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srjlvr · 1 year

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𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍

⸝⸝ Your relationship with Enhypen members as a famous K-drama couple !! ⸝⸝ ✿

. . ҂ Genre: fluff !! OT7!Enhypen X gn!Reader . . ҂

✎ ᝰ . notes: hello beautiful souls! it’s been a while! i’ve had some spare time to write and i thought like, why not do this? the relationships are going to be all boy x girl couples but it’s important for me to say that the reference is to whoever is reading it. therefore its a gn!Reader. pls be nice!!

— HEESEUNG ;

Moon Kang-Tae & Ko Moon-Young — It’s Okay To Not Be Okay.

Everyone loves this couple!! Heeseung is the more calm and reserved one. He’s responsible and always makes sure you’re doing well.

Although being introvert, Heeseung makes sure he always stays with you, even if his social battery has ended. He loves staying around you no matter where and when.

Shows you his love to you in many different ways, but mostly it’ll be with lots and lots of kisses and cuddles that will make you two comfortable. He’ll also make sure you know how much he loves you.

“I love you” He said. You decided to tease him a bit today and just started walking with your back facing him while smiling. “I said I love you!” He raised his tone a bit, waiting for your response. At this point you started giggling quietly and waited for his next move. He didn’t care about the people around anymore and started walking towards you. “Won’t you say you love me back?” He pout. “I really veryyy veryyyy much love you!” He just kept walking after you until you gave up.

— JAY ;

Vincenzo & Cha-Young — Vincenzo.

Your relationship is *chefs kiss*. Jay is that kind of extrovert-hyper boyfriend who will not be ashamed of showing off by saying that you’re his.

Cares about you a little too much. Cooks you food whenever you want and makes sure you have everything you want. He’ll basically spoil you.

PDA is a MUST!! Although you do get shy sometimes, you’re just moving on and joking around. You’re basically just best friends who are being in a relationship, and you couldn’t be more thankful.

“It’s cold, give me a kiss” He begged. “My baby wants a kiss?” You were babying him and joking around. You cupped his cheeks and kissed him. After the kiss you were about to continue walking but he stopped you and kissed you again and again. You kicked him and giggled, “People are watching” You said. “They can keep watching I don’t care” He laughed and held your hand.

— JAKE ;

An Min-Hyuk & Do Bong-Soon — Strong Woman Do Bong Soon.

This boy is WHIPPED for you. Everything just has to be about you, thinks about you 24/7 and texts you 24/7. He loves you so much and never stops talking about you.

He likes to make you laugh and will probably make some jokes only to see you smile. He’ll also probably put you as his wallpaper and will surely fan-boy over every single thing you do, simply because he’s just so in love with you.

Will give you kisses, A LOT of kisses actually. He wouldn’t get shy since he’s with you so he doesn’t care about the others. He loves to hug you a lot as well and he’s basically just really deep in love.

“Hey! I love you” He yelled. You giggled and pecked his cheeks. Jake happily jumped and smiled, “That was just adorable, how did i get so lucky?” He cupped your cheeks and pecked your lips. “I love you” He pecked your lips again, “I love you” And again, “I love you” And again, without caring about the jealous people around.

— SUNGHOON ;

Ha-Ru & Eun Dan-Oh — Extraordinary You.

Sunghoon is probably that kind of boyfriend who observes you from afar. Although he doesn’t show it much, he adores everything you do. Looking at you smiling makes him smile as well, watching you from afar is definitely one of his favorite things.

He’s really quiet and introvert whenever you both are outside, and he’ll probably get shy whenever you do something clingy in public. But whenever you two are alone he’ll definitely wash you with kisses and hugs.

He’ll take care of you well, watch every step you do and will probably remember all the kind of things you like just to buy them for you later. He’ll think about every step in your relationship carefully and will basically just always be there for you.

“Sunghoon! Look at these beautiful flowers!!” You pointed at a path with loads and loads of beautiful flowers. “Those are my favorites kind of flowers” You smiled. Sunghoon, who was standing besides you, smiled happily while looking at you observing the view. The next day you got a deliver of those same kind of flowers to your house, with a letter ��Whenever you look at them, think of me — Sunghoon <3’

— SUNOO ;

Jung Joon-Hyung & Kim Bok-Joo — Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok-Joo.

Loves you a little too much, and honestly? Won’t even care if he’s showing off to everyone that you’re his partner. He’s super hyper which makes you smile whenever you’re around him.

Talks about you with literally anyone 24/7, won’t be scared to show affection in public as he’s being too proud to be with you. He’ll also probably always hold your hands whenever you’re walking outside.

Makes a lot of jokes and he’s a true sucker for your smile and happiness. Makes a list of things he’d want to do with you and will definitely do them whenever he has the opportunity.

“I have some bowling planned for today and right after that we’re going to watch a movie!” He held your hand and used it as a swing, going up and down together in a sync. You hummed in response, trying to hide your overly excitement. He then stared at you and quickly gave you a peck on your cheek. You immediately looked at him and smiled, giving him a peck on his cheeks too. He looked at you back and you started giggling together. “I love you” He gave you a quick peck on your lips this time, and kept walking while holding your hand.

— JUNGWON ;

Kang Tae-Moo & Shin Ha-Ri — Business Proposal.

Jungwon is that responsible partner. Whenever you’re being too hyper he’ll just smile it off and try to calm you down. But let’s admit that we all know he’s probably gonna join your hyper hours time.

It’s those little things about him that always makes your heart warm up, he remembers every little detail about you and knows a little too much about you. He always wants to show you new sides of him so it’ll be weird for you that he can be so calm but one minute later he’s dancing with you.

You’re mostly the one who gives the kisses first, but don’t get me wrong, he loves your kisses more than anything else. He’s not the type to share what he wants with other people, but he’s a completely different person around you, and he loves it.

You were going off to your work while he was sitting on the sofa, doing your usual routine, you went to him and cupped his cheeks and kissed him as a goodbye kiss. “I’ll see you later” You smiled, he smiled at you back warmly and as you were about to free him from your cupping hands, he quickly pecked your lips. “I love you, don’t forget to eat your meals in time” He smiled widely this time.

— NIKI ;

Choi Ung & Kook Yeon-Soo — Our Beloved Summer.

He’ll probably be very shy to show his love to you at first, but quickly enough will snuggle into you like 24/7. Loves you a lot and won’t be scared to show it off.

Will get jealous very easily. If he ever finds someone flirting with you he’ll quickly take you somewhere else away from that person and then will act like a baby since he’s that jealous.

Will take a lot of pictures of you just for him to look at them a few days after. Will also text you whenever he’s missing you and whenever he’s at your place or you’re at his, you’ll be sure to play some playstation and order some chicken.

“Oh come on! Let’s do another round!!” Niki was sulking, he obviously lost the game when you were his rival. You’re always winning him but he still has that hope that one day he’ll manage to bring you down. “No way! I’m always winning, it became boring!” You sulked. “Please baby!” He begged and you shook your head as a no. “I’ll order some chicken” He smirked. “You’re paying!” You smiled and pecked his cheek. “Oh come on” He pouted and looked at you. You rolled your eyes playfully and pecked his lips. “I love you” “I love you too Riki”

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maxer-blaster · 1 year

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Fucked up Short Stories

Links:

The Scarlet Ibis by James Hurst

Lamb to the Slaughter by Roald Dahl

The Landlady by Roald Dahl

The Lottery by Shirley Jackson

Guts by Chuck Palahniuk

An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge by Ambrose Bierce

No is Yes by Paul Jennings

A Good Man is Hard to Find by Flannery O'Connor

The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas by Urusula K. LeGuin

A Perfect Day for Bananafish by J.D. Salinger

The Rocking Horse Winner by D.H. Lawrence

A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream by Harlan Ellison

The Strap Box Flyer Paul Jennings

There Will Come Soft Rains by Ray Bradbury

To Build a Fire by Jack London

The Veldt by Ray Bradbury

A Rose For Emily by William Faulkner

Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been? By Joyce Carol Oates

The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

In the Penal Colony by Franz Kafka

The Monkey’s Paw by W.W. Jacobs

The Tell Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe

The Dunwich Horror by H.P. Lovecraft

Rappaccini’s Daughter by Nathaniel Hawthorne

The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allen Poe

Young Goodman Brown by Nathaniel Hawthorne

One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

The Cold Equations by Tom Godwin

A Company of Laughing Faces by Nadine Gordimer

The Lamp at Noon by Sinclair Ross

Note: some of these are really fucked up. Others might be fucked up in racist/sexist/homophobic ways due to when it was written/views of the author.

Reader Discretion is Advised.

#short stories #reading #links #books #resource

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mizuki-nautilus · 10 months

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『 Thorn & Roses 』 - Chapter 2

Resolutions and Uncertainties

Starting a new year at Night Raven College comes with a few perks like, Priority registration at NRC special courses, more independence in the campus, access to more resources for students para-activities and the magnificent opportunity to become part of inter scholar championships.

As anticipated, [Y/N] entered the new year with a mixture of resolutions, hopes, and a persistent ache in her heart. Walking along the NRC main entrance, she tried to familiarize herself with the new device that Vil had gifted her on her birthday. "Hey, [Y/N]! What are you doing with that thing Vil gave you?" Grim, her furry friend, curiously inquired. [Y/N] paused and shifted her attention from the device in her hands to Grim.

With a chuckle, she replied, "Hahaha. It's a Magiphone, Grim! I was just setting up my wallpaper, look!" She proudly displayed the device to Grim and continued, "It's the photo we took on my birthday! Aren't we adorable together?~" As Grim inspected the device, he couldn't resist expressing his opinion, "Hmmm… I must admit, you do look quite pretty, but no one can compare to the greatness of ME, the OH GREAT ME! Just look at this astounding photo of ME!!" With delicate paws, he snatched the phone and examined his own reflection.

Out of the blue, a voice chimed in, "Yo!" as Ace and Deuce joined the conversation. "Hello, [Y/N]! Grim! It's been a while!" They happily embraced [Y/N] and Grim in a tight hug. [Y/N] couldn't help but express, "Awww~ I missed you two! How was your break like?" As they continued walking, entering the main building of NRC college, Deuce shared, "It was quite tiring for me. I spent the break helping my mom and granny with a thorough house cleaning. Now that I can master more spells, they trust me with more tasks around the house." Proudly, Deuce explained his experience.

Ace, interrupting, mockingly remarked, "Ehhh~ Deuce is such a goodie! Personally, I don't feel like cleaning all day during my college break. Bleh!" As Ace playfully stuck out his tongue, he then proudly boasted, "But my brother did come to visit my family this time. Since he started his full-time job, his visits have become rarer and rarer. I guess that's what happens when one finally grows up." Ace shared his thoughts with a hint of nostalgia.

"Growing up, huh," Deuce mused, and for a moment, a silence fell upon the three of them. The mention of growing up had brought a sudden shift in the mood. "I suppose it's a bit early for us to be thinking about it, but… Have either of you given any thought to what internship you'll choose in the fourth year?" Deuce's tone carried a hint of worry.

"Deeeeuceeee! We just became second years!" Ace interjected. "We have ALLLLLLLLLL this year to not worry about it, and then a whole NEW year to avoid thinking about it, only to randomly pick something at the very end," Ace complained, rolling his eyes. "I think we can drop this pointless conversation and talk about something more fun!"

"Ace! Don't brush off something so important with such nonchalance!" Deuce argued back. "The experiences we gain during our fourth year actually help us secure stable jobs right after school or provide opportunities for higher education," Deuce expressed his concern. "Hah! You talk as if you've already decided what you want to do after NRC!" Ace taunted. "So, spill it! What are your plans after graduation? Are you going to become a cauldron seller or something? Casting cauldrons seems to be your thing, right?" Ace smirked, putting his hands behind his head. Deuce struggled to find the right words. "Ace, well… I… I haven't thought that far ahead, okay!" Deuce expressed his embarrassment. "But I still believe we shouldn't just forget about it until the last second."

Annoyed, the young woman expressed "If you two have finished fighting, I think we should hurry to class," [Y/N] suggested. "We have Magic History class II in the first term, and Professor Trein is known to be really strict about punctuality." [Y/N] searched through her schedule for the classroom details. Ace retorted, "History Class II? Are you blind, [Y/N]? The first class in the morning is Botanical Plants, you dummy!" He rolled his eyes. "Guys… According to my schedule, the first class is Practical Potion Lab with Professor Crewel," Deuce clarified. As the three of them locked eyes, a sudden sharp sound interrupted. "Funya!!!! Are we not in the same classes this year!?!?!" Grim, who had overheard their conversation, stopped playing with the magical phone and expressed his concern.

"I … suppose so… Grim," [Y/N] replied, attempting to sound calm despite the growing anxiety within her. The conversation about growing up had already stirred her worries. As a non-magical being in a world full of magic, the question of what she would become after her time at Night Raven College became increasingly daunting. In her non-magical world, the possibilities were endless, and she could pursue any path she desired. But now, many options seemed out of reach. In a world where everything revolved around magic, she couldn't help but wonder what role she could play.

As the worry on [Y/N]'s face intensified, Ace attempted to lighten the mood. "HEY! I know it's tough for us to be separated, but we can always find a way to persuade Crowley to get us back in the same class!" Ace exclaimed. "We can bring up the countless times you've saved Night Raven College from overblotted students," he clumsily added. "OR we could play your card under the sea~, [Y/N]~" Ace said mischievously. "Ace, I don't think resorting to extortion will help us get back into the same class," [Y/N] responded. "Yeah, we might end up in jail or, worse, expelled," Deuce chimed in. "WHAT? Aren't you two upset about us being separated?!" Ace exclaimed dramatically.

"Definitely, Ace, we're all feeling it!" the [Color]-haired girl exclaimed. "But after everything we went through last year, I don't feel like I have the strength to go against the flow this year. I… I don't feel good enough to be fighting around this time. I'm sorry." [Y/N] added, her tone filled with weariness. At this moment, [Y/N]'s bright and cheerful facade fell to the floor, revealing a glimpse of the grim-dark side she had experienced just a few months ago.

As Deuce and Ace gazed at [Y/N]'s tired expression, memories of her mindset after Malleus's disappearance flashed through their minds —an image of a heartbroken mess, crying her heart out, with red puffy eyes, wet cheeks, and a complexion stripped of its usual pinkish blush. It served as a reminder that despite [Y/N]'s usual strength, she had recently been in a fragile state not too long ago.

And with that, Ace, Deuce, and Grim accepted their fate and settled for the new student schedule they had been given. "It's okay, [Y/N]. We understand how you feel," Deuce said. "But! We'll only accept it if you promise that we'll still eat lunch together!" the raven-haired guy cheerfully exclaimed. "Yeah! No matter who you meet in your new classes, you have no right to replace us with new friends!" Ace chimed in. [Y/N] softly chuckled. "I could never do that, Ace," she gently stated. "The four of us will always be best friends, okay?" [Y/N] extended her arm, signalling their secret best friend greeting. "Of course!" Deuce and Ace exclaimed, while Grim laughed cheerfully.

#disney twisted wonderland #twistedwonderland #twst wonderland #diasomnia #disney twst #malleus draconia x reader #slow burn

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slowdownurdoingfine · 1 year

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X67 (Joel Miller x BountyHunter!Reader) PT 1

Plot: You’d never thought you’d see Joel Miller again, not after ditching him back in ‘07. Yet unfortunately, here he was under your smoking gun. Classic Sophie’s choice, kill the girl with the bounty on her head that could keep you living lavishly for the rest of your miserable existence, or save her because of the look your ex-boyfriend gave you.

Pairings: Joel Miller x reader (lovers to enemies to …?), OC pairing (Charlie ) x reader.

Warnings: typical tlou violence

A/N: hiii! I posted about this earlier, but here is the first part!! it’s honestly a little short but that’s because I want to hide a bit about the relationships and do some revelations in the next part and because of it that needs to be longer!!! K BYEEE

The wood structure looked to be barely supported by its own weight, vines curling around the wood planks slowly constricting themselves to take over the original beams. The wind whipped around the lush trees, snow piling around every curve in the mossy and wet ground behind your feet. It was hard to see around you, so your own form of communication with your team was temporarily lost. All you could do is hope, which was typically a very fleeting feeling within your mind, that they were behind you. Trudging your heavy work boots out of the quickly piling snow, you make your way to the cabin. Your foot finds the weak wood of the first stair piled in snow. You turn and exhale quickly seeing black figures within your squinted, blurry eyesight. You move forwards and once you reach the front porch covered away from the downpiling over snow, you use your teeth to remove one glove and grab your gun from its holster. It’s fucking freezing cold, your warm hands almost painfully stick to the metal. Trying to peer through the window well-duh obviously it's boarded up.

Your team reaches the stairs, your partner Charlie now standing near you. He looks at you, brown eyes reaching yours and moving towards the door. It’s silent for a moment, the calm before the storm.

He barrels the door with his shoulder, and it is all loud noises and boots storming onto the floor, gunpowder seeping the room and crowding the lame wallpaper plastered onto the walls. The girl in question lies, back towards the door, a green sleeping bag tucked under her shoulders. An older man, eyes wide mid-motion. His sleeping bag is scrunched below his waist, salt-and-pepper hair. His eyes crinkle but you're swept away into another room as the man's arms are dragged behind him by three different men. You hear vague gunshots, three to be exact, as you enter the ragged bedroom off to the side of the main-room.

“What should we do?” The words ring in your ears, but words can’t seem to come. This whole entire moment was swept under the rug from you, so much blurry and you couldn’t pin down. X67 was a young girl? Who was that man? Your name is called. It snaps you back to reality as you curl your fists and dig your nails in your palms.

“What?”

“I mean- who do we call?” It’s Charlie in front of you, his eyes are wide. His brown hair is shaggy and much overgrown, and the lines on his face are deep and scar into his skin. It’s clear he hadn’t been able to find a razor in a while as his thick beard had taken over the bottom of his face. You almost lurch for his leg and grab the pager strapped in a pouch on his thigh. The technology is rough in your hands as you stand up straight.

“We can’t tell anyone we’re here, not yet.” You whisper roughly, face close to his. He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off quickly. “They hear and anyone close in the area comes barreling with all their lame ass crews and annoying ass shotguns, so we deal with this personally and then..” You give him a look. He knows what comes after, and it makes his eyes light up.

“Claim the rations.”

You nod.

“Anyways, X67 destroyed the goddamn uprising in Kansas City.” He laughs. “Or at least whatever the hell they were trying to do down there.”

You both leave the room. Blood lines the wall and the smell of death is ever present. Two men, out of your three lay slumped against the sofa while another holds, which is clearly the girl's father or something down. The girl is struggling to free herself of whatever is holding her arms back and Charlie is quick to run over and hold her back once more. You feel suddenly awkward alone standing by yourself, eyes averting both of their yells. The man pinned to the ground has suddenly grown deathly silent. You avert your eyes from the pair though opting to teeth off your other glove. Once it is shoved into your jeans you finally look at the girl. Jesus christ. She looks to be only about 13-14 years old. How could she have such a large bounty over her? It didn’t make any sense. Your morality seemed to bubble up in your throat, running the back of your wrist over your forehead exhaling quickly.

“What the hell Charlie, she’s just a kid.” You breathe out, looking at him, not willing yourself to look anywhere else. His face is twisted in concentration as he finally looks at you.

“Now’s not the time to have a fucking moral crisis!” He shouts at you.

You then decide to, what is quite possibly the worst decision you’ve ever made in your life, break eye contact and look at the silent man pinned down who looks like he’s seen a ghost. Your arm quickly drops. A life before the one you knew now flashes before you.

Joel Miller.

______

2003

Ruffling your wet hair out of the shower, the strands clump up and stick to each other. Groaning you look around the bathroom for your brush, and it’s nowhere to be seen. Wrapping your towel tighter around you, you huff and open the bathroom door walking into the adjoining bedroom, fog following after you as your damp feet hit the soft carpet. Joel stands mid-motion with a small smirk on his face, said brush in hand like he was walking into the bathroom. Almost instantly his eyes hit yours as you start to speak at the same time.

“Brush.”

“Brush?”

He makes you exhale through your nose as you meet each other in the middle of the room.

“I think ya’ left your brush out here.” He says, soft brown eyes still locked with yours.

“I think I did. Thanks.” You pry it from his hands, and start to turn until his large hand wraps around your toweled waist.

“‘Missed you today.” He says, pushing all your hair to the other side of your neck.

“Sarah told me you forgot the pancake mix?” You laugh out at him, and he turns his head to the side, eyes twinkling as he rolls his eyes in faux annoyance.

“That damn girl, telling you all our business.” You playfully swat his side.

“Hey, I moved in 4 months ago. I think I should know about this business by now!” He moves his hands to your shoulders lovingly, then to the sides of your neck turning back towards you now.

“I know, I know.” He pauses. “I like you knowing this.” He says softly, a moment of vulnerability with you. “Makes me feel like Sarah has someone else to look up to.” He nods his head as if confirming what that meant to you. The weight of it weighed on your chest as you rested your forehead on his. His hands met your face.

“I forgot to get the cake too.” You pull back quickly, eyes widen and mouth agape moment clearly ruined.

“One thing!” He gives you a smile that always wins you over, and your mirror his faux annoyed eye roll. “Alright, alright.”

He kisses your cheek quickly and follows you to the bathroom leaning against the door frame. You stand in front of the mirror and wipe off an unfogged patch starting to brush through your hair.

“How was work?” You start, and his eyes flick away from yours like he doesn’t want to talk about it. “Fine, fine. What about… anyone wished’ you a happy birthday?” Your lips curl into a bright smile as he finally looks at you in the mirrored reflection. He walks forward and takes the brush out of your hand, running it through your damp hair as gently as possible.

“Only the people that matter.” He says softly, leaning down and kissing your shoulder.

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soulmateszedits · 2 years

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DAY6 ; 해변의 달링 ᓚᘏᗢ

✧ Unit Even of Day

✧ Era

✧ AJ

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prplocks · 2 years

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☆ ! young k wallpaper ! ☆

(´｡• ω •｡`)

reblog if you saved

#wallpapers #young k #young k day6 #young k even of day #young k locks #young k lockscreen #young k lockscreens #young k wallpaper #young k wallpapers #day6 #day6 locks #day6 lockscreens #day6 wallpapers #even of day #even of day locks #even of day lockscreens #even of day wallpapers

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wordpimp · 6 months

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We live in a world of calm and speculation.

Rainstorm gesthemane, hialeah watertown.

Be good to me daddy, he says.

I will baby, she says.

They argued a little earlier abt what to call things. They stepped into a mud hole, she carried him across a mud puddle. A turtle floated them across its back. It was flat. Lounge lizards in tucson, in tulsa, in poughkeepsie.

It was hot in july in the trailer. White broadside yellow cream trim, it was pretty in a way. Petticoat, baby wore mary janes to match, white socks farmer tan. Yellow wig. Ginger blossom. He had a few tattoos, but really only liked one of them. It was a bird, a kanji, the owl.

梟

Baby went to japan once, mt fuji, and asked for sake like a tourist. For a long time they thought abt him, there, in the wind.

Around evening, baby would want ice cream from the ice cream truck. Parlor junction. Mi casa es su casa, the driver used to say. But baby misinterpreted the one time he went down there: mikasa.

It was a brand of dinnerware but they already had some. Casa with a K. They did that a lot. Sign of puberty. The world was young, then. Flags were rectangular, money was printed on clothes. Put a dollar in me, the walls whined at night. Labor of love.

Signs in the chimney. When they were able to, they would have a fire again. Saturday maybe. The days were gone, mixed up since daddy had begun to work again. Out in the yard, in the cinder, baby could hear the pitchfork shovel of machinery. He smiled at his typewriter. It was fitting.

A bug flew in from somewhere, green-yellow, yellow-green, there must have been a window left open. It looked like a crayon. Stick of wax, eyes, cardboardy paper, birch bark. O the skin of my love.

Baby lit a cigarette on the stove, waiting to flick the ash, started boiling some water for mac n cheese. Mac in cheese. Macaroni and cheese. It was italian. Starving, he noticed. Ice cream for dessert, maybe tonight.

He wondered abt daddy, what she would do when she came in, what would she say, what new saying, what did she see out there. Or maybe a souvenir today, taking her time to dig up the bottles and ingots she got paid to hand over. Sometimes she would bring one of those back. A small gem, it might go into a scepter or a walnut, it might make a tree in the country, a beautiful place from a story.

Tire swing. That sounded too beautiful to baby. He hardly noticed the light swelling on his arm, where the crayon had landed, and the kettle boiling, or the white hot flowers. Bloom of midday he needed a nap.

Baby had the most extended childhood of anyone. He was born in a manger, he died on the cross. He was wet he was hard. He couldn't cum, then he couldn't stop.

That he wasn't a cult leader, that he wasn't a shepherd, with a flock to watch over or admonish, that he didn't abandon them all to go sit in judgment of everyone he ever met or heard of, that was a minor miracle. It made sense if you heard of easter, running out in bare feet with diapers, eating all that candy. Chocolate bunny marshmallow bird, give me the stomach to jesus. Baby jesus, jesu of man's desiring. If you ate all that candy, you would never want that responsibility.

Instead baby was a loud quiet person. Chaotic quiet, perturbed by everything. Lately he had been frustrated by the wallpaper, by the color of time, orange like the sun blue like the water green like the pears or unripe apples. Ripe pears unripe apples. Confusing. Some of the wallpaper was peeling but it was almost peaceful that way. Maybe it wouldn't burn all at once, if that was its destiny. It was a taste of freedom, for baby. Like coming out of a cupboard, a box cutter to skin. Letting the hunger abate.

Baby liked to sleep in a small bed. I think it's closest to the true meaning of his character.

Daddy shut and locked the front door behind her when she went to work outside. The back door stayed locked. It wasn't to keep baby in, it was to keep the lunatics out. She was going to ride her tractor for a little bit, and dig a little bit. Who knows. Metals in the earth. She had heard that there was a meteorite under the sand. It had brought up ghosts. It was actually what people had come to see. Why they lived there.

Daddy never saw the ghosts anymore, but jehovahs and mormons, scientologists, they would sometimes come by and that was bad for baby. He would talk to anyone, he just couldn't help it.

Daddy was more circumspect. She talked to strangers and people that she knew casually but said very little. Hi dolores hi bill, hi stephen. Their house was at the end of the street. A few neighbors, the creek. Mulberry tree, sideyard with a big hole from digging. They had been thoughtful and made the quarry wide enough to corkscrew down a few more turns. She hoped they wouldn't have to move for another year or two, it was a nice setup.

Daddy's schedule to get the ice cream was posted on the fridge. Left side mwf, right side, the rest of the week. Daddy made it, really worked hard on it. Pews in a church. Wings pearl grey. Everything was pearly. Cum colored or pink. Raw and toothy. It was the inside of a mouth. Of a cunt. Daddy shaved her leg. This is the one, lick it.

Tonight, daddy would go get ice cream for them, or eat the cake while the truck went down there for her. It stopped at the hill, not a long walk. Laundromat, axila, underarms. Excitement. Daddy liked to walk. It's the ether, she said. She never went to mt fuji either.

Daddy thought abt buying a general motors car, an olds cutlass supreme, gliding smoothly over rough asphalt. It's what you think abt while you shave, while you fuck. Nice, smooth. Blue midnight metallic half vinyl top. That's the kind of car they would drive.

They rode sidesaddle. Half beard in the mirror, there are pirates who invented transgenderism. Walk the plank. Is that also the abyss? Or a kind of it, a version. For reasons they only knew, this was never consummated.

Where do we live daddy. Is it a trailer? Is it a house. Is it a cabin?

It's a mansion. Big enough for you little bird.

It really was big enough, no matter what they called it.

Daddy stopped in the mirror. She was a bit run down from the summer. The gel of her eyes was blue or brown or aqua, ça dépendait, when the sun hit. She didn't wear pants or shoes. Inside, she didn't wear much of anything. Baggy shirt. Why hide all this, she thought, and so she didn't hide it.

Pudor is for the dirt, the shirt said, in yellowing cotton.

Daddy liked to sleep under covers. The bed was warmer for her. Nude and warm and redolent. Patchwork lace embroidered, panels in a tapestry. She felt like penelope.

One time daddy saw a diagram of a medieval church, all the parts like a body on a map, a table of divine making. But not anymore, they were done with operations. Trepan my brain, amputate my ear, excise, cut me, dig. It was already there. It was science.

Ash on a mantle. Face in a polaroid. There is one of daddy and baby pinned to the closet.

Baby said they lived on a cliff. It was curious to listen to him talk. He talked in his sleep too. Cliff, diving board. Daddy liked to hear him talk, she knew he could see something and sometimes she could see it too. Rolling down the street in a dream, jumping off a building. Play in that water. She felt good in the mornings when she could talk to him about what he dreamt, what he was seeing. It got her excited.

Meanwhile baby slept and talked in his sleep. Jackdaw emu...

She could tell he was dreaming abt birds again.

Daddy.

Yes baby.

Remember that movie abt the birds? You know the weird one I told you abt? I dreamt abt that again last night. But now there's a garden. And children. Well, two. I think they're us. I think they're us before, and maybe again. And it's very sad and very strange but also very healing. It's like when you come back from your work and tell me abt the outside. It's like when you tell me what to do.

Like I know you can't stay. I know this is all ending. It's the end already, but I can't help it. It's all I dream abt now.

Baby it's never enough but it always has to be enough. Why don't you come sit with me. Let me hold you.

I want to come back here. I want to grow up and get big and strong and ready. I want to lift you on my shoulders and fly with you, and throw you in the water. You'll see, then I'll dive with you. We'll swim. Will you wait for me, until I can do it. Will you watch me?

She could never say no to him, not like that.

When baby was finished talking he put the blanket on daddy and started a fire in the fireplace.

The flames did a slow dance, like salome. He saw a headless snake, ankles and rigging, the stubborn wind. It was the edge of the world. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep but he dreamt of the morning when they'd both be naked and wet.

#prose

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darsynia · 1 year

Text

Trust Fall | Ch 20 (mature)

MINORS DNI THIS CHAPTER PLEASE. Oral sex (f receiving) and sexual touching.

Story Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: Tony/OC, ‘terrorists made us fall in love;’ IM1 timeline. In this chapter, Tony and Emory arrive at the mansion and spend some quality time with each other.

Length: 4,853 (there's just nowhere to cut this. It's smutty tho)

Taglist: @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @themaradaniels @starksbf @chickensarentcheap @tiny-anne

Excerpt:

Tony stops at another door, metal this time, with submarine-style fittings. He reaches toward the circular spoked door mechanism but stops with his hands mid-air. “Shit, I’m just taking you into another confined space you’ll be locked into. Em--” Tony turns to look at her, concern etched across his features.

“Drag me into your bunker, Mr. Stark,” Emory tells him in a breathy voice.

His relief is immediate and attractive. “Oh, I will.”

He spins the safe-like wheel one way, then the other. Tony swears under his breath, repeating the action, then blows out a frustrated sigh and turns on his heel to glare at her good-naturedly.

“You!” He starts towards her, herding her against the wall opposite the vault room. “If I had your power set the building would probably be in serious danger right now.” He rests both palms flat on the wall and looks down, desire painted clearly on his face. “What am I going to do with you?”

Everything, Emory wants to say.

Chapter Twenty: Star(k) Power

They’re both very hungry by the time Happy Hogan finally drives them into the mansion’s subterranean garage. Tony had spent the last hour listing food places they could order from until she’d picked one to placate him. After years of having to make do with things she doesn’t like, it’s hard to even recall her own favorites. Rory would always choose her own second favorite things so she could eat from Emory’s plate.

As they’re getting out of the limo, Hogan gets the notification that their delivery driver is almost there, and he sets off to collect and pay. She’s not surprised that Tony had set up the other man’s phone as the contact, but it’s close enough to her previous life that she feels odd staying behind.

Tony leads her out of the garage toward the main part of the house, saying, “Why do I have a feeling your former boss made you pay for the food and expense it, instead of just setting up a card?”

He’s right. “How did you know I was thinking about Rory?” Emory asks, staring up at his back as he climbs the stairs in front of her.

“You have a face. It’s your ‘Rory’ face.”

“I ‘have a face,’” Emory repeats, amused.

“You do. I missed it. Your face in general, I mean.” He walks her through a hallway with crimson wallpaper that terminates at an ornate wooden door, and indicates that she should go first.

“You go first. I’ll follow you and silently judge your slightly creepy murder hallway,” Emory says.

Tony laughs, leaning against the closed door and glancing up at the ceiling in recollection. “That reminds me-- My father was angry about something, so he’d driven home ‘aggressively;’” Tony’s air quotes imply this is an understatement. “I was five at most, and my mom had just taught me the word ‘pedestrian,’ because of those signs, ‘Ped Xing?’ Well.” He winces. “Dad was in front of me in this hallway, and I just said, ‘Did you paint the walls with the blood of pedestrians?’”

“Oh no!”

He pulls a face and opens the door. ”Dad updated many other things over the years, but never this hallway. Can’t look like I ever influenced him, I guess.”

Tony doesn’t look upset as he walks past her through the doorway, but from behind, Emory can see that he’s tense from the memory. She doesn’t blame him; her own parents’ divorce had been rough, sure, but when she was a kid, she’d never doubted that they loved her. Their distaste about her choice of occupation was a whole different beast, but she’d been a young adult by then.

“Drag me into your bunker, Mr. Stark,” Emory tells him in a breathy voice.

His relief is immediate and attractive. “Oh, I will.”

He spins the safe-like wheel one way, then the other. Tony swears under his breath, repeating the action, then blows out a frustrated sigh and turns on his heel to glare at her good-naturedly.

Everything, Emory wants to say. Instead, she impishly remarks, “Most of your choices probably involve the room in there,” and nods over his shoulder at the still-locked bunker door.

“Is that meant to be a motivator?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

The mental snowfield that aids her in keeping control slips after having been extensively employed earlier today, and Emory thinks, fuck it. She grabs a handful of his shirt and lifts herself up for a kiss. “No, but this is.”

Tony’s on board immediately, closing in to nip at her, teasing and tasting. He pins her in place with his hips, and she slips a hand around to press at the small of his back, anchoring herself in his sturdy warmth. There’s a whoosh of air around them, loud but not dangerous, given the limited space to draw from. Emory can feel the fabric of his shirt ripple when it passes. Tony’s reaction is a low rumble in his chest as he presses even closer, his kiss more demanding, spurred on by his role in her power generation.

After a long few minutes, he lifts his head and schools his expression into a stern one. “Consider yourself properly chastised.”

“Is that supposed to be a de-motivator?” she asks as he stalks away from her over to the door. Tony once again pauses in the process of setting his hands on the mechanism, his shoulders shaking with laughter. Emory has to work hard to hold back her own.

Thankfully he gets the door right this time, opens it, and goes straight in. She pushes off from the wall and follows only to skid to a halt after just a few steps. Nothing about what she sees reads as an ‘emergency bunker’ to her, mostly because it’s huge.

In the center of multiple separate areas is a lab space complete with worktables and equipment. Fanning out on either side of the central area are two ‘wings,’ one of which is a kitchen/living space straight out of a 1980’s celebrity home magazine. The other is a large bed adorned by a circular curtain hanging from a hook directly above. Each wing has independent lights from the center lab, with the bedroom lights set the most dim.

Just looking at the bed makes her yawn, but at that same moment, Tony gets a message from Hogan, who is at the door to the bunker with the food. The three of them eat at the kitchen island before Hogan excuses himself, bidding them goodnight. This prompts another yawn, which Emory tries to hide in embarrassment.

“No worries,” Hogan says. “The two of you probably haven’t slept soundly in three months.” He nods at Tony behind her. “This one’s been working nonstop to get you here, it’s about time he gets some shut-eye, don’t you think?” Even though Emory hasn’t reacted with more than a simple nod, Hogan starts getting defensive. “What? Don’t look at me like that! I’m saying get your priorities straight, that’s all!”

She turns to see that Tony’s making a ‘time out’ gesture. When she swivels back to look at Hogan, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll be picking up Pepper from the airport in an hour, but we’ll see you in the morning. You know, when you’re both rested,” he says. There’s a little bit of impish humor in the set of his jaw that Emory can’t help but be delighted by.

Tony sounds less enamored. “Lovingly? Get out. Now.”

“You got it.”

Tony guides the other man to the door, one hand firmly on his back. When the door clangs shut, he deflates a little, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Don’t tell Mother Hen back there, but I had every intention of sleeping at our earliest convenience. He tends to get gloat-y, but I think the most accurate term for how I feel right now is ‘knackered.’”

“I’ve been looking forward to sleeping beside you for more weeks than I’m willing to admit,” Emory says simply.

With a pleased look on his face, Tony crosses half of the space between them, turns toward the bedroom area, and holds out a hand.

It’s completely dark when she wakes. There’s no way to know the time, but it can’t have been more than a few hours. Emory’s the little spoon to Tony’s big one, his arm curled around her waist, head nestled behind hers on the pillow. As someone who is often cold at night, she’s glad for the way their legs are tangled together, as the t-shirt he’d lent her to sleep in doesn’t fall any further than mid-thigh.

The only problem with the way they’re intertwined is, the heat of Tony’s hand on her stomach and the way his knee has snuck up almost between her legs is kind of making it hard to drift back off to sleep. She shifts a few times, hoping to either shed the growing arousal she’s feeling or position that knee of his somewhere it would do some good.

“Are you trying to kill me in my sleep?” Tony gasps in her ear, nuzzling his body closer and spreading out the hand on her stomach.

Emory sucks in a breath; that felt really good. She opens her mouth to respond, but stops. The thing she wants to say is more brazen than she’s ever, ever been, not that it would even faze Tony.

“What is it?”

Of course he’s perceptive about this, it’s sex-related! she groans to herself. Emory decides to go for it. “I’m not trying to kill you, but I will if you stop touching me,” she manages, voice wavering between steel wool and cotton fluff.

“We are at the same paragraph on the same page of the same dirty magazine,” he groans into her shoulder, sliding his hand down to cup her through the fabric of the shirt she’d borrowed. “I’ve wanted to know whether you took off those panties you didn’t let me peek at since we got in bed.”

Emory pictures Tony’s hand as the snowfield that’s meant to be keeping her powers in check, but all that does is make it easier for her to picture his hand where she can already feel him moving. The variable pressure in each muted, cloth-covered swirl of his fingers is unpredictable and glorious. Emory rests her own hand on his forearm and almost moans aloud. She hadn’t realized that feeling his muscles flex would be so intimate.

Then, Tony drags the shirt out of the way and runs his hand along her bared hip like he’s searching for the lace of her panties. Finding nothing, he says, “You did! Perfect.”

“I hate sleeping in panties,” she confesses.

“I wholeheartedly approve.”

Tony moves the flat of his hand from her hip to her knee, simultaneously angling his own leg underneath, slowly drawing hers apart. His confident caresses ramp up her anticipation, with wide sweeps of his whole hand spreading tingles closer and closer to her core. Emory whimpers, her stomach muscles protesting at the way she’s used them to hold still. Tony makes a sympathetic noise of his own and circles closer, finally delving his fingers into her waiting curls. Emory’s waning grasp on her power generation flutters along with her heartbeat.

She didn’t know she’d closed her eyes until something large brushes against her legs, startling her. Visible in the dim LED-glow from the devices across the room, the support chain above them is shaking, and the canopy itself is spinning.

“Em?” Tony pauses his movements. He doesn’t sound upset, but she’s mortified.

“Shit, sorry!” Emory says. She pulls in all of her scattered concentration to leash the radiated energy. A few tossed packets of power in the opposite direction helps her slow and then stop the twirling fabric. When she lays her head back against Tony’s shoulder behind her in embarrassed relief, he chuckles.

“Yes, how dare you lose your grip on your actual superpowers when I touch you? I am outraged,” he teases, sucking a kiss onto her neck.

“Don’t get too cocky. I just woke up, I’ve got diminished capacity!” Emory teases back. She can hear the smile in his voice, and something about the prickly feel of his beard hair on her collarbone makes her feel his, somehow. Turning her head to catch his attention before he takes away her powers of thought and speech with the hand he’s starting to move back into position, she says, “It’s pretty early. We could skip ahead to other… I mean, if you want--” Even in near darkness, she’s too shy to finish the suggestion.

“Oh, I want, but hear me out,” Tony says, shifting so he can look down at her. Most of his face is in shadow, but she can see a glittering intensity in his eyes. “Night after night in that cave I wanted to sneak over to your cot. Because of their camera, I never did. In Malibu, JARVIS is everywhere, but I didn’t install him in the bunker, which means no video or audio monitoring. There’s no one watching but me.” He dips his head down to kiss her, pulling back after just a few seconds. “Let me do this for you. Tomorrow I can look; tonight, I want to feel.” Tony leans down and nuzzles against the clothed hollow between her breasts. “Say yes.”

“Yes,” Emory says softly, trailing a hand across his back and up into his hair.

“Mmm, and since it’s already dark, and I won’t be able to see well either way…” Tony moves down her body so swiftly she doesn’t fully understand the context until his warm hands push her t-shirt farther up.

“Tony!” she hisses, frozen in agonized indecision. She definitely wants this, but they’d been in the car for hours.

He seems not to have heard her protest, too busy settling down at the foot of the bed and gently positioning her onto her back. “I’ll stop, if that’s what you want,” Tony says after a long moment, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh.

“Is there a shower somewhere nearby?” she whispers.

“First of all: I would have done this in that cave if it weren’t for the aforementioned surveillance cameras,” he says, dragging his shirt off over his head. The gentle blue of his arc reactor helps her see the sincerity in his expression. “Second of all: wouldn’t that wake you all the way up? I was going for ‘comfort pleasure,’ here.”

His casual tone coupled with that phrase almost undoes her, but she’s still nervous. Tony’s been with so many beautiful women!

“But--” Her words cut off for a second when he draws a too-light caress from one hip to another. Instead of staying propped up to look at him, Emory falls back onto the bed, angling an arm over her face in chagrin. “You’re a billionaire, Tony!” she argues weakly.

“Hey, most of that wasn’t on purpose!” He rests a warm hand on her stomach. “Being rich means I don’t do things unless I want to, unless there are terrorists involved. This bunker is terrorist free.” Tony freezes in place, and Emory lifts her head to see what’s wrong. “Forget I said that,” he says. “Only good memories right now.”

“Meeting you was a good memory,” Emory says quietly.

His eyebrows shoot up. “Time to make another one?”

“Absolutely,” she says, still shy but completely won over. His hand on her stomach stays put, but Tony grins up at her before drawing his other thumb right across her very center. She drops her head back yet again, saying, “No recordings, but is the bunker soundproof?”

“Yes. Please tell me that means you’ll make noises,” he says, sounding delighted. Then, in the next second, “Wait! Don’t tell me. I’d rather find out.”

The smug bastard starts slow.

Somehow after watching him spend hours a day working with delicate wires, employing his creative mind to come up with clever solutions to intricate problems, Emory had never thought about how that might translate to sex. Tony’s knowledge-base is no less vast when it comes to exactly how to take her apart. Thanks to his comment about noises, she’s self-conscious to the point of muteness, but of course, he doesn’t play fair.

“It just so happens that I do better wirework when I’m horny. That means you are responsible for half of that first suit’s success,” he says after a minute of teasing her with devastating twists of his fingers and kisses that land almost but not quite close enough. “Pictured myself in exactly this position, too.”

Even though she braces herself, Emory’s still unprepared for the jolt of pleasure that strikes her when his lips close on her clit, tongue swirling, fingers thrusting home for the first time. It’s a ‘car battery to arc reactor’ leap in intensity, and she can’t prevent herself from crying out. Tony ‘mms’ his approval, the vibrations turning her blood to lava.

From there he simply lays waste to her ability to do anything more than feel, building on each action and counter-action until she’s writhing and gasping and begging. When release comes she’s long-since incoherent, her throat tender and her soul sore from his unique mix of sweetness and conceit. Tony adds to that by reaching out to catch her hand in one of his as she shakes.

When she opens her eyes again, the ceiling looks wrong. Emory stares, uncomprehending, until Tony crawls up and stretches out beside her, also on his back.

“The stitching tore loose,” he explains. “It landed somewhere over there,” he says, gesturing vaguely.

“Oh my god!” She sits up, eyes wide, horrified.

“It’s fine, Helen Hunt. Blew harmlessly past us into another part of the bunker. Nothing’s messed up.”

Emory laughs, despite the situation. “Helen Hunt? Where did that come from?”

“That tornado movie, Twister?”

“Wouldn’t the nickname be her character name? It was ‘Jo,’ right?” she asks, laying back down.

Tony’s struck by a huge yawn right as he tries to answer. “I fully admit I have zero cognitive ability right now. What is it, 3 AM?” He snuggles closer, reaching down to drag over the light blanket from where it’s crumpled up at one side of the bed.

His yawn is contagious, and her orgasm has filled her with a kind of lassitude that could translate into sleep very easily. Still, there’s no way he hadn’t ramped himself up, and she’s not a tease.

“I don’t want to leave you… oh, crap, there’s no word that my sleepy brain can bring up that doesn’t sound filthy in this context. Don’t you want to come?” she asks, scrunching her face up in embarrassment.

“I’m good,” he says, surprising her. “I end up with some really intense dreams like this.”

Tony’s words already sound sleep-slurred, and Emory reminds herself what he said about having the agency to make his own decisions. She nestles herself against him, wondering if the intense dreams he’s expecting might include her this time.

Emory wakes up when Tony eases his arm out from under her.

“What time is it?” she asks, stifling a yawn with the back of one hand.

“It’s just past nine. It’s easy to sleep in with no windows,” he tells her, reacting to her surprise. “Wait till you see my bedroom in Malibu. Windows for days.”

“Wow, besides Afghanistan and jet lag, I don’t know if I’ve slept that late in almost a decade!”

“The more you talk about your life before, the more I want to send that bitch a nastygram,” Tony grumps, heading off to the bathroom. Rory’s a sore subject for him, he can admit that to himself. He’d enjoyed the sex, but thought her hangups were too numerous and unusual for anything long-term. That's not the problem, though.

Tony literally can not remember Emory from his brief weeks with her boss. It makes him feel like shit.

He sees the full-size towel hanging beside the stand-up shower and decides to duck in for a quick one. When he steps out fifteen minutes later, he sees that Emory has helped herself to a glass of milk and one of the muffins he’d stocked the kitchen with. Beside her plate on the center island are the clothes she wore yesterday, neatly folded. This makes him check for a full-light glimpse of her bare legs, but she’s wearing the pants.

“Damn.”

“Metal stool equals way too cold for the disheveled girlfriend look, sorry,” she says, her expression turning guarded right away. “Not that I want to presume--”

Tony knows just how to reassure her. He holds up a finger and jogs over to the tablet computer he’d left in the lab space, waking it up and navigating to the checklist of tasks for rescuing her he’d synced with Pepper and Happy. He holds it up for her to read.

GIRLFRIEND: ULTIMATE RESCUE LIST

“I’ll take it personally if you make a liar out of me.”

Her face lights up. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Emory says, looking down at her plate. A lock of her beautiful red hair slips free from where she’d anchored it behind her ear. Tony can’t understand how he could ever have overlooked her, but at the same time, awfully, he can. He’s been surrounded by staff and service people his whole life, and from a young age he’d been taught that it was rude and sometimes even dangerous to let the veil of social strata fall too far. To distract himself, he looks for a muffin of his own, and misses something Emory says.

“One more time?”

“Oh, I was wondering if you’d tried to make it ‘GO GURL’ but didn’t have the time to make it work.”

Tony rewards her with an exasperated look, and her little smile of victory makes him feel a little lightheaded. She knows him, the way that Happy and Rhodey do, but he’s already done the work to make sure that those men are safe and successful. Emory’s not safe yet. Being forced to leave some of his heart uncertain and unguarded is an uncomfortable feeling. He doesn’t like it.

At least Rhodey’s innate sense of tact and careful diplomacy netted Tony some sparse info on SHIELD, but it’s nowhere near enough. Rhodes had cautioned patience, but Tony’s fresh out. He doesn’t intend to send her back to Fury unless they’re certain of her safety, and that’ll mean asking her some uncomfortable questions. Emory’s skilled in deflection, her skills honed by a hundred hundred thirsty men angling for Rory Fall’s affections. Will she figure out his ultimate game plan of threatening SHIELD’s mission in exchange for a promise of full autonomy?

A short rumbling sound breaks the silence between bites of muffin.

“Is that your phone?” Em asks.

Tony sighs. “It’s got to be Happy, I’ve got everyone else on do not fucking disturb. Literally.” He winks at her lasciviously and appreciates the look of interest this prompts in her. Tony gets up and heads over to the overturned storage bin he’d stuck his phone under in a vain attempt to muffle the notifications. Sure enough, he’s got five missed calls and multiple text exhortations to answer the phone, all from Happy Hogan. It’s annoying at first, but then he looks at the timestamps.

The first is from six AM, then one every half hour until nine, scattered through with the texts. Ironically, Happy tends to bunch them up when something’s trivial, so this? This looks like an actual emergency.

Even as he thinks this, another text comes through.

HHogan: Don’t leave me on ‘read,’ Tony. Something’s up.

Tony picks one of the missed call messages and calls back. Hogan answers within the first ring.

“We’ve got media trouble, maybe legal too.”

“Your face just got really serious,” Emory says, getting down from her stool and coming over.

“Happy’s on his way. Something about media trouble.” He doesn’t add the legal part because she hasn’t had enough exposure to Happy Hogan to know when he’s exaggerating for effect. To Tony, this doesn’t feel like one of those times. “Ok, come on down. Pepper get home okay?” he says into the phone.

“Yep, she’s right-- Yes. She’s… she got home okay,” Happy stammers. Tony takes this to mean she’s in the room with him.

“Good. Should I activate JARVIS in here, or--”

Hogan is forceful. “No, no. That’ll just get you upset. Lemme come and--”

Happy’s voice cuts off. Tony can hear him and Pepper arguing (‘You’re gonna freak him out! Just go down there!’ ‘He won’t even stick around to hear anything we say if he sees these headlines!’) in a muffled way, as if Pepper’s holding the phone against her shoulder. By the time she speaks into the pilfered phone, Tony’s genuinely concerned.

“Tony? He’s on his way. It’s… it doesn’t have to be really bad, okay? We’ll fix it.”

“None of this is reassuring,” he tells Pepper in a tense whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” Tony hangs up and sees that Emory is hovering anxiously nearby. He opens his arms for her and she obliges, kissing the space beside his arc reactor.

“You’ve had bad media attention in the past, haven’t you?”

“Sure, which is why those two having kittens on the phone has me concerned,” he replies. She makes a little noise of unhappiness and tightens her arms around him for a few seconds.

With a qualm of conscience, Tony realizes he probably should have obscured his worries and sent Emory in for a shower. In the past, he’s seen that fear dissipates her self-described ‘sheaths’ of power, but Emory has implied that positive emotions aren’t the only generator. It’s possible, even likely, that it can happen with any strong emotion, which is then derailed by feeling an equally strong opposing response. Affection is negated by fear, but is fear negated by affection?

“Shouldn’t he be here by now? How big is the house?”

He pulls the phone back out of his pocket to see if he’d missed Hap’s text. The door is designed to be too thick to translate something like a knock. “Not this big, but it’s been a while since we--” The phone starts ringing, interrupting him. Tony answers it with, “Did you get lost?”

“Left my phone with Pepper, and you didn’t hear me knocking,” Happy’s saying, sounding out of breath. “Your turn. Meet me in the den.” He hangs up.

“Want to see the rest of the house?” Tony asks Emory.

Her response is to have a minor freak out about whether she’s presentable, given the fact that Pepper Potts and Happy Hogan have ‘already seen her in these clothes.’ Tony finds her an old white dress shirt from a drawer in the bedroom. While she’s dressing in the bathroom, he rushes to collect the ripped bed canopy that’s lying across their path to the door before she sees it on their way out and feels bad about it. The truth is, he’d been reassured by the whole canopy thing. Her control has improved a good deal between that and the tornado of cave debris.

“Worst deja vu ever?” he asks when she comes out of the bathroom with the sleeves of the over-large shirt rolled up. It really does look like the one she’d borrowed from Yinsen all those weeks ago.

Emory nods, but her expression hardens as she puts her shoes back on. “I can’t let anyone else get trapped by that scientist. I keep picturing Yinsen collecting all of his money, blinded by the possible outcomes. There can’t have been much information on the guy, or he would have figured out it was a bad deal.”

“We can ask JARVIS--”

“No!” she says sharply. “Sorry, but no. Natasha says it’s possible the guy keeps records of pings, showing the physical locations of people who visit his page. She cautioned me not to search while at SHIELD so we didn’t tip our hand. I’m sure a ping from the Stark mansion would be just as bad, after all, I’m supposed to be friendless and destitute.”

Tony turns to open the door, frowning where she can’t see his face. That sounds like manipulative bullshit to him. “I hope you’re good at faking that, then.”

He leads her up the warren of steps and corridors to the second floor den. It’s classic and intimidating, with wood-panel walls, thousands of books, and velvet furniture, on which is seated an anxious-looking Happy Hogan.

“Well?” Tony says, noticing the way Emory’s tracing her hands along the odd devices that line the edges of the mahogany desk.

Hogan stands up. “Look, there’s no good way to say this-- the singer, your old boss?” he says, looking at Emory. “She’s been making some calls. Claims that since she hasn’t heard from you, Tony must be covering up that you died during the escape.”

“This from the woman who spent a week melodramatically wailing from a kushy hotel in Kabul that her luggage was missing, with hardly a word about the whole person who was also missing?” Tony snaps, instantly furious. “Has she even tried to get in touch with you? Your parents?”

“Not that I know of,” Emory whispers, white-faced. “I put it off, since it seemed like she wasn’t interested in-- Mr. Hogan, what exactly is she saying?”

“She’s basically accusing Tony of murder.”

Next chapter, Emory and Tony have to decide whether to prioritize their current needs over their future ones.

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