Watchmen (Super Sentai) Five Kink Meme
Rules of the meme:
1. Anonymously(or not, because we seem to have stopped following this rule) post a pairing and prompt you would like to see written. Since this is a kink meme, there is supposted to be a kink involved, but normal well-written prompts should work just as well.
2. Anonymous will respond to your post and write it for you! Art and such ( Read more... )
Adi has a stitch in her side by the time they finally stop, slumping onto the steps of a dilapidated church. Everything here looks worn out, even the sunlight. But they're well away, and there's enough traffic on the street to keep anything too horrible from happening to them. She laces her hands together over her head to open up her chest and let her catch her breath. All she knows about her undersized knight is that he's got the traditional ginger temperament and that her mother wouldn't want her to speak to him.
"Thanks." She pants. He looks at her the way stray cats do, and her heart breaks a little.
"Welcome." He croaks. He shuffles, looking deeply uncomfortable in his uneven haircut and charity clothes, and Adi suddenly finds herself shivering, faced with the reality of what has just happened. She sits down on the steps and she's not going to cry, but she remembers his eyes. The man they dumped in the river while she didn't do anything about it because she couldn't, and she bursts into tears. She jumps a little at a soft, light weight, and realizes that he's put his threadbare, filthy coat around her shoulders. He's barely got anything under it, just a dingy thing that looks like a boy's undershirt until she looks a little more closely and sees a tiny bow at the yellowing neckline. It's meant for a girl, and she's wearing the only defense her savior's dignity has.
"Thank you." She says again, her voice softer than she's used to. "What's your name?"
"Walter." He says, sitting down beside her, a cautious distance still between them.
"Walter what?"
"Walter Kovacs." He mutters. "Are you hurt?"
"No. I'm Adrienne Veidt." She adds belatedly, offering him her hand. He blinks in surprise and then takes it he's afraid he'll break it.
"Pleased to... Pleased to be able to help."
"I'll need a little more, I'm afraid." She says, with an unconscious imitation of her mother's company smile. Walter just nods, like a knight accepting a quest.
"Okay. Lost?"
"Very." She pauses. "And hungry. You?"
He shakes his head, flushing as red as his hair when his stomach growls and makes him a liar. He hasn't eaten since breakfast, the not-moldy half of the last slice of bread with all the peanut butter he could scrape out of the jar. Adrienne (the name sings in his mind and he knows he'll be saying it to himself tonight, letting the dainty sounds roll into his filthy pillowcase. For now, her smile strikes him mute, and he lets her take his hand and lead him to a vendor they haven't pissed off. He doesn't have a cent to offer, and reddens again as she buys them both lunch.
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"Please, Mrs. Veidt. We have nearly everyone looking for her, and you said she's a smart girl, didn't you? She'll probably find us."
She looks up and smiles, all tearstained and gracious. "Thank you, Officer."
Walter does not like the Police Station. He thinks it might be good to be a policeman when he grows up, but that he'd better be far from his mother, and far from this neighborhood station where they know him for what and whose he is. Still, he's on a mission. A very important one, so he just squares his shoulders in his girl's undershirt and mismatched shoes, and shepards Adrienne up the steps. It's been a long walk, and she's tired, especially after all the running and terror earlier, so she leans on him like much younger child. He worries that her hair will get dirty from the sweat on his shoulder, but she won't let go of his jacket and he'd rather die than grab it back. He swallows, and opens the big glass door, the edge of one hand on the small of Adrienne's back to guide her inside. He's heard somewhere that that's the right way if you don't want to wrinkle a lady's clothes, and it seems to work.
She yawns cavernously, and smiles at him as he leads her to the front desk, his palms starting to sweat. She can tell he doesn't know how to do this, that he's one of those kids who can't talk with adults looking at him, and forces herself a little more awake. "Excuse me." She says, and the man at the desk looks up. "I'm Adrienne Veidt, my mother is looking for me."
He throws his head back and laughs. "She's just about distracted, but I think--"
They never hear what he thinks, because her mother comes running out, dropping to her knees and pulling Adrienne into her arms, crying. They're a matched set, both so clean and beautiful that Walter has to edge away. He can't leave, he can't go home without his jacket or his mother will murder him. Maybe for real, and he doesn't want to leave Adrienne anyway. He'll have to, they don't even belong to the same universe, but he'll put it off for as long as he can. Mrs. Veidt finally looks up as her husband comes in, and Walter's skin crawls as they thank him, tenderly unwrapping his rag of a jacket from around her shoulders. He almost escapes then, but Adrienne tells them about what happened, and they both have to stay to answer questions. Walter tells them not to bother calling his mother. With any luck she'll never know about this.
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His mouth flaps for a moment before he can speak. "I won't-- I can't-- You won't want to when we're grown up."
"Oh?"
He shrugs, staring down at his hands. "Girls like you don't marry boys like me. It just doesn't happen."
Adi snorts, rolling her eyes. "So what if you're poor? I'm not, and I won't be. You've been a real gentleman when no one has bothered to teach you, you've already fought for me at risk of your own life, and I like you. So we're getting married."
"...When?"
"Hm. I want time to finish college and to travel... When we're twenty-six, okay?"
"Okay."
She cups his face in her hands, and he looks at her like a landed trout as she presses a soft kiss to his mouth, to seal the deal. Walter makes a muffled squeaking noise, going so red she's a little worried. He looks like he might explode, and doesn't get a chance to say anything, because her parents are there again. Walter runs out at soon as he's free to go, practically flying down the street. Adrienne watches him go, knowing she'll see him again.
She's thinking of him when she sets off at seventeen, free and hollow and unmoored, and she's thinking of when she comes back, settling into the round of galas and benefits and events. She gets a lot of proposals during this period, from men she's met and men she hasn't, but none of them reaches the required standard. Of course, being older now, she's not sure how the sex would be with Walter or what's he's grown up to look like, but she certainly intends to find out.
Walter thinks about her sometimes. Catches glimpses of her in glossy magazines and smiles to think about their childish engagement. Everything links her to a certain A-list actor now, and it looks like there really is something to it. They look good together, a matched set in flawless white and gold. Walter tries not to hate him, flipping through a scavenged celebrity magazine and trying to glean his suitability from interviews. Even if it makes his stomach hurt a little, he's better than that worthless singer. Gives some of his millions to starving children, probably won't cheat on her with some whore in a bathroom in Belgium.
Poor Johnathan. They'll have to break up soon, and he'll have to hunt up another beard. He's been very understanding about it, even if he's told her time and time again that the world does not work that way, that he'll be unrecognizable, some kind of asshole instead of the tiny knight she remembers. Adrienne supposes it's funny that she believes more strongly in magic at twenty-six than she did at ten, and smiles to herself as she loiters outside the sweatshop where her intended has ended up, waiting for quitting time.
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I'm on pins and needles here, and Walters the one in the sweatshop!
You slay me anon! I love it.
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In this though, especially considering genderflip, I think it's really hot and cute that Adi is looking forward to being with her little knight, he will be a gentleman and it will be hot
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Of course he's red. Already pink from the sweltering day, he's matching his hair again at the sight of her, and Adi does her best not to laugh. "Hello, Walter."
"Adrienne." He croaks, blinking at her. She's done her best to be normal about this, to not just snatch him up in a limo like Prince Charming. Jeans and a men's dress shirt, roman sandals she can actually walk in. Of course, her clothes aren't sticking to her with a shift's worth of sweat, but Walter's are, and she feels a sharp and unexpected frisson of lust at the sight. Here he is, the winner of an undeclared wet t-shirt contest, shivering in the heat. She reminds herself that he's almost certainly a virgin and to keep her bestial urges in check. He's not at all handsome, and that really, really doesn't matter. "Why--?"
"We have an appointment." She takes his arm. "But I won't stop you if there's anywhere you need to be."
And there is. There really is, he needs to go straight home, throw some cold water over himself, cram something that can pass for food down his throat, catch up on the news, and then become Rorschach. There's a lot he should be doing, but he just blinks and shakes his head, letting Adrienne lead him. She's so like and unlike ten thousand photographs and the little girl he remembers. Lovely like her mother, but smaller, built more like a gymnast. She's his height exactly, and the feeling is surreal, since they were at eye-level when they met and that seems like it should have changed in the intervening years.
"Anyway," she says, "I'm not going to march you down the aisle without buying you dinner first. I fully accept that we might be incompatible after all this time, but still."
"Can't-- Can't go anywhere like this." He gestures at himself, and she waves a hand. "You can borrow some of mine." He sputters hopelessly, and she just flags down a cab and tells him it'll make them even for the loan of his coat. He calms down a little on the ride over, and proves himself able to talk about fashion, which is interesting even if the poor thing has grown up to be a hopeless prude, only to tense up again when they arrive. A penthouse is a bit outside his universe, and Adi is gentle with him as she leads him into the elevator. He jumps a little when she takes his hand, but doesn't pull away, and she squeezes gently.
He really feels like he shouldn't be here. This palatial purple place has nothing to do with him, clean and smelling faintly of jasmine, and he keeps his hands close to avoid messing anything up. Adrienne just smiles, and gestures to the bathroom. "Go shower and I'll find something for you." There's nothing he can possibly say, so he just obeys, closing the door behind himself and trying to stop blushing before he starts to sweat blood. The sudden intimacy of being here nearly kills him, and he steps immediately into the shower and turns it on, deluged in warmth that's actually pleasant in a place with air-conditioning. He sighs, and scrubs himself mercilessly, as businesslike as possible, trying not to look around and be struck senseless by ordinary miracles like lavender-scented shampoo.
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Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go channel Leprechaunschach and re-read while grinning maniacally.
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"Thank you." He mutters, and jolts a little when she touches his arm.
"To dinner, then? It's a sushi bar, but don't worry, you can get things that are actually cooked."
He can't help but be filled with trepidation, but he's helpless to anything but follow, glancing sharply at the kind of little details the subconscious never remembers to put in. Despite the unreality, he has to admit he's not dreaming. Besides, if this was a dream they'd be fucking like beasts or she'd be pulling his heart from his chest, or taking off her face to reveal a starry void. Walter has never liked his dreams, and shivers a little in the heat, trying not to clutch Adrienne's hand and failing as she leads the way into another cab. He can feel his ears burning because his current net worth is $30.79, and Adrienne seems to see the numerals in the air over his head.
"Darling," she says very softly, "I know you're broke. I spent a good portion of my formative years in drag, you can be the lady as far as money is concerned."
"Hurm. I think I combine the worst of both worlds: dependent without being pretty."
"You have an interesting face." She says. "I could look at it for ages and not be bored with it, and isn't that better than beauty?"
He studies her, head tilted to one side. "No," he says softly, "it isn't." It's Adrienne's turn to blush, feeling a bit ridiculous, but better than she has in a long time.
"You know, Walter, I think we're going to get along just fine." He just smiles ruefully, like she'll eventually get tired of this and leave him where she found him. She doesn't waste time correcting him, paying the driver and leading her way into their destination. It's a hole in the wall, but the staff and the product are both quality. It turns out Walter doesn't drink, so she sips a small Sapporo while he has a Coke and peruses the menu. When she won't let him just get a side of rice (the cheapest thing on the menu) it seems to set him back a bit, but he finally settles on a bowl of noodles, paying rapt attention to Adrienne's lessons in chopstick use.
Walter's previous exposure to foreign food has been limited to cheap Chinese and Italian, both of which come with forks, so he pays close attention as Adrienne shows him how to use the sticks. Their economy of form fascinates him almost as much as his companion's beautiful hand. She has the only kind of manicure he can stand, short, with the white rims and pink beds. Just an exaggeration of the color nails are anyway, nothing like blood or rot. When the food arrives he can't stop watching. She plucks up tiny morsels of bright flesh, so fresh it's almost still alive and eats every one in one neat bite. The arcana of wasabi and soy sauce fascinates him, and by the end of the meal, he has consumed raw tuna, and must admit that it's good.
She really does want to kiss him as they leave. He's adorable, and seems to have kept his innate chivalry despite everything, but she's a lot more able to see the damage with the adult eyes. It's enough of a blue-eyed miracle that he hasn't complained about the hand-holding, and even more of one that he manages to seem relatively untroubled until they encounter a phone booth. His responsibilities catch up with him again, and he excuses himself to duck inside.
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I hope there's porn :D
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