulled back to suckle the head, she stroked the circle of her other hand over the spit-covered length of him.

On the next pass down, he felt the head of his cock press into the back of her throat, and his hands shot to her hair, holding tight. “Holy shit, Y/N, I—” he choked on the rest of the sentence as she took him an inch further, then simultaneously sucked and pulled back to the tip.

She tapped the tip of his cock to her spit-slick smile, kissing it teasingly. “Do you wanna tell me what to do?”

“M-more of that,” he begged, watching as she dragged her lips down the side of his cock.

She chuckled, and the way it buzzed against the side of his cock had him short of breath. “Yeah— I thought you’d like that.” She pumped his length with her hand and then held her tongue out flat, bobbing her head until he hit the back of her throat.

When she pulled back, he watched a trail of spit drip down her chin, and felt his cock twitch at the idea of her quite literally drooling over him. He barely resisted the urge to pinch his thigh, not willing to wake himself up if this was actually a dream. He brought a hand to her chin and used his thumb to gather the spit, and then brought it up to suck it into his mouth.

Her mouth dropped open as she watched him swallow, and he briefly began to panic, but then she was surging upward to slot her mouth over his in a hot kiss. “How is everything you do so fucking hot?” she murmured against his lips.

“I could say the same for you,” he countered, kissing her again.

“I want you to come in my mouth, okay?” she asked.

He nodded vigorously. “Shit, yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t hold back,” she demanded, and then she was dropping back down to take him in again.

She left her mouth open, tongue laid flat, and took him into her throat— once, twice, three times. She choked around him and then pulled back to take a breath. She repeated this pattern again, and again, occasionally sucking on the head or even grazing her teeth just so. Spencer held her head between his hands, staring down at her with reverence. He couldn’t stop the litany of praise falling from his lips— mostly just gasps and moans of her name, but occasionally he found the mental capacity for so beautiful, or perfect mouth, or so good, baby.

He could feel his orgasm drawing closer with every press into her throat, so incredibly tight that it was dizzying. She pulled all the way off to jerk his cock, a tight circle of her fingers gliding along his length with a squelching sound. She squeezed the base of him, dropped her hand to tug at his balls, and sunk her mouth down his length, holding him in her throat and swallowing, moaning low and long around him.

She looked up at him then, and it was that which finally brought him over the edge— not that she was on her knees with his cock in her throat, but that she didn’t look away as he came undone. The fact that she was paying such close attention to him coupled with the trust and vulnerability required for this moment was too much to handle. His orgasm hit him like a train, his toes curling and fingers twitching in her hair as he came. She continued swallowing around him, and he fought to keep his eyes open, not willing to miss a single second of this moment.

When he was finished, she slowly drew back, sucking gently along his softening length and pressing a kiss to the head. He did close his eyes then, cradling her head in his hands and rubbing his thumbs along her cheeks. She used his thighs as leverage to pull herself up, and he heard her suck in a sharp breath. His eyes shot open to see her rubbing at her knees— red and a little raw.

“I’m sorry, I should have— I could have gotten you a pillow.” He pulled her closer and replaced her hands with his own, soothing the marks.

She laughed and brushed a reassuring hand over his hair. “Occupational hazard.”

The scratchy rasp of her voice had his cock twitching. “I know I don’t have anything to compare it to, but you’re unbelievably good at that.”

She brought her hands to his face, tilting it up to meet his eyes. “You’re not the only one who reads the literature.”

Her even tone and steady gaze proved she wasn’t teasing or mocking, and he fell just a little bit deeper in love. He met her halfway in a kiss that was infinitely and luminously sweet and wondered just what in the world he was going to do about that.

———

Permanent tags: @spacedikut @andiebeaword @averyhotchner @pinkdiamond1016 @shadyladyperfection @coffeeandendlesswords @justanothetfangirl @no-honey-no @ajeff855 @sapphic-prentiss @rexorangecouny @rainsong01 @blameitonthenight21 @moviequeen51 @90spumkin @reniescarlett @ncsls0515 @daybabyx @sturmmhond @takeyourleap-of-faith @saspencereid @calm-and-doctor @reidtheprettyboy @atabigail @ayo-cowbelly @muffin-cup @ssa-natalya-reid @wheelsup @reidingmelodies @this-is-gublerween @s1utformgg @reidemandweep @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @luwheezey @joalsglasses @je-suis-prest-rachel @dr-omalley @spencie-adams @honestimanormalfan @blurryreid

Series tags: @cielo1984 @dorotheuh @foreveryoungxx3 @happyreid187 @harrystylesholland @seasonfivereid @slut4spencie @kyomito

Broken tags: @radtwinkie

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid

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mxchellesworld · 3 years

Text

Attraction and Repulsion

Harry Styles x Reader

Synopsis; Where Harry is too much of an asshole for a proper relationship but too good in bed for you to leave

Warnings; mean!harry, arguments, name calling, smut, unprotected sex, creampies, degradation, impact play, choking,

a/n; harry styles fans come get yall juice!! ok i wont lie this kinda seems all over the place but i like it anyways. hope yall enjoy and please send some feedback:)

***

You thought it was real funny. It was absolutely hilarious how the whole world saw Harry as a sweet lad who wears big trousers and has fun nails. But you saw him for who he really was. Harry Styles was mean. Plain and simple.

But you loved it.

And as much as you tried to deny it, you both knew it was true. You were like magnets. When you weren’t absolutely repulsed by one another, starting an argument, you were wrapped up in each others sheets feeling the strongest attraction you’d ever felt for another person.

You were always stuck in a limbo of back and forth. Arguments and name calling over the phone leading to quick hang ups and the eventual knock on the door signaling he was there to deal with you the only way he knew how to put you in your place.

You were drawn to him like a moth to flame. And just like you, he was also too stubborn to admit that he’d want anyone else but you. No matter how cocky he got flaunting the fact that he could get any person in the world with just a smile and wink, he knew he’d never actually do it.

Under all the petty acts and insults there was the smallest bit of adoration he held for you and you only.

You had been lounging around your apartment when your phone chimed. It was one of your girlfriends sending you a link to a newspaper article. You hadn’t bothered to look at the title on the message before clicking on it and seeing the large cover photo on your screen.

Right there Harry and some model getting cozy after his last show. Big bold letters on the teen magazine reading ‘HARRY STYLES AND NEW BAE???’. You audibly scoffed.

It wasn’t like he was your boyfriend so you couldn’t really do much about it, you thought ignoring the small sting in your chest. Shaking off the feeling you skimmed the rest of the article then replied to the message, “she is kinda hot, maybe he’ll give me her number lol”

With that you threw your phone on the other side of the couch and started to get up. It was 3pm a little too early in your book to start drinking at home and especially too early to start letting him ruin your day.

Maybe it was time to start looking at other people. You were hot and single, living in a big city with other hot singles, it shouldn’t be too hard for you to find someone to get in a stable relationship with or at the bare minimum a good fuck for the night.

So you did what anyone else does and picked up your phone once again, going straight to the app store. Right on the front page was tinder and just for good measure you added bumble. Making the accounts were easy enough but selecting the pictures for your profile was tricky. You wanted a good amount of selfies and body shots. Cute pictures but also something risky enough to catch the eye.

Soon enough you were already swiping and giggling to yourself about the future prospects you had lined up. Meanwhile in a city about a few hundred miles from you Harry was sitting with a frown on his scowl on his face in the same predicament you were in earlier that day.

He was in his hotel room packing up and getting ready to head back home when his phone chimed. He looked over to see if it was his manager or someone from crew with any updates on departure times however it was one of his close friends.

At first he was expecting a sports update or an invitation to go to a bar when he got back but instead it was a screenshot of your tinder profile. When had you gotten that? he thought to himself.

It wasn’t like he could get mad since he knew he didn’t treat you the best. But that was just your dynamic, deep down you both cared for each other and even then it made for the best sex of his life.

Looking back down at the glowing screen he swiped through the few screenshots he was sent. Various pictures of you out with friends. The one that got him was a picture of you in the bathtub, your body was covered by the porcelain yet just enough of your chest just was showing in the mirror as you gave the camera your best sultry look.

Yet the real kicker was the bio where you included him in your top artists. He scoffed and shook his head, biting his lip as he clicked out from the messages app. Instead he called up his manager to get him on the fastest plane back home. If the blood wasn’t rushing to his face he knew he’d be hard as a rock but for now he’d save that frustration for when he saw you.

You knew tinder hookups were easy to get but you didn’t know just how easy. After spending the day scrolling away, putting your phone down for food and subtle chores you landed a ‘date’, which you really knew was ‘lets get tacos before we fuck on my couch’.

You had planned to meet at 8pm at some restaurant by your house. At 6:30 you started to get ready slowly, taking your time in the shower, shaving, the works. You had your music connected to a speaker getting yourself excited for the night.

Who wouldn’t be? You needed this. This was your time to get all dolled up and get to cum from someone other than yourself or the man who makes the vein in your forehead pop when you think about him.

You put on your sweet smelling lotion and head to your closet looking for an outfit. It was starting to get warm so you settled for a black t-shirt dress that fell to mid thigh with tan heeled booties. You pulled out a jean jacket to put on top in case it was windy.

After finishing your hair and makeup, it was nearing 7:30 and you were back on your couch fixing up the pillows and picking up any misplaced items in case the night led you back to your place. Suddenly you heard a knock on your door, the same hard 3 rasps which only meant one person.

Your heels clicked on the hard wood as you made your way to the door, unlocking it and opening it halfway, “What do you want Harold,” you said unamused.

“You look pretty,” he said pushing past you, ignoring the annoyance in your tone.

“Wish I could say the same about you. Now what do you want? I’m busy and I have to leave soon,” you said rolling your eyes.

He took a seat on your previously neat couch, spreading his legs and putting his arms up on the back. The way he looked you up and down sent chills up your spine, “What did you get a date that quick? The internet works wonders doesn’t it love”, he said rolling his neck.

“How did you know abo- actually I don’t care. As a matter of fact I do have a date and I’m meeting him soon so if you don’t mind leaving,” you said picking up your jacket and purse, “Why don’t you call that one girl from your show? She probably misses you.”

He let out a short laugh before pushed on his knees to stand back up, “Ah I see what this is. You’re jealous and you think going on a little date with some nobody would hurt me.” The cockiness was just seeping out of him.

“Pull your head out of your a-,” you started before he cut you off.

“No no you’re gonna listen to me angel. We may not be together but you belong to me. No one else can ever touch you or fuck you as well as I can,” he said leaning in to whisper in your ear.

It was almost sad how easily he could have you crumbling. Just then your phone dinged. It was a message from the guy, Danny? You couldn’t remember at this point.

“Answer it sweatpea, tell him you can’t make it.”

You were really debating it. On one side this could be your chance to finally tell Harry to fuck off but on the other you knew it would be hard to replace him and you weren’t even sure you completely wanted to. That was a whole other layer of emotions to dig through.

You looked back up at Harry, one of his curls falling into his eyes which were filled with lust. The way his tongue peeked out to slip over his pink lips gave you the answer you needed.

“Fuck,” you whispered unlocking your phone. Quickly you typed out a half ass apology about your sister needing you to babysit, even though she lived out of state, he didn’t need to know.

After you hit send your phone was quickly plucked from your grasp and pushed into Harry’s pocket. You didn’t think much about it when his lips pressing onto yours was acting as a great distraction.

He pulled away lightly mumbling a “taste like strawberries”. If you weren’t so turned on you would’ve giggled.

You moaned into his mouth pulling him by his loose button up shirt into your bedroom. It was a routine you had almost perfected at this point with little stumbling or need to grab onto the walls as a guide to make sure neither of you hit any corners.

Your lips never left each others in the feverish mess of kisses. Each one making you grow needier and needier. Your fingers worked quickly in trying to get the buttons on his shirt undone. You felt his warm ones wrap around yours halting your movements.

“Not so fast, you think I’m gonna let you off easy for what you did today?”

You huffed out, “You did the same-”, again he cut you off.

“I get to do whatever I want because you know who I am,” he finished trailing his thumb over your bottom lip, slowly tugging it down. All you could do was nod.

“Say it then.”

“Harry Styles,” you whispered out.

You could see his pupils get bigger with each syllable. It was his favorite thing, the power, the dominance. He got off on his own name. But so did you, the thought alone made you clench your thighs as you were in the moment.

His hand came up and tapped on your cheek, a small implication of what you knew he could do, “You’re gonna have to be louder than that lovie. Don’t worry though I’ll let you try again later.”

He backed you up until your legs hit the bed, pushing you down. You slowly crawled back, pulling your jacket and dress off as he worked on his belt and pants. You made quick work of kicking off your boots and settled into the plush sheets.

“Hurry up Styles. I think Danny could’ve made me cum at least twice now,” you said sliding a hand down to your panties. That move would bite you in the ass but the risk was worth it.

You let out gasps at the touch of your fingertips, moving your hips, doing anything to put on a show and hopefully have him give you what you wanted quicker.

He eagerly got on the bed, trapping you under his knees. His hands quickly ripped yours away from where you needed them most, pinning them over your head. He leaned down, face inches from yours until you shared the same breathe.

“You just want to be punished don’t you? Don’t worry I’ll help you get it through that stupid little slutty brain of yours,” he finished with a sadistic smile.

You nodded frantically moaning out pleases. His hand came down on your cheek, the chill of his rings pressed against the now warm skin on your face. His nails raked down until his hand was snuggly hugging your neck.

You tilted your head back giving him more room to squeeze and mark as he pleased, “Please Harry, want you to fuck me already.”

He tutted his lips giving your neck one last squeeze before he pulled away. “I think we should work on your patience,” he said moving down to your spread legs.

His warm hands pulled on the lace fabric on your hips, scoffing at the visible wet patch, “Don’t tell me this was all for old Danny-boy.”

“No Harry its all for you,” you mewled as he let his fingers swipe through your folds. It was evil how he was leisurely propped up between your legs teasingly circling your aching bud, switching between blowing on it and nipping at it.

You already felt the tears springing in the corners of your eyes. So little was doing so much. Just a little more and you could cum right then and there. And he knew it too.

“Oh you better not cum. I’m not gonna be very forgiving if you do,” he trailed off almost laughing. He never let up, quick circles on your bud making your body tense up.

“Ple- no.. oh god Harry,” you whined out. You felt your juices gushing out of you as you reached your peak. He never let up on his motions, going even faster on your overstimulated clit.

“God you’re so pathetic. Such a whore you just had to cum,” he punctuated with a slap right on your pussy.

At this point you were sobbing. Your head was swimming in the pleasure. You tried to apologize but the words weren’t coming together, just broken whimpers and mixes of sorry’s.

His hand came down on your sensitive cunt two more times, each one had you trying to close your legs but he was quick to keep them open with a bruising grip.

“Please.. Harry.”

“Please what?” he said taking in your shivering frame.

“Please fuck me! Want you to cum inside me, mark me so everyone knows i’m yours!” you spoke out breathlessly.

Quickly he flipped your over, pulling your hips up so that your pussy was on display for him. He groaned as he swiped the tip of his weeping pink cock over your already puffy folds.

With a long stroke he filled you completely. Your nerves were on fire and he hadn’t even started. His rough hands grabbed onto your hips for leverage on his thrusts.

“Fuck you’re so tight. Such a good little whore just for me to ruin,” he gritted out. He kept a steady pace, quick and deep making sure to hit your sweet spot each time.

Your nails were digging into the pillows for dear life. Eyes shut closed as your mouth fell in silent screams and jumbled phrases of pleasure. The only thing on your mind was HarryHarryHarry.

“Wanna cum again.. oh my god.. Plesse Harry fill me up! I need to feel it,” you said arching your back further. You felt each vein slide along your spongy walls making sure to clench around him and milk him for all he was worth.

His grip on your never let up. He let his hand come down on your ass cheek. Once again the rings contrasting the heat radiating off of you, “That’s it cum for me baby. I want you to scream my name when you do. Can you do that love? Shit , tell me who fucks you this good? Who’s cum do you want spilling inside you?”

You all but screamed a “Harry Styles” letting your neighbors know just who was with you that night, nights before, and nights to come.

The sweet noises and screams of his name had Harry’s cock pulsing inside you, ready to burst at any moment.

One look down at where you connected and he was sent right to heaven. Your cute little pussy creaming right on his cock had him shooting his load deep inside you.

You both gasped and groaned at the feeling of him filling you to the brim. He stilled his motions and you all but collapsed onto your bed.

You felt him lean down once again, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear before whispering, “You think Danny could’ve done that?”

#harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #chellewrites

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sugarmaplewings-fics · 4 years

Text

Bath Bomb

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Warnings: Bakugou

�� ──────── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──────── ⋙

"Come on, girls! Let's go here next!"

You giggled with your friends as you hurried to keep close with one another in the crowded street. Today was one of your bi-annual girls' day out with all your gal pals from the former class A.

It so happened that this outing was planned and organized by Yaomomo, and she had decided to take you all on a shopping trip to Harajuku. Everyone was already laden with bags, some even assisted by Ochaco in lightening the heavier ones.

The store Momo had pointed to was a quaint LUSH store, where pink neon lights glowed in the windows.

All seven of you eagerly crowded into the store, breaking off into smaller groups to wander around. You ended up with Toru and Mina, wandering over to one of the walls packed nearly floor to ceiling with colorful bath bombs.

"Look at them all," Toru breathed, carefully bringing one up to her invisible nose for a sniff.

You walked around with them, occasionally pointing out a particularly cutely shaped or colorful one.

Suddenly, you felt a hand alight on your arm. "(Y/N)!" Mina said, barely stifling a giggle. "Look at that one!"

Your eyes followed the direction her finger pointed, finally landing on an egg-shaped turquoise bath bomb. Except, it wasn't meant to be an egg. This was unmistakably a grenade.

"Oh, I get it," you said. "Bath bomb, and it's a grenade. That is pretty funny."

"Well, yeah, but what I meant was—" Mina paused to grin and wiggle her eyebrows at you. "I think you might be able to enjoy that with a certain explosive someone, perhaps?"

Heat flooded into your cheeks as you realized she was talking about your fiancé, Bakugou Katsuki. Now that she mentioned it, it did remind you of him. The mold it had come from was similar to the very real explosives he kept on his hero belt.

"You should totally get it!" she went on, practically bouncing on her toes.

You picked one up, feeling its shape and weight. It was easily the size of your palm, and you finally let your hand take it up to your nose for a quick sniff. Lavender and rosemary greeted your senses. It was a very pleasant mix and you held it up so Mina could get a whiff of her own.

"Mmm," she said, briefly fluttering her eyelids closed. "Yep. You're getting that."

She pulled you with her so you could grab a tray together, gently placing it in the little holder. Everyone browsed for another twenty minutes or so before finally checking out. You had decided on an additional bath bomb for yourself along with something called a bubble bar, but you were truly the most excited about the distinct blue-green grenade that innocently rested at the bottom of your bag. As your group left the store, you couldn't wait for a chance to try out what you'd bought. It would be a nice way to surprise Katsuki when he got home. Additionally, it provided an excuse to relax together and spend time in each other's presence.

You had to snap yourself out of a quick daydream you'd begun to sink into in order to answer Jirou, silently grinning to yourself in anticipation for what was to come.

. . . . . . . .

Not three days later, you finally found your chance.

You got home earlier than he did, which was normal. As you began your routine of amusing yourself while you waited for Katsuki to come home, you felt a buzz emanating from your pocket. It turned out to be a call from none other than your fiancé himself, Bakugou.

"Hey, babe, what's up?" you said into the phone, uncertain as to why he was calling.

"Just wanted to let you know I'm coming home early," his gruff voice came through. "Do you want anything for dinner? I know it's been awhile since we've had that takeout you like."

Your eyes lit up. "You'd do that?"

Katsuki grumbled on his end of the phone, however you could hear that there was no malice behind it. "Yes. I don't understand why you like it so much, especially because of how bad for you it is and when my cooking is so much better, but I'll get it. For you."

"Thank you so much!"

"Whatever."

Thus went most of your conversations with the blond. You were used to it by now, so you merely smiled. "I love you."

Katsuki's voice abruptly changed to tender. "I love you too."

Your smile only brightened as the end-call tone sounded in your ear. You loved everything about Katsuki, even his overly boorish nature. It only made the moments he let it slip all the sweeter. You knew you were the only one who got to witness that softer side to him, and it made your heart swell every time.

You flopped back into position on your couch, mind beginning to wander through possibilities of what you could do during your evening with Bakugou. You quickly remembered the little bath bomb you had shoved into the back of the bathroom cabinet. That would be perfect! You decided to wait until after dinner and then surprise him with the little plan that was already beginning to take form within your mind.

The lock on your door clicked a few minutes later, alerting you that Bakugou had come home. You rose to greet him, strolling into the kitchen to see him setting a bag down on the counter.

You walked up to his side and pecked him on the cheek. "Welcome home, babe."

Katsuki's vermilion eyes met yours as you leaned into him, draping an arm around his waist. "Hey."

"How was work?"

"Not bad," he answered, reaching up into a cabinet and pulling out two glasses, handing one to you.

You grabbed the bag and went to your little table, going back into the kitchen to fill your cup with ice and water once Katsuki was done. The two of you settled at the table, taking out the boxes of food he'd bought for you.

"So why did they let you off early?" you inquired, plunging your chopsticks into a personal container of noodles.

"Dumbass advisor told me to go home," he answered. "Villain hit me with their quirk or something and I got a little dinged up."

"Are you alright?" you asked, suddenly concerned.

"Of course. They just told me to stay in and rest. Pathetic, thinking I'm weak or some shit."

"'Tsuki, you know he just cares about you."

Bakugou made his classic tch noise, scowling back down into his mixed vegetables. "The only reason I agreed to leave was so that I could spend more time with you."

You looked back to him, hoping to catch those ruby eyes of his. He refused to offer them, however, and you eventually gave up, going back to your food.

"I know you don't see me as often as you'd like to," he continued, his voice little more than a mutter. "It's been a while since we've been able to spend a day together, let alone plan our—our wedding."

It was true. Even today, for Katsuki, he'd gotten home early, but you weren't blind to the fact that it was already half past seven. Some nights you'd be up until nearly two AM, waiting for his footsteps to come in through your door. You never ceased to stay awake for him, however, filling some of your free time with planning for your wedding ceremony. Bakugou was letting you handle most of it, although it wasn't as though he had much choice. That didn't stop you from trying to include him any way you could; occasionally talking over what you'd thought of and decided on that day while the two of you lay in bed together. Sometimes lying alone with one another in cool darkness were the only moments you could share, quietly conversing until one of you fell victim to the sleep that had been pressing at the backs of both of your eyes for the last few hours.

You had to hope that one day it would get better. Someday, he may be able to catch more breaks. Maybe someday, society would be fixed so that crime would dwindle to nearly nothing. But that someday was far, far away, if it even would ever come at all. All you could do was be thankful that Katsuki loved his job and rarely got injured. It brought in good money too, with his position so high at the top. The only thing that mattered was that he somehow walked in through that door at the end of each day, no matter what time it was or how long the two of you had gone without sleep. No matter what, you'd always be there, waiting for him.

Your hand snaked its way across the table to settle on top of Katsuki's, finally getting him to look up at you. "It's okay," you assured him. "You're here now. I couldn't be happier."

You both sat, looking at each other in a silent moment, his palm having turned to take yours, thumb gently stroking the outside of your hand.

Flicking your eyes down, you let a small smile creep onto your lips. "I actually have a little surprise for you," you said. "It's for after dinner."

Bakugou breathed out a little laugh in a singular huff, going back to consuming your "shitty takeout" food. "Do you, now?"

"Uh huh."

You could tell he was curious. Bakugou wasn't really one who was much for surprises, but he trusted you.

It wasn't too much longer before you finished your meal, taking the cardboard containers and stuffing them back into the bag they had come from. Bakugou put the glasses on the counter next to the sink while you tied up the trash bag and tossed it out, double checking that the table was clear and clean.

"Ready?" you asked, running your hand down his forearm until it met his own, intertwining your fingers.

"Sure."

"Let's get started, then."

You led him to the bathroom, letting go of his hand so you could turn on the tap for your bathtub. It was just the right size for the two of you to comfortably sit together in, and this was hardly your first time doing so.

"You wanted me to take a bath?" Katsuki asked, watching you adjust the temperature.

"Well, yes, but—" you turned and strode over to the cabinet, rummaging around for the object of interest. You pulled out the bag, reaching in to show off the little grenade. "Ta-da!"

Bakugou looked at it, slightly unimpressed. "What is it?"

"It's a bath bomb," you explained. "I saw it the other day when I was out shopping with the girls and it reminded me of you." You watched his expression, but it hadn't really changed. "So are you interested?"

Katsuki finally let the smallest of smiles grace his lips. "Sure. I was planning on showering here anyway. A bath will do."

"Am I invited?" you asked, just to make sure.

"Of course you are, dumbass," he said, looking nearly offended that you might have thought otherwise.

"Well, then. Let's get to it."

The two of you started stripping off your clothes, discarding them on the floor. When you glanced up at Bakugou, you noticed a little red mark on his shoulder, disappearing over the peak and presumably continuing on his back. You stepped closer, walking around behind him, ignoring a half-hearted protest from the man who was sporting it. A large, red blotchy welt bloomed on the skin of his back, and when you touched it as gently as possible with your fingertips, you found that it was nearly burning.

"Katsuki, baby," you crooned concernedly, unable to take your eyes off it.

"That was the best the healing guy could do," he explained, his voice quieter than usual. "It was worse before, but that's why I got sent home."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not really."

You clicked your tongue, still figuring it probably did hurt more than he would ever let on. You gently kissed a patch of unmarked skin next to it, just to be safe.

Knowing how much Bakugou hated it when you fussed over any injuries he got, you finally left to grab the bath bomb. You traded it for your engagement ring, sliding off the gold band and picking up the green grenade from where you had set it on the counter. The faucet handle of the tub was cool in your hand as you turned the water off, having moved back over to its edge. You shifted your appendage to flick your fingers in the water to check the temperature. It was just right; not too hot, not too cold.

"Come here," you beckoned Katsuki to your side. "Watch this."

You dropped the bath grenade into the water, both of you watching as it began to fizz at the bottom. The water began to take on a cartoonish lagoon-blue tint, and the smell of rosemary and lavender began to sweetly float into the air.

"Now come on," you said, stepping into the tub. Katsuki followed in after you, and you let him sit down and adjust before sliding into his lap. You leaned against his shoulder as his arms wrapped around you. You scanned his face, searching for any signs of discomfort. You found that sometimes it was the best way to tell what he was feeling, rather than asking.

Nevertheless, his eyes were gently shut, jaw relaxed. An eyelid slid open to peer at you, a tiny sliver of red just scarcely able to be seen.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" he asked, tone conversational.

"You."

"Feh."

"'Feh'," you mocked. "The great Bakugou Katsuki, 20—"

"Stop," he interrupted, sending a splash of scented unnaturally blue water over your shoulder. You giggled, nuzzling closer into his chest in your giddiness. A deep inhale and exhale went through your man's lungs, and you followed the idea soon after. The lavender really did do something to your brain, almost magically quieting your thoughts as you felt calm steal over your body.

You'd missed this, just being able to spend time with the love of your life, relaxing together. The water you both were encased in was so soothingly warm, reaching you where Katsuki's hold could not.

"So how did your day go?" you asked, keeping your eyes shut as you snuggled into him. "Tell me all about the villains you vanquished."

You could practically hear Katsuki grin above you, and without hesitation he launched into an anecdote about a man he'd apprehended early that morning. You knew how much he loved talking about his great feats of heroism. It seemed to be a bit of an ego booster for him, watching your face as you reacted to his account of his day.

You felt him shift slightly, not ceasing in his talk. The sound of a shampoo bottle popping open met your ears, and soon after, Bakugou's fingers were lacing through your damp hair, spreading the cleansing scent throughout your scalp.

You hummed and leaned into his touch, enjoying the added sensation while he finished up his speech.

"—shoulda seen the look on the little shit's face when he realized there was nothing he could do. I had him, just like that. Damn extra, didn't even have that much paperwork to file on him."

"Mmm," you hummed in acknowledgement. "Oh, baby, that feels so good."

Bakugou continued rubbing circles into your scalp, lather and foam coating his hands. You loved his hands. They were so large and strong; the source of his power, the source of his pride.

Finally he swirled your hair up and out of the way into a makeshift twist-bun, held together sheerly by the sticky shampoo lather. He took a bar of your favorite soap and began to run it over the skin of your back and shoulders, applying a delicious amount of pressure to muscles you hadn't even known were tensed. Satisfied with the slippery coating, Katsuki went back to using those hands of his, rolling the heels perfectly into you, alternating between palms and knuckles.

"'Tsuki," you said, voice hazy from how good it felt, "this was supposed to be for you."

"Yes, and?"

You pouted, eyes still lidded. "You're supposed to be relaxing."

"This is how I relax."

"Yeah, but—"

"Did I fucking stutter?"

You snorted, letting him continue his business in massaging your back. "Okay, but you're next."

"You wish."

"Did I fucking stutter?" you countered, using his own words against him. "You can't escape me. You're going to feel good by the time we get out of here, and that's a rock fact."

Even Katsuki had to have known his grumbles sounded fake. It was rare for him to show it, but you knew that every now and then he reveled in having you take care of him. Whether it be working out knots in his muscles or rubbing cream into his burns, there was a secret side to him that would allow you to tend to him. His brash persona had to be let down sometime, and every day you felt honored that you were among the few people who he trusted enough to see him without it.

Katsuki finally began to pour water over your back, the warmth trickling down and bringing the soap right with it. He leaned you back so your hair was submerged and your head was in his lap. His fingers began to wind through your tresses again, shaking the shampoo bubbles into the water around you. Without fail, Bakugou always insisted that you were completely taken care of before he ever allowed anything to be done to himself. There was nothing you could do to protest, that's just the way it was. Firm but gentle fingertip pads were pressed into your shoulders, signaling for you to sit up.

He began the process over again with your conditioner, squirting some on his hand before running it through the strands of hair that fell from your head.

"Have the energy to talk about our wedding?" you asked, eyes flicking up to the counter where your sparkling ring sat waiting.

"Sure."

You ran over a few thoughts you'd gotten to recently. You already had a pretty solid guest list, a venue in mind, arrangements for flowers, the cake, dresses, and even the suit Bakugou had picked out. Now was the more practical stuff; scheduling and seating, sketching out designs for the invitations.

You relayed over the conversation you'd had with Momo earlier yesterday. You were so thankful to have her as a friend, helping you plan. It was almost as if she knew what she was doing, at least, more than you did. She was good with decision making and had your best interests at heart.

Bakugou listened while he continued to thread his fingers through your hair, occasionally commenting or making little noises of acknowledgment while you spoke. It wasn't long before he tapped your shoulder, ready to dip you again.

The water that flooded your ears distorted your voice as you continued talking. You wished you had your laptop in front of you so you could show him your detailed spreadsheet.

You finally sat up, him having finished rinsing once again. You paused in your conversation to say, "Now it's your turn."

He turned, trying to find a moderately comfortable means to lean back so you could reach the top of his head. You cupped water in your hands and used it to wet his ash blond hair. Satisfied at its newly damp state, you pulled down his shampoo. Which also happened to be his conditioner.

You'd always grumbled at him for being tacky and using it, but his argument was that he didn't need anything more. It was cheap and quick and he refused to budge from his stance on it. At least you'd gotten him to start picking up scents you liked. This one was coconut. You glanced at the upside down bottle in your hand as you squeezed some out, silently cringing at the 3-in-1 proudly printed on the sticker. What bothered you was probably the sheer difference in male vs female advertised products. You wouldn't be surprised if they came out with something that he could brush his teeth with too.

You spread it over his spikes, each point becoming droopy under the weight of the water that had soaked into them. You couldn't help but notice how Bakugou leaned into your touch. Your voice began to trail off as you focused on his hair. It didn't take long to spread the shampoo through his short blond hair, working it into his roots. Next you moved down to his neck, trying to keep your fingers away from any reddened areas. Your hands skillfully moved over his back, much like his had done to yours a few moments prior. His skin was soon covered in a fine layer of suds, deliciously scented as you finally began to rinse both it and his hair with the now scarcely lukewarm water.

"You feel any better, Katsuki?" you asked, leaning forward to rest your chin on his shoulder.

"From what?" he shot back, annoyed that you'd suggest he was ever anything less than 'fine'.

"I don't know," you said, keeping your tone soft. "You still haven't told me how you got this today." You gingerly tapped a patch of skin on his back, still flushed but now glistening with moisture.

He abruptly stood, water running in rivulets down his legs as he stepped out of your bath. Bakugou wordlessly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, exiting the bathroom with nothing more than it and heavy footsteps.

You sighed and chewed on your lip, collecting yourself before pulling the plug from the drain. Your fingers slid through the receding water, eventually locating the fizzing remains of your grenade and setting it on the ledge. You lifted yourself out and grabbed a towel, sliding your ring back onto your finger before finally leaving the warm, steamy bathroom to find Katsuki.

It wasn't difficult to locate the blond, finding him in the first place you checked; your bedroom. He laid on his back, palms supporting his head while his elbows stretched out on either side. He wore only a pair of loose-fitting orange and black gym shorts, slung low on his hips as he gazed up at the ceiling.

You decided it would be best to not force him to talk, opting to begin work on patting your hair dry with your towel before slipping on one of Katsuki's large, old t-shirts and some cotton panties. The bed dipped under your weight as you sat at the edge, silently beginning to finger comb your damp hair. You listened to nothing but your own heartbeat steadily thumping in your chest, concern for your fiancé clouding your thoughts.

Before you could turn around to ask him what was wrong, Bakugou finally spoke. "Why did you agree to marry me?"

The question caught you so completely off guard, a scoff escaped your throat. "Because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Why are you asking me that?"

Katsuki's frown deepened. "It's just that . . . sometimes I wonder if you don't deserve this. I never see you. When I do, I'm not the . . . nicest person. You could—you would probably be better off with someone different."

You rubbed your hand soothingly over his toned belly. "Was today not a good day?"

Bakugou chewed on the inside of his cheek. You recognized the blank look in his eyes, signaling that he was trying to distance himself from his emotions. "He got away."

"Who?" you asked quietly, shifting so you could comfortably run your hands over him. The action was meant to try to calm him and ease him from behind his figurative walls.

"The villain who—who hurt me. I didn't catch him and it's all my fault. I lost. I'm a failure."

You frowned at his words. This must have really affected him if he was willing to break down so much in front of you. Bakugou had always had the mindset that he always had to win. That was how he decided he would be the greatest hero. A blow like this had to hurt.

You laid down and pulled yourself against his side, ducking under his arm so he had no choice but to hold you to his warm chest. You placed a kiss over one of his pecs, your gentle fingers never ceasing in their soothing up and down motions over his abs.

"You're far from a failure, Katsuki," you said softly in his ear. "Things like this happen."

"Not to me," he grumbled, turning his head away from you.

"You'll catch him next time, I'm sure of it."

Bakugou huffed beside you. "I should be out there, hunting him down," he finally said.

"Not in this condition," you stated firmly, tapping a finger against his skin.

You could see Bakugou's lip curl over his teeth. "It's not like I can't fight. I barely even hurt anymore. I can—"

"I wasn't talking about your wound."

He turned his head, finally looking at you. Confusion and suspicion swam in his vermilion eyes, but you used the opportunity to place your hand on his cheek.

"You're down on yourself," you said. "You need some time off. You're working so much and so hard, which is a good thing, but I think you need some time away."

Bakugou rested his hand over yours, gazing into your eyes. "I can't just let him go," he stated simply. "I can't afford to take time off."

"I know," you sighed. "But just for tonight? For me? You deserve it."

Your fiancé sighed. There wasn't anything he wanted more then than to hold you in his arms and forget for a few moments. Forget about his demanding job and getting a whole new hero agency kicked off the ground. Forget about his sworn responsibilities to the world. Forget about that damned bastard who got away.

A grumble sounded deep within Bakugou's chest, signaling to you that he had caved. You let him tug you forward and pull you into a kiss, attacking your lips in that perfectly rough but sweet way that you craved and loved.

Once he was temporarily satisfied, he cradled you against his bare chest for several minutes, refusing to move until all the stress had slowly trickled out of his muscles. You nuzzled into his bare skin, which still smelled so deliciously fresh after having gotten out of your bath.

"I love you," Bakugou finally said. "You know that, right?"

"Of course." Your voice came out a bit muffled, but you had little interest in adjusting from your position.

"I do want to get married," he went on. "To you. Maybe start a family . . . . It wouldn't be so bad, having a little fuckin' monster running around."

Your heart leapt at the idea of having a baby with the pro hero. It was something you'd thought about quite a bit, actually. "And is this child's 'fuckin' monster' qualities from you or from me?"

"You, obviously."

You laughed at Katsuki's joke, glad that he was beginning to feel better. When you looked back into his face, you were pleased to find that even he was smiling just a little bit.

You kissed his skin again as a way to segway to another topic. "So what do you want to do for the rest of your evening off?"

"Maybe we could watch something." He shrugged. "I don't care as long as I'm holding you."

His wish was an easy one to have come true. Within minutes you were relocated to the couch, snuggled up under a blanket together with a bowl of popcorn, watching something you both had been able to agree upon.

Your relationship with Katsuki wasn't an easy one, but there was no one else in the whole world you'd rather spend a lifetime with.

⋘ ──────── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──────── ⋙

Taglist: @basicaegyo @iiminibattlehero @pyrofanatic @xoxopam4

#bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou bnha #katsuki bakugou bnha #bakugou katsuki bnha #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #sugar fics

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crashdevlin · 3 years

Text

Leftoverture 3- Carry On

Author’s Note: Don’t get me wrong, I loved the finale, but I was thinking about how much I miss Dean and I couldn’t stop thinking about ways I could have him back so…I’m going canon divergent while being as close to canon as possible. ‘Cause that’s how Cassie do. This is where Leftoverture officially crosses over with Crash Into Me!

Summary: Sam tries to convince Dean to talk to his widow, but it takes a visit from an old friend to get him to do the right thing.

Pairing: Dean x OFC

Word count: 3755

Story Warnings: angst, Post-barn scene sads, mentions of major character deaths (Dean and AU!Sam), mentions of depression, memory fuckery,

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

“Hey, get off the phone. Who are you texting?” Dean asked, looking over at Sam’s thumbs tapping out a message.

“I’m...just letting some people know that you’re back, okay? What?” Sam defended, pulling his phone out of Dean’s reach as his brother tried to grab it.

“She better not be part of that group text, Sam. I will kick your lanky ass.”

“Dean, come on.”

“She has mourned me! She’s probably just starting to get okay and you want me to break that? Not to mention the kid. How are we supposed to explain to her that I’m just suddenly not dead anymore?” Dean pulled over onto the shoulder and glared at Sam until he rolled his eyes and sighed, hitting the X to take his sister-in-law’s number away from the list that included Bobby 2.0, Jody, Donna, Charlie 2.0, and Garth. “Thank you.”

“It’s only been a month. You think she’s starting to get over you already?” Sam finished tapping out his text as Dean pulled back onto the interstate.

“I think I’m a threat to her life as long as I’m in her life, man. I mean, that’s why it took us so long to get together in the first place, because I knew that me being a hunter was gonna put her in the ground and it was just lucky for all of us that it put me in the ground before her.”

“Don’t say th-”

“It’s better for her to think I’m still dead!” Dean exploded. “If she knows I’m alive, she’ll come back to the bunker and she’s gonna end up dead and that’ll be on me! Okay, it’s better if she thinks I’m dead and we keep it that way!”

“So, I guess you’ve made up your mind on this one?” Sam asked.

“Yes!” Dean nodded, somehow still keeping his eyes on the road. “You know what, yes, I’ve made up my mind. Because she deserves to live a life that I’m not ruining. She never wanted the job to encroach on her life, or Rebel’s, okay? Fuck, if I ended up getting that little girl hurt, I could nev--and you know she only agreed to marry me in the first place because Chuck was gonna kill us all anyway and he’s not a problem anymore and what happened to my ring when I bit it? You didn’t burn it with me, did you, because that was a really good silver ring and if you melted it with me, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Sam shook his head in disappointment. “Your wife was wearing it on her thumb last time I saw it.”

Dean sighed and licked his lips. “It’s better this way, Sam. I know you don’t see it, but it’s better.”

“Right. You, uh, you remember when you guys were ‘just friends’ and she started dating that asshole that didn’t know what ‘no’ meant?” Dean’s jaw clenched tight at the memory. “You remember how pissed off you got that she was dating someone, let alone a Dom dickbag like him, and how you spent the entire weekend trying to get dirt on him to use to get her to dump him?”

"He was tryin' to put things in her while she was drunk! He deserved a bullet through the skull for that shit and he's lucky she wouldn't let me go talk to him."

"Yeah, I know. He was a piece of shit, but you didn't know that when we got there. You just didn’t like him because he was dating her."

"I'm a good judge of character and she is not. She dates douchebags. She always has. I mean, look at her cheating son-of-a-bitch ex-husband. If she's dating them, they're douchebags."

Sam rolled his eyes, obviously catching Dean’s self-deprecating undertone in that sentence. "Okay, but you're just gonna let her date someone else? You're gonna let her find some other douchebag to date that you won't be able to save her from?"

"I didn't save her from Mike or Drew. She was already half out the door on both of them before I interceded with either. And I know what you're doing and it's not gonna work." Dean pointed his finger in Sam’s face. "You're not gonna get me all jealous so I go find her because I'm afraid of her getting over me and moving on. I want her to move on. I want her to have a good life. That's the whole point here, man."

"Dean, she's not going to move on. She's gonna be devastated the rest of her life because you aren't-"

"So, we should make it worse by putting her through it twice?!" Dean snapped. "We should make her have to watch me burn another time, right? We should make her clear her shit out of the Bunker in a few years too? We should make her live with the hope that one day I'll manage to make it home again? We should put her heart back together just to shatter it into pieces again when I die permanently? Fuck you, Sam. I can't do it to her. I just...no."

Sam took a deep breath and shook his head sadly. "Fine."

"It's better this way. It's just better."

"Sure. It’s better.”

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

There was something cleansing about a simple werewolf hunt. Sam was being a little overbearing, but Dean understood why. Sam didn’t want to see him die anymore than he wanted to die again. There were only two wolves and they went down easy. It was a textbook hunt...just like the vampire cult should have been.

Sam shook away memories of the night in the barn and followed an energized Dean out to the Impala. It wouldn’t happen again. Not anytime soon. Dean was around to stay. Sam would make sure of it.

“So, hit the motel, pizza and beer, head back to the bunker in the morning. Did you report my death to the fire department because I’m still wanting that job and I’ll have to think of one hell of an excuse if you told them I died.” Dean shrugged, continuing before Sam could respond. “I’m gonna need to come up with an excuse either way, but an excuse for a month of radio silence is easier than an excuse for comin’ out of the Lazarus Pit, ya know?”

“I...didn’t say anything to them, Dean. It was really low on my list of priorities to tell the Lebanon Volunteer Fire Department that Dean Campbell was dead.”

“Awesome. I’ll figure out what to tell them. For now...pizza.”

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

“No, I know, it was a crazy situation, but I honestly think getting lost in the Yukon without a cell phone was probably the best thing that could have happened to me." Dean laughed into the phone as he walked into the library. "Yeah, exactly. Never gonna take a warm, dry bed for granted again. Well, thank you so much for understanding, Captain. I'm excited to get training. That's gonna be...yeah, I'm gonna be there. Thanks again."

Dean smiled as he tucked his phone into his pocket. "He bought it. Thanks for putting those fake Canadian news pieces up. Appreciate it."

"Okay, but what if someone else searches your fake name, Dean?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "You think she's Googling me?" He stepped forward and looked down at Sam sitting at the library table. "She Googles me and she'll find a story about a man named Dean Campbell getting lost in the Yukon and surviving on moose and wolverine and melted snow. No pic, no identifying words. She'll look at it, say 'It is a miracle this guy survived' and then she'll move on to the next search result, okay? I don't understand why you're all up in my business about this but-"

"You don't miss them?" Sam asked, pushing his hair out of his face and leaning forward.

Dean bit his lip and shook his head. "No, I do not."

Sam stood and looked down into his brother's eyes. "Well, I do."

"Well, they're staying gone." Dean patted his brother's shoulder and walked toward the hall. "Good talk."

He sat on the edge of his bed and ran his hand down his face. Of course he missed her. Of course he missed the little girl he treated as his own daughter...or...the other Dean treated like a daughter. It was just too difficult. Explaining to his wife was one thing, an easy thing. She’d come back in a heartbeat and it would all be fine between them. She wouldn’t care that he wasn’t exactly the same in body, that he had different scars and a slightly different pattern of freckles or that his hair wasn’t quite right even after trying to make it work for four damn days.

She fell for him because of how he treated her, how safe she felt with him, how he made her feel. All of that was in the memories. How he felt about her was in the memories, too. He loved her in a way he'd never been able to let himself love anyone else. She was so much different than any other woman he'd considered making a life with because she was like all the best parts of them all mixed together. She was smart like Cassie Robinson, badass like Jo Harvelle, understanding of the Life without being part of it...with a kid, just like Lisa. He remembered that...and he knew that he'd never find another woman like her.

That was okay. He didn't really want another one: another woman, partner, wife. He couldn’t see himself opening up like that to someone other than his short little badass. And Sam was right that he didn't really want her with someone else, either...but she deserved it. She deserved to get over him and move on to greener pastures. So he had to stay away. For her good, he had to stay dead.

For the good of the little girl, too. If he just came back from the dead, it would completely fuck that little girl's understanding of life and death. It would fuck her up for life.

Dean sighed, picking up his phone and kissing his lock screen; the picture they took on the beach for their honeymoon. He held the phone over his heart for a minute and lied back, staring at the ceiling until sleep took him.

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

Dean smiled as he sat in a folding chair on the side of a soccer field, watching a short blonde girl dribble a ball between her feet on the green grass. "She's gettin' good," he commented to himself.

"She missed tryouts this year," a familiar voice said. Dean gasped a little as he turned in his seat to look at the angel in the beige trenchcoat. "They moved back to Florida too late for her to be placed on a team."

"Cas? Are you--is this--this is a dream."

"Yes. But...my presence is not." Castiel smiled as Dean stood and wrapped him in a hug. "Jack saved me from the Cosmic Entity from the Empty. We've been improving Heaven."

Dean pulled back and sniffled as he slapped a hand on Cas' shoulder. "Man, where have you been, then? We've missed you."

"Angels stay in Heaven now. Jack and I thought it was best to keep our interference to a minimum." Cas chuckled. "I'm not technically supposed to be here now."

Dean licked his lips. "Well, then...what's with the, uh, Freddy Krueger you're pulling?"

"Dean requested it. He knows what's been happening on Earth, that you've taken on his memories and essentially become him, and he knows that you are avoiding Cassie."

Dean scoffed and stepped back from the angel. "I'm sure he's got an opinion on all this."

"He does. He has a strong opinion on what you're doing and what you should be doing." Castiel stepped closer. "He told me to tell you to get your head out of your ass. He said that, if you have his memories, you're in love with her too and you need to go to her. He knows you couldn’t live with losing her forever...so don't lose her."

"Cas, she's better off without me."

"Is she?" the angel challenged. "Because she’s Dean Winchester’s widow. Doesn't that put a target on her back?"

Dean pressed his lips together in a thin line and looked away. She could handle it...right? "She's got protections...and we taught her to fight. She's gonna be fine."

"Dean told me to tell you that if you don't get in his car and drive to Florida, he's going to 'rip your pansy lungs out'," Cas said, doing air quotes. Dean scoffed. "He was very adamant that you go to her."

"Fine. But it's gonna hurt her. I'm gonna hurt her." Dean was absolutely serious but Cas just smiled and shook his head a little. "Hey, uh, Cas? Before you go...I'm...I'm not gonna get to see you again, right? So, don't you think we should talk about-"

"I think that would be a bit redundant." Castiel’s smile brightened, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. "Dean and I have spoken at length about my sacrifice and the words spoken before Billie and I were taken to the Empty."

"And?"

"And Dean Winchester’s Heaven is full of people who love and cherish him...who see him for the hero he is. He never believes he's going to hurt any of them. You should learn from his example."

"DEAN! Look!" Dean looked behind him to see the girl kick the soccer ball at the goal. He couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face.

"Great job, Youngblood!" he shouted before turning back around. The angel was gone.

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

Dean smiled tightly at Sam as he walked into the kitchen the next morning. “So, uh...I’m gonna take a few days...drive down to Florida.”

Sam’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah...Castiel came to me in a dream last night. Said the original me is up there in Heaven and he’s very unhappy with my choice.”

“Really?” Sam was obviously amused.

“Yeah. I don’t know if it was really him or not. Maybe it was just my brain kickin’ me in the ass but...I’m gonna go get ‘em back.”

“Thank you. I was hoping you’d come to your senses.”

“Yeah, yeah, anyway...I’ll be back in a couple days. I’ve got training on Monday so...it’ll be a short trip. Maybe she’ll come back, maybe she won’t but…” He shrugged. “Don’t know ‘til I go talk to her.”

“Good luck, man.”

Dean nodded before heading to the garage. He had plenty of time to get nervous as he drove toward his in-laws’ house in North Florida. A month wasn’t too long. She’d gone longer without him in the past, but...he was alive back then. She knew he’d be back eventually.

He parked the Impala down the street. He wanted to see her before he talked to her. He needed to see how she was working through his death...if she even needed him. Dead Dean told him to go, but if she was moving on, he’d just get back in the car.

She was on the porch when he arrived, coming around the neighbor’s house to hide in the shadows around the side of her parent’s house. “It’s still hard. I don’t think it’s ever not gonna be hard. I still keep wanting to hear that damn Impala coming down the road. But even if I did hear it...I know it’d be Sam.” Dean bit his bottom lip. She was still mourning him. “I don’t know, Manda, but Erik has been a godsend.” His eyebrows went up. Who the fuck is Erik? Did she move on already? “He’s the only reason I get out of bed most mornings. He’s been helping a lot with Aria, driving her to school in the morning and making breakfast. Oh, he makes the best pancakes.” She gave a small chuckle. “Not that I need pancakes. I’ve put on, like, fifteen pounds since he died. Yeah, that is a lot. Erik doesn’t think so either...and Dean wouldn’t care...but I care”

Dean watched her shrug before shaking her head. “I don’t know. He seems nice but...my parents didn’t even know Dean and I got married, so of course Erik doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand...but he’s helping anyway.” She sighed and hummed a little into the air, staring up at the moon. “It’s still just really hard.”

Dean watched as she finished her phone call to her best friend and kept looking up into the night sky. He had to force himself to step around the side of the house and toward her. “Who’s Erik?” he asked. It was the only thing he could think to ask. Green eyes behind thick, dark glasses went wide as she turned to look at him.

“Dean?” she squeaked.

“Mostly,” he whispered as she threw her phone to skim across the grass and launched herself at him. He closed his eyes as she wrapped her arms around him, overwhelmed by the feel of her warmth against him. “Come on, Crash, I taught you better than this. Where’s your silver and holy water, baby?”

“Inside,” she sobbed out into his chest. “But I know you’re you. I can feel it.”

He pressed his lips to her hair and took a step back, leaning down a bit to look directly into her eyes. “I am me, but I’m also...I’m also not. Can we...can we take a walk?”

“Of course!” she agreed, sniffling and wiping at her eyes under her glasses.

They started to walk out of the yard onto the street. “Okay, but before I get into my whole thing...who the fuck is Erik?”

“Oh, he’s a maintenance guy, works with my dad. When I moved to the Bunker, Erik rented my room.”

Dean nodded, his lips pursed. “So, he’s your parents’ tenant and you’re letting him take your daughter to school?”

“My parents trust him...I trust him.” She stuck her hands in her pockets and shrugged. “He’s a nice guy...and he’s a writer, too. He was shocked by the number of notebooks I have. He used to do all of his writing on his computer, but he’s started writing in notebooks since I showed him the versatility of handwriting a story. He said it was like going back to simpler times.”

“Okay. I guess...so, he’s just…”

“He’s just a guy that lives at the house.” She looked over at him as he jammed his hands in his jacket pockets. “So, how are you back? Sam burned you. You shouldn’t be back.”

“You remember when Chuck was destroying the other universes and the other versions of me and Sam showed up? They were fleeing their world.”

“I remember. Sam wouldn’t take his hair down.”

“Right, well...um…” He cleared his throat. “Couple weeks ago, Man-bun Sam died in South America. Werewolves...and Dean couldn’t take it and he did a full wipe of his memories so that he wouldn’t have to remember and Sam went to Rowena to get her to fix it. Her version of fixing it was to give him, give me, your husband’s memories.”

“So, you’re-” She stopped in the middle of the street and turned to look at him. “You’re not my Dean?”

“Of course I am. I’ve got all of his memories. I’ve got all of his love.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Slightly different body...and a different soul. Your Dean is in Heaven. But I’m just like him. I’m exactly like him, Crash.”

She swallowed and searched his face for a few moments before she looked away. “The day we met...why was I crying?”

She was quizzing him, testing his memories, seeing how much like her husband he really was. “Mike left you,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t the first time...or the last. Rebel was about...two years old and you were tryin’ to hold yourself together. We shared some beer and talked about the monster Sam and I put down...and you gave me your number.”

“You, uh, you had a tattoo that I designed...it burned so you don’t have it now, but what-”

“I’ll get the rune again,” he interrupted. “So you can astral to me again.”

“Oh, it is you,” she whispered.

“It is me.” He wrapped her in a hug again and she grabbed at his jacket to hold him to her. “I don’t know how to go about this, though. How are we gonna explain to the kid that-”

“I-I don’t know.” She pulled back and shook her head. “I don’t know if she even caught on to the fact that you were dead...all I said was ‘gone’. I just said you were gone.”

That might make it easier. “Is she back at the house?”

“No. She’s with her father. It’s just Erik and my parents at the house right now.”

“Do your parents know I died? I’m just trying to determine if we can go in or if I’m sleeping in the car tonight.” He smiled at her as she sighed and looked away.

“I told them you broke up with me.”

“So, can I come inside?”

“You’ll have to sleep on the couch...unless you wanna sleep on the floor in Aria’s room. I’ve been sleeping with her on her loft bed since Erik has my old room and bed and all that.”

He smiled and headed toward the house, her hand in his. “She still have that big pile of stuffed animals under the loft?” She nodded and he smirked. “Then I’ll sleep in her zoo.”

She led him into the house and started up the stairs. They were halfway up the stairs when the door to the room that used to be hers opened. “Cass?” a voice asked. Dean stopped in his tracks.

“Didn’t mean to wake you, Erik.”

“It’s okay. I was just worried when you didn’t come back in. Are you-” Shadows fell over Dean and Crash as a figure stepped to the top of the stairs. “Oh, shit.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed as he stepped around his wife and up a few stairs. “What the hell are you doin’ here?” he demanded.

“You’re dead,” the blue-eyed man squeaked.

“About as dead as you’re about to be, Chuck.”

~~~~

The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @wasabiwitteks @rainbowkisses31 @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661 @officiallyunofficialperson @dolphincliffs @mrs-meghan-winchester @gayspacenerd @foxyjwls007 @ilovefanfic86 @marvelfansworld @f-yeahfandoms @wonderlandfandomkingdom @hhiggs @sev3nruby @hobby27 @paintballkid711 @divadinag @thewhiterabbit42 @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural @letsby @supernatural-bellawinchester @onethirstyunicorn @swinchester27 @chalicia @screechingartisancashbailiff @death-unbecomes-you @dayasvalkyrie @paryl @wereallbrokenangels @the-american-witch @that-one-gay-girl @tatted-trina6 @sunshineandwings86 @lunarmoon8 @wheezyeds @vicmc624 @couldabeenamermaid @vulgar-library

#cassie writes stuff #leftoverture #spn fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #post barn scene #angst

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mulderist · 3 years

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Five Times Mulder Got Scully Coffee, And One Time He Didn’t

MSR || 2k words || @today-in-fic

A/N: I wrote this on the fly based on a post about types of intimacy including knowing your partner’s coffee order.

1 “we leave for the very plausible state of Oregon at 8 a.m.”

It was her first assignment with Spooky Mulder; a crisp Wednesday morning in September. From the backseat she checked her boarding pass once more while the taxi arrived at Dulles International. The red-orange sunrise broke through the distinct wing-like architecture of the main terminal building. The driver idled then popped the trunk and hoisted out her carry-on letting the wheels click to the pavement. She knew she over packed. She thanked him and adjusted the strap on her leather satchel as the cab pulled into the congested river of departure drop-offs.

The sliding doors opened with a breeze of recirculated air and she paused to let a cluster of businessmen pass by. She scanned the corridor and saw Mulder hovering near the escalators, a duffle bag at his feet. He was wearing a smart light blue shirt with a striped tie. She grinned at the fact that his dark grey suit jacket didn’t fully match his lighter dress pants. On her approach she noticed a particular boyish charm to the curl of his hair. He caught her eye and gave a wave. She quickly smiled and shifted her shoulder bag once again while she pulled her carry-on behind her.

“Good morning sunshine,” he stated while balancing two cups in a flimsy caddy, “I hope you don’t mind but I grabbed some coffee.”

“Thank you, Mulder.” She was genuinely surprised. He set the caddy down on the lid of the square trash can and pulled out a cup, handing it to her.

“How do you take it?”

“Uh, just cream and sugar.” Mulder fished around in the middle of the caddy and found her accoutrements. She slowly removed the lid and doctored up her drink.

“Not too early for you is it?” He asked after taking a sip from his cup.

“Reminds me of residency,” she said, shaking her head with a smile and pouring a splash of cream. “The line between late night and early morning was pretty hard to differentiate at times.”

“I find it’s when I’m my most productive. However the T.V. choices leave a lot to be desired,” he said with a shrug, reaching down for his well-travelled duffle bag. He unzipped it and pulled out a folder.

“Is this my debriefing?” Scully asked.

“A little light reading for the flight,” Mulder replied, watching her tuck the documents in the pocket of her shoulder bag. “C’mon, looks like we’re at the C gates.” She followed him down the corridor and to the entrance of the shuttles.

2 “I’ve heard the truth, Mulder. Now what I want are the answers.”

He offered to drive her home. She was exhausted but insisted she was fine. He squeezed her hand when she left to go find her car in the hospital parking deck.

Restlessness had set in when he arrived at home. Eyes darted to his cell phone on the desk, making sure he hadn’t missed a call. She’d call if she needed to. He shuffled through a stack of files he took from the office, looking for a particular case that matched a tip from Frohike. He flipped it open and returned to the computer keyboard, adding to the paragraph he was working on. The TV droned on in the background, coffee finished its brew cycle in the tiny kitchen.

Three taps on the door. He turned down the TV and listened then heard three more. He walked across the room and peered into the peephole then quickly flipped the lock and opened the door

“Hi,” she began, “I’m sorry I didn’t call.” She sucked her lower lip. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Come in,” he said stepping aside. She exhaled and slowly entered his apartment, brushing a wave of hair behind her ear. He quickly stacked his work and moved the pillows on the couch. She took a seat, fingers knitted tightly together in her lap. Her eyes closed as she climatized to his space. He gave her a minute and stepped into the kitchen. When returned she had pulled her hand away from her face, gracefully dabbing at her eye with her knuckle. He set two mugs down on the table and joined her.

“If you want to talk..”

“I don’t,” she said curtly, not intending to sound that short with him. “Not..not yet.” Her anger was still fresh. She was a raw nerve. He pressed his lips together and was patient. He had all the time in the world for her. Another slow exhale to steady herself and she reached for a mug. Cream and sugar. Warmth from the ceramic radiated against her hand; she felt another wave ready to break. He saw the downturn and gently took the mug from her, placing it next to his. She fought so hard but reluctantly crumbled. He embraced her; a shelter from the storm.

3 “Oh I don’t know Mulder, some things are better left unexplained.”

“So tell me more about this talking doll you found,” Mulder stated. Scully swallowed her bite of food and blinked at him.

“I never said it was a talking doll, Mulder. And besides, that was weeks ago, why are you still hung up on it?” He tossed the brown end of a french fry back into the bag and licked the salt from his thumb.

“Color me jealous.”

She stuffed a napkin in the empty fry container and added it to the trash on the table.

“Please tell me this hasn’t kept you up at night.”

“Not more so than usual,” he said with a shrug collecting their fast food wrappers. They left the outdoor seating area and started to walk down E Street. The lunch dates were a little more frequent than before. Her remission and recovery brought them closer together. Scully didn’t want to assume he missed her when she took a well-deserved weekend to herself but Mulder was shit at hiding how clingy he could be. It was all part of the process. He tapped the back of her arm and pointed at a coffee shop window. She agreed and he held the door. The wonderful aroma of roasted beans and steamed milk hit her senses. She peeked at the bakery case as he went to place their order. Mulder soon presented her with a cafe au lait and a wink. Her lips pursed as she blew on it. His gaze shifted to the perfect “o” of her mouth complimented by a subtle glossy lip tint. He then proceeded to burn his tongue as he eagerly went to drink his Sumatra roast, snapping him back to reality.

4 “Get over here, Scully”

The lights in the office were dim. He had set-up the slideshow reel to provide visual aid to a fairly vague case detail. However the only detail he was concerned with at the moment was the taste of her lips. A hint of honey from her lip balm, the whisper of milky coffee. Their cups grew cold and lonely sitting on his desk while they turned up the heat hiding amongst the shadows.

She was needy and pulled no punches. Hand rested firmly against his cheek as tongues danced and twisted. His stubble coarse against her fingertips. Last night at the ball field had ignited a spark. Remembering the feeling of his hands on her hips, cheek to cheek in the cool night air. His weight against her with each swing of the bat. He held her close once again; entwined together in a dark corner of the basement office.

“Remind me to bore you with slideshows more often,” he said, catching his breath. A warm smile crossed his face as he admired her.

“Shut up, Mulder,” she said before kissing him once again.

5 “What if there was only one choice and all the other ones were wrong?”

Three weeks had passed. Scully discovered she was leaving small items behind; a toothbrush, a sweatshirt, a travel sized hairbrush. Evening was still the preferred time of day. Dinner, maybe a beer or a glass of wine followed by ignoring the T.V. Mulder knew just the right amount of pressure to put on the tired muscles of her neck. A rush of circulation flowed through her. She leaned back against his chest and his hands wandered followed by his lips. She loved how he tenderly nipped at her earlobe, He was hard against her lower back and she worked her advantage between his legs. Clothes were shed like new skin. He was swift to carry her from the couch into more comfortable surroundings.

The linens held her scent, the walls held their cries. Deep and passionate. Primal. Two become one. He broke first and she was quick to chase him down. Chest heaving, muscles aching in the best way. They lay together as heart rates slowed. He traced her jawline, a thumb laid claim to her full lower lip. Lust-laden eyes blinked heavily. She decided to stay. Naked, satisfied, and loved.

Morning arrived with a deep yellow glow. She slowly shook off her slumber and reached beside her, feeling an empty bed. Her ear perked up listening for the shower but heard nothing. She slid to his side of the bed and glanced at the clock. Two hours before work. Her hand clutched the bedclothes to her chest and she heard keys hit the wood table in the other room. Mulder nudged the bedroom door open. Scully smiled and ran a hand through her hair, sitting upright.

“Morning,” she said. He approached and kissed the top of her head.

“I got us some coffee. Cream and sugar, of course.”

“You’re too good to me,” she said before realizing it. There was always so much unspoken between them. Affection was a given but rarely vocalized; arousal and desire usually won out. They operated well without words. She blushed and swung her legs over the edge of the bed tucking the sheet closer.

“Hey. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said.

6 “We will find him -- I have to.”

She needed an out. It was too much too fast and the fuel from her anger was on fumes. Scully dried her hands on the edge of her jacket and stormed down the corridor towards the elevator. That might have been the first time she actually threw a drink at someone. A bit dramatic but she would deal with that later, right now she needed to leave.

Her cell phone chirped and she promptly ignored it. The car shuddered as it idled in the parking deck, her head lay back against the headrest, a hand on her belly. She fought against an angry sob. The caller was persistent. She tried to collect herself. Another series of rings and she finally answered.

“Agent Scully? It’s Skinner.”

“Sir?”

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m on my way home. Is something the matter?” she questioned.

“You tell me,” Skinner replied with concern. She closed her eyes and slowly caressed her belly once again. He was the only one she could trust right now. He was trying to be a friend. She exhaled and asked if he could meet her in Georgetown.

Scully sat down at a familiar cafe with small outdoor tables nervously fidgeting with her phone. She didn’t want to deal with the questions, she just wanted to find him. She wanted to talk to him about what was going on and they could figure things out together. She needed to find him. Her attention shifted as a couple walked past with a friendly golden retriever. The animal bumped its nose into her leg then happily licked her hand before it’s owners chuckled and led him back down the sidewalk.

Skinner arrived and set down two cups of coffee along with a handful of sugar packets.

“I got you decaf.” he said sincerely as he took a seat, “hope that’s alright.”

“That’s fine. Thanks,” she said, reaching for the cup then removing the lid and adding half a sugar packet. Her heart ached and she was sure Skinner could see it. He was quiet, not wanting to overstep his boundaries.

“I uh, I just want you to know that I’m your ally in all of this. And if you need to talk…” he trailed off when he saw the change in her expression. She pressed her lips together.

“That means a lot, sir. Thank you.” She brushed away an errant tear and swallowed hard. They had much to discuss.

#i wrote this #msr #xf fanfic #scenes inbetween #mulder #scully #my fic

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readysetstarker · 3 years

Text

sorry for taking so long in updating this fic, everyone. life just sort of happened, and it didn’t stop happening for a while. thank you to everyone who still keeps up with this fic, for your patience and understanding.

a new thing you’ll notice with this chapter is that i’m no longer including a tag list. simply put: the amount of names on the list were beginning to overwhelm me, and it was near-impossible to keep up with people when they changed their usernames. sorry, loves. i hope y’all enjoy this chapter!

warnings: peter is 19. phone sex, edge play, masturbation, vibrators. short chapter, sorry, lol.

—

"For the last time, Stephen,” Tony growled, thumb and forefinger digging so hard into his eyes that he was seeing fireworks, “I am not going into detail about my ‘second job.’”

Tony swore he was a glutton for punishment. Had to be, to continue agreeing to meet Strange for lunch and get harassed about his night gigs. They had agreed to meet in the campus commons since both of them had a class to teach in an hour, but unlike Strange, Tony found nothing appealing about the college kitchen’s food. A black coffee suited him just fine. Even if it meant he was a little peckish over his next course.

The lack of food was probably what made him sound so cranky when trying to shut Strange down. No, he wasn’t going to entertain Strange with stories of weird or rude clients, wasn’t going to tell him which agency he worked for, and was absolutely not going to share his number so Strange could critique how he handled phone calls.

He was going to have to make a physical reminder for himself to reject lunch invitations from Strange for the rest of his life, or at least until his teaching career was over.

Once he had blinked past the initial blurriness that followed from massaging his eyes, he glanced up to find Strange scowling at the stack of lab reports he was grading. Tony had heard him making a few mumbled comments about how rushed most of them had been, and his input of It’s almost finals week, go easy on them was immediately followed by a frown and narrowed eyes in his direction.

And then Strange had so casually asked him about his “phone gig” and fought a smirk when Tony glowered.

“I just asked,” Strange responded while quickly scratching down a comment in red. A few quick x-es across a graph and he looked up from across the cafeteria table towards him. “And I did tell you I was curious.”

“Why do you even care?”

“Maybe I want to get into it.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Stephen.” Strange did smirk at that, or was he smirking at the obscene amount of red writing on the last paragraph of the lab report? Tony was grateful they had graduated together. “You’re doing this to torture me.”

“A little of both,” Strange admitted. He closed that lab report and moved onto the next one. The big question mark near the top page made Tony’s stomach flip, and he needed to look away. “And genuinely want to know what about your relationship with Mr. Parker made putting your job in jeopardy worth it. Maybe it’s because I’m not you, I don’t see the appeal.”

“Sure, but maybe that’s because you haven’t seen him when he’s turned on his camera and has a pillow between hi—”

Strange pointed the end of his pen at Tony, holding it like a knife. “God damn you, Stark, I’m the boy’s teacher! At least for another two weeks. Watch your mouth.”

“You asked.” Tony shrugged and picked up his half-eaten burger for a bite.

Strange closed his eyes, shook his head, and sighed. “Why have I put up with you for all these years?”

“My guess is that I have so much blackmail material on you, you’re worried I’ll release your attempt at a home-made sex tape with your then-girlfriend that you emailed to our entire groupchat.” Tony shrugged when Strange looked away to continue grading papers. “Hey, Stephen. Honestly, I appreciate your discretion with this whole...thing.”

Strange flipped to the second page of his student’s report. He tapped the end of his pen against the paper.

“You’re stupid, but you’re not a complete idiot,” he answered. Tony snorted into his coffee. “If shit hits the fan, though, I want a promise that you won’t be bringing my name up. I don’t want to be more involved in this than I already am.”

Tony silently agreed and took a sip of the shitty coffee in his cup. It held the same gritty consistency of the instant stuff Tony and Strange used to drink when they were younger. It had to be the cause for his lifelong insomnia, but the sweet siren-song of caffeine was too strong for him to resist. He’d even debase himself to drinking whatever this was.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Strange asked. He capped the red pen and set it aside along with his completed grading. “Sure, the break will give you some reprieve, and some much-needed time off. But January will be here soon, and you’ll have to be prepared to deal with this when you come back.”

Tony nodded and drummed his fingernails on the tabletop.

“I’ve actually kind of handled it already,” he said. The coffee was still warm, although it was teetering on the edge of room temperature and beginning to sour. He grimaced and slid the cup closer to the center of the table. “Actually, that’s a lie, the kid was the one who made the decision.”

Strange’s brow rose. “Did he talk some sense into you?”

Tony nodded. “He said the job was more important, which, good on him. He’s right. So, whatever we had over the phone is done with, and he’s agreed not to go running to our dear Brucie Bear about it.”

Strange muttered a few words to himself, mostly in praise of Peter. A good head on his shoulders, which Tony had to agree with. It was the best and safest option for both, even if Tony found himself missing his favorite client when nights were particularly slow. He just had to remind himself what the university would do to him if he so much as thought about Peter in the wrong way.

That, and another painful swallow of the dining hall coffee in front of him helped keep his head.

The topic of his relationship with Peter finally died off. He and Strange began discussing other plans, such as the faculty Christmas party, what they planned to do for their holiday breaks, and whether or not Strange would finally have the guts to propose to Christine. (Unlikely, Tony thought, but that didn’t stop him from pestering Strange about it.)

He left back for his lecture hall in good spirits. Until an email notification came up on his phone. Would he be able to properly train and teach with a TA if he got a no-contact order against Flash Thompson?

—

Another slow night. Tony hated these, when there were no assignments to grade, no more emails to answer, and no movie or show interesting enough to sit through for a few hours before bed. His final exams were already written, proofread (thanks to his two new TAs), and finalized. Hell, he had already printed them out and had them sitting in a folder on his desk, waiting for the Wednesday they would be taken.

Damn him and his need to be prepared.

There was nothing to occupy his time with besides cracking open a new bottle of scotch and opening up his second line for calls. He had even taken an early shower and rubbed one out, leaving him soft for the few calls he did get in the past two hours.

His night was beginning to wrap up early, and he considered the idea of getting an extra hour of sleep when his phone went off, and he greeted the caller after a quick swallow of liquor.

“Hey there, baby. You’re up awfully late.”

There was a feminine giggle on the other line. Tony took another sip of scotch and cleared his throat.

“I’m just so bored,” the caller confessed, her voice high but quiet. Almost a whisper. Tony imagined her platinum blonde and twisting her hair around her finger. She was probably biting her lip through another giggle. “Nothing fun enough to keep my interest. But I bet you can keep me entertained.”

Tony chuckled and set his scotch on his coffee table. “Baby, I’ll give you one hell of a ride. Help pass the time a little bit. What sounds fun for you?”

The woman on the phone giggled to herself, then sighed. Tony wondered if she was sitting on her couch the way he was, leg propped up in an easy position to touch herself, or if she was lying in bed with a silk kimono undone and falling off her arms. He could hear the faint buzz of a vibrator in the background. A low setting, enough to keep her interested until things revved up.

He heard shuffling and a light squeak. Definitely a bed, probably with a mattress that needed replacing.

“Mmm,” she hummed, “my boyfriend’s been working late so many nights. He doesn’t have time to worship me like I deserve.”

“Well, that’s just criminal.” Tony sipped at his drink. He let the liquid sit and burn on his tongue before swallowing. “Why don’t you lie back, baby, and let me give you what he can’t. Would you prefer my tongue, or my fingers first?”

Another pleased sigh, followed by the sound of the vibrator turning up a notch. “Oh, yes,” she moaned. “I want your tongue, Daddy, please.”

Tony’s cock throbbed between his thighs. He began to reach for himself without a second thought, then stopped himself as he felt his fingertips along his trapped length. What was he, a teenger?

“Well, how could I deny such a sweet, polite little thing.” Tony let his free hand lay on his thigh. “Lean back and let Daddy take care of you.”

Tony wasn’t used to most of his partners taking the lead, but he did rather enjoy listening to the way the woman ordered him around the way she wanted her pussy eaten. If Tony put his “tongue” where she didn’t want it, she would forcefully rearrange him, or make him slow down if he sped up too quickly. It was entertaining, if nothing else.

But God, she was doing things to him that he really wasn’t expecting. Mostly, in the form of calling him “Daddy.” Nothing else she did riled him up as much. Each moan of the word had his dick twitching and growing until the fabric of his sweatpants had darkened where his head pressed against it.

Honestly, truly, Tony hadn’t wanted to get off more than once tonight.

Against expectations, Tony found himself shifting in his seat until he could get his sweatpants down to his thighs. His cock twitched in the cool air of the room, free and still leaking where it fell to rest against his stomach. Tony wrapped a hand around his shaft and locked his fingers just beneath the head.

The vibrator on the other end kicked up once more, with the woman begging to be fucked. “Enough teasing, enough of your fingers! Please, Daddy, want you in me.”

Daddy again. A steady drip of pre-cum leaked over Tony’s fingers. He allowed himself a few slow strokes. Just enough to keep the throbbing at bay. He could take care of himself later, once this call was over.

Unfortunately for him, his caller was insistent on dragging out her pleasure. The vibrato went down a notch, with her asking him to “slow down.” Tony agreed, made a comment about edgeplay, and was answered with a moan. She wanted to take as long as she possibly could with it.

More orders. Speed up, slow down, use his fingers instead of his dick. Tony played along well enough, but the repetition was beginning to bore him. He could only pretend to eat her out for so long before his attention began to wane. How long did she expect him to keep this up? He supposed the payout would make up for the monotony of it.

If this is what her so-called “boyfriend” put up with every time they fucked, it was no wonder to Tony that she had to turn to a stranger to entertain herself.

The rhythm of her demands never seemed to change; start slow, work her up, getting her vibrator working loud enough that Tony could hear it over her moans, and then she would suddenly turn it back to a gentle rumble and demand Tony “finger” her instead. After a few moments where she would regain her composure and slip away from the edge of her release, she’d kick everything up again. Wash, rinse, repeat.

If Tony could be honest, he was growing bored.

He let his mind wander while she took control of the situation. He gave his input when prompted, a few chuckles and a lewd comment here and there. Enough to keep her entertained while Tony idly rubbed himself and delved into one of his own fantasies.

Instead of an older woman on the other end of a phone line, Tony imagined himself sitting in his office on campus and successfully having a face-to-face conversation with Bruce while a young student sat on their knees and swallowed him down. Nothing he would dare attempt in real life, but the potential excitement in the fantasy was enough to keep him engaged.

Maybe, Bruce would get onto him about class averages, or a student complained because a snappy comment landed a little too harshly. Maybe, there were suspicions of him having an inappropriate relationship with a student, and Bruce wanted to ask him about it before the rumors reached the dean’s ears.

That would be incredibly hot, lying right to Bruce’s face while a student wrapped their lips around him.

Tony could see it. He could lie right to Bruce’s face in this scenario. No, no, Brucie Bear, you’ve got me all wrong. I would never do something so heinous. I respect myself and my students too much to ever get entangled with them.

In his head, Bruce believed him and said he would intercept the rumors before Tony’s reputation took a hit too big to come back from. Tony could grin and thank Bruce for his loyalty and trust, all while digging his fingers into pretty chestnut hair and pulling his student so far down his shaft that they have to work to keep their gagging silent.

And at the turn of Bruce’s back, Tony could look down at the student beneath him. Watch them pull off with drool sliding around their lips and down their chin, meet those pretty brown eyes as they look up at him and moan out a ragged, Daddy…

Tony gasped when his orgasm hit him, ropes of cum splashing over his fingers and shirt. He squeezed himself as the waves of it crashed over him. His thighs were shaking, and his chest ached as though he had run a marathon.

In his ear, pure silence. Not even the faint buzz of the woman’s vibrator. Did she finally come, and waited for him to do the same? Not that he really meant to, he would have just lied to her if she asked.

He expected to hear a dial tone.

A scoff, instead. She had taken offense. Did she want him to wait for her? God, he’d be waiting all night if that happened. Would show up to work the next morning a sleep-haggard, semi-caffeinated zombie.

Tony was going to apologize, maybe offer her a refund since his orgasm could have ruined hers. She spoke before he got the chance.

“Who the fuck is Peter?”

Tony hung up. He almost considered throwing the phone out the window, or tossing it into the fireplace and watching it burn. He settled for shutting it off for the night and hiking his sweats back up over his hips. He buried his face in his clean hand and cursed, loudly and harshly, at himself.

The rest of his night was spent in guilt, thinking of the fantasy that got him off and the customer that would surely be leaving a complaint about him. He washed his hands, changed his clothes, and buried his second phone in the back of a kitchen cabinet so he could begin working on forgetting that the phone call ever happened.

#starker #ironspider #peter parker x tony stark #my work #phone sex au #nff

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desiraypark · 4 years

Text

“Thief!”

For @bluestarego Characters: Officer Ronnie Peterson (The Dead Don’t Die) x Black Female Reader Content: Smut. Roleplay (Officer and Burglar). Handcuffs. Oral sex (M receiving) - minimal face-fuck (gagging); unprotected sex; riding/cowgirl; cumshot; spanking. Includes some links.

Word Count: 2.6k

The blonde wig? Yes. Light, colorful makeup? No. Dark. A smoky eye and red lips. You searched through your closet and dresser for the perfect burglar outfit. A black turtleneck sweater. Damn, you didn’t own a single pair of black jeans! Leggings would have to do. No high-heeled boots? Stiletto pumps would do.

You looked over Ronnie’s dresser and grabbed his watch. It wasn’t a Rolex but it was still nice. You grabbed your phone, held up the watch, and took a selfie--mischief all over your face. Then, you put the watch on your wrist. It dangled a bit, but you winked and blew a kiss to the camera, anyway. ____________________

Bzzzzz…

Ronnie and Cliff were on their way back to the station when his phone vibrated. He got a look at the photos in the text message. Then, he read the text: “What a terrible police officer. Leaving your door unlocked.” Ronnie slipped the phone back in his pocket.

Read. ____________________

Ronnie’s headlights shined through the curtains. You turned off the television, jumped off the sofa, stepped back into your pumps, and ran to the bedroom. Eeeernnnn went the screen door. Two locks turned with loud clicks and steel-toe boots hit the hardwood floor. You hid in the closet.

“You left the light on, perp,” Ronnie said. You could tell he was still in the doorway.

He walked to the bed.

“Breaking and entering?” he asked. Your chest moved up and down and you peeked through the slats of the closet door. Ronnie bent down and looked under the bed, then he stood back up and rotated on his axis, searching the room--avoiding the obvious spot for a second. He walked to his dresser and looked through the jewelry dish you’d made for him a couple of years ago. His watch was gone.

“Larceny? The rap sheet grows with every move I make…”

Ronnie finally turned to face the closet. He took slow steps and you backed up into the clothing. He stood at the door for a few seconds. Then, the closet door flew open and he yanked you out by your right arm.

“It’s always the closet,” he said.

You laughed. “Yet it took you so long to find me, Officer.”

He grabbed your other wrist and examined his dangling watch.

“Are you going to arrest me for your negligence, Officer?”

With no expression on his face and looked you up and down. “No. But I will punish you, you naughty girl.” His eyes fell on the watch again.

“Do you like this watch, thief?” he asked.

“It’s alright. I figure it could get me about a hundred dollars…”

“What else did you see in that ugly dish?” he asked, dropping your wrist.

You paused. Did he just?

“Another watch. A class ring.” You shrugged. “Nothing to write home about.”

“I hear the lady of the house has a few expensive items. Clothing. Jewelry...” He looked down at your feet.

“...and a seven-hundred dollar pair of shoes that she thinks her husband hasn’t notice.”

“ShegotthemoffeBay,” you quickly interjected.

Ronnie yanked you close. “I suppose I could let you take what you want....”

You turned on the flirtation and rested your hand on his chest. “Would you, Officer?”

He gripped the wrist near his chest and squeezed it tight. “But you have to work for it, thief.”

“What do I have to do, Officer?”

Ronnie stared at the bed, then looked into your eyes. “Get on the bed. Take your clothes off. Everything but those shoes.”

You bit your lip and sauntered over to the bed.

“And no funny business,” he added.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Officer.”

You sat down on the bed and lifted your turtleneck over your head--hoping it didn’t shift your wig. It didn’t. You let it drop to the floor and revealed your bare breasts.

“No bra? A thief and a little minx with no care for back pain.”

You bit your lip to hide a laugh.

“The leggings, too.”

You lifted your hips and pushed two layers of fabric--your leggings and your panties--over your hips, thighs, and legs. You put in extra work to get them over for shoes. Finally, everything was off, and there you were, on the bed in your lamp-lit bedroom--tits out, belly exposed, and thighs hiding your puffy mound.

Ronnie pulled the handcuffs out of his duty belt.

“Officer, you said you wouldn’t arrest me,” you said, scooting back on the bed.

He stepped toward you and took your hands. “I’m not arresting you. Only making sure you don’t run away from me. From your punishment.”

Ronnie cuffed your hands in front of you, then pulled off his duty belt. He walked to his dresser and gently placed it on top, then walked back over.

“Would you let me have anything in that belt, Officer?”

“Absolutely not, thief!” he said. His volume low but his pitch was a little high. How dare you ask such a question?! He grabbed your jaw and bent down--his lips mere centimeters from yours. “That belt is property of Centerville PD. Not to be handled by your grubby little hands.”

You moaned at the pressure his thumb and fingers inflicted on your jaw. Then, he licked a stripe up your lips.

“Mmm…” he said. “Rihanna lipstick with no liner. A risky criminal.”

Ronnie let go of your face and straightened his body. He worked the belt of his pants, slowly pulled it out through the loops and let it drop to the floor. Then, he worked at the button and zipper. He toed off his shoes, and pulled down his pants and boxers--revealing his semi-hard-on.

“I want you to suck me until I’m hard as a rock,” he said. He began to stroke himself. “And I’d advise that you not get any of that lipstick on my cock.”

Your eyes widened. “Officer…” You swallowed.

“That would be extremely difficult. This is a very rich--”

Ronnie pulled your head toward him and tapped your lips with the tip of his dick. Right away, you spotted red smears on the underside of the head.

“Suck, perp.”

You opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around Ronnie’s head as he held his dick near the start of its shaft. Then, you licked swirls around it. After getting it nice and wet, you began to bob your head up and down, meeting Ronnie’s thumb.

“Mmm, touch my thumb every time, Sweet One,” he cooed. You touched his thumb once more, then when you pulled back, he slid his hand down to the middle of his shaft. After about a dozen sucks and red stains to his thumb after every head drop, he moved his hand down further--his free hand still resting on the back of your head.

“Your mouth feels so warm and hot around me, Beautiful…” he flattened his fingers and let them rest against his thigh--his thumb was nestled in his pubic hair.

“To my thumb,” he repeated.

You took him all in and gagged when the tip met the back your throat. Ronnie kept your head in place. “Mmm...so what’s your name, perp?”

“Y/N,” you garbled with a mouth full of dick.

“Oh, that’s a beautiful name,” he said. He released your head and you flew backward with a gasp.

“Fuck!” you shouted.

“Mmm...watch the language, Beautiful…” he reprimanded while slapping his dick against your bottom lip. “Keep sucking.”

Ronnie didn’t put his hand back behind your head, but he held his dick for you. With no hands, your head moved forward and backward, inhaling his length. You focused your teary eyes on his.

“That mouth feels wonderful,” Ronnie said. “So wet around my cock. It’s so hot for you. Blood rushing through all of those veins. Excited to have such a beautiful little minx like you pleasing it. Getting it nice and hard...”

Your eyes fluttered and you moaned. You suddenly felt everything around you--the warmth of your home juxtapose your stiff nipples. Your nerves were alive--every atom in your body was aching to be touched, to be shaken and stirred. Your clit was warm, and your hot pussy was building a reservoir of honey.

“How should I take you, perp?” Ronnie asked. “Missionary? Should I spread your beautiful legs wide and watch the pressure build in your face as I give you every inch of my cock? As I watch your breasts bounce? As I watch the tears well in your eyes because your sticky fingers can’t grab anything?”

You moaned again and pressed your thighs together.

“Or should I take from behind?” he inquired. “...bend you over and bury myself deep inside of you. Watch your beautiful ass ripple with every thrust…”

You pulled away to take a breath. Then you kept sucking.

“Ahh…” Ronnie said, smiling to himself. “I forgot that I’m supposed to be putting you to work.”

He pulled himself away and looked down at his dick. Red marks were all over it. He shook his head.

“Lipstick all over my dick.” He tsk’d. “Do you know what the punishment is for that?”

“No, Sir…” you whimpered.

Ronnie ran the back of his palm over your face. “I don’t, either. But Desiray will think of something.”

You scoffed and chuckled. Then, you raised your cuffed hands. “She can’t even figure out if she wants this watch to be significant.”

Ronnie raised his eyebrows and nodded in agreement. Then, he unbuttoned his shirt. You rotated your hips, anxious for friction and relief. He pulled off his shirt, and undershirt, as well. Then, he sat on the bed and stroked his dick.

“Put that beautiful pussy to work, thief,” he commanded, staring into your eyes.

You stood up and wobbled a little. Those shoes were a mistake. But you put your arms over Ronnie’s head and rested your hands behind his neck. Then, you straddled him--your knees pressed on either side of him and your chest flushed with his. He moved his hand around under you.

“Sit down,” he said.

You lowered yourself and felt the head of his dick at your entrance--warm flesh meeting warm and wet flesh. Then, you pressed your hips down further. Your eyes closed and your head flew back as your core opened and welcomed his throbbing length. Down, down, down you went--he guided you--until the his warm head reached the bottom of your canal.

“Bounce.”

You lifted your body and crashed back down. Up...down...up...down...Ronnie smacked your ass.

“I said bounce, perp.”

You shifted your body--pressing it against Ronnie’s as his dick stretched your walls wider with each tiny movement. Then you bounced up and down. You cried out with each stroke and let your breasts fly free in his face. He walked the tips of his fingers up your sternum, over your chest, and wrapped his hand around your throat--not pressing down, however.

“Naughty girl. Bouncing on an officer’s dick to keep from getting arrested. For some jewelry and a few trinkets. Coating his dick with her sweet juice…”

“Fuck Ronnie…” you mumbled.

His hand flew up to your jaw and he squeezed. “Excuse me?”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“That’s strike two on the language, Angel. And that’s Sir or Officer,” he said.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I just can’t take it--it’s too much,” you whined. “My thighs are burning.”

“As they should, you fucking crook,” he said.

“Ahhh!” you cried out. Every nerve in your body was frayed--your entire body was pulsing. Your thighs burned but your pussy clenched Ronnie’s girth--dripping, weeping, and squelching for more of the stinging pleasure.

“Lift your arms,” Ronnie said, his voice less stoic.

You lifted your arms over his head and Ronnie fell back on the bed with you on top of him. You rested your arms along his torso and he wrapped his arms around your waist, and worked his hips up toward you--slow and deep.

“You don’t deserve a break,” he said. “But I’ve got the urge to fill your filthy pussy with my cum.”

You moaned and shifted your arms around, careful not to press the metal restraints into his skin.

“Do you want my cum?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir,” you whimpered.

“I can feel you clenching. Hungry little pussy. I’m gonna feed her. I’m gonna fill her up so well and fill her deep. Gonna cover her poor, stretched out walls…”

“Please, Officer,” you pleaded. “Then, can I have my gifts?”

Ronnie laughed. “You haven’t received your punishment yet, Sweet One.”

“Did Desiray figure it out?”

“Yes. Not as creative as I’d hoped. But a punishment is a punishment.”

He slapped your ass and fucked up into you hard and just a little bit faster--making you clench and moan and scream and writhe. He offered no kisses or comforting rubs. He just burned you with his stare and watched every expression on your face. Then, you felt the pressure pooling in your belly. Your pussy throbbed and fluttered around him, and you began to meet his thrusts.

Suddenly, Ronnie flipped you over on your back, pulled out, and stood up.

“Ah!” you screamed.

“For soliciting an officer, you get forty-eight hours without an orgasm,” he said.

You stomped your feet on the floor and whined.

“If at any point you provide yourself with an orgasm and I find out, I will fuck your throat raw,” he added.

Ronnie put his knee against the mattress and stood over you. He rubbed his dick--spreading your juices all over his length--stroking and stroking until he neared his climax.

“Where do you want it?” he asked. You opened your mouth and wagged your tongue. Ronnie kneeled over your face and covered your chin, lips, and tongue with ropes of his cum. You swallowed what fell in your mouth and licked your lips. Ronnie didn’t bother wiping your chin. He just grabbed you by the arms and picked you up. He sat back down and put you over his knee.

Then, he rubbed your ass. “Five spanks for breaking and entering...five for marking my dick with your lipstick...and fifteen for being a terrible cowgirl who couldn’t handle a little thigh burn.”

You whined again.

“Count them…” Ronnie commanded.

He rubbed your ass again, then smack! on the right cheek. You jumped.

“Fuck you Desiray!” you shouted. “One…”

Smack!

“Two…”

Twenty-five spanks to your poor buttocks. A few landed on your wet pussy lips, too. When your punishment was complete, Ronnie sat you on the bed, walked to the dresser and retrieved his handcuff keys.

“Can I take these shoes off, now?” you asked, rotating your ankle.

“Oh, absolutely, Honey,” Ronnie said. You kicked off your shoes and he kissed you on the lips. He unlocked the cuffs, tossed them on the bed, and rubbed your wrists. He sat down beside you and gave each wrist a kiss. Then, he looked down and picked up one of your shoes.

“These don’t smell like they’re from eBay,” he said.

“What the fuck does eBay smell like, Ronnie?” you asked. You fell back on the bed.

“These shoes are $695.00 on Christian Louboutin dot com,” he said, ignoring your question.

“But I didn’t pay that much. And what do you know about them?” you asked. “I know what bloody shoes look like and I know they’re expensive,” Ronnie said.

“Bloody sh--”

The song played in your head and you chuckled.

Still examining the shoes, Ronnie tapped the heel against the palm of his hand. “Decent weapons.”

You huffed.

“Can you get up here and make me come, please?!”

You spread your legs open.

Ronnie looked at the heel of your shoe, then your pussy--then, your shoe again.

“Absolutely not,” you said firmly.

Ronnie looked at me. I looked at you. Your eyes burned a hole into my soul. I moved my fingers from the keyboard and held my hands in the air, surrendering. Then, I clicked the Grammarly icon in the corner of my screen and considered this entry ‘done’.

#ronnie peterson smut

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obligatorynasty · 4 years

Photo

The Weight of the Knife, Part 3: Beveled

Part: [1] [2] [3] | Read on: AO3 | WC: ~11k | Please excuse any typos.

Main Tags: BadBoy!Tony, Highschool AU, NFF, Angst, TW:Mentions of Blood, TW:Abuse, TW:Graphic Depictions of Violence, TW:Bullying, TW:Underage Drinking and Smoking, Bruises, Hangovers and Mentions of Puke, [Read all tags on AO3]

Dedicated to @starker-stories, whose love for this AU kept me motivated to write more.

~*11*~

For the remainder of the day, Peter and Tony stayed in their room, save for the occasional bathroom break or a food delivery courtesy of Ned. They chose to relax together, underneath the covers, in each others’ arms, far away from everything and everyone, especially the aggravating presence of Quentin Beck. Peter wondered how he, once again, fell for a false earnesty and Tony lamented about being an absolute wreck over his father’s conniving behavior. It was almost therapeutic to realize that they were being toyed with; to realize that their fights had been exaggerated by outside forces; to finally see it had not all been their fault.

And after hours of emotional exhaustion, Tony had fallen asleep, snug against Peter’s stomach, arms wrapped around the younger’s torso. Peter, however, was wide awake. Despite his hangover, he was determined to fulfill his promise. He would protect Tony at all costs, even if it meant staying up into the night, fighting his headache, and sifting through the plethora of files in the Stark Industries database.

With Jarvis, Peter was able to compile some very damning evidence about the company, including its dealings with terrorism and the various transgressions of its CEO. He even had security cam footage from the Stark mansion. Some clips were so heartbreaking that he couldn't bring himself to watch them. Video after video of his most precious person being abused by someone who should care for him the most.

Peter sighed and placed the phone against the nightstand, running a hand through Tony’s hair as he did. His boyfriend was so innocent when he slept, his eyelashes gently twitching in dreams and his soft snores vibrating against Peter’s abdomen. It was almost a shame to have to wake him, but he needed him for what came next. “Tones,” Peter whispered, softly tapping his fingertip against Tony’s cheek. “Wake up.”

Tony stirred awake, yawning as he spoke, “Is it time?”

“Yeah.”

Before Tony’s nap, they had discussed what to do about Quentin. Tony’s anger did not go away. It was just sharper, more focused, not as unhinged as before. He wanted payback in the form of violence and, if Peter was honest with himself, he did too.

Quentin had played Peter for a fool. He tricked him into defending their fabricated friendship; tricked him into believing that friendship – that stupid, insignificant friendship – was somehow worth all of the arguments with Tony. Peter didn’t just want payback – no, he wanted some fucking retribution. He wanted Quentin Beck to regret what he had done.

And he wanted it to hurt.

So Peter shared his plan, in whispered breaths during their lazy day, convinced by the devious smirk it brought to Tony’s face, that it would please them both. And it started there: right outside of Quentin’s door.

“Beck?” Peter spoke as he knocked, his free hand restlessly clutching the handle of his suitcase. “Are you awake?”

The faint sound of footsteps approaching the door made Peter’s heart race but, surprisingly enough, especially to Peter, it wasn’t because of nerves. It was the adrenaline of knowing what was to come coursing through his veins. As the door swung open, he put on a terrified expression, attempting to sell his distress with wet eyes, a furrowed brow, and a frown. “Beck,” He let his voice tremble like he was on the verge of tears.

“What’s wrong, kid?” Quentin asked, moving to place a hand against Peter’s face, thumbing at the tear that escaped his lower lash. “Why do you have your bag? What’s going on?”

Peter clenched his teeth and leaned into Quentin’s touch, trying to be as persuasive as possible, “We need to leave.”

“Why-?”

“Tony hit me,” Peter lied, feigning his sorrow with a sniffle and a stressful hand through his hair. “You were right about him. I should’ve listened, I should’ve-”

“Shh,” Quentin pulled Peter into a hug. “It’s okay. We can leave. I’ll pack my stuff.”

“Okay, but be quick,” Peter urged, shaking as he prevented himself from flinching out of Quentin’s grasp. “Tony doesn’t know I’m leaving.” An extra lie, coated in a frantic tone that made Quentin pack in a hurry, carelessly throwing his belongings into his suitcase before zipping it up and grabbing his keys from atop the dresser.

“Okay, come on,” Quentin whispered, following Peter into the hall as he closed the door behind him.

That was easier than Peter thought it would be. And with one task complete, Peter moved onto the next: the keys. As they reached the top of the staircase, Peter made a show of how heavy his bag was; struggling with two hands as he slowly took the first step, and then an even slower second, and a third at a snail’s pace…

“Here, let’s trade,” Quentin offered, handing Peter his keys in exchange for the suitcase.

And as he clutched the keys, watching Quentin carrying both bags down the stairs, Peter couldn’t stop himself from smirking. The next part of his plan began once they made it outside and walked down the driveway, far enough away from the house that what followed wouldn’t be heard.

Quentin stopped at the curb, turning on his heel, “Hey, kid, unlock the car, would you?”

Peter shook his head, face expressionless as he stared into Quentin’s puzzled eyes. “No,” He said as he reached into his pocket, pulling out Tony’s butterfly knife and flipping it open. “I can’t do that, Quentin,” He added as he held the knife forward.

Quentin gave a slow, confused laugh, “What’s going on, kid?”

“You know exactly what’s going on,” Peter glared at him, his anger starting to seep out. “How much is Mr. Stark paying you, hm? Enough to buy a fancy new car?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Quentin immediately denied, a feeble attempt at maintaining his ruse.

Peter sighed, reaching into his pocket, switching the keys for his phone. “Quentin Beck, 18, works for Mysterio Incorporated as a professional grifter,” Peter snorted at the next line. “A prodigy in the art of the con. A bit of a stretch there, no?” He continued, “Official job assignment: sever all social, physical, and romantic connections between Peter Parker and Tony Stark.” He said, pointing the phone screen towards Quentin. “Still don’t know what I’m talking about?”

Quentin immediately dropped his gaze but then he laughed, slow and a bit dismayed, “I’ll give it to you, Parker, you’ve surprised me.” As he lifted his head, he seemed to relax in a different, less-friendly persona like a chameleon donning its natural color. “How’d you find out?”

“I heard you on the phone.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have taken that call,” Quentin shook his head, “You know, this was supposed to be an easy job,” He pointed out, “Break up a scared little kid and a violent asshole.” He kicked the suitcases onto their sides, “But, of course, you turn out to be just as crazy as he is,” He snapped, “You two are fucking perfect for each other!”

Peter was unfazed by Quentin’s anger – in fact, he was indifferent to it; there were no trembles or fear, not even a flinch. “That’s very nice of you,” He nodded and looked over his shoulder. “Don’t you think, Tones?”

“Yeah,” Tony spoke as he stepped out of his car, cigarette and lighter in hand, nonchalantly having a smoke as he leaned against the car’s hood. “We are perfect for each other, baby.”

“Fuck this shit,” Quentin rolled his eyes, holding his hand out. “Give me the car keys, Parker.”

“Come and get them,” Peter taunted and tightened his grip on the knife.

Quentin scoffed, taking a step closer to Peter, “And what the fuck are you going to do with that?” He shook his head and took another step. “What? Stab me?” Another step. “A scared little bitch like you would never .” Another step; inches away from the knife. “Now give me the goddamn keys!” Quentin yelled, lunging towards Peter to snatch the keys, but his efforts were fruitless.

Peter slid his foot back, angling his body so that the pocket with the keys faced away from the impending grasp. He inhaled fast, his hand reactively flinching, swiping the blade of the knife against Quentin’s outstretched arm. And as he pulled away, he exhaled and glanced down at the knife, its beveled edge now streaked in a thin layer of blood. Then his gaze flickered to Tony, who was puffing gray into the latenight air, watching the interaction without an ounce of worry. The sight kept Peter calm as his focus moved back to Quentin, who had recoiled backward with a hiss, clutching his arm.

“You stupid little- you cut me!” Quentin snapped, fists balling in anger. “I’m not fucking playing with you, Parker!” He dashed forward, so caught up in his rage that he paid no attention to his biggest threat. Not bothering to notice the cigarette that had been flicked against the pavement; not even glancing up to see how close in proximity the looming threat was. It was a grave mistake.

Tony wound back his fist and clocked Quentin so hard in the jaw that he stumbled backward, tripping against a crack in the pavement. His hands shot down against the warm concrete, palms scratching on the abrasive surface as he broke his fall. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth and the cuts on his hands and arm, but there was no time to focus on the pain. He rolled over, quickly shifting to get back on feet, but the bad boy had descended, pinning him against the ground. He had no choice but to brace himself as a flurry of quick jabs were unleashed on his face, the force of which would no doubt break his nose if he did nothing. So he pushed, wrestling Tony onto his side, trying to flip them entirely and turn the tides of their fight, but Tony’s knee in his gut threw that plan into the water.

On impulse, Quentin clutched his stomach, letting out a pained grunt, watching as Tony stood and poised himself to kick the same place he had kneed. Acting quickly, Beck rolled, dodging the kick and finally managing to get back on his feet. Much like the fight against Loki, Quentin fought passively, fists squared to protect his face as he waited for Tony’s next move.

Tony laughed, brimming with a refined rage like he had dragged all that unhinged anger to an anvil and forged his next attacks. He was light on his feet, taking a boxer’s stance and closing in to throw a couple of jabs at Quentin’s openings. There were a few misses to the face, but a single hooked punch to the side had Quentin hunched over.

And from there, it might as well have been decided. Tony grabbed Quentin in a headlock, letting loose a whirlwind of punches to his side, reveling in the way Quentin collapsed to his knees in pain. It was when Tony grabbed Quentin’s arm and positioned himself to break it that Peter finally interjected.

“No bones, Tony,” Peter stepped towards them, placing a hand against Tony’s shoulder. “We are still kicking him out. He has to drive.”

“Didn’t you say that piece of shit car was self-driving?”

“I did, but-”

“A rib?” Tony asked, his eyes dilated from the adrenaline of the fight as he held Quentin in place.

Peter glanced down at the bruised boy, whose eyes were teeming with a spark of defiance, and he found himself wanting to watch that spark get extinguished. “That’s fine.”

What followed was a kick to Quentin’s ribs so forceful that he screamed and started to give in, gasping and wincing in pain, “Fuck you, Parker!”

“Tony,” Peter whispered. “Another.”

And Quentin couldn’t get a word in before the pain of having a rib broken blended with the pain of having an already broken rib kicked. “Okay!” He grunted out, fear glazed across the tone of his voice. “Okay, fucking stop! Stop!”

“Tones,” Peter said it like a command and Tony followed it by holding Quentin still in a kneeling position. Then, Peter stepped in front of Quentin, squatting down to match gazes, “Are you ready to apologize?”

“What the fuck?” Quentin growled, weakly struggling against Tony’s hold. “No! I was hired!”

“Tony, I didn’t hear an apology, did you?” Peter asked as he hovered the butterfly knife in front of Quentin’s throat. “Maybe he needs a little more. How many ribs do you think you can break before a person passes out from all the pain?”

Quentin’s eyes went wide. Even with a knife outstretched and poised at his throat, the words that fell from Peter’s mouth were somehow sharper and more perilous. “Fine!” He broke, voice cracking under the force of Peter’s threat. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for what I did, okay? I’m sorry.”

“See?” Peter smiled, hovering the knife upward and pressing it gently against Quentin’s face. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

And Quentin let out a defeated laugh, “How are you even the same person I saved last week?”

“I’m not,” Peter stood, pulling the car keys from his pocket and throwing them into the sand. “Now fetch and don’t come back.”

~*12*~

“Did you get my email with the security cam footage?” Peter spoke into his phone, pacing back and forth in the sand. “Yeah, it’s really bad. Did you call the lawyer? Do you think he can do something with it?” He asked, stepping into the wet sand, enjoying the feeling of warm water splashing against his feet. “Thanks, May. Yes, now I’m having fun. Yeah, Tony too. Nope, there’s no alcohol. No, I’m not lying. My voice doesn’t have a tone. It doesn’t!” He laughed, turning on his heel, surprised to find Tony walking towards him with two drinks in hand. “Oh, May, I’ve got to go. Yeah, Tony’s here. Okay, okay, I’ll tell him. Bye!” Peter hung up the call, smiling as he took a cup from Tony. “May says hi and that she misses you.”

“Auntie called?” Tony’s eyebrow shot up. “Why didn’t you say so? I could’ve talked to her.”

“You can talk to her when we get back,” Peter waved it off, taking a quick sip of the fizzy mixed drink, face scrunching from the burn of vodka. “What did you put in this?”

“Nothing much, just vodka and soda.”

Peter groaned, looking at the drink like it could kill. “How much exactly?”

Tony smiled, looking Peter up and down, “Did you get sexier since the last time we spoke?”

“In the few minutes I was on the phone? Absolutely.” Peter playfully retorted, returning the smile. “But no avoiding my questions. How much vodka, Tones?”

“Not that much,” Tony laughed, taking a large swig of his drink. “Just don’t drink it too fast, okay?”

Peter gave a light huff, “What about you? Two more of those and your cup will be empty!”

Tony scoffed, “I’m not a lightweight like you.”

Without warning, a water balloon exploded against the back of Tony’s head, covering his back in cold water that had him cringing. Peter erupted into laughter, matching the energies of Rhodey, Pepper, Bruce, and Happy, who had pails of water balloons filled to the brim, fully prepared for war. “That’s what you get for talking shit,” Peter joked.

Tony grinned, turning towards his friends with a fire in his eyes. “Now I’ve got to show these fuckers who’s boss.” He took another large swig of his drink and pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “Hold this for me, baby. I’ll be right back.”

Peter grabbed the cup, watching with a smile as Tony ran towards his friends. Seeing him like this was refreshing, like the stress of the previous week never reared its ugly head. In fact, just relaxing with friends without Quentin around had proven cathartic for them both. Peter spent his morning swimming with Ned and MJ while Tony helped Rhodey and Pepper make breakfast. The adrenaline of last night’s events had simmered and the vacation part of their vacation had truly set in.

Peter carried the two drinks up to the deck, where Bucky, Sam, and Steve were chatting and lounging on chairs. As he took a seat, he laughed at the excited way MJ and Ned prepped their buckets, readying themselves to join the water balloon fray. “You two don’t stand a chance out there in the trenches,” He joked.

“You just watch,” Ned exclaimed, dramatically thrusting a balloon into the air, “I will emerge victorious!”

MJ laughed, shaking her head as she kicked off her sandals. “You should join us, Pete. We can emerge victorious together.”

“No, thanks,” Peter smiled, placing the cups on the ground and slumping against the back of the chair. “But I wish you luck on your conquest.”

“To victory!” Ned yelled, running down to the beach with a water balloon poised to kill.

“Suit yourself, dude.” MJ grinned as she followed, beaming a water balloon from the top of the stairs to one of the unsuspecting teens below.

“Your friends are wild, Pete,” Sam said with a soft laugh. “But they’re alright.”

“Agreed, I really liked them,” Bucky nodded. “I liked Quentin too. Did he ever say why he had to leave?”

Peter shrugged, leaning to grab his cup and take a sip, feigning ignorance. “All he said was he had a family emergency.”

“Shame he had to go,” Steve said with a playful grin. “With all that flirting he was doing, you could’ve been just like me.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, “Like you?”

“He means having two smoking hot boyfriends,” Sam explained, gesturing to himself and Bucky.

“Oh!” Peter shook his head, a small pink tint flushing his cheeks. “It wasn’t like that with Quentin. We were just friends.”

“Were?” Bucky squinted.

“Are! Are.” Peter gave an awkward chuckle and sipped his drink. “Anyways, me and Tony are fine with just each other.”

“Yeah, you guys seemed fine the other night too,” Sam wiggled his brow. “Really fine.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Bucky gasped as he recalled what happened. “You two must have crazy sex.”

Those words made Peter’s small pink tint turn into a fully-fledged blush, “No, we actually haven’t…”

“You guys haven’t had sex?” Steve’s jaw dropped. “Really?”

“We’ve like...fooled around, but yeah, no sex...um- actually, we were supposed to during this break,” Peter admitted, taking another sip of his drink to quell his embarrassment.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Sam questioned.

“Nothing really,” Peter shrugged, glancing down at the beach and all the balloon carnage scattered across the sand. “We just haven’t had the time yet.”

“I think you guys should fuck tonight,” Bucky pointedly suggested. “You’ve got to seduce him, Peter.”

Peter scoffed. “I don’t have a single seducing bone in my body.”

“Drunk Peter had my dumbass fooled then,” Sam spoke under his breath, causing Steve and Bucky to giggle.

Peter gave an awkward laugh, “Can we please forget about that?”

“You sucked on his finger like it was his dick,” Bucky interjected.

Peter groaned, dropping his face into his palm. “Excuse me, I’m going to wither away now and transcend this plane of existence. Don’t wait up for me.”

“See ya,” Sam quipped.

Steve laughed, sitting up from his lounged position, “You don’t have to be embarrassed, Pete. There’s no judgment here.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, doll,” Bucky waved it off with a smile. “I’m sure, one of these days, you’ll catch us finger sucking too.”

“That’s comforting,” Peter rolled his eyes with a smile. “But okay, I’ll revert the withering process for now. Still, I don’t think I can channel drunk Peter on command.”

Sam nodded, reaching beside his chair to grab his own drink and holding it out, “Then, instead of channeling him, why don’t you just be him?”

“In moderation this time,” Bucky stressed, holding up his drink as well.

“To Peter getting fucked,” Steve offered a toast.

Peter giggled, holding his cup up to complete the cheers, “To getting fucked!”

~*13*~

Getting to this point was easy. After dinner and a bit more drinking, Ned roped everyone into a mini dance party with loud summer tunes and plenty of drinks. And something about the unintentional cardio mixed with the assortment of alcohol really made Peter’s haze set in. It was not nearly as strong as before – his motor functions were definitely intact – but that teeth-numbing warmth and indiscriminate confidence was alive and well. With all the sloppy dance moves, Peter could tell that everyone was somewhere on the drunk spectrum, even Tony, who was sporting tinted red cheeks and a very uncharacteristic smile as he moved to fall against the couch.

So, as he danced, Peter locked eyes with the seated bad boy, attempting to be seductive as he rocked his hips to the music as best he could. A little sway here, more hip in that move, add a bit of shoulder to that one; he was putting in a lot of effort. Yet, judging by the obvious snickering his boyfriend was doing, it probably wasn’t reading as sexy – he was trying his best, okay! He gave up, pouting as he rounded the couch, standing behind Tony and leaning in to whisper against his ear. “How dare you laugh at me. I was trying to seduce you.”

“Oh, really?” Tony snorted, leaning his head back against the couch. “I couldn’t tell.”

Peter blushed, lips still pursed in a pout, “Not even a little?”

Tony smiled, reaching his hand backward to pat his boyfriend’s hair. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“That’s good,” Peter whispered as he pressed a kiss against Tony’s cheek. “Did it turn you on?”

Tony inhaled sharp, “This definitely is.”

“Really?” Peter was surprised but moved to speckle more kisses against Tony’s cheek, jaw, and neck. “You like this?”

“Of course, baby,” Tony smirked, tilting his head to lock gazes with Peter. “I fucking love it when you touch me.”

A whine escaped Peter’s throat but, with his goal of seduction still at the forefront of his mind, he managed to contain his excitement. Instead, he leaned in, licking the space beneath Tony’s ear and whispering a fervid, “If you come to our room, I’ll touch you wherever you want.”

Tony didn’t need any more convincing.

They made their way to the bedroom, exchanging affectionate touches as they went. A hand on a hip, circling fingertips against exposed skin, the brush of an arm; innocent gestures that turned fiery the moment they stepped beyond the threshold and closed the door. Peter was the first to latch on, pulling Tony by the collar of his shirt into a messy kiss. One that tasted of vodka and smoke and, among the residual heat of dancing and arousal, it felt like a solar flare against his lips. He moaned into it, moving to jump up into his boyfriend’s arms.

Even in his buzz, Tony didn’t miss a beat. He caught Peter by the waist, stepping to press him against the wall but diverting towards the bed when Peter whined, a very needy, the bed, Tones, the bed. It was confident and sensual and made Tony hard enough to feel through his jeans.

And Peter could really feel it, especially against his own growing hardness as his boyfriend walked them across the room. He hummed pleasantly as he rutted against it, moving to trail kisses down Tony’s flushed neck, biting down against the skin of his collarbone and sucking to leave a deep red mark.

Tony inhaled through his teeth and groaned at the sensation, muscles flexing as he slowly lowered Peter against the duvet and climbed up between his legs. Then he smirked, staring down at his boyfriend with lust clouded eyes, “So we’re in a biting mood today, hm?” He whispered, leaning down to reciprocate the bite, leaving a mark of his own and enjoying the little whimper that spilled from Peter’s throat.

Peter busied his hands against his boyfriend’s toned stomach and in his wild hair, caressing toward the nape of his neck and around to the small of his back. He moaned, arousal flooding his core as Tony kissed his jaw and brought a hand up his shirt, rolling his fingertips against his nipple. It felt amazing, even more so when mixed with the heady feel of alcohol in his system. He found himself soaking in the closeness, lifting his hips for more and whining when the pleasure of the contact shot up his spine.

But then Tony’s hands snapped to Peter’s waist, pushing him back down against the mattress. “You’re so fucking eager,” He whispered, unable to hold back his pleased grin.

“It’s because I want you to fuck me,” Peter shot back, reaching to push Tony’s hand away and continue his impatient rutting.

“ What? ” Tony looked startled for a moment, then his expression turned pleased, then guilty, then worried. “Fuck, wait,” He shook his head, sitting back onto his knees and pushing down against Peter’s hips. “We can’t.”

Peter pouted, gently brushing his fingertips up Tony’s forearms. “Why not?”

Tony sighed, staring at Peter’s hands like they were torture devices. “You’re drunk, baby.”

“Am not,” Peter lied, putting on his best sober face. “I’m perfectly fine, so please,” He pleaded with a smile, moving to unbutton his shorts but pouting when Tony grabbed his hand to stop him. His expression fell into a frown, insecure feelings starting to surface in the form of anxious words, “Are you saying you don’t want to?”

“No, I do!” Tony said, his eyes glancing across Peter’s body. “I do. A lot ,” He took a deep breath, “You have no idea how much.”

“Then why?”

“Because I want you to be here when I fuck you.”

Peter rolled his eyes, shifting to prop himself up on his elbows. “I am here, Tones.”

“Not completely,” Tony shook his head. “I want to see the face you make around my dick when you’re sober.”

“Me too,” Peter whispered.

Tony let out a light huff, raising his brow, “You too?”

“No, I meant-” Peter blushed, averting his eyes, “That I want to w-watch you get off inside me.”

“Yeah?” Tony’s voice cracked a little, Peter’s words hitting him like a gunshot to his sanity. He inhaled slow, his gaze momentarily turning indulgent, “What else do you want, sweetheart?”

Peter bit his lip, nervously staring up at his boyfriend and whispering, “F-For you to- um... choke me.”

Tony grinned, leaning forward and ghosting his hand against Peter’s throat before pulling it away, “What else?”

“I want you to be r-rough,” Peter mumbled. “And um- use me... however you want because… I really just want to be good for you.”

Tony inhaled through his teeth, shifting to adjust himself through his jeans, “You are not making this easy for me, baby.”

Peter quietly gasped, “That too, that’s- I want you to call me baby,” He admitted, his face cast in a red hue. “Or baby boy. I like that more, but not all the time, just sometimes, like when we’re alone.”

“Okay, noted, I’ll be sure to tick these boxes later,” Tony smirked, “Anything else?”

“I don’t know,” Peter whispered, slumping back against the bed. “You’re going to think it’s stupid.”

Tony shook his head, “I doubt that.”

“It is!” Peter closed his eyes, looking more embarrassed by the second. “It’s a bunch of stupid first time stuff that’s completely unnecessary because this shouldn’t be such a big deal.”

“Come on, just tell me,” Tony gently urged. “Let me decide if it’s unnecessary.”

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Promise.”

Peter paused, covering his face with his hands and taking a deep breath. “I want-” He slid his hands away, revealing his expression, earnest and vulnerable, “I want you to say you love me.”

Tony froze, his jaw all but falling to the center of the earth as he was absolutely floored by Peter’s words. Moments of silence passed and then some more, where Tony just stared, gazed, focused solely on the boy in front of him, seemingly trying to find his words.

But Peter couldn’t take the silence, so he gave an awkward laugh, “N-Nevermind, you’re right, I’m drunk, ignore me, I’m being stupid, I’ll just go to sleep now.” He shifted away from Tony, moving to hide beneath the covers, fully prepared to wallow in his embarrassment.

But then Tony laid down beside him, pulling Peter’s covered body against his, whispering a comforting, “That’s not stupid, Peter.”

~*14*~

Spring break ended after a night of fireworks and group photos on the beach. The following morning brought a group effort clean-up, promises of summertime get-togethers, and friendly number exchanges. Packing the cars turned into hugs and ‘ see you later ’s, which turned into their long drive home. The trip ended perfectly but, as he watched the coast disappear behind them, Peter couldn’t help but feel sad. He already missed the early morning swims, the hilarious conversations around the fire pit, and the drunken late-night antics. As he settled into his sadness, a notification from Ned popped up on his phone: New Group Chat Invite from ‘Petey’s Mutuals .’ The name alone was enough to turn his mood around. He immediately dropped a laughing emoji in the chat, smiling at the flood of memes.

“Who’s blowing up your phone? Auntie?” Tony asked, his eyes trained on the road ahead.

“No, Ned made a group chat with everyone,” Peter giggled and reached for Tony’s phone, “You got an invite too. Want me to accept it?”

“Sure, if you want, but you know I’m going to mute it later,” Tony quipped.

Peter rolled his eyes with a smile, “I know but they’re asking for you. You’ve already been dubbed Petey’s number one mutual.”

“Petey?” Tony repeated with a smirk.

Peter laughed, “I don’t make the rules.”

The remainder of the drive was peaceful, filled with an atmosphere of playful banter and spontaneous jam sessions as the greens of the coast turned into the greys of the city. As the fresh air became stagnant and the windows were closed to give rise to the open vents, their laughter became crisper, easier to hear without the rush of outside sounds. The sun was beginning to set as they turned onto Peter’s street. It was there that their pleasant moment faltered.

Standing in front of Peter’s building, like some kind of treacherous final boss, was Howard Stark, with his sleeves cuffed to his elbows, a sway in his posture, and a five o’clock shadow. He looked furious and a bit drunk, evident in the way his car sat askew against the curb.

“What the fuck?” Tony whispered under his breath as he parked his car across the street. “Why is he here?” He stressed, pulling the keys from the ignition and dropping his head against the steering wheel.

“Don’t worry, we’re in public, he can’t do anything,” Peter assured as he pulled out his phone, quickly texting his aunt before placing his hand in Tony’s. “We don’t have to get out of the car if you don’t want to.”

“He’s been drinking, Peter,” Tony sighed, lifting his head to reveal his conflicted expression. “I don’t think being in public is going to stop him.”

Peter brought Tony’s hand up and pressed a kiss against his knuckles, “I’ll go and tell him to leave.”

And before Tony could protest, Peter was outside the car, bravely crossing the street and calmly approaching the apartment building. The slam of the car door let him know Tony was behind him but he didn’t glance back. He kept his eyes trained forward, locked on target, “Why are you here?” He asked, knowing the answer but starting there anyway.

“You!” Howard yelled, reaching forward and yanking Peter by his collar. “What the fuck did you do you little shit?”

In a breath, Tony was there, warily stepping between them and trying to pull Peter out of Howard’s grasp. The defiance angered his father and, just like before, the moment was fast. A hand was raised and swinging, aimed for Tony’s face. The only difference was, this time, Peter didn’t freeze. He held out his arm, using it to shield his boyfriend from the abuse. This time Peter was not paralyzed by his fear, he was motivated by it.

As his hand landed against Peter’s arm, Howard seethed, preparing for another swing, “You fucking-!”

“I see you got our email,” Peter interrupted, smirking despite the pain throbbing in his arm.

“Email?” Tony repeated, distracted by the sight of his usually skittish boyfriend standing up to his abusive father.

Howard’s eyes went wide, instinctively reaching to grab Peter again but stopping when the young boy spoke. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Peter warned. “Don’t forget that we’re in public and it’ll only help our case.”

Howard hesitated, glancing down the sidewalks, reluctantly stepping backward as his eyes met pedestrians. “How did you do it?” He fumed, the scent of alcohol billowing off his breath, “How did you break my encryption?”

“I didn’t,” Peter snorted. “Tony did.”

Howard’s attention shifted, zeroing in on his son with a vehement rage. “You gave this slut access to our company!” He screamed, “Do you even know what you’ve done? Did I not teach you better than this?” And, without warning, he grabbed Tony by his upper arm, “You goddamn waste of space!”

Peter clenched his teeth and, much like his boyfriend had just done for him, he shoved himself between them, trying to pull Tony out of Howard’s grasp. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself!” He snapped, surprising even himself with the outburst but having no time to process it before Howard’s hand was locked in his hair, harshly yanking his head forward.

“What the fuck did you just say, you little shit?!” Howard seethed, ignoring the glances from passing bystanders and, when his son flinched to stop his violence, he yelled an imposing and threatening, “Don’t even think about it, Anthony!”

Peter hissed at the pull, hands shooting up, struggling to get free. The pain was sharp on his scalp and, for a moment, he wanted to call out to Tony. Call out to be protected; to be saved. He wanted to rely on him but, with one glance at his boyfriend’s terrified face, he knew he couldn’t.

Because Tony was relying on him this time.

“You’re dumber than you look,” Peter spoke, laughing through his pain. “We were going to keep this quiet in civil court but you seem so determined to let everyone know what an abusive asshole you are.”

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Howard retorted, yanking Peter up to face him. “You have no idea who you’re making an enemy of!”

“A businessman.”

“What?”

“I’m making an enemy of a businessman,” Peter repeated, his eyes stinging from the pain but his expression remaining calm. “I’m not an idiot. A rich person like you doesn’t fear court or prison or lawyer fees. You don’t care about anything but your bottom-line and keeping your company out of a scandal.” His brow furrowed then, “So I suggest you let me go before I circulate the files online and burn your precious company to the ground.” Peter’s words were venomous and deathly serious, enough to convince Howard Stark into releasing his hold.

“Anthony, what have you done?” Howard turned his attention to his son, “Son, they want to take you away from me. They’re blackmailing me in court. Do you know that?”

“I-” Tony was frozen, struggling to find his words, his hands trembling, “I’m-”

Peter’s face softened as he stepped beside his boyfriend, gently interlocking his steady hand with Tony’s shaking one.

“Is that what you want? Stark Industries is yours too, son,” Howard continued. “You’ll inherit billions. They’re trying to take that away from you.” Then he pointed to Peter. “He’s trying to take that away from you. Don’t let this one mistake ruin your whole life.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Tony finally spoke, his voice cracking as tears started escaping down the contours of his face. “I don’t give a shit about the company. You do! That’s the only fucking thing you care about! So stop pretending you care about what I want! All you do is control my life and beat the shit out of me!”

“I do that out of love, Anth-! Tony , you’ll be the perfect successor. You’re brilliant, son. You got through my encryption. You’ll take Stark Industries so far if you would just listen to me ! All you need is a little tough love to keep you in line. Keep you away from mistakes like him. I’m guiding you-!”

“You’re abusing me!” Tony yelled, “Just like you abused mom and chased her away!”

“I did not abuse that bitch!” Howard shot back. “She left! That’s on her!”

Tony inhaled through his teeth, averting his gaze to the ground, “I want them to take me away from you.” He looked up, his eyes red from all the tears but his voice clearer than ever. “Fuck you. Fuck the company. Fuck that fucking house and fuck your dirty money.” He gently squeezed Peter’s hand as he continued. “You always say I’m just like mom, so I’m leaving too.”

“No,” Howard’s voice was taut, “Listen to what you’re saying, son! You’re giving up everything, and for what?” He questioned, gesturing to Peter and the old apartment building. “This?”

“Yeah,” Tony nodded, stealing a glance at Peter, “For this.”

“You fucking useless child! You need me!” Howard screamed.

And he would have continued too, if it weren’t for the flashes of red and blue and the sirens rounding the street corner.

“Boys!” It was Aunt May, hurrying down the apartment’s front steps with her hands outstretched, beckoning for Tony and Peter. “Boys, come on inside!”

~*15*~

“Why on earth do you have so many boxes of clothes?” Peter promptly complained as he opened yet another box filled to the brim and labeled Tony’s Closet . “And I swear it’s all the same black shirt!”

“It is not,” Tony laughed as he worked at unpacking a box into his nightstand. “I have at least one white shirt in there.”

“And this!” Peter stepped out of the closet, donning Tony’s cap and gown from graduation. “You looked so cool walking across the stage, getting your diploma—”

Tony snorted, “I got the folder for the diploma.”

“— and, after summer school, you’ll look so cool getting your diploma in the mail.” Peter corrected, smiling as he slid the gown off and started to fold it. “The school was not so lenient about Tony – puts the T in Truancy – Stark, huh?”

“Yeah, turns out you actually have to go to class to graduate, who would’ve thought?” Tony jested, pausing as he pulled a picture frame from his box. For a moment, he stared at the photo, distress clouding his previously content expression, but then he dropped it back into the box, sighing before picking it up again.

“What’s that?” Peter asked as he walked over, kneeling down to get a better look.

Tony shrugged, “A picture of that painting from my old man’s place.”

“You have a copy of it.” It was more of a statement than a question. Still, Peter was stunned that Tony would hold onto it after everything that’s happened.

“Yeah,” Tony sighed again as he placed it back into the box. “But I don’t even know why. I just...”

“You just?”

“I just feel weird being in a place by myself, I guess, and it’s the only thing I have with the three of us together,” Tony sighed, shaking his head. “It’s fucking stupid, I know. He’s in it so I don’t want to put it up but she’s in it so I don’t want to get rid of it.”

Peter smiled, leaning to press a kiss against Tony’s forehead. “Then, while you decide what to do, I’ll get some pictures of us that you can put up.”

Tony smirked, deciding to leave the picture in the box for now. “Can I have that one in your living room of you at the science fair? You know, the one with your hair sticking up?”

“Absolutely not,” Peter laughed, playfully pushing against Tony’s shoulder. “That one of us during spring break is still in the group chat though.” He mentioned, returning to finish unpacking the closet. “I’ll print it out and frame it for you, okay?”

“Thanks, baby,” Tony happily responded, then his voice dropped low and uncertain. “Do you think I should bring up the picture thing next time?”

“Next time?” Peter asked but quickly realized what was meant. “Oh, for your next session? That’s up to you. If you want to talk about it, then go for it. That’s what they’re for.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “You’re right.”

Since spring break ended, a lot has happened. Tony’s dad agreed to let him move out, especially with the looming threat of a child abuse scandal above his head. More litigation was scheduled but they recently got the restraining order approved, which Aunt May called a ginormous win against that battalion of corporate lawyer dickheads .

In the meantime, May let Tony stay in their apartment. Though, despite Peter’s promises to keep his door open at night, May refused to let Tony sleep in his room. So for the next couple of months, Tony slept on the couch, and ate dinner with a smile, and watched movies that made him laugh. He sang rock ‘n’ roll when he washed dishes with May and flirted when he helped Peter carry baskets of clothes to the laundry room. His toughest days were his therapy days, when he would come back emotionally drained and tired, but even on days like that, he still managed to smile.

After graduation, Tony surprised everyone with the announcement of his new start-up business. It was a tech company of his very own, built from his progress with Jarvis and his endless technological imagination. One good payday turned into two and soon, he was even making enough to put himself through university. May suggested MIT but Tony said he would see how he felt after summer school ended.

Moving into his own place was Tony’s next big step. Aunt May demanded that he buy the studio apartment down the hall because no eighteen year old should be all on his own, young man . All in all, things were going well and they only seemed to be getting better.

“Hey, Tones, what’s this?” Peter stepped out of the closet, holding up a brown leather jacket that seemed much too small for his boyfriend’s body. “Is this an old jacket? From before you fell into your all-black-everything phase?”

Tony laughed, shaking his head, “No, that’s actually for you.”

“What? For me?” Peter’s eyes widened as he stared at the jacket, his fingers grazing the high-quality fabric. “But why? What for?”

“Our six month anniversary extravaganza,” Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t get a chance to give it to you then and, now, I guess the surprise is ruined.”

“I’m surprised,” Peter smiled as he threw on the jacket. “It’s a perfect fit.”

“Happy eight and a half months, baby.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Peter grinned, biting at his lip before he spoke. “After we’re finished unpacking, how about I give you your gift too?”

“My gift…?” Tony squinted but then his eyes went wide. “Really? Today? Like today today?”

Peter giggled, “I mean, I’ll have to take a shower first, but yeah.”

“Let’s fucking hurry up then,” Tony joked, making a show of his rush to unpack.

After another hour of diligent work, every box was emptied and every piece of clothing was folded and put away. Posters were hung, and kitchen cabinets were filled, and the couch was angled perfectly in front of the TV. They even carried the boxes down to the recycling bins. Everything was perfect and, when there was nothing more to do, they glanced at each other with blushing faces and simultaneous offers of you can shower first. Then awkward laughter as they corrected with a You can go ahead. No, you can, baby. Are you sure, Tones? Yeah.

It was an exchange that left Peter laying in the middle of Tony’s bed, fresh from his shower and wearing nothing but a black t-shirt from his boyfriend’s closet. Waiting anxiously as he listened to the sounds of the shower water and the hum of evening traffic pouring from the window. Scents from the soaps he had used and the lingering smoke from Tony’s ashtray wafted in the air and filled his nostrils. The only light came from a small nightstand lamp that left the room basked in a dim hue.

Peter’s heart was racing from thoughts of what was to come and it only quickened as the water shut off. He jolted up, sitting with his calves tucked beneath his thighs, tugging at the shirt’s hem as he stared at the bathroom door. A few more minutes ticked by – where he listened to the sounds of towel drying and moisturizer bottles and toothbrushing – before the doorknob turned and his boyfriend emerged, drying his hair and wearing nothing but boxers.

Tony took a few steps before glancing up from beneath the towel, smiling when he laid eyes on Peter, “That’s a good look on you, baby.”

Peter blushed, tucking a stray curl behind his ear, “It’ll look better off of me.”

Tony gave a light laugh as he tossed the towel against the back of his desk chair, his hair unruly and damp as he made his way to the bed. “I don’t doubt that,” He said as he climbed up onto the sheets, moving to sit cross-legged in front of his boyfriend, putting their bodies only inches apart. “Hey,” He whispered, reaching to clasp their hands together. “You’re sure about this, right? You know I don’t mind waiting for you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Peter smiled, idly caressing his thumb against the back of Tony’s hand. Fresh shampoo scents filled his nose as he scooted closer – close enough to feel the warmth of Tony’s legs against his. “Are you?”

“Fuck yeah,” Tony grinned, lifting Peter’s hand to his chest so he could feel how fast his heart was beating. “I’ve never been more excited to fuck someone, can’t you tell?”

Peter giggled, rolling his eyes with a smile, “No way that’s true.”

“Of course it’s true,” Tony assured, smiling as he reached upward to place a gentle hand against the younger boy’s cheek, thumbing at his jawline and the underside of his chin and against the front of his throat. “You’re the first to make me so fucking nervous.”

“Good,” Peter let out a light huff, grinning, “At least we’re both on the same page.”

For a moment, Tony laughed – and Peter joined, the sound of their laughter blending together in the modest space – but then he was silent. His eyes flickering between Peter’s big brown eyes and soft inviting lips, his breath going a bit shallow as he leaned forward and his eyes fell closed.

And Peter met Tony halfway, capturing his lips, which tasted of spearmint toothpaste, in a tender kiss. One that morphed into an innocent flurry of pecks that he smiled into and took his time with. Only deepening when hands traveled to bodies and lips began to part and Tony’s grip at Peter’s sides pulled him onto his lap. And Peter dragged his hands through his boyfriend’s still damp locks, not caring about the moisture that clung to his palms as he draped his arms over Tony’s shoulders and pressed their bodies even closer.

The brush of their arousals sent a spark of pleasure to Peter’s core, reminding him of just how exposed he was. Spreading his legs caused the t-shirt to hike up, so the only thing that separated his hardness from his boyfriend’s was a thin layer of cotton boxer fabric. The friction left him whining into the kiss. The right angles had his lips stalling like the sensation threw his mind off balance and the wrong ones had his hips grinding to chase what felt so right.

Tony gripped the underside of Peter’s thighs, skimming his fingers against sensitive skin and stopping to cup his ass, pulling his body closer to incite more of that sweet friction. Then, he broke their kiss, opting to bite the younger’s bottom lip before pulling away with a smug grin, “Getting off just on this, sweetheart?”

Peter’s face flushed but he breathed a playful, “No, not at all.” Confidence was abundant in his tone but his lie was so evident in the way he continued moving his hips and showed no hesitation in letting his little moans free.

“Oh, and if I do this?” Tony asked, moving one hand to Peter’s erection, squeezing ever-so-slightly and stroking slowly from base to tip.

The sudden touch brought a breathless moan and a raspy Tony to Peter’s lips. His body tensed and his head lolled backward as the buzz of stimulation brought a bead of pre to the tip of his erection. And when Tony did it again, Peter started stammering, “I-I’ll c-come, T-Tony, I-”

“I know, baby,” Tony whispered, halting his movements to wait for Peter to calm down. “But you know better than that, right?” He grinned, a smug grin that made Peter’s already flushed face go a deeper shade of red.

“Yes,” Peter whimpered, excited by the way his boyfriend was talking to him. He liked this part of Tony – the part that was in control and confident.

“Then say it,” Tony demanded as he thumbed slowly at the head of Peter’s length.

“I-” Peter groaned, his nails digging into Tony’s shoulder blades as he fought against the urge of release. “I d-don’t come unless you say so.”

“That’s right,” Tony smiled as he went back to stroking. Watching as Peter got dangerously close to the edge and then abruptly slowing down just before the younger boy had a chance to lose it. And then he would do it again, and again he would watch his boyfriend’s wanton reactions; the sweet shaky breaths, the whole body flinches, the high-pitched moans.

Soon, Peter was sweating, skin glistening in the low light as he was mercilessly teased and edged. It was torturous but it was nice; after all, this was something they had done before. The familiar territory helped him relax, helped him cast off the anxiety and the unease, helped him to be confident and stay in the moment. Helped him find the courage to steer them towards the next step.

“Tony, I want you inside of me,” Peter moaned against his boyfriend’s ear, adding a breathy please because his body urged him to.

And Tony’s muscles tensed and his breath hitched and his eyes near dilated at the sound of his boyfriend pleading for him. "Okay," He nodded and tugged at the t-shirt. "Then take this off for me," He instructed as he halted his hands and shifted off of the bed, moving to grab a bottle and two condoms from his dresser drawer.

As Peter pulled off the t-shirt and realized what the bottle was, he blushed. He found himself embarrassed that he didn't have his own – especially when he was the one asking for his boyfriend to be inside him – and he also wondered how Tony remained so unfazed when he carried those things to the bed.

Peter wanted to ask but he was already being pushed down against the pillows and sheets, his mouth once again being overtaken by his boyfriend’s lips. This kiss was more carnal than the last, a mix of swirling tongues and an urgency akin to hunger.

Tony hovered downward then, trailing sloppy kisses against the younger's now bare chest, taking a moment to lick circles against each of his nipples before continuing south. Peppering more wet kisses across Peter's abdomen and, when he reached his waist, he licked his way down Peter's length, savoring the startled moan that ripped itself from the younger's throat. He smiled as he spread his boyfriend's legs and went even further, kissing beyond the base of his twitching erection, all the way to his untouched hole.

Peter could feel the heat burning in his face and he would be lying if he said he wasn't a little nervous, especially when Tony kissed him there . “Tony?” His voice cracked.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you tell me- um ...what you’re going to do?”

Tony blushed at that, pausing his kisses and sitting up on his knees. One hand keeping Peter's legs splayed open and the other reaching for the bottle. “I’m- uh… I’m going to finger you with this first,” He explained, the redness in his cheeks still visible as he popped the cap open. “I'm going to use a lot, so I don't hurt you too much." He brushed his fingers against Peter's entrance, "You’ve never touched here, right?”

“Never,” Peter admitted, his heart thrumming as he watched Tony coat two of his fingers with lube.

“So it’ll probably hurt a little but I’ll be careful, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter breathed, eyes squeezing shut as he felt the cold slick push against him. He held his breath and, with a little more pressure, a single finger was pressing into him, sliding into his tightness with little resistance.

“How’s this?” Tony whispered, eyes frantically searching Peter's expression for any signs of pain.

Peter exhaled slow, checking in with himself as he did. It didn't feel good or bad, just foreign and unusual. He opened his eyes, gazing up at his boyfriend and speaking an honest, “Uncomfortable.”

“Should I keep going?”

“ Mhmm ,” Peter nodded, giving Tony the go-ahead to continue.

So Tony pushed his finger deeper before pulling out slow, then he repeated, keeping his motions steady and smooth and careful. For the most part, Peter was silent, save for the small whines that escaped on the tops of his heavier breaths. In the lack of stimulation, his erection had started to soften but he was still very much aroused. The feeling of Tony's eyes on him was enough, especially when he was staring like Peter was the only thing in the world worth looking at. And between the sultry gaze and the gentle finger fucking, Peter's arousal was burning hot. It's not that bad , he thought, but the addition of another finger had him wincing.

“Wait-! Tones,” Peter flinched, reactively tensing at the pain of being stretched but fighting against the impulse when the tension only made it hurt more. “I-It hurts.”

“Okay, okay,” Tony eased, stopping his motions but keeping his two fingers halfway inside. “Is this fine?”

“Yes,” Peter’s breath was sharp on the inhale and shaky on the exhale. “J-Just don’t move.” He instructed as he forced his body to relax. The pain was not unbearable but, as a couple of minutes ticked by, the panicked thoughts swarming his mind started to be. Why do two fingers hurt like this? How am I going to fit more? Is Tony getting impatient? Is he bored with me? Is this supposed to feel good? Is something wrong with me? Peter shook his head, whispering a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” Tony immediately retorted. “If it hurts, it hurts.”

“I know but I-” Peter struggled on his words, trying to ignore his insecurities. “I just really want to make you feel good.”

“You are,” Tony leaned down, smirking as he pressed a kiss against Peter’s lips, pulling away just enough that the tips of their noses barely brushed together. “I could come just from watching you.”

“ Tones ,” Peter whined, averting his eyes, trying to hide his flushed face. “I’m serious.”

“I know but just don’t worry about me right now,” Tony asserted as he sat back up, careful to keep his fingers still. “We’re on your time, sweetheart. Take as long as you want.”

Peter locked eyes with Tony’s patient ones, feeling his anxiety ease as he did. The older boy really was just waiting, one hand gently massaging the sensitive skin of Peter’s inner thigh and the other exactly where he was told to leave it. Peter took a deep breath, actively convincing his muscles to relax and realizing that the pain was absent when he remained calm. So he breathed a quiet, “You can move them.”

And Tony nodded, wordlessly moving to squeeze more lube at Peter’s entrance before pushing his fingers in the rest of the way. Falling into the same steady pattern as before, attentively watching as Peter relaxed around the gentle finger fucking. And once Peter felt loose enough, Tony added more lube and another finger. This time, it was a painless stretch.

“Baby, you look so fucking gorgeous right now,” Tony praised as his eyes glanced across Peter’s pliant body. “You’re doing so good, you're taking my fingers so good.”

Peter’s entire body reacted to Tony’s words – even his waning erection twitched at the sound of them. “It’s for you,” Peter breathed out, his voice low and airy.

“Hm?” Tony asked, his brow slightly furrowing.

“I’m doing good for you, Tony.”

“Fuck, sweetheart, you can’t talk to me like that. It’s gonna go to my head, make me lose my patience.” Tony gave a sly smile as he started curling his fingers, slowly prodding upward, searching and seeking, like he was trying to find something and – fuck.

An unexpected jolt of pleasure hit Peter so hard that, as he moaned, his voice cracked and the sound he made came out like a strangled whimper. The intensity of the feeling left him dazed, unable to process just how good it felt because Tony’s fingers were suddenly colliding with that spot again. It was almost overwhelming; a pleasure that operated somewhere between his typical orgasms and some fictional unattainable euphoria. Yet, judging by the way his hands clawed into the sheets, and the way his back arched, and the way he couldn’t exhale without a whine, this pleasure trended towards the latter.

Tony playfully grinned, unrelenting in his assault on Peter’s sensitive bundle of nerves. “Is it good, baby?” He asked as he upped the ante, bringing his free hand to stroke along his boyfriend’s stiffening length.

“ Tony !” Peter’s hands shot down, clutching at Tony’s wrist, urgently pulling his hand away from his erection. “W-Wait, I’ll come-!”

“That wasn’t an answer, sweetheart.” Tony clutched the base of Peter’s dripping length and massaged his thumb across the wet tip, syncing his teasing with each thrust of his fingers.

Peter released a gasp that quickly morphed into a harsh moan. The heady feeling left him frantically squirming backward, trying to evade the fervent pleasure but finding himself propped up on the pillows, trapped between the headboard and his boyfriend’s torturous hands. “It’s good!” He choked out, all teary-eyed and desperate. “Tony, I- ah! Can I c-?”

“I want you to beg for more,” Tony interrupted, slowing his hands before pulling away entirely, watching with a smirk when Peter’s hips flinched to chase the contact. “Will you do that for me, baby boy?” He asked as he leaned forward, holding himself steady with one hand and placing the other against his boyfriend’s throat, squeezing just enough to make his breaths come out shallow. “Will you beg me to fuck you?”

And Peter, whose eyes were blown from the stagnant bliss, immediately did what was asked of him. “ Please .” His voice came out slightly hoarse, strained by the pressure against his neck. “Please fuck me.” He begged, keeping his eyes trained on his boyfriend’s face. “I-I want it...your dick...inside me, please .”

“Fuck, I want to fucking ruin you,” Tony whispered, using his grip on Peter’s neck to guide him into a harsh kiss before pulling away and releasing his hand. “And I don’t think you understand how much.” Then he took a deep breath and smiled. “You’re such a good boy for me, Peter.”

Peter’s heart was racing and his face was warm and his erection was aching; Tony just had that effect on him, especially when he spoke like that. “Tones, please …” He whined, eager and pouty, like he couldn’t wait another second.

Tony laughed low, excitedly moving to pull off his boxers before returning to his place between Peter’s legs.

And just like the first time he’d seen it, Peter had to actively prevent his jaw from dropping. Tony’s dick was big, thick, hard – basically everything Peter wanted when it was being shoved down his throat. This, however, was much different. A shiver ran through his body at the thought of it in his ass. “Is it going to hurt?” He asked on impulse.

“Maybe a little.” Tony was honest. “I stretched you a lot but it could still be uncomfortable,” He explained as he rolled on a condom and slicked on some extra lube. “But I’ll be gentle,” He said as he positioned himself at Peter’s entrance. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

With a small push, the tip slid right in, popping inside without resistance like Peter’s body had been used to it forever. The feeling was hot and tingly, but Peter remained calm, attempting to keep his muscles from going rigid as Tony kept going. Halfway in was more of the same but beyond that was an uncomfortable pain. Not a sharp or stinging kind of pain, but a dull and throbbing one that left Peter flinching and sucking air through teeth.

“You okay?” Tony asked as he stopped his advances, dragging a tender hand through Peter’s hair. “Is this too much?”

“No,” Peter shook his head, reaching to hold Tony’s hand. “Don’t stop, keep going, I can take it.”

Tony’s breath hitched, his resolve to be gentle faltering under the weight of Peter’s tempting words. “You want the rest of it, baby?” He asked, squeezing Peter’s hand before he pulled away, hooking his arms beneath Peter’s thighs and gripping at his waist.

“Yes,” Peter murmured, moving to clutch at the pillow above his head, bracing himself.

So Tony pushed forward again, quicker than before, plunging deep enough to rip a loud groan from the younger boy. And then he held himself there, indulging in the pleasure of his boyfriend’s tightness, his voice strained, “How’s this?”

Peter felt like the wind was knocked out of him. The swift thrust left him tremoring around the thickness, panting like Tony’s dick had stolen his oxygen and replaced it with the strangest blend of pleasurable pain. The drag of the shaft against that bundle of nerves was what did it; he was sure, especially when Tony moved to pull out and the sensation was enough to make him feel like he was going to come. “I l-like it, Tones. It feels g-”

Peter couldn’t finish his sentence as Tony started pushing back inside. The thrust was just as fast as before, leveraged by his tugging at the younger’s waist and fueled by the ecstasy buzzing within them both. So Tony repeated his thrusts in quick succession, pulling out halfway before rolling his hips and burying himself back inside, occasionally pulling out until just the tip remained so Peter could catch his breath.

And Peter could tell with one glance that Tony was melting in the sensation; his eyes were half-lidded, his hands were gripping bruises, his forehead was beading sweat. The way his body flexed was pornographic, making Peter’s already stiffened length even stiffer, and the force of his motions was eager, overexcited, indulgent. Yet, none of that could compare to the sounds he was making. Peter had never heard Tony moan like this; so unbridled and honest. It left him leaking pre all over his stomach.

But Peter couldn’t come – not because Tony had not given permission, but because he couldn’t. The pleasure was there but orgasm still felt far away, like all he needed was just a little more. Just a little .

“Hey!” Tony grabbed Peter’s wrists, yanking them above his head and pinning them there with a single hand. “Who said you could touch yourself, hm?”

Fuck. Peter was so wrapped up in the feel of it all that he didn’t realize his hands had started moving toward his erection. “S-Sorry, I just...it wasn’t enough.” He blushed, his heart racing at his boyfriend’s strength.

“What?” Tony gave a mischievous grin, shifting his weight against Peter’s crossed wrists and bringing his free hand to Peter’s throat. “You want more?” He asked as he squeezed, laughing low when Peter gasped. “I’m not going to be gentle anymore, Peter,” He whispered, “Let me know if I should stop and I will.”

And when Peter nodded, Tony let loose. Keeping his grip at Peter’s throat steady as he slammed all the way to the base, pulling out almost entirely before driving back in. Besides the amount of force, Peter thought it would feel the same. He was wrong . So fucking wrong. This pleasure was different – different enough to leave Peter screaming – and the only changed variable was the angle. Tony wasn’t just rubbing against his prostate anymore, he was practically brutalizing it. Each thrust hitting it so directly Peter wondered if pleasure was even the right word anymore because, for him, it felt euphoric.

“This enough for you, baby boy?” Tony teased, loosening his grip on the younger’s neck as he continued his fervid assault.

Peter wanted to be playful, challenging, witty, but the only words he could manage were coated in a desperate need for release. “ Yes , T-Tony, can I- please, can I come? P-Please, please .”

“Sure, sweetheart,” Tony finally gave in, releasing Peter’s wrists and using his hand to stroke at the neglected cock. “Since you asked so nicely,” He rubbed his thumb against the head, keeping his thrusts steady. “You can come.”

And Peter did. He came harder than he ever has. All shaking and screaming and teary-eyed as his cock pulsated, shooting thick lines of cum against his stomach and twitching when Tony milked out the rest. The aftershock had him dazed and sensitive, even Tony’s touch burned with an agonizing bliss. All he could do was lay there, trembling around Tony’s dick, which remained buried deep inside of him.

“Look at you,” Tony breathed out, grinning sly as he smeared his hand through the cum. “You think we’re done?” He shook his head, bringing his wet hand against Peter’s face and rubbing it across his cheek and lips. “All that talk about wanting me to feel good, but here you are, looking fucked stupid.”

“I’m not done,” Peter exhaled, tongue darting out to lick the mess on his lips, challenging his boyfriend despite his body urging him to reject more pleasure. “We stop when you say stop.”

“Big talk,” Tony gave a light laugh and then, without warning, he lifted Peter by the waist and flipped them over. “Let’s see you back it up,” He said as he ran his fingers up the younger’s thighs. “Ride me.”

When Peter felt the gravity keeping Tony’s dick buried inside, his body screamed with overstimulation and, judging by the smug grin plastered across his boyfriend’s face, it must have shown. He didn’t care. Instead, with the goal of making Tony come at the forefront of his mind, he pressed his hands against the older’s chest, lifted his hips halfway up, and dropped them back down.

“ Fuck ,” Peter muttered under his breath, wincing from the overwhelming spark of pleasure. “Like this, Tones?” He whined as he repeated his motion, moaning and letting his hips fall into a rhythm.

“Yeah,” Tony groaned out as he skimmed his fingers to the sides of Peter’s thighs, which would tremble after each drop. “Just like that,” He assured, his eyes flickering between Peter’s lust drunk face and his diligently working hips. “Tell me how you feel, baby boy.”

It wasn’t a question – Peter knew that – but his focus was on keeping stable, fighting through the sting of breathtaking stimulation as he vigorously bounced his hips. So, instead of obeying, he took a page out of his boyfriend’s book and talked.

“Are you going to come inside me, Tones? Are you going to give it to me? Fuck, I want it so bad. I want your cum, Tony. You feel so fucking perfect. You stretched me so well. Look how good I fit around you now.” He managed to say it all confidently, despite his slightly ragged voice.

And it paid off because, soon after, Tony was coming. Peter could feel the warmth of his climax filling the condom inside. It was a strange but gratifying feeling, only improved by Tony’s blissed out expression.

Peter carefully lifted himself off and collapsed against the sheets. He was covered in a sheen of sweat and panting. The aftermath of his orgasm still imprinted on his senses. His body felt floaty and, if he even thought about the pleasure he had experienced, a wave of chills would quake through his body like a visceral reaction to being so utterly pleased. “Is it always like that?”

Tony breathed a short laugh, looking just as wrecked as his boyfriend. “Fuck. I hope so.”

Peter giggled as he scooted closer, draping his arm across the older’s torso, “So you liked it?”

“Yes,” Tony answered without hesitation. “Holy shit, baby, of course, I did.” He stressed as he eased into the cuddling, wrapping his arms around Peter’s waist. “Did you?”

“Yes!” Peter exclaimed but quickly lowered his tone, blushing at his overexcitement. “It was good. Really good. You’re really good. Like almost too good.”

Tony snickered, “I’m glad, especially since I ticked every box but the one.”

“What?” Peter was confused and then he wasn’t as he remembered his drunken list of wants. “Oh. Oh! ” His blush deepened as he nervously shook his head. “You don’t have to check that box if you don’t want to. We have plenty of time to say it later. Honestly, it’s okay.”

“But I want to and you deserve it,” Tony whispered. “Because you mean everything to me, Peter.”

Peter was stunned by his boyfriend’s candid words and his heart pounded in his ears as he responded with a quiet, “I do?”

And Tony just nodded and leaned in for a kiss, pouring his emotions into the gentle contact and, as he pulled away, he whispered it . So perfect and meaningful that Peter almost burst into tears as he shakily reciprocated. The soft laughter that followed kept him grounded as Tony said it again and again and again. The moment was special. Precious.

And it was theirs, and theirs alone.

#starker #peter parker x tony stark #badboy!tony au #nff #obligatorywrites

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is0gild · 4 years

Text

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 18

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 7,733

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

"Oh dear god, the rumors are actually true."

I blinked over at Frozone. "What rumors?" I asked as I bent forward over the countertop towards the little girl with short black hair tied up in adorable pigtails, handing her an ice cream cone that was almost as big as she was.

He facepalmed, dragging his hands down his face to give me a deadpan look between his fingers. "Are you seriously dating the pizza guy?"

My shoulders tensed momentarily before I gave a nervous chuckle, holding my hand out to my tiny customer so I could receive her tip since she was too short to reach the jar. "Why do you ask?" I avoided his gaze, instead electing to sift through the small treasure pile now in my palm. Besides the assorted change, there was a smooth pebble, a shiny paperclip, and a crumpled up business card I assumed belonged to the kid's dad who she was scurrying back over to now. He was a big hairy guy standing off to one side in a garish blue suit with purple polka dots. The name on the card read James P Sully and he hailed from a company called Doors-R-Us, which I believed was a hardware store located somewhere else in the mall.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Frozone wordlessly point across the way. As I dropped the munny into the jar and tossed the rest, I looked to the Pizza Planet and I had to quash the urge to facepalm myself. Lea was bouncing around behind the counter there, not so subtly alternating back and forth between blowing me kisses and holding his hands up over his head in the shape of a heart.

"Yup," I sighed, closing my eyes and pressing my fingertips between my eyebrows, "that idiot over there would be my boyfriend alright."

It'd been a few days now since the group date. There hadn't been any further outings, not of that magnitude at least, but Lea and I had been taking our lunches together if they lined up as well as making other small public appearances together wherever else we could to keep the act up. I was finally getting to the point where I was more used to all the hand holding and hugs so they no longer fazed me, not outwardly at least. The little flutters my heart would give were another matter, but at least those were easy enough to conceal and keep to myself. His kisses, on the other hand, continued to be a work in progress, often still causing my brain to experience a temporary hiccup in functionality. But I liked to think I was getting better about that too, just more slowly. I still hadn't made any progress in the initiating-PDA-myself department, but I just needed more time. I was working up to it, I swear! I'd get there. Maybe today even. Perhaps… Possibly… Hopefully? ...unlikely. Ugh.

Lea himself had been enthusiastically taking on the task of leaving no doubt in anyone's minds that we were now a couple. In fact, this was not the first time he'd been brazenly sending me air kisses and hearts across the food court. Just the first time Frozone had caught him doing it.

"But why?" Frozone shook his head, looking genuinely confused. "I thought you two weren't even getting along. I mean, after the incident on your first day of work and all that weirdness in the weeks after…"

"Actually, we were dating before all that. Even before I started working here," I said quickly. Not that that helped clear things up for my coworker. Like… at all. But hey, I had a story to maintain. As his brow only wrinkled further at me, I winced. "It's… complicated."

He held his hands up, "You know what? I've decided I don't even care. As long as you don't let it interfere with your work, you do you, girl."

"Oh it won't! I promise! You can count on me," I reassured him, plastering on a smile. From my peripheral, I could see Lea was still at it with no sign of slowing down. If anything, he only seemed to be getting more spirited about it. To Frozone, I said with every ounce of dignity I could summon, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a very important and totally work-related text to make on my phone right now that in no way, shape, or form has anything to do with…" I gestured a hand gingerly towards the Pizza Planet, "that over there."

"...uh-huh," he said flatly, turning away to assist another customer.

Hastily fishing my phone out of my skirt pocket, I brought up my texts, tapping on a certain name before my thumbs were blurring across the screen.

Quit it, you're making a fool of yourself.

I narrowed my eyes up at him as I hit send and he froze mid gesticulation, looking down at one pocket of his pants. Then I watched as he dug his own phone out, read my message and smirked before his fingers were on the move. There was a buzz in my hands and I looked down at the screen.

1st of all, when hz that ever stopped me b4?

Well he had me there.

2nd of all, u thought all that was 4 u? Plz, all that luv was directed mr studmuffin ovr there

I squinted one eye at the words before looking back up at him. He was now waggling his eyebrows as he pointed to my left and I realized he meant Frozone. The man in question was looking between us as he rang up an order, his eyelids drooping. "Do I even want to know?"

I snorted, biting back a grin. "No, I really don't think you do," I told him, tapping away at my keyboard again.

Dork.

Lea was now typing something back one handed, using the other to wave off Xion as she tried to get his attention.

U know it. What time u off?

I checked the clock on my phone before replying.

10 more minutes.

Xion was beginning to look frustrated over there as she more urgently tugged on his sleeve. Lea just smothered her face with his free hand, lightly shoving her away while he remained focused on his phone.

Perfect me 2. Dont go NEwhere without me, we got plans ;)

My head tipped to one side.

We do?

Xion huffed, stomping away to grab a giant slab of pizza dough and balling it up in her hands as she gave Lea the evil eye. He continued to remain blissfully unaware.

Most defini9kf.u1kd4

Apparently his fingers had slipped followed by accidentally hitting send as that ball of dough smacked him square in the jaw, courtesy of Xion's pitching arm. And strong arm at that, for it was enough to knock him straight off his feet and send him disappearing below the counter. She razzed her tongue at him, dragging her left lower eyelid down with a finger. Then she paled and squeaked, bolting into the back room when a scowling Lea pulled himself back up, half his face dusted with flour now and one eye twitching as he stalked after her. I just laughed softly, turning my attention to a new customer that had just approached my register.

A few minutes later found me clocked out and standing in the food court, scrolling on my phone while I waited. I was still in my work attire, including of course a pair of glorious, blessed stockings (of the snowman-print variety) because never ever again would be the day I'd go without. My hair was still pulled back into a ponytail, but I'd tucked away the Ice Palace cap into my bag.

"Ah, there ya are!" I felt Lea's arm slip around my shoulders and his hand cup the side of my head, bending it towards him so he could press a kiss into my hair. He grinned down at me, "How is my lil lekker stroopwafel this fine day?"

I blinked up at him. He was still in his work clothes too, sans apron and visor. Pocketing my phone, I echoed, "...lekker stroopwafel?"

"It's Dutch. It means you're my lil delicious waffle," he cooed and planted a swift peck to my cheek, which I squeezed one eye shut against.

Face warming, I gave him a blank look. "Do I even have to say it?"

He pouted, "Aw man, really? Overruled? Crap, I'd thought you'd like that one too. Guess it's back to the ol' drawing board." He started walking, the arm still hugging my shoulders pulling me along with him.

Shaking my head at him with a tiny smile, I asked, "So what are these plans we have?"

Holding an index finger up to his lips, Lea winked at me. "It's a surprise."

I quirked an eyebrow and frowned thoughtfully. "...is it the clocktower again?"

"Pft, like I'd do the same thing twice. What a lame-ass surprise that'd be. What kinda uninspired oaf do you take me for? Gotta keep things new! Fresh!" he chuckled as he moved us along, keeping our pace brisk. "And bonus, it's good for the masses to see the two of us out and about like this. Keeps us in the public eye and people talking about what a freaking adorable couple we make. Stop here."

"Wha-?" I was cut off as he suddenly swept me around, pointing me at the Bippity Boppity Boo formalwear shop. However, I got the feeling that he wasn't so much facing me towards it specifically as he was more so facing me away from something else.

Standing in front of me now, he brushed a hand down over my sight. "Close your eyes please. No peeking now."

As soon as he removed his palm, my eyes snapped open again, "But what are you-"

"I said no peeking," he laughed, his hand gently sliding my eyes shut again. "You'll see soon enough, 'kay?"

"Fine," I puffed out a breath, crossing my arms and doing as I was told this time.

A shadow flickered over my eyelids - I think he was waving his hand in front of my face. Then I heard his footsteps walking past me, followed by him asking, "You got it?"

"Right here!" a friendly female voice I didn't recognize responded.

"Perfect! Thanks, you're an angel, this world isn't worthy of your pure divinity," he said back, to which she just gave a warm chuckle. Then I heard the tip-tap of Lea's shoes again, could feel him hovering just behind me now. When he spoke, his voice was right next to my ear, "Alright, you can open 'em now."

I did, discovering he'd looped his arm around to hold something up in front of my nose. A flower. Two of them actually, blooming from one stem, both white and delicate and with fuzzy sprigs of yellow sprouting out the centers.

"...winter honeysuckle?" I said quietly, carefully taking it from him.

His head still beside mine, I felt him nod, "Mm-hm! It's your favorite, right?"

I turned to look at him as he straightened up now. "How did you know?"

"Asked Raindrop," he grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets with a shrug and not yet taking a step back, remaining real close.

"Thank you," I murmured, bringing it up to my nose with a soft inhale. "I'm surprised it's blooming this time of year."

"That's Aerith for you. The Greenthumb Goddess," he tossed his head back towards the flower kiosk behind him and in particular at the woman running it. I recognized her from last time I'd walked past here, her big pink bow hard to forget. She just smiled at me, green eyes dancing as she waggled her fingers in a tiny wave.

I returned the smile and wave before setting my gaze on Lea once more. "Is this the surprise?"

"Are you kidding? Please, this is just the opening act. C'mon," he slipped his hand into mine and gently tugged me into a walk once more.

"But what's it for? Is there some sort of special occasion?" I frowned down at the plant, twirling it between my fingertips as I racked my brain, trying to come up with the answer myself but drawing a blank.

"Whaddya mean, what's it for?" he snorted as we passed an Olympus Gym with floor-to-ceiling windows, through which could be spotted a squat, bald, grumpy looking fellow that appeared to be training a chiseled, golden-haired Adonis who could be a strong contender for the Mr Universe title. Pulling me onto an escalator, Lea continued, "I just wanted to give ya something you'd like."

We slowly rose up to the second level, a Blitzball Sports shop and a Glass Slipper shoe store gliding by before disappearing beneath us on the floor below. A crease formed between my eyebrows. "But why?"

He blinked at me, then chuckled and ruffled his fingers through his hair. "Just cuz! What, does a boyfriend hafta have a reason to give his girlfriend lil gifts every now and again? Jeez, ya act like you never-" he froze, eyes widening. The back of his foot hit the top of the escalator, catching him off guard and he stumbled, but managed to remain upright before looking back at me horrified. "Wait. Please, please don't tell me your royal dumbass of an ex never gave you any flowers."

I stepped off the moving stairs after him, looking away with a tiny huff. "Yes, of course he would. Big bouquets, in fact, full of a whole variety of blooms. They were actually quite lovely… but…" I raised the flowers up to my nose once more, hiding my small grimace behind them. "...well, there was just always a reason… an event or something. Just because etiquette would demand it. And they were never winter honeysuckles. I don't think he even knew they were my favorite. He never… asked…"

Lea pinched the bridge of his nose with a grumbling sigh. "This guy sounds more n' more like a total tool with each new thing I hear about him. Ugh, forget him," he brightened, linking our hands together once more, leading us onward.

We passed a magic shop bearing a glittery sign that read Sorcerer's Apprentice, inside which were two old dudes, each with beards more ridiculously long and grey than the last, plus a younger blonde gentleman with a goatee and several piercings, his hands shuffling what was most likely a trick deck of playing cards. Neighboring that establishment was the Blue Sitar, a musical instrument store with some guy snoozing behind the counter, his hair at war with itself, not quite sure whether it was a mohawk or a mullet.

My attention was drawn back to Lea as he chimed in once more, "Besides, we have way more important concerns to be thinking about." He turned his head to the right and his eyes lit up. "Like puppies!"

"Pup-?" the word was swallowed in a gasp as he dragged me into a run towards a store dubbed 101 Spots. A pet store, to be exact, as I quickly learned when we passed through its doors and my ears were greeted with a chaotic chorus of woofs, meows, and chirps. Both eyebrows shot up my forehead as I glanced around, "...is this the surprise?"

"Nah, this is just a detour," he chuckled, releasing my hand to squat down and reach forward, fingers beckoning towards a dalmation near the cashier counter. The dog's ears perked up curiously for a second, then it gave an excited bark and barreled into his arms, nearly toppling Lea to the ground. It seemed the two were already old pals, if the way the canine's tail thumped against the carpet was any indication.

I tilted my head. "For puppies?"

"Well yeah! Always detour for puppies! Isn't that right, Mr Slobber-Drool-Face? Yes it is!" he squished the dalmation's face between his hands, using his baby-talk voice as it responded by enthusiastically giving him doggie-kisses.

Oh dear. Lea liked dogs.

"Is that the spot right there, buddy?" he asked as his four-legged friend flopped onto its back expectantly and Lea obliged, both hands giving vigorous belly scritches. "Oh yeah, that's definitely the spot! Woojy-woojy-woo!"

Like… really, really liked dogs.

My crush was soaring to dangerous new heights.

Clearing my throat, I tucked my flower into my bag, leaving the petals poking out the top so they didn't get smashed. Then I kneeled down beside him so I could reach down and scratch behind the dog's ear. It lapped at my palm and I grinned. "You looking to take this one home?"

"That's Pongo," a new voice spoke up. I looked up to see the woman with blonde hair done up into a bun smiling at me from behind the counter. Anita, or so her nametag boasted. "And he's not for sale. He and Perdita," she looked fondly down at a second dalmatian sleeping nearby, "belong to my husband and me. Perdita will be having puppies soon though, so you may want to check back in a few weeks."

"I like to stop in and give Pongo and all the other puppers here some wub whenever I can," Lea cooed, playfully wrastling the dog into a hug.

My eyes crinkled as I watched him play with the pooch for another minute, then I stood up once more, deciding to take a look around. I meandered slowly, reaching into the low pens as I passed by to give quick pats to dogs, cats, and bunnies, running my fingers lightly along the bars of bird cages as their occupants quizzically cocked their feathered heads at me before I moved on.

Finally I came to a stop in front of the puppy pen. And I didn't mean that in the same way Lea did, who seemed to call everything that barked and ran on all fours a puppy, regardless of the animal's true age. These were actual puppies. There were a bunch of children on the other side of the pen that had gathered most of the puppies into a joyful frenzy over there. However, there was one that was staying back, ears at attention as it sat on its haunches and stoically watched the others frolic. Put quite simply, it was a pure ball of fluff, white and poofy. It had to be more fur than dog.

"Hey there little guy," I murmured, getting its attention as I bent down over the enclosure. It backed up a step, lowering into a crouch and giving the hand I offered it a tiny growl, which was more cute than threatening. "It's alright," I soothed patiently, still holding out my hand. The snarling subsided and after a hushed pause, it tentatively crept forward to snuffle at my hand before giving it a timid lick. "Ah, I see," I laughed, sticking both hands in now to pick the puppy up and hold it in front of my face, "not such a tough guy after all, huh? No, you're just a big ol' softie deep down."

Its stubby tail began to wag and it replied with a small yip.

"You don't say?" I smiled back, cradling it in my arms now and taking one of its paws in my hand. "Look at those feet. You're going to be a big fellah, aren't you? Do you have a name?" Another yip. I scanned the puppy corral, but didn't see any signs listing names. Ruffling the cushy fur of its tummy, I told it, "Well you look like a Marshmallow to me."

"Quick," Lea suddenly appeared at my shoulder, whispering into my ear, "you distract everyone with your feminine wiles and I'll stuff the pup down my shirt to smuggle him out of here."

I snerked, not taking my eyes off the poof as I tapped a finger to its wet nose. "Ah, so this is the one you're going to get. Good choice."

"Me? Nah," he shook his head as his hand went to pet it and it repaid him by treating his fingers like a chew toy. He didn't seem to mind. "Saïx would murder me execution style if I ever brought a dog home."

I turned to look up at him now, arching an eyebrow. "But I thought you said Saïx loved dogs."

"Nope. Other way around, they love him. He just suffers their presence. Does lead to some pretty funny interactions though whenever he crosses paths with one. But no, I meant you. How 'bout it, wanna give this lil tyke a home?"

"Oh no," I sighed sadly, shifting the puppy in my arms and it took the opportunity to flick my nose with its pink tongue as I did so. "Unfortunately, pets aren't allowed in my apartment complex. But maybe when I get my own place."

His head rocked back slightly, "Huh? Already have plans to move out? But you just got there."

"Situation's temporary. My room's a future baby nursery, so I need to find a place before junior arrives in a few months." I nuzzled the critter's snoot. "Hopefully I'll find somewhere nice that allows dogs and I can get a little cutie like this guy to just snuggle with in bed all day."

"Mmm," he hummed. I could feel his hand trailing down the length of my ponytail, running it through his fingers and letting it slowly slip free strand by strand as he mumbled, "Sounds like that would be nice to come home to." Then he tensed beside me, snatching his hand back to instead scratch a spot behind his ear, "Er… that is… I mean you make… coming home to a dog sound nice. Heh."

I made a noncommittal noise in my throat, stroking a curled finger under the puppy's chin.

"...I'm going to have to take the lil mutt away from you, aren't I?" I heard Lea ask.

"Chances are good, yes."

"Alright, fuzzball, time to go back to your pen before the pretty lady commits grand theft doggo," he scooped the pooch from my arms. It growled at him and he just snorted as he plopped it down into the enclosure, "Oh yeah, so scary. Got me shaking in my stylish-yet-sensible Chuck Taylors."

Would-Be-Marshmallow ran up to the plastic fence, whimpering at me and giving me the full force of its sad puppy-dog stare. I tucked in my bottom lip, my hands already reaching for it again, "Maybe I should just-"

"Nope, let's go," he snagged my hand and started leading me towards the exit. "Don't make eye contact, that's how they get ya. One look and bam! You're powerless to resist their evil, doggie mind games."

I let him guide me back out of the store, offering little resistance beyond a tiny pout. It wasn't until he led us onto another escalator that I snapped out of my sulking. I furrowed my brow, looking down, "Wait, we're descending."

One step below me, he turned to face me with a smirk. This was one of the rare occasions he was at my eye level without having to stoop. "Yes, that more or less tends to happen on down escalators."

"But why?" I frowned.

His head tipped slightly to the left. "...I'm guessing you're looking for an answer more sophisticated than, 'to get to the first floor.'"

I rolled my eyes, "Yes, I mean why-" I stopped, realization dawning on me and my eyelids drooped. "...did we seriously only go to the second floor so you could pet the dogs?"

"Puppies," he corrected then shrugged, "and yes. It was on the way."

"No, no… if it requires taking an up escalator to get there, then a down escalator to get back on track, that is by definition out of the way."

He lifted his chin with a sniff, "Puppies are never out of the way."

I shook my head at him, "You have a problem."

"Says the puppy snatcher."

"I did not-"

"Oh-ho, but you wanted to. Could see it in your eyes, El," he leaned forward, pointing to his own gaze. "Lucky I was there to save you from going down a dark path from which there's no turning back."

I gave a huff through my nose and deadpanned, "My hero."

"That's right, babycakes. And don't heroes always get a kiss from their lady fairs in honor of their heroic deeds?" His hands shifted to cover mine on the rubber handrails and he leaned in further still, his nose brushing mine, his eyes hooded.

Cue the conga drum beat that was the hammering of my heart.

Gosh, he really did just so love using this pretend boyfriend act to mess with my head, didn't he?

Well, nope. Nu uh. Not today, you stupid blush! Turn around and march yourself back to wherever you came from because this face ain't buying what you're selling.

I rocked back on my heels a bit, regaining a little space between us as I turned my head away. "Well, if you head back to 101 Spots, I'm sure Perdita would love to slobber you with those kisses."

Snerking, he stepped off the escalator as we reached the bottom, muttering, "Was worth a shot." As I followed him onto the ground floor, he grabbed hold of my shoulders and guided me a few steps further before bringing us to a stop. "Here we are!" he proclaimed, flourishing his hands out before us, "Ta-da!"

My nose scrunched up slightly. "...The Toy Box?" I read the colorful sign hanging over the archway before me that opened up into (you guessed it) a children's toy store. It seemed business was currently slow, for inside all I could see was one employee by himself, wearing a kiddie cowboy hat too small for his head and galloping around on a stick horse to amuse himself.

"Huh?" Lea followed my gaze then tsked under his breath. "No, not that. That." He pivoted me slightly so I was instead looking at the next business over. Above its entrance flashed big, neon letters spelling out Hot Wheels. They were punctuated by a blinking image of a pair of old fashioned four-wheeled skates leaving a trail of cartoon fire in their wake.

"A roller rink?" I asked slowly and uncertainly.

"Yup! C'mon!" And with that, he weaved our fingers together once more and pulled me through the doors.

The place was huge inside, with eighties synth-pop blasting out from the overhead speakers. The ambient lighting was dim, but you'd hardly notice what with all the glowing neon rainbow tubes twisting and stretching along the walls, the iridescent laser light show dancing to and fro, and the spotlights darting about all over the large arena that was taking up a majority of the space. It was jam-packed with roller skaters laughing and having a good time.

Lea led me over to a long counter immediately to the right of where we'd entered. The cashier across from us was a chick with short, choppy black hair that had a few streaks of violet in it. She said nothing, just crossed her arms and stared at us, chewing her bubblegum and looking unimpressed.

"Hey Go Go!" Lea chirped at her, holding up a pair of fingers. "Two sets of skates please!"

Bored stare not letting up, she merely blew a bubble and remained silent. For a second, I almost thought she hadn't heard him over the blare of the music. But then the gum burst and she gave a flat, "This her?" Her eyes gave me a quick once over before narrowing on Lea. "She's too good for you, Red."

"Don't I know it!" he laughed before shifting over to mime cupping his hands over my ears, "But don't let her hear you say that, otherwise she might finally come to her senses and dump my sorry ass!"

Her eyelids drooped and she blew another bubble. Tough crowd, it seemed. With another pop, she turned her back to us, grabbing a few things off the shelf behind her before dropping them down on the countertop in front of us. "You know where the lockers are," was all she said as I looked down at the padlock and two pairs of roller skates - the smaller set powder blue while the others a blinding red.

"Sure do! Thanks, Go Go," Lea beamed, gathering everything up and tucking it under one arm.

I cocked my head at her, "But I didn't even tell you my shoe size, how-"

Once again, I was being dragged away by Lea's hand on mine. I tripped but caught myself, glancing over at him as we walked towards some benches. He grinned, "Don't worry, they'll fit. Like me, she's got a gift," he tapped an index finger to his temple. "Except instead of ice cream, it's skate size."

Okay… strange talent.

But couldn't argue with results. They fit like a glove. As I tightened and tied my rentals, I glanced over at Lea out of the corner of my eye while he did the same with his. Roller-skating, huh? Not what I'd expected. Then again, I'd had no idea what to expect. But this could be fun. Plus, maybe I could look at this as another opportunity to initiate PDA. Couples roller-skating was an optimal time to do that, right? Right! I just needed to look for my opening and, I don't know… just grab his hand, something like that.

Alright. Mission Make A Move was in motion.

Maybe.

We'll see.

It wasn't long before both Lea and I had finished lacing up and stowed our shoes away into a locker along with the rest of our belongings we wouldn't need. I followed him to one of the few openings in the barriers surrounding the rink. "Ever roller-skated before?" he asked, stepping out into the oval arena just as the song You Spin Me Round started playing over the sound system.

"No," I shook my head, padding across the carpet and stopping at the edge of the ring. I watched as his wheels glided him into a half-spin with ease, coming to a stop when he faced me. Clearly, this wasn't his first rodeo. I shrugged, "But I used to ice skate, so shouldn't be a problem."

"Shouldn't be," he hummed a chuckle, eyes crinkling. Then he rolled back a few steps, making room for me and gesturing for me to proceed, "Have at it then."

I took a step onto the glossy surface, stumbled and nearly faceplanted.

I say nearly because Lea was there in the blink of an eye to catch my arms and steady me, giving a loud snort through his nose. "Dunno how much your ice skating background is gonna help ya here. Blades and wheels? Not the same thing. Ice and hardwood? Not-"

"-the same thing. Got it," I grumbled, my legs wobbling as I struggled to keep my balance, my fingers squeezing his forearms hard.

He smiled down at me before cautiously releasing one of my arms so he could about-face, shifting to my side. There, he took my other hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow before his feet pushed off, coasting at the speed of molasses. Me, being on teeny-tiny tires, had little choice but to be towed along with him as he said, "Ice and roller-skating are two sides of the same coin, but still totally different animals. Your muscle memory is probably gonna work against ya for a bit. Your body will expect things to work one way and react accordingly only to be surprised when the physics of it all is totally outta whack."

"Thanks for the lecture, professor. I think I'll figure it out." I tested moving one foot forward, slipped and desperately tightened my grip on him to stay upright. "...eventually," I amended, both my arms hugging his bicep close now.

Did this count as making a move?

I don't think it did. It was more like advancing a move already in progress and not even one that I'd started myself in the first place.

Maybe I should concentrate less on making a move and more on just not falling flat on my rear.

Consider the mission scrapped.

"So… you were an ice skater?" he asked conversationally.

I nodded, trying out another step while still using him for support. This one went marginally better. "I took lessons for a few years as a kid. My parents' idea. Supposedly, it improves posture, balance, flexibility and coordination, all in the pursuit of excellence," I recited dryly. "But even though it was just another tool they used to mold me into being their perfect little girl, I still found it fun despite all that. I actually enjoyed it quite a lot. I was sad when they ended my lessons once they'd decided I'd outgrown it."

"Ah," he continued creeping us along at a lazy pace while I grew more bold and determined in my attempts to figure out how to make the cursed roller-skates bend to my will and obey me. "That explains why all your movements are so graceful."

"Graceful?" my head snapped up to look at him before I gave a derisive snort. "No, not at all, I'm a total klutz."

"Sometimes," he agreed, pulling to a stop and curving around to stand in front of me now as he hunched forward to look me in the eye, one corner of his lips twitching up. "But that's cute too."

Bam.

Shot through the heart.

Which, coincidentally, were the lyrics that'd just sung out over the speakers as the music switched to You Give Love A Bad Name.

As my brain scrambled to come up with a response, any response to that, a huge smirk suddenly flashed across his face and he declared, "And spin!"

"Wha-?"

Taking both my hands in his, he leaned back and started swinging us both around into a twirl together. Or perhaps death spiral would be the more appropriate term for it. I squeaked as we gained speed, our surroundings blurring more and more together, my feet scrambling to keep the wheels from slipping out from underneath me.

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall," Lea called, still grinning like a madman.

And oddly enough, I took comfort in those simple words. I shyly smiled back and my muscles began to relax. Once I stopped fighting the spin, it went a lot more smoothly. I laughed as my ponytail whipped about from the centripetal force.

He abruptly slowed us to a stop and I staggered at the sudden change, but he caught me around the waist with one arm, pulling me up against him. "I got you," he reassured, panting a bit from energy expended on the twirl. I just breathed a small chuckle and his gaze softened as it flicked from my eyes over to my ponytail, which had swung itself forward over my shoulder when we'd stopped spinning. He brought his free hand up to twist a platinum tendril around one finger. "...why don't you ever wear your hair down?"

"My…?" I blinked at the random question that'd seemingly popped up out of the blue. My gaze averted and shifted about. "Well, I… I guess I never really thought about it. Just to keep it out of my face, I suppose."

Lea watched his fingers as they continued to play with the strands. "Your hair is just really pretty. It looks… I mean, I can... imagine how nice it must look down."

That blush came a-knocking again. And this time my face, being the utter fool that it was, let it in.

I suddenly shot out one arm to the side, pointing a finger and blurting out, "Go over there."

He spluttered and snerked. "Seriously? Just cuz I'm a fan of your hair, you're banishing me?"

"Th-that's not- no, I just-" I stammered, looking down with a frown. "I want to try and see if I can skate on my own for a bit."

"Oh." He tipped his head. "You sure you're ready for that?"

"Won't know until I try. Now," I flicked my hand dismissively at him, "shoo."

Releasing me, he started skating backwards. "Fine. I'll be right here though if ya need me," he said, stopping just a few feet in front of me.

Now shakily standing under my own power, I moved one foot forward to attempt a glide. I teetered and I saw him tense, ready to spring into action and rescue me. However I steadied myself, shooting him a tiny warning glare. He backed off, raising his hands in surrender. I sighed then told him, "Turn around."

His head reeled back, "What?!"

"Turn around," I insisted, rolling slowly forward now, feet lurching and arms darting stiffly about to maintain my balance. He began drifting backwards, maintaining the same space between us. "I can't do this with you looking at me. I feel self conscious."

He beamed. "But I like looking at you! It gives me the warm fuzzies inside," he announced loudly into the sudden hush as the last song ended so all the other skaters around us could no doubt hear.

How I didn't pancake onto the hardwood right then and there will forever remain a mystery to me.

This guy, I swear. The lengths he was willing to go to to sell the whole boyfriend act would never cease to amaze me. Feeling that familiar warmth creep back up into my cheeks as Take On Me started to play, I snapped, "Just turn around!"

"Alright already, jeez," he sniggered, rotating away from me to face forward now while still maintaining the same snail speed.

"No peeking," I told him sternly.

Lea gave an exasperated laugh, "I'm not! I'm not peeking!"

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously on his back as I wobbled my way into another step. Then I had a thought. Perhaps now would be the opportune moment to give the whole PDA thing another shot. I was already starting to get the hang of roller-skating. If I could catch up to him, I could go for the hand or… or hug the arm or something! Just for the sake of maintaining appearances, of course. You know, just... keeping up my half of this whole pretend girlfriend-boyfriend deal. My motives were strictly professional and had nothing to do with a certain little, teensy-weensy crush that would never, ever even see the light of day.

Yeah, okay, let's do this.

Mission Make A Move was back on.

Alright, step one: reaching him.

...that might take some doing.

In the meantime, we'll instead work on step zero: small talk.

"Do you come here a lot?" I asked, unsteadily picking up speed and trying to close the gap. "You seem pretty good at it."

"The kiddos and I goof around here from time to time," he scissored his skates, leisurely weaving his feet in and out and in again. "Been doing it for a while now, so I've picked up a few things. Not gonna be going pro anytime soon, but I get by."

I attempted to mimic his actions with my own skates and failed miserably, floundering a bit before stabilizing. At least the fumble had brought me a few inches closer. "I'm sure you've brought a girl or two here before too."

He shook his head with a chuckle, "Nah. Never really made any stops along the way between the bar and my apartment when taking a lady friend home. But… I always did think this might be a fun place to take a gal on a date."

Realization struck.

"Wait!" my foot slipped, I staggered and flailed before catching myself. "Is this a date?!"

"Heh, sorta?" his hand went to the nape at the neck, tugging at the hairs there. "More of a mini-date? Or just… chilling together cuz we enjoy the pleasure of each other's dazzling company so much!"

"This is a date!" I repeated, stomping after him furiously now. Which, let me tell you, was not effective in skates at all. But through sheer force of will alone, I managed to get a bit closer. "I was supposed to pay for the next date!"

"And you have!"

I swear I could hear the smirk in his voice.

"I most certainly have not!"

Almost there now.

"Have too! It was free. Me and Go Go are tight, like this," he held up one hand, crossing his index with his middle finger, "so I gots the hookups!"

A growling huff escaped me. "Cheater. This doesn't count, I'm paying for the next one."

"This so counts! Next one's on me, you can cover the one after that."

I scoffed. "And give you time to figure out how to con the system again? I don't think so, you-"

I suddenly tripped over the toe stop of my left skate and toppled forward, crashing hard into Lea's back, my arms instinctively latching around his waist. He grunted in surprise and swayed, but managed to keep us both upright and standing. As I hung onto him as if my life depended on it, fingers clutching at the front of his shirt, face buried in his back and inhaling his cinnamon scent mixed with the hint of pizza that still clung to his clothes from having gotten off work not too long ago, it slowly sunk in…

Mission accomplished.

Move made.

...albeit accidentally.

But still!

One small step for Elsa, one giant leap for introvert-kind everywhere.

Maybe the next one I'd actually do on purpose.

Cheeks burning now, I awkwardly cleared my throat as I relaxed my grip on the fabric of his Pizza Planet polo and started to withdraw my arms, mumbling, "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Don't," Lea said quickly, covering my hands with his and squeezing, forcing them to stay put right where they were. I could feel him pushing us off into a slow glide once more. "Don't… worry about it. It's fine, I don't mind. Take all the time you need to regain your footing."

"...thank you," I muffled into his shoulder blade. Then I hesitated, gnawing on my bottom lip. "...you know… for a guy who's never been an actual boyfriend before, you're actually really good at this."

I could feel his laugh rumble through his whole chest. "Thanks," he said, gently pulling on my arm to bring me around to his side so he could look down at me as he slung an arm over my shoulders, all while making sure my arms remained firmly secured around his midsection. There was a faint redness to his face, probably from the exertion of all this roller-skating. I could only hope he'd assume that was my excuse too. "I guess I was just waiting for the right person to come waltzing into my life." Then he winked and grinned, "That person being your uncle of course."

Eyes widening, I stumbled again, grasping Lea more tightly. "My… you mean the Duke?"

"Hell yeah, the Duke! Talk about silver fox! I mean, hot damn, mamma may I!" he fanned himself with his free hand.

Snorting, I shook my head. "I guess the heart wants what the heart wants."

He chuckled, rubbing his hand up and down my arm. "Seriously though, if it weren't for his Royal High-And-Snootiness marching into the food court and unleashing all holy hell, you and I wouldn't be here doing this right now. I wouldn't be unlocking and realizing my full boyfriend potential and you," he poked the tip of my nose, "wouldn't be experiencing all the joys that come with being the lucky recipient of such attention. He's the one that started it all."

"I suppose that's true," I nodded as I tried to mirror the way his feet moved. How did he make it look so easy?

"And I like to think we have fun with it too," he smiled down at me.

I returned it. "We do."

"Good. On that note," he reached down, unfastening my arms from his waist as he announced, "let's make like a pair of professional roller rinkers and dance!" Taking my hand in his, he whipped me into a couple tight spins.

"Roller rinkers?" I laughed softly when I came to a shaky stop, one hand going to his chest to steady myself. "Don't think that's a real term."

"Hey now, who's the one who actually knows how to skate here?" he smirked, twirling me out wide now. "Trust me, I know the lingo."

I rolled my eyes as he pulled me back in. "My mistake. Forgive me for questioning you, oh supreme fountain of roller-skating knowledge."

"Damn skippy! Now for the flashy finish," his hand went to the small of my back and he bent me backwards into a low dip, waggling his eyebrows at me as he did so.

And that's when it all went wrong.

For you see, I don't think nature ever intended for one human being to dip another while both had tiny wheels attached to their feet.

"Motherfu-" that's all Lea got out before our skates shot out from beneath us and we both went crashing painfully to the floor, him on top of me.

I heard him groan, then, "Shit! El, you okay?!" He hastily braced himself up onto his hands, hovering over me and eyes full of concern.

"Fine," I winced, my fingers going to rub the sore spot at the back of my head. "Let's just… leave the dancing to the professional roller rinkers from now on, okay?"

Relieved, he gave a low breathy laugh and pushed himself back to sit on his knees. "That sounds like quitter talk and I won't stand for it."

I sat up, propping my palms against the cold hardwood behind me. "Good, better not to stand period. Less chance of falling that way."

"C'mon, you. Back on the horse," he grinned, drawing a knee up to his chest to get one skate under him followed by the other before standing and reaching his hands down towards me.

With a sigh, I took them and let him pull me back up to my feet. "Alright, but no more dipping."

One arm encircling my shoulders once more, his eyes crinkled. "I make no such promises."

That earned him an elbow to the ribcage.

Author's Note: Here, have the latest batch of lil references I've baked up fresh out of the oven xP I actually don't have any fun facts for this chapter, I just simply delighted in getting to expand on the mall a bit and injecting more gooey, mushy fluff xD Personally, this is up there for one of my fave chapters of the whole story, haha!

Next chapter, will our couple continue to perfect their fake dating skillz? How will their actual relationship keep developing and evolving? Will Elsa ever successfully "make a move" on purpose? Will the two of them ever realize their as yet unspoken dream of being professional roller rinkers and take the skating world by storm? Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

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sorceress-coffee · 4 years

Text

Wherefore Art Thou, Witch?

AO3 Link

As the group entered Trollmarket for the first time the boys were lost in wonderment, running from stall to stall, greeting as many trolls as they could while Toby snapped pictured of them on his phone. River sighed, keeping her burnt hands close to her sides as they went, peering into different caverns, wondering how far Trollmarket truly went, trying to ignore the shocked stares and gasps their group received. Pausing behind the group, River found what appeared to be a giant formation of sapphires, as she was turning to approach the crystal structure it began to move. As it turned River came face to face with a large sapphire troll, their eyes matching the giant fire like crystal in the middle of Trollmarket. She raised her burnt hand in a small wave as the troll snarled at her, eyeing her palm before letting out a huff. River shrugged the reaction off, choosing to follow after the group only to find a crowd had encased them.

Struggling to get through the crowd, River barely made it to Jim and the others when a deep voice brimming with irritation roared out, causing the crowd to part quickly. ��What is all this?”

Blinky froze at the voice, wary of who it belonged to. “Ah… Draal. Always happy to see you. I was just getting to that” He stammered out quickly.

River turned to see the troll from the cavern, now known as Draal, was looming over her, snarling down at Jim and Toby as Blinky greeted him. “Human feet have never sullied the ground of Trollmarket!” He growled out. Getting in Jim’s face, “What are the fleshbags doing here?” He snarled, refusing to address said fleshbags. River snarled, pushing her way between Jim and Draal, glaring up at the troll. A startled look flashed in his eyes before he huffed from his nose, the steam pushing River’s hair back a bit, though she refused to back down.

Blinky sighed, “How do I put this delicately…” He hesitated, gesturing towards Jim when he finally found his words again. “This is our new Trollhunter.” He winced as each toll in attendance let out a collective gasp, attention drawn to Jim.

“He can’t be the Trollhunter! He’s not a toll!” Draal yelled, slamming his fist into the ground next to River, trying to scare the humans.

River looked from Draal’s face to the hand indenting the ground. When she looked back up to him, she simply arched her brow before going to stand next to Jim. After Bular, there wasn’t much that could scare her tonight. “The Amulet called his name.” She said simply.

Arrrgh nudged Jim forward slightly. “Amulet chose.” He said, eyes never leaving Draal’s tense frame.

Before the others could get a word in, Toby spoke up, elbowing Jim’s side. “Show them, Jimbo?” He grinned.

Jim nodded, saying the incantation, allowing the armor to envelop him again. “Cool right?” Jim asked, smiling at the crowd, hoping the armor was enough proof for them.

“Bushigal!” Draal yelled, stalking towards Jim. “I am Draal,” he began, hitting a fist over his chest, “son of Kanjigar and the amulet’s rightful heir!” He exclaimed.

“Uh, you’re his son?” Jim asked, distress evident, “He’s his son?” he turned to Blinky for an answer. Blinky winced, wringing his four hands together and nodding slightly.

River looked from the Amulet to Draal, realizing what this meant for him. “That’s going to be a problem…” She trailed off. Toby wince, nodding in agreement.

Draal stood at his full height over Jim, chin raised in the air as he glared down at him. “When my father fell, the honor should have passed on to me.” He grabbed the amulet, trying to rip it out of the armor. A bright blue light enveloped Jim and pushed him and Draal apart.

Aaarrrgghh quickly caught Jim, holding him out slightly to Draal as if proving a point. “Amulet chose.” He stated again.

Draal was staring at the amulet, shocked it had rejected him. Blinky ushered the group by Draal quickly, heading to our next destination in Trollmarket. Draal eyed them, standing up again. “We’ll see what Vendel has to say about this,” he growled out.

Blinky nodded, “Of course, go ahead and fetch him then,” he said, pushing Jim in front of him, saying something about busy training.

River paused next to Draal, bowing her head slightly for his father before heading after the group. Draal caught sight of her burnt hands as she left, humming to himself as he went to find Vendel.

River finally caught up to the others in the Forge, eyes going wide and the sheer size of the underground arena. “This is ‘The Hero’s Forge.’” Blinky exclaims as Toby took pictures of every square inch, mumbling about different minerals.

Jim took notice of the statues and Blinky was quick to explain that they are the remains of his predecessors, including an empty pedestal for Kanjigar’s remains.

River was walking around the perimeter of the Forge, hand ghosting over the markings and runes carved into the stone walls. “This is amazing,” She came to a stop next to Blinky as he was finishing his explanation of the Trollhunters.

“A line of heroism that reaches back to the age of Merlin, he exclaimed, walking to a lever in one of the walls.

“Merlin?” She asked, following him. “As in the wizard in the tales of King Arthur and Camelot?”

Blinky nods, “The very same Lady River, I’m glad you’re familiar with your history. Especially after witnessing your magic tonight.” Blinky grinned.

River furrowed her brow in confusion. “My history?” She stared up at him. “Wait, what magic tonight?

“I assumed you knew, after all the spell you used to attack Bular takes years of training to control.” Blinky paused in thought.

Before she could respond, an aged voice carried throughout the forge. “Blinkous Galadrigal!” Blinky quickly shut the forge down, obviously nervous about this voice. The blades retracted to reveal a goat-like troll walking towards us from the stone bridge. “Blinkous Galadrigal.” He repeated, walking up to the group quickly. When he was close enough you could see his eyes were grey though they sparkled as if they held a galaxy within.

Blinky introduced the troll as Vendel, the elder, and leader, of Trollmarket. Vendel began to poke and prod at Toby, asking for the Trollhunter.

Jim chuckled, “I think I’m the ‘fleshbag’ you’re looking for.” He pulled out the Amulet to show Vendel.

“Amulet chose,” Arrrgh quickly defended, standing next to Jim.

Vendel hummed in thought, before bringing up Unkar the Unfortunate, the last Trollhunter Blink trained. River winced at the thought of being torn limb from limb, the burns she had sustained earlier were bad enough. Vendel tapped the center of the forge, a large statue sprouting from the ground. “The Soothscryer will judge the fleshbag.” He directed Jim on what to do.

Jim paled when Vendel told him to place his hand in the mouth of the Soothscryer. “I’m going to get it back right?” He asked rubbing his palms.

Vendel smirked at the hesitation. “That’s part of the test.”

Jim sighed as Toby helped him reach the opening. As soon as he placed his in the mouth of the Soothscryer it clamped down on his arm. A panicked scream ripped from Jim as he tried to pull his arm from the Soothscryer. River rushed to him, grabbing at him as fast as she could causing her to snarl in pain from her burnt palms, pulling Jim as hard as she could. The Soothscryer released them, Jim falling back against River and River falling onto Toby.

Once outside of Trollmarket River slouched to the ground with a groan. “What the hell did I get myself into?”

Draal snorts, noticing that she stopped, “You threw yourself into countless hours of studying and training with the old goat.” He lifted her by the hood of her jacket to sniff the gashes in the back. “So, you fought Bular and lived, with no training. I’d say impressive, but it appears to be shit luck.” He dropped her and continued walking.

River let out a growl at getting troll handled, “Oh really? Why should I care if you’re impressed?” she smirked watching him walk, “By the way, that path leads to school, home is that direction.” She stated, jabbing her thumb behind her.

Draal growled, turning and stalking by. “I wouldn’t go the wrong way if you knew how to lead.” He was definitely irritated. River quickly fell in step beside him, heading up along the trail.

They walked in silence for a while until a sigh escaped her, “I’m sorry, for your father and the amulet. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose both in one day.”

“I don’t need a fleshbag’s pity.” He growled out.

“I’m not pitying you Draal, I’m empathizing. Big difference.” She stated. Even though she could understand his reaction, she didn’t have to like it. River paused as they got close to the house. “It sucks okay? I get losing a parent, I understand that pain. But losing a parent and what you believe to be your destiny in one go? I can understand your anger towards Jim and not the ‘he’s a fleshbag’ anger, but the ‘he took everything from me’ anger.” She explained, copying Draal’s arm movements as she spoke about him hating Jim.

Draal watched her carefully, calculating how to react. “You are strange.” He finally says looking to the house. “You empathize… you’ve experienced the pain; you don’t just know of it.” He stated, watching the windows of the house.

“Why do you think I live with my aunt and cousin?” River asked, shrugging slightly. “I don’t expect you to trust or like me Draal, but I have a feeling we will be seeing each other a lot, and I hope we can be on better terms than today.”

Draal only hummed in acknowledgment.

River nodded turning to the house, “Thank you for walking me home, even if Vendel asked you to. Be careful about going back home!” She called out, heading into the house with a wave.

Draal lifts his hand in a slight wave before heading back into the trees, back to Trollmarket.

River quickly shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket seeing her aunt Barbara. “Hey mom, sorry I’m home late, I was at the library!” Not a total lie, she was in a toll library.

Barbara smiled and waved it off. “No worries sweetie, how are your hands though? Jim said you burned them during your science class.” She held out her hands expectantly. River winced slightly pulling her hands out so Dr. Lake could inspect the bandages.

“They’re okay, the uh, nurse had stuff for burning, I’m supposed to keep them wrapped up though,” River explained.

Dr. Lake turned River’s hands over, nodding after a moment, “The nurse did an excellent job. No painting tonight though. You’ll need to rest them.” She kissed River’s forehead letting her hands go. “Jim took your dinner upstairs, should be in your room.”

River grinned running up, “Thanks, mom!” She quickly ran to Jim’s door, knocking carefully before entering and flopping on his bed.

Jim chuckles, “It’s been a day.” He pulls at the black satchel. “What’s this?”

She groaned, rolling over, “My new magic homework. Apparently, I’m a sorceress, and have to train or ‘risk becoming a threat.’” She mocked in Vendel’s voice sitting up, pulling out the books to show him. “So, while you’re stuck in the forge, I’m stuck in the Heartstone.” She teased, acting like it’s the worst.

Jim rolled his eyes, “Oh yeah, because learning magic is oh so boring,” he teased back, picking up the books and looking them over. “How are you supposed to read these? They’re in another language.”

River shrugged, “Vendel checked, apparently being able to read it has something to do with magic.” She pointed to the smaller book. “That one is about keeping King Arthur in line.”

He laughs, picking it up and flipping through it. “How’d you get home?”

She let out a snort, “Vendel had Draal, of all trolls, walk me home.”

Jim groans at the name throwing himself back on his pillow, “He wants to kill me, I swear he does.”

River smiled slightly, “He’s had a rough few days, give him time, I think you might end up getting along.”

Jim and River stayed up for a while. She read him most of the book on ‘How to keep King Arthur in Line.’ River would have loved to meet Merlin if he was this hilarious in person. After a while they decided to try and sleep, training was going to be ruthless after all, and they needed as much rest as they could get.

After school, as promised, Jim, Toby, and River headed straight for Trollmarket, excited to start training. They met with Blinky and Aaarrrgghh at the entrance and were quickly escorted inside. River broke off from the group as they reached the cavern with a glowing Daylight sign above it, waving as she headed to the Heartstone to meet with Vendel.

“Hello, Master Vendel!” She greeted as she entered the cave.

He chuckled, “River, are you ready? We will be starting with the basics of identifying and sorting spell materials.”

She nodded, “Actually, as I was reading, I realized a lot of the basics for magic dealt with ingredient distinction, especially minerals. I’ve been collecting and identifying stones with Toby.” She pulled out a large black case, opening it to show Vendel the stones inside. “These are from my collection at home. I followed the classification guides and separated them accordingly. Toby let me practice with his collection as well.”

Vendel took the black case and studied the stones and ingredients closely. “I’m surprised you haven’t cut these.” He hummed and nodded. “Well done, you have sorted them properly.” He paused thinking, his lesson going out the window, “Why don’t we check on the Trollhunter’s progress? It will give you a chance to assess how trolls fight.”

River nodded quickly, following him as they took a different route to the forge. They came to a large opening and could hear Blinky and Jim talking. She walked over and looked down to see that they were in the stands of the Hero’s Forge. River pulled herself up to sit on the stone wall, legs hanging over the side as Vendel stood next to her, watching Jim get pelted with rocks by Blinky and a stray rock by Arrrgh.

As Blinky was explaining the third rule of being a Trollhunter, hitting your opponents in the crotch, River caught a flash of blue from the cavern entrance, looking over to see Draal walking into the forge. “Ah! So, the Trollhunter’s training begins.” He states in an overly friendly tone, stalking towards Jim and Blinky, both growing nervous at Draal’s entrance. “I thought the great Trollhunter might accept my services as a sparring partner.” He bowed his head before hitting a fist against his open palm. “Part of your training regiment, isn’t it?” He asks, looking to Blinky.

“In due time, perhaps,” Blinky states quickly.

Vendel chuckled beside River, “Why wait?” He calls out, drawing everyone’s attention to them. River waved to Jim, Blinky, and Draal. “I am eager to see your charge demonstrate his mettle.” He states, leaning over the stone wall to peer down at Blinky.

Jim lifts his sword looking over it, “Actually, the sword is really made of, like, daylight.” He tells Vendel. River facepalmed as he says this, shaking her head. Jim looks confused at her reaction, Draal smirking.

Blinky leans over to Jim, “He means your ‘mettle’: your ability to cope in the face of adversity.”

“Oh,” Jim said, realization dawning his features. “Yeah, I’m still working on the whole ‘mettle’ part.” He chuckled, “Plus, you know, SAT words.”

River smiled as Jim jokes about his misunderstanding. Vendel chuckles, standing at full height again, “Let them spar,” he announces.

“No harm in it.” Draal stated, his smirk growing as he heads to the opposite side of the forge while Blinky glared at him. He took the side opposite of where Vendel and River were observing, grinning up at them.

River leaned over to Vendel, “Are you two messing with Jim? I can’t tell if this is a joke or your way of getting him killed.” she frowned, worried.

Vendel shook his head, “Draal will not kill him now, we must wait for the Soothscryer’s judgment, he knows this.” River nodded at his answer, relieved but nervous. “Though I cannot say he’ll walk away without injury.”

She huffed, “This is not going to end well, Jim’s never been in a fight, let alone having actually punched someone.”

Vendel chuckles. “Begin.”

They watched as Draal charged for Jim. Jim was barely able to move out of the way as Draal curled into a ball, hitting the ground hard where Jim was a moment ago before rolling up the side of the wall near Vendel and River. As he lands, dust and debris are kicked up, obscuring the fight. Next thing River can see is Jim getting thrown out of the dust cloud, Draal stalking over to him. He punched Jim three times, knocking him back towards the ledge. Draal picked him up and holding him over the ledge, threatening to drop him.

River’s blood ran cold, she looked to Vendel in shock, gripping the ledge tightly, her hands began to overheat and the bandages around her palms burnt away, the ledge she was sitting on shattered. Screaming as she felt the ledge disappear from underneath her, falling towards the forge floor quickly. She closed her eyes tight waiting for the impact.

Something hard hit her, but it was from the side as if a boulder was lobbed at her. Suddenly she could feel all movement cease. River chanced opening her eyes and all she could see was blue.

“River!” She hears Jim yell, the sound of metal boots running on stone. River looked up and saw the boulder that caught her was actually Draal.

He growled before setting her down. “Are you an idiot?!” He roared. “I knew you were untrained, but blasting yourself off a ledge?” He growls storming out of the forge.

River sat there in shock looking to Jim as he reached her. “What happened River?” He knelt next to her, worried.

“I…” she trailed off, looking over to ledge Draal was threatening to drop Jim over. “I thought he was going to drop you…” She looked up at Jim. “I was scared.”

Jim frowned, “Well he wasn’t going to, said he could wait till I fell in battle… When you screamed, he dropped me on the floor as he took off after you.” He sighed hugging her. “Are you okay?”

River nodded slowly, standing with his help she let out a groan. “I’m fine, other than getting hit with a living boulder.” She tried giving him a small smile to ease his worry.

Vendel came down from the viewing area, shaking his head as he approached them. “Maybe we should focus on controlling and channeling your magic instead. We don’t want a repeat of today during an actual battle.” He turns, waving for River to follow. “Trollhunter, you have much training to do.”

Jim frowned, hanging his head at his lack of skill. River pats his shoulder before following Vendel out of the arena. It was going to be a long night.

Once in his study, Vendel assessed the new damage done to her palms and rewrapped them while lecturing her on the improper use of magic. The rest of River’s night at Trollmarket, she and Vendel researched ways to get her magic under control. River was growing weary of reading about the great sorcerers of legend. Groaning she flopped back next to a pile of books. “The only thing these people have in common is some sort of staff or weapon. Even the types of magic they use are different.”

Vendel tilted his head at her outburst and hummed in thought. “Interesting.” He began looking over the pictures and journals they had been reading for hours. “Each sorcerer forged their own means of channeling their magic.” He hands her a sketch of Merlin holding a staff with a giant emerald at the top. “All of which are accompanied by a stone, cut for power.”

River took the picture, looking it over. “So, I need to make a weapon or staff with a giant stone somewhere in there. Just any stone?” she asked.

Vendel shook his head. “These stones were made by the sorcerer, channeling their magic into a condensed form, similar to how water flows and turns to ice. This will take a bit of thought and preparation.”

River nodded, thinking out loud. “I have to figure out how to control my magic enough to channel it into a crystalline state. The type of weapon will be important too, that could determine how I fight later on.”

Vendel gives her a small smile and nods. “Yes, but for now, you need rest. It is late after all, and with your magic awakening not long ago your body hasn’t had enough time to adjust from your human habits, like sleeping.”

River yawned before she could stop herself. “Also have to keep appearances up with mom. She’d lose it if she knew what was going on.” She grabbed her books and packed up. “I’ll be heading out then. Goodnight Master Vendel.” She called, heading to the entrance of Trollmarket.

As she reached the top of the crystal steps, she found Draal leaning against the wall that led to the canal, waiting. Waving to him with a smile “Hey Draal, um… thanks for earlier… you know, catching me and all.”

He huffed, looking over her freshly bandaged hands. “Let’s go.” He shakes his head walking out into the canal.

River stepped out, looking at Draal confused. “Vendel didn’t ask you to walk me.” She fell in step next to him as they headed for her house.

Draal smirked, glancing over at her, “Would you rather I leave you defenseless at night with Bular running around?” he asked. “You shouldn’t use your magic after Vendel wrapped your hands.”

River huffed crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly, “I can fight without magic just fine,” she stated, standing tall before mimicking fighting techniques she had seen in different animes. “though, I would need a staff or something to do actual damage.”

Draal tilted his head at River’s demonstration, “Have you thought of training with a lance?” he asks.

She hummed as they continued, “Actually, I’m supposed to start focusing on forging a weapon to lace with magic, do you think a lance is a good option?”

Draal nods, “the motions you just used are lance techniques.” He explained different types of weapons, and how one would fight with each type until they made it to the house.

River looked up at him with a tooth-bearing grin “Thanks Draal, your insight helped a lot, I think I know what I want to forge now.” He nodded, a small smirk on his face as he turned to leave. “Draal,” River called out quickly, he turned his head back slightly to look at her, “I really am grateful for your help today, with the weapons and for saving me in the forge.”

Draal was silent for a moment before nodding, the smirk turning into a small smile. “Try not to launch yourself off any ledges for a while, I don’t think I’ll be allowed near the Trollhunter’s training after today.”

She shook her head laughing, “Yeah, probably not. Night Draal.” She called out before heading inside, going straight to bed after a stressful night.

Jim and River had gotten up early, Saturday morning was busy for both of them. He had his first rehearsal of Romeo and Juliet and River was going to go over her designs and ideas for her new weapon with Vendel. They headed out together and split in the canals wishing each other luck.

River quickly ran down to Vendel’s study, waving to Draal as she passed him, excited to show Vendel what she came up with. “Master Vendel!” She grinned seeing him. “I know what I want to do!” River said, laying out drawings of a lance for him.

Vendel picked up the drawings and studied them, “A lance?” he hummed. “What are these scribbles in the shaft?” He pointed to the markings she drew in the staff.

“Crystalline veining,” River told him quickly. “that’s what I want to do with the magic I crystallize, grind it into a powder, and weave it through the entire lance. No other sorcerer has tried it before!”

Vendel chuckled, “It would be very flawed, though I don’t see why it couldn’t work, you would be using a large amount of magic to do this though.” He continued to study the drawings before setting them down, a small smile on his face. “A flawed weapon, for a flawed sorceress, it’s almost poetic.” He states before nodding. “We will begin working on harnessing your magic to channel it into crystals.” He walked further into the Heartstone, waving her along.

They entered the core of the Heartstone and he motioned River to the center. “Sit there, now explain to me how you pulled your magic to the surface, you’ve done it three times now.”

River sat with her legs crossed thinking, “two times I was frightened, I thought Jim was about to die, the third time it was defensive when Draal met Jim and tried to pull the amulet out of the armor. Well… it was more of an overwhelming desire.”

“A desire?” Vendel question, “What for?”

River opened her mouth and paused, thinking for a moment. “To protect… I wanted to protect Jim, even if it meant getting involved in the fight,” she answered.

Vendel simply nodded, “Try focusing on the desire to protect, shape that desire slowly, harden it, close your eyes and let it take form in your mind,” he instructed.

River sat up straight, closing her eyes quickly. She recalled the moments she used magic in her mind, focusing on the feelings, the desire to protect. As she focused, she felt her flesh begin to warm. Slowly, she took a deep breath, keeping the feeling of fear from the events in the back of her mind, focusing solely on protecting. An image of a blue glowing stream weaving through her mind appeared, like water flowing from many pools to create a single flow. As she followed the stream it slowly led her to a large jagged rock, forming from the water of the stream. Instead of reshaping it, River let it stay jagged and messy. She focused on the stream, willing it to flow faster. The longer she concentrated, the faster the flow became, until the jagged stone was complete and overflowing, branching into more stones. She continued, allowing the overflow, pushing as far as she could go.

Her eyes snapped open as she felt a shove. Looking up to see Vendel towering over her. “Did…” she frowned seeing a look of concern flash across his face. “Did I do it wrong?”

Vendel chuckled and stepped back. “You did everything properly,” he states. “Though you’ve been in a trance for most of the day now. I began to worry when yelling wasn’t enough to pull you out of it.”

River’s brow knit in confusion, “Most of the day? It only felt like an hour, if that.” She looked down hoping to see the crystal in her hands after all that, but she held nothing.

Vendel studied her expression for a moment, glancing behind her. “River, as you adjust to using your magic, everything around you will begin to feel as if it’s racing by. You no longer exist in the humans’ concept of time. Your aging will be that of a Trolls’, Merlin is centuries old and still considered young.” Vendel explained her time-lapse, causing her to frown. “Though I can’t remedy time, I can tell you to turn around.”

She looked up at him in question but decided to do as told. Turning, her eyes widened as they met the sapphire crystal she had seen in her mind, it ended up taller than her standing height. River looked around to see eleven smaller crystals as well, just as jagged and messy as the giant formation in front of her. “It was large in my mind but… I didn’t know it would be the same when formed.” She walked around it slowly, studying it. “Is it too much?”

Vendel laughed shaking his head, “One of the smaller crystals you made will be enough,” he chuckled coming to stand next to her, “this just shows how much magic you’ve been storing. We can keep these here. We may find a use for them as your studies advance. Choose a crystal and we can begin work on your weapon.”

River grinned quickly looking over all the crystals, as she walks through them, she chuckled seeing one that had a similar formation to the crystals on Draal’s back. “I’m taking this one home,” she stated before grabbing two more of similar sizes. “I’ll use one of these.”

Vendel nodded as she packed the crystals in the black satchel, he had given her. “Come, we should choose a metal for the lance.”

“How about steel?” River asked, walking with Vendel to a weapons forge. “It’s the strongest metal after all.”

Vendel hummed in thought, “I don’t see why not, you’ll have to build your strength to wield it. We will have to treat iron to produce it.”

River gave a quick nod in response. They began setting up the weapons forge, selecting the iron to create the steel, Vendel refusing to let her handle it before treatment. River focused on grinding the crystal she made into a fine powder. As they worked on the shaft hours went by. River texted Barbara to let her know that she was staying with a friend to help with a school project, not a total lie, Vendel was friendly enough, this was an important project, and she was learning a lot.

Adding the crystal powder as Vendel instructed into the liquid metal took a lot of patience on her part. Working into the early hours of the morning they finally finished the shaft of the lance, cooling it off.

River slumped down near the table they used to hold the powdered crystal, exhausted as it was now midmorning, a day later. Vendel extracted the cooled shaft and began to polish it, chuckling as River was nodding off in her corner.

She awoke later in the afternoon, a long rod-like object sitting next to her, wrapped in cloth.

“I started working on the blades, you have an eye for weaponry River,” Vendel said as he was carving glyphs into a large crystal war hammer.

River groaned grabbing the wrapped weapon next to her, slowly stretching as she stood. “Thank you, Master Vendel.” She approached where he was working and saw several freshly made and sharpened blades on the table near the cooling vat. Each blade was slightly different, slightly flawed, and to her they were perfect. She grinned and hugged Vendel, excited about the weapon. Realizing what she just did she pulled back quickly, looking down. “Um, sorry… I’m just… I’m really excited.”

She heard a chuckle, then a large hand was patting her head. “It is good to be excited about your accomplishments. Why don’t you try adding the blade to the shaft?” He nudged her to the blades before he continued to work.

River nodded quickly, going to the table and looking over each blade carefully before choosing one. She unwrapped the staff, pausing to stare at it, seeing it fully polished, veins of glowing sapphire running through it, similar to the pools of magic she saw in her mind. Smiling she slid the blade into place and secured it with a black leather strap.

“I added enchantments to the blades so the lance will collapse when not in use,” Vendel spoke. “Go test it on the Trollhunter, he should be here soon.”

River thanked him again before running off to find Jim. She found Jim and Toby heading into one of the Troll bars a determined look etched over Jim’s face. As she walked in after them, she saw him challenging Draal to a rematch. She let out a sigh at the interaction. Something told her this wasn’t going to end well.

#trollhunters draal #DraalxOC #DraalxRiver #Trollhunters #trollhunters fanfiction #trollhuntersoc #trollhunters oc #River Marie Lake #River Marie Wyllt #AAARRRGGHH!!!#blinkousgaladrigal #jameslakejr #tobydomzalski #trollmarket #Wherefore art though trollhunter #episode 3

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littlemarvelfics · 5 years

Text

Whatever Comes Next

Pairing: Bucky x Reader and Steve x Reader (platonic-ish)

Word Count: about 3k

Warnings: cheating, swears

Square Filled: K4: Office/Corporate AU for @buckybarnesbingo

A/N: I’m so bad at timing. Were all these supposed to be spread out? Yes. Did I not realize that May 31 and June 1 were one after the other? Apparently not. But this is my entry for @buckysforeverprincess Hop Into Spring challenge! The prompt is bolded below. This was gonna be fluff and then… shit got weird. But I hope you still enjoy! Please send in requests!

You stood in your five-year-old daughter's room, flipping through her clothes until you found a suitable outfit. Your little family had been planning on seeing the Easter bunny at the mall for weeks now but Bucky kept canceling and Becca didn’t want to go without him, claiming she was nervous about it. You understood completely, in the pictures of you and the Easter bunny from your childhood, you look terrified- standing as far away from him as possible, while still being in the frame. Your daughter came bouncing into her room and flopped on her bed.

“What do ya think of this dress bug?” you asked her, holding up the slightly poofy dress with a vintage floral pattern on it.

“Yay!” she exclaimed, giving you a thumbs up.

You returned her gesture before hanging the dress on the back of her closet door and ushering her into the bathroom to give her a quick bath before the two of you got ready. You washed her quickly and brushed out her brown hair that looked almost exactly like Bucky’s and set her up with her favorite TV show on the iPad while you got ready. You styled your hair and started on your makeup when you felt a tap on your leg. You looked down at your blue-eyed daughter and smiled.

“Yes?” you questioned.

“Can I sit with you and watch you put your makeup on?”

You chuckled as you lifted her up onto the counter. Becca crossed her legs and watched intently as you applied your makeup quickly, giving her a kiss on her cheek when you finished your lipstick, causing her to burst out into giggles.

“How are my girls?” Bucky asked, suddenly appearing in the doorway. You had to admit, even after being together for nearly ten years, he still took your breath away. He had on a navy blue suit, his light blue shirt slightly open at the collar.

“Daddy!” Becca squealed, wiggling off the counter and running into her father’s legs, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

You squeezed past them into your room, running into the closet to grab your outfit for the day, a long-sleeved floral dress that stopped below your knees and some white flats.

“Let's get a picture with the Easter bunny!” you cheered, trying to hype up your daughter who was now balanced on Bucky’s hip.

“Yeah… about that…” Bucky started with a grimace.

You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself down, you didn’t want to fight in front of Becca.

“Becca baby? Will you go get mommy’s phone from downstairs? And then wait in the kitchen?”

She smiled at you and Bucky kissed her head before setting her down. You watched her run down the stairs before turning your attention back to Bucky.

“Are you kidding me Bucky?! Again?!” you said, not trying to hide your annoyance.

“It’s work baby! If I don’t go close the Stark deal I’m done for. The proposal is this week. I gotta go!” he defended.

“It’s always work and you always have to go! What am I gonna do here huh? She wants her dad there with her today and you’re just gonna bail on her?!” you said, venom lacing your words.

Bucky just stood there staring at you, seemingly waiting for you to tire yourself out but you were far from done.

“Are you going to say anything? Or are you just gonna stand there? Just be her dad when you decide it’s convenient? It doesn’t fucking work like that James,” you seethed. “I cannot keep living like this. Becca can’t keep living like this. You have got to figure out who you’re gonna be in this Bucky. I’m tired of being a married single-parent. You need to make a choice.”

You pushed past him and went to find Becca. You found her sitting at the kitchen table playing with your phone and heard the front door slam- Bucky had left. You took a deep breath and prepared to put on your best fake smile when Becca spoke up.

“Daddy isn’t coming?”

You could see the tears threatening to fall down her face and you immediately crouched down beside her.

“He’s gotta work bug. But how about this, you wanna call Uncle Steve and see if he’ll come with us?”

Becca seemed to perk up at the mention of her favorite uncle, not that you would ever tell Sam that Steve was her favorite. You took your phone from her and got ready to dial.

“Do you wanna ask him or should I?”

“I wanna!” Becca replied quickly. You hit the call button and handed the phone over.

“Uncle Steve? It’s Becca!”

You couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation but whatever Steve said made her giggle.

“Will you please come to meet the Easter bunny with me and mommy?”

It didn’t take long for a full smile to spread across her face as she mumbled an ‘okay’ and handed the phone to you.

“He wants to talk to you.”

“Hey Stevie,” you said.

“Why are you making that kid meet the Easter bunny. He’s terrifying,” he said without preamble.

“I dunno. Family memories or some garbage. Will you come with us? She’s nervous and having her Uncle Steve come along might help.”

“Of course I’ll come. You know I’d do anything for that kid, including see the spooky bunny.”

“You are an absolute lifesaver! We’re leaving in a few minutes, I’ll text you the address?”

He agreed and you hung up your phone, quickly texting him where you were heading. You grabbed your purse and strapped Becca into her car seat and set off towards the mall. The two of you sang her favorite songs from The Little Mermaid the entire way, stopping only when your phone interrupted with a text from Steve, letting you know he was in the parking lot. About five minutes later, you pulled into a spot and smiled when you saw Steve getting out of his car two rows over. You hopped out as he jogged over, quickly beating you to the side of the car where Becca was humming to herself in her car seat. Steve quickly opened the door and you heard Becca’s excited squeal when she saw Steve. Steve unbuckled her and picked her up carrying her over to you. You reached out to grab her but she turned away from you and buried her face in Steve’s neck.

“I’ve been betrayed by my own daughter,” you scoffed sarcastically.

“Yeah well, she knows who the fun one is,” Steve replied.

You leaned towards Steve and gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek. You took a moment to admire how he was dressed, a sweater over his checkered shirt, paired with a black tie and black pants. It suddenly dawned on you that he probably had other plans.

“Oh my God Steve.”

“Oh my God what?” he asked.

“Did you have plans today?! I cannot believe-”

“Woah, slow down,” he said, cutting you off. “I didn’t have plans and even if I did I would drop them for the two of you in a second.”

You breathed a sigh of relief and gestured for Steve to lead the way into the mall. He looked over at you briefly while you were distracted on your phone. He meant it when he said he would do anything for you and Becca. He cared for the two of you more than he would ever admit. You were his best friend’s girl but even Steve could see that Bucky hadn’t been as prepared for fatherhood as he thought. So Steve had stepped up, doing everything he could to make sure you and Becca knew that you had someone to turn to if things got too rough.

The three of you quickly found yourself in a line of parents and children, some of whom were crying. Other kids were screaming and a select few were quietly waiting their turn. Steve put Becca down to let her explore and so he could talk to you with some semblance of privacy.

“You know I’m overjoyed to be here,” he said, slight sarcasm coating his words. “But why isn’t Buck here?”

“Work,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

“Work?” Steve questioned. “What work? It’s Sunday. They would have called me too if something had happened.”

Steve and Bucky held nearly identical positions at Sheild, a tech company founded by Nick Fury. They were essentially both second in command.

“I dunno. He said he had to work on the Stark deal for this week.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about Steve? I don’t work there!”

“The Stark deal already closed…” he replied carefully. “I don’t know why he said that. But the deal was done last week, even the drop period ended.”

“So why is he at the office?” you pressed.

“I swear, I have no idea,” Steve defended.

“You would tell me if you knew something right?”

“Of course I would! I don’t know why he would say he’s at the office.”

“Steve… I need you to be honest with me right now,” you started. “Is he cheating on me?”

“I’m always honest. I could never lie to you. That being said, I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything to me but even he knows telling me would be a dumb move.”

You silently looked off to the side, avoiding Steve’s gaze. You had been worried that something was going on with someone else. Bucky had been staying at the office later and more often than usual. You knew Steve wouldn’t lie to you but you also couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that something was wrong.

“Mommy!” Becca yelled, bringing your attention back to her. “Look! Bunnies!”

You followed her finger and sure enough, there were three or four white bunnies in a little pen in the middle of the chaos. Ever the curious kid, Becca started pestering you with questions. She finally landed on one you weren’t ready for.

“Why do they have bunnies here?”

You could clearly see they were meant to be sold, something you already didn’t agree with. But you also didn’t want Becca to know they were available to take home, knowing she would spend the foreseeable future begging you for one.

“They’re um…” you trailed off, searching for an answer that wouldn’t end in you taking home a bunny.

“They’re the Easter Bunny's helpers, Bec,” Steve chimed in.

Becca gave Steve a skeptical look.

“I don’t believe you. Why would the Easter bunny need helpers?”

“Well,” Steve said, crouching down to Becca’s height. “The Easter bunny has to get around just like Santa does right?”

Becca gave him a nod of confirmation, although she still looked skeptical.

“These bunnies are his helpers, like how Santa has elves!”

Becca looked between Steve and the bunnies a few times before nodding and smiling at him.

“How do you know so much stuff?” Becca asked Steve.

“Because I’m a grownup. But no one knows more than your mom.”

“She’s the smartest,” Becca confirmed.

“That’s exactly right,” Steve said with a chuckle.

Before you knew it, it was your turn to sit with the Easter Bunny. He waved at Becca who instantly grabbed Steve’s hand and shuffled closer to him.

“It’s okay Becs! All those other kids did it,” you tried comforting.

“No,” she mumbled, pressing into Steve’s legs. You rubbed her back and looked up at Steve, already accepting defeat.

“Hey Becs,” he said, crouching down to look her in the eye. “Why don’t you go up there with your mom? It’ll probably make you feel better.”

“You too,” Becca whispered.

Steve looked over at you and you nodded enthusiastically.

“Okay, c’mon!” he cheered, picking her up and walking her over to the bunny. You walked over to the seat and smiled at the bunny, still a little uneasy around them. Steve handed you Becca and you perched yourselves on the arm of the chair next to the Easter Bunny and Steve came up behind you, rubbing your arm to calm you down.

The three of you smiled for the picture and it was all over quickly. You picked Becca back up and carried her over to the photo counter to make your purchases. You admired the picture of the three of you, Becca looked adorable and Steve looked handsome as always. You looked like a family- except you weren’t. Your husband was off doing God knows what and you were here with his best friend. It should have felt wrong. But looking at that picture and thinking back on all the times Steve had been there for you and Becca, all the things Bucky had missed out on but Steve had been there for, it felt natural.

“Hey,” Steve said, lightly touching your elbow. “You okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Why?”

“Because I mentioned ice cream and you’re not frothing at the mouth,” he said with a chuckle.

“Actually, can you do me a huge favor?” you asked, getting an idea.

“Can you take my car and take Becca to ice cream? I’ll meet the two of you over there in a little bit?”

“What are you gonna do?” Steve questioned worriedly.

“I’m gonna swing by the office real quick. Just check in on Bucky.”

“I’m not sure you wanna do that…” he said.

“I do Steve. I do want to do this. I have to know. I really have to know what’s going on. I can’t just keep wondering!”

“Okay, alright. I’ll take Becs for ice cream. But please be careful,” he warned.

You and Steve walked Becca out to the car, she was so excited about ice cream with Steve that she wasn’t even worried that you weren’t with them. You gave her a kiss on the head and hugged Steve, promising you would be to the ice cream shop soon.

As you drove over to the office building where Bucky worked, you couldn’t help the building feeling of dread that was building in your stomach. When you met Bucky, you thought you had met the man that you would spend the rest of your life with. Now you weren’t so sure. The past few years had been hard, something had shifted between you and Bucky and neither of you knew how to get back on track, not that either of you had really tried talking about it.

Before you knew it and probably before you were ready, you were pulling into the parking lot of the office building. You used the badge Bucky had given you years ago to get into the building without having to buzz up.

You quickly made your way through the office building, walking into the elevator and pushing the button for Bucky’s floor. The doors opened and you quietly stepped out. All the lights were off except for one, the light in Bucky’s office. Maybe he was working after all and just got jumbled with who’s contract he was working on. As you neared the closed door, your stomach dropped. A girlish giggle followed by some low murmurs made your entire body tense. Before you could chicken out, you whipped open his office door.

Bucky was leaning against his desk, wrinkled clothes haphazardly throw on while his secretary, Jill, was standing between his legs with her arms around his waist and her lips on his neck.

“Really Bucky?!” you yelled, causing him to jump and push Jill away. “Your fucking secretary?! Could this be any more cliche right now?!”

“Baby… what are you doing here?” he said, moving towards you.

You took a step back and threw your hands up in surrender.

“Don’t touch me. Keep your goddamn hands off me.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jill gathering her things hastily and preparing to exit.

“Nope, you stay,” you said with a false smile. “You stay Jill. I’m leaving.”

You turned your attention back to Bucky.

“I want you out of the house. I don’t care where you go but you’re not coming home to me.”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky said, trying once again to reach out for you.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t be enough for you anymore Bucky. I’m sorry that me and your daughter weren’t enough.”

With that, you turned around and left, closing the door behind you and jogging to the elevator. You made it in and when the doors closed, your tears began to fall. You felt stupid. How could you not have seen this coming? You briefly wondered how long it had been going on but quickly pushed the thought away; none of the answers would make you feel better. You got back into Steve’s car and after confirming that they were still at the ice cream shop, you set off in that direction. The sunlight hit your wedding ring, drawing your attention to it. You glared at it for a moment before pulling it off and throwing it in your purse.

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t realize you were at your destination. You took a deep breath and leaned your head on the steering wheel. You couldn’t think about the disaster that was your marriage right now. You needed to be a mom first. You wiped your eyes and got out of the car, walking into the ice cream shop and searching for Becca and Steve.

“Mommy!” Becca yelled from her spot on Steve’s lap.

You walked over and sat across from them, kissing Becca’s head as you went. Steve watched you carefully. He could tell something was wrong and when he saw your naked ring finger, he knew. Steve reaches out and squeezed your hand that was laying on the table. You gave him a shaky smile and squeezed back. Steve didn’t care if Bucky was his best friend. He would be there for you no matter what came next.

#hopintospring3K #Bucky Barnes bingo 2019 #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes writing #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #cheating

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thethoughtsfromthreeam · 4 years

Text

California

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x OC

Warnings: None

A/N: Parts 11 and 12/13 run concurrently but from different points of view, so when you see Several Days Later, it’s all happening on the same day. And at last murder answers!

Also, shout out to @mandoandyodito cause their reaction gifs have been killing me over the last week.

Reminder: I haven’t seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle, so I’m just using the Wikia, IMDB.com, some gifs, and my own weird ass brain to make up this whole ass story.

Tag List: @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @tarrevizslas , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 [please message me to be added or subtracted]

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5] [PART 6] [PART 7] [PART 8] [PART 9] [PART 10]

Chapter 11

Final Pieces

She stayed like that until she watched the life fade from his eyes and his body stilled. He was dead and it was done. When she was sure of it, she got up and turned back to Jack. He was staring at her with a dazed look in his eyes. Dropping the gun, she hurried over to him, falling to her knees between his legs. Her hands came up and gripped his face.

“Jack.” She whispered it so low that only he could hear it, fearing that he may not love her anymore. Not after he watched her kill a man in cold blood. She didn’t know if she could live without him in her world. The elation that her pain was at an end abruptly left her at the idea of having nothing for her on the other side of it all.

“Marigold.”

She nearly missed it, but when the sound reached her ears, her eyes flew up and looked into his. Behind the dazed look was love and admiration. He didn’t hate her or fear her or whatever else her brain conjured up in those few moments. No.

Jack loved her and he was proud as hell that this woman he loved so much saved her own self from the nightmare that nipped at her heels for five years. He reached up and grasped her face before slamming his lips against hers. Their kiss was a heady mix of desperation, admiration, and love.

In those moments, when Port was strangling him, Jack didn’t feel fear at his situation. Instead, he felt deep despair that he’d may never see his Marigold again and that he was leaving her alone without him. But now, all that dissipated as he felt his love for her coursing through his veins.

When they broke apart, both had tears in their eyes and wide smiles. She grabbed his wrists and held them. Their small moment was interrupted as Champ unleashed the agents. Ginger and Tequila rushed over and dropped to their knees, wrapping their arms around the duo, and they collapsed into a laughing heap of limbs. Ginger kissed Shirley on the cheek and cried. Tequila grabbed her and held her close.

“Darling, I told you that you could shoot the pitcher. Didn’t me and Whiskey train you right?” His joking tone was roughed by his tears. The four sat there for long moments holding onto each other as other agents came in and cleared the scene. Champ turned to Merlin, who was standing next to him.

“Can you stay a little longer? I’m going to need help with the West Coast crew when they get here and I’m a little ashamed to say, I don’t want to break up that party.” He pointed at the crew with his thumb. Merlin smiled while he nodded and walked out with Champ to debrief some HQ agents and prep for West Coast.

Snuggled in the arms of her friends, Shirley looked up and caught Jack staring at her, grinning stupidly. Certainly, one that matched her own. She mouthed something at him, and his smile got impossibly bigger. He mouthed back to her.

“You and me and marigolds. Always.”

---***---

Several Days Later

“The report came back, Ginger. I think we got a hit on who Agent Port really was.” Merlin walked over with the paper he printed off. Statesman Austin had sent over a file on a missing agent who went by code name Kirsch. Ginger took the paper from him and looked at the picture. She grimly looked up at Merlin, who nodded back.

When they read the report, much of it was redacted. Ginger realized they needed the whole thing in order to tie up this case and close it once and for all. She grabbed the phone on her desk and hit the button for Champ’s office.

“Champ, I need you to call Austin and tell them to send me the unredacted files for an Agent Kirsch.” Ginger told him the picture looked exactly like the dead man in the morgue. He put her on hold before dialing down to his Texas brethren. After giving them a verbal beat down, he got back on the line with Ginger.

“Check in five minutes, it should be all there. I swear to god, I’m going to fire that whole ass office myself once of these days. I never liked Agent Rum, too damned arrogant for my liking. And now his staff is starting to act that way. I swear God is challenging me every time I gotta call them.” Champ ended his rant with a swig of bourbon. “If it didn’t make me look like a complete asshole, I’d make ‘em put Mezcal in charge. Now that’s a damn agent worth something.”

“Yes, Champ.” Ginger smiled into the phone. Something about this conversation felt like old times, before California. To be happy a man is dead may seem crass, but she was elated. The invisible cloud that hung over their little group was finally dissipating. She hung up when Merlin signaled the arrival of the case file.

As the two skimmed the contents, Merlin whistled low under his breath. The unredacted files told the story of a man who loved pain. Reports of him hurting fellow recruits in training, of causing physical harm in exercises, and plenty of them indicated that he was extremely violent towards suspects and even witnesses. His entire history was a red flag and Austin ignored the whole thing.

Champ was right. These guys were assholes.

---***---

Merlin threw the files up on the screen and together the two specialists worked to rethink their timeline. At least thirty victims had been identified by Ginger, Tequila, and Chai over the years and ever since the microdrive came back into play a few months ago, over forty other possible names were given to HQ by other Statesmen offices. Most of these were missing recruits, agents, and even retirees.

Ginger and Tequila took over the California case weeks after they returned to Kentucky. With the limited information that Shirley had sent in, they slowly rebuilt the file load as best they could. West Coast and Jackson Hole cooperated, but the work was slow. It seemed that the killer could wait months between murders, and they were certain there were more victims out there.

For over four years they pecked at the case when they could and when information came in, but it mostly stagnated until Shirley revealed the location of the microdrive. That kicked the event into high gear, but they didn’t realize their dogged pursuit would bring the killer so close.

That drive also gave Ginger a personal win – she had suspected since the night they rescued Shirley that the person they were looking for was a Statesman and that he was keeping an eye on the case. All the notes in Shirley’s internal report log drew the same conclusions, but she was stumped at how he was able to go undetected for so long given how wide his killing area seemed to be – all of California, Oregon, and Washington, as well as parts of Wyoming. As active as a killer as he was, Statesmen were still bound by their jobs and would be tracked in the field. But questions always have answers and they will come eventually.

---***---

“Oh my god. . .” Chai sucked in her breath and looked up at Tequila. “T, you need to look at this.” He leaned over at the two files she was looking at and read them. One was the death report of an agent from their Chicago office that went by the code name Pilsner. The other was a report filed by Pilsner at the Jackson Hole office. He looked at her – that first report was dated three months before the field report in her hands.

“Ging, I think we got something.” Chai called out. Ginger looked over at her co-worker. “Pull every missing or dead agent, I need the list, I think I found how he was going undetected.”

With the tap of her fingers, fifteen faces popped up on the screen, including Pilsner and Port. Neither looked like the man killed just days before. Chai ran a search on the names and on her screens pulled up their field reports. Tequila pointed out seven names besides the two they had found that filed field reports after they were reported dead.

Merlin moved back to his computer and pulled up the personnel files for every Statesman office. Given the rather narrow naming scheme the offices use, it is not uncommon for several agents to take on the same code name in succession. If the office was doing the work correctly, there will be a timeline of when the code name was in use. He pulled the names he was looking for and the dates were cross referenced to the time frame they now built.

“Look at this.” Said Merlin. “He was taking on the dead agents’ names after he killed them, but only if they were declared dead, but not in the line of duty, which would then alert other Statesman offices of the change. If the name wasn’t put back into use right away, then he could modify his credentials within the system. You have so many offices that its likely no one was paying attention to an Agent Port or Pilsner showing up to work a case. It’s how he could still access everything in Statesman and not get caught.”

“I bet you’re right, Merlin,” Said Tequila. “I know all the front desk does is scan our cards when we arrive at an office, but beyond that, nothing else. He clearly has the tech smarts to hide most of his tracks, but it sounds like he was relying on holes in the operating system to cover the rest.”

“Yeah, well it worked. The Pilsner reports are from three years ago and it seems like we’re the only ones just catching all of this.” Replied Chai. She shifted the files onto the main screen and let the computer put them in the timeline. The four of them looked at each other and then back to the wall. Their timeline just got a lot easier as more pieces fell into place. Ginger walked over to the phone and called Champ back.

“This case will be closed today, want to come watch?”

“I’ll be right down.”

#agent whiskey #jack daniels #pedro pascal #kingsman: the golden circle #fanfic #agent whiskey x oc #agent whiskey x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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prince-claremont-diaz · 4 years

Text

A Shout into Silence

Summary: Arthur hits a breaking point over his hearing and decides to escape to the place he went with his friends a few weeks ago... Only he isn't alone.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: angst i guess?

Ao3 version

A Shout into Silence

It had been over three weeks now since his hearing was almost fully gone. Every day he woke up, Arthur hoped for some sign that his hearing was back: the distant sound of dishes clanging, footsteps outside his door, his parents talking in the kitchen… But every day, now, Arthur woke up to the very same silence he woke up to lying on the cold damp ground of the alleyway a few weeks back. Every day he was forced to confront the fact that he still couldn't hear the rest of the noisy world he lived in.

He remembers vividly the day he lost the hearing in his left ear over 2 years ago, the way it felt like someone had flipped a switch in his brain and no sound was entering on that side. One moment, he could hear everything clearly and then in the next terrifying moment, half of it was stripped away.

As the days trailed on silently, resolutely, dismally, he felt himself moving farther and farther away. He could feel himself inching away from the rest of the world, drifting to a separate planet, another universe away from everything else he used to know. Sure, his friends were still around and still tried their hardest to include him in everything, but it wasn't the same. He still felt like he was standing on the other side of a glass wall, looking in at the rest of the world, unable to know what they were saying properly.

Arthur felt himself snap one evening as he stared at the endless crosses on his calendar, marking out exactly how long it had been since he could hear. With tears burning his eyes and a sob working its way in the back of his throat, Arthur tore the calendar off the wall, throwing it angrily across the room. He watched it hit the wall and slide down, landing haphazardly with the crossed out pages lying supine and mockingly up at him.

Moving closer to the precipice, Arthur slipped out of the house without his parents noticing, without another word.

He pulled his olive green jacket closer around himself, pulling the hood up to hide his face as he hurried along the pavement. The bright lights blinded him slightly and the winter breeze tickled his skin. He was only partly aware of where his feet were carrying him, letting them guide him towards an unknown end.

As time rolled on and the sky grew darker and darker, Arthur began to recognise the buildings around him even more. He knew exactly where he was heading and picked up his pace, looking over his shoulder every few seconds as he was forced to go through a side alley in order to get there. The pavement under his feet was harsh against his heavy footsteps, wobbly on loose stones.

Finally, Arthur reached a small clearing of trees overhanging a beaten down gravel trail. Pushing aside a low hanging branch, Arthur stepped into the clearing and made his way along the narrow path until he reached a large abandoned storage unit of sorts. It was completely empty apart from a couple of stray bottles of alcohol and small bits of rubble, the only sign of life being the graffiti adorning the walls. Arthur crossed the small building and back out into an open courtyard of sorts, crossing towards yet another abandoned building.

However, by the time he got there, Arthur realised it wasn't as abandoned as he thought.

Just as he was about to step through the clearing, he saw the unmistakable flash of a camera near the far side of the wall. Arthur paused, holding his breath to wait for any other movement. Another flash, this time slightly closer. Whoever was taking pictures was getting closer and closer to the entrance, closer and closer to Arthur.

Arthur was just about to turn around and leave, make his way back home, when he caught sight of the person taking the photos.

Squatting with a black camera and a familiar large black hoodie was none other than Arthur's good friend Eliott Demaury.

Arthur moved across the threshold finally and Eliott, engrossed in his camera as he was, startled slightly, falling backwards in fright and landing on his butt on the concrete floor. "Shit!" he exclaimed, holding onto his camera for dear life and looking up at Arthur. His face moved from shocked to relieved to concerned in less than a second. "Arthur!" Eliott shouted, quickly scrambling to his feet with his cheeks flushed a vibrant pink shade.

"Sorry! I wasn't expecting to run into you here," Arthur said, holding his hands up and smiling apologetically. "I-I can just go if you like—" he began, pointing his thumb over his shoulder and turning his body towards the exit. He never should have come here in the first place, or at least should have left when he saw that Eliott was there. He was clearly busy and Arthur was just getting in the way.

Eliott shook his head quickly and said something Arthur couldn't quite catch. As if reading his mind, Eliott's eyes widened almost comically and he slapped his forehead. He held one of his fingers up and mouthed—or more likely said, Arthur realised too late— "One second." Eliott pulled his camera off and shoved it inside his backpack which was sitting in the centre of the room, fumbling around the depths of the bag for a moment. Finally, Eliott's hands reappeared from inside the bag, his left hand clutching his mobile phone.

Arthur watched as Eliott typed something quickly into the notes app of his phone, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Without another word, Eliott passed the phone to Arthur, fixing him with a worried-looking frown. Arthur cleared his throat and read what was written on the screen:

are you okay? you look… off.

Arthur passed the phone back. "I'm fine. I just wanted to come back here since it was fun last time I came here," Arthur replied dismissively, hoping Eliott would simply believe him. Although, a small part of himself almost hoped Eliott could read him and would just know. But he wasn't sure he was ready for that kind of vulnerability.

Eliott typed something once again and passed the phone back.

are you sure? i know what "fine" looks like and it doesn't usually look like this

"Gee thanks."

Eliott's eyes widened again, somewhat frantic as he pulled the phone back. "That's not what I meant!" he said, thumbs moving furiously over the keyboard.

i just mean that if you need to talk about it, you can. i can tell that something is bothering you and believe me, i know what it's like to want to talk about something that i held in for ages

Arthur's vision began to blur with tears as he read over Eliott's message once, twice, three times. Of course Eliott would understand. Arthur looked up at Eliott, tears stinging his eyes and clinging to his eyelashes. Arthur flailed slightly, trying to come up with the right words to convey what he wanted to say without sounding stupid or confusing. As he began to speak, he was interrupted by a small sob and suddenly found himself buried in Eliott's embrace.

Arthur broke down completely, clutching onto the back of Eliott's sweatshirt while he felt Eliott's hand rubbing up and down his back in a soothing fashion. Arthur tucked his face into his shoulder, soaking the dark fabric as his whole body shook with the tears he had been holding in for weeks–months even. Like a pot set to boiling point, the lid bursting off with the pressure of it all as everything became entirely unbearable. With one small hug from his friend, Arthur finally allowed himself a release, finally let himself let go as he cried into Eliott's shirt.

After a couple of minutes standing in the middle of the emptiness of the big storage space, Eliott pulled back, tapping Arthur on the shoulder to get his attention. He gestured towards a small ledge at the side of the room and led him over to it, sitting down next to him. Arthur took a gulping breath of the freezing cold air around them and leaned back against the graffitied wall of the building. He distantly noted the familiar orange message he himself had sprayed a few weeks ago, just next to where they sat together now.

Eliott tapped his elbow, holding out his phone which Arthur hadn't even noticed Eliott was typing on again.

do you want to talk about it? or we can just sit here, if you like.

Arthur sighed heavily as he handed the mobile back. Eliott didn't say anything, simply sliding his phone into the pocket of his hoodie and watching Arthur thoughtfully. Arthur could feel him reading his every look, watching his facial expressions like he could read his thoughts from every change, every twitch, every blink. But somehow, Arthur didn't feel as uncomfortable about it as he might usually.

"I'm just sick and tired of this. Of everything," Arthur started, gesturing vaguely around himself, "Nothing feels the same anymore. I just feel so alone even when you are all around me. And even though you guys try to include me as much as you can, it's not the same anymore and I just feel like such an outsider. I keep waking up hoping my hearing will be back to normal but every day it still isn't and… and I just hate it. I'm so tired of feeling like some sort of alien because of this fucking thing with my ears!

"And I can never talk about it with anyone because my dad chooses not to believe me even though he's a fucking surgeon. He wants me to be just like him, all perfect and smart and, fuck, everything I'm not," Arthur rambled, using his hands instinctively, gesturing madly. Eliott was watching him closely, nodding to show he was listening. "He wants me to be a surgeon too and I thought I did too, but now I'm not so sure. And I feel like I've disappointed both of my parents for being like this and I'll be even more of a fuck up if I don't become a doctor like they've always wanted me to be. I'm not their perfect little boy anymore and I don't think I have been for a long long time…"

Eliott frowned, pulling his phone out to write something in reply once again.

i'm sure they're not disappointed in you. and certainly not for having a disability.

Arthur shook his head. "That's the thing! My dad makes it very clear that I disappoint him daily. And before I lost my hearing, he was always so uptight about every little test mark and always making sure I never slipped up for anything," he replied, "I can't do anything right, especially now. I can't hear what anyone is saying to me and the only way anyone can actually talk to me is through the fucking Notes app or texting and I just feel like such a burden." Eliott gave him a look and started to type again but Arthur pushed his hand away. "I know, I know, you don't care that you have to do this, but I do. I feel bad that everyone has to put extra effort in just to include me in a simple conversation. I hate when someone says something aloud and everyone else laughs and I don't understand it because I didn't hear it. I hate that I'm constantly just stuck in this silence when everything else in the world is so loud, but I can't even hear most of it.

"You guys are all so willing to help me out and it makes me feel like such a burden on everyone else. Everything is just so fucked up it makes me want to just scream," Arthur explained, voice nearly hoarse from talking so much. He hardly talked anymore, hating the fact he had to put extra effort just to hear himself speak.

Eliott passed the phone back again.

so why don't you?

When Arthur turned back to Eliott, eyebrows knitted together in confusion, he was wearing a devilish, almost challenging smile. He took his phone away from Arthur and slid it back inside his jacket as he got to his feet. He gestured for Arthur to follow and they walked back out into the open space between the different storage units. Still smiling, he gestured around them.

"I'm sorry… I don't get it."

Eliott pointed his finger and seemed to clear his throat. And then, closing his eyes, Eliott opened his mouth and shouted out into the night. Arthur stumbled back in surprise as Eliott seemed to shout from the very bottom of his toes, voice carrying all the way around them in an echo of himself. When he opened his eyes once again, he gestured to Arthur, urging him to do the same.

Without a second thought, Arthur grinned just as wide as Eliott was doing and screamed as loud as he could. Eliott joined in again and suddenly the two boys were standing out in the middle of an abandoned industrial estate, shouting out into the darkness like absurd birds shrieking into the sky.

"SHOUT SOMETHING!" Eliott shouted, turning to him, still beaming.

"LIKE WHAT?"

"ANYTHING!" Eliott replied. He turned his face up to the night's sky and shouted, "I'M AFRAID OF FAILING!"

"I'M AFRAID OF DISAPPOINTING MY FAMILY!"

Eliott glanced at him, tilting his head. "I'M AFRAID OF HURTING LUCAS EVERY DAY!"

Back and forth, Arthur and Eliott screamed their innermost thoughts and fears for the all the stars above to hear. They shouted anything and everything, holding back nothing as they shouted about anything from fears to stupid jokes to random swears. Arthur's voice was beginning to crack and fray at the edges from screaming so much, burning slightly as it grew more and more hoarse with every scream into the void.

But Arthur didn't even care.

Arthur didn't care that he was losing his voice. He didn't care about anything besides the stars twinkling above them, watching over the two boys as they listened to the words they said. They were just two boys who were both slightly broken, just a little cracked at the edges, shouting their fears for the universe to hear. As the moon shined down on them, the man in the moon seemed to smile at their antics, as if it could truly hear them. Logically, Arthur knew it was absurd to think. How could the moon, which was just a big rock spinning around the earth, actually hear their shouts, no matter how loud? How could the void, so big and encompassing, possibly care about mortal fears such as dying or the dark?

As Arthur and Eliott finally stopped shouting, both of their throats aching and both panting from shouting nonstop for 15 minutes, they fell onto the cool stone ground and looked up at the night's sky. As they laughed at whatever just came over them, Arthur grinned up at the lights in the sky which seemed to wink just for them. Arthur felt his own sort of star building up inside his chest, a great fiery light waiting to burst in the form of a grin as he turned back to Eliott.

Eliott handed the phone to him, sighing breathlessly.

you know, i think that was the best idea ever, if i do say so myself.

Arthur laughed, nodding and passing back the mobile. "Fuck yeah it was. I've never felt better!" Arthur replied with enthusiasm.

The conversation fell once again and they continued to lie like that, silently, thoughtfully, both of them staring up at the wide open sky as the stars twinkled and the moon glowed down on the rest of the world. In the midst of a city full of noise, they had somehow found a pocket of silence where everything else was quiet as well.

Arthur felt an elbow in his side just as he was closing his eyes, still smiling with relief. He turned towards Eliott who was holding up his phone again. He fumbled slightly as he reached for it, almost dropping it onto his face as he tried to read it.

You know, you're not alone. It might feel like that sometimes, but you aren't. And if you ever feel like screaming mindlessly into the sky again or just talking about it, I'm here. And so is everybody else. I mean that.

"For fuck's sake, Demaury. Stop making me cry tonight," Arthur teased, sitting up and handing the phone back, wiping a loose tear from his eyelash with the back of his hand. Eliott laughed and sat up as well, smiling softly and resting his head on Arthur's shoulder. "But seriously. Thank you, man. Not just for that message but for everything else, too. It means a lot to me," Arthur said seriously, tilting his head slightly so he could rest his cheek on top of Eliott's head where it was still against his shoulder. He watched the words appearing on Eliott's scream as he typed, could feel the movement all the way up his arm and into his cheek.

it's no problem. I know you would do the same for me. :) <3

Arthur sighed again, tilting his head to look back up at the sky.

Looking up at the familiar starry night, throat dry and the ground cold, Arthur was certain of one thing. In that one moment of clarity and serenity, far below the heavens and sitting in the middle of a dingy old industrial estate with another guy, Arthur knew that out of everything else he had to worry about in his life, finding people that cared and were there for him completely unconditionally was not one of them.

#skam france #skam france fic #arthur broussard #eliott demaury

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