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angelicthor · 5 years

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billion dollar man - part 3

pairing: tony stark x reader

summary: after mounting bills and debt cause you to look at alternative means of making money, you’re thrown into a whole different kind of life when one of the most famous billionaires on the block offers to be your sugar daddy, of course in exchange for a different from of payment. non-superhero au.

warnings/genre: +18 only, sugarbaby/daddy relationship

masterlist | billion dollar man masterlist

You woke the next morning still in a state of disbelief, laying in bed as the events of the previous night replayed in your mind. Your thoughts of Tony were abruptly halted by the knock on your door and you remembered that you were having a delivery today with your outfit choices for the evening. Padding over to the door you were shocked to see not a delivery man but Wanda, your neighbour and best friend standing in front of you with her hand on her hip and her eyebrow arched at you, clearly annoyed about something.

“What the hell were you thinking?” She questioned instantly, only leaving you more confused as to what the hell she was talking about. Before you could open your mouth to respond she shoved her phone into your hands, storming past you and into your apartment.

Looking down at the phone, you saw that the app loaded was Babble Babe, more specifically the article from last night; the picture of you and Tony centred on the screen. How Wanda had figured out it was you from your back alone was beyond you but you knew she wouldn’t be happy – Wanda was there for everything after your messy split from your ex, consoling you when you seemed inconsolable to everyone else and you knew she was protective of you, you hadn’t factored in her response to you ‘dating’ Tony, the world’s most notorious womanizer, and with the pointed look she was giving you, you started to wish you had.

You knew better than to lie to Wanda, if she knew it was you then you just had to tell her the truth, the woman was like a mind reader, absolutely nothing got past her. It was honestly freaky sometimes how she could read people, no secret was safe around Wanda Maximoff. With a dejected sigh, you turned to her: “How the hell could you tell it was me?”

“Oh please, I’d recognise that ass anywhere! Plus, that’s the dress you wore for my birthday two months ago and I know for a fact you only wear it on special occasions, so I ask again: What the hell are you doing?”

You quirked a brow at your friend, eyes widening before you shook your head, deciding to ignore the fact that she could apparently pick your ass out of every other in New York and jump right to placating her growing annoyance. “Ok will you please calm down; it was just a date Wan.”

“A date? With Tony Stark?” She questioned incredulously, arms crossed over her chest in a defensive manner. You knew you were going to have to tell her the truth or she’d march down to Tony’s apartment herself to get the answers she wanted. The woman was persistent, you’d give her that.

“Just, promise me you won’t freak out ok? Just listen to everything I have to say before you start telling me how stupid this is and swear on your life not to tell anyone.”

Wanda’s defensive demeanour shifted lightly at your words, concern shining in her eyes as he nodded, not entirely sure what you were going to tell her. Walking past her you made your way over to the draw in your kitchen that had all your final notice bills in, the multitude of letters stacked neatly and tied together with an elastic band. Wanda took the bills from your hand, eyes widening as she flicked through them and saw just how bad your financial situation really was.

“Oh Y/N, I knew it was getting tough but I had no idea it was this bad,” Wanda’s expression changed to one of sympathy, hand resting on your arm as a sign of comfort, “But I still don’t understand what dating Tony has to do with this.”

“Well, see we’re not really dating. It’s an act, one that I’m getting paid good money for, he just needs to prove himself to his company’s chair board to be stable and a ‘relationship’ is one of the ways to do it.”

“So, he’s paying you to play make believe with him?” Wanda still had her doubts in all of this and it was understandable, the more you told her the more ridiculous it sounded.

“Pretty much, I promise I’m not actually dating Tony Stark. There are absolutely no romantic feelings involved in this Wanda, we’re just going to be friends if anything.”

She definitely doesn’t need to know about the sex part of the arrangement, she’s struggling to accept this as it is.

You could see her pondering over everything you had told her, the gears turning in her head as she created a thousand and one ways this entire situation could go before she finally relented with a sigh; “Alright, alright. I promise my lips are sealed, just be careful ok?”

You let out a chuckle at her constant worry, pulling her in for a hug at her support, “I promise Wan, it’s not like I’m going to fall in love with Tony freakin’ Stark for God’s sake.”

The two of you dropped the discussion on your new means of earning money for the time being, deciding instead to have breakfast together before Wanda had to go to work at the floristry she owned in Brooklyn.

You were just sipping at the fresh cup of coffee you had made for yourself when another knock sounded at your door, only this time it wasn’t Wanda. A multitude of delivery men stood at your door carrying various boxes, bags, and dresses all in covers to protect them, every single thing they held had a designer name strapped across it that you could never even dream to afford and you stood staring at the men before you with your mouth agape, unable to comprehend just why Tony had got you so much.

“Miss Y/LN?” the voice of one of the delivery men snapped you out of your stupor and you nodded your head in conformation, “Where do you want us to put the bags Miss?”

Where indeed, they had more clothes on in their hands than you had in your wardrobe, you had no idea where you were going to store all of this. “Just, uh - the bedroom I guess?”

You lead them through your small apartment into your cramped bedroom and they placed everything Tony had gotten you on the floor and your bed, every surface seemingly covered in the poky room. Thanking the men as they left, you want back to your room to stare at the numerous bags and boxes that littered it, feeling like a child on Christmas morning opening their presents as you made your way through each one.

Tony really had bought you everything you could possibly need for tonight; Tiffany bags filled with stunning jewellery, Chanel bags brimming with make-up, Versace perfume that smelt heavenly, a selection of Louboutin boxes that held gorgeous shoes all in your size that fit perfectly, Tony had even had deliveries from Romanoff’s Delights with the most luxurious lingerie you had ever seen – how he knew your sizes was beyond you.

Rifling through the box of silken bras you found a note at the bottom: ‘Couldn’t help but think how good you’d look in these, Kitten. Feel free to wear them tonight, I’ll see you at 7:30. T x’

You couldn’t stop the amused smile spreading across your face at the note, shaking your head as a chuckle escaped you. You retrieved the card Tony gave you from your bedside table, punching the number into your phone and sending him a quick text.

- How the hell do you know my bra size?

You didn’t have to wait long before your phone was lighting up with Tony’s response.

- I have my ways, Sugar. Do you like them?

You couldn’t help but smirk as you wrote out your response, only able to imagine his reaction.

- They’re cute but I normally prefer lace.

You could have sworn his reply was even faster this time and you could picture his shit eating grin as you read over his words.

- Lace huh? Kinky. I’ll have to remember that.

You put the phone down, moving to the dresses that were spread out over your bed, your amazement at the beautiful garments growing as you revealed each breath-taking design from the covers they were in. Each one fit you like a glove, accentuating some part of you and making you look better then you ever have before. These dresses were made to be worn by actual women, the lavish fabric cut and sown to adapt to the curves of the female body, unlike the cheap fabric that made up your other clothes that were designed to only look good on coat hangers.

You tried each dress on, admiring your reflection in the full-length mirror in the corner of your room and trying to decide which one you should wear tonight, not actually knowing anything about the event you would be going to. In the end, you decided to play it safe, choosing to stay classic and refined in the black number Tony had bought you; the material was unbelievably soft against your skin, the off-shoulder cut and fishtail trail giving you an effortless sense of elegance.

Once you finished playing dress-up, you put the other dresses in your closet, keeping them in their covers to protect the designer clothing. You tried to organise everything else Tony had bought you, as difficult a task as it was, you simply didn’t have much room to spare. Storing the smaller things like cosmetics and other luxury toiletries was easy, keeping them in your make-up bags and in the space available on your small, shabby vanity under the window but you had to keep the numerous shoes he had bought you in their boxes, stacking them in the corner of your room in an impressive tower.

You busied yourself tidying the apartment until it was time for you to get ready, heading towards your cramped bathroom with your new toiletries in hand. You filled the tub with water, examining the new bath oils Tony had provided you with, the regal styled bottle of Floris looking nearly too good to use and left you wondering just how much Tony had spent on you already. The soft scents of lime blossom and lily filled the room as the oil mixed with the running water and when your bath was just perfect your turned off the taps, stepping into the bath and easing into the warm water.

You relaxed in the tub until the water went cold, the oils making your skin feel soft under your fingers and you couldn’t wait to test out everything else Tony had bought for you. You dried yourself off and styled your hair, moving to do your make-up before slipping on your underwear; you took a moment to admire yourself glammed up in nothing but your luxury lingerie, hands roaming down your sides and over the material of your panties, noticing how similar your skin felt to the expensive silk and smiling at your reflection.

You slipped the dress on, smoothing the material down your body as it clung to you like a second skin, matching it with a pair of the Louboutin’s gifted to you before you took the necklace from the Tiffany’s box, clasping it around your neck and admiring the way the pearls alternated by diamonds wrapped around your throat. Your reflection was nearly unrecognisable, you were certain you had never seen as much money in your life like you were wearing at the current moment, you only hoped it would be enough to impress Tony because it was definitely an improvement to waiting tables.

Your phone pinged on your bedside table and you read the text from Tony, telling you that he was a few minutes out from your apartment. Gathering the Yves Saint Lauren clutch bag that completed the outfit and shoving your phone and other necessities into it, you gave yourself one last glance in the mirror to make sure everything was perfect before heading out the door, grateful to not run into Wanda on your way out and sparing yourself her concerned looks.

By the time you got downstairs to the entrance of your building, Happy was waiting by the door, giving you a small smile and nod of his head as greeting before leading you over to the car and opening the door for you, to which you thanked him before gracefully sliding into the backseat of the pricey car that you noticed was different to the one that brought you home the night before. Tony was already seated in the back, sipping on a glass a scotch from the mini bar to the side of him, his eyebrow raised as his gaze swept over you, his tongue poking out the lick at the amber liquid that stained his bottom lip.

“Well Gorgeous, money definitely suits you, that’s for sure.” Tony reached for the glass of bubbling champagne already poured, handing you the flute as his eyes continued to roam your body. “How are you feeling?”

You took a sip of the sparkling liquid, feeling it fizz on your tongue as you savoured the taste, “A little nervous but nothing I can’t handle. Do you think we’ll be convincing enough?”

Leaning back and resting his head against the back of his seat, Tony let his eyes slip closed as a chuckle escaped his lips, “Sweetheart, all I have to do to make this look convincing to the world is go in there and make it look like I want nothing more than to take you home – and with the way you look right now that isn’t going to be a challenge in the slightest.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, unable to fight the smile playing at his lips as you heard the underlying compliment under everything he was saying: you look nice. You couldn’t help but admire just how good Tony looked in a suit; waistcoat visible from between his open jacket, the crisp white shirt a contrast to the all-black ensemble, the burgundy tie the only colour evident. The white strip of his handkerchief was barely peeking over his breast-pocket and you couldn’t deny how classy the man looked.

You both made idle chitchat as the car made its way towards the hotel and it struck you how easy you found it to talk to Tony, there was no awkward silences or forced conversations you could simply be around him. Maybe it was due to all the messages you exchanged before you released just who ‘iron man’ was or maybe it was just the fact that Tony was just someone who you could be around, you didn’t know nor did you dwell on the issue – it was a good sign that this arrangement would work and that’s all you needed to know.

Happy finally pulled up outside of the Plaza and the flashing of cameras could be seen even through the tinted glass of the car windows and a sudden wave of anxiety struck you; you had no idea how to act in these sort of formal events and you didn’t want to discredit Tony, not only that but you would effectively be meeting so many people who came from such a different background to you, what if they could see right through the fine clothes and jewellery and looked down on you?

Sensing your abrupt apprehension, Tony took your hand in his, thumb rubbing calming circles into the skin on the back, intense gaze willing you to look up at him; “Hey, it’ll be fine, ok? Don’t worry about it, just stick by my side and we’ll be golden.”

Your eyes met his, finding nothing but sincerity in his stare as your teeth nibbled on your bottom lip, a nervous habit you had, nodding your head in agreement. You didn’t miss the way Tony’s eyes followed the notion, his eyes becoming heavily lidded as his tongue peeked out to swipe over his lips before a smirk spread across them. The sight gave you a boost of confidence and your lips curled in a cheeky grin which only grew as Tony chuckled, muttering ‘trouble’ under his breath and lacing his fingers through yours.

The door to the car opened, Happy standing by waiting for you and Tony to exit and shutting the door behind you. The bright flashes from the photographers where blinding and the shouts from multiple reporters asking Tony a million and one questions about who you were and what was happening with Stark Industries was deafening. Pulling you closer to him by your waist, Tony whispered in your ear to just smile and ignore them, the both of you making your way to the front of the building and being escorted inside by a member of staff.

You breathed a sigh of relief when the doors closed behind you and the relentless questions were muted. Tony’s hand didn’t move from your waist as you were lead through the hotel and towards the charity dinner that was being held in the terrace room and you couldn’t find a single part of you that cared, if anything Tony’s signs of attraction towards you were welcome – you couldn’t deny you found the man alluring and you were most definitely looking forward to the afterparty he had planned for the both of you.

The room the charity ball was being held in was stunning, easily one of the most luxurious places you had the fortune of seeing, the room practically glowing golden under the lights of the chandeliers. There were tables dotted around the room, most already occupied, and in the centre, there was a dancefloor that already had a few patrons twirling elegantly on it. As Tony led you to what you assumed were your assigned seats, you couldn’t help but take in the beauty around you, the intricate architecture of the room was breath-taking and the people that filled it matched seamlessly; men dressed in perfectly styled suits, practically oozing class and style and the women were decorated in fine dresses, appearing to be dipped in the most precious jewels that sparkled under the low-light of the room.

Even with all the money Tony had spent on this outfit alone you still couldn’t help feeling out of place, as if they could see through the charade you were trying so desperately to put on: Tony could put you in the most expensive dresses in the world, it still wouldn’t change the fact that this wasn’t the company and lifestyle you were accustomed to.

Tony stopped in front of a table that already had a few taken seats, cocking an eyebrow at the group until they stopped talking and turned to you both; the gorgeous red-head’s eyes travelled over you and you couldn’t help but feel she was going to eat you alive, her expression unwavering as she picked you apart. The two men seated beside her seemed much more welcoming and you couldn’t help but think that you’d seen them before; a tall blonde with kind eyes and a trusting smile and his brunette friend with piercing blue eyes and a cheeky grin that made you melt a little inside.

“Guys, this is Y/N, my date. Y/N, this is Steve, Bucky, and Nat,” Tony introduced you to everyone as he pulled out your chair for, making sure you were comfortable before sitting down next to you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Y/N,” the blond – Steve – said, pulling your hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Your eyes widened at the gesture, you didn’t even think anyone in the 21st century did that anymore.

Before you could take your hand back, it was already firmly clasped in Bucky’s; “A great pleasure Dollface, you look spectacular.” Bucky pulled your hand to his mouth, steel-blue eyes locked on yours as he pressed a kiss to the skin and you felt your face heat up at the action.

“Alright Barnes hands to yourself, this is my date unless you forgot.” Tony shot Bucky a look, his arm coming to wrap around your shoulder and pulling you into his side, a silent demand for Bucky to keep his charms to himself.

Barnes? Wait, as in James?

Your eyes flittered between Steve and Bucky before you put the pieces in place: “Wait, wait, wait; you’re James Barnes and Steve Rogers? As in Barnes and Rogers Attorneys? You guys are the best lawyers out there!”

Although you were slightly embarrassed by your fangirlish outburst nothing you had said wasn’t true. Barnes and Rogers were the best of the best and their clientele list only proved that fact – they were even the designated attorneys for Stark Industries if you remembered correctly. Steve and Bucky’s eyebrows both shot up at your exclamation, not expecting to be recognised by one of Tony Starks dates.

“Uh, yeah that’s us. You’ve heard of our work?” Steve was still in shock, not knowing how to handle the sudden attention on him whereas Bucky seemed to be basking in it.

“Of course. I used some of your work as case studies at law school, it’s very impressive stuff.”

This caught all three’s attention; Steve still looking adorably shocked, Bucky leaning forward in his chair and even Nat – who had been pretty adamant on ignoring your presence up until now – arched a brow at you, a look of confusion washing over her features as her eyes darted over to Tony, trying to get a read on him.

“You’re a lawyer?” Bucky asked and you were sure that if his eyebrows got any higher they would be forever lost in his hairline.

You fumbled slightly at this question, were you technically a lawyer if you weren’t employed? More importantly, what exactly were you supposed to tell them?

“Uh y-yes. I’m just taking some time to myself before I jump into the field; I feel like I’ve spent every day of my life studying, I just want some time away before I dedicate myself to the job.” You glanced at Tony who was sipping on the champagne flute in his hands, he offered you a small nod and a smirk and you knew you were on the right track. You relaxed slightly at that, reaching forward for your own glass as you smiled at the people before you.

“So where exactly did you two meet?” You nearly choked on your drink at Natasha’s question but quickly saved yourself from sputtering like a fool.

“Yeah Stark,” Bucky gasped dramatically, clutching his hand to his chest in mock theatrics, “Have you been seeing other lawyers behind our backs? I thought what we had was special!”

You felt Tony stiffen beside you and panic began to set in, the two of you had gone over nearly everything - apart from a story to explain how the hell the two of you had met. Natasha squinted her eyes at you both and you could practically hear the gears whirring in Tony’s head to try and come up with something, anything!

Thinking fast you came up with a something simple and easy to remember in case you were asked again and hoped it would work, you knew the longer you stayed in silence the stranger It looked. “Tony bumped into me on the street one day and I dropped my coffee, he insisted he buy me a new one and we got talking and it led to him asking me on a date.”

You could see the tension leave Tony’s body as you gave the three of them a plausible explanation, his hand coming to rest on your thigh and giving it a squeeze that said what he currently couldn’t voice – thank you. Steve and Bucky seemed to buy it straight away but Natasha still seemed cautious, turning towards Tony and asking him directly, you wouldn’t be able to save him this time. “You brought her to this boring-ass charity event as a first date? This thing is going to drag on for hours.”

“I didn’t bring her here as a first date; our first date was last night,” Tony seemed to have regained his confidence after that little stumble and was currently the perfect picture of relaxation against his friends ruthless questioning; he was reclined against the back of the chair, his arm draped over the back of yours as he swirled his drink around his glass with the other.

His words, however, had all three sets of eyes staring at you both in complete astonishment. Tony had managed to stun Steve so much that his glass had stopped moving towards his lips, frozen in mid-air as he tried to process Tony’s words.

Bucky was the first to break out of whatever spell he was under, shaking his head and letting out a disbelieving chuckle; “I’m sorry – did you just say this was your second date?”

“Yep,” Tony popped the ‘p’, completely unfazed by his friends whereas you were more than confused at their response.

“Huh, I guess pigs really do fly. Tony Stark is on a second date,” Steve muttered under his breath before taking a big drink from his glass.

“You guys should really get used to seeing her face around here cause there’s going to be more dates too.” You turned to face Tony at his words and he offered you a sly smirk to which you could only respond with a shy smile.

The three of them decided to drop the subject, instead asking you about your life – Bucky and Steve particularly interested in your education. The evening seemed to be going smoothly but you still couldn’t shake the idea that Natasha did not like you one bit and you couldn’t help but be intimidated by her.

A few others joined the table, taking the attention of Bucky and Steve off you and you decided to try and forge a steadier footing with Nat, especially if you were going to be spending more time around Tony’s friends. Tony watched with a curious look as you moved to sit next to Nat, taking a shaky breath to steady your nerves, “So what do you do Nat?”

The red-head rolled her eyes at you, opening her mouth to speak but only being cut off by one of the newer guests at the table, Norman Osborn. “Natasha owns Romanoff’s delights, sexiest lingerie there is – I sure as hell won’t go near a bitch that isn’t in it,” Osborn chuckled, the sound as repulsive as its origins and you could see Nat’s jaw tick as her fists clenched on her lap.

Before she had a chance to retort, your temper got the best of you, your head snapping towards Osborn as your glare burned holes in his head; “I believe I asked Natasha. I suggest you keep your unwanted opinions to yourself,” The man began to snort indignantly as you spoke, seemingly offended at being called out by you, “I just hope to god you provide the girls you fuck with blindfolds cause they sure as hell need them to sleep with you.”

Osborn left in a flurry of mumbled curses, face bright red with mortification at being so publicly humiliated. As he retreated you suddenly became aware of what exactly you said, face burning hot in horror as you felt the stares of four sets of eyes on you, looking around the table you could see the same look of complete and utter shock mirrored on each face and you truly thought that it was all over for you.

That was until Bucky burst out laughing, tears streaming down his face with his mirth, Steve shaking his head as laughter escaped him too. Tony actually looked proud of you, his head tilting back as if he was appraising you, happy with the choice he had made. And Nat? Nat, for the first time since you had walked over to the table, was smiling at you, her green eyes shining with humour and her gaze once again swept over you – only this time it didn’t feel nearly as threatening, more like she was seeing you for the first time.

“Oh god, that was hilarious! Did you see his face?” Bucky had barley recovered from his uproar, eyes wiping away the stray tears.

“This one’s feisty Stark, you so sure you can handle her?” Steve joked, sending a wink your way as he smacked Bucky on the back, trying to calm his friend down.

Tony pressed a kiss to your temple, easing your building nerves as he gave you a reassuring smile, eyes not leaving yours as he answered Steve: “Nope, but I’m sure as hell gonna try.”

After your little outburst, Natasha’s attitude towards you completely changed, her hostility completely vanished and she welcomed you into her little group of friends, enthusiastically telling you about her work, gushing over her fiancé and her upcoming wedding and asking you questions about your own life. This time, however, she held a genuine interest and curiosity rather than probing for information to try and get a read on you. You found yourself relaxing around her and actual started enjoying her company – especially when she started telling you the most hilarious stories about Tony and the ridiculous situations he somehow got himself into.

You couldn’t help the raucous laughter that escaped when Nat told you about the time Tony had to run through a hotel with nothing but a napkin to cover his dignity to avoid paparazzi after a failed one-night stand, tears streaming down your cheeks at Nat’s recall of the memorable event and the red-head had to fan herself to try and keep composure, much to Tony’s chagrin but he was pleased you seemed to be mixing well with his friends, it was a promising sign.

Nat tried to stifle her giggles as she spotted a familiar figure make his way through the crowds, the smile that spread across her face the brightest you had seen on her all night and she practically glowed as she locked eyes with the man who you could only assume was the fiancé she had told you about. The man’s eyes that were focused on Nat as if she was the only person in the room, the burgundy suit he wore standing out amongst the sea of black and navy he was parting, and you noted how beautiful a couple they made.

“Hey beautiful, sorry I’m late traffic was crazy,” He ducked down, pressing a kiss to Nat’s ruby painted lips which she eagerly responded to.

Breaking away from the kiss, Nat introduced you to her fiancé, “Sam this is Y/N – Tony’s date. Y/N, this is my fiancé, Sam Wilson.”

Sam cast you a bright smile, enthusiastically taking your hand in his and shaking it; “Nice to meet you Y/N, thanks for keeping my girl company whilst I was held up.”

“It was no problem, she’s good fun to be around,” You and Nat shared a smile, something which caused Sam to raise an eyebrow to and he turned to Bucky and Steve quizzically.

“Ok, what’d I miss?”

Such a simple question spouted another round of laughs from the boys and you could only look bashful in response: “We’ll explain later, you want a drink?”

The boys and Nat left towards to the bar leaving you and Tony alone for the first time that night, his arm circled your shoulder pulling you into his chest as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “How are you feeling?” He murmured into the sensitive skin of your neck before kissing it, teeth nipping it lightly, lips curling into a smirk as he heard you gasp, your hand shooting down to clutch at his thigh.

“Honestly? It’s going great, your friends are really nice,” You hummed as Tony’s beard scratched the column of your throat and it took everything within you to stop yourself from outright moaning at the sensation, “Do you think that little, uh, outburst is going to bother people?”

Tony’s chuckle tickled your skin and you couldn’t help squirming in his hold before he raised his head from where it was buried in your shoulder, turning you to softly kiss your lips as his hand sought out your own, entwining your fingers together and giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Trust me, that was the funniest thing that’s ever happened at one of these things and it sure as hell hasn’t put anyone off you, ‘specially not me. I told you; you’re trouble of the best possible kind. It’s refreshing, for all of us really.”

Not knowing what else to say, you opted to kiss him instead; your lips caressing his, eyes fluttering shut as his hand cupped your neck, tongues tangling in a languid dance, his hand slowly sliding up your thigh as your own hand buried itself in his thick hair. Your first kiss with Tony Stark and my god could you get used to the feeling of those lips on yours. The man had a talented tongue.

You had nearly forgotten you were in a very public place with a very noticeable figure and you definitely had forgotten that this was only your second date with said figure. You had no idea why you were so comfortable around Tony so early on: maybe it was his charms, maybe it was the fact that you knew it wasn’t exactly real, merely beneficial for both parties, either way, it didn’t matter.

The sound of someone shouting ‘Stark!’ pulled you out of your thoughts and you detached yourself from Tony, chest slightly heaving and a flush painting your cheeks as you noticed just how lost in the moment you were. Tony cleared his throat, swiping his hands through his hair to fix his tousled tresses and you knew he was as dazed as you, causing a swell of pride to grow inside you – it takes a lot to be able to fluster a playboy.

You both turned to the source of the shouts and you watched as Tony leapt from his seat, a grin on his face as you embraced the man in front of him in a strong hug, “Rhodes, God it’s good to see you. I didn’t know you were back, where’s Carol? How is everything?”

“It’s good to be back Tony, Carol’s flying back in a couple days; I came early to make sure everything was set. Everything’s going great man, business is good, life’s good. I can’t complain about a thing – who’s your friend?”

The man, Rhodes, was clearly a good friend of Tony’s – he was practically flying out of his chair to great him and Rhodes only responded with equal enthusiasm.

Tony turned to you, offering you a hand and helping you out of your seat, wrapping an arm around your waist as he made introductions; “Rhodey, this is Y/N Y/LN, my date. Y/N, this is James Rhodes, my best friend and former trouble-seeking companion, before he became boring of course.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes at Tony good-naturedly and turned to you with a smile, speaking to you but aiming his words at Tony, “And by ‘becoming boring’ he means settling down, something he should be doing by now – it’s nice to meet you Y/N, good luck with this one, alright?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the playful banter between the two of them, it was clear that they were good friends with the way that they dug into each other, something only people who are extremely comfortable with each other do.

You spent some time talking with Rhodey, learning more about his life and becoming increasingly impressed the more you heard about him; Rhodey used to be a Colonel in the US Airforce – which is where he met Tony in his weapons manufacturing days but since then had left to start his own business, using his expertise of aircraft to start his own airplane manufacturing company with his wife Carol Danvers, which was doing quite well in his own modest opinion.

Rhodey and Tony seemed thrilled to be back together again and Rhodey was only more than willing to tell you of all the ridiculous stunts Tony had pulled; between the stories Rhodey was telling you and what Nat had said you were beginning to wonder how he ever had time to actually invent anything for Stark Industries.

You and Tony spent some more time with Rhodey, his arm not once leaving your waist before another man caught Tony’s attention, this time Tony’s reaction was void of any excitement and he actually seemed nervous. Both you and Rhodey caught the shift in Tony’s demeanour and Rhodey decided to make his exit, telling you it was nice meeting you but he had yet to make his rounds around the room, patting Tony’s arm as he moved past him.

Studying Tony’s face, you noticed how his brow furrowed ever so slightly, his lips drawn tight in a grimace as he studied the older man laughing in a group a few tables away. His attention was solely on him and all traces of happiness he had at seeing his best friend again had vanished. You rested your head on his shoulder, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek, your hand cradling his face and diverting his attention back to you. “You ok?” you whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear and draw attention to yourselves.

Tony blinked down at you as if he was coming out of a trance, offering you a forced smile that wasn’t fooling you for a second, “I’m fine it’s just - see the guy in with the beard and cigar?” You nodded your head, eyes drifting over to the man that had seized Tony’s attention, “That’s Obadiah Stane, he was one of dad’s business partners, he’s pretty much the only family I have left now. He’s trying his best to help me keep the company but, well, with my track record of recklessness there’s only so much he can do.”

It was obvious how much this all meant to Tony and you vowed to yourself to help him keep his company in any way you could; you’d keep up the charade of the loved-up couple as long as you needed to, “Hey, that’s why I’m here right? It’ll all be ok, the board will vote in your favour, it’s your company. You’re Tony fucking Stark, what would they do without you?”

Tony pulled you into him, his arms encasing your waist in a tight hug as he shot you a crooked smirk, “I just don’t want to let him down.” The words were so faint you may have missed them if you hadn’t been pressed flat against his chest. Your heart nearly broke at the vulnerability Tony was showing you right now, you knew for certain this wasn’t a common occurrence for him - Tony Stark wasn’t a man that easily trusted - but he already had to put a lot of faith in you just to suggest this relationship.

Not having the words to reassure him, you pressed your lips against his in a gentle kiss which he eagerly responded to before breaking away, resting his forehead against yours, “You know, you’re really good at that.”

Giggling, you shook your head at him, “Come on, let’s go say hello.”

Obadiah Stane was a strange man, there was just something about him that you didn’t trust. Whereas Nat didn’t instantly take to you, she was at least obvious about it, Obadiah on the other hand hid his disdain for you, although not that well. You could see the flash of contempt as his eyes roamed over you as Tony introduced you before he schooled his features into an overbearing grin. He was too enthusiastic with his greeting, his grin not faltering for a moment and you knew it was all fake, the man didn’t like you at all and you didn’t know why for the life of you. You would have thought you would have been over the moon at the prospect of Tony showing signs of stability like the board wanted. Apparently not.

You remained silent throughout their conversation and Obadiah made no attempt to even try and talk to you. He and Tony mainly talked business but you could feel the stress rolling off Tony in waves, his body rigid under your hands and you knew he found Obadiah petrifying, there was a seriousness between them that was none-existent with Tony’s other friends. Their talk was brief before Obadiah was moving on, rubbing elbows with other rich businessmen who had little cares other than the absurd amounts of money they had.

“Come on, let’s dance,” Tony led you to the dancefloor, twirling you into his arms before swaying elegantly across the room, the music from the band creating the perfect ambiance for the night. One hand was rested on his shoulder and the other was firmly clasped in his, his hand on your waist pulling you close to his body as you mirrored every step he made, your faces barely a breaths width apart; it was oddly intimate, no words exchanged between the two of you as you simply enjoyed the feeling of being pressed against each other.

You could still hear the gears turning in Tony’s head, his anxiety obvious after his encounter with Obadiah but you didn’t want to talk about him, not trusting him and not wanting to put those feelings on Tony, he was already weighed down with so much. So, you did what you thought was right, you distracted Tony the best way you knew; humour.

These kinds of places were always full of snooty woman and patronising men and you took advantage of this, casting your eyes around the dancefloor for victims of your game, finding suitable couples and telling Tony your playful thoughts about them much to his amusement.

“See the guy that looks like the fat controller from Thomas the Tank engine dancing with Cruella De Vil?” You cast your eyes the couple stiffly dancing not too far from you, smirking to yourself as Tony subtly turned to see them.

His eyes found them and a cheeky grin spread across his face, biting down on his lower lip to try and stifle the chortle your comparison had brought out of him, not looking away from the short, round man and the tall, thin, woman draped in furs who were rigid in their movements across the dancefloor, heads held obnoxiously high as if they were too good for the present company, “What about them?”

“Bet they have sex as stiffly as they dance; I’m talking full on robotics in the bedroom, it’s not the bed that squeaks its Mr. Roboto and I guarantee her face doesn’t change from that bored as fuck expression the entire time.”

Tony could barely contain his boisterous laughter and you had to bury your face in his chest to muffle the sound of your own giggles, your body shaking with your laughter and you peeked up to see tears forming in the corners of his eyes, face turning red as he tried not to cause a scene.

“You’re unreal, you know that right?” Tony asked.

“Oh I’m very real Mr. Stark, I’m just unlike anyone you’ve ever met before,” You purred into his ear, lips grazing the shell with every words you spoke, the sultry tone of your voice causing Tony’s eyes to dilate with desire.

“Oh Gorgeous, I am really starting to see that,” Tony licked his lips as his eyes glided over yours, desperate to lean forward and close the small gap between you, “Do you want a drink?”

You nodded your head as Tony led you away from the dancefloor and towards the table where Nat, Sam, Steve, and Bucky were all situated, laughing amongst themselves whilst he went to the bar. They welcomed you back, all animosity that Nat previously held for you gone as if it was never there and she even gestured to the seat next to her for you to sit in as Tony got you your drinks. You were quickly pulled into the conversation they were having, Nat and Sam telling everyone about the engagement party they were planning, hands entwined the entire time, looking at each other as if they were the most incredible thing they had ever seen; it was obvious they were head over heels in love with each other.

Tony returned with your drinks, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he sat down next to you, the action not going unnoticed by the others who were still very stumped as to what exactly was going on with Tony; this was not typical Tony Stark behaviour, that was for sure. Nevertheless, no one mentioned it and the conversation continued, laughs being shared amongst everyone and you felt yourself relaxing amongst your new company; they were good people and you were enjoying yourself which is far more than you thought would happen tonight.

The night went on until you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, Nat jumping out of her seat to accompany you, her sudden excitement to head to the bathroom with you confused you but you let it slide – maybe she just wanted to make amends for how she treated you earlier.

Once you were finished, you excited the stall to find Nat checking the others to make sure that you two were actually alone in the room before she turned to you, arms crossed against her chest as a sly smirk curled her lips, “It’s been bugging me all night – you and Tony. But I think I finally have it figured out.”

You tried to fight the rising fear in you, there was no way she could possibly know the truth, right? You hadn’t once mentioned the situation between you and Tony, how the hell could she actual see it after one night? Dear God, how obvious had you been? You attempted to school your features into a look of confusion but you knew your eyes were wide, giving you the look of a dear caught in headlights.

“What do you mean? We’re just dating Nat,” You cursed yourself for the way your voice broke at the end but Natasha Romanoff was an frightening woman, there was no avoiding that fact, especially when she appeared to be aiming her efforts at you.

“But it’s not just dating, is it? You’ve got a special arrangement going on; I couldn’t figure it out at first, you’re not one of Stark’s typical dates – you know how to use a knife and fork for starters and you could actually hold a conversation about something other than nailcare – but I still couldn’t figure out what exactly was going on between you. Then it hit me, when he took you over to Obadiah, you’ve got a very specific purpose for him. You’re the girl that’s going to make Tony Stark look domesticated, tamed from his wild playboy days and seem capable enough to run his own business that is being threatened to be taken away from him. But you’re smart and he wouldn’t be able to string you along without you realising, which means you’re in on it too, and getting something out of it.”

“You’re not choosing to spend some time away from the job you worked so long to get, are you? You can’t actually find one, it’s a tough world and sometimes life just doesn’t work the way you want. Just tell me something though; how the hell did Tony Stark find his sugar baby?”

You were going to be sick. Physically sick.

No one was supposed to know and not even one night into this relationship you’d already been called out. There was no way you could deny it, Nat had everything figured out and you could only stand there gapping at her, struggling to form the words needed to explain yourself.

With a sigh, you ducked your head, trying to avoid Nat’s smug smile as she watched you try to worm your way out of the situation. “Online – there was a website I signed up for and we started talking,” You relented, words tinged with dejection.

Oh god, was she going to tell everyone?

“My god, there is literally a website for everything these days – that’s sure as hell not how I did it.”

Your head snapped up at her words. ‘Not how she did it’? Surely that didn’t mean what you thought it did.

“I- you- What?” You stammered out in the most inelegant fashion, chastising yourself in your head for sounding like a bumbling idiot.

Before Nat had a chance to answer you, the door to the bathroom opened and two giggling, clearly intoxicated girls tried to enter. Emphasis on tried.

Nat’s head snapped in their direction, barking “Out!” at them and watching them immediately turn on their heel and head towards another restroom in the hotel. Even you jumped at the severity of her voice but when she turned back to you she held nothing but humour in her expression.

“Of course, how did you think I met Sam?” She stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe she thought everyone was as perceptive as she apparently was.

“Wait, so, you were Sam’s... sugar baby?” You were uncertain in your asking, praying to every God there was that you hadn’t somehow misread this whole situation and were making a complete fool of yourself.

Nat’s melodic laughter caught you off guard and you panicked thinking you really had got this whole thing wrong. “Oh no sweetness, I wasn’t the sugar baby – he was.”

Noticing your slack jaw, Natasha explained herself further, “I didn’t want to date but everyone else expected it of me – commitment wasn’t my forte and I had some severe trust issues – but I still had to come to these god-forsaken things and listen to people’s judgements of me. Appearances mean a lot in this world and the pressure was starting to get to me, and then I met Sam. He had just lost his job as an accountant and, well, you can’t live in New York for free. So, I propositioned him, I pay him a hefty salary to follow me everywhere and anywhere I needed him too. The whole world would think he was my boyfriend, getting every gossip monger out there off my back, and Sam wouldn’t be homeless. It was a win-win.”

“So, the engagement?”

“Oh no, that’s all real. God, I wouldn’t go as far as to fake a marriage. I guess one day it just wasn’t acting anymore, I genuinely loved him, he just became my person, you know? The one person you turn to for everything; all the good times and the bad, your shoulder to cry on and your body to hug in happiness. And I, unknowingly, became that for him. I knew the original deal wouldn’t work anymore now that I loved him, so I let him go, got him a job as an accountant at a good company and honestly, I never expected to see him again. But if Sam’s good at one thing, it’s his ability to always be able to surprise me. I let him go, but he was still always there for me. I guess that’s when the real thing began and now we’re here, ready to be together for the rest of our lives.”

By the time Nat had finished, she had a wistful smile on her face from remembering all the things she had shared with Sam and you couldn’t stop your own smile from lighting up your face as you heard the red-head gush about her fiancé.

“You’re not going to tell anyone about me and Tony, right Nat?” You were still unsure what Nat was going to do and you wrung your hands together as you awaited her answer.

“God no! I would never do that, I swear,” She moved towards you, placing her hands on your shoulders, “I just wanted you to know that I know what you’re going through, trust me when I say that this isn’t always going to be easy but if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

You heaved a sigh of relief, thanking the woman in front of you that had only known you for a few hours and yet was still showing you so much kindness. You’re first impression of her was wrong, that was for sure.

“Don’t worry about it. Honestly, I’m kinda glad to have you around, it’s a very testosterone filled environment and to say you make things interesting is an understatement,” Nat shot you a wink, clearly referring to your slight confrontation earlier.

You and Nat didn’t realise how long you had been in the restroom, time becoming lost to you both as Nat told you about the time her and Sam got a little reckless at a charity auction and had to walk out in front of everyone completely dishevelled as they were bidding off Jane Fonda’s leotard. Hearing about how Nat’s panties were clearly sticking out of Sam’s back pocket as they made their way down the centre aisle of the auction had you clutching your stomach in hysterics, Nat’s laughter just as boisterous.

“Worth it though, that boy has the finest ass, that’s for sure,” Nat quipped, causing another round of laughter from the pair of you.

It was only when a knock sounded on the door and you both turned to see Tony peeking his head into the room, his brow raised as he watched you and Nat laughing together, “Uh, Romanoff? Do you maybe think I can take my date back? You guys have been in here forever.”

“Gee, I don’t know Stark. I might want to keep her,” Nat hopped off the basin countertop she was sitting on, linking her arm through yours and walking towards the door where Tony stood, utterly perplexed at what he was seeing.

Nat stopped in front of Stark, detaching her arm from yours and leaving you with Tony, walking back to the table and Sam but not before calling over her shoulder, “I like this one, Stark. You better keep her around.”

You were certain you could have knocked Tony down with a feather with how stunned his was and you couldn’t help but giggle at him, he looked awfully adorable when he was baffled like this.

“Ok, were you eating her out in there or something?”

The seriousness of his absurd question caused you to choke on your, “What on God’s earth are you talking about Tony?”

“How the hell did you get Natasha Romanoff to like you after one night? It took her years to warm up to me!”

“I’m just a very likeable person Mr. Stark, I thought you knew that by now,” You grabbed Tony’s hand and starting walking backwards, pulling him along with you, “But if you want, I can show you how likeable I can be later.”

Shaking his head, Tony quickly closed the space between you, his arms snaking around your hips and pulling you flush to him, crashing his lips on yours in a breath-taking kiss, tongue dancing with yours before pulling away, nipping at your bottom lip as he did and a slight moan escaped you at the action.

“Believe me Gorgeous, I know just how likeable you are. Now come on,” Tony began walking through the crowds and towards the exit to which you furrowed your brows.

“Where are we going?”

“I’ve wanted to head straight to my apartment and skip this whole thing ever since I saw you tonight, we’re going back to mine - it’s time for your second interview Sugar, and something tells me you aren’t about to disappoint.”

a/n: i don’t have a tag list but if you want alerts please follow @angelicthorwrites and turn on notifications

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony x reader #iron man x reader #tony stark series #angelicthorwrites

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chuffyfan87 · 4 years

Text

Growing Pains. Part 1a (NSFW)

Cowritten with @disastrousintention. Sequel to Hiding. Set appropriately six years after the end of that fic.

-x-

It was Christmas morning in the Fairhead household but it wasn't just any Christmas - today was special for another reason. Christmas meant it was also the twins' birthday. It was a special birthday for the girls, they’d finally hit the age of thirteen.

Despite now being teenagers they still got up at the crack of dawn, running upstairs and banging on their parents' bedroom door.

"Mum! Dad! Wake up!"

“Urgh!” Charlie groaned loudly as he rolled over and cuddled Duffy’s naked body, “Girls! Its... 6am!”

"But it's our birthday!" Tilly replied excitedly.

“I know but your mum’s nice, warm and naked.”

“Urgh, Dad that’s gross!” Lottie replied, pulling a face.

"Charlie!" Duffy gasped.

“We’re gonna go back to our room, we’ll give you ten minutes to finish whatever you’re doing.” Tilly and Lottie went back to their room.

"They'll be very disappointed to know that I'm just going to go back to sleep!" Duffy chuckled, fluffing her pillow.

Charlie's hands roamed her body, “Just sleep?”

"I was up late last night helping Santa unload his sack." She giggled before stretching like a cat.

“And not just the one on his back either, I seem to recall.” He smirked, his hands cupping her breasts. “Five minute quickie?”

"Oh you're such a romantic!" She giggled as she rolled onto her back.

He moved over the top of her and was about to enter her when the door handle began to rattle. “Mummy!” It was Paul.

"That lock was the best idea we ever had!" Duffy chuckled as she moved to get up. She grabbed her nighty from the floor and threw it on before going to see what Paul wanted. "Morning sunshine!" She smiled at the six year old.

“Certainly was.” Charlie began to get changed, throwing on some pyjama bottoms and his dressing gown.

Paul smiled at his mum, “Santa been?”

"He has, shall we see what he got you?" She asked, taking her dressing gown from the hook behind the door.

“Lots of toys.” Paul replied with a giggle.

"Just what we need - more toys!" Duffy chuckled.

“More toys!” Paul grinned and dived towards the stairs. “Everyone awake!! Everyone up!!” He began to shout.

"Paul! Shush!" Duffy urged but it was too late. The twins and Oli came bounding out to join them.

“It’s our birthday!” The girls loudly declared.

"Now you're both the same age as me again." Emily grumbled sleepily as she joined them all on the landing.

“Cheer up Em! Won’t be for long.” They playfully nudged each side of their sister.

"Where are Jake and Louis?" Oli asked, noticing that his big brothers hadn't joined them.

“Here.” They both grumbled as they came out of their rooms, rubbing their eyes and yawning.

“It’s far too early!” Louis complained.

"Its alright for Peter, I bet he's still asleep in his flat right now." Jake grumbled.

“Doing god knows what with girls!” Louis laughed loudly.

"Boys!" Duffy chided.

“Sorry.” Louis replied with a smile.

"Peter will be joining us for lunch later. Alone as far as I'm aware." Duffy replied pointedly.

Charlie knew Peter was seeing someone, well several girls in fact. He’d heard the rumours.

Whilst at uni Peter had thrown himself headfirst into the social aspects of life away from home. Despite this he had still graduated well and was now working full time.

And Charlie couldn’t have been prouder of the fact he’d graduated in Chemical Engineering and was doing a job he loved. “Come on then rugrats, let’s go and see what Santa’s brought.”

The lounge was full with stacks of presents each wrapped in a different colour of paper with a name tag on the top to indicate the recipient.

“Santa did good.” Charlie replied as he lent against the door.

"He did very good indeed." Duffy winked.

Charlie kissed Duffy’s cheek as they moved to sit on the sofa and watched the children fight for the presents.

What had taken hours to buy, wrap and stack descended into chaos in a matter of minutes!

The girls whistled, causing everyone to stop arguing.

Jake stared in amazement at his youngest sisters. Who knew they could whistle that loud?!

“Can we dismantle this pile a lot quieter?” Tilly asked.

"Since when did you not like noise?" Emily asked, her eyebrow raised in perfect imitation of her mother.

“When it gives me a headache.” Tilly answered back. Only for Emily to roll her eyes, once again in Perfect imitation of her mother and response with a mutter, “God thats got to be a first.”

"Emily be nice." Duffy smiled, shaking her head indulgently at Tilly.

Emily pouted. “Ok mama.”

Reaching behind the sofa Duffy then handed a wrapped package to Charlie. "Merry Christmas handsome."

Charlie smiled as he took hold of the present, “I may have forgot to buy you one.” He teased.

She stuck her tongue out at him and turned back to watch the children, pretending to be in a huff.

The children couldn’t stay in a huff for long and soon it was all forgotten about as they opened their presents. Charlie took the wrapping paper off his present.

"I hope you like it. I wasn't really sure what to get you."

“I’ve got everything I ever need.” He smiled brightly.

"Your legendary charm won't save you if you really haven't gotten me a present!" Duffy giggled.

“Of course I’ve brought you a present. Would I not?” He kissed her cheek.

"Where is it then?" She pouted playfully.

He whispered something rude into her ear that caused them both to laugh.

"You wouldn't?" She giggled.

“Is that a challenge, Mrs Fairhead?”

"Sounds like one to me!"

He smirked. “You’re on.”

"Oh I'm looking forward to this!"

He chuckled softly.

A little while later the Christmas presents were all unwrapped and the twins were begging to open their birthday presents.

“Go on then, knock yourselves out kiddos.”

"Woohoo!" Tilly and Lottie yelled with excitement.

The girls began to open their birthday presents. There was a series of delighted shrieks and giggles as the girls tore open their birthday presents.

“Yes! Mum, dad, thank you so much!”

"We got the right thing then?" Duffy asked with a smile.

“Yes!”

"Phew! I nearly sent your dad to get it but decided better of it." Duffy giggled.

“Dad would’ve got the wrong one.”

"More than likely." Duffy teased, nudging her husband playfully.

“Well, that’s just rude.” Charlie answered and pouted.

Seeing his dad's face Oli ran over and gave him a cuddle.

Charlie picked up his son and hugged him tightly, “Love you.” He said quietly.

"You're the best daddy!" Oli grinned.

Charlie's heart wanted to burst. “I’m glad you think so, little man.”

"Santa got me a remote control car daddy!" Oli continued excitedly.

“Did he?” Charlie grinned, “How did he know you wanted one of those?”

"I wrote it in my letter!" Oli replied giggling.

“The letter you sent to Santa?”

"Yeh! You were there when I wrote it daddy!"

"Funny that!" Louis smirked.

“Was I? I don’t remember you writing a letter to Santa.”

"Daddy you're so silly!"

Charlie began to tickle Oli gently.

As always it took longer to tidy up the mess made my unwrapping the presents than it did to unwrap them in the first place.

As he looked around the living room at every single child, bar Peter, Charlie found himself feeling emotional. He was so lucky to have such a wonderful family!

Though they often fought and teased each other it was clear that kids loved each other deep down. All the children, even Louis, had grown closer the older they’d got.

Leaving the children to play with their presents Duffy headed into the kitchen to make a start on lunch.

Charlie crept in the kitchen behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Hello again, gorgeous.”

"Have you come to help or distract me?" She giggled.

“Let me think.” His tongue ran against her earlobe, “Distract. Definitely distract.”

"Lucky I've gotten used to your distraction methods isn't it?"

“Well after x amount of years, I’d like to think so.”

"I'm not even going to dignify that by giving you the right number!" She shook her head indulgently at him before leaning back into his embrace as his hands started to wander.

“Twenty six years officially, isn’t it?” His hands moved towards her breasts.

"That's how long we've known each other yes."

“And you’re still just as sexy.”

"Do we need your eyes testing again?" She teased.

“No.” He cupped her breasts, “You are so sexy! You haven’t changed.”

"Hmm, I'll just have to take your word for that." She smiled as she arched her back slightly into his touch.

“Yes you will.” His hands moved from her breasts and slightly undid her dressing gown, his hands going under her nightie. “Would appear Charlie Jr still finds you incredibly gorgeous too.”

She wiggled her bottom against him. "He does indeed."

He groaned feeling her bottom wriggle. “I’d bend you over this counter and screw you right here.” He whispered in her ear.

"I'm not sure the kids would appreciate that!" She laughed.

“Probably not.”

"Shame coz I like the idea very much." She mused, grinning.

“We could always sneak off for ten minutes."

"You are a bad man..!" She purred.

“And you, Mrs Fairhead, are a bad, bad woman.”

"You wouldn't want me any other way."

“No. That’s true.”

Despite Charlie's best efforts to distract her Duffy managed to eventually get the dinner prepared and cooking.

Everyone had just about finished getting washed and dressed when Peter arrived to join them late in the morning.

Emily opened the door, “Thought I could smell you.” She said to Peter.

"And its lovely to see you too Emmy!"

She hugged her brother, “Nice to see you! You look well. Got a girlfriend yet?” She laughed as she began to move into the hall.

"Who are you? Mum?" Peter teased.

“Narr, not that old.” Emily laughed.

"Excuse me young lady?! What was that?" Duffy remarked as she entered the hallway. "Peter!" She grinned, pulling her eldest son into a hug.

#chuffy #charlie and duffy #charlie fairhead #lisa duffin

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caravanslost · 6 years

Text

27 - War

Characters: Damen/Laurent.

Tags: Several years post-canon; Laurent unearths a plot; Damen is so Done he’d make Nikandros proud; flirting husbands. [The prompt sounds dark, but the fic isn’t. Promise]. Written for @capri-month.

Without looking up from his papers, Laurent said, “Ambassador Sabinus is very handsome, don’t you think?”

A note: Archive Of Our Own Link here.

A note #2: I have received several excellent prompts that my fingers are itching to write. My inbox is still open, in case anything further takes your fancy.

It had been a lengthy day of diplomatic engagements, and the reception for the new ambassador from Asmea had lasted well into the night. Ambassador Sabinus was the youngest nephew of the Asmean King, a fiercely bright young man of no more than twenty-three. His retinue was small in number, but the five of them roused enough mirth, and downed enough wine, to equal the entire Artesian court.

Damen felt his energy falter around midnight. Although the revelry continued unabated around him, he struggled to keep his eyes awake as Councillor Itmar schooled him on the finer points of grain taxation. By two in the morning, Damen formally drew an end to proceedings, and weathered all of Laurent’s jests about old age. Laurent, for his part, had kept Sabinus company for most of the night.

Damen couldn’t have cared less about his lost youth. Shedding his chiton and climbing between the fresh sheets felt like sinking into a warm cloud. He turned onto his stomach, buried his face in the lavendar scent of the pillow, and stretched every muscle in his body as far as it would go. It felt delicious. He opened one bleary eye to look for Laurent.

Laurent was on the other side of the room, and hovered near his desk, sifting through a stack of papers in his long sleepshirt. It hung mid-thigh, and he had left the front unlaced. It opened wide around his neck and sat on him asymmetrically, the left side of it almost falling off his shoulder. Damen felt a useless stir at the sight of him, but it was far too late to do anything about it.

Without looking up from his papers, Laurent said, “Ambassador Sabinus is very handsome, don’t you think?”

He spoke with a practiced casualness that he reserved only for particular conversations. Damen had heard it enough times by now to recognize the gravity belying its seemingly indifferent tone. He lifted his head off the pillow, to properly examine him.

Damen was also just alert enough to recognize the trap masquerading as Laurent’s innocent question. The new ambassador had golden hair and eyes the colour of the ocean on a bright day. He wore his hair long, and it tumbled artfully down the front of his chiton, curling where it sat at his hips.

In short, he resembled exactly one another person in the court. The similarity had not been lost on anyone in the expansive room—and clearly, least of all on the person to whom the resemblance was borne.

But it was too close to morning to play lengthy games, so Damen asked him directly: “What do you mean?”

“At tomorrow’s tourney, during the wrestling, Sabinus will to announcing his participation. It will seem spontaneous, and I imagine the crowd will be dazzled, which is precisely what he hopes to achieve. Then he will challenge you to a match.”

It was a detailed prediction, and Damen resigned himself to a night spent unpacking it. He pushed the covers off himself with some difficulty, and sat up in bed. He said, “That’s a detailed guess, even by your standards,” and had a strong suspicion of what Laurent would say in response.

“It wasn’t a guess, Damen. I’ve intercepted his correspondence.”

“Of course you have.”

Laurent left his papers and unlocked a compartment to the left of the desk. He knelt, and when he rose again, he held in his hand a walnut box of ornate decoration. Damen watched him bring it to the bed and lay it on the sheets, and press a finger to something at the back of the box that he could not see.

A hidden compartment slid out, lined in crushed green velvet. It revealed a small stack of letters held together by a thin leather strap. The parchment was of a deeper hue and coarser texture than anything produced in Akielos or Vere, or indeed in Artes. He counted five letters in all, and the blue wax seal on each of them was visibly broken.

They had been married for six years now, and together for longer, and Damen had slept in this chamber for half that time. He had never seen that box before. He studied it carefully before looking back up at Laurent.

“How many other things in this room have hidden compartments?” He asked lightly.

“If I told you,” said Laurent, eyes dancing, “They wouldn’t be hidden compartments anymore.”

He took the letter at the top of the pile and offered it to Damen, who accepted it and stared down at the broken royal seal of the King of Asmea. The letter was unmistakably an original copy.

Damen said, “If you’re found in possession of this, you’ll start a war.”

“No one will know that it’s missing. Our royal brother in Asmea writes with an easily-imitated script, and his seal is simple to duplicate as well.” Laurent said, the corner of his mouth quirking. Damen had always found it endearing, how much he enjoyed his own intelligence. “I have the copies delivered, and the originals brought to me. You should read the one in your hand. Its contents might amuse you.”

Damen looked down and scanned the first few lines. And then he stopped, and blinked, and re-read from the beginning, just to confirm what he had seen. He finished the first page, and then skim-read the rest.

Flatly, he said, “This is all about me.”

Him, and only him. The letter was a detailed portrait of his habits and his preferences, and every mundanity of his day, laid out in detail that could only have come with the benefit of first-hand accounts. It listed everything from the names of the councils that he chaired, to the names of his most trusted advisors, to the frivolous matters of his preferred sports and breakfast preferences, and everything in between. At the very end of the letter, and of greatest concern to Damen, was a respectable outline of his typical daily routine.

None of the information itself was private, or indeed, particularly revealing. It was knowledge that was inherent to spending time at the Artesian court. But seeing it all collected together, meticulously organized, with all the care of a scholar towards a subject—that, more than anything, begged the question of its purpose.

“Does Sabinus mean to assassinate me?” Said Damen.

“No. I believe he means to seduce you.”

Damen went still. Laurent had said it with all the involvement of a man describing the weather.

In the moments that followed, Damen examined his own reaction. He found himself unable to decide whether assassination would have been a more merciful risk.

He felt his exhaustion, then, in the marrow of his bones. There was too much wine in his blood for this. He had lost count of how many turns the conversation had taken, and resigned himself to being led in whichever direction Laurent would take it.

“You can’t know for certain that he means to seduce me,” he said, although it came out as more of a hope than a conviction.

“I was rather hoping you’d say that. As a matter of fact, I can.”

This time, Laurent pulled up the whole pile of letters into his hand. He began flicking through them and settled on the third letter from the bottom, pulling it out with dramatic relish. He held it up in the air, rigid between two fingers.

It seemed that Laurent was rather enjoying himself.

“A number of your former lovers have been found, and questioned. With the information they’ve provided, our royal brother in Asmea has developed something of a library of your tastes, all ready for his nephew.” Laurent said, waving the piece of paper in the air. He arched a brow and added, “I must say—it’s most comprehensive. I learned a thing or two myself.”

Damen felt the colour as it spread across his chest, and up to his neck, and warmth as it washed over his cheeks. He reached out for the letter but Laurent pulled it away from him, and promptly filed it back amongst its brethren.

When he looked back up at Damen, his eyes were bright. “Oh, I don’t think you would have liked reading that one.”

“I’m almost beginning to hope for an assassination.” Said Damen. “What purpose can there be in seducing me?”

“I’m close to answering that. For now, I suspect that the ambassador is instructed to sow discord in the royal bed.”

”Yes, but to what end?”

Laurent paused and said, “I hear they’re building warships in Asmea.”

He fell quiet, then, but remained firm under Damen’s inquiring gaze.

Damen watched him carefully, and with a mounting sense of wonder. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, after all these years, that Laurent had unearthed a plot so shortly after it had been sown. The instincts honed in the youth had clearly not rusted in the man.

Damen said, “Are they foolish enough, to think they can come between us?”

“I can see a weak logic in the thought that Artes will only survive if we’re happy together.’ Said Laurent. And then—quietly, possessively: “But they don’t know how we are.”

He followed his declaration with a silence, and Damen did not interrupt it.

Laurent’s comfort with bare-faced declarations had improved, even though he still treated such private truths like diamonds, as things to be protected, and kept hidden from public view. When he did occasionally bring them out into the open air, the very act took something out of him.

Laurent busied himself with tidying the bundle of letters, and tying the thin leather strap around them. Damen watched the careful, delicate motions of his hands.

“Shall I decline his offer of a match tomorrow?”

“No. You’re going to accept it.” Said Laurent. He looked up, his guard newly eased by the talk of more practical matters. “I want you to fight him, naked in the Akielon style. I want you both to writhe against each other for as long as you can before besting him, and when you eventually help him off the floor, I want you to praise his valiant effort.”

“And where will you be?”

“Watching from my throne,” he said, “poorly concealing my displeasure.”

Damen said, suddenly pleased “You’re going to pretend to be jealous over me, in public?”

“I assure you, I won’t be pretending.”

Damen knew better than to give in to a smile, but he found his chest warming with pleasure at the thought of Laurent parading any degree of envy before the court. His affection was only ever practiced in private, his public displays limited to a brief brush of hands or a quiet word in the ear.

Damen also knew that he should be more concerned by the revelations about Asmea. He had lived long enough to know that the worst kind of enemies were those who played at being friends. But the truth was this: he couldn’t help where his attention fell.

He said, “You intend for him to think that his plan is working.”

“Only briefly. Just long enough to draw out the other players in his game.” Laurent answered. He paused and then added, “I must admit – I thought news of a looming war might disturb you more than it has.”

“They don’t have you on their side. I do. ” Said Damen. He allowed a bold streak of affection to colour his voice. “Let the King of Asmea try what he will. Sabinus can do his worst.”

Laurent placed the box on his bedside table, and failed to bite back his smirk.

“If I recall correctly from that letter,” he said, “I suspect you might enjoy what ‘their worst’ entails.”

Damen’s mind turned to it, and he found himself scowling—at the letter, and its forged twin, and all the documents that must exist in Asmea which led to their existence. His trust had been breached by lovers, and Damen resisted the urge to dwell on who might have spoken. It was the most personal and intimate of attacks.

“If you love me, you’ll burn that letter and every single one of its copies.”

“Oh, I will.” Laurent said, and his eyes danced so brightly that Damen knew a condition was coming. “I’ll destroy everything to do with it—after we’ve worked through its contents.”

#captive prince #caprimonth #captiveprincemonth #damen #laurent

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awhilesince · 3 years

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Friday, 6 April 1827

6 15/60

11 40/60

my bowels pretty well – did my hair – sent to Mrs B– (Barlow) to say I should be with her soon after 9 –

at my desk at 8 1/4 – wrote the other end (but did not date it, so that all appears to have been written yesterday) and finished my letter to Miss Maclean hers of 3 pages and the ends and a few lines of crossing shews she was hurt on receiving my last – begs for the pages I mentioned having written but would not send begs me write soon tho it be the last time seeming to doubt whether I mean to continue the correspondence ‘I am not I turust [trust] at this moment more unworthy of the friendship you bestowed so freely on me than at the first moment of its existence unless continued increase of affection do serve a repulse blame me find as much fault with me as you see me to deserve be ever candid and fear not any diminution of my regard however valueless you may consider it by this time’ –

some chance of Miss Maclean’s spending next summer in France but all uncertain yet – my answer a very kind one – according to her request (say I have but 1 page left dated 25 February) give her almost the whole of this page containing what I had further written about the quaker – and give her the following about 1/2 the concluding sentence of the rough sheet or rather page I wrote 2nd March immediately on receiving hers of that day –

‘But whither does my pen run on? my own pride has been wounded, and I have wounded yours – yes! here is the secret; and ‘tis out – when I sat down to write, I meant to conjure up ‘soft words’, apologize, and beg forgiveness and excuse – my regard outwits me; and I love you too well to dissemble my mortification, and not to write the thought, flattering or not, that starts into my mind’

– then observe

‘tis plain enough, had I loved you less, I had annoyed you less ……. the drain of the last years seems now to be fading away as the ‘light begins to shine on you – I always told you, you valued me too highly’ No! no! Sibbella, I have seen a spectre in that drain, but am not yet awakened – I still slumber as before over all you tell me about valuing you too highly’

…… we shall convince each other ‘our regard is not the less true, becausewe have once in our lives given ourselves unnecessary uneasiness – heartily sorry for it – wish my last ‘had been differently written’ grieve over these pages having hurt her ‘For my life, I could not at that time make ‘them better’ ….

‘How Albane and Margaret would look, could they have a notion of our last letters; but I think even these would be preferable to receiving a cold heartless letter from you – a cold heartless letter! what have I done to force upon you such a thought? Is my regard so light that the 1st breath of your displeasure can drive it thus like chaff before the wind? Have I, then, worn but the mask of friendship? And is it now the moment to throw it down, now when you are suffering so severely in health and spirits? My pen might be in fault; but to you at least, Sibbella, my heart was guiltless, and cannot change from tenderness to coldness so casually, or so soon – Perhaps you will know me better by and by’ –

mention the chance of my going with Mrs and Miss B– (Barlow) (my aunt will have me go) for a couple of months to Switzerland about the end of June – name Geneva, and ask if I am to give her letter to her friend at Vevay – ‘I have not been quite well lately, and change of air, and a rummage are almost necessary’ – my aunt says she does not want me – I can leave her quite well – so I can if she continues well as she seems likely to do – on the last End write

‘Perhaps I ought to tell you in justice to Mac Donald, that we now acquit her of what I hinted at some time ago, and believe it is a natural not one acquired silliness which makes her next to incomprehensible at times – However, in her present situation (we have still but herself and George, – the latter has the care of all the rooms but my aunt’s), we are well enough satisfied; for, perhaps, in this mixed capacity, we should not get anyone who would do better – I have written rather in haste, determined to have my letter off by 1st post – God bless you, Sibbella! Do not doubt my regard, or that I am always, and equally, your very sincere and affectionate friend AL– (Anne Lister)

folded, wafered, and directed, my letter to ‘Miss Maclean of Coll 5 North Street, David Street, Edinburgh, Ecosse, Post payé’ breakfast at 9 35/60 – left my letter for George to the post – and went out at 10 1/2 – Having sent to Mrs B– (Barlow) to say I should be with her soon after 9, she, wondering what detained me so long, sent Thérèse to inquire who arrived just as I was setting off –

Mrs B– (Barlow) and Jane and I off in a fiacre from the rue Royale to the barrière d’ Enfer at 10 3/4 – got out at the barrière at 11 1/2 – asked there what duty I should have to pay should I bring at any time bougies from Antony – 3 1/2 sols per lb. (pound) – a continued street on the other side the barrière – soon after passing it, on the left, the Hospice de Larochefoucauld, a neat looking building with a sort of garden in front – by and by turned to the rue to the Grand Montrouge – a pretty good village – an unfinished church built on the site of the old one – dedicated to St. Jacques à pot, promised to be handsome – great entrance a flight of steps to a neat Ionic colonnade of 4 columns – close to the church a door into the grounds belonging to the Jesuits – went down the street to their great Entrance – went into the court – asked the porter to let us take a peep at the grounds – no! nobody admitted but friends of the maitres (priests) or with some Especial letter to some of them – could not prevail – just looked at the outside of the house – 2 stories 8 windows at top 8 at bottom but the 2 middle ones of the latter doors approached by a flight of 5 steps – a small place – several outbuildings round the court, not particularly spruce and tidy – none of the ‘maitres’ at home just then –

Left the house at 12 – walked leisurely back (slowly on account of Jane) towards the great Orleans road – had not to go along it far before we turned to the left down to Arcueil so completely buried in the valley we could not see a trace of it till just upon it – a long street of a village – according to Galignani’s Paris guide of 1824. page 722. the church of the age of St. Louis

‘is remarkable for the delicate sculpture of its gothic porch, and for the interior galleries the area opposite the porch is planted with trees, and at the extremity is a plain but elegant building occupied as a school upon the Lancaster plan’ –

the church so ill looking, that, the doors being locked, made no effort to get in – the better of the 2 porches, whose ‘delicate sculpture’ is merely one row of rough gothic foliage by no means worth notice, fronts the narrow street – the other shabby little porch is opposite the place, a small space formerly a burying ground from which the trees were stubbed out some time ago – the school a decent small oblong building – the door shut –

got to the aqueduct at the end of the village at 1 25/60 – vide Galignani pages 396-7. the ‘fine estate’, the property of a Monsieur Coussin, very rich, is a pretty little campagne, or country house with a prettyish little garden and summer house in front of the Porte Cochère formed by the old Roman arch – the small houses under the arches looking into a little farm yard still remain – we stood talking some time to an old woman – Monsieur Beurier, close to the aqueduct, is the concierge, and a little girl went up the hill with us, and shewed us into the sort of reservoir – very neat – fine run of water – walked a little way on the sloping roof of the aqueduct just at its commencement where near enough the ground – Jane had already begun to be tired – her shoes hurt her –

in returning thro’ the village from the top of the aqueduct good view of the Marquis de la Placés nice looking house and grounds – the water of the aqueduct passes under them in its way to Paris – the Marquise de la P– (Placés) still there) – Mrs B– (Barlow) bought 5 hard boiled red stained as usual eggs, and 2 rolls for herself and Jane –

returned to the Orleans – Jane had difficulty in getting there – the sun warm – we had left the aqueduct at 2 and stood down under a tree at the side of the Orleans road at 2 1/2 – here we rested 3/4 hour till at last not used to sitting out in this way I became asleep and tired and cold or coolish after being much heated – poor Jane hardly able to get on at all –

set off homewards 3 1/4 – walked very slowly – how all this spoilt the pleasure! we crawled thro’ the barrière and 1/2 way down the rue d’ Enfer not very far from the Place St. Michel before we met with a fiacre – all got into and got to Mrs B–‘s (Barlow’s) at 5 7/60 – I meant to have had a warm bath at the bains Vigier – not time – must be at home at 7 – did not like to be hurried – Mrs B– (Barlow) kept me standing and talking – she lay down saw what she wanted at six lay down by her and gave her a good grubbling she had a good kiss or excitement and I as usual pretended to sleep afterwards to get rid of her questions who was the lady with the oil bottle that I used to oil it was poor Tibb of course will never mention her name foolish enough to mention the circumstance which I now pretend to have quite forgotten –

got home from Mrs B–‘s (Barlow’s) at 7 20/60 – Left the dining room at 9 50/60 settled with George and my accounts went in to wish my aunt good night at 10 1/2 and came back to my room to bed at 10 40/60 – [O two dots, marking discharge from venereal complaint] –

left margin: Fahrenheit 56 at 8 a.m. 63 at 10 1/2 – 63 at 10 1/2 p.m. very fine sunny morning – very fine day – sunny and very warm, yet a fine air.

reference number: SH:7/ML/E/10/0077

#annelistercodebreaker #annelister #mrsbarlow #missmaclean #marchapril1827

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danithebookaholic-blog · 5 years

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SPOTLIGHT!

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From Frights to Flaws (Alyssa McCarthy’s Magical Missions #1)

By Sunayna Prasad

Publication Date: October 20, 2018 Genre: Middle Grade Fantasy

Synopsis:

Twelve-year-old Alyssa McCarthy longs for a better life. She lost her parents at age seven and her aunt at nine. Her uncle also enforces unfair rules. But Alyssa discovers something she has never thought existed before… magic. A wicked sorcerer hunts her down. He kidnaps her from her ordinary New Jersey town to Yanowic, an enchanted island in Fiji.

Alyssa is trapped in the country due to a giant shield covering it. She must defeat dangerous creatures and the evil wizard in order to leave. But with sorcerers and enchanted technology getting in her way, can Alyssa succeed?

Originally published in 2013, the book has been updated to its full potential with edits, while keeping the storyline the same.

Goodreads

Excerpt:

Chapter One

Rain banged against the window. Alyssa looked up from washing her lunch dishes and stared at it. At least she could daydream while no one else noticed. After all, how else would she spend life without family fun—or even love?

Her uncle enforced strict and unfair rules. Alyssa longed for the kind of life she’d lived before her parents had died in a car crash five years ago. She’d only been seven at that time, and now she couldn’t experience things like many children her age.

Unless . . . she could find her godfather’s phone number and secretly call him. She hadn’t talked to him ever since she’d also lost her aunt three years ago. But she recalled his kind attitude. Her parents had even designated him as a legal guardian.

But something seemed off with the raindrops. They turned grayish blue and darkened into black, looking as if ink fell from the sky. Alyssa leaned closer, squinting to determine the shapes it formed on the window. The rain formed—letters. No. That couldn’t happen. But a message formed as the rain plopped on other parts of the window. Nature couldn’t change its laws, right?

Yet, the message finished putting itself together. Alyssa gasped at what it said.

Your life will never be the same again, Alyssa McCarthy, as magic will interfere.

What? Alyssa had never believed in magic. She’d been told at a young age that it hadn’t existed. Everyone on Orion Street was ordinary—at least, Alyssa had thought that ever since she’d moved here, right after her parents’ deaths.

Turning around, she saw her babysitter, Mrs. Hutchinson, examine the kitchen floor. Alyssa’s eleven-year-old cousin, Hailey, watched the progress. Hailey had mopped the floor. Would she earn a break now? Ever since her uncle, Bruce, had hired Mrs. Hutchinson, Mrs. Hutchinson had admired the way Hailey had done her chores more than Alyssa.

“Hailey, you can take a break until your next chore,” said Mrs. Hutchinson. “Alyssa, get back to work. You’ve been staring at the rain for too long.”

“Okay.” Alyssa turned back—only to see the message gone and the rain back to its normal transparency.

“What did I say?” asked Mrs. Hutchinson. Alyssa sighed. “Fine, I’ll finish washing the dishes.” She scrubbed her dish and glass with soap under warm running water. Her eyes focused on just those. No way would she want Mrs. Hutchinson to catch her looking out the window again. Mrs. Hutchinson was only in her sixties, but she’d sometimes seem to forget that was 2010 and not 1960 with her guidelines. Yet, it had taken Alyssa a while to realize that she wouldn’t even tolerate the mildest kind of nonsense, such as getting distracted by a windowpane when having to perform chores.

Now that she finished washing her dishes, Alyssa put them to the side and grabbed some paper towels to dry them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mrs. Hutchinson asked. Alyssa stopped. “I’m just—” “The last few times I was here, you left little bits of food on your dishes.” “But they were stuck.”

“Let me inspect them. Also, if something is rubbery, you have to wash it again.” “Why?” “Because clean dishes aren’t supposed to be rubbery. And boy, did you do such a sloppy job. Look at that stain on your sweater.”

Alyssa looked down. “That looks like chocolate.” Alyssa blushed and arched her eyebrows. “Hey—it’s just water.” She covered the stain at the bottom of her sweater’s V-neck.

But Mrs. Hutchinson waved her index finger. “Don’t you ‘hey’ me, Alyssa. That’s rude. In my days, kids respected their elders. We never would dare talk to them that way unless we didn’t mind them smacking our bottoms.”

“Things change.” “Not when I’m here, they don’t. Now let me do my inspection.” Great—an inspection! How long would Mrs. Hutchinson take? She might spend a couple minutes or maybe twenty. Alyssa crossed her arms and tapped her foot. She wanted her break now. She wished to read, rest, do a small craft, like lanyards—anything but wait for Mrs. Hutchinson to finish her task.

“Mrs. Hutchinson?” Alyssa asked. “Whatever you need to say, wait till I’m done,” she said. Alyssa sighed. She continued to watch Mrs. Hutchinson run her finger down the middle of the front of the dish. She then rubbed it back and forth. When she put it down and nodded, Alyssa figured out that the dish had nothing on it.

Mrs. Hutchinson spent a few minutes of running her finger down the glass. She put it down and turned to Alyssa. “You’re good. Now what did you want to tell me?”

“Um . . . if I tell you, can you not give me a hard time?” “Okay.” “There was writing on the window.” Mrs. Hutchinson pursed her lips and tilted her head. “Really?” “Yeah.” “Nonsense.” “No, really, it was there.” “There was nothing there when I came, and there’s nothing there right now. So don’t tell me stories.”

“But it’s not a story.” “I don’t want to hear any more. Now it’s time for your next chore.” “Aw, but I wanted my break.” “Too bad. You have to go vacuum the living room.” Alyssa dragged her feet toward the living room and took the vacuum from the corner. She cleaned and thought about that writing as well as how Mrs. Hutchinson wouldn’t believe her. Would a nicer babysitter have believed her? Mrs. Hutchinson had watched her and Hailey for three years, and not once had she smiled or assisted with anything.

After vacuuming the carpet for about five minutes, Alyssa decided that she had tidied the floor enough. So she stopped and put the vacuum away.

“Hailey, you and Alyssa need to go get the mail now!” Mrs. Hutchinson called, facing the staircase.

“Coming!” cried Hailey.

Another rule Uncle Bruce had placed on Alyssa and Hailey was they could only go outside together. He worried about people taking them or something, even though Alyssa would turn thirteen next month. But that rule had been placed because a few months ago, Uncle Bruce had heard about a seventeen-year-old boy who had been shot while skateboarding in his neighborhood. Violence could even happen here in Bursnell, New Jersey.

Hailey and Alyssa headed to the closet and put their raincoats on until Mrs. Hutchinson said, “It stopped raining outside.” “Already?” asked Alyssa. “Yes.” Mrs. Hutchinson went to the bathroom. The girls walked outside toward the mailbox. Alyssa pulled the mail and headed back toward the door. But mud bubbled from the ground near the house. It piled up, looking like horse manure, and grew as more soil emerged. Alyssa dropped her jaw and stared at it.

“Alyssa, what’s going on?” Hailey asked. “No idea,” said Alyssa. The dirt stopped piling up, but it continued to bubble, and the effects spread throughout the whole pile. The bubbles stopped popping up and down. Alyssa and Hailey gasped as they expanded. They kept their mouths open as the bubbles merged together, each one attached to another, forming a single bigger shape. Alyssa and Hailey stepped back as the now giant bubble swelled. And it . . . popped! Particles of exploding mud landed on the girls. They shrieked.

The front door opened to reveal a glowering Mrs. Hutchinson. “What the heck have you two been doing?”

“T-the mud . . . it e-exploded,” said Hailey. “Nonsense!” growled Mrs. Hutchinson. “Get inside!” The girls returned inside, pulling and wiping the mud out of their hair. Alyssa could spot the mud in her straight pale-blonde tresses, unlike Hailey, who likely needed more patience to search for globs in her elbow-length red locks. But Alyssa’s hair fell a few inches past her hips, so cleaning out the mud would take longer, even with the shorter layers in the front.

“How could dirt explode?” Mrs. Hutchinson stomped. “I-I think it was magic!” exclaimed Alyssa. “There’s no such thing as magic!” screamed Mrs. Hutchinson. “Alyssa, you’re twelve years old. You’re too old to say things like that!”

“But nothing else can make mud explode!” Alyssa said. “Mrs. Hutchinson, we swear it did!” whined Hailey. “Enough!” snapped Mrs. Hutchinson. “You and Hailey—go upstairs and take showers!” Alyssa followed Hailey up the stairs and heaved a sigh. How else would the mud have splattered all over them? Mrs. Hutchinson couldn’t have thought they’d play in the mud like small children.

“Alyssa, can I shower first?” asked Hailey. “Sure,” said Alyssa. As Hailey strode into the bathroom, Alyssa walked into her room. She scratched more mud off her skinny jeans (the only jeans she’d worn ever since they’d come into style) and the back of her hand. She stood by her bed since she wanted to keep it clean.

She considered the writing on the window and the exploding mud. Someone wanted magic to interfere with her life, but who, and how come?

Also, why hadn’t she ever seen wizardry before? Why would her parents and others tell her that it hadn’t existed? Did sorcery just start on earth? Had it hidden somewhere? There had to be some reason why no one had ever believed in it.

Alyssa thought about the possibility that maybe magic might only interfere if she stayed here in her uncle’s house. Maybe if her godfather could arrange with his lawyer to let her move in with him, sorcery would hopefully leave her alone. However, unlike science, anything could occur with magic, which meant that it could follow her wherever she went.

The sound produced by the bathroom’s running water ended, which let Alyssa know that Hailey had finished. Now she could have a turn.

After about five minutes showering, Alyssa stepped out and headed back to her room. She put on leggings and a long shirt. But she gasped at something appearing out of nowhere on her bed. Now that had to have come from . . . magic.

Approaching it, she saw that it was a folded piece of paper. She opened it and read it.

Hello Alyssa McCarthy,

You must be wondering about the writing on your window, the exploding mud, and the note that appeared here. Who was responsible for them? You’ll find out at some point.

Anonymous

Anonymous? How dare someone create incidents and not say his or her name! Alyssa needed to know his or her identity in order to report him or her. She didn’t want strange, magical occurrences to keep happening.

Regardless of that, now she had proof to Mrs. Hutchinson that the writing and exploding mud had occurred. Mrs. Hutchinson had seen her write before, and this looked nothing like hers. She handwrote in a half-print and half-script style. This, however, was pure print.

Alyssa jogged down the stairs and carried the note. “Mrs. Hutchinson, I have something to show you.”

“Not right now, Alyssa.” Mrs. Hutchinson left the kitchen. “You and Hailey have to go wash my car.”

“But it’s quick.” “You can show me after you’re done with my car.” Mrs. Hutchinson turned to Hailey, who emptied the dishwasher and put dishes away. “Are you almost done?”

“I think so,” said Hailey. “How many dishes do you have left?” asked Mrs. Hutchinson. “Uh . . .”

Hailey looked at the top rack. “Four.” “Okay, hurry up.” Mrs. Hutchinson turned to Alyssa. “Why don’t you go put that piece of paper away?”

“But this is what I need to show you.” “Do I have to repeat what I said before?” “But—” “Alyssa, do as you’re told.” Mrs. Hutchinson pointed to the staircase. Alyssa sighed. This note contained so much crucial information. Only that paper itself had evidence to show that those incidents had occurred.

After putting the note back in her room, Alyssa headed down the stairs and walked with Hailey toward the garage. The two grabbed sponges, buckets, and soap for washing cars. They filled the buckets with water and scrubbed Mrs. Hutchinson’s car.

“I wish we had another babysitter,” muttered Alyssa. “What was on the piece of paper?” asked Hailey. Alyssa told her. “Who wrote it?” “There was no name on it. Just ‘anonymous.’” A girl whistling turned Alyssa’s attention away from the car. She leaned her head toward the sidewalk and saw her friend from grade school, Madison Jennings, riding her scooter.

“Hi, Alyssa,” said Madison. The wind blew her long dark-brown waves across her face. She stopped at Alyssa’s driveway, and her hair went limp. Hailey and Alyssa ran up to greet her and ask how she’d been.

“I just moved onto Draco Drive a few days ago,” Madison referred to a road off Orion Street.

“So how do you like the middle school?” asked Alyssa. “Oh, I go to Catholic school now,” said Madison. “What about you?” “Hailey and I are homeschooled now,” said Alyssa. “I never got to tell you.” “That’s okay,” said Madison. “So you guys want to come over to my house on Saturday?”

“What time?” asked Alyssa. “I’ll ask my mom and let you know,” said Madison. “Okay, bye, guys. Nice seeing you again.” She rode back in the direction she’d come from as Hailey and Alyssa waved goodbye to her.

After washing the car for another ten minutes, Alyssa and Hailey cleaned up and walked back inside. A snore suggested to Alyssa that Mrs. Hutchinson slept. Huh? She never napped while babysitting.

Alyssa strode toward the living room and saw Mrs. Hutchinson asleep on one of the couches. Hailey followed her. “Why is Mrs. Hutchinson sleeping?”

“I don’t know,” said Alyssa. “Can you show me the note?” Alyssa nodded and led her up the stairs. She opened her door but gasped at what she saw. The note that she’d left on her bed was gone.

“Where’s the note?” asked Hailey. “It was right there,” Alyssa pointed to the bed. But another piece of paper appeared onto the mattress. Alyssa picked it up and read it.

Hello again, Alyssa,

I have put your babysitter to sleep to reveal magic to you. You’ll find out why she is sleeping later.

Anonymous

“Not again,” mumbled Alyssa. “Why won’t they say their name?” She showed the note to Hailey.

“Let’s go call my dad before anything happens,” said Hailey.

How much worse could this get? Alyssa thought as she followed Hailey down the stairs.

Purchase:

Amazon

Author Bio:

Sunayna Prasad has published a few books between her late teens and her mid-twenties. She has won a Pacific Book Review Award for her novel, Wizardry Goes Wild, which will return as a new edition, like From Frights to Flaws. Sunayna also has a blog on different creative and entertaining topics, including writing and fiction. It is called “Sunayna Prasad’s Blog”.

Aside from writing, Sunayna also likes to cook, do art, and watch videos online. She has graduated from college in May 2017 and is looking to continue more writing as well as hold a graphic design job soon. Sunayna lives on Long Island, NY.

Website / Twitter / Blog / Goodreads

From one bookaholic to another, I hope I’ve helped you find your next fix. —Dani

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