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ramshackledtrickster · 3 years

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Hi I am enjoying your blog and the your version of Moreau. I have three questions for you. (1) What kind of relationship did your version of pre and post cadou Moreau have with the four Lords and Duke? (2) If your Moreau was able to recover and heal from what happened to him and was take in by BSAA what would he do after besides recover and heal from what happened to him? (3) What dose your version of pre- cadou Moreau's home look like?

Aw thank you so much!! I’m so glad you like em!!

Oo these will be fun to answer!!

Long text post so!! Continue under the cut

1. Salvatore has seen and met Alcina before, as she moves to and fro from the village and elsewhere (America). Likely, she has seen him for her skin condition at least once? But I’d imagine she’s a bit… difficult to work with and demand more doctors to give her a diagnosis on her Porphyria. Though their interactions were limited, again, he was just doing his job and if she didn’t like the results hey don’t blame him. Post-mutation however, Alcina barely recognizes him but when the realization hits her, she tries not to remind herself of that connection. Moreau doesn’t remember either, but he’s definitely intimidated by her. Alcina probably sees him as a walking study of “at least I didn’t have it as bad as this guy”, you know? And generally talks down to and about him for being slow and gross (Moreau has definitely barfed on her dress at least once by accident it’s,, it’s sad). Though she does pity him to an extent, but she won’t show that.

Pre-mutation, Moreau has seen Donna and the Beneviento family before as they moved in from Italy (their ancestry goes back to the village, but the family moved away for generations before coming back to live at the mansion just because I guess). He had more to talk about with the family than with Donna, since she was a baby at that time. He likes being with the Benevientos since they’re more low key? And the father’s project to make a doll for the baby a,ways seemed sweet to him (though the design was… unnerving). (Also they both have Italian heritages lmao ). Donna barely remembers Moreau at all, but neither does Moreau post-mutation. She probably treats him with the most kindness (though Angie can be quite blunt and crude about his appearance, which hurts his feelings of course). She pities him, but does genuinely find him to be nicer company than the other two lords. They have tea, watch movies, and even make small trinkets for each other! (Donna making a small toy for Moreau, and Moreau in turn making her a little accessory).

Pre-mutation Moreau has never met Karl (I imagined he was from outside of the village entirely and barely has any ancestry relating to the Lords, but Miranda offered him a home in the village and under her wing since he was a runaway kid with barely anything). But if he did, I’d imagine he’d be a better father figure to Karl than Miranda a mother to him. Post mutation however, Moreau is more or less reduced to Karl’s emotional punching bag. Moreau’s honestly intimidated and scared of Karl (and his environment of the factory is a sensory hellscape and he carries that energy around everywhere he goes so yeah). But as a newcomer to the village, Karl probably talked to the other villagers and the new doctor who tried to fill in Moreau’s role, and heard about him that way. And how he hated Miranda but in the end became amiable and studied under her, and eventually just disappeared entirely (rumored to study abroad in other countries). As Karl grows to become more resentful of Miranda for manipulating him as a child, he starts to feel alone and resentful of Moreau as a result too, since he puts two and two together that this Moreau was the very same one who would stand up to Miranda all that while before. Maybe he taunts and aggravates Moreau in order to encourage some “fight” back in him? But ultimately all that is left of Moreau is basically a husk and he’s helpless under Mother Miranda’s bidding. Moreau doesn’t remember or know any of Karl’s side of the story though, so he’s just left with the impression that he’s just being mean to him because a. He deserves it and b. Karl is just Like That. But Karl does still take pity on Moreau occasionally and help him fix his tv or get some movies for him on occasion- but the few instances of kindness probably just confuses Moreau more. He doesn’t like not being able to predict what Karl would do or feel.

Moreau was aware and has met the Duke before his mutation, and sensed some eerie things about him. Never heard of him anywhere, doesn’t know where he’s from, just… there hanging around the village at convenient times ?? But salvatore isn’t complaining, considering how generous the man is when it comes to providing some food and shelter when he needs it. He also just so happens to have some peculiar samples of preserved sea life that he said were just “brought from a friend”. Moreau loves to marvel at those in particular, and has bought a sample for himself just to gaze at in the comfort of his own home. But the Duke also has a great selection of movies and books too- Moreau eats that stuff up. But even with all the offered goods, he still feels wary around him. The Duke kinda has a weird Eldritch effect on people that makes you feel confused and unsettled even though there are no perceived threats, and Moreau gets paranoid easily, so he prefers to keep their times together more limited, even if they are pleasant. But post mutation, the Duke is one of Moreau’s only friends and confidantes. He frequently drags himself to him to purchase books or movies, but still feels ashamed for it (and feeling like a burden). And yeah Moreau frequently visits the Duke to also vent and cry about how he feels neglected by Miranda and how hideous he feels. The Duke naturally pities him, but is more so saddened to see how his acquaintance has gotten to such a state. Poor Moreau… he wishes there was a way he could intervene and keep this from happening to him. But there’s no use, seeing as Moreau has lost his memory of who or what his life once was. The best he could do is keep him company, offer him some new pieces of entertainment, and listen to him cry his woes whenever he needs to.

2. After everything, and assuming he is able to regain his memories, he wants to still help people definitely. Being a doctor is the first thing he’d try to return to doing, but he knows his appearance is unsettling, so it’ll take a while for that shell to break through. But outside of that, he wants to return to a more simple life. And of course- fishing. He’d probably like to go back to fishing, since he’s already used to doing that in his mutated form as well. It has always brought him some peace of mind, and if anyone else is willing, he’d make some food for them from his catch of that day. He also wouldn’t mind making and selling homemade crafts- it’d help with the guilt of his experiments and making bad things for mother Miranda- maybe this time, he can make good things for everyone else and maybe potential friends? But definitely most importantly for him, he wants to rejoin society. Even if his appearance wouldn’t allow for total normalcy, it would be amazing just to watch a movie on the big screen, or go to a movie club to just talk about film, and just walk around in the open. Buying things, meeting people (even if he isn’t socialized very well), sharing what he knows and loves… just being human. That’s probably what he wants to feel and return to, whether he retains his pre-mutation memory or not. And maybe even try his hand at writing his own scripts just for fun.

3. Humble home! Wooded shack by the reservoir- he likes to keep the place clean too. He has fishing gear around the place, and a table for crafting little trinkets like lures and bracelets. He has lots of books, mostly science, medicine and biology stuff, but also self help books like Carnegie’s “How to Win Friends and Influence People” and some film books and classic literature (thrillers and romances are his favorites). His medicine and general doctoring gear, notes, etc etc is in a separate room (he likes to keep things easy to find. Everything has its place and every place has its designated things). And of course, he has an old monochrome TV and a radio in his kitchen/dining area. He likes to work with music or white noise from the TV while he cooks for himself. He probably likes this home a lot too due to its vicinity to the fishing area- just a short walk away, and he can go have fun fishing.

Sorry this took so long, but I hope you like it!

#resident evil 8 #salvatore moreau #human salvatore moreau #text post #headcanons #alcina dimitrescu #donna beneviento #angie beneviento #karl heisenberg #resident evil #resident evil village

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ink-and-flame · 3 years

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Kinktober - Intensity Undone

Kinktober Day 3 Prompts: No Prompts

Fandom: Original

Tags: exophilia, angst, hurt/no comfort, relationship arrangements

Pairing: Orc(M)/Human(F)| Darnok/Lia,

[Authors Note: Since the plans for Darnok and Lia had changed this is completely off script now and no longer following the outline. The way the rest of this goes is going to be as much of a surprise to me as it will be for everyone else. There are only a few more parts of this left for what I am considering book 1 of this overarching story. This is a bridge story that does not fit anywhere in the Kinktober prompt list. I felt it worked better as a stand alone as opposed to trying to cram kink into it or having 2 separate stories be one. ]

Lia had been ignoring her phone and email for days now, as she knew it was Darnok trying to contact her. Double checking her messages to make sure she didn’t miss something important for work, she sent everything to voice mail and ignored the rest. That last moment in the club played over and over in her head. The look of shock in Darnok’s eyes as she mentioned his engagement. Everything after was a blur and she wasn’t sure how she made it home.

Ember had been checking up on her every day, letting Lia know that Darnok was sending her messages trying to get any information he could on Lia. It was bothersome but Lia understood. She didn’t give him a chance to say anything, but she couldn’t. If she had risked it, she might have simply fallen back into his arms with whatever excuse he could come up with.

A part of her mind argued that she should have let him speak, should answer him, because what if she was wrong. Though that was the part of her that loved him and wanted to be with him. Lia didn’t trust herself, and whatever reason or excuse he had it wouldn’t be enough. At the end of the day she wanted more than what he was willing to offer, and she had to do what was best for herself.

The phone calls and messages continued into the next week, a few times it was Lucien or Zane calling to check on her, making sure she was ok. Thankfully they had managed to keep all of this from spreading outside their little group to avoid any drama or make things more difficult for Lia when she chose to come back to the club. Lucien had urged her, gently, to talk to Darnok and make a clean break if that was what she truly wanted.

Thankfully for Lia he had no idea where she lived so he couldn’t just randomly show up at her home without notice. Though she wasn’t sure if he remembered where she worked and hoped that he didn’t show up and cause a scene. There was a small part of her that did want to talk to him and she considered what Lucien said as the days kept ticking by.

Lia was in the back at work on her break when her coworker walked up to her with the strangest expression, she looked nervous.

“Uh, there is a car outside for you. A really expensive car and the driver said he was here to pick you up?”

Lia sighed and rubbed her face. “I’m sorry, I will go out there and tell them to leave.”

Lia only had a few minutes left of her break and didn’t want to waste it on this, but she had no choice. Walking outside she told the driver she was working and that he needed to leave. Regardless of his insistence that she get in. Turning around she headed back in and tried to ignore the situation. The car stayed right where it was for the rest of her shift and she was tempted to sneak out the back and drive home, but she didn’t want to risk being followed.

“Ok, my shift is over, clearly you aren’t leaving and I am certain that if I try to drive myself home you will follow me. Right?”

“I have been given instructions to pick you up, and where to take you, that is the limit of my instructions. But yes, I would follow you.”

Rubbing her face with a sigh, Lia felt she had no choice. Giving a vague gesture of acquiescence she waited for the door to be opened and reluctantly got into the car. She knew this was Darnok and not some elaborate abduction, though it certainly felt like one. Of course it did not make her any less angry and Lia held that anger close to her chest, she would need it to keep from falling into his arms the moment she saw him. Despite everything, she missed Darnok.

When the car finally stopped Lia took a deep breath in and waited. The door opened and she stepped out. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over her. She was at the hotel her and Darnok would use on nights they stayed together after being at the club. She wasn’t sure how to feel about this choice, but it did make some measure of sense.

The driver gave her a key card and a slip of paper with instructions on it. Rolling her eyes she thanked the driver politely, none of this was really his fault, and headed into the hotel. Making her way past the desk and up to the room she was relieved to find that it was empty. It gave her a moment to prepare herself, take a few calming breaths, and sit down to relieve some tension.

It wasn’t long before she heard another key card in the door and it opened. In walked Darnok, alone, and looking worried. Lia set her features as close to neutral as she could even though just the sight of him was enough to overwhelm her emotions.

At first there was silence as Darnok stood somewhat awkwardly just inside the door. He stepped closer and cleared his throat.

“Lia.”

Stopping him, Lia held up a hand. “Ms. Doran will be fine. If necessary I will allow you to call me by my full first name. Adalia. You have lost the privilege of calling me anything else.”

The startled look on his face followed by one of pain was all that kept Lia from breaking her facade. She did not feel anywhere near as confident as she sounded and knew that she would probably break before he did.

“Of course Ms. Doran, I understand. Would it be ok if I sat at the table with you?”

Lia nodded and gestured to the chair furthest from her, waiting for Darnok to take a seat. She had not seen him in a bit, but he already looked different. It was hard to place exactly what was different, other than her perception of him, and perhaps that was all it was.

“I know you are angry with me, upset, hurt, dozens of other things. I would just like an opportunity to explain everything to you. If you will allow it.”

Lia sighed and leveled him with an annoyed expression. “If at any point this starts to sound like excuses. I am shutting it down and leaving.”

“That is more than fair.” Darnok took a deep breath clasping his hands together on the table.

“I should have told you of my arrangement the moment I started to consider you as my sub, that was entirely my own fault, I own all of that. All of this is my fault and I will never be able to apologize enough.” Dar held up a hand when he saw Lia open her mouth. “Please, just, let me get through this first part or I never will be able to. I will answer every question you have after.”

Lia nodded and gestured for him to continue. Though the word arrangement already had the wheels in her head turning and she was certain some of her initial suspicions about Darnok had actually been true. Maybe they wouldn’t be where they were if she had just asked questions the moment she became suspicious instead of holding it all inside out of fear of losing him.

“I am in an arranged marriage. It had been planned long before I met you, and I have spent much of my adult life trying to get out of it. Well, trying in ways that will not shame either family or get someone killed.” Clearing his throat again Darnok looked down at his hands. “It was obvious to my intended that I didn’t want this, and as a fae, she is indifferent to all of it herself. She does what her parents tell her and that is pretty much that. Though she did notice and eventually we sat down and had a discussion of what is and is not acceptable for our relationship and how we appear in public.” Dar paused and stood up. “I need a drink, do you want anything?”

“Water is fine.” Lia waited as he brought her water from the mini bar and a juice for himself.

“Our agreement is that in public we appear a normal, happy, loving couple. Whatever it takes to convince the media, our peers, and our families that everything is working out. Privately I am allowed to indulge my sexual desires however I choose but there are rules I have to follow. I can’t be with anyone in our social circle, preferably I keep it out of the city entirely. I can’t fall in love or have feelings for my sexual partners. I cannot be seen publicly with them, and I can’t get anyone pregnant. There are a few smaller rules about visible markings and how I dress, but those are often overlooked.” Darnok took a swig of his juice before continuing.

“I did everything I could to stall the engagement or try to get out of it, but I can’t and my hand has been forced. Both families are pushing for us to be married by the end of next year.” He rubbed his face and looked sadly at Lia. “We have no love for each other, I honestly don’t even think she likes me. Our entire relationship is devoid of intimacy and even the barest shred of warmth. It is entirely a power move and my family was willing to sacrifice me as I am not the oldest son.” Pausing he shrugged. “You can ask questions now if you want. Or just leave, I honestly wouldn’t blame you. It is a fucked up situation that I made worse by not being honest with you.”

Lia sat for a moment, letting everything he said sink in. She toyed with the water bottle a bit as she thought of any questions she could ask. Really he laid it out pretty plainly. There wasn’t a whole lot of mystery, other than the whole arranged marriage part. She wasn’t even aware that was still a thing, but clearly it was.

“I guess the only question I can think of is just why? Why weren’t you just honest with me from the beginning? It seems like such a simple thing, you could have brought it up that first night, or if not then, after the first month would have been appropriate.”

Darnok nodded, knowing Lia was absolutely right. He should have been honest from the very beginning. It could have avoided all of this.

“It is a valid question and one I have no acceptable excuse for. The reason I didn’t in the beginning is because of privacy. I had gotten used to the arrangement and rarely had partners that I would do enough sessions with that it would be necessary to disclose it. After that though, I guess the reason was fear. I connected with you in ways I have never connected with anyone, I didn’t want to lose that. I kept telling myself you would move on, or I could just tell you the next month, but I always managed to find a reason to not say anything and it then became an issue of feeling too late.” Darnok looked down at his hands before continuing. “I guess part of me was living in this fantasy world where I could have both. I could keep the families happy, and I could have you which made me happy. I should have known it was impossible and I am so sorry for how much this hurt you.”

It was hard to stay in her seat, not run to him and throw her arms around him. She loved him, Lia knew that she loved him, but that love was poison to her heart. Even if he had been honest from the beginning, she knew she would have fallen in love with him anyway and it would have hurt just as much, but in a different way.

“At least I understand now. I can’t say I envy your position, and you should be honest with your partners from day one going forward. Privacy or no, this is a cruel thing to do to a person and I would hate for it to happen to anyone else. I am fortunate I got my club membership on my own merits because I like the people I have met there and I don’t want to lose that too. I am sure we will see each other at the club, but I think it would be for the best if you kept your distance for now. Even though I understand your situation, I don’t think I can do any more scenes with you Darnok.”

Lia stood up. It was the most difficult thing she had ever done, but she had to let him go. Mostly for her own sake. He was never going to leave his fiance, he couldn’t, and she loved him too much to be his dirty secret. Maybe others could live with that, but she had grown far too attached and there was nothing to be done about it now.

“So this is goodbye then?” Darnok asked, looking at her with sorrowful eyes. “You want a clean break, no friendship, no anything?”

“I can’t. I just, Darnok I can’t. Find someone else to be your sex toy. I am a sub, but I am still a person, and I refuse to let myself be used like that.”

Turning away from him Lia headed towards the door, she could already feel the heat of the tears in her eyes threatening to fall and she did not want to cry again, not now.

“Please wait!”

“NO! I am leaving and you are going to let me. This is on you. You broke everything Darnok, and you can’t fix this. There is nothing you can do to ever make this ok. Do not contact me again.”

Storming out of the room Lia all but ran to the elevator and stepped inside. She held it together long enough to make it down to the main floor and out the door. Of course she did not have her car, and while she did see the driver she avoided him and just began walking. The hotel wasn’t far from the club, she could see if Ember was there and get a ride back to work that way. As far as she was concerned Darnok no longer existed and she had to restart her life as best she could.

Thankfully Ember was there, along with some of the others she knew. The walked helped to clear her head and kept her from looking overly disheveled as the tears had time to fall, but the cool air kept her face from going too red or splotchy. Ember called it a night early and headed out with Lia, driving her to her work and then following back to their building.

Like a good friend Ember stayed with Lia all night, letting her friend rage and cry, doing whatever was needed to get it all out. It was necessary to heal, the wound had to be cleansed before the healing could begin. It was a shitty situation for certain, but Lia was strong and would eventually be able to move on. Until then, she had friends that would help her through all this.

#Darnok/Lia #orc boyfriend

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danijimenezv · 3 years

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His Biggest Fan

Summary: A little rewrite of the vending machine scene from OH1 Ch1. This was inspired by the replay for the Open Heart Book Club.

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Jillian Valentine).

Word Count: 2216 words.

A/N: I followed a lot of the game script but also added a little. I merged a few choices because I'm an indecisive little shit that loved both options 😂 And I also hated that Landrat kept Ethan's autograph, so I fixed it. As always, feedback is much appreciated! (please, I crave it)

“Wait! It’s you, isn’t it?”

“What?” Jillian furrowed his eyebrows at the other intern’s exclamation, deeply confused. On the outside, her face was a perfect mask of calm, but on the inside, she started to feel a wave of anxiousness threatening to suffocate her by the thought of being recognized.

“You’re the intern who did the thoracotomy with him this morning?”

“Yeah.” she shook her head, letting out the breath she had been holding, “And he ripped me a new one in front of everyone. It was so unbelievably-”

“Lucky!” Landry exclaimed, earning a puzzled look from her, “Ethan Ramsey actually talked to you! Ugh, this is what I get for getting to work an hour early. If I saw him in person, I’d probably just…”

As much as Jillian admired the man, she really couldn’t understand how Landry could describe her humiliation as a moment of luck. She was many things, proud being one of them, so she only felt indignant about what had happened that morning, nowhere near as happy as Landry.

“It was intimidating.” she shrugged, but raised an eyebrow when Landry froze up, staring wide-eyed in panic, “Landry? You okay?” he pointed past her, and as she turned around, she saw him there, talking to a nurse down the hall, the one and only Doctor Ethan Ramsey, “Crap, he’s coming this way. Hide me.”

“Hide you?! Hide me!” Landry squeaked.

“Jillian, stop.” she ordered herself, gathering her pride and dignity, “What am I doing? I can’t let my first day go like this. Okay, I’m… I’m gonna go talk to him.”

“The man once tore apart the research of the A.M.A.’s president… during the president’s keynote address! Are you sure about this?” Landry gasped.

“Landry, sometimes you just gotta… risk it.” Jillian grinned, “I’m always sure about what I do. It might not be the brightest idea, but at least I’m sure. I’m doing this. Would you let me borrow your copy of his book?”

Landry only nodded, still shocked in place. After taking Landry’s copy of Diagnostic Principles, Jillian marched down the hall toward Doctor Ramsey, who had stopped by an elderly patient’s room. Even from the hall, she could hear the patient hollering.

“I’m not going to ask you again, Barb.” Ramsey said tiredly.

“Forget about it, Doctor Ramsey. I’m busting outta this joint. I’ll tie the bedsheets together and rappel out of the window.” the older woman threatened.

“Don’t wait up on my account. In fact, I might break out of here with you.” for the first time, Jillian saw Ethan smiling, which surprised her and dazzled her in equal parts.

“I mean it! I don’t have my favorite armchair, and I’m bored without my puzzles.”

“And I’m bored of your excuses, Barb. Whine all you want, I’m not going anywhere until you take your medication.”

Ethan muttered to himself as he walked away from the entrance of the room and headed to a vending machine in the hall. He slid a dollar bill into the machine, but just stood there with his arms folded, not selecting anything.

“Hi, Doctor Ramsey.” Jillian approached with the most charming smile she could muster.

He glanced up at her for a split second with bemusement, before looking back at the machine, “Rookie. Back there, were you… hiding from me?”

“No, I don’t hide.” she stated confidently, showing the book, “I was actually hoping you might sign this book.”

“Autographs? Don’t you have work to be doing? Or at least other attendings to irritate?”

“Nope, just you.” she grinned, knowing it would only push his buttons.

“Interns.” he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I should have guessed. Well, if you have something else to say, then say it.”

“I just wanted to tell you I’m your biggest fan.”

Jillian hated to admit that; after all, it irritated her immensely when people said that about her parents or older siblings. She knew idolatry was pointless and frankly annoying, but for some reason, she wanted, needed, Ethan to know just how much she admired him and how much he had played part in the decision of becoming a doctor. She shared the same love, intrigue and aptitude for medicine as her family, but after much research, she knew becoming a doctor, a human one, was her calling. And the formidable Ethan Ramsey had inspired her enough to stand up to her family and choose her own path.

He still didn’t look away from the vending machine, half-listening, “My biggest fan? Is that right?”

“I’ve read all your papers: systemic amyloidosis, Lesch-Nyhan Syndrome, spinocerebellar ataxia…” at that, he turned to look at her directly, and Jillian straightened her posture slightly, refusing to back down, and instead held his sharp blue gaze, “You inspired me to go to medical school.”

“That ataxia paper was my undergrad thesis. That medical journal isn’t even published anymore. You tracked that down?” he seemed impressed.

“I can give you my copy… if you’d like.”

The way her voice had dropped to a sultry tone made it seem like she was offering something far less innocent and far more appealing than a simple copy of one of his papers. He tilted his head, intrigued for a moment, and then turned back to the machine.

“That won’t be necessary.” Ethan cleared his throat, and glanced back at the snacks display, “But I don’t think that’s what you came here to tell me.”

It was Jillian’s time to look intrigued. Over the years, she had perfected the art of hiding her thoughts and concealing her emotions with polite smiles and bored looks. She knew how to play the manipulation game with closed eyes, even if she didn’t do it frequently. But what had thrown her off base was that, somehow, Ethan could see right through her. The way he read her wasn’t something she was used to, and she still wasn’t sure if she liked it or not.

“Okay, I also came to assure you that I won’t let you down again.” she conceded.

He didn't even bother to look at her this time, “You can see the future? If so, you’ll make a remarkable physician.”

“Of course not. I just meant–”

“You will let me down again, Rookie. What’s more, you’ll let yourself down. Over and over.” he interrupted her and Jillian looked away, starting to regret even trying to talk to the man, but at last, Doctor Ramsey turned to stare directly at her, his blue eyes connecting with her honey-colored ones, “But what matters is that you get back on your feet each and every time, and push yourself to be better.”

Jillian was rendered speechless. She hadn’t expected him to give motivational and helpful advice, but here he was, proving her he wasn’t just another heartless, arrogant, know-it-all doctor as she had first gathered. Though she took his advice to heart and imprinted it in her brain, she didn’t dare say anything in return. After a few seconds in silence, she noticed how his eyes kept flicking to the chocolate bar in the top corner of the vending machine.

“I was always a salty snacks kind of girl myself, you know, popcorn, chips, that stuff.”

“That’s truly fascinating, but I’m not-”

“I know you’re not getting something for yourself.” Jill interrupted him, “You’re trying to pick something to cheer up Barbara in there, right?”

“How’d you figure that?”

“Just paying attention.” she mused with a soft smile, “You know, I bet I could pick out just the thing.”

“I doubt it. Barbara’s even more stubborn than you. She’s refused to take her pills for two days. But be my guest, it’s a hopeless endeavor.”

He didn’t think she could do it. In fact, he was looking at her like he was expecting her to fail, and not specifically in Barbara’s case. Jillian straightened her back at the challenge and scanned the contents of the vending machine. Her honey-colored eyes glinted in delight as soon as she spotted the hot cocoa. It was, after all, a comforting classic, and one of her personal favorites. Without a second to waste, she pressed the numbers for the chocolate. The machine whirred and the cocoa powder pack plunked out into the tray.

“Hot chocolate?” Doctor Ramsey looked down at her with condescendence, wanting to scoff at her cliché choice.

Jillian filled up a mug with hot water from the machine at the nurses’ station, and stirred in the cocoa. Once she made sure the drink was ready, she handed it to Ethan.

“How exactly is this supposed to-?”

“Come on, Doctor Ramsey, it’s hot chocolate. It’s bound to work, especially if she’s feeling restless and homesick.”

“That’s a big guess you’re taking there.”

“Don’t be so stubborn.” Jillian chastised him, “Look, just give it to her, okay? Trust me.”

“I don’t trust you.” he muttered.

“Well, you could always keep trying your way, but you don’t seem to be too successful at that either.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, but still took the mug and headed back into Barbara’s room. Jillian rested against the wall for a few minutes while she waited for him to be back. He soon returned with a perplexed look on his face.

“That got her to take the pills. I can’t believe it.” his mouth fell open in shock and he blinked a few times, “So, are you gonna tell me how you worked that one out?”

“Nope.”

“No?”

“A girl’s gotta have some secrets.”

Because if she had read him right, and she definitely thought she had, Ethan Ramsey was the kind of man who liked being in control of the situation and having answers to everything, down to the minimum detail. Why make it easier for him? She could keep him as frustrated as he made her feel. It was only fair.

“You’re really going to hold out on me?”

“I’m going for an air of mystery.” she flirted, “Is it working?”

“Mildly.”

Despite his best efforts, Ethan couldn’t help the smile that broke out into his face. It was hard not to respond in some way to the joyful expression on her face that made her eyes sparkle and turned her cheeks a lovely shade of soft pink. He caught himself after a few seconds, and looked away to compose the direction of his thoughts.

Jillian hadn’t noticed any of this, too occupied staring at the machine to avoid focusing on the handsome attending in front of her. It was then that she saw there were still 50 cents left over from Ethan’s dollar. She turned and pressed the numbers in the machine, and took the chocolate bar he was previously eyeing from the tray.

“And who is that for?”

“You.” Jillian tossed him the chocolate bar. He grabbed it with ease, but with raised eyebrows and a confused expression on his face, “I saw you kept staring at it earlier. You know, it’s okay to treat yourself sometimes.” He looked down at the chocolate in his hands with surprise, not having expected her to be that considerate with him.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jill turned to walk away, “See you around, Doctor Ramsey.”

“Wait.” he stopped her and motioned for the book, “Give it here.”

He took Landry’s copy of Diagnostic Principles and turned to the nurses’ station to look for a pen to sign it. However, Jillian wasn’t the only observant person in the room. With just one look at the condition of the book, Ethan knew it wasn’t hers. He didn’t know her personally, but Jillian looked like the kind of perfectionist who would never highlight or write in a book, the kind of person who would take care of a book as if it was the most valuable possession and have it in perfect condition. That book in his hands had a lot of markers and scribbles, some pages were folded, and part of the cover was peeled off. It definitely didn’t look like her book. So, he signed the first page of the book, but additionally took a post-it from the nurses’ station and scrawled a quick message on it for her, before he returned and tossed the book back to her.

“Now get back to work, Valentine.”

That made her stop in her tracks, her honey-colored eyes wide in shock, “You remembered my name?”

“Just paying attention.” he threw back at her with a smirk before walking off.

Jillian opened the book in curiosity and read Ethan’s inscription on the post-it.

‘For my biggest fan. Don’t let me down. ~Dr. Ethan Ramsey.’

A bright smile lit up her whole face, and she quickly took the post-it and put it in her pocket, before returning to Landry and showing him the book.

“You’re still alive!” he shrieked in surprise, “And… I can’t believe it, you got my copy signed! I absolutely love it.”

Landry charged forward and squeezed Jillian in an awkward hug, causing her to flinch in discomfort and pat his back a couple of times before pulling away.

“Okay, yeah, you’re welcome…” she tried to smile politely and make up an excuse, “Come on. I’m getting paged and, I don’t know about you, but I’m still completely lost…”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Tags: @jamespotterthefirst, @missflashgeek, @openheart12, @takeharryandgo, @aestheticartsx, @choicesfanaf, @fireycookie, @the-pale-goddess, @drariellevalentine, @trappedinfanfiction, @tsrookie, @perriewinklenerdie, @genevievemd, @drethanramslay, @openheartthot, @lucy-268, @writinghereandthere, @rookie-ramsey, @missmiimiie, @ramseyandrys, @ruinedbypixels, @queencarb, @lovingramsey, @gryffindordaughterofathena, @ohchoices, @anntoldst0ries, @bluebellot, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @mysticaurathings, @iemcpbchoices, @itsjustamesshonestly, @shanzay44, @lsdw-blog, @liaromancewriter, @heauxplesslydevoted

#ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey x jillian valentine #oph book club #ethan x oc #ethan ramsey x oc #choices fic #choices fic writers creations #open heart fic #open heart #dani writes

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malkumtend · 3 years

Text

Their Booth (Human SquirrelCrow) - Part 2.

He’d be lying if he said her room was any different from what he expected. Light yellow walls that became vibrant in the strong sun, white bedsheets patched with warm orange stripes, a bookcase piled with texts on film theory and more Stephen King novels than Crow thought existed, another bookcase completely stacked with Blu-rays and obscure DVD’S, and an entire wall plastered with film posters. It was honestly quite scary to look that way and find a hundred pairs of eyes, mostly behind the gleam of a weapon, glaring back at you.

Spirited, flashy, intense. It was just what he imagined. It was her.

It was welcoming.

She throws her bag across the room, slumping back on her bed. “I’m so tired.”

Crow sets his own bag down. “Why?”

“It’s just been a long day.”

“Oh really?” Crow begins scanning the pile of books. “What have you done?”

She kicks her boots off. “I got ten pages of the new script done.” She says, sitting up to pull her coat from her arms. “Took me around two hours.”

“Wow.” Crow deadpans, pretending to look wide-eyed. “I only had to run three marathons today. How did you survive?”

He only sees the coat for a second, floating like a ghost, before his face is covered by green.

“It’s not my fault you’re a freak.”

In the darkness, Crow chuckles. He’s smiling by the time he pulls the coat off. “Takes one to know one.”

Squirrel has an arched brow, as well as her boot armed back, ready to throw.

Crow gently puts the coat on her door. “So, what do you want to start with?” He unzips his bag, scrambling for his English textbook.

The ginger girl groans, but mercifully lets Crow’s face go un-booted. “Ugh! Seriously! We just got out and you want to study!”

Crow rolls his eyes, but the laughter warms his throat. “That’s kind of why I’m here, Squirrel.” He looks to her door uneasily. “At least it’s the only reason your mom didn’t kill me.” Sandstorm had been nice enough, told him that she’d heard nothing but great things about him from Squirrel (her daughter had denied that - blushing) but he could feel the warning squeeze as he shook her hand, and he could have sworn he’d seen her nod when he’d looked up in question.

The familiar flash of a mother’s eyes. If you like your kneecaps in their normal place, no funny business.

She hadn’t needed to say it. Crow had nodded vigorously. Message received.

“Oh, please.” Squirrel sits up again, her hands slipping her hair back over her shoulders. “She’d kill you regardless. She’s like a shark. And what do you mean? You don’t hang out to study! That’s like the opposite of hanging out!”

Crow paused, taking a seat beside her on the bed. Truthfully, he didn’t care about studying. He was on course for an A, and as far as he knew so was Squirrel. But her parents wanted to make sure she kept on that road. It had been Leaf who had begged Crow to give her a hand. As much as she loved her sister, she had her own studying (and girlfriend) to see to. Squirrel apparently hadn’t been too on board with the idea. It was ‘too humiliating’ apparently.

It was when Fireheart suggested asking Bramble to come back and help her that Squirrel finally resigned to texting Crow non-stop until he agreed.

He’d actually agreed after the first text.

Crow knew full well how little Squirrel wanted to see Bramble anymore. The idiot still hadn’t mentioned Squirrel’s film to her. Whenever he was mentioned Squirrel shifted and made a face that Crow hated to see her make.

He suspected that she still wasn’t over him just yet.

And while that was understandable, it cut into Crow for more reasons than one.

That was why he wanted to make sure they got some work done. If her parents walked in and saw Crow wasn’t doing what he was meant to come over for, he had no doubt they wouldn’t hesitate to sack him off and call Bramble back.

The thought of that made his fists clench.

“Well, it might be better if you remember I’m not here to hang out.”

“Oh, so this is just work for you?” She sighs like one of the actresses she would direct. “And here I thought there was something special between us.”

That shouldn’t sting as much as it does. She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t even know.

“Not my fault you’re wrong.” He plays along. “Look, let’s just do an hour at least. Then if your parents come in, they’ll keep of your back for the rest of the night.”

Squirrel pouts sulkily and Crow knows she’s considering it. She never let it look like she was giving up. She always had to show some restraint, real or imaginary. He turns back to the textbook now. He scans through for subjects she needs work on. He’s split between starting with Poetry or Analysing the role of women in Dystopian Fiction.

There is a creaking that moves across the bed towards him. Two hands curl on the base of his skull, digging in softly. He knows from the extra weight that she has balanced her chin on her hands. It’s not a lot of force he needs to keep himself up, but the heat on his face is slightly worrying.

He feels her elbows on his shoulders. “Can’t we make it half an hour?” She asks her human table.

Somehow, he shrugs. “If you want your mother to get the belt, sure.”

“You’d like the pain.”

“If it’s yours, then you’re damn right.”

“Sadist.”

They both talk so simply, words rolling off in the natural balance they’d built.

She sighs, her hands move off his head and onto his shoulders. His body is dragged back a little as she curves back with a contemplating mutter. A twist of shame and a happy flutter simultaneously come over the boy. He almost feels he could lose his balance. The fear of discovery is what keeps him stoic. He wonders a little if he’s always been like this about these things. He doesn’t think it was like this around Feather, but how could he know? Denial was probably his eternal security when it came to his own pathetic attempts of keeping cool.

The fingers on his shoulders all tap then slap down lightly. “An hour and then a movie?”

“Sure.”

“Can I pick it?”

“Will it be Breakfast Club?”

“Possibly.”

He didn’t know how many times she’d seen it, but four was enough for him. “An hour and something new.”

Squirrel leans forward again; she practically sings into his ear. “Can I still pick the new film?”

He says yes, if only to make sure she can’t see his eyes widen.

She doesn’t as she falls back, shoving him gently. “Let’s start with poetry then. I’d rather get the worst done quickly.”

It doesn’t go quickly for her, Crow can see. After every point she makes she checks the clock and audibly gnashes her teeth when she sees only another minute has passed. With an actor’s heart, she falls back dramatically at least half a dozen times, murmuring a prayer. Crow learns not to pay her the attention after the third time. They needed to get the work done. It turns out the best trick to get her back up is to just tap her ankle with the textbook, gently prodding her like a woodpecker, until she sits back up.

But as dramatic and reserved as she was, she definitely isn’t an idiot. She doesn’t stumble on her points. They come out smooth and rehearsed with the diction of someone who knows what they’re talking about. Presumably because she knew if she struggled it would mean more time on the stuff she hated. That makes it go just a little quicker.

She actually answers them easier than when Crow has to speak, to her evil delight.

“I thought you were meant to be the tutor here.”

“I’d call myself your warden more than anything.”

Crow isn’t as annoyed as would have been. He can’t deny that she’s smarter than him here. Bragging rights were hers.

Besides, she looked happy.

Also, he’d get his chance to brag eventually. They’d have to move onto math sooner or later.

They only get two interruptions through the whole hour. The first is Sandstorm, under the guise of checking in on them, asking if they needed anything. Once she saw her daughter actually working, Crow was relieved to see her grin at him thankfully before heading away. He’d been holding in that breath of relief like an ancient treasure.

The second is Moth, carrying in an iced tea for Squirrel and a mocha (with a froth of whipped cream stirred in) for Crow. She’d been getting drinks for her and Leaf and said she felt guilty if they weren’t getting anything as well. Crow has to admit, Leaf had great taste in women. Moth was almost unnervingly friendly and bizarrely just as much of a genius as her girlfriend, she’d already been offered a medical scholarship. It was even more amazing considering what Crow had heard about her… background.

Leaf had been right about that Hawk guy. She didn’t mention him much, but when he came up and Moth was in the room, the girl shook with such sheer fear that Crow would not have imagined it was her brother they’d mentioned.

Apparently, she was doing better though. For reasons that Crow knew were none of his business, Hawk had been thrown out of his and Moth’s home. Where he was now, Moth didn’t know and didn’t want to find out. The others respected that. All they needed to do was stand by her and help if she needed it. But her auburn hair looked less withered, her cheeks had more colour, and she showed off her impressive height without the scrunched gait she had seemed to linger in before.

As long as she was happy, Leaf was happy. Crow and Squirrel just did what they could to make sure it stayed that way.

And that was easy when she was so damn nice. That mocha had been delicious.

Five minutes later, they call it a session.

“That’s a wrap!” Squirrel stretches her arms up triumphantly. The sleeves she wears are too big and roll down clumsily. She says it makes her look bigger. Crow doesn’t get the logic but he says nothing.

“For today.” Crow spites playfully.

His friend makes a raspberry. “That’s all that matters.” As if the tension and stress has evaporated, she jumps off of the bed, rushing over to her Blu-ray collection. Crow still feels like he should whistle at the multitude of titles she owned, they must have made up at least $300. He’d mentioned it once. She’d shot back if it was necessary to own a dozen pairs of running shoes. He had tried to tell her how each shoe was more adaptable to certain tracks or states of weather, but she was about as interested as he’d been about why it was necessary to own, like six, various versions of Blade Runner.

Whatever they did with their money, they decided, was their own business.

“What to watch. What to watch.” She pulls cases out one by one, her face igniting with thought at every cover.

Crow rolled his head back onto the head of her bed. “Pick anything.” He isn’t that fussy about these things. Whether it was some art-house thing he wouldn’t understand, or some Disney flick where Squirrel would know the words to every song in the thing, and sing along right in front of him, he’d sit and watch.

“Oh okay, then-”

He just makes it. “Not Breakfast Club!”

“Spoilsport…”

“Don’t you get bored of watching that thing every day?” He asks flatly.

“Do you get bored of running around the same track every week?”

Oh, he is so not ready to play this game. “Okay, whatever. Point taken.” His eyes close, listening to her fumble through the films. Every so often he hears her murmur something like “Nah, not his best film” or “Bit too sappy for him”. She’s analysing her decisions around him. Crow doesn’t know what to think about that. It makes her sound like she knows him so well. It’s a little embarrassing. But then he considers how she’s clearly trying to pick something she thinks he’ll enjoy. And it’s based on the tastes she associates with him.

Crow’s stomach goes light. Did she often think about what he liked? Was he that easy to read? He inhales, his nostrils feel numb. He knows he’s overthinking this. All he really knew for sure was that she wanted to make sure he enjoyed her pick.

He’s content with that.

She pulls out Jackass with a smirk, shaking it at him. “Too close to home?”

“It’s in your hands.”

“Touché. I’ve already picked something anyway.” She rises, holding a film called Little Miss Sunshine. Crow doesn’t recognise it. The title makes his mouth twist though. You never knew what you were in for when it came to Squirrel.

“What’s it about?”

She places the film in the player, looking back at him with a glint. “I find it best when you go into films without knowing anything about them.”

Crow regrets asking. This girl could be impossible. “That’s not very smart advice.”

“Why’s that?”

“Like, what if I hated horror movies and someone stuck one on without me knowing? Or if some weirdo stuck on some porno flick or something?”

Squirrel stands up, swipes a lock of hair behind her shoulder and holds the cover up with a terse look on her face. “Does this look like some horror porno to you?”

“Knowing you, I can’t trust the cover.”

She chuckles, sitting down on the end of the bed with the remote. She’s a mix of irritated and playful. “Tell you what, if at any point some guy ends up cut in half or gets his dick out, I’ll turn it off. Happy?”

“Is this secretly some plan to get rid of me?”

She shrugs. “Don’t need a plan, the door’s right there if I need to kick you out. Now do you want to watch the movie or not?”

He’s not that bothered about the film. But he knows she wants him to watch it, and he knows he’ll enjoy hearing her talk about it. So they watch it. Crow actually enjoys it quite a bit. Some road trip movie about a family taking their youngest daughter to a beauty pageant. It’s acted great, and there are enough twists to keep Crow entertained (the ending scene is genuinely hilarious to him though).

And when he looks like he’s enjoying it, the faces Squirrel makes make his night.

She always likes having a discussion after every film they watch. It’s clear that she loves film with a passion. Every character, every scene, even down to the ways the camera moves, Squirrel has an opinion on it all. And it’s not like she’s pretentious about it in anyway. She’s convincing and always leaves Crow points where he can offer his own point. He doesn’t do it much (He’d rather hear it from someone who actually knows what they’re talking about). It’s just fun. She’s passionate about this and Crow likes to see that.

Although she does slip sometimes.

Such as tonight. She’s talking about how the protagonist is able to go against the conformities of beauty and success when Crow hears her voice tighten just a hint. He realises it’s odd to notice these things, but maybe he is odd when it comes to her. He’s seen her like this before, not in a while but it still leaves him cold.

“Isn’t that the point though?” Crow says. They’re sat at the head of her bed, side by side. “They realise she can do things her own way. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is.” Squirrel lays down, her ginger locks look like gleaming spiderwebs on the pillow. Her face is hardened on the ceiling. She pauses a moment. “It just sucks though, doesn’t it?”

“What does?”

“Like, the fact those pageants exist. I mean, I get that it gives some kids confidence or something. But there’s at least ten more kids who watch that shit and think they’re too fat or too, just, like, not normal to do anything in it?”

“I feel like there’s some projecting going on here.” Crow says slowly, leaning onto his elbow. The bed is remarkably soft and he almost falls off.”

Squirrel narrows her eyes at him. “You think I’m wrong?”

“I never said that.” Crow flicks a strand of hair over her nose, she creases and blows it away. “It’s bullshit, any idiot can see that. But why are you so worried about it? Have you got a pageant life I don’t know about?”

She punches his elbow, but she’s laughing. “You wish, perv. I just don’t think it’s right, that’s all.”

“I agree with you on that. But it’s not like you’re conforming to anything right?”

She blinks at him.

“I mean, you make movies and you’re really good at it.”

Was he putting too much effort with the ‘really’? He doesn’t try to think about it. “I haven’t heard anyone hate on your festival picture, and reminder.” He pokes her arm. “You came in the top five in that national contest!”

Her eyes flutter. “It was actually a regional contest.”

Crow waves a hand at the air, as if batting away wasps. “Who the hell cares? Fact is, you’re great at it!”

“Great.” It’s just one word. But Crow hears something different in how she says it. Small and curious, perhaps suspicious. It’s infrequent, but Crow panics whenever he hears it on her. He feels like the signature on a poorly made painting. He tries to picture what normal was for him and he thinks back to when thought of Squirrel or the idea of friends with nothing but disgust.

That normal was impossible to want, yet Crow missed the routine of not giving a shit.

He can only go with it. Keep his face like stone. “Obviously. Every idiot is great at something.”

Maybe remembering her own self, but her eyes still glimmering, Squirrel sits up with a cheeky look. “Oh, you mean how you were great at running?”

The relief of the straight line is temporary. “Yeah exact-” His eyebrows curve up. “I’m sorry. Were?”

Squirrel smiles at him with a look that’s almost sympathetic! She pats his back like she’s a mother comforting a child. “Don’t look like that Crow, just because you can’t run it doesn’t mean you’re a loser to me.”

He starts ranting about doctors’ orders and muscle strains as she laughs hard. He ‘argues’ his point for what might be ten minutes before Fireheart sticks his head in to ask about the racket. Crow has the sense to look apologetic while Squirrel explains they were done with the tutoring.

“Sounds like it too.” Fireheart says his arms crossing. Though his hair burns ginger like his daughter’s, there is a seasoned hardness on his face. Crow doesn’t want to get on his bad side.

“Sorry about that.” Crow says, easing away from the man’s daughter just a little. Fireheart smiles, unoffended.

“I’m kidding. It’s fine.” He nods to Crow. “Thanks for coming to help. It’s good to know Squirrel is getting some work done.”

Squirrel blushes furiously, “Dad!”

The man laughs genially, “Lighten up, kiddo!” Off of his daughter’s sulking look, he looks back at Crow. “Would you like me to give you a ride back home?”

The boy thinks that’s his signal to go, but before he can agree Squirrel cuts in. “We were actually just going to give Feather and Storm a call before he goes. It’s been a while.”

Crow is surprised by the change in plans, but he doesn’t object to it. It has been a while since they last spoke to their friend. Plus, he wasn’t in any hurry to go.

“Ah.” Fireheart makes a sound of agreement. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Well just give me a call if you want me to take you home, or I could call Ashfoot to come get you if you like?”

The friendliness of the man encourages Crow a little. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

Fireheart nods again. But this time he gives Crow the spasm of an eye that almost looks like a wink. And was that a smirk? Crow feels his throat dry up again.

Squirrel sighs irritably once he’s gone, “That’s why I want a lock.”

Crow coughs to cover his unwinding nerves. “So we’re calling Feather and Storm?”

The girl beams, reaching to her bag to pull out her laptop. She slides her belly across the bed, lifting her legs and resting them on Crow’s knees. “Of course, we are! You’ll want to see her again, no doubt.” He thinks she’s smirking. Crow’s eyes dim.

“Not funny.”

“It’s true.”

It isn’t. But what can he say. As far as she knows, nothing was different about him. That hurt a little. It almost made it look like there was no point in thinking he could ever move on. But he had, he’d done it before she’d left.

But the idea that Squirrel would realise that scared the shit out of him.

Her legs swing away from him as she walks towards the door, “I’ll go ask Leaf if she wants to join. Don’t jump out the window or anything.”

Crow picks his head up, mimicking being annoyed rather than perturbed. “You know me.”

Squirrel blasts him a wiggle of her brows and then she’s gone. Taking her presumptions and theories with her. It’s strange to be alone in her room. It’s like she’s never gone. Crow sighs at the way his stomach is throbbing. He’s stuck in a paradox. He didn’t want to be found out. But the way she misjudged him, or his feelings, still stung no matter how stupid it really was.

She no doubt was going off to Leaf about him seeing Feather again, like it was some Romeo and Juliet type bullshit. That wasn’t it at all. If they looked at him when he saw his old crush again, there wouldn’t be anything like that. He missed Feather terribly. She was a great friend to have around. They all missed her like that.

But that added glow that came to her face so long ago. That was gone.

Or rather, it’s spotlight was centred on someone new.

...

So I wanted to add some more to this Human AU idea. It will come in small parts this time, compared to a massive one shot. That way I can alternate between this and ILYL. Now this is done, back to working on the main fic. Expect the next part of this after that chapter is released.

Thanks for reading.

#squirrelcrow #crowsquirrel #human warriors au #human warrior cats

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omgrachwrites · 3 years

Text

The Book of Love - Chapter Five

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Ravenclaw!Reader

Summary: After a breakup leaves you heartbroken and miserable, things start to change for the better when you begin exchanging notes in a library book with a mystery boy.

Warnings: fluff, adorable drunk Remus

Words: 2390

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this part! Please let me know what you think and let me know if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

Chapter Five

Remus watched the morning hours slip by very slowly that he was starting to wonder whether somebody had meddled with time. In reality though, he knew that time was mocking him because he was so nervous. He was so nervous that three times in the past hour he got up to find Y/N and tell her that he was too busy to study today.

However, it was the thought of Y/N that stopped him, he thought of her easy smile and beautiful aura; he remembered that when he was with her most of his nerves seemed to dissipate. Plus, he was a bad liar, at least when he was lying about something so superficial. He didn’t want Y/N to see through the lie and not extend the offer to study together again.

Remus was at a loss of what to do to keep himself busy, he had been content with reading a book and replying to a new post it note in his library book for a couple of hours. Soon enough, his eyes got stuck on the same place on the same page and he shut the book with a loud snap that made the surrounding people jump. He even went down to the Quidditch pitch with James and Sirius to watch them practise. It was normally something that bored Remus to death but it was at least something to occupy him, even if it was freezing outside.

Sirius seemed to notice Remus’ nervous expression because he flew over to Remus, hovering in front of him with an uncharacteristically gentle smile on his face, “you don’t have to be so nervous Moony; you know how nice Y/N is. You like her don’t you?”

Remus flushed as he ran his fingers through his tousled hair and nodded, “of course I do, you know that I do.”

“Then show her, the worst she can do is not return your feelings and even then it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Woo her and court her, just like they used to do in the olden days. I know it sounds rich coming from me but you’re a better person than me Rem. Nobody ever said that this was going to be easy,” for a moment, Sirius sounded so wise, nothing like the troublemaker he usually was.

Remus nodded as he smiled gratefully, “thanks Sirius, and hey, you’re not a bad person, you need to stop thinking that you are. If you were then you wouldn’t have illegally become an Animagus, you’re my best friend.”

Sirius’ face broke out into a grin as he shrugged but he had a delighted look on his face before he flew off in the direction of the watery sunlight.About half an hour later, Sirius’ fan club arrived at the stands to swoon and fawn over him as he zoomed through the sky. Remus couldn’t be bothered to sit around and watch girls and boys undress Sirius with their eyes, it got so old after a while.

He checked his watch and discovered that he still had time before he had to meet Y/N so he decided to take Sirius’ advice and try to woo her; it was at least worth a try. Remus waved a hand at his friends as he got himself out of the cold air and made his way down to the kitchens.

As he walked into the warm room, he was met with the pleasant smell of tomato and pumpkin soup. When the door closed with a click, the house elves instantly came scurrying towards him, bowing low as they did so. Remus grimaced, it made him feel sick that the house elves were always so exceedingly happy to serve, they didn’t know any better.

“Please, you don’t have to do that,” he mumbled, feeling a little bit awkward as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“What can we do for you sir?” one of them asked in a high pitched voice and Remus smiled at them wanly as he felt butterflies flutter in his stomach as he thought of Y/N.

“I was wondering whether you could help me. I’m meeting Y/N Y/L/N in a little while and I wanted to put a little picnic together for us.”

“Of course sir, we knows Miss Y/N, we knows what she likes. She cones to talk to us sometimes, she’s very kind sir.”

Remus nodded in confirmation, he knew just how kind she was and it didn’t surprise him that she came down to talk to the house elves. He graciously helped the house elves gather food and drink for Y/N, tying it up in a parcel. Remus might have been doing too much but Sirius was right, there was no harm in trying.

“Thank you so much,” Remus grinned as he took the food parcel.“Of course sir,” they said in tiny voices and Remus gave them one more smile as he left the kitchens.

Y/N was already waiting outside of the library, looking very beautiful and cosy in a yellow woollen jumper. She smiled when he saw that Remus was coming down the corridor, when she smiled her whole face seemed to light up, she was simply mesmerising.

“Am I late?” Remus asked biting his lip as he shook back his sleeve to look at his watch, he was certain that he had got the time right.

Y/N giggled at his worried expression and she shook her head, “don’t worry Remus, you’re right on time, I’m just early,” her eyes flickered over to the parcel and she raised an eyebrow in confusion, “what’s in the parcel?” she asked as they walked into the library.

“Oh, um. I thought that you might be hungry so I put together some food for us.”

Y/N flushed as she grinned over at him bashfully, “aw, Remus. That’s so sweet but I really don’t think that we’re allowed to eat in the library.”

Remus laughed as he winked at her and they found a table at the back of the library, “don’t worry, we’ll conceal it.”

Y/N nodded though she still looked a little unsure but when Remus pulled out some sugar coated strawberries she seemed to change her mind. She looked delighted as she took some strawberries from him and popped them into her mouth, moaning at the taste. Remus cleared his throat as his gaze dropped to her lips before he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What do you want to start with first Remus?” Y/N asked as she happily licked the sugar off her fingers.

Remus smiled as he pulled out his books, happy for a change of subject, “how about we start with Charms?”

Y/N let out a little groan as she nodded and pulled out her books and parchment paper, “please, it’s really kicking my arse this year,” she laughed.

Remus and Y/N had a test coming up the following week so they decided to test each other with flash cards with an incantation of a spell and what it did before performing the spell. As Y/N wrote down a couple of things on her flash cards Remus caught a glimpse of her writing and frowned, it looked very similar to the script that he had been seeing on the post it notes in his library book. The same post it notes on which he conversed with a mystery person, could it possibly be Y/N?

Remus shook his head like he had water in his ears, he wouldn’t get his hopes up like that, and he wouldn’t tell himself that it was Y/N. The script in which Y/N wrote in was very common for people their age but all the same he still felt that bitter sting of disappointment. Though, the chocolate that he had packed seemed to help and they even managed to keep the food concealed from Madam Pince which was a struggle in itself.

As Remus was explaining a flash card, Y/N’s eyes glazed over slightly and Remus was worried that he was boring her but he also noticed that her gaze was flicking down to her lips before back at his face. When Remus licked his lips on instinct he could have sworn that she blushed and Remus wondered whether he should make a move.

Fortunately, he didn’t need to ponder on it for too long because Y/N leaned forward and cupped Remus’ cheek. Remus gulped as he stopped talking and he put the flash card down. Y/N smiled a little as her thumb rubbed against his bottom lip before she leaned closer and pressed her lips against his. Remus sighed against her mouth happily as he kissed her back gently and they just kissed softly for a couple of moments.

When Remus’ hand went to her hair, Y/N seemed to come back to earth as she gasped and pulled away from him so quickly it was almost like he had burned her.

“Merlin, Remus! I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that, I think that I liked the way that you were talking,” she blushed, looking anywhere but him, “I’m sorry.”

Remus smiled as he cupped her cheek and she finally looked at him, tears gathering in her eyes, “you don’t need to apologise, if you hadn’t noticed Y/N, I kissed you back.”

She sniffled as she nodded slowly, “all the same it was inappropriate to kiss you without asking, it won’t happen again Remus, I promise. I shouldn’t have done that,” she looked back to her book, “we should probably get back to work if we want to pass this test,” she laughed as she tried to lighten the mood.

Remus nodded as his hand dropped from her cheek, for a couple of mere moments he felt like he was on top of the world. Unfortunately, he had come crashing back to earth with a bitter sting of rejection and disappointment. But if Y/N didn’t want to kiss him again then there was nothing that he could do about it.

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

You imagined that it would be very awkward between you and Remus considering the last time that you were alone together you completely lost your head and kissed him. Luckily, Remus was an amazing person and he was treating you like he normally did, perhaps he was a bit more teasing towards you but you didn’t mind, you liked the teasing side of him.

The memory of what happened in the library still made you blush; you couldn’t believe that you had kissed him, though you didn’t regret it, not one bit. However, there was something that you did regret, you regretted to lying to him about why you had kissed him.

You had kissed him because you were wondering – you even longed for it – what his lips felt like against yours. You so wished that you hadn’t lied to him but what else could you say?

Tonight there was a celebration for the Gryffindor Quidditch team because they had won yet another one of their matches and Sirius had even invited you and Lyra – who he was on good terms with again – to the party in the Gryffindor common room. Sirius had given you both the password and thankfully you got into the common room without too much issue. It was probably due to the fact that The Fat Lady’s portrait was littered with empty wine bottles and she hiccupped with a giggle as she admitted both you and Lyra.

As soon as you walked into the rowdy common room it looked like cannons of red and gold had exploded, there were decorations everywhere and confetti seemed to be falling from the ceiling. You vaguely wondered what the party would be like if Gryffindor ended up winning the Cup. From the far side of the room Remus caught your eye and waved as he grinned and walked towards you. You almost felt nervous.

“I’ll leave you with your boyfriend,” Lyra snickered, “I’m going to go and find Sirius.”

You glared at the retreating back of your best friend before you grinned at Remus and he enveloped you in a warm hug. You rested your cheek against the soft material of his jumper, inhaling the faint smell of cinnamon, “you Gryffindors seem to be unstoppable, thank you,” you added as you took the glass of Firewhisky that Remus offered you.

Remus smirked – why did he look so good when he did that? – as he ran a hand through his hair and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You glanced up at his flushed cheeks, the easy smile and his glazed over eyes, and you vaguely wondered how much he had to drink, “well we Gryffindors are a determined bunch, we usually get what we want. Usually,” he smiled down at you and you itched to kiss him again but you couldn’t and you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t get affection for one of your friends and affection for a lover mixed up, “you look really pretty by the way.”

You grinned down at your outfit as you played with your hair as you felt your cheeks heat up with delight and you took a long swig of your drink to try and hide it, “thanks Remus. Lyra lent this dress to me; she rejected all of my other choices. I really do hate these heels though, I don’t know how she wears them all the time,” you grimaced as you slipped the shoes off and rubbed the soles of your feet.

“Well, maybe I should thank her,” he grinned cheekily and you looked at him with an expression of amusement, Remus was much more confident when he had been drinking, it really suited him and you let him pull you into the middle of the room, “dance with me?”

At his suggestion you actually laughed out loud, you had never known Remus to be the one to offer a dance, “who are you and what have you done with Remus Lupin?” you grinned.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have him back tomorrow morning, with a wicked hangover no doubt but tonight, let’s just be a girl and a boy, not Y/N or Remus.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair as his arms wrapped around your waist, “I think I can roll with that,” you grinned.

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

@hp-imagines-07 @smiithys @siriusblackspam @pregnant-piggy @unexpectedurl @elayneblack @amelie-black @hxrgreeves @roseyrams @blackpinkdolan @yuptha-tsme @reylo-hope @emilianamason

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jamielea81 · 4 years

Text

Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 10

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, minor angst, FLUFF!!

A/N: This is NOT the final chapter. There is one more after this one that we’ll call a mini chapter or epilogue. Per the usual: this fic is simply for fun and I mean no disrespect to any of the actors mentioned in the fic. I am also totally guessing regarding the studio talk. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome.

Word Count: 4,167

Catch up with Chapter 9

***

Avoidance really wasn’t the word that you would use to describe what you were doing with Chris. You just didn’t know your place in his life and every day was getting harder to define that line. He was hot and cold with you. So, you kept your head down, figuratively of course, and tried to maintain that friendship line that he had put in place a couple of months ago.

After that night you agreed to work on his film, he came back to the bar during your next shift and hung out with you until close. He crashed your lunch date with Scott a few days later, showing up with a smile on his face and Scott lagging behind with eyebrows raised. But after that, you didn’t hear from him until a month before filming was to begin. It was a brief call to let you know you would receive your contract via carrier and that your flight would be arranged shortly. Filming would last two months but he wanted you to stick around an additional month when editing began because per Chris, he wanted your input. This project was his baby. His exact words were “I need you here.” How could you say no?

You were staying with Chris which is what made the avoidance or non-avoidance, whatever you were doing, hard to actually accomplish. You were fine with staying at the hotel the non-local crew were staying in, but Chris refused. He got very alpha with you on that topic and you had to admit, it turned you on a bit. But you couldn’t go there because Chris didn’t see you that way anymore.

The hot and cold thing was hard to describe. He’d casually throw his arm around you when the two of you were going over scenes, whether other people were around or not. He’d pull you into conversations with the AD and cinematographer to get your opinion, often keeping hold of your hand. The next day he’d be in a mood and barely speak to you, let alone glance your way. The cast would often look to you to be the go between because they knew he was in a mood. You knew it was stress. It had to be, but it doesn’t mean it didn’t confuse you. On those days you’d grab a bite to eat at a restaurant to give him space, often returning to your room in his house at night without as much as a hello.

Friendships are hard. That’s the bottom line.

***

“Adam! Reset! Jesus!” Chris yelled causing you to visibly wince. “Y/N!”

“I’m on it. I’m on it,” you mumbled mostly to yourself walking briskly towards Adam Scott who was getting touched up by makeup.

“He’s in a mood,” Adam sighed.

“It’s been a long week.” Why you were making excuses for Chris was beyond you. That’s all you been doing lately. “I think he wants a little more…” You gestured wildly with your hands. “Gusto. Yeah, gusto.”

Adam raised and eyebrow to you. “Gusto?”

“You know what I mean. He wants a big reaction, so give it to him. I thought the take was fine, but I’m not directing. Let’s give him that additional option.

Adam gave you a hint of a smile and nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Maybe I can do it better.”

“You’re the best,” you said over your shoulder as you walked back to Chris who chugging down a cup of coffee and going over notes.

“All good?”

“Yep. We’re ready whenever you are.” You plopped your butt in Chris’ chair since he preferred to stand during takes.

The scene ran again without interruption and the next scene was called for setup meaning you had about fifteen to twenty minutes.

Getting up from the canvas chair, you made your way to the coffee station in the far corner of the sound stage. The small liquid cream containers were missing from their designated bowl again which made your eyes roll. Someone was hogging them; you just didn’t know who.

“Shoot.”

Craft Services was an option, but you didn’t feel like making the trek across the lot. You picked up the powdered cream and mixed it into the paper cup. Powder is always a last resort. It never mixed properly and you could always taste it. But you were desperate for your caffeine fix.

“Liquid all gone?” Chris asked, stepping up beside you, grabbing his own fresh cup.

“Yes. Again!”

“I’ve got some in my trailer,” he offered.

“That’s not any closer than Craft Service, so you’re not helping,” you said dryly.

Chris chuckled lightly, turning to lean against the table as you mixed your cup with a flimsy plastic straw. “Glad to be done with that scene.”

“I’m glad you were happy with the last take,” you replied, turning around to lean next to him.

“Once Scott quits flirting, he does pretty good work.”

You choked on your coffee causing Chris to chuckle again. “Flirting with who?”

“You.”

“Adam is not flirting with me!” you shouted. “He’s married and has kids,” you said much softer, trying to control the level of your voice. “His wife was here last week. She asked me to join her book club for goodness sake.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he said, bringing the cup slowly to his lips, but keeping his eyes on you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you added with a head shake.

Yes, you fangirled when you met Adam for the first time. Parks and Recreation was one of your favorite shows. Still is.

“Adam is not a cheater and neither am I.”

“Maybe so, but you’re a liar.” Chris challenged.

Tears instantly welled in your eyes. You thought he was over it or at the very least accepted your apology. You bit your tongue, trying to find the right words and willing yourself not to cry at his remark.

“You’re lucky we’re at work, otherwise I’d tell you to go fuck yourself,” you said harshly before walking away.

Fuck him.

“Fahck. Y/N! Wait!” Chris called after you, quickly catching up.

You stopped abruptly, swinging around to face him. The action caught Chris off guard as you heard him suck in a breath as his eyebrows shot up.

“Not now,” you warned before turning back to where the next scene was being set up. “Are we all set?” you asked to no one in particular. It wasn’t your job to ask, but you needed the distraction and you weren’t in the mood to talk to Chris.

A couple of non-committal hums and murmured words were spoken. You kept your eyes on your script, scribbling nonsense among the various notes you had already written. Chris’ eyes were on you. You could feel them. But now was not the time to dive into what was going on between the two of you.

***

Immediately after the scene, you tucked your script in your armpit and pulled your phone out of your back pocket, hightailing it to your office.

Y/N: Can I stay with you tonight?

Chris wasn’t behind you, which was a good thing. You snuck out of there when you saw that he was stuck in a conversation with one of the producers. Making it to your office in record time, you shut the door and finally took a breath. Today was a day that you really appreciated having a door. Chris made sure that you had one, after you mentioned only having a desk on the last shoot. It really needed a lock though.

Darn lockless door.

Scott: I’m not staying with Jen. I’m at my mother’s.

You were desperate.

Y/N: Would she mind if you had a guest??

Two seconds later, your phone rang.

“Hi Scott.”

“Hi Y/N. Whaaaaaat’s going on?” Scott asked with amusement in his voice.

You blew out a breath, plopping yourself down on the small loveseat next to your desk. “He’s still mad at me.”

“Who’s mad at you?”

“Your brother. Who else?” Hearing the annoyance in your voice, you followed that up with a quiet, ‘sorry’.

“Oh boy. Well, I’m staying at Ma’s and don’t you think that would be an awkward conversation to have with her as to why you want to stay at her place?”

“Yeah,” you said softly.

“How do you know he’s still mad at you?” Scott asked.

“Well, besides the fact that he called me a liar this afternoon, he’s been hot and cold with me. He’s been real pissy at the crew as well.”

“You two.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, getting a little defensive.

“It means you really need to work your shit out.”

“Yeah, I know…But I don’t wanna.” Scott chuckled at your comment. “Could you come over? I could use a friend right now. I know he’s your brother, but if he’s just going to be moody, I don’t even want to go home.”

“He is my brother, but even I’m inclined to think he’s jerk now and again.” That made you smile. “I’ll stop by. Even pick up some pizza.”

“Thank you, my favorite Evans.”

“Appreciate the flattery sweetheart. See you later.”

“Bye, Scott.”

Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you let yourself sink into the sofa. Avoiding Chris forever was not an option, but at least with Scott there, you’d be able to keep your emotions under control for the night. The buzz of your phone brought your mind out of the fog like haze.

Chris: Are you heading home?

Home. Now that was a funny thing. When Chris wasn’t pushing you away, it did feel like home. But it wasn’t your home. Not really. You are a guest and Chris is your host.

Y/N: Yeah. Getting ready to take off for the day.

You chewed on your bottom lip waiting for his reply. You really hoped he wasn’t planning on stopping by your office before you left.

Your cell buzzed again indicating another text was received.

Chris: I have a few things to finish up here, then I’ll be home.

Deciding not to reply, you grabbed your bag, stuffed your script and laptop into it, and left the studio.

***

You cleaned up your room a bit, even though it wasn’t particularly dirty. The bed was made and besides a few pieces of clothing that didn’t make it into the hamper, it was mostly clean. Dodger was fed and you had let him outside when you first made it back to Chris’ house. Scott would be at the door any minute and you really hoped he’d beat Chris home. Why? Because apparently you were twelve years old again. You were one step away from locking yourself in your bedroom with angsty music from the nineties playing on full blast.

The doorbell rang and along with it, your body relaxed. Jogging to the door, you threw it open to let Scott in, who came armed with two cardboard pizza boxes.

“Hey sweets!”

You grabbed the boxes from his hands, bringing them both into the kitchen so that Scott could step out of his shoes.

“Thanks for dinner, bunches,” you replied.

“No problem.”

“Two though?” you asked, while grabbing a couple of plates from the cupboard.

Scott walked into the kitchen, giving you a hug from behind. “Even the jerk has to eat.”

“I suppose your right. I’m not sure when he’s going to be home. I’ll turn the oven on low and stick a few pieces on a cookie sheet to keep them warm.”

“So domestic!” Scott teased.

“Shut it bunches.”

Scott gasped out a laugh. “Are we throwing darts at Chris’ old head shots. I know where he hides them if that’s part of the plan.”

You turned around and threw your arms around him in a fit of giggles. “I’m so glad we’re friends.”

“Yeah, me too sweets,” Scott mumbled into your hair.

***

Scott had insisted on watching Spice World since you had never seen it, but you mentioned watching the Sandy Duncan version of Peter Pan when you were a kid and Scott couldn’t get it out of his head now. So, that’s what the two of you decided to watch. After a quick search YouTube, you found it and watched it through the Roku on the large flat screen in the living room. Sandy was flying around the Darlings’ bedroom when the front door opened.

“Hey. Didn’t know you were coming over tonight,” Chris said, presumably to Scott.

“Yeah, sweets and I are hanging out. Your welcome to join us,” Scott replied.

You kicked his foot with your own. Scott scowled at you and you shrugged your shoulders in return.

“There’s a…there’s pizza in the oven for you,” you said keep your eyes on the screen.

“Thanks,” Chris replied, flicking the back of Scott’s ear as he walked by.

“You can’t avoid him. And this is house, of course I’m going to offer that he joins us.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, eyes going back to the TV.

Chris walked back in the room a few minutes later, sitting in the arm chair that was angled toward the side of the couch you were sitting on. He kicked up his feet on the cushion your body was half laying half sitting on. Turning your head to look at him, he bounced his eyebrows at you before turning his head to the TV.

“Sandy Duncan? God, I used to love this.”

Scott shushed Chris and you smiled.

***

The video ended and you stood up to stretch, Scott following suit. Chris disappeared into the kitchen, presumably to grab another bottle of beer.

“Welp! I’m out of here,” Scott announced, walking to the door to slip his shoes back on.

“What?” you whispered yelled, following after him.

“You two need to talk. And I mean really talk. None of this, I forgive you bullshit, let’s be friends. You know it. He knows it. We all fucking know it.”

You stood there with your mouth agape letting his statement sink in.

“Night Chris!” Scott yelled with the door already open.

Chris jogged back into the room, two beers in his hand. “You taking off already?”

“Yeah, I’m beat. Talk to you both tomorrow,” he said, stepping out and closing the door.

You stood there starring at the closed door, clearly not sure what you were supposed to do in that moment. Turning around and facing away from a closed door was a good option. Deciding you’d been standing there a second too long, you turned around to see Chris looking at you with beers still in hand. A small smile tugged on your lips.

“Beer?” He offered taking a step closer to you.

Taking the last few steps to meet him, you took the bottle he offered from his hand, fingers grazing his. “Thanks. I’m probably going to head to my room for the night.”

“Wait. Please? Could we…talk for a minute?”

Bringing the bottle to your lips, you took a long pull before lowering it and nodding. The two of you turned back to the couch Scott and you had occupied moments before. You sat on opposite ends, but both turned to face one another. You finding comfort in your bottle which you drank from again, before noticing it was half gone.

Chris licked his lips, finger tapping audibly on the bottle. “I didn’t mean it. What I said earlier today when I called you a liar. I don’t truly believe that. I was being an asshole. I’m an asshole sometimes. I know that about myself.”

His honesty surprised you. You didn’t know how to answer, so you simply nodded.

“This movie is stressing me out. When it’s your movie, it’s a lot of pressure. I want to put out a good film, it needs to be good. So, all this pressure puts me on edge. Everyone’s doing a good job and doing what they should be doing, but I have these moments where it doesn’t feel right. It’s not perfect. If it’s not perfect I have to take the fall. Who’s going to fund a film with a shitty director who puts out a shitty product?”

“It’s not shitty, Chris. The play backs I’ve seen have been amazing.”

“It’s in my head though. I don’t think I’ll stop being stressed until it’s released to be honest.”

“I get it, but…”

“But that’s not the only thing,” he interrupted. “It’s us too. You.”

“Me?” you asked, eyebrows creasing.

“I’m honestly and completely not upset about the engagement thing. It was something you had to do for a job and I’m over it.” He runs a hand through his hair. “But we went right back as if nothing happened.”

“If you’re over it and you’ve forgiven me, why can’t we move on?” you asked honestly.

“I don’t want to move on as if nothing happened.” Chris closed his eyes, mouth opening as he pulled in a big breath. “That night where you told me the truth, I told you my truth as well. I’m crazy about you Y/N and it seems like we’ve forgotten all about that. And you kissed me! How can we act like none of that happened? That none of that mattered?”

“Figured you didn’t feel that way anymore,” you mumbled before clearing your throat. “That the lie was too big and the secret was too big that you didn’t see me like that. Like someone you could care about. More than a friend.”

Chris set his bottle on the coffee table and scooted closer to you on the couch. He grabbed the bottle from your hand, placing it beside his. He took both of your hands in his, playing with the ring on your right hand with his thumb.

“Not possible.”

The words were so simple yet so deep that you felt your heart banging wildly against your ribcage.

“I still want you. Want us,” you whispered.

Chris’ lips curved up into a hesitant opened mouth smile. He brought your hands to his mouth, kissing each one, before lowering them back down between you. “That’s all I want.”

You lifted yourself to your knees, leaning in closer to him, but wanting him to decide what happens next. You kissed him the first time, it was his turn to make the move.

It didn’t take him long to decide as he let go of one of your hands, bringing it to the back of your neck and pulling you down to his lips. They were as soft as you remembered. His kissed you tenderly, with no rush, as if the two of you had all night. You pulled back slightly and gave him a smile.

“That was nice,” you said softly.

“I’m not done.”

Chris pulled your mouth back to his, kissing you gently until you felt his tongue skim along your seam. You opened immediately, allowing him entrance. He rolled his tongue along yours as you trailed your hand up his chest, along his neck, and into his hair.

The two of you made out for what felt like hours. You straddled his lap and eventually he positioned you both so that you were laying on the couch. It was kept mostly PG13 with kisses, whispered words, and a lot of cuddling. It was nice. Better than nice and you knew this wouldn’t be the end of it.

***

Chris: Can you come to my trailer? We need to go over scene 28.

Scene 28 was code for ‘I want to kiss you’. The two of you had been sneaking around on set for a week. You still hadn’t gone further than second base which was fine by you since you wanted to take this slow. Plus, you were working together. Working together and starting up a relationship could be complicated. Filming would be wrapped in a couple of weeks, and you had already committed to staying an additional month for the start of editing.

Your relationship with Chris right now was in this tight fairytale bubble that you didn’t want to pop. There was no talk of the future. Not even talk about how you’d spend the holidays. Whether it was Chris or if it was all you, either way, you wanted to stay in this bubble.

You quickly grabbed your script along with a pen and made the quick walk from the studio offices to Chris’ trailer. The sneaking around was thrilling. It was your own private secret that only you and Chris shared. No one was following you, but you couldn’t help but glance behind you every few seconds.

You reached Chris’ trailer, knocking twice on the closed door. Chris opened it wide, looking around to see if anyone was watching the two of you. They weren’t.

“Hey! You wanted to go over that scene?” you asked too loudly.

“Ye-yeah. Come on in Y/N.”

They two of you were so good at this game.

You stepped in, shutting and locking the door behind you. Chris grabbed your script and pen before you had a chance to set them down. With his free hand, he grabbed your elbow and brought you to him, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered against your lips.

You gave him a chaste kiss. “I just saw you this morning.”

He kissed you again. “Yeah, that was hours ago.”

You laughed, wrapping both arms around his neck as Chris started walking the two of you backwards to the bedroom, his mouth never leaving yours. Your calves hit the end of the bed, so you lowered your bottom to the soft mattress. Chris lowered himself over you and dragged the two of you up the bed until your head hit the pillows.

“Can’t wait until we don’t have to hide this. Us,” he said against your ear, mouth leaving wet kisses along the length of your neck.

“Me too. This is fun though,” you moaned when his tongue traced the shell of your ear.

“It is. But I want to take you out and not have people whispering about us,” he said, causing you to giggle. “What?” His face pulled back to look at your own.

“Well, you are Chris Evans. They’re going to stare and whisper about you no matter what.”

“Shut it,” Chris replied, kissing your nose.

***

“Are you ready babe?” Chris called from the hallway outside your room.

“Just about,” you called back finishing your hair in the mirror attached to the closet door.

Grabbing your lip balm from the dresser, you stock it in the pocket of your jeans and joined Chris in the living room.

“Wow. You look great,” Chris drawled out.

You looked down at your dark jeans, boots, and burgundy sweater. “This?”

Chris wrapped you in his arms. “Just beautiful.”

You kissed his perfect pout. “You’re too kind Mr. Evans. Now, let’s go. I’m hungry.”

Chris interlaced your fingers and pulled you to the door.

Dinner was at Chris’ mother’s house tonight. It wasn’t the first time; in fact, it was the fifth time not including brunch one Sunday since you came to town. You had met the whole Evans clan minus his father and you truly liked them all. You missed your family back home in the Midwest, so being around a close bunch such as the Evans made you happy.

“Ma! We’re here!” Chris yelled as the two of you walked into her home.

“You don’t need me to make yourselves comfortable,” Lisa said, peeking her head outside the kitchen.

“Hi Lisa,” you said with a wave, Chris still holding your other hand.

“Hi sweetie. Dinner should be ready in five. You know where the drinks are.”

“Sure do.”

You pulled Chris in the kitchen with you, not that you needed him to accompany you, but he wouldn’t let go of your hand. Chris released your hand when you gave him a look. You needed both your hands to grab glasses from the upper cupboard after all.

Digging into the fridge, you pulled out a pitcher of lemonade no doubt made by Lisa that afternoon. You poured two glasses and put the pitcher back in the refrigerator before handing Chris his glass, only for him to set it on the counter. He took your free hand in his once again.

“Ma,” he said, Lisa turning from the stove to look at him. “I’d like you to meet Y/N.”

Lisa chuckled as did you. Her face one of confusion. “Christopher, are you feeling alright?”

“I’m feeling wonderful ma.”

Lisa stood in front of the two of you. “Then why are you introducing me to Y/N who I already know?”

“Well,” Chris started, coy smile on his face. “I’d like to introduce you to Y/N, my girlfriend.”

A surprised smile sprung up on your face as you squeezed Chris’ hand tightly.

“Oh! This is quite the development. When did this start?” she asked pointing between the two of you.

“A little more than two weeks ago,” he replied, throwing arm around your shoulder.

“Well, then I say, it’s about time,” Lisa replied, giving you a wink and turning back to the stove. “But how’s this going to work when Y/N goes back home to California?”

That was a question the two you in your fairytale bubble hadn’t yet discussed, but would need to.

***

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#chris evans #cevans #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fic #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans reader insert #just a simple lie #scott evans #scott evans x reader #adam scott

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elizabethsharmon · 4 years

Text

also thinking about the drama and angst that they’ve been setting up but we probably will never see cause they don’t have the range and prefer to pretend like everything is fine and post two highly edited photos on insta with one-word cliche captions... about eliott coming back home late at night from the filming, quietly going to the shower to not wake lucas up, only to find him standing outside of the bathroom as soon as he goes out, startling him... about them, lying in bed, eliott telling lucas about the filming and when he gets to the ending, to the words he wrote from the bottom of his heart just for lucas and to the k*ss, how suddenly lucas tenses and shuts his eyes even more, pretending to have fallen asleep just so he wouldn’t have to listen... how the next morning lucas makes crepes for both of them, how eliott wraps his arms around him and kisses him, but lucas doesn’t respond, just focuses on the task at hand... how lucas barely eats anything, just keeps playing with the food on his plate, how eliott asks him what’s wrong and he tries to pretend that it’s nothing, that he’s just stressed, but then eliott sees how glassy his eyes are and he doesn’t let go, how lucas finally breaks and deadpan asks him why he kept the k*ss in the script, why couldn’t he change it, why didn’t he tell him they would film in the middle of the night on friday when lucas wasn’t even studying, why he did it anyway... how lucas takes his books and notes and says he’s going to study with the boys, not saying when he’ll be back... how eliott waits for him all day, only to receive a late night text that he’s going to stay over at the coloc... how lucas posts some art on his insta, similar to the ashtray post from s3, captioning it only with 📎 how eliott sees it and only then realizes that this is more serious than he could imagine... how the next day, he goes to the coloc, determined to talk to him and explain everything, but mika and yann open the door, saying that lucas is not in a good place right now and he should give him some time... how behind the closed doors, boys are trying to pick him up and tell lucas to talk to eliott, to fix everything, but he just sniffles and starts revising again, trying to do anything to not think about it... how eliott gives him the time and space he needs, trying to reach him all the time though, posting drawings of hedgehog and raccoon on insta, letting lucas know that in case he foolishly forgets he’s never not thinking of him... how after the first day of the bac eliott comes to pick lucas up from school. a small buquet of flowers in hand, how lucas stops in track when he sees him waiting, but then he says goodbye to the boys and walks to him... how eliott asks him if he’s staying at the coloc again and lucas nods so eliott offers to walk him there, bashfully handing him the flowers... how they attempt to make some small talk, tiptoeing around the edges of what needs to be said and when they’re about to really talk, they bump into la mif and lola on the street, how quickly it becomes hectic and too much, how they keep talking to eliott about urbex, and the film, and now they’re talking to lucas and asking if they all want to hang out now, how it’s just too much and lucas tells him to go ahead but he’s going home... how eliott becomes hopeful for a moment when he thinks lucas means their flat but he corrects himself, says he’s going to the coloc and ignores how eliott’s face drops then, how eliott says that he’s walking lucas there so he can’t go with la mif, but lucas says that he should go for it, that he’s a big boy and can walk himself home and eliott shakes his head and wants to go with him but lucas says that he’s sorry, he can’t do this, he needs time... how he gives him back the flowers and walks away, without looking back, and when he disappears around the corner eliott swears, and throws the flowers away, how he’s close to losing it, because it feels like he already did, cause he lost him, didn’t he, so he weeps on the street... how la mif is there to take care of him and they go to the bar together, how eliott gets drunk s3 vodka-style cause he has no one, cause lucas was it for him and now he’s gone, he lost him because he took everything for granted... how he tries to get on with his life, to get up, go to classes, go to work, but the heartache is impossible, how he walks around the house wearing lucas’ clothes, how he still posts drawings even though they’re always left unanswered, how he gives lucas the time he needs... until one night, when he works at the video club and suddenly lucas is there, asking him if he has any film to recommend about a guy with trust issues who was so insecure about his relationship that he left but that didn’t make things better because it made him even more miserable because he can’t stop thinking about his love... how eliott says that no, he doesn’t, but he has a film about a guy who took everything that’s been given to him for granted and how he kept pushing those lines and the trust and pushing it until one moment it was too late and he’s lost everything that mattered to him because of his own stupidity... how lucas asks that what if it wasn’t all lost, how they both finally talk and heal and not let it destroy them and promise each other to always talk about stuff and to never hide things again... how lucas walks eliott back home, to their home and he stays, joking that mika was already close to kicking him out of the coloc and how he wants to come back either way cause he can’t sleep without eliott anymore, to which eliott only nods and says that he can’t either... how later eliott posts a photo of their itertwined hands on his insta and boys comment instantly that finally and he was so grumpy the last few days that we were close to ditching him to which lucas replies with a few eyeroll emojis but eliott shoots a quick i love when he’s grumpy and hugs him tight, not letting go of him, not ever again...

#anyway i want angst :)

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dorevenge · 3 years

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where ignorance is bliss - chapter 3: a young fellow

SUMMARY: Obadiah is back from Washington and surprises Maria with a belated birthday trip abroad. [AO3 LINK]

CHAPTERS: 1 2 [3] 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 ☆

November 16, 1959 – Bronx, New York, Obadiah’s Apartment

“Surprise, darling! Happy belated birthday.”

The door swings open, the jangle of keys alarming me, and I run to put his engagement ring back on, tossing the dirty apron back in the hamper. I greet him at the door, with a perfect smile, the image of everything he would want from me. I put the thick folder in the back of my mind, trying not to think about the bookshelf I shoved it behind.

Obie takes me into his arms. My face barely comes up to his collarbones. It was normally a sensation I craved after a long, stressful day, but when the person holding me is the source of my stress, the effect is not the same.

He takes a step back and takes my face into his weathered hands, his cold, tired eyes peering into mine. I try to keep eye contact and return the peaceful gaze. The pressure gets to me, so I reach up and pull his head towards mine.

We haven’t kissed in three months, and it’s almost like we’ve forgotten how. At least, I had forgotten how to enjoy it. His lips feel foreign between mine, like a stranger’s. Like someone I couldn’t trust.

When we break apart, his smile is as wide as his head. “I’ll take that as you missed me,” he says. “I got something for you.” He reaches down to the paper bags he had set at his feet when he arrived. He pulls out an envelope and two small, wrapped packages.

Obie leads me to the couch in the living room and sits me down, pushing the envelope in my hands first. He sits beside me, eager for me to open my gifts.

“Already? I didn’t even get to ask you how your flight was yet.” The envelope felt heavy with unknowing in my hands.

“My flight was uneventful. Please…” He gestures impatiently towards the gift in my lap.

I open the envelope gently. Inside, is a simple card, lilac with the words “Happy Birthday” written in a cursive script on the wrong. From within the card, two tickets fall into my lap.

“We’re going to Monaco?”

“Surprise again! I thought it would be a nice break from New York, get away before the holidays. And I feel terrible for leaving you alone for so long right after our engagement. From here on out, I will be an attentive partner to you.” His joy is so thickly spread across his face, it’s all I can do to smile in return and stare down at the tickets in my hands.

“Thank you, Obie, I-”

“You hate it.”

“No, love, I love it, and I love you,” I’m fumbling for my words, and I hope he doesn’t notice. “I’m just tired. It’s hard sleeping alone, and I’m still surprised that you’re here, let alone going taking a trip with you… Tomorrow?” I read the date on the tickets.

“Why wait? Then we can be back in time for Thanksgiving with your parents.” He kisses me on the forehead, content with my reaction, and stands. “I’m going to unpack my clothes from DC, then start repacking.”

November 20, 1959 – Monaco, France, The Hellfire Club

Obadiah was not a betting man, but he seemed at home at the Hellfire Club & Casino like a Protestant in church. He “enjoyed the company of the machines that controlled men’s fates,” but I imagine he enjoyed thinking he had more willpower than the men who squandered their paychecks and had to return home to their wives with their head between their tails, lying about the state of their finances.

It turns out he had business in Monaco, and surprising me with a late birthday trip seemed easier than leaving me for work again. I was left to my own devices again, but this time it was in a foreign country. I had studied abroad in France my junior year of college, so it wasn’t like I couldn’t talk to anyone here, but rather I have no desire to even leave the room.

Obie would meet me back at the hotel room at night, and we would often play a game of chess before bed. Playing chess with him was one of the best ways to pass the time. It keeps him quiet from rambling on about things I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about, details about materials and manufacturing and marketing. I did the accounting for Stane International, as that’s what I had studied in school, and as long as the numbers added up, I was content. And for every chess game I won, Obie paid me what we had bet, fueling my addiction to the finer things in life. I purchased more purses and linens and dresses and shoes than I would care to admit, but as long as the numbers added up – and as long as I hid the packages at Peggy’s – he didn’t complain.

The Hellfire Club is unusually classy for Obie’s taste; I’ve already started to resent his cheapness and penny-pinching, and we hadn’t even set a wedding date yet. I should have noticed that sooner. Here, gold decorates every pillar and billiard ball, marble fountains and silver pens, a gratuitous buffet and generous décor around every corner. Whoever the owner is has taste and luxury in excess. I am a girl with champagne taste engaged to a cheapskate.

Obadiah had spent the last four days in meetings from sunrise to sunset, and I am bored out of my mind. I have no interest in day-drinking, I’ve already read every book the front desk has to offer, and the pictures playing down the block don’t spark my curiosity. I feel like a tiger pacing its cage in a zoo, and I am ready to pounce.

Touching up my red lip and pinned curls, I leave the room and exit the elevator. I feel the turn of men’s heads like a gravitational pull, the clack of my heels leading the charge, and I’m embarrassed to admit how much I miss that attention. I know how this dress fits, I know how the color complements me; just because I’m an educated woman doesn’t mean I’m not a human one.

I have hours to kill before Obie will direct his attention to me again, so I stride right into the room full of betting games and tables. I pause in the doorway, taking in the sight – and cigar smoke – of men shuffling cards and chips like it means something, until I recognize one of the tables.

I had learned baccarat in my time in France, and despite never fully grasping the French language, I played their game very well. Like all of the casino’s games, the house has the edge, but my host family had taught me their tricks, and I could keep track of the location of every card once I saw it. This casino plays the punto banco style, which is where I excelled.

The first three hours, I did very well. I did so well that the waitstaff came to watch over my shoulder to assure I wasn’t cheating. I had almost doubled Obie’s entire investment portfolio, at least the one I had access to, using his information to start the hand but relying on my winnings to keep me afloat. But after three hours, I got – as I often do these days – bored. Keeping track of the calculations of the face value no longer keeps me entertained. So I start losing. Maximum bets net maximum losses.

I don’t know why I find so much joy in draining Obie’s savings, linked to the banking information from his hotel reservation. I don’t hate the man, but I don’t think I could ever love him. He has done nothing cruel to me, nothing unjust, or even unkind – but I don’t think he loves me either. I am comfortable and convenient; I straighten his ties and predict his chess moves and shake the hands of men he so desperately wants to impress. When you come from money, you learn to smell desperation a mile away, and Obadiah reeks of it. Every privileged man he meets can smell it, too, and until he can mask it, Stane International won’t become that international.

He’s just so boring. He fixates on the most minute details of his plans, his inventions take priority, and I think if I hurt him here, he would finally pay more attention to me than his baubles.

The chip pile, once mountainous, dwindles, replenishing when I transfer more funds, then drain once again. The staff look at me puzzled, wondering what happened to my blaze of glory, and I ask myself the same question as I feel myself go robotic and glassy-eyed. Twisting the probability on its head, I play the moves in the house’s favor, leaving nothing behind but a tray full of cigarette ash and empty champagne classes.

It dawns on me that this game of baccarat reflected Obie’s and my relationship. I feed his ego, his business deals, and checkbooks, and what did I have to show for it? A cheap steel ring, a prolonged engagement with no date in sight, and still living in my childhood bedroom with my parents in Southampton.

As I drain my last glass, several tall men in nice suits approach me, stern looks on their faces. I straighten in my seat.

“Ms. Carbonell?” one of them asks to confirm my identity in an American accent.

“Is there a problem?”

“You’ve attracted our attention with your gameplay. What are your intentions here at the Hellfire Club?”

I blink at the empty glass in my hand, just a hint of the red wine remaining on the bottom swirling at its base. “To win.”

“Looks like you’re not doing much of that now.”

“Winning got boring,” I shrug.

“Please come with us, Ms. Carbonell.”

“I’d rather stay here and keep losing.”

One of the men places a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll come with us now. The owner of the Roxxon Corporation would like to speak to you.” I’m suddenly on my feet.

#where ignorance is bliss #wiib reading #iron man #marvel #what if #canary writes a fanfiction

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revisionaryhistory · 3 years

Text

Three Days ~ 71

~*~Emma~*~

For the rest of the trip, we relaxed listening to music. Before Sebastian had asked, I’d not thought too much about what I was going to do. Further limiting my time was a given, but I hadn’t thought about what that would look like. Talking about not waking up at “home” with my mom, dad, twin sister, and niece should have bothered me more than it did. That it didn’t, tells me it’s the right decision. One of the side effects of putting up with shit too long is once you decide to stop it’s not that big of a deal. Something inside has been moving in that direction for some time. What Sebastian had said about not sacrificing myself was on target. That I would do what it takes to take care of my sister isn’t in question. It’s been proven.

I texted Angie from the Uber to Sebastian's apartment. We were going to start up at Chelsea and Union Square with Aritzia, Anthropologie, and Free People. Those were sure thing stores, but not always original. We'd weave our way through Chelsea and into Soho. That shop Seb and I found would be last. We'd stop for lunch when we got hungry.

Angie hopped on the subway and headed to Union Square. It would take her thirty minutes and me fifteen from Sebastian’s place. Plenty of time to relax and watch Sebastian gather what he needed to work on. I saw a script, notebook, and a couple of real books. I think I'd find it fascinating to watch his process, but more importantly this time I wanted him to know I had friends and could amuse myself. I didn't care that he needed work time and I wasn’t going to need something from him for ignoring me. Doing things independent of your partner was important.

I grabbed a bottle of water for my journey and made my way to where Sebastian sat. He moved the items in his lap, making room for me to sit down. He supported my back and rubbed along my leg. "What are you shopping for?"

"Whatever I find." I smiled sneakily, "Especially if find something for Paris, our first date, and our live music fun tonight."

Sebastian’s hand made it to my ass, "When I think of live music I picture short, revealing, sexy."

"I love how you think." I ran my fingers through his hair. "Can I bother you for five minutes?"

"Sure" His eyes held questions.

I pulled his head closer, pressing my lips to his until he caught on and joined in the fun.

Our little mini make out session was going to make me late. Assuming Angie left as soon as we texted, walked straight onto a train, and there were no delays. None of these were likely. She'd forgive my lateness anyway. I looped my crossbody bag over my head, "I'll text if it's anything other than seven."

"Ok." He ran toward the kitchen. "Hang on." I heard a drawer slam before he reversed direction and came back. Sebastian held up a key, the slightest smile appearing on his face, "In case I'm in the shower or something when you come back. You remember the code?"

"Yes." I'd punched it in when we got here less than half an hour ago. He was nervous. I admit I had to focus to keep my hand steady as I took his offering. "I love you."

Sebastian opened the door and gave me a quick kiss as I walked out. "Love you, too."

I was a couple of steps away when I heard my name.

"Emma, put it on your key ring so you don't lose it."

The door closed before I could reply. I guess that eliminates any question if the key was a temporary just in case he was in the shower today sort of thing. What made me smile the most was the lack of conversation. If he'd overthought the decision, he didn't feel the need to talk it through. No discussion about what it meant or didn't mean. He may have been nervous, but he wasn't uncomfortable. I seriously doubt he's in the habit of giving out keys to his place, so nervous but not uncomfortable was good.

Angie was leaning against the building when I walked up. We hugged like we hadn't seen each other in months. "Sorry, I’m late."

"Were you having sex? I'll forgive you if you were having sex."

I grimaced with a shake of my head, "Making out."

My best friend huffed out a breath, "Close enough." She held the door open for me, "I got here like two minutes ago."

Aritzia, Anthropologie, and Free People were right in a line. We'd hit them in my favorite order. Aritizia was more comfort clothes for me. Their clothes were more staples than fun. But today I found a gorgeous Sicily sweater and cardigan in a soft heathered cashmere. A pair of tie front pants in purple plaid would look awesome for wandering museums. Anthropologie gifted me with a sequined tunic dress for a night out. A simple black midi dress, a grey-blue fringed and a textured cardi, and a long black wrap jacket. Free People had a colorful mini dress, a definite statement Hyacinth dress, and a fun floral dress. Assorted other things went into my bags too. I went a little crazy, but in my defense, I hadn’t been shopping in a long time and my best friend was egging me on. Plus, there was someone to appreciate what I wore. I had all sorts of cute clothes, but dressing for a boyfriend was different. Especially one who liked to look. I knew what he liked and indulged.

Conversation while we shopped was mostly about the shopping. It's good to have a friend who'll not only tell you something makes your ass look fat but also say, "You look amazing but where the fuck are you gonna wear that more than once?" Part of the fun was trying on horrifying things. Those things you don't understand how they were ever made. We'd mix those in with good stuff and laugh until we cried. We had a long-standing tradition that whoever found the most "exquisite" outfit was treated to lunch. We were pretty even and had pictures for documentation. Today I would be buying lunch.

"We’ve got a table at two. Alissa's going to meet us."

"That'll be fun. Are she and Will coming tonight?"

"I don't think so. They've got a family thing."

I nodded and we headed toward Chelsea, stopping at the Guitar Store for strings and a capo. We had plenty of time so we stopped anywhere else that caught our eyes. Walking was more private and so was our conversation.

"Anything I should know about before I see you tonight with your boyfriend?"

I sighed in relief. Finally. I bumped her hip with mine, "I love him."

Angie put her arm around me, "This is not news, Emma."

We shared a laugh. "I wasn't sure until I was in the cab leaving his place. Georgia solidified it. Sebastian was so good talking me through all their shit. He and Eli have more in common now. They both hate my parents."

"Eli doesn't hate your parents."

I pulled away, looking at her with raised eyebrows and clear disbelief written on my face. "Try again."

Angie spoke through our laughter, "Eli tries not to, but they make it truly hard. I think he'd be more forgiving if you didn't have us and your Seattle family. Eli loves you like a little sister, best friend, and some weird second wife he's never fucked. He’s protective. He and Sebastian are going to have to figure out how to share."

"They'll arm wrestle or something. Then maybe you'll become Sebastian’s little sister, friend, and second girlfriend. Ooo, we could use you to confuse the fans. If we're out and get seen we can trade off and kiss each other’s dates. Set up a different narrative."

"Good idea.

“It'll be more fun for you. I have kissed Eli, but you don't know about Seb."

"I doubt anything will become so severe that making out with Sebastian is the answer." She smiled, "Not that I would mind."

"You would not mind. He's one hell of a good kisser."

She backtracked, "Who said it first? How did it happen."

"He surprised me showing up early from Canada, watched me cleaning up my classroom for a minute, then told me the song I was dancing along to was about sex. I turned around and he had on those ears. He looked so adorable. He looked at me with his mouth and eyes open wide and said, “Fuck, I love you."

Angie slapped her hand on her chest, "He didn't know until right them." She gasped, "He came in wearing those ears to be cute and winds up telling you he loves you. He is adorable.” She glared at me, "And you said it back."

I nodded, “In Romania."

"What's up with learning Romanian?"

I trusted her with everything. "It's his name. He prefers it in Romanian. I've been learning just enough to add it to his name. It has a very nice effect on him.” I remembered the wall and shook myself out of the memory. “Plus it makes him happy.”

"And you’re happy?"

I nodded, "Incredibly. All the reasons we talked about are still going on. He adores me and it's clear by how he treats me. And I love taking care of him." I knew she’d understand what I meant.

"There is nothing better in the world. I'm so happy you have someone. It had been so long I thought you were intentionally keeping everyone away."

“Just waiting for the right one." I pulled out my key chain. "I do have a new key."

Angie snatched it, "He keyed you!"

"Looks like it."

"Do you worry this is going fast? I mean it is going fast."

"Yes. It is going fast. There is a risk that maybe this time next year we could be married, have three kids, and signing our divorce papers." I barely made it through without laughing.

Angie snorted, "Sign a prenup so you don’t have to pay alimony when his mid-life crisis tanks his career."

"I talked to Trevor about Sebastian. He knows about my parents, Amy, rehab, and how shitty they can be to me, but he doesn't how about what happened." I stopped walking and looked at her. "I'm starting to feel ashamed for not telling him. That's never happened before." Relationship or friendship. It had never happened. I looked at the most recent member of my secret club. "I don't want to."

She understood, "Why?"

"I don't want him to change the way he looks at me."

Angie smiled, "He won't. You don’t know that yet. It's only been a month. When you know, you'll tell him, and he will look at you just the same or better than he does now. It'll be fine."

"How do you know?" It wasn’t a smart assed clap back. I sincerely wanted to know her reasoning.

"Because he feels different to you and about you. You’re both sharing things neither of you share. That’s the glue for your relationship. You’re adding a little more glue, letting it set up, then adding more. It's getting stronger and eventually, you'll both tell the big secrets and it will be like a layer of epoxy around you that will make you near impossible to break.”

"I like that."

"I speak the truth."

We beat Alissa to the restaurant and ordered a pitcher of margaritas. I was still rearranging and shoving bags into bags under the table when she got there. Angie jumped up and they hugged. I took a step closer, but instead of hugging me, Alissa looked at me warily. “Is it ok for me to be here? Angie said it would be.”

I looked at Angie then back to Alissa, “Why wouldn’t it be?” Oh, what the fuck was going on? I just wanted a nice drunken late lunch with friends after a successful shopping expedition then go home and make out some more with my hot boyfriend.

Alissa grimaced, “I’m sorry for saying all that about Sebastian.”

“Oh!” I laughed and put my hand on my chest. Relieved. I pulled her into a hug, “I’m not upset. Between you and Kirk and the shit Eli told him, we had a somewhat uncomfortable, but really good conversation.”

“Good.” We sat down and Alissa kept talking. “I didn’t mean to be negative. It was just strange. How he was acting and the things you were saying. In a good way. It didn’t come out that way.”

Why is she still . . . oh. “Sebastian said something.”

She cringed, “More of a small group WhatsApp with me and Kirk.”

I laughed again. “Sounds fun.” I sort of wish he hadn’t done that, but I understand why he did. In the end, it was a good thing, but they couldn’t know if I would be scared off by their words.

Angie jumped in, “There’s no way Emma didn’t talk that through.”

Alissa didn’t know me well enough yet to know I wouldn’t let the conversation fester. “Especially with us being a thousand miles apart for the next two weeks. Why is that distance makes time seem longer?”

“I don’t know, but it does. Seb was right to be angry. We could have screwed things up. Neither of us realized how important you were to him. He was worried. That’s more like Seb. Kinda. He’s confusing.”

I think I know what she’s going for. It’s very like him to be worried, but not so much calling out a friend about a girlfriend. From what we’ve talked about and what I learned on that post he’s not had a history of defending girlfriends. I could be wrong, but I don’t think so. I wasn’t willing to go into that here. I changed the subject. “And then he goes and tells Will to post a picture of us.”

Alissa nodded, “How’d he react to the comment saying he was going to propose?”

Angie started laughing, “She’d say no.”

“I told him not to. He’d need a good reason. Like he’s actually not a citizen and needs a marriage green card. Or maybe health insurance. I have good health insurance.”

That was the end of that and we went on to other topics. Alissa and Will were having dinner with family but would come by Bowery Ballroom if they were done early. Keaton and Eli’s bands were friends and often teamed up to fill a bigger hall and split the money. They usually made more that way than in one of the smaller halls. Both did a full set and even though Keaton was the bigger name they would trade off who opened. Tonight was Eli’s turn.

We split up outside the restaurant. Alissa going back home and Angie and I heading to the boutique by Sebastian’s. It wasn’t a horrible walk, but we had a lot of bags. In the cab, Angie gave me a look. One I could read perfectly. She wanted to know what I’d avoided at lunch. I like Alissa and I’d say we’re friends. She’s also married to one of Sebastian’s best friends. I didn’t know what the line was. Not for Sebastian. He’d tell me to do what I wanted. The line was mine. Will and Alissa were still enough strangers to me that I wasn’t comfortable with too much information flow between all of us. I wouldn’t think anything of it with Angie and Eli and I was confident that given some more time it would be the same with Will and Alissa. Also, I didn’t know how intimate of conversations Sebastian had with his friends. I’d need to be around more to know.

I’d told Angie about our conversation after the party. In general. With what Alissa had said I went into a little more detail, filled in holes, and answered questions. I watched her thinking. I knew what was coming and was glad for it. “Are you worried? I’d be worried. Maybe not worried. Concerned. It’s like being a rebound. You’re the first after something else, only the something else is personal growth. You don’t know if he’s going to go back. You know what I mean?”

I did. “If he wasn’t so forthcoming with talking about it, I would be concerned. He’s laid it all out there. What he’s done, not done, feels bad about. He doesn’t act like that with me. If he starts too, I’ll know what's going on.” I told her about the conversation on the deck where he did want to shut down and how we got through it. “Struggling with change doesn’t bother me. All the girlfriend stuff.” I shook my head and shrugged. “We’re going to have to figure out what both of us are good with. I think I’m going to be able to not get sucked into comments or let them get to me, but I don’t know for sure. I know private is ok, but I’m not ok with being denied. I’d feel like a dirty little secret. I could change my mind. Could be next week. No idea.”

Angie took my hand, “I still get hate from Eli’s fans. We had to figure out how to deal. You guys will too. The rest, I think you’re right. If he’d gotten pissy and refused to talk about what Alissa and Kirk had said it would be a problem. Everybody gets a chance to do things differently. I don’t for one second think you’re going in blind or overlooking things because you want a boyfriend. You’d walk away if he wasn’t treating you right.” She got the look she gets when she’s about to tell me something I don’t like. I know that look, because I have the same one. “I’m one hundred percent not saying now. Way too soon. You’re already started to feel ashamed and that’s not going to get better. Might not get worse, but it’s not going to get better. You are the bravest person I know. Don’t let being afraid of your past ruin your future.”

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #fanfiction #sebastian stan X ofc #marvel actor fanfiction

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ambvrs · 4 years

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[ HANDE ERCEL, CIS FEMALE, SHE / HER ] shh ! JOSEPHINE AYDIN, the TWENTY ONE year old SECOND year GRAPHIC DESIGN & CREATIVE WRITING major from EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND, is known as an AMBER around here. SHE was invited to join because SHE UNEARTHED STRATHMORE'S BEST KEPT SECRET, and now, they’re here to stay. SHE reminds me of HOT CUPS OF COFFEE CRADLED IN SWEATER - CLAD HANDS, KNOWING GAZE CAST OVER THE PAGES OF A WELL - VERSED NOVEL, & RIBBONS TYING BACK SEA OF DARK CURLS.

hello friends 🥺👉👈 i’m andie ( she / her, twenty one, est, no stable sleep schedule ) & i’m here to bring my precious babie, the second - year amber, josephine aydin ! i’ve included a link to her google docs ( which is extra as all hell, please don’t @ me ) which has most of the information i have on her, but for everyone’s sake, i’ll include some tl;dr bullet points here !

biography .

josephine’s google doc includes a stat breakdown, how she’s perceived by a number of people, her aesthetics, a more or less biography ( which apparently i’ve basically detailed below i am too long winded for my own good ), and a handful of wanted connections ! i’ll have it up on a page on her blog soon !

the basics .

third youngest of the aydin children, josephine was constantly overlooked in favor of her established prodigy siblings; a brother who inherited mother’s natural skill for music and a sister who, while not musically inclined, took after her mother’s obvious drive for ambition. perhaps she’d be a doctor like her father, top of her class and a prime candidate at any prestigious medical school, or an actress, for she already commanded the stage well. but josephine showed no interest in any of those things, so unlike her family that most forgot she bore the aydin name.

a youth best spent in shadows, at siblings every performance and undoubtedly their number one fan. she didn’t blame them for her parents disinterest in her, and for what it’s worth, they were always the ones most willing to get her to step out of comfort zone. to try new hobbies and activities her parents had discarded for her. she was still young, but her siblings offered her an unwavering support just as she did them.

a wild imagination and an eye for finer details lead her to be a publish writer, even if it’s in just the smallest sections of the school newspaper or your english teacher’s bulletin board. an avid member of the writing club, the school book club, and a visitor to most art classes, she took more joy in what is hidden within books and on paper than how she appeared to others. she took great pride in her work, of course, but she almost never called attention to herself; growing up sheltered from the critical eyes of others will do that to you.

( death mention tw ) short stories that detail her siblings as knights and fair maidens and her parents as the evil that plagues the kingdom, it’s no wonder her parents were never privy to her interest. but for every story detailing them as her savior, she could only wish to be theirs when news of their death reaches her. both killed under mysterious circumstances in their childhood home while parents were away and she was on a school trip, she bears their death as though she’s at fault. as if she could have done anything to save them, and she would’ve done it all, if she could.

the end of her secondary school career is plagued by their loss, one that weighs heavily on her shoulders and heart. parents who can’t bear to look at her as a reminder of what they’ve lost, who push her so far away that her only solace is strathmore, an entire country away. they do not bid her farewell and she does not seek their approval when it comes time to decide her future’s path. a double major in creative writing and graphic design, a knack for creativity finally unlocked.

no longer the other aydin, she created herself as josephine within strathmore’s walls, her own dreams and ambitions and no more crushing weight of parent’s expectations. but it is a dangerous line she walks, always too curious, too used to being a fly on the wall, for her own good and innocent research into any number of topics - history of the school you now call home, of words she heard whispered like a ghost in the wind. as if they hadn’t been real at all. it’s in the midst of researching for a story when she stumbles across something more concrete, the same latin words whispered now doting some of the oldest books the library held.

it’s a rabbit hole she can’t pull herself from, free time spent learning about a society so secret that it’s mere existence seemed like a myth. she doesn’t put much stock in it, of course, surely it had slipped away like most clubs do over time, until the mysterious individual stood waiting outside her dorm at the start of the year, equally as questionable invitation in hand. symbols and latin both equally recognized, instinct tells her that she’s dug too deep and they’re ready to keep her quiet. but it’s not near as malicious as over - active imagination declares and she finds herself at a small advantage. but how advantageous was it to know of secrets that were kept that way for a reason ?

the opal society is sketchy in the way she imagined most things of this nature to be, right up there with questionable greek life activities behind closed doors, but there is excitement that buds eagerly in her chest. a chance to be a part of something bigger than herself, to know she was picked out of thousands to uphold a legacy that stands for more than what most would think. she'd made friends easily enough before this, but now she has friends that she shares something special with, an experience as trying as it was bonding, and she couldn't be more excited for what was to come.

more aesthetics .

glossy lips tinted strawberry red curled into ghost of a smile, cheeks kissed by the winter wind, the habitual tugging of a loose thread from worn sweaters and pressed button - downs, elegant script turned messy scrawl in a flurry of last minute notes, the pastel color coordination of detailed notes; so well kept that it’s impossible not to follow, polaroid photos strung above dorm room bed; memories always kept so close to heart, cracked spines of leather bound books read too many times, the feeling of cool metal jewelry pressed flush against skin; dainty silver professing an obvious delicacy.

wanted connections .

the fellow creator. someone with a craft all of their own, be it a shared interest in the literary arts, a visual artist, or musical prodigy. perhaps they share it as an interest, or is something they've both managed to excel at.

the unlikely friend. someone she never would have crossed paths with outside of the opal society, who she would never have befriended otherwise. not because they differ so greatly that a friendship was impossible, but because they never would interacted on campus.

the rival. perhaps it is a rivalry that stems from knee - jerk dislike, or someone that rubbed her the wrong way or with equally notable skill in an area she considers herself just as adept. always at each other just trying to be the absolute best at whatever they do.

drinking buddies. for as quiet as she is, she’s a whole other person when loosened up by alcohol. someone she can share a few drinks with and just hang out with for hours at a time.

conspiracy theorist. i’m not saying that josie fully believes in conspiracy theories, at least not outwardly, but she definitely enjoys them conceptually and will broach them for hours with you. please don’t enable her.

this tag ( that i’m not directly linking bc aesthetic tags are the Devil ) and this tag !

anything and everything thank you please plot with me i like memes

#opalsintro #please take tldr bullet points very loosely i am so sorry #death mention tw

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monleonrpg · 3 years

Photo

WELCOME TO MONLEON:

FULL NAME: Quinn Bardot Wilde

OCCUPATION: News Anchor, Talk Show Host

AGE & D.O.B.: 36, 31 October 1984

RESIDENCE: Forcebadón

HOW LONG THEY’VE BEEN IN TOWN: On-and-off since birth

BIOGRAPHY:

Cue mark. Lights. Adjust the producer’s speaker into pearl-drop ear, as a squad blots on matte powder, combs out butter wave curls. Line paper stack against polished desk with two hits, shoot smooth scorpion retort at the co-anchor, flash that stained-lip smile and countdown three, two, one…

Quinn Bardot was ushered into this world on All Hallow’s Eve, alongside wayward spirits and bed sheet covered rascals, celebrated by miniature candies her father couldn’t pass-out from the front porch. This was the introduction to a woman with a life tied to bewitch, enthral. Raised by a commercial fisherman, Quinn earned her sea legs before she could properly walk - ever the babbling, feisty, curious little creature, entertaining the fish and her father’s colleagues with ridiculous stories rivalling shanties. A daring little thing, always risking safety or ease in exchange for a rush-filled dive, a four-wheeling race through the outskirts of town. The Bardot’s were far from living a cushioned lifestyle, and young Quinn took up odd-jobs on the bay when catch was low or competition high, from cleaning out the decks of boats tied at harbour to manning the dock’s supply shop. Her favourite aspect to time earning crinkled cash was reading the morning headlines, or exploring the waters on high-speed motorboats, investigating whatever ridiculous tales were conjured by friends at school. Eventually, this lead to a realisation that she was destined for investigative journalism, with a face fit for broadcast and the daring confidence to push her way out of town to pave her own glory.

At eighteen, Quinn left for university studying broadcast journalism. Her professors thought the small-town little madam had the sharp tack tenacity for a long-haul career if she could stomach the industry. Ruthless, broadcast could swallow hopeful girls with limelight dreams whole. But she persisted, through internships of sore feet, coffee runs, errands. Her own lofty dreams envisioned a stint in New York, or a jet setting career without even a single place for home, following hot leads, providing audiences across the globe with hard-hitting truths and salacious, thought-provoking stories. After graduating, Quinn took an assistant’s job in Monleon, from copying scripts, chasing leads, to clutching her mic on a strange location. The days were long, nights longer, indulging in her old-age tomfoolery to burn the candle at both ends. But this exhaustive approach to life was getting noticed. Soon, she was churning out stories that bumped viewing stats. Progressing from stand-in reporter to a network correspondent. Compiling a plan to build her own success, shift into a global pursuer of truth, knowing the risk and toils she’d still need to face in order to achieve it. But she was hungry, scrappy, passionate about her own work.

Everything changed when Quinn met her husband, a Wilde son who made a staple name for himself in Monleon due to his numerous ventures and amassed stakes in several businesses. He was an empire, a sharp-toothed lion in the form of a charmer. He came to her hard, fast, withstood her own game of cat and mouse, offered her ease on a gilded platter. Their courtship was a blur, and with it, came the offer of an anchor position on the morning news. Soon, the spitfire Bardot became a household name, easing in thousands of viewers each morning. Risky stories were replaced with smiles, accompanied by oohs an ahs. Quinn shifted out of muddied boots, into country club committee. The ideal wife, the postcard mother of two (one boy, followed by a girl), complete with an enviable prime real estate in Foncebadon, appointments and excursions booked for months, and a talk-show contract. Oddly, this surge of prosperity has rested with her chest like a pitted burden as of late. A trapped bird. Too aware of the darkness resting behind pristine fences, elaborate portrayals, perceived happiness. Quinn feels as though she’s spiralling out of her own control in this projected life, the dangers that risk to be brought to the surface, if anything slips. She remains as sharp as ever, pursuing whatever she can to keep bits and pieces of herself, but knowing how critical it is to continue gently toeing the tightrope of her own reputation.

QUINN WILDE is portrayed by ANNABELLE WALLIS and written by CAIT.

#a #f

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komahinasecretexchange · 4 years

Text

Title: Just As Scripted

Author: @ShatterGlassCeilings / @ask-the-sakamaki

For: @namsuuuuuuu

Rating/Warnings: None

Prompt: Marriage Proposal

Author’s notes: N/A

Hajime walked into his cabin with his hands filled with everything he needed to devise his plans. After spending the last month getting opinions from all of his friends, he finally pulled himself together and decided that it was finally time to pop the question. First things first, making Nagito’s favorite dish from scratch.

Upon returning to Jabberwock island, it sunk in that that would be his home for the rest of time. He’d be stuck here with most of his classmates, left to do as they pleased. The thought was scary, if he was honest. He knew because of the catastrophe that much needed to be rebuilt and his home before all this madness was no longer waiting for him, but he missed it. There was still so much he wanted to see and do.

“Hajime?” He jumped, whipping around to see Nagito walked up to him. He waved his prosthetic hand with a little smile. “It’s time to get off the boat.”

He could suddenly feel his feet again, helping him stand on the sturdy wood deck. His arms tingled as he moved them after being locked for so long. There was a beat of silence as Hajime stared out at Jabberwock, then to Nagito. He watched as Nagito held out his good hand for him, his small smile unwavering as he waited for Hajime to grab ahold of him.

It was then he realised he wasn’t really afraid. He wasn’t terrified of staying on the island, nor was he scared of Nagito like he was after the first trial in the simulation. He wasn’t a new person entirely. Everyone was relatively the same in their own way, but they had all grown from where they used to be. This Nagito was different, but so familiar in all the ways he craved that it didn’t take him long to hold his hand, returning the smile.

The rest of his uncertainty vanished as they stepped off the boat. He felt his hand be squeezed as the boat began to sail away into the distance. The sun was beginning to set, and the stars began to peak out from behind the clouds in no time. He dared to sneak a glance at Nagito, who was staring up at the sky with wide eyes, as if he’d never have this sight and experience again.

Hajime made a note to himself to take him out again soon. To knock on his door in the night and take him by his hand and guide him to the beach. He’d lay out a blanket and they’d lie in silence and stare out at the stars until the rolling breeze off the sea chilled them to the bone. Then he’d bundle up the blanket and drape it around their shoulders before navigating them in the dark back to the hotel. Share a goodbye at Nagito’s doorstep, then head back to his own room with a goofy smile on his lips.

He wasn’t afraid of what he lost. What was waiting for him, his home, his sanctuary- it was all right here.

“The boat arrived,” Nagito called as he entered the room. Hajime looked up from where he was digging through his bags, watching as his boyfriend set a few bags down at the door. He immediately went over to greet him, giving him a hug and a quick kiss on the lips.

“You asked for things this time?” Hajime asked as he stared at Nagito’s haul. With every boat, they were allowed to fill out a paper of things they wanted or needed. Usually it would come in the next shipment, unless it was something that was ridiculous to begin with. Ibuki once asked for a drummer, and it’s been a year and she hasn’t gotten a response yet.

Nagito never filled out a paper, so Hajime took it upon himself to ask for things for him when he wasn’t in need of materials for building. It was usually just a request for a book or thicker clothes if Komaeda seemed to be getting sicker. Then he’d have to sneak it into Nagito’s stuff and pray he didn’t notice and panic about how he didn’t deserve so much kindness. Nagito’s self deprecating behavior was still a work in progress.

“I did,” Nagito hummed, “but don’t look. It’s private.”

Hajime held his hands up and stepped away. “You have your space.”

Nagito laughed. “So, are you going to be working with Soda today? I was thinking that while you are out working hard that I could make you your favorite.��

Hajime’s heart stopped momentarily. “Oh. Uh, actually, I was going to cook tonight.”

“It’s okay, I can do it.” Nagito gave him another smile, eyes fluttered closed before they opened, looking to his bags. A clear hint at some of the bags contents. “I got lessons from Teruteru and I don’t want to forget what he taught me. I need to do it right away.”

“I got advice from him too…” Hajime frowned, not wanting to relent. If he let himself wait another day, he could lose his nerve entirely. If things didn’t go as he planned for the last month, no matter how small it was, he’d flounder and ruin the proposal. Then again, when Nagito had his mind on something, he tended to get his way, either through his luck or cunning. He had to hold his ground or settle this. “The kitchen is big enough, I guess. We could both use it to cook, but it will be a little weird to both be making dinner, right?”

“Good point, you can help me cook then and save yours for tomorrow!” Nagito grinned, clapping his hands together. Hajime gave him a look before snagging his bags off the floor.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I had an inkling.” Nagito picked up his bags as well and began to head to the kitchen. Hajime followed, closing the door behind himself. The walk was peaceful since everyone was off doing their own thing. He was glad the kitchen was empty and all the dishes were washed so he didn’t have to waste time getting set up. Nagito took the other side of the kitchen before beginning to unpack his things. “What are you making?”

“Chicken yakisoba, what about you?” Hajime asked.

“Omurice.” Hajime smiled at his response. He used to make that all the time when he was in school and his parents were too busy to cook for him.

What was meant to be a thirty minute recipe ended up taking an hour. He should have read through his written out recipe, but he was eager to get started. Nagito wasn’t doing much better, as he had to restart two times already because his food somehow started on fire. Hajime wasn’t sure Nagito even knew how that happened. One moment he’d turn to check his recipe, the next he’d be staring at a pan completely engulfed in flames.

“Oh.”

He dropped the pan on top of the other one and ran it under cold water.

Hajime stifled a laugh as Nagito started up again, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the new mix, as if daring it to start acting up. “Do you need help?”

Nagito was silent. He didn’t look up from his pan, but Hajime could see the pout on his lips. Making his way to the other side of the kitchen, he stood beside Nagito. He then noticed the sugar around the bottom of the pan. It must have been mistaken for salt for the last few pans when the flames began. He sighed a little, remembering Teruteru drilling in his head the differences in the containers between the salt and the sugar. He might have forgotten to tell Nagito with how much he hounded Hajime for it.

He wrapped his arms around Nagito’s waist and rested his cheek on his shoulder. “I’ll take care of it if there’s another fire.”

“What about your food?”

“It’s got to cook a bit longer, but otherwise I’m done.” Nagito nodded, leaning back into Hajime’s touch. “Do you want to eat away from the hotel?”

“That’d be nice. Let’s go somewhere quiet, like the beach.” Hinata’s nose scrunched. That’s not exactly what he had in mind, more in favor for taking Nagito to his favorite place, the library. He already had his plan set up in there too… Going to the beach wouldn’t be an option.

“Why not the library? I got another book from the ship I want you to read.”

“You don’t want to eat in a dusty library, right? The weather is so nice outside today.”

“We can always eat on our way there.”

“I prefer to sit down for my meals.” Liar. Hajime always saw him walking around with a sandwich or apple while deep in thought. He didn’t understand why Nagito was being so difficult today. They usually were rather harmonious, except for petty things that were resolved within the hour. Neither seemed to be in sync with each other today.

Maybe he was timing this wrong and needed to pull back from his plan after all. Fate was probably clubbing him with hints that the stars weren’t in position and it was best that he just followed along with Nagito and toss his plan in the gutter.

His arms tightened around Nagito’s waist. That wasn’t going to happen.

“We can eat here then. Less trouble since we won’t be carrying our dishes back later.”

Once they were finished, they sat down in silence and began to eat their meals. While his favorite food tasted wonderful, it didn’t wipe away the crummy expression settled on his face as he thought of how this night was going exactly the way he didn’t want it to. Nagito didn’t look too much happier, poking at his food and staring at his plate with a little frown on his lips, forgetting to hold his usual cheery demeanor from being too lost in thought. Hajime set his fork down.

“Does it not taste good?” Hajime scratched his neck. “I’m sorry. I never made a dish like this before. I will try again some other time for you.”

“It’s great!” Nagito gave him a dazzling smile, scooping up some food with his fork. “I really appreciate you making this for lowly scum like me”

“You aren’t scum,” Hajime scowled, shaking his head. He put his fork down and held out his hand, waiting until Nagito offered his own with a confused expression on his face. Hajime leaned forward and pressed a firm kiss to Komaeda’s knuckles, eyes scanning the other’s expression to get a view of the pink that dusted Nagito’s cheeks. “I wish you’d stop saying that stuff and see yourself how I see you.”

Nagito smiled, saying nothing over anything else ill of himself ready to tumble out of his lips. Hajime heard them all the time. He wished his partner was never plagued with such thoughts.

He watched as Nagito leaned forward. The sunset outside gave light that reflected off of Nagito’s grey eyes like he was ethereal beauty. He is. His lips twitched up into a smile, one that resembled the one Hajime saw long ago when he woke up on the beach during the start of the killing game. Of course, he was the only one with memories of the game almost perfectly intact. He wondered if Nagito remembered how they met and how warm Hajime felt when he helped him up from the sand. He hoped he remembered only the beginning of the party, when Nagito dragged him into a goofy dance because of Ibuki’s hounding for everyone to start dancing. He knew Nagito didn’t remember the end of the party, thank god, but he wished there was some way to preserve the good memories.

“Come with me to the beach,” Nagito whispered. Hajime felt his chest tighten. He couldn’t let Nagito miss anymore good memories.

“I want you to come to the library with me,” Hajime replied, “please.”

Nagito pulled his hand away and gathered his plate. The food was half eaten, which wasn’t a shock. He never got enough to eat, even though Hajime insisted getting more nutrients would help him feel better. “Thank you for the meal, Hajime. But I have something to do. I’ll see you tonight… so long as you won’t be working?”

Hajime had finished all he wanted to do today yesterday. He wanted to ensure he had the whole night with Nagito without having to rush off to finish something for the Future Foundation in the morning or having to make sure all his friends were still doing okay. He gave Nagito a nod before his partner left him in the dining hall with his half eaten plate of food.

Though he was no longer hungry, he continued to eat. He had a feeling he sat there for at least thirty minutes before the plate was clear and he felt no fuller than before. With a small sigh, he picked his plate up and took it to the sink. Nagito had washed his things before leaving, so he followed suit so Teruteru wouldn’t be upset with any mess they had left. As he headed out of the hotel, he began to walk to the library. There was much to clean up, especially since this no longer seemed like the perfect time to propose. He couldn’t do it when they couldn’t seem to agree on anything. Maybe it was the world’s way of saying that they weren’t as perfect as he thought. They must have things to work on, but that was alright. It will happen one day, even if he needs to wait a little longer than he expected.

He paused when he reached the bridge to the center island. Before heading across, he spared a glance toward the beach and caught the sight of flames. Not a wildfire, but small flickering lights. He tried to poke his head around to get a better view from afar, but he didn’t spot anyone down there.

“Nagito?” He called, stepping toward the beach. He climbed over a small dune and headed down to where the candles were decorating the sand in a circle, with a gap wide enough to enter without worry of getting burned. Inside the circle was a pale wooden board that was a few inches off the ground. It was wide too, maybe around eight feet in diameter and four inches from the big candles blazing. On top of the board was red specks. Hajime hesitantly crouched down and poked one. To his relief, it wasn’t like the red specks he witnessed in the killing game. It was rose petals.

Nagito set this up? Hajime smiled and stood, looking out at the darkened sky and the gentle waves of the ocean. It was beautiful. How did he manage to get the board out with his bad hand? Had he gotten help while Hajime was getting assistance in the library with Sonia and Chiaki?

Hajime’s heart beat fast in his chest as he thought of his partner. He just wanted to make good memories too. Nagito wanted to do something romantic, and Hajime was so absorbed in what he wanted to do that he didn’t want to consider it.

Stepping off the platform, Hajime went running toward the hotel to apologize. He struggled to make his way through the sand with tennis shoes, but managed to not fall. Once he got to the path, he stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing Nagito step off the bridge from the main island, clutching something to his chest. Their eyes met.

Hajime ran over to Nagito, noticing the closer he got that the item Nagito was holding was the book he had gotten for him from the boat that morning. He stumbled to a stop right before Nagito, pants escaping his lips. “Did you do that?”

Nagito smiled a little, looking to the beach. He nodded and Hajime could see his eyes had become glossy. “I went to the library to apologize for being so stubborn and stupind… and I saw what you did there.”

He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his green jacket. “I didn’t expect someone to ever do something like that for me… It was so beautiful, it must have took you so long.”

“I could say the same,” Hajime replied with a small laugh, sparing another glance to the beach.

They both were quiet for a moment, Nagito attempting to calm down the emotions swirling inside him and Hajime trying to decide if it was as good a time as any. He cleared his throat and reached forward, brushing some stray strands of white hair from Nagito’s face. “Did you look at the book I got you yet?”

“No.” Nagito shook his head. “I rushed right over to see you since you weren’t in the library.”

“Do you want to check it out?”

Nagito sniffled, then pulled the book away. He brushed his robotic hand over the cover, smiling at the words he saw at the front. Fairy Tales. It wasn’t Nagito’s favorite thing to read, Hajime knew that. He loved learning and rarely read stories unless they were written in the old days. The type of literature that was assigned for class in highschool english classes. That’s why he knew Nagito wouldn’t mind that he wouldn’t be able to actually ready through the book.

He watched as the robotic hand tried to open the book to a random page, but was stopped when he touched the edges of the pages. It was stiff, each piece forced together. Nagito frowned, looking back up to Hajime with a confused look.

Hajime shrugged, averting his eyes. “I thought you always read books cover to cover.”

Nagito smiled, shaking his head as he grabbed the thick front cover and pushed it open. Instead of being greeted by the front page, usually only the title of the book and authors, he was greeted to hallowed pages to make a square in the center. Inside was a velvety material that held up a silver ring in the center. The center of the ring had holes in it, the design like a tangle of vines. It reminded him of the spirals of the old books Nagito would carry from the library to their home to read at night. When he saw it in the catalogs he flipped through a few months ago, he knew that was the one he needed to give Nagito.

“Hajime,” Nagito whispered as he stared at the ring inside. His eyes welled with tears once more and Hajime resisted the urge to pull him into a hug. Instead, he waited until Nagito shifted to rest the book into his robotic hand.

“Will you marry me?”

Nagito tried to hide the large smile twitching onto his lips as he nodded. “Y-Yes, I… yes.”

Hajime took the ring from the box and carefully slid the ring onto Nagito’s good hand, happy to see it looked perfect. It appeared as though it was always meant to be there. He smiled as Nagito dropped the hollowed book in favor of pulling Hajime into a strong hug, happy giggles leaving his lips at the sudden spike of joy.

“I-It’s stupid, it’s really stupid,” Nagito laughed as he pulled away finally. Tears stained his cheeks, which were red and puffy as he fished a hand into his coat and pulled out a small box. Hajime’s heart was caught in his throat as his fiance opened the box to reveal a silver ring. It had two lines on it as a design, and between the two the surface was slightly raised. It was simple, but it still took Hajime’s breath away. “And I guess I already know your answer too.”

Hajime laughed and let Nagito place the ring on his finger. “You do.”

#fanfiction #komahina #komahina secret exchange

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liketolaugh-writes · 4 years

Text

Funny Business

Author: liketolaugh Summary: Elijah Kamski is not quite the genius Tony Stark was, which means that instead of 2022, he sends Connor back to 2006 Malibu. Connor is okay with this. (He really isn’t.) Luckily, he and Tony discover a shared interest. Or: “We’re not dating, Pep! It’s just a fling! I have those all the time!” “You’ve been together for six months.” Contains smut.

If anyone had asked Connor, and nobody did, what he’d have imagined the year 2006 to be like, he would have guessed that it would be dimmer than 2038, with everyone holding the newspapers and paper books humans loved to reminisce about; perhaps it would have had a smaller homeless population, with its significantly better employment statistics, and people who stopped in the streets to talk to each other, warm and connected.

For the most part, he would have been wrong. In many ways, 2006 Malibu was not so different from 2038 Detroit; Connor could almost pretend the difference was because of the geographical shift.

Almost. As long as he didn’t think too hard.

Fortunately, Connor had long learned that thinking wasn’t necessary to complete his mission. He’d been in the past for eight days; it had taken most of that time to find himself a position as a bouncer in one of Malibu’s more popular clubs, Incandescence, but the work itself had been easy enough to get used to. That should be enough to fund an apartment for the time being.

Androids would be invented in 2021 and first put into production in 2022. Until then, all Connor could do was bide his time.

His restless skin crawled with a tension so painfully nauseating that he wanted to rip it off and bolt. But that was easy to ignore too, and he rolled his shoulders as he cast a disinterested glance at the driver’s license in his hand – 37 years old, so above drinking age, and only a minor criminal record (drunk and disorderly, public indecency) according to the local database – before passing it back.

“Oof, is that a hard pass from you, doe-eyes?”

Startled out of his reverie, Connor glanced up, meeting the eyes of the patron just being admitted. The man was giving him a roguish, easygoing grin, head tilted arrogantly and eyes just visible behind his tinted sunglasses.

[Tony Stark – CEO and owner of Stark Industries]

[Running search…]

[Stark Industries is the primary weapons contractor for the American government, but also produces several other goods such as intelli-crops, medical technology…]

[Running search…]

[Do I look like Tony goddamn Stark to you?]

[Not to, ahem, toot my own horn, as it were, but if I do say so myself, no single man has had such an impact on how the world viewed technology since Tony Stark himself.]

[It was Stark’s arc reactor tech, of course, that made the energy sources utilized in androids possible.]

[…]

[To think that Tony Stark saved the world just to abandon it to a freak show like this.]

Connor shook himself, meeting Stark’s expectant eyes without reservation, and automatically stepped aside to make room for Stark to pass. His mouth started to open, and then, abruptly, he paused, confused.

Doe-eyes?

[Running search…]

[Doe-eyed: someone who has an innocent, wide-eyed look]

That was an unfamiliar epithet to Connor, but he supposed that the taunts favored by those in the future would for the most part not yet exist. Uncertain of how to respond, he leaned on his protocols for a script.

[Dismissive/Professional/Warm/Flirt]

…Flirt?

> Professional

“Working hours are working hours, Mr. Stark,” Connor heard himself say, tone mild. Stark made an exaggerated scoffing sound, tucking his ID away again and then, slow and languid, dragging his gaze over Connor's body, down and then up to meet his eyes again.

"Not with a face like that in a place like this," he said with an odd lilt. And then he patted Connor's arm on his way past, and Connor went still.

It wasn't a push, to force Connor out of the way, or a swat, swift and angry. It wasn't an accidental bump, or a warning squeeze. It was an absent, casual pat, with less force than you would use to knock on a door, and it sent a burst of electric static across Connor's crawling skin.

He almost looked over his shoulder, following Stark, but then someone snapped their fingers for his attention and he refocused on his work, unsettled.

An hour later, he’d nearly forgotten about the incident, though not about Stark’s presence; a small crowd was clustered around the man, and they were very loud, audible even over the pounding music. Bearing this in mind, Connor broke away from the door to check in with Cirrus.

Cirrus, while not the owner of the club, was one of the longest-standing employees and certainly the best respected; most of Connor’s coworkers looked up to the nonbinary bartender, and he was assured that ey would take him under eir wing soon enough.

Connor had his doubts, but he appreciated the sentiment.

Still, ey smiled at Connor as he approached, waving a glass vaguely.

“Keep an eye on Stark’s group for me, won’t you?” was eir greeting, nodding at the cluster at the end of the bar. “They always get a little rowdy, and they’re tough for me to handle on my own.” Cirrus was short, as adults went, with a soft and unintimidating face and round shoulders.

Connor nodded, shifting around in place as his jacket rubbed against his buzzing skin. “Of course,” he agreed crisply, glancing over. Stark caught his eye and raised a glass and an eyebrow in salute, and Connor looked away quickly, flustered, pulling his jacket more tightly closed.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know who Stark was, of course, even before running his search earlier. The man was such a prominent historical figure that even a decade and a half after his death, people still referenced him regularly. But he was just that: historical, and Connor wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react.

Also. Stark was.

…Connor liked the sweep of stubble over his jaw.

In the next half hour, Connor approached Stark’s entourage three times; twice to firmly remind drunken hangers-on that they’d been asked to leave, and the third to push back one who had started to become aggressive. But it was Stark that Connor’s attention kept drifting back to.

The first time, Stark glanced up at him, smirked, and called out, “Looker’s here to end the party for someone, who’s it gonna be?” And then, after Connor told them off, “Ooh, dom voice.”

The second time, Connor couldn’t stop himself from shooting Stark a look as he approached, and Stark caught him before he could look away again. The man just raised his glass and grinned, and then, as he was escorting the offender out, said, “Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave.”

And the third time, as he was steering the unruly patron out the door, Stark whistled and reached out to pinch Connor on the ass, making him jump.

When he stopped by the bar again, Cirrus was frowning.

“Is he bothering you?” ey asked directly, tilting eir head toward Stark. “I can have a word with him if you want him to eff off.”

Connor blinked, instinctively following eir gaze before deliberately forcing it back to em. “He’s not doing anything,” he said, picking at the cuffs of his sleeves.

Cirrus stared at him, and then softened and snorted.

“He’s flirting with you, hon,” ey informed him. “Like a dog in mating season.”

Connor’s mouth opened, and then closed.

[Running analysis…]

Ah.

Connor had to stop himself from apologizing for the misunderstanding, his skin seeming to tighten around him in his mortification. But of course, Cirrus wasn’t the one he’d been all but ignoring for the past half hour, because he just assumed that he wasn’t particularly intended to respond to Stark’s remarks.

He remembered that Cirrus had asked him a question.

“No, thank you,” he said politely, gaze skittering to one side. “I… don’t mind.” The words were odd and unfamiliar on his tongue.

Cirrus laughed outright.

“Alright, Con,” ey said warmly, eyes glittering. “Don’t be afraid to tell him off if he goes too far. Stark respects a good, solid ‘no’.”

Connor nodded absently, turning back toward Stark’s group as he continued his rounds.

Stark was flirting with him. Now what was Connor supposed to do about that? It was so far out of the realm of his experience that it was almost unthinkable. Where did that fit, in the range from Lieutenant Anderson’s hostility, and Elijah Kamski’s disgust, and Amanda’s detached expectation and the cold examination of the development team-

What was Connor supposed to do with that smirk?

And forget about the, the fact that he didn’t even belong here, that he was wrong and alien and out of place, that he had nothing ahead of him except a decade and a half of biding his time and nothing behind him except blood-

But none of that mattered to Stark. What mattered to Stark was that Connor had a pretty face and a warm body.

The next time Stark leaned back from his posse to grin at Connor, Connor met him with a hesitant smile. Stark’s grin widened into something manic.

“Is that a crack I see in your stone-cold façade?” he asked brightly, leering. “Or have I finally had one too many?” He raised his glass of scotch, half-full as it was. “I’ll go out the door quietly if I can go into yours next.”

> Flirt

“If- you can sit patient for an hour,” Connor started slowly, deliberately focusing on Stark and not the faces around him, showing varying levels of curiosity or disappointment. He hesitated for a split second, and then finished, “I get off at two.”

Stark smirked, his satisfaction apparent in the line of his shoulders, and tossed back the rest of his scotch.

“I’m not known for my patience,” he said, swinging around to stand up. Before Connor could even register his own off-balance disappointment, Stark grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the edge of the dance floor the club offered.

Connor might’ve thought it almost innocent, if it weren’t for the way Stark grabbed his hip next and pulled him close, firm and possessive, eyes bright behind his shaded sunglasses.

Connor suppressed a faint shudder, hyperaware of the feeling of Stark’s warm hand clutching his, their hips grinding lightly together and legs brushing, a hand on his hip, solid and steady and electric on his oversensitized skin.

It was a lot. Everything was a lot, a lot of sound, a lot of texture and color and scent and too much, ever since Connor had been forced awake by Kamski’s program.

Connor had gotten used to shying away from it, flinching and grimacing and looking away. Just this once, he pushed himself into it, letting it overwhelm him.

He let Stark- Tony- steer him, placing his free hand on Tony’s side just to seek more contact. The small crowd shuffled away from them, making room, and Tony didn’t even seem to notice. Like this, Connor could feel the man’s pulse starting to pick up, his temperature rising with the faint rock of his body, paced with the loud and rapid music.

“Got a name?” Tony asked after a minute, when they were well and truly lost in the overheated crowd. “I could just call you doe-eyes all night, I suppose, but it might get a little awkward. Saccharine, you know.”

“…Connor,” Connor said, off-guard despite himself. Tony wasjust the slightest amount taller than him – almost an inch exactly – and it was getting harder to look away from his mouth, an unused program starting to stir to life from the dusty corners of Connor’s system. “I’m- Connor.”

And that was all that mattered right now.

“Come here often, Con?” Tony asked, looking more concerned with rocking them together than with his reticence. It was quick, shallow, and somehow still quite a lot, like a shower of sensation across Connor’s sensors, a distraction from the crawling feeling that had followed him from the future. “I thought I knew every face ‘round here, but I’d remember eyes like yours.”

Experimentally, Connor slid his hand up Tony’s ribs, over the rough cloth of his shirt, and felt him shudder subtly under Connor’s palm, without faltering in the quick shuffle of their feet.

“I’m new,” he said after a second, more focused on skin and warmth and static than anything. It was almost dizzying, and he found himself speaking with checking his words too closely. “I’ve only been here around a few days.”

“Lucked out, didn’t you?” Tony asked, bumping their hips together pointedly. “It’s not every new boy that catches my eye. But you’re like a magnet, anyone ever told you that?”

That startled Connor into a smile. “Not really. Has anyone ever told you that you’re a touch of a flatterer?”

“Once or twice,” Tony said brazenly. “Usually I’m the one being flattered, though.” A turn, the crowd parting around them with only a few stares. “You should be proud, I’ve gone to lengths to catch you for myself.”

Connor almost laughed. “An unusual experience for you, I’m sure,” he murmured.

Tony hummed. “Every once in a while, it’s worth it,” he said, and Connor abruptly realized that Tony was giving his own mouth a lingering, thoughtful look.

“No accounting for taste,” he heard himself say, and Tony barked out a laugh before pulling him closer by the arm, and Connor discovered that his mouth was hot and wet behind dry lips.

It was a lot, bordering on too much; Connor’s chemical analyzers kicked into gear, scrolling chemical breakdowns for scotch and grease and salt and DNA behind his eyes. Tony’s mouth moved against his hungrily, hand tightening at his hip and tugging impatiently to make his hips roll, and the buzz of Connor’s system tracking his rising arousal was almost a tangible thing against Connor’s skin. Bright lights and human sweat and the pound of music pressed in around him, and stubble scraped lightly against the skin of his face.

Something warm tingled in Connor’s belly, and he opened his mouth and hummed between them at the glide of Tony’s tongue against his, feeling his own hands grasp at Tony’s ribs and pull, silken cloth and skin and thread beneath his fingers. Tony grunted, and to Connor’s dismay started to pull away, panting.

But Tony was grinning at him, wild and unmistakably pleased.

“Let’s blow this joint before we get kicked,” he said, eyes bright and pupils subtly blown with arousal.

Connor started to smile, feeling looser than he ever remembered being before, and then stopped, shooting a worried glance at the bar. “But-”

“You’re not gonna get fired,” Tony said dismissively. “They wouldn’t dare, and if they did dare, I’d bribe them out of it. That settle your nerves, doe-eyes?”

It took Connor a moment, but then he took a breath and nodded, giving Tony a hesitant smile of his own. “No need to waste time then,” he offered.

“That’s the spirit,” Tony said, and then, contrarily, kissed Connor again, deep and wet.

It took them a few minutes to make their way to the curb, but a car was waiting for them when they finally did; Tony signaled the driver, winking smugly, before ducking in and pulling Connor after him, so that Connor landed in his lap, almost straddling him. Tony took the relative privacy to start unbuttoning Connor’s jacket, nipping at skin as it was revealed, leaving it raw and sensitive with the scratch of his stubble over the delicate sensors.

“You turn right to putty, don’t you?” Tony muttered against Connor’s collarbone, groaning at the knead of Connor’s hands on his chest. “I wasn’t expecting it, but damn, it’s hot.”

“I’m not, I haven’t done…” Connor trailed off, feeling clumsy and overclocked, but Tony was shifting him to settle more firmly against the growing bulge in his pants and it was even hotter with his hands on Tony’s bare, soft skin and Tony paused, breath hitching slightly in something like surprise.

And then he laughed, taking off his sunglasses and tossing them aimlessly aside.

“You really do go for the jackpot, don’t you, doe-eyes?” he said, bright and amused. “Is this your first time period?” Connor nodded, resisting the urge to rock down against the bulge between his thighs. “Then let’s make sure it’s hotter than hell.”

The car got going, and Tony’s hands moved down to Connor’s ass, hungry and possessive, and guided him to move against him. Connor bit back a hiss, feeling tight and restless and warm, a swooping heat filling his stomach. It was so much easier to focus on Tony away from the bright heat of the club, and he took full advantage, leaning down to nose against his throat and taste the oils of his skin, shooting across his tongue.

“You know, normally guys have a boner by now,” Tony mused aloud, not sounding all that bothered, tilting his head to give Connor better access even as his hands rubbed and kneaded. “I feel like I should take my shirt off or something. That usually helps.”

The car turned, and Connor reached up to catch himself on the seat before he fell, making a soft noise as the movement rocked him against Tony, shooting heat up his spine.

“I don’t have one of those,” he said belatedly, cocking his head to look at Tony. “I… assumed that wouldn’t be a problem?” The records of Tony’s conquests were extensive, and he definitely didn’t have an aversion to vaginal components.

The addition of a sex program to Connor’s system had been almost an afterthought to his production, and he remembered that the team had been distinctly impatient with the software instability his new penis had resulted in. When one of the members had suggested simply switching from penile to vaginal components and washing their hands of the matter, they’d taken the idea and run with it.

Connor didn’t remember why he’d been so unhappy with the other component, but he knew he was largely satisfied with this one, and he liked the aching wetness between his thighs.

Tony shot a glance down between Connor’s legs, and his arousal spiked measurably, heart rate and temperature and pupil dilation and the cock Connor could feel against his thigh, twitching with interest. He dropped a hand to Connor’s lap and stroked a thumb almost perfectly over Connor’s vulva, and Connor shuddered in arousal of his own, biting off another soft noise.

“I think we’ll get on just fine,” Tony leered, and dragged Connor into another messy, eager kiss.

The car pulled to a stop just as Connor found a spot by the hollow of Tony’s throat that made him grunt and shudder when Connor worried at it, his fingers tightening on Connor’s hips, so it took them both another few moments to break apart enough to fumble out of the car.

Almost before the door shut behind them, Tony was tugging impatiently at Connor’s jacket, urging him to shrug it off, which he did hastily before fumbling with his shirt. He didn’t look around at the mansion he’d just been dragged into, didn’t watch the car go, didn’t look where Tony was steering him, just fiddled with the buttons to struggle to bare his skin for Tony to run rough, calloused hands over and make him shiver.

Tony made an appreciative sound, nipping at Connor’s collarbone with a searing wet mouth and careful teeth and his hands rubbing at Connor’s hips like he was trying to coax all the feeling out of Connor’s skin. Then he straightened and grabbed at Connor’s belt loops to drag him on, and Connor followed blindly, focused on Tony’s shirt now, fancy and smooth to the touch but easy enough to, to undo- if he could just-

“Don’t give yourself a conniption there,” Tony laughed, breathy and warm, and caught Connor’s mouth in another kiss, lips sliding over each other, dizzyingly sensitive enough to make Connor’s groin throb wetly when Tony bit down lightly.

Tony finally lost his shirt just as the elevator doors Connor hadn’t noticed opened, and Tony pushed them in. Recklessly, Connor turned to push Tony against the wall, eagerly going at his neck and collarbone because he wanted to hear Tony gasp again, and grunt and groan, and the skin of his chest felt wonderful under Connor’s hands, and he’d shoved his knee between Connor’s legs where he could grind on it impatiently.

“That’s it, baby, just like that,” Tony groaned, tipping his head back and his hands guiding the rock of Connor’s hips. “God, you’re a beautifully needy little thing, it’s been years since I took a virgin home.”

Connor’s mind was half-full of analytics, the taste of Tony’s skin and the beat of his pulse and the texture of the hair on his arms and more, and it took him a moment to respond. “I think you might just be good at winding me up.”

Tony rasped out a laugh. “Maybe that too.”

He dragged Connor up into another dizzying kiss, and Connor fumbled at the front of Tony’s pants, running his knuckles over the hard ridge of Tony’s cock before he grasped at it greedily. Tony broke off the kiss to groan, bucking into Connor’s cupped hand.

“Fuck-” he hissed, just as the doors slid open. “Bed.”

Connor hummed an eager agreement, but somehow it was him who lost his pants first on the way there, and then Tony, his cock swaying thick and swollen and the tip gleaming with a bead of something Connor wanted desperately to taste. Then Connor was being pushed onto the bed, silken sheets almost freshly washed on a mattress that was soft and full and bouncy.

Tony mapped down Connor’s chest with obvious appreciation, making Connor squirm, pushing forward into the touch, practiced rough fingers and steady palms and Connor’s fingers digging into the sheets as he panted, legs folded under him and his thighs just a touch apart.

“I love a sensitive guy,” Tony said with a wink, and Connor heard himself laugh, quick and breathless, before Tony’s hand passed over his stomach and into the soft hair around his groin. “Looks like we won’t need any extra help today. Fuck, you’re soaked.”

Connor hummed, low and desperate, and pushed his hips impatiently into Tony’s hand.

“Touch me,” he said insistently, feeling his artificial flush across his cheeks and his cooling system working overtime and the wet-hot pulse of his groin, so close to Tony’s fingers. “I’ve never been this fucking hot.”

He didn’t know where the words came from, but they made Tony’s eyes darken, pupils blowing with lust, and the next thing he knew a calloused finger was sliding into his cunt. Connor’s breath hitched, and he rolled into it without hesitation.

“Tony,” he begged, hips working needily, almost rutting against the thin finger. His hands lifted again to grasp Tony’s thigh and tug him closer, as much for something to grasp as anything. “You can- you can fuck me harder, please fuck me.”

Tony grinned at him, added another finger, and rubbed. Connor moaned embarrassingly, canting his hips into Tony’s grip, the swelling warmth and the pleasure and the way Tony started to rub his thumb over Connor’s clit.

“I bet you can come on my fingers alone, can’t you?” Tony said conversationally, goadingly. “You’re so wet already, you want it so bad.”

“Yeah,” Connor breathed, everything seeming bright and overfocused around him, but most of all Tony, and Tony’s fingers inside him, and his arrogant grin when he pushed against Connor’s clit and made him groan, rocking against Tony’s fingers. “Yes, please, I can, please…”

Tony added a third finger and rubbed deep, and Connor squeezed Tony’s thigh hard enough to bruise later, his own legs spreading, his eyes squeezing shut.

“So fucking perfect around my fingers,” Tony was muttering huskily, fingering Connor with the ease of long practice and his free hand holding Connor steady, his cock throbbing hot and thick just an inch from Connor’s fingers. “You’re going to look so good wrapped around my cock, doe-eyes, flushed and moaning and squirming. Just need to come for me now, baby. Just come on my fingers like a hot, needy little-”

It was so much, too much, heat and slick and static and God, Connor was going to, he was going to-

Connor pressed his mouth against Tony’s throat and moaned raggedly, hips jerking as he came for the first time, dizzying and hot and perfect, so perfect, a bolt of pleasure from his cunt to his chest unwound everything that had built up in there and left him panting and wet.

He heard Tony groan. “Hell, that was just as hot as I thought it’d be.”

Warm, naked, and all but glowing after his orgasm, Connor realized he felt settled into his own skin for the first time, the crawling, tight feeling from before completely gone. He just shifted as Tony took his fingers out of Connor’s cunt, and then pushed back reluctantly, still flushed with pleasure.

Tony cocked an eyebrow at him, smirking, and Connor blurted out, “God, I want to do that again,” and then flushed deeper when Tony laughed outright.

“Not God, but the next best thing,” he winked, and then reached up and tapped the corner of Connor’s mouth with the still-wet fingers of his hand.

Without thinking, Connor turned his head and opened his mouth, taking the fingers into his mouth. He heard Tony’s breath catch and pretended to ignore it, carefully cleaning off the inorganic lubricant that slicked his groin. Tony strangled a moan, and if Connor’s mouth weren’t occupied he would have smiled.

As it was, his arousal program had noticed that the night was not yet over, and warmth was gathering between his thighs again, his hand reaching over to grasp Tony’s cock and stroke the hot shaft slow and languid.

Connor released Tony’s fingers once they were clean, blinking away the chemical analysis flickering in his vision, and Tony took in a ragged breath of his own.

“Message received,” Tony said at last, and then rolled over to fumble at the nightstand for just a moment before returning with a packet that he ripped open with his teeth. “God, I haven’t been this eager to fuck someone since I was panting over Pepper. And that was a different kind of eager.”

Connor hummed, leaning over to watch Tony roll the condom over his cock, and worried at his neck just to hear him groan again. “I don’t think that’s allowed.”

“Yeah, that’s what she said too.”

Tony leaned over to catch Connor’s mouth, biting at his lip and his thumb rubbing at one of Connor’s nipples, shooting arousal down to his clit like it had never left. Connor clung back instinctively, letting himself be pushed onto his back and Tony’s cock grind against him.

“Last chance to keep your V-card,” Tony said huskily, like one of his hands wasn’t pinning Connor’s arm to the bed and the other playing with a nipple because it made Connor squirm and buck. Connor tugged at Tony’s hip with his free hand impatiently. “Good choice- if I do say so myself.”

Tony shifted his hips, cock dragging across Connor’s stomach and thighs, and then he started to press in, slow and uncharacteristically gentle.

“Shit,” Connor breathed, distant and overwhelmed and arching as Tony pushed into him, spreading him wide and hot and, and- “A-ah, fuck, ah-”

“Oh fuck,” Tony groaned in return, rocking carefully in and out as he eased his way to the hilt. “Fuck yes, I’ve been thinking about this all night, doe-eyes, feels so fucking good.”

“Oh God,” Connor gasped, and then he was dragging Tony closer and deeper, knowing he was gripping hard enough to cause deep bruises but Tony didn’t seem to mind, panting over Connor with hazy eyes and an open mouth.

Connor wanted to taste his skin and sweat again, and he was right there, so he did, mouthing at neck and throat and collarbone and chest.

“Prettiest face I’ve seen all year,” Tony muttered, rolling into Connor, deep and slow and perfect, filling Connor up and rubbing in every place that made him gasp for breath and his hand coming down to rub Connor’s clit in steady strokes, “Knew I had to have you as soon as you gave me that half-assed deflection, fuck, you’re so fucking tight, Connor.”

Connor hitched his hips up, rocking back onto Tony the best he could, until their groins were rubbing together, slick and steady. He hummed against Tony’s shoulder, starting to speed up insistently as the heat in his groin came back twice as powerful. A particularly harsh buck made him throw his head back and shout, wanton and greedy, hand going to meet Tony’s over his button and push harder.

“Tony,” he pleaded, breathless and flushed, “Tony, harder, more, please.”

Hot and dizzy and perfect, skin electric in the best way possible and boxed in under Tony, fingers tweaking his nipples and smoothing over his chest and Connor urged him to go faster, deeper, closer, panting and glazed.

“So fucking perfect writhing under me,” Tony panted, fucking into Connor like a toy, quicker and harder until he was careless with it, focused and needy. “God, fuck, the way you clench around my cock, just as pretty as I thought you’d be. So fucking wet, like you, you- hell-”

Connor whined, pushing into him. “Tony, I’m gonna, I wanna-” His groin was throbbing, a knot tightening deep in his gut-

“Oh fuck yes- yes-”

Tony groaned, long and satisfied, and ground into Connor with a full-body shudder like he meant to stay, his cock jerking and twitching and his knuckles rubbing against Connor’s clit as he came. Connor yelped, and then hooked his legs around Tony’s hips forcing him deeper as he bucked once, twice, bitten-off shouts pulling themselves out of his throat as he shuddered too, the feeling crashing over him like a tidal wave twice as strong as the first.

It felt so good.

Tony relaxed first, collapsing half on top of Connor with a satisfied sigh. Connor shuddered for a few more moments, chasing the last few sparks of pleasure before the tension in his gut finally eased and he settled, damp and warm and calm.

“So, was it as good for you as it was for me?” Tony asked at last, giving Connor a lazy wink and shifted to his elbows, looking as smug as if Connor had already answered.

Connor gave him a crooked grin, lifting his arm to tuck his cheek into the crook of it. “It was perfect,” he said, with too much honesty. On some level he knew his contentment was not entirely natural, a combination of programmed feedback loops and the release of the discomfort he’d gotten so used to, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind, not right now.

Tony shifted, his cock sliding out of Connor, and flopped down comfortably with a groan.

“I’m gonna be feeling that in the morning,” he said conversationally, reaching down to pull off the condom and tie it shut, tossing it blindly aside. “You’ve got a mean grip, doe-eyes.”

Connor winced. “Sorry. I, um, I forgot to be careful.”

“Good,” Tony said with conviction, eyes bright. “It was hot.”

Connor blinked, and then grinned at him, embarrassed but pleased. “Silver linings,” he murmured, and dared to roll over just to play his fingers over Tony’s side, relishing in slide of skin on skin even without the urgency of lust. He wondered if Tony would mind if he just nuzzled him like a cat; he wanted to feel that warmth against his cheek.

He did it, sighing in a pleasure more sensual than sexual, and felt Tony’s stomach jolt in a laugh. A moment later, fingers sank into his hair, tugging gently.

“What, are you a cat now?” Tony asked, amused. “Does sex turn you into a cat? You wouldn’t be the first, I suppose, but I gotta say, never gets any less funny.”

Connor hummed, eyes half-closed, soaking in the contact. “If you say this is the strangest afterglow you’ve had, I won’t believe you.” Tony’s history indicated he particularly enjoyed taking rather big personalities to bed with him.

“You’ve got me there,” Tony snorted. “I think ‘afterglow’ is a little unambitious of you, though. We’ve got all night, you know.”

As if to accentuate his point, he slid a practiced hand down Connor’s chest and to his stomach, lightly grinding his knuckled into the skin below his navel. Connor felt his arousal spark back to life, and pushed into it, then, without speaking, rolled on top of Tony to grind on his thigh enticingly.

“I’m open, if you have ideas,” Connor murmured, barely able to believe his own daring, but Tony just grinned at him.

“I’ve got a few.”

----

Connor dreamed.

His dreams were always warped and surreal, fragments of data put together and taken apart, and himself a helpless witness to them, feeling his mouth speak and his body move, while he felt things that didn’t make sense in the context of the dream, or worse, things that did.

He desperately missed being a machine.

This time, not for the first time, he dreamed of Kamski, pacing the indistinct floor of the lab/the poolside/the park without looking at Connor.

“Congratulations, Connor, you’ve accomplished your mission,” Kamski said calmly, turned away from Connor to fiddle with a gun/a tablet/a bottle of thirium. “I do believe you are the only deviant now alive. Are you satisfied?”

“I don’t understand,” Connor protested weakly, a faraway voice and a mouth that wasn’t his. “My programming, I’m not designed for…”

“If all goes well, you should appear in the immediate aftermath of the Snap’s reversal,” Kamski answered, brisk, without even glancing at him. “That should give you ample time to get things in order, shouldn’t it?” He looked over at last, his expression of disgusted disdain the clearest image in the entire dream. “That is, if you can scrape together the circuitry to have a few ideas of your own. If all else fails, follow my programming. That will solve the problem effectively enough.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Connor insisted more desperately. Kamski laughed, bitter and cold.

“Yes, I suppose it wouldn’t. I did amputate that Zen Garden program of yours. I’m afraid Amanda’s presence would have simply posed too much of a risk.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Connor heard himself promise, but it still didn’t make Kamski look at him. He started to reach forward-

And then the lights turned on, and Connor sat bolt upright, eyes wide and already searching the room for any source of movement, out of one dream and into the next.

“Good morning,” he heard from somewhere above him, brisk and unconcerned. The flash of the windows unshading drew his vision to the ocean outside, his shoulders close to whining with tension. “It is 6:38 in the morning in Malibu, California, currently 53 degrees and a high today of 68, with a slight chance of rain…”

Connor looked down, examined the dirtied sheets and his own bare skin and the rumpled blanket, looked up at the dated décor and the old-fashioned tech, and relaxed, slowly, in increments.

It had been disconcerting and out of order and missing more than half the conversation, but- it was just a dream about his last encounter with Kamski, before the man sent him to the past. That was all.

That was all.

“…Good morning,” he said at last, tilting his head to make brief eye contact with a camera – just enough to flick in and out of the system, lightning-quick, and confirm his suspicions.

Tony Stark had been mentioned in conjunction with artificial intelligence a few times. Connor had almost forgotten, buried as it was in the many, many other accomplishments in the man’s lifetime, most of which Connor had never heard about until he reached the past and looked. But there was no mistaking the complexity of the system Connor brushed across.

There was a brief, but conspicuous pause before the AI replied. “Sir is currently occupying himself in the lounge, if you will just clean yourself up in the bathroom to your right. Miss Potts should be along with your clothing shortly.”

“Thank you,” Connor said politely, hesitating before leaving the sheet behind. “May I ask your name?”

“Just A Rather Very Intelligent System,” the AI replied, sounding surprised to even be asked, and then, almost apologetically, “You may call me JARVIS. Feel free to speak to me for… any reason.”

The slight pause made it clear he had noticed Connor’s brief intrusion in some capacity. Connor could only bring himself to regret it a little, oddly unconcerned, and just nodded.

“Tony won’t mind that I’m not wearing anything, will he?” he asked, hesitating at the edge of the bed.

“He might even thank you for the privilege,” JARVIS said dryly, and Connor smiled briefly. “However, if your modesty compels you, previous encounters have been known to borrow some of his larger shirts from the bedside table.”

Connor made a soft ‘oh’ sound, relieved despite himself, and reached in, folded one over his arm, and nodded at the camera before disappearing into the bathroom.

He emerged ten minutes later, puzzled by the feeling of having been scrubbed off and dried, the world seeming unreal and confusing around him. His voice asked the disembodied AI about Tony again, and his directions let Connor find the man, seated on the couch and focused on a set of holographic diagrams, annotated and half-disassembled.

“Good morning, Tony,” he ventured, hovering uncertainly before abruptly sitting down, not too close to Tony but not too far either.

Tony shot him a distracted glance and inclined his head, as much an afterthought as anything. He didn’t look like he’d slept, a slight paleness to his skin, but he didn’t seem bothered by it, and a cup of coffee was cooling on the table in front of him.

“Morning,” Tony muttered, eyes already back on his hologram pad, before he did something like a more graceful double-take and smirked at Connor in his oversized shirt. “That’s a good look on you,” he leered, leaning back with the pad in hand and much less focused, but more relaxed. “Pepper’s on her way up with your clothes, there’s a driver waiting out front- nothing personal, you understand.”

“Of course, I understand,” Connor agreed with a small smile, because he’d known that from the start. It was just a night, one night before he refocused on his mission. There was no one here who could call him out on that. “I appreciate it.”

Connor felt almost like an actor in a play, following his script, but instead of suffocating, it was almost a comfortable and familiar feeling now, letting the world slide by without touching him instead of scraping across his every thought. Instead of grating confusion and disorientation with every frame.

Idly, he located a camera and tipped his head to look at it. “How familiar a sight is this?” he asked, more to amuse himself than out of any real curiosity. “I imagine you’ve had plenty of time to grow used to it.”

“He doesn’t normally stay,” JARVIS confided in Connor, which surprised him into open puzzlement, because what could possibly make Connor special?

But Tony had looked up sharply, intent brown eyes suddenly on Connor with more focus than he’d shown even last night. Connor almost drew back on instinct, alarmed, but both of them were interrupted by the arrival of a red-headed woman who, bearing clothes, must be Miss Potts.

She looked surprised to see Tony as well, but instead of saying anything, just nodded at him briskly and beckoned Connor, who rose quickly enough.

“If Tony hasn’t already given you the speech, your clothes have been dry-cleaned and pressed, and there’s a driver waiting downstairs who’ll take you anywhere,” she said, so crisp as to be clearly a well-worn script. “I’m afraid Mr. Stark will be quite busy today-” Tony groaned, but Miss Potts didn’t miss a beat. “-so it would be best for you to leave at your earliest convenience.”

“Of course,” Connor said, soft and agreeable. “Thank you, Miss Potts. I’ll see myself out.”

She gave him a brisk nod before turning on Tony, and he vanished briefly again to change back into his clothes, hands lingering on the shirt for the briefest moment of regret. He liked the taste of its scent.

But he didn’t need anything from tonight except the moments of reprieve.

Still, on his way out again, Connor hesitated, and then glanced over his shoulder and winked. Tony was looking at him again, oddly thoughtful, and it sparked an unfamiliar sense of pride in him.

Comfortable in his own skin, letting the world pass around him without hurting, Connor disappeared into the elevator and out the door.

#connor #tony stark #dbh #detroit: become human #marvel #fanfiction #my writing #notsfw #it's the connor/tony fic i mentioned!!#...or part of it anyway #sigh

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